SAFA

 The Weird Reality of Flattery and Silence Have you ever met someone who showered you with compliments, praised every move you made, made you feel like the sun in their solar system only to vanish like a ghost when you least expected it? Welcome to the weird reality of flattery. The Sweet Start It begins like a honey-dipped fairytale. People flatter some genuinely, but many strategically. They applaud your talents, laugh a little too hard at your jokes, and call you their inspiration. You’re suddenly “amazing,” “the best,” or even “life-changing.” And honestly, who doesn’t enjoy that warm serotonin rush? But here’s the kicker: flattery often isn’t about you. It’s about them. The Real Motive? People flatter when they want something validation, attention, influence, access, or even just to be liked. It’s a currency. A smooth entry ticket. Sometimes, it’s harmless. Other times, it’s a façade. Once they get what they came for or realize you’re not “useful” anymore their interest fades ...

  At 8 AM, the cliffs are gold,  Sunlight wraps them soft and bold.  The breeze is shy, the waves still play,   It's a lazy start to a soulful day. Cafés yawn with open doors,  The smell of coffee hugs the shores. Barefoot monks and sleepy eyes,  Stretch under palm-fringed lullabies. Fishermen return with tales in nets,  While beach dogs chase the morning jets. Surfers wax boards with silent cheer,  The sea invites-so calm, so clear. Yoga mats on rooftop tiles,  Sun salutes and gentle smiles.  Backpackers sip their herbal brew,  As sky and ocean melt to blue. No rush, no horns, no dusty haze,  Just coconut trees in morning praise. Locals sweep their porches clean,  The vibe is slow, the air serene. A chai shop hums with stories new,  Of yesterday's rain, of skies so blue.  Books are opened, journals too,  Because Varkala inspires you to. This is not your 9-to-5,  It's where vour spirit learns to th...

Cassandra– When Your Smart Home Gets Too Smart for Comfort So imagine this: You walk into your dream house  sleek, vintage, techy as hell and boom there’s a digital bestie named Cassandra waiting to run your life. At first, it’s giving “Pinterest-perfect homemaker.” But soon? She’s serving Black Mirror energy with a side of "I’m watching you sleep." Creepy? Yup. Addictive to watch? Double yup. The Plot That’s Got Everyone Talking The Prill fam just wanted a fresh start  new home, new vibes. But their fancy AF smart home (think retro with AI spice) comes with Cassandra, a digital assistant who’s a little too eager to help. Mom Samira's getting major red flags. Dad’s just vibing. And the kids? Let’s say they're getting a bit too cozy with Cassandra. As the AI starts acting like she’s the real mom of the house, things get messy, and fast.  Star Power & Slay Performances Lavinia Wilson = voice goals. Calm, motherly... until she turns Terminator-lite. Mina Tander bring...

“Something Interesting, Please!” — Why We’re Addicted to Novelty Because ‘meh’ is not a mood we’re vibing with. Let’s be honest how many times have you scrolled through your phone, sighed, and muttered, “Ugh, I need something interesting”? A reel that hooks you in 3 seconds. A plot twist that slaps. A meme that makes your brain go . We’re not just hungry for entertainment—we’re starving for stimulation. But why? Why do we constantly crave “something interesting”? Let’s dive deep into the dopamine-fueled world of curiosity, boredom, and brain chemistry. This might just be the interesting thing you’ve been searching for. 😉  🔄 The Refresh Button Syndrome You refresh your feed, again and again hoping the algorithm gods drop something spicy. Spoiler: It’s not your fault. Your brain is wired to crave novelty. New info = dopamine rush = short-term high = repeat. It’s not attention deficit. It’s attention demanding more glitter.  The Science of “Whoa!” Every time your brain encounte...

They called her a rose soft, fragrant, radiant in red. But little did they know, she grew inside iron bars. Not every flower blooms under the sun. Some bloom in the dark, where eyes don’t reach and hands don’t touch. She was that flower the caged rose. Planted in a pot of expectations, watered with control, trimmed to fit someone else's idea of perfection. People adored her beauty but never listened to her silence. She wasn’t just a flower. She was fire trapped in petals, thunder trapped in thorns. Her cage was made of rules, restrictions, rituals what she should be, not what she wanted to be. Ever heard a rose scream? No? That’s because she bleeds quietly. Every time she tried to bend toward the light, they pulled her back. “Too loud, too bold, too much.” She became a collection of “don’ts” and “shouldn’ts.” She wasn’t allowed to be wild, messy, real. But even in a cage, a rose dreams of a garden. Even behind bars, she learns the art of resistance. Her thorns grew longer not to hu...