-for Rachita Taneja Sticks and stones may break my bones but words shall never hurt me— HOWEVER, stick figures and tweets may hurt my conceit, for I’ve lost my sense of humour.Comments closed
Poems about the dark times.
-for Kunal Kamra When children use kind words, that’s called a conversation; and when they argue loudly, that’s an altercation. While bullies everywhere employ intimidation, the clever must rely on wit and erudition. If a friend helps calm things down, we call that mediation; in the end so much depends on good communication. Still, when children can’t agree, we don’t talk of prosecution; what argument gets solved by incarceration? Some elders have forgotten complaints are not sedition, and tolerance and humour are good for the whole nation. I’ll spell it out in case you lack imagination: democracy depends on freedom of expressionComments closed
—for Prashant Bhushan In the photo, a man in his early sixties sits astride a large, shiny motorcycle. He wears a short sleeved shirt and casual pants, and though it appears it may have been some time since he’s visited a barber, from this distance, in this focus, both his beard and long wavy hair are undeniably looking sharp; you can see why he might not want to ruin the moment by wearing a helmet or a mask— why should the letter or spirit of any law anywhere stop a hard working citizen from having a little harmless fun during these stressful times? It’s hard to believe a man like this would allow his feelings to be hurt by a couple of critical tweets— unless, of course, it’s true what they say about powerful, aging men who suddenly feel the need to be seen with flashy sports cars or motorbikes.Comments closed