The sky has changed its colour. Blue has given way to a bruised purple. Smoke hangs like a curse over the Persian Gulf. War has paused, but its shadow has not. The guns may fall silent, but the air does not.

A few days ago, a young mother, a seemingly ordinary woman in Agra, killed her toddler daughter. Local reports, still unfolding, suggest the motive was not rage or neglect, but a lover. The child, investigators whispered, had become an "obstacle". This case is not an aberration.

The sky's playing us for fools. Once predictable, today's weather is a treacherous trickster; ditching gentle rains for deluges, mild heat for killer heatwaves. It's time to face facts: nature's mood swings are no joke, and our old tricks won't cut it anymore.

There was a time when love itself was rebellion. Falling in love meant defying the family. Challenging society. Whispered meetings, secret letters, stolen glances. The whole affair had the flavour of a Bollywood drama. As the old dialogue goes: “Pyar kiya to darna kya."

How long can Iran hold out? Fifteen days? A month? Or will it drag on for years, stretched in weary, laboured breaths?

One morning, the tap will open… and nothing will come out. No warning. No apology. Just a hollow cough of air. That day has a name. Day Zero. And, don’t be fooled; it isn’t a dystopian story anymore. It is quietly circling India.