Marketing genius! Disaster money management.

We often find everyone saying that there is good in every bad situation, here TOI proved it right! By making money from a disastrous event happened in India.
Dear Oxford,
We need a new unsubtle word for shameless.

Read the full article here.

http://m.veritenews.com/news/trending/social-media/times-of-india-chennai-floods-insensitive-news-/1165/

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The dreams.

How often a mind dreams?

Few words and proses

How often a mind dreams?

Just when it sleeps?

No!

A mind never stops dreaming, a mind becomes a temple of hope at sometime and if succeed the worshippers bows there. But still it’s heartbreaking as many temples gets broken out of insecurity, doubts. These two elements are usually called “Reality”.

As it’s often said that go to this field you will have a better future. Do you think they actually cares? Maybe 5-6% do but no one actually cares about your future. The thing is no one gives a damn about your future, those 5-6% people are for 5-6% everyone in reality just want to gloat to be the mentor of a “Successful you”. They just want to say, “He was going for something idiotic, it was I, who saved him from drowning.”

At the end there is no I, you will be a memory and your efforts will…

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1984 -George Orwell

Big Brother is watching you

.

War is peace

.

Freedom is slavery

.

Ignorance is strength.

-1984, George Orwell.

1984, the sheer literature and immense structure of the book is quite admirable. From the thought police to the memory holes. The dystopian era that was written and I quote “predicated” even when there was no access to the internet and other fascinating facilities at disposal. In my opinion it was actually scary, that a mind of 19th century was able to pin point the technology and it’s misuse to the accuracy of an Olympic Marksman.
George Orwell, who was a man of vivid imagination created the world beyond the limit of time. Who would have predicted there would be garbage in art? Who would have thought that art would be used to persuade the impressionable minds and actually motivate them into doing utter nonsense. It was him. As I have finished the book earlier, the accuracy, pardon me for being monotonous, was scary. There were many situations where he was mostly correct. One of my favorite was where he points that the music was being crafted through metallic instruments, i.e. auto-tune.
And there was another particular incident where Winston (The main character) had to go to the countryside to get away from constant watching. The kids who weren’t just kids but spies, trained and inculcated to espionage upon their own parents. Where war was a reality, where the “Ministry of Love” thrives on fear and really the most frightening one.

And if the phrase, “Everyone knows what’s in room 101” shivers your spine then trust me you are not alone.

Maybe in few years there will be eyes and ears everywhere, not just developed countries. When “freedom will be slavery”, “War will be peace” and as we already see in our everyday life how “Ignorance is strength”.

If, you are wondering about which book to read next, and you are brave enough to see the world that George Orwell has created, and if you have like literature, and if you like a good story then this book will leave your mind ready to birth a child.

Fountain of Redemption

The time has come when I should be ash,

In the land of warrior I have been blessed.

I have indeed ruled the people of my province,

But I failed in ruling the souls of the populous.

I have been blessed with swords of destruction,

I have been blessed with the mind of creation,

But all that seems vague when I face this inspection,

As I have been on quest to search the fountain of redemption.

As I lay on my pyre of deeds,

As I confront my deeds of greed,

As I see the eyes of joyous celebration,

That grieving in my permanent absence,

As I find my peace in the earth’s cool,

As I look at myself through the eyes of fools,

As I move along to the meet the god of creation,

As I have been on quest to search the fountain of redemption.

When I raged in my reigning abuse,

When I abused the selected recluse,

When I heard my name from grieving mouths,

I see clearly my fallen stout,

When I raise my head in to meet the eyes,

When I hold the hands of wailing wives,

When I recite the notions of my idiotic proclamations

As I have go on the quest to search the fountain of redemption.

As feel the heat reaching to my soul,

As the heat of pure scourge me as whole,

For the deeds of my pride that were paid in lives,

In the light of my crime that I denied.

I forsee my name turned to dust,

My name will become an abusive word,

As have been the king of entire dammed nation,

If I don’t find the fountain of redemption.

If I ever come and walk this very earth,

If I will be graced with few strokes of luck,

I will try to be human and not a king,

I will denounce my pride and accept my sins,

If I ever find my source of purification,

Whilst searching my precious fountain of redemption.

Imagine a World: A Conversation with Illustrator Rob Turpin

Discover

Rob Turpin uses line, form, color, and imagination to create the fantastical cities, landscapes, and spacecraft found on his blog, This Northern Boy. We asked him about his artistic influences, his drawing process, and how he got started putting pen to paper.


Tell us a little bit about how you got into drawing.

Rob Turpin Rob Turpin

I’ve always drawn — from a really young age, I’ve just loved drawing.

At primary school in the UK, I was the kid that drew. I was fine at everything else, but drawing was my thing. It stayed that way through high school, too — regardless of what else I was into, I always drew. I’d draw sci-fi or fantasy stuff, spaceships and aliens, orcs, and dragons.

When I went to college to study graphic design, the illustration sessions interested me most. If I’d had more confidence in my ability then, maybe I’d have…

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Four relations, four tales

Walking and drifting amidst the wailing  moans,

I see a mother on a grave of unknown.

She sat there for hours and hours,

Talking to herself in a sense of wonders.

She grieved and smiled numerous times,

She dined along with man confined.

She didn’t care for the world of rules,

She was a mother of a used tool.

She had a mask donned over to stash,

For the wails that were unheard in this world of trash.

Walking and drifting amidst the wailing resonated,

I see a father with a photograph, perforated.

He walked on the field with a smile of pride,

He had a few scars which he didn’t hide.

The biggest scar hidden beneath the ribs,

He lost his son to lust and greed.

He had a mask donned over to stash,

For the wails that were unheard in this world of trash.

Walking and trotting in the garden of forgotten,

I see a brother with a eating an apple, rotten.

He too did smile with every bite,

He was offered a fresh one but he denied.

The fruit was the last of his father’s tree,

For which he would have sold his fortune without a plea.

He needed a slap of reality to come out of this illusion,

He needed an addiction to snap out this delusion.

He had a mask donned over to stash,

For the wails that were unheard in this world of trash.

Walking and sauntering before the home of fails,

Where there lies an invalid sister’s tale.

She has been happy with one man only,

Her brother, who made her life homely.

Many men refused to marry an invalid human,

When the question was to marry this woman.

They refused to marry but agreed to sell,

Themselves, for few silver, under the ringing bell.

The brother has been dead for a few decade now,

And her heart still craves to be endowed.

She too needed a mask donned over to stash,

For the wails that were unheard in this world of trash.

The song of humans and other entities

Sing the song of humans and animals,

Sing the song of carnivores and cannibals,

One eats its species due to force of nature,

One eats its species for the greed of greater.

Sing the song of humans and stones,

Sing the song of house and homes,

One becomes the house due to force of nature,

One destroy its home to widen the luscious aperture.

Sing the song of humans and birds,

Sing the song of nests and herds,

One rolls in dirt due to force of nature,

One rolls in the earth due to hide it’s fractures.

Sing the song of humans and stars,

Sing the song of light and the dark,

One burns in the sky due to force of nature,

One burns the planet as the avarice’s preacher.

Sing the song of humans and gods,

Sing the song of divines and frauds,

One became the idol due to force of nature,

One became idle in the light of lust’s literature.

The song of humans and other entities

Sing the song of humana and animals,

Sing the song of carnivores and cannibals,

One eats its speciesdue to force of nature,

One eats its species for the greed of greater.

Sing the song of humans and stones,

Sing the song of house and home,

One becomes the house due to force of nature,

One destroy its home to widen the luscious aperture.

Sing the song of humans and birds,

Sing the song of nests and herds,

One rolls in dirt due to force of nature,

One rolls in the earth due to hide it’s fractures.

Sing the song of humans and stars,

Sing the song of light and the dark,

One burns in the sky due to force of nature,

One burns the planet as the avarice’s preacher.

Sing the song of humans and gods,

Sing the song of divines and frauds,

One became the idol due to force of nature,

One became idle in the light of lust’s literature.

Perhaps..if..

At the end of the semester of life, perhaps I wouldn’t have regretted if I paid attention to the lessons,

Perhaps I would have done something good if I was isolated to retention.

Perhaps I would have grown if I had another chance,

Perhaps I would have helped if I wasn’t busy throwing the freaking lance.

At the end of the semester of life, Perhaps I wouldn’t have been soaked in lamentation,

Perhaps I had been a scholar of love, if I hadn’t been chained to gratification,

Perhaps I had friends and not acquaintances, if I hadn’t just sat through the lectures,

Perhaps I would have been strong, if I hadn’t been grieving for the fractures.

At the end of the semester of life, perhaps I wouldn’t have been moaning in isolation,

Perhaps I would have been a man of morals, if the grades didn’t define my education.

Perhaps I would have been a better man, if the world had taught me the value of acceptance,

Perhaps I would have been a better friend, if I hadn’t been encased in the gaol of repentance.

At the end of the semester of life, perhaps I would have been the man I dreamt to be,

Perhaps I wouldn’t have been filling up the chalice of grief,

Perhaps I wouldn’t have been the humanity’s experiment,

Perhaps I wouldn’t have been the wails of periodic resent,

Perhaps and maybe I would have been the hope of humanity,

Only if I hadn’t been taught to follow the rule of gravity.