Monday, July 20, 2026

How Birbal died?

Birbal died because of Akbar. The Yusufzai tribes of Afghanistan began a rebellion against Mughal rule on the eastern bank of the Indus River. The soldiers sent by Akbar to crush the rebellion had been killed. Akbar sent the wise Birbal with his new army reinforcements to Attock in 1586 to help commander Jain Khan. Birbal and the army moved into a narrow pass in Swat Valley (present day Pakistan), Afghan soldiers lay in ambush in the hills were there, and they started firing shells from above. After this, in the major defeat of Akbar, Birbal and more than 8000 soldiers were killed. The saddest thing was that his body was never found. This was the biggest military loss for Akbar. It is said that he did not eat or drink anything until he was saddened by the loss of his favorite royal prince Birbal. He was very sad because due to the body of Birbal not being found, his last rites could not be performed. Akbar the Great had declared that this was his biggest tragedy since he assumed the throne.

Optical illusion!

Handling of Indian students!

Security forces clampdown on protesters as Delhi police lathi-charged hundreds near Jantar Mantar. Cockroach Janta Party, in a post on X, has condemned the forces' reaction to the protest, calling it "the absolute cruelty and heartlessness of the regime," which will be remembered by this generation. Photos: Suraj Singh Bisht Suraj Singh Bisht

Public in ANGER!

People are out on the streets – in Delhi, in Mumbai, in Shantiniketan, and in Jaipur. They are seething with a searing anger. It is an anger directed at a regime swollen with its own hubris. The grotesque sight of the state bouncers swathing a frail, fasting Sonam Wangchuk in white sheets, only to make him disappear from Jantar Mantar, struck a deep nerve in them. In that moment, citizens witnessed the unvarnished, brute power of an arrogant state descending upon the defenceless body of an individual who was only punishing himself – all while pleading with the state to own the structural ruin of our educational system. They watched his body waste away day by day; they endured the chilling, cruel silence of the state; and finally, they witnessed his abduction. Before their very eyes, power had bared its fangs. Yet this was not merely the humiliation of Sonam Wangchuk; the people experienced it as a direct assault upon themselves. It jolted them out of a long slumber. Or perhaps the storm that had been quietly gathering in their hearts for years finally burst open. Now, they no longer care whether the government sends a representative to negotiate with them. They are marching, raising their voices, and asserting through their presence that they exist – that they matter. Sonam Wangchuk ought to have recognised that the moment had surpassed him. He was no longer the central issue. The people were actively reclaiming their lost rights, their stolen autonomy. His duty was to offer them his gratitude for stepping into the public square, for breaking their silence, and then to bring his fast to an end. But he remains convinced that he is the indispensable axis around which this struggle turns. His wife, Geetanjali Angmo, announced a condition last night for him to break his fast: political leaders must present themselves to him and guarantee that education will be debated in the ongoing session of Parliament.