Redhya

No matter how stringent protocols related to narcotics become, you can obtain weed in Dehradun with such ease that you might think that possessing it isn’t criminal at all. As a result, in Dehradun, while passing through desolate streets, chances are h i G H that you might come across a bunch of boys toking on a joint and laughing hysterically. Besides, you may find them equipped with loads of munchies and bottles of flavoured drinks. To be honest, your presence might make them hyper-vigilant, but they won’t say no if you ask them for a couple of drags. Weed in Dehradun can be procured through various sources. However, it’s not a piece of cake to score some good quality of weed. Look through this article to get the street knowledge of weed in your own lovely Doon Valley . The Rudiments of Weed in Dehradun Before we get to the street knowledge of this psychoactive substance, let’s get some basic knowledge of weed. Weed in Dehradun is majorly available in two forms: Ganja and Charas or...

You’re a particle – a tiny particle. At this very moment, if the cosmos stopped expanding and had no light, and standing at edge, you wanted to see yourself on the earth so you threw some photons from the edge of the cosmos, you would need approximately 93 billion years to see yourself as photons would reach the earth first, and then it would get reflected back to the edge of the cosmos and enter into your corneas and your occipital lobe would create a few pictures inside your head and you would recognise yourself- you’re at the centre and at the edge. An average human has the lifespan of 79 years; therefore, you would need approximately 10 billion lives just to see yourself from the edge of the cosmos that stopped expanding. However, in reality, the cosmos hasn’t stopped expanding yet, and it is expanding at 73 kilometres per second per megaparsec. Now, you can imagine how big the cosmos is. A tiny particle you are, and just like everything in space, you’re a part of a chain reaction....

Day in, day out, you work double shifts to become what you've always dreamt of becoming. Be it day or night, you always imagine yourself living that moment of success; you're on a stage, and people are clapping for you and screaming your name at the top of their voices. The moment is surreal; it brings a beautiful smile on your face. Thus, your heart starts pounding against your chest, and you feel a weird, however, exhilarating sensation all over your body as though every cell of your body were electrified.  Suddenly, the curtains close, and you come back to reality.  It's been weeks since you sat on a chair and did nothing. Now, you can't recall the last time when you watched a movie or had a long conversation with your friends and family. You try to make each second productive, because your dreams ask for it. You think - if you procrastinate, you're not serious about it; you're not putting your heart and soul into it. Moreover, you tell yourself e...

Before taking the path to spirituality, feed your mind with science, and understand the cause and effect phenomenon of the universe. If you believe in some powers or energies that miraculously do events around you, then you're viewing the world from only one pov that's yours. The earth is filled with 4 quadrillion quadrillion bacterias, 10 billion billion ants, 500 trillion Antarctica krills, 18.6 billion domestic chickens, 7.8 billion humans, 1.4 billion cattle, 1.1 billion sheep, 3 million great whales, 0.5 million elephants, and many other living things and non-living things that can become a part of the cause and effect phenomenon. Your uncertainty is not god. The uncertainty of the occurrence of an event is not God. If you assume the existence of a superpower behind the occurrence of an event, then you ignore the existence of other living things and non-living things in the universe. Their existence influences the events happening around us. The human mind isn't capabl...

whene'er i pick a quill, a thousand words yet to be born intone a fearless song all night long. though as the raw ink is about to defile a blank sheet, a glimpse of a papery child curling numb amidst haunting fears appears and then disappears. the child afraid of screams has poems with no words, for someone told him - verses are nothing but piercing screams. with the tongue full of papercuts, the child says -  i’m not a poet, for poetry is a lie -  some random words that evoke emotions. though, some lies help dying souls survive, as if poesy were the last breath  blown into their mouths in hope  they might revive.  i'm not a poet, because poetry is a lie -  because words can’t make any difference to bland lives.  though, some words are powerful enough  to make people throw knives  that would’ve slit their wrists,  for pain couldn't’ve sufficed their empty lives.  i'm not a poet, for poetry is a lie - these verses are arranged rhythm...

I'm the sharpened tip of the pencil lying on your desk. The peeled wood still stuck in your sharpener was my guard. You uncovered me so that I can become a bloomed flower on a bland white sheet. If you could read me, you would see my desire to turn me into a deadly serpent wrapped around you, squeezing every inch of you. You swiftly move some sheets, and the pencil rolls towards the edge and falls onto the ground. I’m broken - I'm detached and lost somewhere under the bed. To be honest, the fall felt like a lifetime. That's why they say - your consciousness summarises your life when you're dying. You look at the pencil with the missing tip and feel that pang has paralyzed your body for a few seconds. I look from afar and experience your grief through your remorseful eyes. You take a trip filled with guilt and come back with a sharpener. The moment passes, and you make someone like me. *** buy my books on amazon -  redhya

I hadn't ever seen death being peaceful. My dog was dying. My mother comfortably laid him at his favourite spot that was beside the shoe rack in the verandah. I watched him taking his last breaths. I remembered his early years when he was such a pain in the arse. He'd gnaw everything that smelt like feet: socks, slippers, and shoes. I didn't hate him when he chewed down my white crocs even though I liked them. I got him chewy bones a couple of times. He'd do "grrrrrrr" when I tried to reach a bone in his mouth. Lying on a tattered rug, he opened his eyes; they were filled with tears. My mother was crying. I felt nothing as if I were lifeless. I looked at him slowly crawling towards us. When he reached my mother's feet, he looked at her. Putting his head on her feet, he collapsed and didn't wake up after that. *** buy my books on amazon -  redhya