An unarmed Iranian ship was invited to take part in an Indian naval exercise alongside the United States.
Its sailors were welcomed on land and paraded before the president as a gesture of cooperation.
Then, at the last moment, the United States abruptly withdrew from the exercise,only to turn around and torpedo the very ship it had just stood beside.
What followed was even more grotesque.
After attacking an unarmed vessel, the US refused to rescue the sailors it had thrown into the sea, abandoning them to drown.
The grim work of recovering bodies was left to the Sri Lankan Navy.
This wasn’t warfare,it was treachery of the most disgraceful kind: an ambush carried out under the pretense of diplomacy, followed by a cold refusal to show even the most basic human decency to the dying.
It would represent a collapse of every norm that supposedly governs civilized conduct at sea.
And yet, instead of outrage, much of the American media response has been indifference or rationalization.
The bombing of a girls’ school is brushed aside; talk of carpet-bombing Tehran is floated as if it were just another policy option.
When atrocities are normalized and cruelty is laundered into “strategy,” the line between reporting and complicity begins to disappear.
As an Iranian, I would love to celebrate the death of that piece of shit. But I feel I debase myself by cheering an execution carried out by a vulgar genocide state, then circulated for applause across the smug timelines of European racists. Sorry. But fuck all of it.
I am not against Blink-it alone all of them are abusing the unfair advantage they have over the unemployed.
If you guys can give us aggregate data of biryani, condoms & biggest orders while tracking them live…
Just release the below aggregate data so we either end the conversation or start one…
No of Delivery agents in 2024
No of hours they put in 2024
No of kilometres traveled in 2024
No of deliveries made in 2024
Money annually paid to per rider/ driver in 2024
The accidents/death at work & compensations given.
(We can calculate the money spent on petrol, electricity, CNG & know exactly how much they’re are paid)
If you can’t disclose this under the garb of data privacy, just a reminder sensitive customer data was stored in CHINA’s Alibaba by “some” of you before you grudgingly moved it to AWS…
Is anyone working in these institutions @LabourMinistry & @MCA21India
Remember the videos of distraught flood-hit farmers from Maharashtra?
Old men and women breaking down like children after their harvest was washed away.
Maharashtra CM relief fund collected Rs. 106 crore.
Only 75,000 reached farmers.
A harrowing account from imprisoned Palestianin journalist Farah Abu Ayyash has emerged: Her lawyer, Hassan Abadi, who recently visited her in Damon Prison, said that what she shared was not just a legal testimony, but a direct, personal description of the severe abuse she has suffered since her arrest. In the letter conveyed through her lawyer, Farah recounts: “I experienced so many horrific things.
They arrested me in the middle of the night with dozens of soldiers, two female recruits, and numerous jeeps and police vehicles. I never imagined I would be targeted. They took me to Karmeh Tzur, tied me to a chair outside, next to a pipe dripping filthy water onto me.”
She continues describing the torture: “The female soldiers tightened the white plastic restraints on my wrist so hard that my artery swelled. An officer eventually cut them off with pliers. Dogs tore at my pants. Then they put me in solitary—just a room filled with electrical boxes. They pretended not to know I was a journalist. They forced me to unlock my phone… I work with complete transparency.”
Farah describes her transfer to the Russian Compound: “It was like a horror film. They shoved me inside with handcuffs, leg shackles, and a heavy chain on my shoulders. Nahshon officers beat me. A female soldier grabbed my hair, slammed my head into the wall, and ordered me to kiss the Israeli flag. I refused. She kicked me. I was sick.”
Her voice, she says, was shaking as she added: “In Ramla, they put me in an abandoned room and turned off the light. I screamed. Then they placed me in an underground cell infested with cockroaches, insects, and bedbugs. I cried all night. Cockroaches covered my face and body. The marks are still there.”
She explains that she was later taken back to the Russian Compound, fainted multiple times from the cold, and that the transport conditions were “extremely harsh and terrifying.” After 55 days, she was moved to Damon Prison.
Expressing her disappointment in her peers, she says: “I’m hurt by my fellow journalists. They didn’t create pressure or raise their voices for my release. I was arrested because of my work. I hope every free journalist hears me.”
Farah also sends words to her family, especially her mother: “I miss you so much… I tell the girls about the ma’amoul you make. My most cherished memories are the poems you wrote for me and how I used to recite them on the radio.”
boring, tired, overdone, not an iota of originality; worldbuilding picked straight out of blade runner and cyberpunk, absolutely bereft of any intellectuality and beauty. and thank you so much for the delhi colour grading. the kidney stone cherry on top of this steaming hot pile of shit cake
Today, I saw a bar of “Dubai chocolate” shamelessly gleaming on a market stall shelf, surrounded by snacks, nuts, and coffee — in a city where you can’t even find a single pill of medicine. I felt the rage choke my heart.
Just four days ago, I went through every pharmacy in Khan Younis looking for medicine for my son Mahdi — and only managed to find it through connections. No medicine, no meat, no chicken, no fuel, and nothing to sustain our lives even for one day. Everything that nourishes the body and soul is forbidden to us.
This is what they call famine engineering: they open the crossings for candy, coffee, and nuts to fool the world into thinking we’re okay — while denying us what keeps people alive. They want us to look like actors, not the starving. Like corpses, not the living.
How can a person live on snacks?
What filthy theater is this world — and the occupation forces — playing with us?
What the hell is this?
It’s a famine meticulously designed, controlled by buttons from afar — deciding when we eat, when we survive, when we live, and when we die.
What kind of cruelty is this?
And what kind of world chooses chocolate over medicine?
This pain has gone beyond hunger — the sorrow lives more in the heart than the stomach.
not to get corny but I think the perpetual girlhood trend (girl math, girl dinner, I’m just a girl, he should pay for XYZ) comes from a real and genuine distain for adult women. it’s very embarrassing.
Just heard Arnab say Arundhati Roy made "speaking against India a career option when her books failed". An interesting fact about THE GOD OF SMALL THINGS, which won the 1997 Booker Prize—it's been translated in over 40 languages and has sold more than 6 million copies worldwide.
Shocking reveal of unfair tactics to confuse voters and rig the elections by bringing up dummy candidates impersonating prime candidates.
And to no one’s surprise, EC was just being a mere spectator.
Here’s the Proof: A Thread👇