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Quote by Abhijit Naskar

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Honor He Wrote: 100 Sonnets For Humans Not Vegetables

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Abhijit Naskar

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“Everybody is a terrorist, till you see the reformist. Bring that reformer out my friend, in its full glory and ferociousness. Once you do, every time a politician or fundamentalist even dreams of doing something inhuman, a voice of caution will strike them from inside - don't you dare, kid - or else, they’ll bring hell down on you - then you’ll have neither the seat, nor the ass to sit on it!”

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Book:Mucize Misafir Merhaba: The Peace Testament
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“When the civilians remember their responsibility, politicians will forget which party they belong to, so will their next of kin. And at the slightest urge for exploitation, a voice of caution will ring in their head - don't you dare, kid - or else, you’ll have neither the seat nor the ass to sit on it!”

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Book:Corazon Calamidad: Obedient to None, Oppressive to None
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“When it comes to making self-soothing choices about how to engage, this means going to speaking events where you are empowered to make change, where you are inspired by the group and activities rather than drained. Finding comfortable spaces with like-minded people is a way to feel less alone in your world-views and supported by community.”

PoliticsCommunityCivics
Book:Democracy in Retrograde: How to Make Changes Big and Small in Our Country and in Our Lives
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“They had chains which they fastened about the leg of the nearest hog, and the other end of the chain they hooked into one of the rings upon the wheel. So, as the wheel turned, a hog was suddenly jerked off his feet and borne aloft. At the same instant the ear was assailed by a most terrifying shriek; the visitors started in alarm, the women turned pale and shrank back. The shriek was followed by another, louder and yet more agonizing--for once started upon that journey, the hog never came back; at the top of the wheel he was shunted off upon a trolley and went sailing down the room. And meantime another was swung up, and then another, and another, until there was a double line of them, each dangling by a foot and kicking in frenzy--and squealing. The uproar was appalling, perilous to the ear-drums; one feared there was too much sound for the room to hold--that the walls must give way or the ceiling crack. There were high squeals and low squeals, grunts, and wails of agony; there would come a momentary lull, and then a fresh outburst, louder than ever, surging up to a deafening climax. It was too much for some of the visitors--the men would look at each other, laughing nervously, and the women would stand with hands clenched, and the blood rushing to their faces, and the tears starting in their eyes. Meantime, heedless of all these things, the men upon the floor were going about their work. Neither squeals of hogs nor tears of visitors made any difference to them; one by one they hooked up the hogs, and one by one with a swift stroke they slit their throats. There was a long line of hogs, with squeals and life-blood ebbing away together; until at last each started again, and vanished with a splash into a huge vat of boiling water. It was all so very businesslike that one watched it fascinated. It was pork-making by machinery, pork-making by applied mathematics. And yet somehow the most matter-of-fact person could not help thinking of the hogs; they were so innocent, they came so very trustingly; and they were so very human in their protests--and so perfectly within their rights! They had done nothing to deserve it; and it was adding insult to injury, as the thing was done here, swinging them up in this cold-blooded, impersonal way, without a pretence at apology, without the homage of a tear. Now and then a visitor wept, to be sure; but this slaughtering-machine ran on, visitors or no visitors. It was like some horrible crime committed in a dungeon, all unseen and unheeded, buried out of sight and of memory.”

PorkFactory FarmingAssembly LineMeat IndustrySlaughterhouse
Book:The Jungle
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