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The development comes on a day the Supreme Court refused to entertain a plea seeking the court's intervention to declare the crisis in Joshimath a national disaster. 

 Joshimath land sinking: activists write to PM; number of buildings with cracks rise to 849

The development comes on a day the Supreme Court refused to entertain a plea seeking the court's intervention to declare the crisis in Joshimath a national disaster.&nbsp;

The Joshimath Bachao Sangharsh Samiti on Monday urged the Centre to take over the relief and rehabilitation work in Joshimath as it accused the Uttarakhand government of adopting a "lackadaisical" approach, even as number of buildings developing cracks in the subsidence-hit town rose to 849, out of which 165 are located in the danger zone. The Joshimath Bachao Sangharsh Samiti (JBSS) also raised pitch for scrapping of NTPC's Tapovan-Vishnugad hydel project.
The development comes on a day the Supreme Court refused to entertain a plea seeking the court's intervention to declare the crisis in Joshimath a national disaster, saying since the state high court is seized of a "broad range of issues" it should hear it as a matter of principle.
In a letter to Prime Minister Narendra Modi, JBSS convenor Atul Sati accused the state government of ignoring its warnings about the imminent disaster for 14 months and dealing with it now at a snail's pace.
Also Watch: <a href="https://www.editorji.com/india-news/delhi-university-forms-17-member-panel-for-hindu-studies-centre-in-varsity-1673920047032">Delhi University forms 17-member panel for 'Hindu Studies' centre in varsity</a>

In 1999, 15 people walked around Park Circus Maidan and the queer movement in India took a giant leap forward. We speak with Pawan Dhall, one of the first few walkers at the Kolkata Friendship March 1999! 

The Footnote | Revisiting India's first Pride Parade with Pawan Dhall 

In 1999, 15 people walked around Park Circus Maidan and the queer movement in India took a giant leap forward. We speak with Pawan Dhall, one of the first few walkers at the Kolkata Friendship March 1999!&nbsp;

23 years ago, 15 people took a symbolic round of the Park Circus Maidan, and the queer movement in India turned a began a new chapter in it&rsquo;s history. On this anniversary of the Kolkata Friendship Walk of 1999 we take a trip down memory lane with Pawan Dhall, a queer activist, writer and archivist.&nbsp; &nbsp; Nishtha Shanti: Can you take us back to 1999 and tell us what motivated you to hold the march and what preparation went into it? &nbsp;What was the day like, how did things feel and what was the kind of reaction you got after the parade? &nbsp;&nbsp; Pawan Dhall: I felt that this would have been just another &lsquo;michil&rsquo; or just another procession on the streets of Calcutta. And what big difference would it make? But I came around to the fact that we needed much more public visibility for the Indian queer movements. So, the Fire controversy, the controversy around the film Fire had already happened in the year 1998 and then also it spilled over into 1999. And that had brought the issue, the LGBT issues, into the public forum in one of the biggest ways ever. So, we had in the beginning, we had only 30 people who had agreed to participate. And on the day of the walk, only 15 turned up. And what we decided was that 15 people were not going to make much of a difference walking on the streets. So, we said that let's use this occasion to build bridges. So we did a symbolic walk in Park Circus Maidan, and then we split into two teams. So both the teams visited different NGOs, other social activists and government offices to talk to people to advocate on the issue of LGBT rights, and to explain LGBT rights are nothing different from human rights. The photographs went out all the media publications and one of the members who walked in in the first walk, he actually came out to his family through the walk, actually, because his photograph was also published and his family happened to see it and ask him questions. So, he used that occasion to come out to his family and fortunately he was quite well accepted &nbsp; &nbsp; NS: At the time how did the queer community react to the march? How important is inclusivity of all groups within the movement? &nbsp; &nbsp; PD: Some of the queer support groups said that &lsquo;Oh this is just a Western fad&rsquo; You have pride marches in New York and Sydney and you&rsquo;re just a poor copy of those pride marches. But I personally think that that is not how it was and for us straight acting gay men or bisexual men to be visible on the street and to be visible in public forums, it was something empowering I personally had to face a lot of criticism from fellow gay men that you are walking with lower class people, you are working with hijras, you are working with sex workers. They are not respectable. Is this the way you want to take the movement forward? So, my answer was that it is such a sad thing for you to say this because you guys are so scared all the time you are hiding in the safety of your house. You are running down people who are actually out there fighting for your rights. They are getting beaten up by the police, they are being joked about by the public, but they are facing it with courage and they are walking their pride. And this is actually nothing but misogyny as well as transphobia, which was present among many sections of the queer community and still is actually. &nbsp; &nbsp; NS: Most major cities now have their own parades that are held as a celebration and on a large scale, that largely can be attributed to the step you took all those years ago. How do you feel about queer activism today? &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; PD: There were something which the Supreme Court had said in its verdict of September 2018, is that we owe an apology to the queer community for all the stigma, discrimination and violence inflicted on the queer community through the years. But what have the governments done to honor the Supreme Court's verdict either for 2018 or for the NALSA judgment on transgender rights in 2014? It is eight years now, but how many government offices have become transgender inclusive? How many government hospitals have toilets where transgender persons can go confidently without being joked or without being called names? So why would these individuals come to the government hospital &nbsp; if they&rsquo;re not going to be treated with respect? &nbsp;Why does the police come and tell adult Indians that you have to listen to your parents? Be a good boy, be a good girl, get married, have children, that is destiny. That is not the police's job. The police's job is to protect our rights. And we have rights irrespective of gender and sexuality. So, the newer activists have to keep in mind the fundamentals and not be swayed just by the upper, you know, the flimflam, the rainbow colors. That doesn't make any difference at the end of the day.&nbsp;

Students thrash pregnant dog to death in Delhi; angry activists seek action

After the video of the gruesome killing which happened in a park surfaced on social media, New Friends Colony Police registered an FIR in the matter.

Around 25 students and staff members suspected to be of Don Bosco Technical Institute in South East Delhi allegedly ganged up against a pregnant street dog and bludgeoned her to death after torturing her, officials said.
After the video of the gruesome killing which happened in a park surfaced on social media, New Friends Colony Police registered an FIR in the matter.
According to the complaint, two brothers of the institute were also allegedly present under instructions from the senior staff.
ALSO WATCH: <a title="Explained: Gurugram bans 11 dog breeds. Here's what the new order says" href="https://www.editorji.com/india-news/explained-gurugram-bans-11-dog-breeds-here-s-what-the-new-order-says-1668692650386">Explained: Gurugram bans 11 dog breeds. Here's what the new order says</a>
The disturbing video shows an all male gang of students cornering the scared dog inside a tin shed on the institute's campus which is entered by a student with a rod in his hand, and the remaining students egging him on from outside, they said.
The 15-minute-long video carrying horrid visual of the torture and killing of the animal went viral on Saturday with activists and dog lovers seeking strict actions against the accused, suspected to be students of the institute located in Okhla.
Later, one of the crowd members could be seen dragging the dog through what has reported to be the college compound.
The ghastly act surfaced within days of another such video from Ghaziabad which showed three people killing a dog by hanging him in a grotesque manner. The accused in this incident were booked in a case by police after a complaint.
"It is horrific to see such brutality by young students who can be seen laughing as they beat an expectant mother to death," said Ambika Shukla, Trustee, PFA.

Sulimaniyah (Iraq), Oct 9 (AP) Growing up under a repressive system, Sharo, a 35-year-old university graduate, never thought she would hear words of open rebellion spoken out loud.
Now she herself chants slogans like “Death to the Dictator!” with a fury she didn't know she had, as she joins protests calling for toppling the country's rulers.
Sharo said that after three weeks of protests, triggered by the death of a young woman in the custody of the feared morality police, anger at the authorities is only rising, despite a bloody crackdown that has left dozens dead and hundreds in detention.
“The situation here is tense and volatile,” she said, referring to the city of Sanandaj in the majority Kurdish home district of the same name in northwestern Iran, one of the hot spots of the protests.
“We are just waiting for something to happen, like a time-bomb," she said, speaking to The Associated Press via Telegram messenger service.
The anti-government protests in Sanandaj, 300 miles (500 kilometres) from the capital, are a microcosm of the leaderless protests that have roiled Iran.
Led largely by women and youth, they have evolved from spontaneous mass gatherings in central areas to scattered demonstrations in residential areas, schools and universities as activists try to evade an increasingly brutal crackdown.
Tensions rose again on Saturday in Sanandaj after rights monitors said two protesters were shot dead and several were wounded, following a resumption of demonstrations.
Residents said there has been a heavy security presence in the city, with constant patrols and security personnel stationed on major streets.
The Associated Press spoke to six female activists in Sanandaj who said suppression tactics, including beatings, arrests, the use of live ammunition and internet disruptions make it difficult at times to keep the momentum going.
Yet protests persist, along with other expressions of civil disobedience, such as commercial strikes and drivers honking horns at security forces.
The activists in the city spoke on the condition their full names be withheld fearing reprisals by Iranian authorities. Their accounts were corroborated by three human rights monitors.
THE BURIAL Three weeks ago, the news of the death of 22-year old Mahsa Amini in the custody of the morality police in Tehran spread rapidly across her home province of Kurdistan, of which Sanandaj is the capital.
The response was swift in the impoverished and historically marginalised area.
As the burial was underway in Amini's town of Saqqez on September 17, protesters were already filling Sanandaj's main thoroughfare, activists said.
People of all ages were present and began chanting slogans that would be repeated in cities across Iran: “Woman. Life. Freedom.” The Amini family had been under pressure from the government to bury Mahsa quickly before a critical mass of protesters formed, said Afsanah, a 38-year-old clothing designer from Saqqez.
She was at the burial that day and followed the crowds from the cemetery to the city square.
Rozan, a 32-year old housewife, didn't know Amini personally. But when she heard the young woman had died in the custody of the morality police in Tehran and had been arrested for violating the Islamic Republic's hijab rules, she felt compelled to take to the street that day.
“The same thing happened to me,” she said. In 2013, like Amini, she had ventured to the capital with a friend when she was apprehended by the morality police because her abaya, or loose robe that is part of the mandatory dress code, was too short.
She was taken to the same facility where Amini later died, and fingerprinted and made to sign a declaration of guilt.
“It could have been me,” she said. In the years since then Rozan, a former nurse, was fired from the local government health department for being too vocal about her views about women's rights.
After the funeral, she saw an elderly woman take a step forward and in one swift gesture, remove her headscarf. “I felt inspired to do the same,” she said.
SUPPRESSION In the first three days after the burial, protesters were plucked from the demonstrations in arrest sweeps in Sanandaj. By the end of the week, arrests targeted known activists and protest organizers.
Dunya, a lawyer, said she was one among a small group of women's rights activists who helped organise protests. They also asked shopkeepers to respect a call for a commercial strike along the city's main streets.
“Almost all the women in our group are in jail now,” she said.
Internet blackouts made it difficult for protesters to communicate with one another across cities and with the outside world.
“We would wake up in the morning and have no idea what was happening,” said Sharo, the university graduate. The internet would return intermittently, often late at night or during working hours, but swiftly cut off in the late afternoon, the time many would gather to protest.
The heavy security presence also prevented mass gatherings.
“There are patrols in almost every street, and they break up groups, even if its just two or three people walking on the street,” said Sharo.
During demonstrations security forces fired pellet guns and tear gas at the crowd causing many to run. Security personnel on motorcycles also drove into crowds in an effort to disperse them.
All activists interviewed said they either witnessed or heard live ammunition. Iranian authorities have so far denied this, blaming separatist groups on occasions when the use of live fire was verified.
The two protesters killed on Saturday in Sanandaj were killed by live fire, according to the France-based Kurdistan Human Rights network.
Protesters say fear is a close companion. The wounded were often reluctant to use ambulances or go to hospitals, worried they might get arrested. Activists also suspected government informants were trying to blend in with the crowds.
But acts of resistance have continued.
“I assure you the protests are not over,” said Sharo. “The people are angry, they are talking back to the police in ways I have never seen.” DISOBEDIENCE The anger runs deep. In Sanandaj the confluence of three factors has rendered the city a ripe ground for protest activity — a history of Kurdish resistance, rising poverty and a long history of women's rights activism.
Yet the protests are not defined along ethnic or regional lines even though they were sparked in a predominantly Kurdish area, said Tara Sepehri Fars, a researcher for Human Rights Watch. “It's been very unique in that sense,” she said.
There have been waves of protest in Iran in recent years, the largest in 2009 bringing large crowds into the streets after what protesters felt was a stolen election.
But the continued defiance and demands for regime change during the current wave seem to pose the most serious challenge in years to the Islamic Republic.
Like most of Iran, Sanandaj has suffered as US sanctions and the coronavirus pandemic devastated the economy and spurred inflation.
Far from the capital, in the fringes of the country, its majority Kurdish residents are eyed with suspicion by the regime.
By the third week, with the opening of universities and schools, students began holding small rallies and joined the movement.
Videos circulated on social media showed students jeering school masters, school girls removing their headscarves on the street and chanting: “One by one they will kill us if we don't stand together.” One university student said they were planning on boycotting classes altogether.
Afsanah, the clothing designer, said that she likes wearing headscarves. “But I am protesting because it was never my choice.” Her parents, fearing for her safety, tried to persuade her to stay home. But she disobeyed them, pretending to go to work in the morning only to search for protest gatherings around the city.
“I am angry, and I am without fear — we just need this feeling to overflow on the street,” she said. 

Iran: State run LIVE TV hacked during Khemani's address

Hackers broke into evening news on Iran's state TV, just as footage of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, was being broadcast. Iran is witnessing its biggest-ever protests led by women against the killing of a Kurdish girl who died in police custody

Hackers broke into evening news on Iran's state TV, just as footage of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, was being broadcast. Iran is witnessing its biggest-ever protests led by women against the killing of a Kurdish girl who died in police custody

Growing up under a repressive system, Sharo, a 35-year-old university graduate, never thought she would hear words of open rebellion spoken out loud.
Now she herself chants slogans like &ldquo;Death to the Dictator!&rdquo; with a fury she didn't know she had, as she joins protests calling for toppling the country's rulers.
Sharo said that after three weeks of protests, triggered by the death of a young woman in the custody of the feared morality police, anger at the authorities is only rising, despite a bloody crackdown that has left dozens dead and hundreds in detention.
&ldquo;The situation here is tense and volatile,&rdquo; she said, referring to the city of Sanandaj in the majority Kurdish home district of the same name in northwestern Iran, one of the hot spots of the protests.
&ldquo;We are just waiting for something to happen, like a time-bomb," she said, speaking to The Associated Press via Telegram messenger service.
The anti-government protests in Sanandaj, 300 miles (500 kilometres) from the capital, are a microcosm of the leaderless protests that have roiled Iran.
Led largely by women and youth, they have evolved from spontaneous mass gatherings in central areas to scattered demonstrations in residential areas, schools and universities as activists try to evade an increasingly brutal crackdown.
Tensions rose again on Saturday in Sanandaj after rights monitors said two protesters were shot dead and several were wounded, following a resumption of demonstrations.
Residents said there has been a heavy security presence in the city, with constant patrols and security personnel stationed on major streets.
The Associated Press spoke to six female activists in Sanandaj who said suppression tactics, including beatings, arrests, the use of live ammunition and internet disruptions make it difficult at times to keep the momentum going.
Yet protests persist, along with other expressions of civil disobedience, such as commercial strikes and drivers honking horns at security forces.
The activists in the city spoke on the condition their full names be withheld fearing reprisals by Iranian authorities. Their accounts were corroborated by three human rights monitors.
THE BURIAL Three weeks ago, the news of the death of 22-year old Mahsa Amini in the custody of the morality police in Tehran spread rapidly across her home province of Kurdistan, of which Sanandaj is the capital.
The response was swift in the impoverished and historically marginalised area.
As the burial was underway in Amini's town of Saqqez on September 17, protesters were already filling Sanandaj's main thoroughfare, activists said.
People of all ages were present and began chanting slogans that would be repeated in cities across Iran: &ldquo;Woman. Life. Freedom.&rdquo; The Amini family had been under pressure from the government to bury Mahsa quickly before a critical mass of protesters formed, said Afsanah, a 38-year-old clothing designer from Saqqez.
She was at the burial that day and followed the crowds from the cemetery to the city square.
Rozan, a 32-year old housewife, didn't know Amini personally. But when she heard the young woman had died in the custody of the morality police in Tehran and had been arrested for violating the Islamic Republic's hijab rules, she felt compelled to take to the street that day.
&ldquo;The same thing happened to me,&rdquo; she said. In 2013, like Amini, she had ventured to the capital with a friend when she was apprehended by the morality police because her abaya, or loose robe that is part of the mandatory dress code, was too short.
She was taken to the same facility where Amini later died, and fingerprinted and made to sign a declaration of guilt.
&ldquo;It could have been me,&rdquo; she said. In the years since then Rozan, a former nurse, was fired from the local government health department for being too vocal about her views about women's rights.
After the funeral, she saw an elderly woman take a step forward and in one swift gesture, remove her headscarf. &ldquo;I felt inspired to do the same,&rdquo; she said.
SUPPRESSION In the first three days after the burial, protesters were plucked from the demonstrations in arrest sweeps in Sanandaj. By the end of the week, arrests targeted known activists and protest organizers.
Dunya, a lawyer, said she was one among a small group of women's rights activists who helped organise protests. They also asked shopkeepers to respect a call for a commercial strike along the city's main streets.
&ldquo;Almost all the women in our group are in jail now,&rdquo; she said.
Internet blackouts made it difficult for protesters to communicate with one another across cities and with the outside world.
&ldquo;We would wake up in the morning and have no idea what was happening,&rdquo; said Sharo, the university graduate. The internet would return intermittently, often late at night or during working hours, but swiftly cut off in the late afternoon, the time many would gather to protest.
The heavy security presence also prevented mass gatherings.
&ldquo;There are patrols in almost every street, and they break up groups, even if its just two or three people walking on the street,&rdquo; said Sharo.
During demonstrations security forces fired pellet guns and tear gas at the crowd causing many to run. Security personnel on motorcycles also drove into crowds in an effort to disperse them.
All activists interviewed said they either witnessed or heard live ammunition. Iranian authorities have so far denied this, blaming separatist groups on occasions when the use of live fire was verified.
The two protesters killed on Saturday in Sanandaj were killed by live fire, according to the France-based Kurdistan Human Rights network.
Protesters say fear is a close companion. The wounded were often reluctant to use ambulances or go to hospitals, worried they might get arrested. Activists also suspected government informants were trying to blend in with the crowds.
But acts of resistance have continued.
&ldquo;I assure you the protests are not over,&rdquo; said Sharo. &ldquo;The people are angry, they are talking back to the police in ways I have never seen.&rdquo; DISOBEDIENCE The anger runs deep. In Sanandaj the confluence of three factors has rendered the city a ripe ground for protest activity &mdash; a history of Kurdish resistance, rising poverty and a long history of women's rights activism.
Yet the protests are not defined along ethnic or regional lines even though they were sparked in a predominantly Kurdish area, said Tara Sepehri Fars, a researcher for Human Rights Watch. &ldquo;It's been very unique in that sense,&rdquo; she said.
There have been waves of protest in Iran in recent years, the largest in 2009 bringing large crowds into the streets after what protesters felt was a stolen election.
But the continued defiance and demands for regime change during the current wave seem to pose the most serious challenge in years to the Islamic Republic.
Like most of Iran, Sanandaj has suffered as US sanctions and the coronavirus pandemic devastated the economy and spurred inflation.
Far from the capital, in the fringes of the country, its majority Kurdish residents are eyed with suspicion by the regime.
By the third week, with the opening of universities and schools, students began holding small rallies and joined the movement.
Videos circulated on social media showed students jeering school masters, school girls removing their headscarves on the street and chanting: &ldquo;One by one they will kill us if we don't stand together.&rdquo; One university student said they were planning on boycotting classes altogether.
Also watch: <a href="https://www.editorji.com/world-news/mahsa-amini-died-due-to-illness-not-beatings-iran-1665147374537">Mahsa Amini died due to 'illness not beatings': Iran</a>
Afsanah, the clothing designer, said that she likes wearing headscarves. &ldquo;But I am protesting because it was never my choice.&rdquo; Her parents, fearing for her safety, tried to persuade her to stay home. But she disobeyed them, pretending to go to work in the morning only to search for protest gatherings around the city.
&ldquo;I am angry, and I am without fear &mdash; we just need this feeling to overflow on the street,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp;

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