Category Archives: Festivals

5 Minute Read (5mr): A Day is Nothing More Than a Day

I’ve started this new ‘thing’ called “5mr”. It gives you a inspirational or philosophical point of view. I found these text on the internet and i want you guys to read it too. I’ll try and post it every week, preferably every Sunday. Hope you guys like what you read and implement these things in your life too.

What makes a day good or bad? Do you let events outside of your control define these labels? Or are YOU in control of your happiness?

Time and time again, on Facebook, twitter, in conversations, there is always someone that is having a bad day. Is it you? Well, if you are having a bad day, why? You locked your keys in your car? Slipped on the ice? People treated you badly? Woke up late? Stubbed your toe? Cussed out by your boss? Got a speeding ticket? Just feel like shit? Whatever the reason, no matter how small or large, you must learn to take responsibility and realize that it is YOU that is deciding to label the day bad. Yes, many things can and will happen that are outside of your control. These may not align with your definition of a “good day”. There will be many events that occur that you oppose. This is normal, this is life. However, whether you know it or not, you are in complete control of how you respond to these situations.

Let’s say you lock your keys in your car when you’re already late for work. The event already happened, the keys are stuck and you’re late. Yes, this does suck. Yes, it is easy to be frustrated over this situation. There is nothing you can do to change the fact that you locked your keys in your car and you’re late. Time does not go backwards. Trying to fight something that can not be changed is simply insane. If this were to happen to you, would you get angry? Would you be frustrated? Would this be a start to a bad day? If so, consider this – How you feel, at any moment, is completely your responsibility. Frustration and anger are not caused from the event, they are caused from your reaction to the event.

“But things just keep going wrong today!” Then why make it worse by labeling the day as bad? A day is nothing more than a day. You have to eventually realize that the day or experience is only bad because you are deciding that it is bad. I find it interesting that when pointing this out to anyone who is having a “bad day” how often it is completely rejected. “It’s not my fault I’m angry!” Yes it is. “It’s not my fault I’m frustrated!” Yes it is. Denying this is completely irresponsible.

Note that you’re not taking responsibility for the event. It may not be your fault that so-and-so said such-and-such, or that someone stole your phone, but if you’re upset over the episode, it’s all on you. It’s completely insane and unconscious to claim that you can not change your reaction to a situation. Are you a mindless drone? Take some conscious action and stop acting helpless.

It may feel like it is beyond your control. It may be so ingrained in your mind that when x happens you need to react with y. Perhaps x = someone yelling at you and y = crying. The reaction could be unconscious, but you need to learn to shift this to your conscious mind. You don’t always have to follow x with y. You are a conscious self aware being after all, right?

I’m definitely not suggesting never feeling sad, upset, frustrated, or angry. I’m pretty sure I would sound crazy if that were the case. But the first step is to understand that you are reacting. Just become aware of it. Notice how it feels. The next time you feel your body switching into anger mode, shift into the present moment. Don’t just count to 10. Feel how you feel. Notice the reaction. Once the awareness of your reaction becomes more apparent, it’s then time to shift from reaction to response. Yes, you can consciously respond to any situation in any way you choose rather than unconsciously reacting. Flail your arms in the air right now. Who did that? You did. In the same way, you can choose to respond to anything however you wish.

Of course, physical pain is completely different. If someone punches you in the face it’s not your fault you feel pain. You’re hurt because of the fist, not because you’re choosing to be hurt. If you catch the flu and are puking your guts out, you can’t just choose to feel healthy. But even in a situation like this, you can choose to not whine, complain and act helpless. You can still be happy even when you don’t feel like it. There is still a response you can give to something like this.

Hoping for a good day tomorrow goes against all logic. Why hope for a good day? Why not just decide to have a good day? And why tomorrow, why not now? Tomorrow never even really exists, you never live in tomorrow, you always live in today, in the now. So, instead of wishing a good or bad day, from now on I’m just going to wish for a day. You either have a day or you don’t and I’d prefer to have one.

So, with that being said, I hope you all have a day today.

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The silent suffering

genie

Academy award winner Robin Williams was found lifeless in his apartment on 11th of august. The media reported that he was suffering from depression. On 12th of august it was announced that he cut his left hand wrists and he died due to asphyxiation because of hanging. Robin Williams was a comedy legend and also starred in amazing films like Dead poets Society, Jumanji, Good Will Hunting.

10 days ago I watched Williams The weapons of mass destruction standup and his standup was terribly funny. If he would’ve died normally, the world would’ve been sad but he passed away, unfortunately, because of depression. Williams’ death should be a wakeup call to everyone. You don’t have to seem sad to be depressed. Depression and all mental illness are very serious. People learn how to cope with it but that doesn’t mean they’re okay. This is a time to reach out to people you know that suffer from depression or mental illnesses and tell them that no matter what you’re here for them whenever they need support.

It’s sad that one of the funniest people in the world had to die for people to realize that depression is an actual illness.

“There were a lot of comments on Twitter about how much Robin Williams was loved and what a shame that he didn’t know it. I didn’t know Robin Williams, but I bet he did know that he was loved. I know that I am loved. Maybe not on a Robin Williams scale, but I have friends and family who would do anything for me, and I absolutely know this. But there comes a point where love does not matter. When things are bad, I don’t care that people love me. All I can see is that I’m a burden, that everything I have ever done is wrong, and that these good people who love me are wrong as well. At my lowest, love cannot save me. Hope, prayers, daily affirmations—none of these can save me. Therapy and medicine are what matter, and those don’t always work either.” –Molly Pohlig

Here’s a series of tweets by a twitter user telling the world to treat depression as an illness. depression tweets

You might be suffering from C.D.W.S.

Anamika was a smart, intelligent girl. She had graduated from a top-engineering college last year and had joined a very reputed MNC. She had made her parents proud. Real proud!

Anamika’s parents had lived all their days in frugality saving for her education and now their daughter was drawing a five digit salary. They had to be proud. Anamika, too, was on the top of the world making sure her parents now had access to all the comforts her money could buy. New TV, refrigerator, washing machine, food processor, a high-end smartphone for herself. She had got them everything.

Then suddenly one day Anamika came home like she had fell in a hell hole. Her parents asked her what had happened. She said she didn’t knew. She was walking on her way back home and had fell in some uncovered manhole on the road. Her parents were worried but they forgot about it as an accident.

However few days later the same thing happened again. She had the same reply – She didn’t knew how she fell into it. Now things started getting a ‘Lil more weird. Anamika would be falling while walking in the office alleyways, at times on her office floor. Sometimes she would just go bump into people or walls or lift doors. Her parents got real worried. They asked her to take leave from the office for few days and take rest at home. She did. But things didn’t change. She would fall while visiting the bathroom from the bedroom, at times stumble and fall while visiting the kitchen. Once she even bumped into the refrigerator.

Her dad took her to a hospital. There were several tests done but nothing came out. The doctors were confused themselves. They hadn’t seen something this strange in years of their medical careers. Unable to help they asked her parents to take her home and just take good care of her. And they did!

Then one day Raj came over to visit her at her home. Raj was a childhood friend and a family acquaintance. Raj was a medical student completing his final years of college. Anamika’s father told Raj about her condition and how worried he was about her. Raj asked him since when had all this started. He explained him all about the new job at the MNC, the money, the joy it brought, the home appliances, the smartphone etc.etc.

Raj immediately told him – Uncle, I think I know what she’s suffering from. It’s called “Compulsive Depressive Whatsapp Syndrome” Just deactivate the Whatsapp on her phone and she’ll be normal again. No more falling on stairs, roads, office desks, bumping into walls or people. This – my friend – is how Raj saved Anamika’s life.

Moral : Don’t keep looking into your smartphone while walking.

So, do you have Compulsive Depressive Whatsapp Syndrome? (C.D.W.S.)

Post originally taken from The Frustrated Indian of Facebook.

You can also find me on Facebook.

My musings and rants on Twitter.

The Empty Hearse: Well, the short version…Not dead!

Just the two of us against the rest of the world!

Just the two of us against the rest of the world!

Oh man. Sherlock’s BACK, and with a wild hope.

First of all, let me say I don’t envy Mark Gatiss and the writers. They had to set out to accomplish, with style, several very difficult objectives:
1) provide a satisfyingly clever explanation for how Sherlock faked his death;
2) explain *why* he then spent TWO EFFING YEARS after said death not telling John (when he was perfectly okay working with Molly and various other accomplices etc);
3) lay out and respect the seriousness of John’s grief, and yet have them grope towards some sort of relationship again by the end of the 90 minutes; and
4) show how each of these men have changed in those two years apart in a way that makes character sense, because there is no way Sherlock’s death wouldn’t traumatize John, and I’d argue that not even Sherlock would emerge unscathed from the experience of gaining, and then suddenly losing, a bond that pressed deeper than any had ever before.

Like every other fan, for two years I’ve been following the vigorous fan speculation about How He Did It, and I think it would’ve been impossible for the series to satisfy everyone – because of course, there’s only so much you can do without a Derren Brown. I actually think the writers succeeded here in treating this impossible task with the amount of weight it deserved – which isn’t much beyond style, but damn, what style! The Rashomon gallops from the spectacular, to the hilarious, to finally calming down and getting to the quiet and serious bits. We got three gorgeous setpieces that toyed around rather cheekily with our fan theories, showing a naughty bit of thigh here and there, but in the end the answer was: well, we’ll (probably) never find out. Which can be frustrating, but I think it’s also expected if Sherlock is to keep at least some of his aura intact.

“I don’t care about the how,” says John. “What I want to know is the why.” Because out of all the vital plots that needed to be figured out in this comeback, the most important one was this – where are John and Sherlock now? Their odd gravitational pull once seemed practically rebellious in its refusal to not exist like all the forces of logic and reason would’ve dictated, but one of its halves watched it smash into the pavement and the other stumbled away with the pieces into another orbit. Because the very last time Sherlock saw John – yes it was at gunpoint, yes not even Sherlock and his massive brain could’ve clevered its way out of this one, but the point is that the very last thing Sherlock did was crush the beating heart of this show with his own hands.

Because it may bear his name, but the show’s never been about Sherlock: it’s always been about Sherlock and John, John and Sherlock. Moriarty didn’t need to put a bullet through John’s head to destroy that; if he could just make Sherlock hide forever, if he could make Sherlock do something unforgivable, then he would win in the only way it mattered. He didn’t even need to be there to see it, because he’d already seen how it’d play out … Sherlock’s body, bleeding out on the ground, John frozen in place a foot and a lifetime away. Why fulfill your promises yourself if you can make your target do it for you?

In the end, Sherlock did burn the heart out of himself.

Does Sherlock have a heart?

That’s one of the biggest mysteries of this entire show, isn’t it? Even though we know that Sherlock isn’t some unfeeling psychopath who only cares about puzzles like Donovan says, if you think about how Sherlock treats the ‘little’ people around him. well, it’s not typically a pleasant experience for them. From their perspective, he really is this brilliant, clinical freak; this alien species so utterly superior in intellect that we’re just lab rats to observe and dissect and snark. That’s why what unfolds in Reichenbach Falls isn’t unbelievable: Sherlock’s genius is a marvel, but it’s also an intellectual bully that never remembers its victims; Sherlock saves people, yet you always get the sense it’s for himself.

His own pride, his own amusement. We are worthy of his energy only insofar as our puzzles are worthy. Sherlock goes beyond just ignoring social niceties or social norms; Sherlock ignores people. If the game is dangling in front of him he’ll zip over humans and their human things – things like feelings, and hopes, and fiercest needs – without glancing back.

So to somehow get – make – what he had with John is a freaking miracle. Because Sherlock’s not supposed to have the motivation, must less the ability. Because Sherlock only has enemies, or worshippers.

Not friends.

The whole first two seasons is this process of humanizing Sherlock, not by bringing him down to earth but by bringing the earth to him. Through John we inadvertently set off on this exploration of how far Sherlock can be humanized. But look back on A Study in Pink, and look at how desperate and enraged Sherlock was at the cabby dying in front of him, still clinging to the answer with his rodent like smirk to the very end. That was all Sherlock cared about in that moment: was I right? God, was I right? Because Sherlock cares more about being right than being alive.

Sherlock cares more about being right than living.

John sort of falls into Sherlock’s orbit by pure cosmic chance. Maybe if he’d sat down for a rest on another bench, their only intersection in this world would be the one where a mystery rips into John’s life; where Sherlock strides through the soft places with careless elbows like he does in all the other ordinaries, and John’s fist curls in his pocket beside the lame leg. However it happens, John saves Sherlock’s life in A Study in Pink, and from then on he keeps saving Sherlock’s life.

Not that Sherlock pays much attention at first, of course, though John’s sharpshooting is rather handy. But not even Sherlock can dismiss a man as a prop forever, and by being unable to dismiss this other thing, this solid human thing that actually wants to travel and sleep by Sherlock’s solitary roads, to name it quite brilliant where others would say freakish, Sherlock begins to find that he doesn’t really want to dismiss it. That there are things he almost … likes outside the Game. Things that he finds, somehow, in their own way… fun.

John is a fan of Sherlock in the sense that Sherlock is a fan of Sherlock.

Sherlock is perfectly fine if people don’t understand how wonderful and brilliant Sherlock is, but this is a bit of an unforeseen wrench in plans: that finding of the one person in the whole world who shares your secret delight.

It’s quite splendid, really.

John isn’t about to make Sherlock nice or interested in people-feelings or even vaguely presentable enough to take home to your mum, but he does poke at all those neglected places in Sherlock, which then reminds everyone they exist. Sherlock doesn’t have to be ordinary, but he doesn’t have to be a freak either. He can say things like “sorry”. He can feel real fear, and real pain, when John gets kidnapped and strapped to a bomb. He can feel something inside him thud for someone else.

Sherlock has seen a lot of victims, but the first one that really hurts – hurts on an emotional level, not just wrings his brain – is John. He may not have even realized it until he stood on that roof, but he certainly realized it after being forced to shred it up. What is it they say? You don’t really know what something’s worth till it’s gone…

In two years John obviously changes in his grieving – the mustache an amusing physical manifestation of how fast he’s aged inside – but Sherlock to me has changed even more underneath that perfectly preserved peacoat. At first, I was a little disappointed Sherlock seemed so fresh rather than more overtly traumatized, because he’s been in hiding for two insanely stressful years in crime cells, and even more importantly, because this is the first time he’s ever given himself to something so serious – and then had it wrenched away in one fell swoop.

So I would’ve guessed that Sherlock might’ve come back a little cut up, in all honesty. Being lurched back into loneliness after experiencing a tiny glimmer of what Not Lonely might feel like isn’t a trivial thing. But after some further reflection, even though I do still think the tone of this premiere leant to the irreverant/funny side to a surprising degree, I’ve decided that I don’t think Sherlock’s come back Perfectly Fine at all.

I actually think Sherlock’s come back terrified.

Specifically, with regards to John. Everything else is a certainty – London is his old stomping ground, Molly and Mycroft were already in on the scheme, Lestrade will always put up with the collateral damage of being in Sherlock’s life. John is the worry. John is his soul’s open-bottomed center.

Look at how casually Sherlock slips in a question about John as he dresses himself for his return – he frames it as a mission, that the only reason he’s returning to London is because Her Majesty demands it and Sherlock himself is rather eager to return to the hunt. He needs John for the mission, of course; he swerves – in rather clipped, brisk tones, flipping open the dossier – the dangerous notion that he might, simply, need John.

Sherlock doesn’t do serious very well – his main weapon is wit, whether acerbic or insolent. He switches to amusement as he studies the picture, dryly decimating the mustache and then sarcastically quipping he’ll just pop out of a cake. What I want to point out here, though, is that Sherlock’s other main armament is on full display here, and in fact throughout this entire damn episode: this kind of bratty, willful innocence. This determination to just ignore everything he doesn’t want to, this bloody single-minded resolve to just stride straight through and pretend he has no idea these silly humans would have these silly reactions because he’s Sherlock Holmes and he just doesn’t do humans, nope sir. That’s Sherlock’s fallback mode throughout this premiere when it comes to John. When Mycroft raises the unthinkable suggestion that John might have moved on with his life, Sherlock simply scoffs and barrels past – OF COURSE JOHN HASN’T CHANGED AND HAS TOTALLY BEEN WAITING FOR ME FOR TWO YEARS WHAT’S THAT YOU SAY LALALA CAN’T HEAR YOU – with a snort-grimace so transparent that it screams how long Sherlock’s been worried about exactly that.

But Sherlock, being Sherlock, isn’t about to come out and just say it. Instead, he has a good idea – he’ll just glide up behind John and surprise him like a really pleasant surprise and John will be SO shocked – but GOOD shocked – and, well, yay! Even better he’ll pull it off with this really clever and funny prank and so even though John probably hates him he’ll find the disguise – especially that matching mustache – so lovably-dastardly funny that he can’t help but be charmed! Sherlock, you genius!

I have a very strong suspicion that Sherlock does in fact know that his reception isn’t going to be a warm one. I don’t think Sherlock’s emotionally repressed as a character per se, but I do think he’s trying very hard to evade it here, how his insides feel like they’re trying to hollow themselves out. Because Sherlock’s never dealt well with the not knowing, and so Sherlock resorts to what is to him comfort food: a really childish trick that will probably still piss John off, but at the same time be so pathetically sad that John can’t stay mad at him. This is Sherlock saying, you know I’m stupid! Please don’t hate me…?

What’s really interesting is that Sherlock doesn’t lose his balance like this around anyone else. He is in complete and utter control of the rest of his city. He saunters back into Miss Hudson’s kitchen. He waits by the locker to give Molly Hooper a bit of a fright. He drawls his entrance to Lestrade from the gloom with his typical flair for the theatrical. But with John, Sherlock can’t pull off his usual pristine poise. With John, Sherlock has to grab at his Stupid Sherlock cap and pretend he has no idea why they’re not just jumping back into bed crime-solving together because that was totally fun. But what Sherlock’s really avoiding with his grim determination to keep it all lighthearted, of course, is the terror that the alternative – getting on his knees, treating it with the seriousness it deserves – would reveal both too much of Sherlock and not enough for John.

It’s not a joke to Sherlock at all. In fact, it’s precisely because it’s so not a joke that Sherlock has to joke to survive it.

We all know Sherlock can be such a child, but here I think it comes from a more adult place. Realizing that you’ve really, really fucked up, realizing that you really hurt someone, being terrified that you can’t make it okay again…. those are adult feelings, the sort of dangerous waters you only really start to navigate in adulthood. I can’t believe I’m saying it because Sherlock practically seems above mundane things like time but I think he has matured, and you can see it in the way he treats just about everyone with so much more recognizable decency than two seasons ago. He thanks Molly, spends a whole day with her, rips down that insecurity in her heart that says she doesn’t matter. He tolerates rather than eviscerate and drive away Mary on sight, as he has every other one of John’s girlfriends. He resists poking apart Train Man’s “girlfriend” to his face, even though it’s a devilishly easy target. He returns Lestrade’s embrace. He touches Anderson. He talks to his parents! Basically, he spends his first few days back in London affirming to people that they matter.

Most tellingly, he’s now spending time with Arch nemesis Mycroft, and burying almost this kind of concern in his usual snark: admit it. You’re lonely. Because in gaining and losing John Sherlock knows now that loneliness (not just boredom, loneliness) does exist for even people like them, and even though it’s embarrassingly sentimental that kind of half-life’s not enough for him anymore.

That’s why he comes back with a bang. Not in the sense that he developed all this elite skills dismantling international crime in Serbia, but in the way he throws himself into spinning and mending all these relationships that he probably didn’t even realize existed before John entered. His expressions are freer, more expressive – when he’s frustrated, he’s really frustrated; when he’s playful, he’s really playful. When he tries to wrack his mind palace for answers towards the end, you can see his face just contort in pain and desperation. Not that Sherlock’s gone and turned into a jester or an emo, but look at how fully he inhabits his body now compared to when he was languishing on the couch in wait of a mystery to save him … It’s like he wants to catch up on all he’s missed – not just in the last two years, but in the previous thirty-something.

Sherlock really has grown, and I think it says so much that the one person he can’t show it to is John.

That’s not entirely his fault – John doesn’t give him the chance to prove himself after the first re-encounter, and the next instance was hardly the best time for a heartfelt talk. Sherlock saving him deserves a bit of begrudging thanks, of course, but John’s still wary, more willing to fall back into the rhythm of the Game than of John and Sherlock. It’s only the ticking train bomb at the end of the episode that finally provides the needed push for them to let it all out. No more joking now, no more pretending. Their spat is a vicious one, battered by deeper currents than the specter of imminent death: John blames Sherlock for a helluva lot more than not calling the police (why do you never call the police? translates: why do you always do this to me?), and Sherlock is angry-hurt-afraid that this worst scenario of his is playing out, this world where John refuses to accept how seriously Sherlock means his sorry, even though he means it more than he ever has anything in his life.

In the end Sherlock’s Return to London plays out the only way, I think, it could’ve: Sherlock on his knees, begging a distraught John for forgiveness, like it’s the last chance for real this time. And if you really listen, Sherlock’s apology is revelatory of the direction his guilt wanders:

“If I hadn’t come back you wouldn’t be standing there…you’d still have a future …with Mary -”

Sherlock loves playing the over-dramatic, but I think he revealed too much of his hand this time. You see, in his exile, Sherlock probably thought up plenty of scenarios for John in a Life Without Sherlock. Some of these were terribly insipid and colorless and boring of course, Sherlock’s ego couldn’t imagine otherwise; but in others, John wouldn’t feel compelled to shackle himself to a life that strapped him to bombs, or pinned him in front of crossbows, or flushed him into the path of a sniper’s scope. John would be safe. John would have a perfectly ordinary life. And incredibly, because of John, Sherlock’s not so inclined to dismiss those as worse than death anymore.

If Sherlock hadn’t returned, John might’ve indeed found a better life without him.

And yet he returned.

Two things:

1) A small part of Sherlock thinks taking John back was selfish.

2) Sherlock feels guilty for it. Now this is new. Because worrying about someone in danger isn’t an unfamiliar sensation anymore to Sherlock, but feeling guilt about being the one to place them there? That’s inner conflict. That’s room for character growth. That’s a route I can actually see this season going if it’s a dark one, because in his exultant love for the Game has Sherlock ever really, truly thought about all its consequences? Has the Game ever ratcheted its demands so far as to force him to choose between this life, and the other?

We know how deeply Sherlock cares about John, but does he care enough to let him go?

Of course, we can’t have the series becoming too emotional, so the show undercuts the pouring-his-heart-out scene with a “TADA! It was a prank all along!”, because Sherlock is a lovable troll and Sherlock always wins somehow in the end, including things like John’s forgiveness. It’s almost a relief, because now we can get back to the way things were again without the awkward. But I think the ending gets the point across: every word each of them confessed to the other was true. Sherlock used up his magic trick with John at Reichenbach Falls; now they both know each others secrets.

In the end they return to the same place; it’s just themselves who’ve changed.

Random thoughts:

  •  Judging by interviews I have a darker take than Gatiss and co, who have already said this series will be ‘funnier’ than before. I love my camp and I’ve already rambled my feelings above about how lighthearted doesn’t necessarily mean trivial, but I also worry that going for laughs while trying to keep that emotional core will make this series very, very busy indeed. That was probably my main rec for the episode – there were so many things going on here with all veering in tone that it was very difficult for one thread to stand out and hold everything together. The Empty Hearse club, three separate fake-out explanations, Jack the Ripper, Guy Fawkes, London trains, Sherlock reversing the tables on Mycroft, John and Mary, the sequence where Mary and Molly showed they couldn’t make up for the real thing, Sherlock’s parents, John Getting Kidnapped, Sheriarty, TWO Sherlolly kisses, Anderson’s hysterical breakdown, the incredible amount of those flashy fast-forward shots that are this show’s trademark. I know that this is probably setting up several plots for the next episode, but I really think this premiere would’ve worked better if it stripped down some of the frill and allowed more space for the characters to breathe. Let us get to know them again. With Sherlock engaged in such a whirlwind of activity, his character almost seems too stretched between all the people he has to reclaim again. It’s too deft. It’s as if John aside, Sherlock sweeps his life back together with such ease that it almost feels triumphant, when he’s a character who already “wins” so much that a lot of his tragedy comes from the way he pays a price for his victory – in wrapping all his worth in the game, in hurting people he didn’t need to, in rejecting opportunities for something more even when they’re thrust in front of him over and over again. Now, troll or not, Sherlock actually seems to know what he’s doing on a human level – especially with John back on his side – which makes me wonder where he can go from here. I’d be terribly disappointed if he ends up a clever parlor trick, the genius detective that refuses to be housebroken rather than a man who spent two years on the run, and another thirty-something on a different kind of one. As a fan for example I welcomed the chance to see his parents, but I can’t help but feel that this episode would’ve been better served keeping them as a nugget to explore later. Just to watch Sherlock, just Sherlock, in quiet a little bit.
  • There’s Something About Mary. She knows about skip codes, she was the one sent the text – something else is going on here. I’d be very curious to see how they met.
  • Couldn’t Sherlock have called and have them simply arrest North Korea guy earlier? He didn’t necessarily have to carry the trigger, but they might’ve gotten intel on who did. This entire plot was a bit thin given the stakes Mycroft kept impressing to us viewers (apparently Sherlock is now James Bond).
  • Molly’s new boyfriend looks like a bit taller, I approve, but he’s probably a serial killer.

Sherlock: His Last Vow will melt the entire internet! *SPOILER FREE*

Forget the ambiguous solution to the Fall. Put the baggy, mawkish wedding episode behind you. Because Sunday night’s Sherlock finale is a scintillating return to form that will melt the Internet and drain the Monday-morning water-cooler within half an hour. His Last Vow ticks all the boxes. For Sherlock Holmes sticklers, the episode is based solidly on an original Arthur Conan Doyle story and also makes meaningful use of plot devices and characters from elsewhere in the canon.

Sherlock fans will be squeezing throughout at twists, turns and revelations – and the cliffhanger ending might just make their heads explode. Meanwhile, general viewers in search of a smart, thrilling adventure and great performances will be satisfied too.

Lars Mikkelsen manages to be simultaneously magnetic and repellent as master blackmailer Charles Augustus Magnussen, the man who believes he can own anyone he chooses. It’s a scene-stealing performance from the Danish star better known to fans of The Killing as mayoral candidate Troels Hartmann. Look out for the shockingly casual way in which he desecrates Sherlock’s Baker Street sitting room.

In an interview earlier this year, Martin Freeman joked that “the show’s not called John yet”, but after this episode it almost feels like it should be. The idea that Dr Watson is simply the everyman foil to the more flamboyant characters is called into question with a neat bit of analysis of John’s psyche. If there’s a let down, it’s the denouement of the main story, which serves Mikkelsen’s character badly and makes Sherlock appear rather naive – but that will quickly be blasted out of viewers’ brains by the mind-boggling final moments.

I will be posting an episode by episode analysis soon after the season comes to an end. Until then, bis bald (german for see you soon).

Recommendation: sherlock, BBC

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An advice for 2014.

The year 2013 is gonna end? Is it? Isn’t it a bit too early for this year to end? So many questions and not many answers. 😦

I’m writing this in the middle of the night on my phone. I am tired and i can’t sleep. So, i am gonna give you an advice which comes to you FREE! FREE! FREE! I’ve got some great things lined up for myself and my followers in the next year. I know you do too! I can’t wait to hear your new years resolutions on Facebook.

Do what you love. Keep your brain sharp and read this:

There will always be setbacks. You will make mistakes. Others will also do the same. You are not born on this earth to entertain anyone. You can’t please everyone! There will be some people who will try to keep you on their level when they see you trying to rise ahead. Stay true to what you are and why you’re doing it. That’s what makes you a true person. Find compelling reasons to continue when the going gets tough.

Do what you love because you love it, not to please other people! Dream it. Believe it. Achieve it.

Welcome! This is 2014.

Long Live Revolution: The Story of Sardar Bhagat Singh (1)

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Sardar Bhagat Singh comes of a well-known Sikh family from the district of Lyallpur. His ancestors were Khalsa Sardars who, under Maharaja Ranjit Singh, helped in the spread of the Sikh Kingdom against the turbulent Pathans on the west and the dangerous English on the east. For helping the Sikh rulers with life and blood, this family was rewarded with considerable land.

Bhagat Singh’s grandfather, Sardar Arjun Singh was a big landlord. Though more than 80 years old, he is still strong and used to take keen interest in the proceedings of the Lahore Conspiracy Case. He is full of nationalist spirit. His brother’s son (son of Surjan Singh), Sardar Bahadur Dilbagh Singh and others, through their services to the Government, have grown rich and are now prosperous and men of rank and title. But Sardar Arjun Singh chose another path which inevitably leads to poverty and obscurity. The grandmother of Sardar Bhagat Singh, Smt. Jaikaur, is a typical old woman of Hindu family. It is she who has brought up all her sons and grandsons. She is a very brave lady; still she talks of Sufi Amba Prasad, one of the pioneer nationalists of India, who used to visit them. Once the police came to arrest Sufi Sahib, while he was in the house of Sardar Arjun Singh. But the brave lady saved him by a clever trick.

Sardar Arjun Singh had three sons, Sardar Kishen Singh, Sardar Ajit Singh and Sardar Swaran Singh. All the three brothers are known throughout the Punjab for their sincere love of country. Their patriotism has stood the severest test of imprisonment, banishment and poverty.

It was Sardar Ajit Singh who is reputed to have drawn Lala Lajpat Rai to the field of political service for the motherland. Though quite rich, Sardar Ajit Singh forsook the comforts of a home-life and began to organize the Punjab for political emancipation. At this time, i.e., about 1904 and 1905, the partition of Bengal came as Godsend. The violent and continued agitation in Bengal over this act of Lord Curzon had reverberations in the distant Punjab where Lala Lajpat Rai, Sardar Ajit Singh and Sufi Amba Prasad (a great friend of Ajit Singh) began to rouse up the country by eloquent speeches. In this agitation Sardar Kishen Singh, the eldest of the brothers and father of Sardar Bhagat Singh, and Swaran Singh the youngest, took a legitimate share. Though Sardar Kishen Singh did not figure brilliantly on the platform, his services to the cause of the regeneration of the country were more solid. Both the father and the uncles of Bhagat Singh, with the willing consent of the grandfather, contributed generously to the national fund.

The year 1907 saw for the first time in the history of modern India the application of the arbitrary Regulation III of 1818, which has since then rendered so much service to the British Government in India. Both Bengal and Punjab were the scenes of the application of this drastic measure, and Sardar Ajit Singh and Lala Lajpat Rai were recipients of this honor. After suffering imprisonment without trial for about a year in the distant and unhealthy Burma, Sardar Ajit Singh came back to Punjab. It was about the same time that Bhagat Singh’s father and uncle, Sardars Kishen Singh and Swaran Singh, were arrested and imprisoned for seditious speeches, and were thus the pioneers in the line. The uncle, Swaran Singh, who was then hardly 28, soon died in the Jail (1910). And this was the propitious time when Sardar Bhagat Singh, the second son of the family, was born, on a Saturday, 28th September, 1907, in the early hours of the morning. Was it a mere coincidence or the hand of God!

Of his boyhood not much is known except that he loved the field much better than the class room. He, with his eldest brother, Jagat Singh, joined the Primary School at Banga, district Lyallpur, which was his birth place.

Jagat Singh died at the age of 11 years, a loss which was keenly felt by the boy Bhagat Singh. After this Sardar Kishen Singh shifted to Nawankot near Lahore where he had some land. Bhagat Singh had now to be admitted to some High School. Though it was customary for the Sikhs to join the Khalsa High School, Sardar Kishen Singh had no liking for the School owing to the loyalist tendencies of its authorities. So Bhagat Singh joined the D. A. V. School, Lahore. Although the incident is so simple yet it is significant that though a pious Sikh, Bhagat Singh’s father withdrew his son from a Sikh institution and preferred an Arya Samajist School. From this School, he passed the Matriculation Examination and joined the National College which is now in the building of the Bradlaugh Hall. When he was in the 9th class he went to attend the Cawnpore Congress. (Actually his father took him to Balgaum Congress held in 1924, presided by M K Gandhi) While in the College he was very intimate with Sukhdeo and Yashpal. (when hardly 12 year old he went to Amritsar following Jallianwala Bagh killings by General Dyer and brought blood socked soil)

When not yet fourteen, Bhagat Singh’s enthusiasm for the service of country brought him into touch with some revolutionary organization in the Punjab. After the failure of the non-cooperation movement in 1921, many impatient young men sought to resort to other methods than those advocated by M K Gandhi for the realization of their ideal. In the Punjab a sect had arose, known as Babbar Akalis.  They advocated the use of violent methods for the emancipation of the country. Though they resorted to means which may not be approved by many, the Babbar Akalis contained among them some truly noble characters. Moreover, the heroic sacrifices of the Sikhs in the Lahore Conspiracy Cases of 1914 and 1915 had great influence on the imaginative youths of the period. That they had very great effect on the emotional nature of Sardar Bhagat Singh is very well proved from the later writings of his. It should also be remembered that Bhagat’s father, Sardar Kishen Singh also, was actively helping the revolutionary organizations of 1914-15. In the book, “India as I knew It” by Sir Michael O’Dwyer, there are definite references to it, so much so that it is definitely stated that Sardar Kishen Singh advanced thousands of rupees to the revolutionary leaders. It is for these alleged crimes that Sardar Kishen Singh was interned under the Defense of India Act. Like father, like son, and it is no wonder that young Bhagat Singh drifted towards the violent revolutionary path of the Babbar Akalis.

As usually happens with secret organizations, the police got clue of the activities of this party and most of its members were arrested. It was partly to avoid police scrutiny, partly to find out a new field of activity that Bhagat Singh left the Punjab and went to reside at Cawnpore. Here he came into touch with Shri Ganesh Shanker Vidyarthi, and the two formed a life-long friendship. This was a turning point in his life, as since then he became part and parcel of a well-organized revolutionary party in India. Henceforth his life was part of a story of the revolutionary movement in India, and it now behooves us to give some account of this revolutionary organization to which Bhagat Singh dedicated his heart and soul.

Aftermath of Rapes

Rapes in India

Indian men may have gone from wearing dhotis to jeans, but their attitudes towards women are still as primitive. I still hear from my friends after the Delhi rape case and the Mumbai rape case and Asaram case. Now, i have a friend whose name i am not going to mention but According to him, the rapists and Asaram should be left nude in front of all the world with his hands and tongue cut. And every citizen should get a right to beat any where on his body with anything. Moreover his genitals should be chemically castrated. I’m sure everyone who has a sister or a family member who is a female thinks the same thing. Well aren’t you just a little beacon of hope for humanity?

The purpose of punishment is to fulfill the need of retribution to give a sense of closure to the victims, to deter others from committing similar crimes and to remove the criminal from society for a sufficient period of time so that he joins the society back as a different reformed person.

since you are the not victim of this alleged criminal, you have no locus standii to determine his punishment quantum from the retribution perspective….so I assume you are looking at it from the deterrence angle since you are not looking to reform the man in any case.

I do not know what is the right quantum of punishment to deter potential criminals…but people in power have been universally known to take advantage of those they have power over….more research may be required to reach any conclusions of any kind.

Honestly, just because someone does something wrong even horribly wrong it doesn’t mean you go down to his level and torture him. Let him suffer in prison! Or give him a death sentence. But to cut out his Genitals and his tongue plus being beaten. That’s horrible and you should look at your morals.

As much as you and me and the citizens of the country wanted to punish those who are guilty of the crime, crushing their genitals with chemicals and cutting their penises will not solve the problem. If you do this, You’ll have to answer a very big question, would I be any different from them?

You can’t force yourself to like bitter chocolates.

Certain jobs require distinct personality. There is little point in pursuing a job in communications if you are not an extroverted person who loves to interact with people. If your soul is bursting with passionate creativity, you are not likely to be content with a job in sales accounting.

Personalities is like shoe sizes. They are not subject to our choice or preference, but they can be occasionally fudged-with uncomfortable consequences.

It is neither an accomplishment nor a fault to acknowledge that some people can speak before large audiences and be exhilarated by the experience while others would be petrified. Some people can study an equation for years and still be fascinated by it, and others would long for human interaction and variety.

Realize who you are-what your true personality is-and choose a future that fits it.

Hardly a day goes by without at least one of his clients refusing to work with him. In fact, sometimes they spit up on him. But photographer Jean Deer loves his job.

He has taken hundreds of children’s portraits, and he is well acquainted with all the tricks of the trade to make a baby smile. Jean’s an expert in every funny face and noise imaginable.

“When it’s over-the parents-me, everyone is exhausted, but that’s usually a good sign.” Jean found that getting babies to flash their smiles wasn’t the only way to get a great picture and that a grumpy baby was just another source of inspiration. “I was taking a photo of this infant once who literally wanted nothing to do with me. He would not look up, just stared at the floor.” Jean got down on the floor with him took the picture from a perspective he’d never used before and wound up with one of the best pictures he’d ever taken.

The job requires two major traits, jean believes, “Not everyone can just hang out a shingle and call himself a photographer. It’s a matter of being patient and energetic and then capturing at the right moment.

“Even as people experience different phases of their lives, including career and family changes, their underlying personality remains constant after about age sixteen.”

                                                                                                                                                -Barto 1998.

 

Indigenous Tweets helps keep endangered languages alive.

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Every 14 days, a language dies. But there’s a way to keep indigenous and minority languages alive: bring communities of speakers together.

A computer scientist and mathematics professor at St. Louis University, Kevin Scannell has been tracking the loss of languages. When we think about the severity of the situation, Kevin has to say this:

More than 1000 languages are listed as “severely” or “critically” endangered which means that only people in the grandparents’ generation or older still speak the language—without serious revitalization efforts, we expect these to die out with that oldest generation, in the very short term.

To help revitalize such indigenous tongues as Tamasheq, Dzhudezmo, and Anishinaabemowin, Kevin created Indigenous Tweets. The program scans Twitter for three-character sequences called “3-grams” that serve as a kind of fingerprint for statistical identification. The results are grouped by language and by Tweeter. So far, the program has uncovered more than 250 languages on Twitter, of which 139 could be considered minority or indigenous. The discoveries reflect real people speaking these languages today, not just translations of texts stored online.

Through Indigenous Tweets, those who speak minority languages can find accounts to follow — and potential conversation partners.

*In 2011 Kevin was on sabbatical at Twitter working in search relevance. He has since returned to teaching full time.

Donate to help save endangered languages at National Geographic.

Source: Internet.

 

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