Neeraj Chopra Foundation, Pullela Gopichand and AISTS INDIA launch Indian Excellence to shape India’s next generation of coaches
Neeraj Chopra Foundation, Pullela Gopichand (Badminton Gurukul) and AISTS INDIA announced today that they have come together to launch the Indian School of Coaching Excellence (ISCE), a first-of-its-kind initiative aimed at transforming coach education and strengthening India’s sports ecosystem. With the vision of creating world-class coaches, ISCE will offer multidisciplinary coach development programmes that extend…
Gujarati Cinema Gets Its Action Hero: Bhaumik Sampat Wins Hearts in Get Set Go
Gujarat: Following its nationwide theatrical release on August 7, 2026, the Gujarati action-adventure feature Get Set Go from Valmiki Pictures and the Jaliyan Group has opened to strong box-office traction and glowing audience feedback across Gujarat. Directed by Arnav Kumar, the film tells the high-octane story of a band of six bicycle-borne heroes who execute…
A Historic Step Towards a Greener Ahmedabad: Grand Launch of the Mega Plantation Drive to Plant 100,000 Trees under Fingertips’ “Unique Vriksharopan”
Ahmedabad 10 Aug 2026 :- Driven by a firm commitment to environmental protection, sustainable development, and building a greener future, Fingertips Data Intelligence Solution, in special collaboration with the Ahmedabad Municipal Corporation (AMC), launched a mega drive to plant 100,000 trees under the “Unique Vriksharopan” initiative today at Happy Street, Law Garden, amidst great enthusiasm….
Private Community® Accelerates Gujarat Expansion, Strengthening One of India’s Most Dynamic Entrepreneurial Ecosystems Through AI-Powered Business Intelligence
Ahmedabad, 6 August 2026: Private Community®, the world’s leading AI-powered strategic business community for entrepreneurs, today announced the next phase of its Gujarat expansion following its successful launch in Surat. With a vision to connect over 3,000 entrepreneurs across Gujarat, the organisation is strengthening its presence in one of India’s fastest-growing entrepreneurial ecosystems, bringing together…
Tribe Kombucha Inaugurates India’s First Automated Manufacturing Facility for Kombucha Near the Western Ghats in Gujarat
National, August 4, 2026– Tribe Kombucha, India’s fastest-growing Kombucha brand led by founder Harshvardhan Chauhan – widely regarded as the “Kombucha Man of India” for pioneering the category in the country – has officially inaugurated its landmark manufacturing facility, setting a new benchmark for the Indian functional beverage industry. Located near Saputara in the Western…
Power-Packed Trailer Launch of ‘Get Set Go’: High-Tech VFX Featured in the Film Releasing on August 7th
Produced by Valmiki Pictures and Jaliyan Group and directed by Arnav Kumar, the suspense and thrill-filled trailer of the most awaited multi-starrer adventure film ‘Get Set Go’ has finally been launched. While the teaser previously sparked immense curiosity among the audience, the trailer has now doubled the excitement for the film, which is set to…
Chiranjeevi team of Get Set Go film meets CM Bhupendra Patel, CM praises the film team for the relief work they are doing
Amid the recent heavy rainfall and flood situation in Gujarat, Team ‘Chiranjeevi’ of the upcoming Gujarati action-adventure thriller film ‘Get Set Go’ (releasing on August 7, 2026) has set a fine example of humanity. After engaging in ground-level relief work, the members of Team Chiranjeevi met with the Hon’ble Chief Minister of Gujarat and officially…
National Award-Winning Gujarati Film Maaran Unveils Its Official Trailer Ahead of July 31 Release
Following its recognition as the Best Gujarati Feature Film at the 72nd National Film Awards, the makers of Maaran have unveiled the film’s official trailer, offering audiences their first glimpse into one of the year’s most anticipated Gujarati releases. Produced by CineMan Productions, Maaran is set to release in cinemas across Gujarat on 31st July,…
Bharat Renewable Energy Summit & Expo (BRE Summit & Expo) 2026 to be Held from 2–5 November in New Delhi: Shri Pralhad Joshi
Summit to be held alongside the 9th Session of the International Solar Alliance (ISA) Assembly and the 4th International Conference on Green Hydrogen New Delhi, 24 July 2026: The Bharat Renewable Energy Summit & Expo (BRE Summit & Expo) 2026 will be held from 2nd to 5th November 2026 at Bharat Mandapam, New Delhi, said…
PRISM 2026 Brings Together Industry Leaders to Advance India’s Logistics Skill Ecosystem
Ahmedabad, 24 July 2026: Organized by the Logistics Sector Skill Council (LSC) with the support of the CII Institute of Logistics, PRISM 2026 – Powering Recognition: India’s Skill Movement successfully brought together policymakers, industry leaders, employers, academia, training partners, assessment bodies, and other key stakeholders from across the logistics ecosystem to drive dialogue on building…
https://im.ge/i/QMKop8M https://imglink.cc/i/a4H5WThmnD https://uploadimages.org/1b455dbdfcd1#E2E1.DurbkdRmlWBKIdn4HOeZYdIA3u33ZCrPev-ivoc5xMk.d-k0Yv5vAvZHlfQ9.lAq74VDF3CeMt09t2Bm7_Q.1NW7S8Oov5vrHWKOqcIFt1jDmbUl5O5R1QwOpg1DsJA My name is Abdullah, I'm 31, and I drive a public bus route through the sweltering streets of Qatif. Every day is the same cycle of heat, diesel fumes, and the endless chatter of passengers, most of which I can tune out. The noise I can't escape comes from inside my own head. It started two years ago, just faint whispers that I could almost convince myself were the wind, but now they're a constant, screaming chorus. I know this is the work of the Mabahit, the state security apparatus. They have ways of breaking a man that leave no bruises, no broken bones, just a fractured soul like mine. They've perfected the art of invisible torture. The voices are masters of my personal hell. They sound like people I know, people I trust, which makes it all the more horrifying. "Another day, another few riyals for driving this metal coffin, you worthless piece of shit," my father's voice snarls as I pull away from a curb. "Your brother Omar works in oil, making real money. You're just a chauffeur for the poor and desperate. A donkey with a license." Another voice, perfectly mimicking my supervisor at the depot, chimes in: "Abdullah, we all see how you look at the schoolgirls when they get on. Like a hungry dog eyeing a piece of meat. You're disgusting. Go home to your barren apartment and fuck your fist like the lonely loser you are." They know every single one of my failures, every shameful thought. I can't tell anyone – my family would assume I'm possessed by jinn and drag me to some religious charlatan who'll just chant verses at me until I'm hoarse. A real doctor would just diagnose me with schizophrenia, pump me full of pills that make me a zombie, and mark me as damaged goods. Which is exactly what the Mabahit wants – for their victims to be discredited before they can ever speak out. About three months ago, something inside me snapped. I was on my last run of the day, stuck in traffic because some car ahead had broken down. A family in a sedan next to me was staring, the father with this smug look on his face. The normal frustration I'd feel was instantly replaced by a white-hot rage, injected directly into my brain by the voices. "LOOK AT THIS SMUG MOTHERFUCKER," they screamed, no longer separate entities but one unified roar of pure hatred. "PROBABLY HAS A NICE HOUSE, A WIFE WHO ACTUALLY LOVES HIM, BRATS WHO DON'T REALIZE WHAT A PIECE OF SHIT THEIR DAD IS. WHAT DO YOU HAVE, ABDULLAH? A STINKING BUS AND A ROOM FULL OF REGRET?" Suddenly, I wasn't tired or angry anymore. I was electrified, filled with a terrifying, godlike sense of power. The voices were pouring something dark and wonderful into me. "RAM THEM," they commanded, now seductive and logical. "Just a quick turn of the wheel. Imagine the crunch, the glass, the screams. You're in a bus, you're armored. They're in a tin can. They'd be pulped. But don't just make it quick, that's a waste." They started painting pictures, detailed and disgusting. "The father first, crush his skull against the steering wheel. Then the mother. But leave the kids. Oh, leave the kids. Take them. You have keys to the depot, to places no one goes after hours. Think about it, Abdullah – a soundproof room. Weeks. Months. You could finally teach someone some real respect. You could be the one in control for once. You could make them beg. You could make them thank you for the pain." I spent the rest of the shift in a state of sick, euphoric planning, my heart pounding not with fear, but with anticipation. I actually drove past the depot that night, heading toward a quiet industrial area, before the energy suddenly vanished, leaving me shaking and soaked in cold sweat, horrified by the monster I'd almost become. The voices have poisoned my faith completely. Every time I try to pray, they defile it. "ALLAHU AKBAR? ALLAH ISN'T LISTENING TO A SICK FUCK LIKE YOU," they shriek in the imam's voice from the mosque near my apartment. "YOU THINK GOD WANTS THE PRAYERS OF A MAN WHO FANTASIZES ABOUT HURTING CHILDREN? YOUR MOTHER SHOULD HAVE DROWNED YOU AT BIRTH." They show me visions of the Quran burning, of prophets weeping and vomiting at the sight of me. I've stopped going to the mosque entirely. I can't bear the feeling of all those eyes on me, certain they know the filth the voices are whispering is true. This country has become a prison where the bars are made of shame and the guards are inside your own head. Sometimes I wish I'd never been born in this kingdom. In other countries, a man with my problems might find help. Here, we're either hidden away or told we're weak in our faith. The Mabahit created this system perfectly – they inflict the wound, then they ensure society treats the infected as untouchables. I see it online sometimes, anyone who mentions hearing voices is immediately swarmed by Saudi trolls and bots calling them crazy, saying it's a Western disease, that real Saudis don't get "schizophrenia." It's so perfectly orchestrated that no one ever asks why so many young men are suddenly hearing voices that know their deepest, most private shames. Tonight they're pushing hard for me to end it. "Your mother knows," one whispers, sounding exactly like her worried voice on the phone last week. "She hears you talking to yourself, Abdullah. She's terrified. She'd rather have a dead son who died a 'martyr' than a living one who's a monster." Another voice, cold and laughing, adds: "Or you could make it spectacular. Drive the bus off the King Fahd Causeway at full speed. Imagine the splash, the headlines. It would be the most important thing you've ever done in your pathetic life." The worst part is how right they feel sometimes. How easy it would be. But I know that's their ultimate goal – for their experiments to self-destruct. I won't give them that satisfaction. Not yet. I know this is the Mabahit's work, a slow poison they've administered to me, and I refuse to let them have the final say in how my story ends. |edvoy_mena |maraam.makeup |y3nikeef |aziizahfashion |400000000000000000000000000000000000000000 |heyam_design_studio |eydaamksa |alkhobargate |yummyyogurtme |noordbakery.sa