His auto number because I am so scared of these people nowadays,since the pickup location was also my home.I just want to say I always feel unsafe with Ola and I am deleting the app for good
@Olacabs I booked an auto after ages from Ola app,the driver was so mean,he dropped me at a location which was around 1km away from my destination,I had to go for physiotherapy and he insisted I pay and leave because he was running late,
I told him i can’t walk much but he kept insisting that he is running late and according to him this was the drop but I even showed him the exact drop location on my phone,in the end I was forced to walk,and I can’t even share his name or,
This line from Atomic Habits isn't ready to leave my head:
"It doesn't make sense to continue wanting something if you're not willing to do what it takes to get it. If you don't want to live the lifestyle, then release yourself from the desire. To crave the result but not the process is to guarantee disappointment."
Let me give you a reality check.
India has seen protests before. But this one is different.
Earlier, many mass movements were led by people who already had stable jobs, financial security, and a safety net. They could afford to spend days on the streets because losing one week didn’t mean losing their future.
Today’s youth don’t have that privilege.
Many of the faces you saw at the CJP protest weren’t just NEET aspirants. Some were former aspirants. Some had spent 6, 8, even 10 years preparing for one competitive exam after another. Some crossed 30. Some exhausted their savings. Some watched friends move on while they remained trapped in an endless cycle of forms, postponements, paper leaks, vacancies that never came, and recruitment processes that stretched for years.
People mock them by asking, “Does a 30 year old look like a NEET aspirant?”
No. They look like the outcome of a broken system with nothing to lose.
They look like someone who was told since childhood that education would change their life, only to discover that merit means little when exams are repeatedly cancelled, recruitment is delayed, and opportunities keep shrinking.
History shows the same pattern.
The JP Movement of the 1970s wasn’t just about politics. It was fuelled by students angry over unemployment, inflation, corruption, and a government that had stopped listening.
The Mandal Commission protests were about more than reservations, they reflected deep anxiety over limited government jobs and a generation terrified about its future.
Across the world, whether it was the Arab Spring or student-led movements in Europe and Latin America, prolonged unemployment and the feeling of having no future became powerful forces behind public unrest.
When an entire generation starts believing that hard work no longer guarantees dignity, the problem is no longer individual failure. It becomes a failure of governance.
A government cannot promise every citizen a government job.
But it is responsible for creating opportunities, conducting fair and timely recruitment, protecting the integrity of examinations, and ensuring that young people don’t spend the best years of their lives waiting for a result that never arrives.
Hope is not built through slogans.
Hope is built when effort is rewarded.
And when that hope disappears, frustration doesn’t stay inside coaching classrooms forever.
One day, it reaches the streets.
When thousands of young people decide that protesting feels more meaningful than studying for the next exam, that should alarm every government, regardless of which party is in power.
Because the biggest crisis isn’t unemployment.
It’s a generation slowly losing faith that tomorrow will be better than today 🙏🏻
@amazonIN I am facing issues with deliveries since months,after multiple calls to customer care support and everything getting cancelled,I am done with this platform
I saw this meme a few days ago, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
Can you?
There’s something so profound about this little penguin. At first everything seems fine, he’s walking with another penguin. Suddenly his friend turns back to the colony. He watches soberly as they walk away, back toward the sea, back toward safety. Then he turns in the opposite direction. Ahead of him are distant, enormous mountains, far away, barren, cold, and seemingly without food or life. The tiny penguin starts walking towards them. Away from his colony, away from his friends… walking towards something he can’t hope to defeat, but going there anyway.
Why does he do it?
And why does this little penguin resonate with people so deeply?
Why does it resonate with me?
Maybe it’s existentialism.
What I mean is that we live in a culture shaped by materialism. Today we’re told that we’re floating through an endless void on a speck within a speck within a speck. We’re told that all of us will die and disappear into a true nothingness for all of eternity. That our lives have no ultimate meaning, no final purpose, no cosmic significance whatsoever.
Within that framework, there are only two real responses. You can give up, lay down… and wait for the abyss. Or you can face it, moving with a purpose you create, knowing it won’t matter… but doing it anyway.
This is the heart of existentialist philosophy. Life has no meaning. There is no point to any of this. Nothing you do ultimately matters. And yet, you should still act. You should still choose. You should still live as if it mattered.
There’s something almost heroic about it.
Or maybe it’s absurd.
Is the penguin a symbol of existential courage? There’s no meaning. There’s no reason. But he walks forward anyway.
Maybe.
But I don’t think it goes far enough.
What if there’s an even deeper reason why this penguin grips people?
We’ve been told, repeatedly, that life is meaningless and that our suffering is pointless. Today, like this little penguin, many people feel profoundly alone. Abandoned by their families. Abandoned by institutions. Abandoned by their country. Sometimes it even seems we’ve been abandoned by God.
And yet, deep down, almost no one truly believes this story.
We feel, stubbornly and persistently, that there’s something worth striving for. That even when things look bleak and grim, they’re not meaningless. That even when we can’t see the plan, there is one. That even when the path ahead looks like death, it is not the end.
Perhaps that’s why the penguin doesn’t strike us as foolish.
He strikes us as brave.
Something in us recognizes his walk towards those mountains.
Christianity teaches that human beings are made for meaning. We are oriented toward purpose. We are created to seek truth, goodness, and God. So when we’re told that none of that exists, something in us resists.
That resistance is not irrational.
It’s human.
In a Christian reading, the penguin is not rebelling against meaning. He’s rebelling against the claim that there is no meaning. He’s refusing to live as if the bleak story he’s been told is true.
The wilderness is a familiar theme in the Christian story. God’s people walk through it again and again. Often without clarity. Often without comfort. Often without visible assurance. They walk when they can’t see the destination. They walk when the path looks like it will lead to nothing but disaster.
Faith, in that sense, is not certainty. It’s perseverance.
Sometimes faith means continuing forward when you feel abandoned. Sometimes it means trusting that the seeming abyss ahead is not death, even when you can’t imagine it being anything else. Sometimes it means holding the line when you can’t feel God and you have no idea where the road leads.
And sometimes, it even means walking away from your friends and family.
Christianity has never been about following the safe path.
It’s always been about taking the road that looks foolish to the world. The narrow road. The road no one wants. The road that demands courage.
That is what the penguin is doing.
He takes the road no one else wants.
And deep down we know… we should too.