Not A Real Spaceship

you've seen the jokes. india is "dirty", indians are "everywhere", why don't they fix their own country. ok. let me tell you why, and what's happening right now while nobody's watching.

first, the history you skipped: britain ruled india for two centuries and drained it. economist utsa patnaik's research estimates around $45 trillion in today's money was taken. the india that got independence in 1947 was one of the poorest countries on earth. every "why is india like this" question starts there. you don't get to profit off a robbery and then mock the crime scene.

now, what's happening RIGHT NOW:

in may the question paper for NEET leaked. that's the national medical entrance exam. over 2.2 million students took it. cancelled. years of studying, families' savings poured into coaching, gone overnight because someone sold the paper. students died by suicide after. these were kids who wanted to be doctors.

and out of that came a protest movement. a gen z group called the cockroach janta party, started by a 30 year old named abhijeet dipke, got 22 million instagram followers within DAYS. they've been doing a sit-in at jantar mantar in delhi demanding education minister dharmendra pradhan resign.

and then there's sonam wangchuk. if you've watched 3 idiots, he's the real engineer the character was based on. built solar schools in ladakh. invented ice stupas so himalayan villages have water. spent his whole life on education. he's 59 and he's been on hunger strike for 17+ days now. reporters went to see him this week and he was too weak to talk. and the troll armies are calling him "anti national" and "foreign funded". a man starving himself for other people's children. that's the thing here, anyone who asks a question is suddenly a traitor.

it's not one incident, it's everywhere you look:

• infrastructure worth thousands of crores failing within months of the ribbon cutting. tunnels collapsing in regions where heavy rain is a guarantee, not a surprise.

• youth unemployment near 10% for ages 15 to 29, 13.6% in cities. in a country of 1.42 billion where more than half the population is young.

• only about the top 3% of indians earn above 10 lakh a year. meanwhile billionaire wealth keeps ballooning and the headlines celebrate it.

• manipur burned for over two years. an ethnic conflict, tens of thousands displaced, and the prime minister barely said the word manipur while it happened.

• journalists raided. critics' houses bulldozed. activists sitting in jail for years without trial under laws like UAPA. our press freedom ranking has cratered.

• even the petrol is a fight now, ethanol blending pushed through while drivers complain about their engines and get no straight answers.

and through all of it, the PM, who came to power on religious polarisation (americans, sound familiar?), travels abroad for photo ops and has not held one single open press conference in over a decade. not one.

what i'm asking:

if you're not indian: share this. our media mostly won't cover any of it because the big outlets are owned by the same billionaires the government serves. the only reason wangchuk's fast is getting any coverage is people refusing to look away.

if you ARE indian: speak up even if you're comfortable. especially if you're comfortable. join the protests. add to this, correct me, translate it. staying quiet is a choice when nothing in this post touches your life.

india is not "dirty". india was robbed, and it's being robbed again, from the inside this time. but it's also the country where a 59 year old will starve for strangers' kids and 22 million young people will rally behind a party literally named after cockroaches, because cockroaches survive everything.

we can still save her. but only loudly.

Ottawa residents that have been to the balloon festival before, the FUCK is this??

I cannot decide if this would be REALLY out of character or weirdly IN character for Emmrich. Either way, this immediately appeared in my head when I saw all the coffin sex talk.

My sister is an Egyptologist and I've been living with her for three years. The "coffin vs. sarcophagus" thing gets brought up weirdly often. This was the explanation I got:

Coffin - usually made of wood, goes into the ground, or *inside* a sarcophagus (which is what ancient Egyptians did with their high ranking mummies)

Sarcophagus - made of stone, stays above ground.

Of course, this now begs the question: coffin or sarcophagus, why the heck was there a plush lining inside that body box shown in the cutscene? The only logical answer: it is, in fact, the Sex Sarcophagus (the Sexcophagus, if you will) specifically made for really horny necromancers who just HAVE to do it right then and there in the Necropolis. I mean, it's in a place called The Vault of the BELOVED, for Maker's sake.

-> Phonics For Adults <-

Emmrich jumped, jabbing his thumb with a bone threader and sighed in irritation. His oldest friend stood unrepentant in the doorway of his workroom, waiting for his response. Behind her the rush of young humanity hurried to their next classes.

“To what do I owe your kind visit, Jo?” He asked, sucking the blood from his thumb, and straightening from the table where what would one day be a full skeleton lay.

His curious wisp friend rang little bells of irritation and zipped into the ribcage.

“They’re giving you the Tevinter brat,” Johanna said gleefully.

Emmrich frowned, “who?”

“The Irritating little altus whelp. He needs to take a course on spirit binding, and you’re it. Watcher Holickmore won’t touch him with a ten foot pole.”

He wracked his memory and found only irritation at the interruption.

“I don’t recall any news of—“

“If you would speak to a living person once in a while, instead of just dead ones you might learn some relevant gossip ,” Jo sneered.

“Haha. I recall you were reading a book on a completely irrelevant topic last staff meeting…”

“Rumor says he’s been sent here to get him out of the way.” Johanna continued, “his family currently finds him embarrassing.”

“Which family?” Nevarran nobility was bad enough. If he had to deal with Tevinter…

“Peacock, Plagueis, something like that,” Jo pushed off the door and skived off. “I’d wish you good luck but even you’re not that pathetic.”

Emmrich turned back to the ribcage.

His wisp shot up to hover at eye level.

“She’s getting mean,” Emmrich told them.

Usually he is quite a patient man. One must be with the dead.

But this is trying even his good will. .

“Rook we have been to three different blacksmith shops this morning alone,” he protests as Rook veers to the left where a sign promises “Genuine Dragon Hide Hilt Wraps!”

Lucanis does not help. Lucanis’s eyes light up more than Spite’s and he follows Rook with the anticipation of a much younger person spotting candy.

Rather than be dragged after them, Emmrich releases Rook’s hand, and sighs as Rook answers his protest with a weak, “Just one more, Em. Promise.”

And so he finds a shaded fountain to sit beside. And he waits.

He is only there a short while when a woman, surrounded by a small brood of excited children settles beside him, sets down numerous bags of shopping.

“You don’t mind, do you love?” she says, with the unabashed openness of most of the people of Rivain. “This road is murder on my feet.”

It takes Emmrich half a moment to realise she is addressing him and not one of the half dozen, chattering urchins bouncing around her.

“Oh, not at all, please,” Emmrich motions to the public fountain into which two of the children have already climbed.

“A hot day,” she says conversationally, “but there’s so much to do, and the weather waits for no man, nor woman.”

“Indeed,” Emmrich concedes, glancing down at the punishing sun. He’s grateful now that Taash insisted he cake himself in the cream meant to protect one’s skin from burning.

Her children play for a few moments as she fans herself and they watch the lively activity.

“Do you have any little ones?” she asks.

Manfred, immediately springs to mind. He is spending the day with Bellara, examining the artifacts they gathered from Arlathan last week. No doubt they are elbow bone deep in cogs by now.

The woman see’s Emmrich’s reminiscent smile, “tell me of them.”

By the time Rook and Lucanis wander from the shop, clutching their purchases, they are anticipating at the very least a disapproving tut, and maybe some foot tapping.

Instead they find a smiling Emmrich, surrounded by a dozen entranced children, watching the little dragon he has created from water fly in the air, running and shrieking when it sprays them. No less than four grateful parents are soaking their feet in the fountain.

“Gods, he’s cute,” Rook says and hurries off to that fruit seller Emmrich likes. It’s almost lunchtime and he’ll be hungry after an audience like this.