drey

Former kid. Present adult. Future senior citizen.

[Sann @san_x_m]

Her name is Sanjukta Parashar.

She scored rank 85 in UPSC. She could have become an IAS officer.

She chose IPS instead.

She said she wanted to be on the ground. Not behind a desk.

In 2006 she became the first Assamese woman to join the IPS.

In 2008 they posted her in Makum. One of the most dangerous regions in northeast India. Bodo militants were killing civilians, burning villages, running arms networks for years before she arrived.

Within 15 months she led 16 counter operations in the jungle. She arrested 64 militants. She seized tonnes of illegal weapons and ammunition.

She did not lead from a command centre. She walked into the jungle holding an AK47 alongside CRPF jawans.

She had a four year old child at home.

Her husband is posted elsewhere. She sees him once in two months.

She has a PhD in international relations from JNU. She could have had any career she wanted.

She chose the hardest one.

She is now an Inspector General at the National Investigation Agency.

India has one Sanjukta Parashar. It needs a thousand more.

Follow for real stories the country does not talk about enough.

[drey @thisdogewrites]

Horrible, horrible experience with @help_delhivery @delhivery, paid for a shipment only for it to never be picked up.

Raised tickets, requested call backs from a HUMAN agent. Nothing
Nada.

No wonder DTDC has a growing monopoly.

[drey @thisdogewrites]

Most K-dramas would be over by the 6th ep if the leads knew how to communicate.

[drey @thisdogewrites]

May a hiring manager who isn't sure about me never reach out with a job opening.

[drey @thisdogewrites]

They went ahead with other candidates. Prepped for this interview harder than any other interview in life. Didn't work out.

[drey @thisdogewrites]

My life can change today. In just a 30-minute slot.

And if it does, i shall be grateful for all the pain and misery I've faced in solitude.

[drey @thisdogewrites]

Gave my best. Don't think it worked out.

We live on.

[Mohit Chauhan @mohitlaws]

Rapist & former BJP MLA Kuldeep Singh Sengar:

>Raped a 17-year-old minor girl.
>Police did not act against him.
>Girl attempted self-immolation.
>Case was later taken up by CBI
>Killed victim's father
>a court convicted him of rape.
>sentenced to life imprisonment.
>a truck of his associates deliberately rammed into the victim’s car
>two aunts of victim died on the spot
>victim & her lawyer got critically injured
>Delhi HC suspended his life sentence.
>Delhi High Court also granted him bail.
>Police detained the protesting family & victim at India Gate.
>Now, the lives of other family members are also under threat.

Law & order and judicial system of new India.🤡

[Farzana Ali Mazari 🇮🇳 @farzlicioustahe]

As a Shia family living in Hyderabad's Old City, we found it increasingly difficult to live peacefully. Sunnis attacked our shop and harassed me on my way home from school.

Unable to endure this ongoing torment, many Shias in the area retreated to smaller, safer enclaves. Even there, Sunnis pressured us to leave, claiming, "This is a Sunni area—you shouldn't stay here. Your presence here causes us distress."

We filed complaints with the authorities, but they yielded no results. Only during election seasons did Owaisi visit our community, assuring us that no harm would come to us—but the rest of the time, life felt like hell.

Eventually, we relocated from the Old City to a predominantly Hindu neighborhood in Manikonda. The difference was stark: we experienced far greater peace and security in the Hindu area compared to the Sunni-dominated Muslim one.

[ecomchigga @ecomchigga]

sat next to a guy on a flight who smelled like old money

rolex. tailored suit. reading a physical newspaper like it was 1987.

figured he was some finance executive or inherited wealth.

we got talking. I mentioned I sell stuff online.

he put down his newspaper.

"what kind of stuff?"

digital products. courses. ebooks. that kind of thing.

he smiled weird.

"I made $4 million last year selling a PDF about aquariums."

I thought he was messing with me.

he wasn't.

this guy is 61 years old. spent 30 years as an accountant. hated every second of it. retired at 55 with decent savings but nothing crazy.

his hobby was aquariums. had been keeping fish tanks since he was 12.

"my wife told me to start a blog so I'd stop boring her with fish facts."

so he did. wrote about aquarium stuff 3 times a week. water chemistry. tank setups. fish compatibility.

for 2 years nobody read it.

"I had maybe 50 visitors a month. all probably bots."

but he kept going because he had nothing else to do.

year 3, one article ranked on google. then another. then another.

suddenly he was getting 100K visitors a month. all people searching for aquarium help.

"I realized these people would probably pay for a complete guide. so I wrote one."

147 pages. everything about setting up and maintaining an aquarium.

priced it at $47.

first month: $6K
first year: $340K
last year: $4.2 million

from a PDF about fish tanks.

I asked about his marketing strategy.

"I don't have one. google sends people to my blog. blog mentions the guide. people buy it. I go play golf."

no email sequence?

"I have a newsletter. I send fish tips once a week. sometimes I mention the guide at the bottom. that's it."

no upsells?

"I made a second guide about saltwater tanks specifically. $67. people who bought the first one usually buy the second. that's my whole business."

no team?

"my wife helps with customer service. we get maybe 10 emails a day. most are just people showing us their tanks."

this 61 year old retiree built a bigger business than most "entrepreneurs" I know.

no ads. no funnel hacks. no growth strategies. no personal brand.

just mass expertise in one weird niche and patience to let it compound.

before we landed he gave me advice I didn't ask for:

"everyone your age wants to get rich fast. that's why most of you stay broke. I wrote about fish for 2 years before making a dollar. now I make more than I did in 30 years of accounting. speed is overrated. patience pays."

the plane landed. he grabbed his newspaper and walked off.

probably went home to feed his fish.

[hyein. @nayalimzz]

On hiatus, sabotaged, and hated by their own company, yet still pulling these numbers is pinsane. Newjeans are really on another level.

[About Music @AboutMusicYT]

Forbes has named NewJeans as the #10 kpop artist of 2025.

[︎ ︎venom @venom1s]

Kanishka Gaud

- 16 years old
- Her dream was to join the NDA and serve the nation
- She met with an accident on November 12th
- She was declared brain-dead
- Her parents made a selfless decision
- Her organs gave life to five people at AIIMS, Jodhpur
- Three people got a new life with her liver and kidneys
- Two got their sight restored

May her soul rest in peace. She continues to live on in the five people she saved.

Respect and gratitude to her noble parents.

[drey @thisdogewrites]

@LeksDeee @giveupdontup Absolutely!

[drey @thisdogewrites]

@LeksDeee @giveupdontup Artists like Exo and TVXQ managed to terminate contracts by establishing the unequal income distribution, health concerns and length of the contracts.

It's not impossible, newjeans (their parents and legal counsel, actually) should've done a better job

[yuha shady facts @love2yuha]

Kpop artists with the most won court cases
Newjeans — 3
Wonyoung — 2
ALL against cyber wreckers who love to belittle and dehumanize women.

[inqilāb @tastefullysaucy]

Is South Korea a safe haven for rapists? Because what do you mean a man guilty of sexually assaulting 5 women only got 2 years & when he came out he violently raped another, beat her so bad she got cerebral hemorrhage & optic nerve damage & the court wont issue an arrest warrant?

[MOHINI WEALTH (NRI) @MohiniWealth]

On the night of May 20, 2025, a little girl in a faded pink frock fell asleep on her mother’s lap at Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Terminus. Her parents, simple people from Solapur, had come to Mumbai for her father’s treatment. They were exhausted. Just for a moment, the mother closed her eyes.

When she opened them, her daughter was gone.

Six months.
Six months of walking from police station to police station.
Six months of showing the same crumpled photograph to strangers on trains, in slums, in orphanages.
Six months of the father not sleeping, the mother not eating, both of them growing hollow-eyed, whispering the same name into the dark: “Aarohi… Aarohi…”

In Varanasi, a thousand kilometres away, a tiny girl with no memory of her real name was learning to call herself “Kashi.” She had been found crying near the railway tracks in June, barefoot and terrified. The orphanage gave her food, a bed, and a new name. She smiled easily, because children always do, but sometimes at night she clutched the edge of her blanket and asked for “Aai” — Marathi for mother — and no one understood.

Back in Mumbai, the police refused to close the file. They printed posters with Aarohi’s face, stuck them on every platform from Lokmanya Tilak Terminus to Bhusawal to Varanasi Cantt. They ran newspaper ads, knocked on doors, begged journalists for help. Six months is a long time for hope to stay alive, but some officers carried her photograph in their shirt pockets like it was their own child.

Then, on November 13, a local reporter in Varanasi saw the poster. Something clicked. He had seen a girl who spoke Marathi words in her sleep. He made a phone call.

The next morning, a Mumbai Police inspector sat in front of a laptop in Varanasi and opened a video call. On the screen appeared a little girl in a pink frock — the same colour she was wearing the day she vanished. The mother, standing behind the officer in Mumbai, saw her daughter and collapsed without a sound. The father just kept repeating, “That’s my Aarohi… that’s my baby…”

They flew her back on Children’s Day — November 14.

When the plane landed, the entire Mumbai Crime Branch was waiting. They had bought her balloons and a new frock, sky blue this time. But the moment the little girl stepped out and saw the sea of khaki uniforms, she did something no one expected.

She ran.

Not away — toward them.

Tiny legs pumping, arms outstretched, she threw herself at the nearest officer and laughed — the purest, clearest laugh that had been missing from the world for half a year. The officer, a tough man who had seen everything, felt his eyes burn. He lifted her high, and she wrapped her arms around his neck like he was family.

Her parents were crying too hard to walk. So the policemen carried their daughter to them.

The mother touched her face again and again, as if checking she was real. The father fell to his knees and pressed his forehead to his child’s tiny feet, sobbing words no one could understand except God.

And the little girl? She just kept smiling, looking from her parents to the officers and back again, completely unaware that she had turned an entire police station into a sobbing, laughing, praying family.

Six months of darkness ended in one hug.

Aarohi is home now.
The kidnapper is still out there, but that is tomorrow’s fight.

Today, a mother is singing lullabies again.
Today, a father is smiling in his sleep.
And somewhere in Mumbai, there are policemen who will never forget the weight of a four-year-old girl in their arms — the weight of an entire life returned.

Sometimes the uniform doesn’t just catch thieves.
Sometimes it carries lost children all the way back to their mothers’ hearts.