Karol Nawrocki, a historian with steely eyes and a crucifix always tucked beneath his collar; the other, Donald Tusk, a seasoned statesman whose weary smile has steered Poland through both jubilation and crisis. Tonight, those faces are more than art; they're the future of a country on the brink.

Brain rot is the mental fog from endless scrolling, binge-watching, and chasing dopamine hits on apps designed to keep us hooked. In India, with 900 million online users (60% of the population), it’s a crisis. Forgetting who controls your mind. It’s losing focus, clarity, and creativity to algorithms that dictate what we see and feel.

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The Experiment That Changed Everything Five college students, all around 20, were asked to do the unthinkable: stay in bed for three weeks straight. No exercise, no movement, just pure, enforced stillness. The goal was to see what happens when the body grinds to a halt. The results? Their cardiovascular fitness, measured by how much oxygen their bodies could use during exercise, crashed by 27%.

Riya, a small-time exporter of handwoven shawls, her stall a riot of colors. She’s been shipping her goods to the US for years, her modest business keeping her family afloat. But last month, her American buyer sent her a panicked email: “Riya, the new 25% US tariff is killing us. We might have to cut orders.” Her heart sank. That single email, a business hiccup rippling across the globe, one that could force India’s Reserve Bank (RBI) to rethink its playbook.

Shanghai, neon lights flickering, vendors hawking steaming baozi, and a young trader, Li Wei, hunched over his phone in a dimly lit café. He’s not checking WeChat or scrolling Douyin. He’s frantically trying to access his Binance account, his heart racing as rumors swirl, China’s cracking down on crypto, again. His life savings, tied up in Bitcoin and Ethereum, are at stake. This is a hammer on millions like Li Wei, caught in the crosshairs of Beijing’s latest crypto ban. But

you’re visiting a Himalayan village, the air sharp with the scent of pine, the peaks towering like sentinels. The monsoon arrives, promising life to the parched valleys and thirsty farms. But instead of renewal, the clouds unleash a deluge so fierce it rips homes from their foundations, buries roads under mud, and poisons the very water you drink. This is the grim reality of the Himalayas in 2025.

You’re scrolling YouTube for cat videos, Googling taco joints, maybe eyeing a spicy app on the Play Store. Then, bam, Google’s AI decides you’re 15. No more personalized ads, no Maps timeline, and YouTube nudges you to bed. Why? It’s snooping through your searches, views, and clicks to guess your age, and it’s already reshaping your digital world. Buckle up, because this is Google’s bold new move, and it’s got us on edge.

Imagine Seamus, farmer, standing in a pub in Galway, pint in hand, his weathered face creased with worry. He’s not alone. The room buzzes with murmurs, fishermen, teachers, shopkeepers, all sharing the same unease. They’re not anti-Europe, mind you. They love the idea of open borders, shared culture, the ease of a weekend in Paris. But something feels off. Decisions that shape their lives, on fishing quotas, farming subsidies, even how their children are educated, aren’t made