AntiStupidity @Quixoo

#TalentOnPaper #ResponsibilityRepellent #GiftedButUnavailable #PotentialWithoutPunctuality #AllergicToAccountability

#LifeguardToVictim #DrownedByKindness #RescueMissionFailed #NoGoodDeedFloats #ShouldHaveStayedOnShore

Who is going to live here?? #Hyderabad

I totally misunderstood the strategy of the government. #Hyderabad #Enlightenment

There has to be some logic behind power cuts whenever it rains in Hyderabad. At this point, I’m convinced the electricity department uses a very advanced weather prediction model: “If 3 drops fall, cut power.”

Shot on Meta glasses!

@GHMCOnline

AntiStupidity @Quixoo

2 months ago

Hello @GHMCOnline @ZC_Secunderabad @CommissionrGHMC These are pictures from this morning. Location: Prasad Hospital, Nacharam. Next to the BSNL office. Thousands of school kids use this road every day. Please get this cleared.

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Hello @GHMCOnline @ZC_Secunderabad @CommissionrGHMC These are pictures from this morning. Location: Prasad Hospital, Nacharam. Next to the BSNL office. Thousands of school kids use this road every day. Please get this cleared.

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Couple of days ago, Dusharla Satyanarayana was beaten up and left to bleed in his farm. Who is Dusharla Satyanarayana? A 72 year old man who inherited 70 acres of ancestral land in Raghavapuram, Suryapet, Telangana. He didn’t sell it or make it a real estate venture, instead he resigned to his plush bank job and took up a full time work to repair the environment. He planted FIVE CRORE trees in the land, all by himself. He also dug 13 ponds and small lakes in this forest. He developed rainwater harvesting system in his forest. He doesn’t sell the agri-products, he says every fruit / flower / leaf that grows in this forest belongs to the animals, birds and the forest itself. At least 32 varieties of birds made this forest their home, along with numerous animals. When Nalgonda district was suffering because of Fluorosis, he started an NGO Jala Sadhana Samithi and worked intensively to educate people about the problems. He made government to listen to the water crisis and brought in policy changes. Dusharla Satyanarayana doesn’t even pluck a fruit for himself from the forest. And he decided not to give his land to his son also! People offered him hundreds of crores for the land and he flatly refused. He family and neighbours fought with him but he never gave up caring for nature and his forest. Three days ago, a few men thrashed him because he stopped them from cutting trees in his forest. He told them not to destroy the nature. These men are neighbouring villagers who want to graze their cattle and cut the trees for their needs. Dusharla Satyanarayana is now getting treated at a government hospital in Hyderabad. Wishing him a very speedy recovery. Wish people understand what this man is doing for this world & protect him, if not worship him.

A PROTEST IS PROTESTED. WHEN POLITICS BLOCKS ROADS, PUBLIC PATIENCE SNAPS. A Worli commuter, stuck in a traffic jam for over an hour, storms into BJP-led Mahayuti’s Mahila Jan Akrosh rally furious over missing her child’s pickup. The protest, targeting opposition over Women’s Reservation, brought roads to a standstill. She confronts organisers, calls out Minister Girish Mahajan, demands rallies be moved off public roads.

Another beautiful Galle morning!! My book. A good cup of Vietnamese coffee and .... The ocean!! #Srilanka #Vacation

The perfect setting!! A good book, nice coffee and the ocean ❤️❤️❤️ #Galle #SriLanka

Galle Sunset, Day2!! #SriLanka

Galle morning! #Srilanka #MoiThalpe

Galle sunset! #Srilanka

If nothing else, the Middle East conflict has people opening maps. Shame it took a war to beat Google searches.

@gharkekalesh 🙏🙏

Imagination invents the gods. Reality processes forms and pretends it runs the place.

Ramesh kept his documents in a blue plastic folder inside the cupboard. Electricity bills, insurance papers, tax returns all neatly arranged. Every March, he would sit at the dining table with a calculator and his reading glasses, making sure nothing was missed. His wife would tease him for being so particular. “Even the government doesn’t care this much,” she once laughed. But Ramesh cared.He believed that if you lived correctly, life would behave correctly in return. You pay your taxes. You buy health insurance. You don’t bribe. You stop at red lights. You build things slowly, properly. He had spent twenty-five years building small securities a modest flat in Mulund, a fixed deposit for his son’s education, a medical policy renewed every year without fail. He wasn’t rich, but he was careful. Careful felt close to safe. That afternoon, the sun was harsh. The kind that makes the road shimmer. He stopped at the signal on LBS Road and wiped sweat from his neck. Above him, the metro line stood unfinished concrete segments resting on pillars like heavy thoughts paused mid-sentence. It had been under construction for so long that no one really noticed it anymore. He had contributed to it too, in ways he never saw directly. Through deductions on his payslip. Through rising fuel prices. Through the idea that the city would become better for his son. The signal turned green. He moved forward with everyone else. The sound came suddenly a crack that didn’t belong to traffic. Some people later said they thought it was construction noise. Others said they felt the vibration before they heard it. There was no time for understanding. Just weight. Dust rose and covered everything in a pale cloud. For a few seconds, the afternoon disappeared. When the air cleared, people were running. Someone was shouting instructions. A helmet lay on the road, cracked neatly down the middle. By evening, traffic began moving again, squeezed around the debris. The metro pillars still stood. Work would pause, then resume. It always does. At home, the blue plastic folder remained exactly where he had kept it. The insurance policy was active. The tax returns were up to date. The investments were in order. All the careful planning remained intact. Only he did not. In the days that followed, there were announcements, suspensions, fines. Numbers were discussed. Compensation was calculated. The language was official and steady. But there is something unsettling about how quickly life can be translated into an amount. Ramesh had done everything he was told a responsible citizen should do. He had believed that responsibility created a thin shield between you and chaos. Yet that afternoon, beneath a structure meant to represent progress, the shield proved invisible. The city will move faster one day when trains run overhead. People will look up at the smooth concrete and think of efficiency, convenience, growth. Very few will think of the afternoon when something unfinished decided to fall. And in a small flat in Mulund, a blue plastic folder will remain perfectly arranged, carefully preserved presenting a quiet reminder that doing everything right does not always make a life heavier than concrete.