Sran

Sri Lanka WC 1996 Winning side, 30 years later. How many players you can identify? (For ardent cricket fans only)

Unedited footage of Judge Vs Lawyer from Rohini Court, Delhi. Unfortunately, these lawyers will be the first one to threaten and snatch the phone if a common litigant will try to do any recording inside the court room in similar situation. PS: Lawyers are saying, " aap kaam dham karte nahi bus chamber mein baith kar daru peeete rehte hain"

Men will do anything to avoid trying on clothes. He made the clothes try him on.

Cutest toll tax 🥰🥰

Largest Caste, Tribe Or Ethnic Group In India In 1931.

This has got to be the funniest video about the English language. For real English is crazy.

The best part is you can customize the cake size 😍🤩

Over 10 yrs ago my asthma inhaler went generic and became cheap. But the govt said the propellant was bad for the environment, mandated a new type, and I was back to buying branded for $$$$. Recently that new type went generic as well. Cheap again! Yay! Except now the govt says this propellant is *also* unsafe, and will be banning it, forcing everyone to buy a (patented of course) newer more expensive type yet again. Funny how the timing works that drugs become “unsafe/environmentally bad” juuuust as the pharmaceutical patents run out. Very curious, that.

His name was Rajan. He was a final year engineering student at the Regional Engineering College in Calicut, Kerala. His father, T V Eachara Varier, was a Hindi professor at the Government Arts and Science College in the same city. On the morning of March 1 1976 the police came to the college campus and took Rajan away. India was under Emergency. Civil liberties were suspended. Courts had effectively turned away. His father found out the next day from the college principal. He went to every police station in the district. No one admitted to having his son. He met the Home Minister of Kerala, K Karunakaran, directly. He sent petitions to the Home Secretary of the Government of Kerala three times. Not a single reply or acknowledgement came. He wrote to the President of India and the Home Minister of the central government, with copies to every Member of Parliament from Kerala. Nothing. What Eachara Varier did not know at the time was that his son had been taken to an illegal police interrogation camp at Kakkayam. He was tortured. A practice called uruttal was used, where a heavy wooden log is rolled over the body of the victim. Rajan died from his injuries. His body was disposed of by the police and was never found. When the Emergency ended in 1977 Eachara Varier filed a habeas corpus petition in the Kerala High Court. It was the first such petition filed in Kerala after the Emergency. He did it without legal training, without political backing, without money. He had spent everything searching for his son. The court case slowly unravelled the truth. It forced K Karunakaran to resign as Chief Minister of Kerala in 1978 when the adverse judgment came. Rajan’s mother became mentally unstable from the grief. She died in 2000 still not knowing where her son was. Eachara Varier wrote his memoir, Memories of a Father, which won the Kerala Sahitya Akademi Award in 2004. In its final lines he wrote, “I don’t close the door. Let the rain lash inside and drench me. Let at least my invisible son know that his father never shut the door.” He died on April 13 2006. He never found his son’s body. Rajan was picked up from his college campus on a March morning in 1976. He was never seen again. Repost this. Some stories must not be allowed to disappear.

A famous samosa shop stood outside a big company gate. During lunch breaks, many employees from the company would come there to eat. One day, a manager jokingly said to the shop owner, Rakesh: “Rakesh, you run your shop well, but don’t you think you are wasting your talent selling samosas? If you had joined this company like me, you might have become a manager by now.” Rakesh smiled and replied calmly: “Sir, ten years ago, when I sold samosas from a small basket, you had just started your job. At that time, I earned ₹1,000 a month, while you earned ₹10,000. Over the years, both of us worked hard. You became a manager from a supervisor, and I turned my basket into this popular shop. Today, your salary is ₹50,000 per month, and I earn around ₹2 lakh. But money is not the main reason I believe my work is better. The real difference is for our children. The business I built with hard work will go to my son. He will start from where I stop and take it even further. But in your case, all your hard work will benefit your company owner and their family. Your son cannot directly take your position; he will have to begin from zero, just like you did.” After hearing this, the manager quietly paid ₹20 for the two samosas and walked away without saying a word.