वन्दे मातरम् 🇮🇳 👮🙏

Rice Bag Phenomenon — Illustrated.

🚨TODAY'S HISTORY LESSON 🚨 "Every Jihadi is a faggot by birth." - Sultan Salahuddin Sultan Alauddin Khilji and his slave Malik Kafur used to take turns of bending over and dipping their Dih in each other's shit. But Alauddin Khilji was Lord of Gaylords, he wasn't satisfied with one slave. He used to go around and participate in gay orgies. Malik Kafur didn't want to share his love with anyone. But Khilji was a hoe and these hoes ain't loyal. One day Malik Kafur said, enough is enough and laid out a plan to kill Khilji. He sent a gay man suffering with Syphilis and haemorrhoids to Khilji. Khilji pumped and dumped this gay man and got infected with STD. Khilji suffererd a lot died like a pig. Marxist Historians will tell you that Malik Kafur poisoned Khilji. But we all know they are liars. Alauddin's 6 year old young son, Shihabuddin, was named the new Sultan and Malik Kafur became his advisor. Malik Kafur was tharki and wanted to molest Shihabuddin to increase his influence over him. One fine day Malik Kafur got his chance. Shihabuddin screamed, Old loyal guards of Khilji came running and rescued the young Sultan. Guards caught Kafur and wanted to kill him. Kafur pleaded and asked guards to forgive him. He said, "Meri Gaan Lelo, Par Meri Jaan Mat Lo." All guards laughed....and then took Kafur's gaan one by one and then killed him. THE END

I want to share a real incident about an Amazon delivery boy Md. Asif —yes, to me he is still a “boy,” probably around 25–26 years old. He has been delivering parcels in our area for the past 3–4 years. He belongs to a different religion, but that has never mattered to me. Whenever he—or any delivery person—comes to my home, I always offer them water or biscuits. You might ask, what do I get in return? I receive something far more valuable—respect, warmth, and unexpected kindness. There have been several occasions when I wasn’t at home. He or another one named Rahul, tried calling me but couldn’t reach me, so they paid for my Cash on Delivery orders from their own pocket and handed the parcels over to my house help. I paid them later. This has happened multiple times. But what happened two days back left me completely speechless. I had recently ordered a leather wallet. When it arrived, I opened it and, just to check the space, I placed my passport, government ID cards, debit cards, an international credit card, and ₹5000 inside and was checking. I soon realized the quality of the product wasn’t good. Just then, I got a call from my business—and I completely forgot about the wallet. Later, I repacked it exactly the way it came and placed it with the return items. The next morning, the pickup was done while I was busy inside the room. I asked my house help to hand over the packet along with a small bottle of water. And that was it—I didn’t think about it again. I had completely forgotten that all my important documents and cash were still inside. Around 9:30 at night, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and saw him (Asif)—tired, exhausted, drenched in sweat. I live on the 3rd floor, and there’s no elevator. I immediately felt concerned and asked for water and biscuits. He softly said, “Wait, ma’am… I don’t need anything. Please listen first.” I was confused. “What happened? Are you okay? Why are you here now? I haven’t ordered anything in Amazon!” He asked, “Ma’am, you had a return this morning, right?” I said yes. Then he asked, “Have you lost anything?” I was surprised. “No.” He asked again, “Are you sure, ma’am?” I said, “Absolutely.” And then… he took out one by one - my passport, all my Govt ID cards, debit cards, credit card, and the ₹5000—and handed them back to me. He asked me to check everything and count the money. I couldn’t. I was numb. It hit me all at once—what I had done, what could have happened. I have an international trip coming up soon. If my passport had been lost, especially during this time, getting a new one would have been nearly impossible. My entire trip would have been cancelled! He told me that he had already handed over the return package to his manager, but something about the weight felt unusual. He took it back, checked, and found all my belongings inside. I had no words. I wanted to hug him—but I couldn’t. I just stood there, overwhelmed, with tears in my eyes. I offered him something—anything. I didn’t even have sweets at home to offer. I gave him a sealed bottle of Limca and a new company T-shirt I had. He was already soaked in sweat, so I insisted he take it, despite his hesitation. I even tried to give him some amount as a token of gratitude. He refused. Not a single note. He lives far away, yet he came back the same evening to return everything—understanding the importance of what I had forgotten, even when I didn’t. He left quickly, saying he still had a two-hour journey back home. Otherwise, I would have at least requested him to stay for dinner. Today, I felt I must share this. Honesty still exists. This is the India I believe in. This is my Bengal. This is how we live—where people trust each other, where Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Jains, Sikhs… we all coexist with respect and warmth. He didn’t have to return it the same day. But he did. That’s the power of humanity. A simple smile, a little kindness—these things still matter. 1 of 2…. Contd…..