Oh To Be A Scholar During The Islamic Golden Age Using Mathmatics To Create Incredible Art

Soooo I wrote a poem on Bulbbul

I'm the woman who burnt herself in her own rage's flames,

The one burning down love letters, only to burn her hand seeking them out from the fire back,

The one starved for touch yet

The one who stings if you're near.

I'm that woman whose love you snapped away,

The one whose blood is on your dagger,

The one whose skin's bruised because she fell down the stairs,

the one whom you drove mad.

I'm that woman with kohl eyes, and

Ruby red lips,

The tragedy they pity,

The one no one suspects,

The one, who killed.

Okay here are some facts I think everyone needs to know about Modi's relationship with the occupation of Kashmir.

-In June/July of 2019, just a few months after Modi took office for his 2nd term he sent ~10,000 soldiers into Kashmir.

-Shirtly after he suspends telecoms/internet and implements a stringent curfew. He also begins arresting political leaders and HRAs. He begins jailing journalist in the dark (no internet made that easy)

-That August he revokes article 370 and 35a which removed Kashmir's special status (which basically means they took awa their statehood and nullified their constitution) and allowed non-Kashmiris to begin purchasing land in the region.

-Under Modi, Kashmir has become the most militarized zone in the world. Not being hyperbolic here. There are some areas of Kashmir where soldiers outnumber civilians.

Basically Modi has spent the last decade turning Kashmir into an open air prison while laying the groundwork for demographic change. Indian tourism in the area has been on a MASSIVE incline. That's why you're seeing messaging from India calling Kashmir "The Switzerland of India" and why tourists were attacked.

If this all sounds familiar that's because Modi is pulling from Netanyahu's playbook. Down to framing his colonization as a security issue. There's a reason he looks up to him.

Modi is a RSS Hindu nationalist that has been heavily inspired by European fascist movements.

You should know all of these facts as you navigate a lot of disinformation that's gonna come at you.

i made an alt where i ramble even more thank you very much

unfortunately, to my parents’ disapproval, the one thing i truly dream of is having a home. i know i am supposed to dream big and “shatter the glass ceiling," and i do, but really, this is as close to my heart. i don't imagine the number of rooms and how big or small the house is, but i do dream about the sunlight coming through the windows, the quiet summer afternoons in the courtyard, the plants and flowers that are to be grown, along with the groceries to be bought. i dream of a gentle life with my beloved, where there will be no slamming of doors and neither of us will go to sleep with quiet resentment in our hearts that grows every day. i'll be able to hear the laughter of the children playing down the street, reverberating off the walls, and tell them stories—from the undying devotion between two lovers to the ventures of the fellow knight—while drinking tea on which too much money was spent for sugar, which leaves ring marks on the kitchen table. i dream of the books that are to be read, which will adorn every shelf and corner, and the paintings that are to be hung.

My loved ones are always welcome, irrespective of whether they want company, help, or words of kindness during trying times. i dream of the mehfils that are to be held, the ghazals that will be sung, and the shayeris that are to be recited. there will be winter nights spent huddled around the fire with my friends, where the courtyard will witness us dreaming aloud and revisiting old jokes. there'll be new recipes i'll learn, cupcakes i will bake, a favorite song i'll hum, and movies i'll watch. after all, some dreams are not about leaving legacies or achieving success in boardrooms; they do not call for applause, shine under spotlights, or get remembered in the pages of history. some of mine are more fragile, steadier—ones that have the comfort of a voice that calls for dinner, the creak of familiar wooden floors, the smell of fresh bread and candles of jasmine, with the last note of the serenade lingering in the air.

he was a

she was a

On Yearning

you asked me what i ate today and i cough so hard pieces of my spine are thrown from my mouth. i taste blood every time you look at me like i'm something worth dying for. when i was twelve i broke my wrist. it never healed right so now every time you try to hold my hand my bones ache.

my mom says i remind her of her mom and that sometimes it's hard to look at me. it is spring and i hope the hummingbirds can't see into this house.

there are boys that claimed my body felt like home to them. i will never understand this because my hands still shake every time i place them around my neck asking myself how much longer until the thought of peace doesn't make me choke to death.

how can i be this tender and still bite my tongue so hard until everything i never said rots my teeth? i'd let my anger burn this city to the ground before letting anyone hear me say how sorry i am for everything i am not.

-unknown

i am my father's daughter, of course i'm gonna suppress my rage and grief till it bursts and leaves everyone with my ashes

BOOP ISN'T PERMANENT???!?!?????😭😭😭😭

i would be the best dead wife ever i love to laugh while laying in bed

i love you fairy tales i love you folklore i love you myths i love you stories as old as humanity itself i love you oral traditions i love you characters carried through time on my ancestors’ tongues i love you story i’ve seen a million ways and want to see a million more i love you archetypes i love—