She rises like the golden sun, A warrior, a mother, a scholar, a nun. From fields of grain to the courtroom stand, She builds, she heals, she leads the land.
She paints the sky with hues so bright, An artist lost in colors of light. She soars through space, a cosmic queen, Breaking barriers once unseen.
She wears a stethoscope, a teacher’s chalk, A pilot’s wings, a lawyer’s talk. She writes, she sings, she dares to dream, Her voice, a force—a raging stream.
Yet in the shadows, unheard cries, Bruised and broken, tear-filled eyes. A victim silenced, a shattered soul, Trapped in chains beyond control.
She walks in fear, yet hopes for light, For justice strong, for wrongs made right. Not a burden, not a prey, But a phoenix rising day by day.
So let her learn, let her grow, Teach her strength, let courage show. Train her hands to fight, defend, Let no monster strike again.
A girl deserves the world, you see, Not silence, pain, or misery. Give her books, let knowledge guide, And watch her rise with fearless pride.
Today we stand, today we fight, For every woman’s sacred right. With love, with strength, we light the way, For her to shine in every way.
Happy Women's Day!
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In this glorious society of ours, we have perfected the noble art of helpfulness with strings attached—a practice so deeply ingrained that if you dare to accept assistance without paying eternal homage, you might as well have signed up for a lifetime surveillance package.
Rule #1: If You Take Help, You Owe a Biography Congratulations! You found yourself in a tight spot, and a generous soul came to your aid. But wait, did you think that was the end of it? Oh no! In return, you must now submit regular updates on your daily activities, mood swings, and even the texture of your morning toast.
“Beta, I gave you money for rent last year, so tell me… what did you have for breakfast today? Also, why did you smile at your neighbor? I need details!”
Yes, dear readers, if someone lends you money for an emergency, they automatically acquire the right to know your whereabouts, relationships, and future life plans.
Rule #2: The Eternal Reminder System If a kind-hearted soul ever did you a favor, be prepared to hear about it at every family function, social gathering, and possibly even in their obituary. It’s their favorite bedtime story—told with emotional highs, dramatic pauses, and an exaggerated sense of sacrifice.
“I had only ₹5000 left, but did I hesitate? NO! I gave it to this poor soul, who now walks among us because of MY kindness. If not for me, he would be a pigeon on the street today.”
And you? You must sit there, nodding like a grateful peasant, while secretly wishing for a memory-erasing machine.
Rule #3: Help Comes with Decision-Making Authority Once you’ve received help, say goodbye to free will. Your personal choices are now subject to review and approval by your benevolent benefactor.
“You’re eating pizza? Didn’t I lend you money last year? You should be eating plain rice and regretting your financial mistakes.”
“Going on vacation? How DARE you? I once gave you ₹200 during your bad phase. You should be working 24/7 to pay tribute to my generosity.”
Yes, your entire lifestyle must now be curated in a way that pleases the Supreme Lender of Help.
Rule #4: Help Is a Gateway to Involuntary Worship The moment someone helps you, they are instantly promoted to demi-god status. You must worship them, praise them, and, ideally, name your firstborn after them.
“Remember who got you that hospital bed in 2019? That’s right, ME! So, from now on, no decision without consulting me. You owe me, FOREVER.”
Expect them to turn up unannounced at your house to check if you’re still adequately grateful.
Rule #5: Help at the Cost of Your Dignity Nothing in society is free, especially not kindness. The unwritten rule states that if someone helps you, you must listen to their unsolicited life advice, accept their interference in your personal matters, and let them lecture you on morality—even if they themselves have questionable ethics.
“I may be corrupt, rude, and intrusive, but since I once helped you, you must listen to my 3-hour lecture on life choices.”
And God forbid you decline their next offer for help! “Oh? You think you’re independent now? You’ve forgotten your roots! Ingrate!”
Final Thoughts: The Selfless Yet Self-Obsessed Society In an ideal world, help should be genuine, free of expectation, and given with a pure heart. But in our society, it is a debt that comes with emotional blackmail, constant reminders, and a full-time surveillance package.
So next time someone offers you help, weigh your options carefully. Because sometimes, struggling alone is far better than signing a lifelong contract of gratitude.
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The Sharma household was in turmoil. Their son, Arjun, was appearing for his board exams, and that meant the entire family had to undergo examination austerity measures. The television had been unplugged, neighbors had been issued warnings against any form of entertainment, and even the family dog, Bruno, had been shushed when he dared to bark.
Arjun’s mother, Mrs. Sharma, paced around the house like an army general preparing for war. “Did you drink Badam Doodh (almond milk)? It boosts memory!”
“Yes, Mom,” Arjun sighed. “But it boosts my toilet visits more than my memory.”His father, Mr. Sharma, was flipping through newspapers, ready to deliver his usual motivation speech.
“Beta, you know Sharma Ji’s son, Rohan? He scored 99% and got into IIT! And look at you…”“I haven’t even written the exam yet!” Arjun groaned.
“Exactly! That’s the problem! You’re not taking pressure seriously. Look at your mother; she’s losing sleep because of your exams!”
“She’s losing sleep because she drinks five cups of tea worrying about my exams!” Arjun muttered under his breath.
Just then, their neighbor, Mrs. Verma, peeked in. “How is Arjun’s preparation going? I hope he gets above 95%. Otherwise, what will society say?”
“Maybe society should try writing the paper instead?” Arjun quipped.
Mrs. Verma gasped as if he had just committed blasphemy. “Arrey beta, marks are everything! Nobody cares if you’re good at anything else! Look at my son, Sumit. He’s useless at everything, but his 98% in 12th made him the pride of the colony!”
Arjun’s sister, Riya, rolled her eyes. “And now he sits at home unemployed because he has zero skills beyond memorizing textbooks.”
“Hush, Riya! Don’t spread negativity before the exam,” Mrs. Sharma scolded. “Arjun, focus! If you don’t score well, nobody will respect you.”
“Hush, Riya! Don’t spread negativity before the exam,” Mrs. Sharma scolded.
“Arjun, focus! If you don’t score well, nobody will respect you.”
“Mom, do you even know who the President of India is?” Arjun challenged.
Mrs. Sharma looked flustered. “Uh… umm…”“Exactly! Because marks don’t determine intelligence!”
But his logic fell on deaf ears. His parents and the entire colony were infected with Exam Fever—a pandemic worse than COVID-19.
The Judgment Day: Exam Results
The day of reckoning arrived. The results were out.Arjun stared at the screen. “92%.”
Mrs. Sharma screamed as if he had announced his own kidnapping.
“Only 92?! What will people say?” Mr. Sharma shook his head. “I can’t even show my face at VermaJi’s house now.”
Mrs. Verma appeared like a Bollywood villain. “Beta, what happened? You had so much potential!”
Arjun smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, Aunty. Society will still be proud of me. I just uploaded a reel of me dancing to Jalebi Baby. It already has 1.2 million views!”
His parents fainted.And thus, Arjun escaped the toxic clutches of exam-based judgment… one viral reel at a time.
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Rohit had planned the perfect Valentine’s Day surprise for his girlfriend, Neha. A romantic dinner, a heart-shaped cake, and a cute little speech he had rehearsed 273 times in front of the mirror. Nothing could go wrong.
Well, that was until his best friend, Jatin, decided to “help.”
“Bro, trust me, nothing impresses a girl more than a homemade cake,” Jatin said confidently. “You’ve never baked a cake in your life!” Rohit protested. “Details, details. We have YouTube tutorials, my friend!” And that’s how the disaster began.
Jatin and Rohit entered the kitchen like two scientists about to create a world-changing formula. They followed the recipe—kind of. “Wait, was it 1 cup of flour or 2?” Rohit asked. “Meh, just pour whatever looks right. It’s all the same,” Jatin shrugged. “Baking powder or baking soda?”
“Uhh… both sound scientific. Add both, for extra effect!” One hour later, they pulled out something that looked like a burnt asteroid. The cake was as hard as their physics exams. Rohit banged a knife on it. The knife broke. “Dude, are we making a cake or a medieval weapon?” Rohit cried.
“Okay, new plan,” Jatin said. “We buy a cake and pretend we made it.” They rushed to the nearest bakery. It was packed. A hundred lovebirds were fighting for the last few cakes. Rohit spotted the last heart-shaped cake on the counter and reached for it, but a lady grabbed it first.
“Ma’am, please, I need that cake! It’s an emergency!” Rohit begged. “Oh really? Did you also give birth to twins last week and forget your anniversary?” she shot back. “No… but my girlfriend will break up with me if I don’t bring a cake!”
“Then you should have ordered one in advance, beta,” she said and walked away. Rohit turned to Jatin. “We’re doomed.” Jatin smirked.
“Not yet.” Jatin spotted a waiter carrying a cake toward a table. He whispered, “Time for a mission.” Five minutes later, thanks to Jatin’s brilliant plan (which involved a ‘fake’ cockroach scare and some dramatic screaming), they successfully ‘borrowed’ a cake from an abandoned table.
“RUN!” Jatin yelled, grabbing the cake. They sprinted out of the bakery like criminals in a heist movie. At 7 PM, Rohit proudly presented the cake to Neha. She looked touched. “Aww, you baked this?” she asked. “Of course!” Rohit grinned.
She cut a slice and took a bite. And immediately spat it out. “Is this… garlic?!” she coughed. Rohit turned pale. Oh no. That was probably someone’s leftover garlic bread cake from the bakery.
Jatin tried to help. “Maybe garlic is good for love… like, vampire protection?” Neha glared. “Are you telling me I’m a vampire?” Rohit gulped.
“No! I mean—” Just then, the real owner of the cake stormed in. “THAT’S MY ANNIVERSARY CAKE! YOU THIEVES!” Neha stood up. “I think this relationship needs a break.”
Rohit managed to gasp, “But… how did you find my house?”
The man smirked. “You left your phone at the bakery. I just used your emergency contact. Turns out your mom was very eager to tell me exactly where you live.” He forced Rohit to pay double the amount of money he paid for the cake.
Jatin sighed. “Bro, on the bright side, you don’t have to buy a gift next year.”
And that was the end of Rohit’s Valentine’s Day.
Moral of the story: Never bake a cake with Jatin.
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Paper Cuts, Not Uppercuts: My Life in Ink and Outrage”?
Reason:
It perfectly captures my ability to channel frustration into writing instead of physical aggression. “Paper Cuts” represents my creative work, while “Not Uppercuts” humorously contrasts it with physical fights, emphasizing that my battles are fought with words, not fists!
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The world is divided into two kinds of people—those who want to earn money without working hard (a.k.a. employees) and those who want to save money by making others work hard for less (a.k.a. employers). It’s a beautiful cycle of human ingenuity, where both sides are constantly trying to outsmart each other, and yet, somehow, the system survives!
Here’s a deep dive into some of the greatest strategies employed by these masterminds:
1. Employees: The Art of Doing Everything Except Work
Why waste time actually working when you can become an expert at looking busy? Here’s how:
The “Busy Body” Technique: Keep a pile of papers on your desk, sigh loudly, and furiously type random things while staring at the screen. Nobody will dare disturb you.
The “Meeting Marathon”: Suggest unnecessary meetings and stretch them for hours discussing everything except the actual work. Bonus points if you make PowerPoint slides filled with corporate jargon.
The “Skill of Excuses”:
Keep a list of go-to excuses:
“WiFi is down,” “Laptop update,” “Family emergency,” “Doctor’s appointment,” or the all-time classic, “I thought this was due next week!”
2. Employers: The Masters of ‘Less Pay, More Work’
Employers have their own secrets to maximizing profits while keeping employee happiness at ‘just enough not to quit’ levels.
The “Family Illusion”: Tell employees, “We are like a family here,” to make them feel guilty about asking for a raise or working overtime without extra pay.
The “Annual Appraisal Scam”: Praise employees for their hard work and dedication, then give them a 3% increment (which is lower than inflation), and expect them to feel grateful.
The “Intern Miracle”: Hire interns, promise them “great learning opportunities,” and make them do all the work for free. When they ask about job confirmation, tell them, “We’ll get back to you.” (They never will.)
3. The Great Indian Wedding vs. The “Why Are You Still Single?” Society
If you get married, society will judge your wedding choices—from the food menu to the guest list.
If you don’t get married, they will judge your single status and assume there must be “something wrong with you.”
If you marry late, they’ll say, “Too late!”If you marry early, they’ll say, “Too soon!”Moral of the story? Society has an opinion on everything except their own lives.
4. Education System: Where Marks Matter More Than Knowledge
Schools: “You must memorize this entire chapter!”
Students: “But why?”
Schools: “Because it will come in the exam.”
Students: “And after that?”
Schools: “Forget it. It’s useless in real life.”
Meanwhile, job interviews demand “5 years of experience” for “fresher” positions. Makes sense, right?
5. Relatives: The Self-Appointed Life Advisors
Before graduation: “Beta, what’s your plan for the future?”
After graduation: “Beta, did you get a job?”
After getting a job: “Beta, when are you getting married?”
After marriage: “Beta, when’s the baby coming?”
After the first baby: “Beta, why just one? Have a second child!”
Meanwhile, their own lives? A complete mess. But advising others? Top-notch skill!
6. Social Media Warriors: Fighting Battles That Don’t Exist Forget logic and reasoning!
Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram are the new battlegrounds for people who:
Fight over who has the best political opinion (even though they only read headlines).
Get offended by memes but ignore real-world problems.
Post “mental health awareness” but ignore their actual friends in need.
7. The Ultimate Conclusion: Everyone Wants to Outsmart Everyone
Employees dream of “earning without working.”Employers dream of “paying without hiring.”Society dreams of “commenting on everything without thinking.”Students vs. Examiners: The Academic Circus
8.Politicians vs. Voters: The Ultimate ScamPoliticians: “How do I stay in power without actually solving anything?”
Voters: “How do I complain about corruption while still voting for free goodies?”Thus, election season turns into a mega reality show, featuring:
Fake promises (with an expiry date of Election+1 day).
Freebies (with conditions that make them impossible to claim).
Blame games (because governing is too much work).
And after winning?Politicians vanish faster than a Wi-Fi signal in a basement, reappearing only when it’s time for the next season of ‘Fool the Public.’
10. Social Media Influencers vs. Reality Influencer: “How do I get famous without any real talent?”
Audience: “How do I feel better about my life while watching people fake theirs?”Cue the rise of:”Morning routine videos” (which conveniently skip the 6 hours spent scrolling Instagram in bed).”
Relationship goals” (which last until the next sponsored breakup).”
Motivational reels” (made by people who can’t even wake up before noon).
And when engagement drops?Cue fake controversies, forced apologies, and an ‘exclusive tell-all’ vlog (sponsored, of course).
11. Health & Fitness Industry vs. Lazy Fitness Seekers
Gym trainers: “How do I make money while ensuring clients never actually get fit?”
Lazy clients: “How do I lose weight without exercising?”This creates a booming market for:”Lose 10 kg in 7 days!” diets that only reduce your will to live.
Fitness apps that charge monthly fees, knowing you’ll quit after three days.Detox drinks that cleanse nothing except your wallet.And when results don’t show?The gym blames “lack of commitment.”The client blames “bad genetics.”
Conclusion: The Universal Game Continues
No one really wants to work hard anymore. Employees slack off, bosses exploit, students cram, politicians fool, influencers fake, and gym-goers dream of six-packs while eating chips. And yet, life goes on, proving one universal truth—”Why work smarter or harder when you can just work around it?”
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The city was gripped by fear. Three women—Meera, Sangeeta, and Roshni—found dead within a month. Each case appeared to be suicide, yet something felt… off.
Case 1: Meera Sharma
A successful boutique owner, Meera was found hanging from the ceiling fan in her posh apartment. A note lay on the table:”I can’t live with this guilt anymore. I destroyed my husband, and now it’s my turn.”Inspector Aditya Roy studied the note. “Guilt? Meera never looked guilty in her life. She was always smug about her success.”
His deputy, Jatin, nodded. “Her husband, Arvind, killed himself two years ago. Apparently, she drained his wealth, forced him to sign over his properties, and left him bankrupt.”
Aditya frowned. “But why would she suddenly feel guilty now?”The autopsy report raised more questions. Though the cause of death was hanging, there were faint needle marks on her arm. But no syringe was found.“She might’ve been drugged before being hanged,” Aditya muttered.
Case 2: Sangeeta Khanna
A week later, Sangeeta was found dead in her farmhouse. Drowned in her bathtub, a bottle of wine beside her. The note read:”He was right. I should have never done what I did to him. Now, I seek forgiveness in death.”Jatin whispered, “Same pattern, sir.
Her husband, Manish, was a renowned surgeon before she framed him for domestic violence. He lost his license and ended up in a psychiatric ward.”Aditya clenched his jaw. “And now, another ‘suicide’ with an oddly timed confession.”
Sangeeta had no history of remorse. Security footage showed no visitors, yet her nails had traces of someone else’s skin. Aditya had a gut feeling—the killer was meticulous, planting only the notes but nothing else.
Case 3: Roshni Verma
Two weeks later, Roshni was found with her wrists slit, a glass of red wine by her bedside. The note:”I ruined a man’s life for my greed. He suffered, and now, so should I.”
Jatin exhaled sharply. “Sir, this can’t be coincidence. Her husband, Kunal, was once a thriving entrepreneur. She made him sign over his shares, then filed false abuse charges, leaving him homeless. Now, she’s dead like the others.”Aditya scanned the crime scene. “What do you see, Jatin?”Jatin hesitated. “A staged suicide?”
Aditya nodded. “And something else. All three notes mention guilt. Yet, none of these women were the type to feel remorse. They had plans for remarriage, looking for another ‘business deal’.”Jatin flipped through Roshni’s planner.
“She had a dinner reservation tomorrow. Doesn’t sound like someone about to die.”
The Missing Link
The killer was precise, leaving no trace—except the notes. They weren’t confessions. They were verdicts.Aditya revisited old case files. A chilling pattern emerged. All three husbands had once shared a lawyer—Vikram Sethi.Vikram was a defense attorney, known for taking on male clients trapped in false domestic violence cases. But all three of his clients had lost everything despite his efforts.
Jatin searched further. “Sir, Vikram’s wife… she divorced him five years ago. And guess what? She took everything—his house, his firm, his dignity.”Aditya’s eyes darkened. “Where is Vikram now?”
“Moved to the outskirts of the city. Runs a small legal consultancy. Practically vanished from high-profile cases.”Aditya drove straight to Vikram’s office. The man was calm, sipping tea as he greeted them.“Inspector, I assume this isn’t about a legal consultation?” Vikram said with a smirk.Aditya placed the three notes on the table. “Recognize these?”Vikram’s smile didn’t waver. “Should I?”
“You were the common link between their husbands. You saw what these women did, how they destroyed lives for profit. And you made sure they paid for it.”
Vikram leaned back. “If I had, wouldn’t you need proof?”Jatin interjected. “You injected them, made it look like suicide. No fingerprints, no witnesses. Just their ‘confessions’.”Vikram sighed. “They had a choice. They could’ve lived their second lives honestly. But they planned to ruin more men, just like before. Some predators disguise themselves as victims. Someone had to stop them.”
Aditya clenched his fists. “You played judge, jury, and executioner.”
Vikram sipped his tea. “And yet, I left behind no evidence. Just words they should have written long ago.”
Aditya exhaled. He knew Vikram was right—but justice wasn’t his to serve.Yet, as they left his office, Jatin murmured, “Sir… what if we don’t find enough evidence?”Aditya didn’t reply.
He simply stared at the setting sun, knowing that some monsters walk free—not because the law fails, but because their victims were never innocent either.
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On this Republic Day, let us unite, With hearts ablaze, igniting the light. A nation so vast, so rich, so grand, Yet justice and equality must firmly stand.
No child should bow to the weight of caste, No gender left behind, no dream surpassed. A land where religion does not divide, Where every soul walks with equal pride.
The Constitution, our guiding flame, Calls us to honor humanity’s name. Beyond the barriers of bias and hate, Lies the destiny of our shared fate.
Let no woman fear the night so still, Let her courage soar, her dreams fulfill. Let no child beg for a right to learn, Justice must not be something we earn.
Together we rise, together we grow, With love and fairness, our future will glow. For India’s promise is one for all, Where no citizen feels forgotten or small.
So on this day, let’s pledge anew, To build a nation bold and true. A republic of justice, freedom, and grace, Where every heart finds its rightful place.
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In the corporate jungle of Dreadmore Tech, the phrase “work till you drop” wasn’t just a saying—it was a policy. And no one embodied this more than the dreaded boss, Mr. Prakash, whose motto was, “You can rest when you’re dead… but not before you finish the project!”
One fine Monday morning, as the clock struck 9:00 AM, an email notification pinged on every employee’s screen. It was from Mr. Prakash. The subject line read: “URGENT: Deadline in 3 Days!”The email read:”Dear team,As we all know, the project deadline is fast approaching. I understand that some of you are dealing with minor inconveniences like, say, death, illness, or a missing leg. However, I must remind you that these are not acceptable excuses for delay. You are expected to work through all difficulties until the project is done. Remember, death can wait, but this project cannot.Best,Mr. Prakash”
Meanwhile, in the office, Ramesh, the senior developer, was lying on his desk with a bright green face. His breathing was shallow, his eyes glazed over, and his fingers twitched every now and then, probably trying to hit keys he couldn’t feel.”Ramesh, stay with me,” shouted Geeta, his colleague, who was furiously typing away. “Don’t die before you finish the coding! If Mr. Prakash finds out you’re slacking off…””I… I just… I can’t… breathe,” Ramesh whispered weakly.”No excuses!” Geeta snapped.
“Remember the quarterly review? You can’t afford to disappoint the boss again.””But I’m literally dying,” Ramesh wheezed. “I think… I think my soul is leaving my body as we speak.”
“Stay alive!” Geeta shouted. “I need you to finish the report before you go!” Suddenly, the door flung open, and in strutted Mr. Prakash, with his signature stern expression and clipboard. He scanned the room like a hawk searching for a wounded rabbit. His eyes narrowed when he saw Ramesh.”Ramesh, are you working?” Mr. Prakash barked, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.”I… I’m… on my last breath…” Ramesh stammered.”No excuses!”
Mr. Prakash said. “We’ve got a deadline, and I don’t care if you’re hanging by a thread! If you die, at least do it while the project is done, okay?”Ramesh, barely able to hold on, nodded feebly.
Mr. Prakash leaned in, squinting at Ramesh’s screen. “Hmm, your code is off by a comma. You really need to fix that before you go. We can’t afford a delay!”Ramesh, now slightly more dead than alive, raised one finger, trying to point at the keyboard.
“Please… just… make sure the project… gets done…” He gave a final sigh before collapsing in a heap, clutching his mouse like a soldier holding onto a weapon.Geeta sighed, looking at Mr. Prakash. “Well, at least he finished the task.”
“Good employee,” Mr. Prakash muttered, making a note on his clipboard. “But we need to set better health standards. Maybe next time I’ll send out a memo reminding them to avoid actual death while working.”
The rest of the office carried on, completely unfazed by the incident, until lunchtime. As the clock struck 12, a faint, almost imperceptible moan echoed from the corner of the office.
It was Sunita, another victim of overwork, clutching her chest in agony.”I think I need to go home. I’m… I’m having a heart attack,” she gasped.”No, no, no!” Mr. Prakash rushed to her side. “You can’t leave now. If you leave, I’ll never hear the end of it from HR about your ‘sick leave.’ You’ll have to finish your tasks first. We’ll get you a water bottle, maybe some fresh air, and then you can drop dead after the presentation. Deal?”Sunita, holding her chest, gave a thumbs-up, muttering, “I hate this place.”Mr. Prakash, satisfied, handed her a glass of water and returned to his desk. “No more of these ‘sick leave’ excuses, people! Health is overrated anyway.”
Meanwhile, in the break room, the junior marketing intern, Pravin, was hunched over his laptop, trying to make sense of a spreadsheet that seemed to have multiplied since yesterday. His hands trembled, sweat dripping down his forehead.”Pravin,” Mr. Prakash called from the door, “You still working on that spreadsheet?”
“I… I can’t… my hands are shaking,” Pravin stammered.”Shaking? That’s nothing! Shake it off and shake that spreadsheet into shape!” Mr. Prakash shouted. “If your fingers aren’t broken, you’re not allowed to stop working!”And so, the madness continued. Employees huddled together, each suffering silently, knowing their fate: work until their hearts stopped, quite literally.
The only thing that seemed to matter in Dreadmore Tech was the deadline.As the clock struck 9:00 PM, and everyone had survived another grueling day, Mr. Prakash walked past their desks, finally offering a rare sign of compassion. “Good work today, team,” he said. “I know you’re all at death’s door, but at least the project is 98% done. You can rest once it’s over. Literally.”
As the employees collapsed into their chairs, lifeless yet triumphant, they shared a quiet, understanding smile. Work-life balance? In Dreadmore Tech, it didn’t exist. It was all about work until you drop.And then, the next project started… because, of course, there was always more work to do.
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