I want to talk about how ironic it is that I first found out about Sonam Wangchuk back in 2020 when he was supporting the government’s decision to ban Chinese apps. Even the most hard-core Modi fans were kind of annoyed by that decision because it seemed inconsequential, but his video actually changed so many’s views on why it was necessary. He was talking about underconsumption and sustainable living before it was cool, and now he’s being labeled as a Chinese agent? I… I can’t even begin to comment on that.

If the Chinese wanted someone on their side, they could have chosen a much softer target than him.

I want to talk about how saying “Indian media is a joke” is a gross understatement. Jokes are funny and inconsequential, but what the Indian media is doing today is way beyond undemocratic and illegitimate – it’s criminal.

I want to talk about how I agree it’s kind of disappointing that a lot of big stars aren’t speaking up about this, but it also sort of adds a layer of relief and legitimacy to the whole thing.

As a cynic, it proves to me that this indeed isn’t synthetic outrage and the people speaking up aren’t reading from a script but actually believe and feel those things.

I want to talk about how this brings back memories from when I was preparing for these exams and what it felt like to give those exams and just feel that burden of one paper being able to decide your entire future.

Not right now but a conversation needs to be had, or rather needs to be resumed, about why these students even feel like a single paper or a single exam and a single day is so consequential to their lives that they not only feel suicidal but also feel so beyond gone and so beyond helpless that they actually manage to act on those suicidal thoughts and take.. their own life.

I want to talk about how ridiculous it is that something as universal as education needs a political incentive just for it to become a national priority.

Want to talk about how indifferent, arrogant, and ignorant the ruling party is, and how dystopian it feels that a man who called himself the *Pradhan Sevak* a few years ago is the least accessible person in this country. I will find God in India before I could find a channel between tax-paying voters and the man they elected to be in power.

I wonder if BJP ever realises that Modi is not just the PM to the people who voted for him.

I want to talk about how, for the last I-don’t-even-know-how-many years, not just this party, but with every party – We know exactly how their tactics work: how good they are at deflecting. Aggregating everyone’s hate, and directing it toward anyone or anything that isn’t them. If people are angry about bad roads, a pathetic education system, and toxic AQI, they’ll introduce a new enemy into the field – a comedian, an actor, the poor, or the unemployed and paint them as the problem to distract everyone from the real issue.

I have a terrifying hunch that the Delhi police and the RAF folks were specifically directed to be brutal, use tear gas, lathi-charge, and go completely ham so that the public’s hate gets directed at them instead of the actual people in power passing those orders. Yes, the police brutality is a real issue. They should practice restraint while following orders 100% they should – but they still aren’t the primary enemies.

The real enemies are sitting safe and sound in parliament, in their AC cabinets, tweeting about anything under the sun except what actually needs to be said.

You can access the policemen, film them, shout back, fight back, and mock them, but the people we are actually trying to reach? You can’t even breathe the same air as them.

I want to talk about how even though it’s disappointing that CJP is leading the protest. I haven’t really made up my mind about another political party yet, but I also want to talk about how I don’t feel like that would be such a bad thing. I don’t think it would be so terrible if someone uses this to catapult their own political career – would it really be so bad to have another option so I can at least *hope* they do better?

Being aware of why the Congress regime ended, how AAP turned out to be, it feels like anybody or any party who steps into the system takes only half a decade or a decade

before they get just as rotten as the system they swore to change.

In corporate we often talk of “forwar-looking” strategies. I don’t even wanna think about the future. What will it look like? Should I be mad at people who are radicalised enough to see a 18 year old student and think “yep looks like a terrorist to me” or should I reflect about how they are victims of similar level of systematic brainwashing that actual terrorists go through.

I mean Even NDTV is part of the circus now?

What about the poor kids who leave this episode feeling optimistic about Pradhan’s resignation? Do I tell them about what happened after the Anna Hazare protest?

I want to talk about how all of this will also, unfortunately and undeniably, die down. The common people, who have so much fire inside them right now that they’re ready to put their jobs and lives at risk to protest, will eventually get sucked back into earning a livelihood, and that’s *exactly* what the government is banking on.

I want to talk about how all of this feels so performative. If I say nothing I’m unknowingly compliant. If I post this… and I’m not even sure if I will but putting up a story on Instagram will feel performative because Instagram isn’t real life; it doesn’t exist outside a phone screen.

I know something is better than nothing but it all just feels so superficial that staying silent and actually allowing myself to be truly affected by it all without announcing it seems more... idk genuine? Real?

I want to talk about how I’m not even sure if I’m feeling these emotions or if I’m just being fed by an algorithm. Would I even continue feeling so strongly about this if the visuals weren’t so disturbing, edited to fit my rotten-away attention span, and fueled by motivational music?

How can I talk of change and revolution at a national level when I’m terrified of even initiating a discussion with my own family members?

I worry that just talking about it and needing someone to listen makes it feel like I’m making this about myself.

And finally, I want to talk about how I feel that despite being in a position of extreme privilege, there is nothing I can truly and meaningfully do unless I choose to commit to it fully: enter politics or take on the brutal path of activism and chasing systemic change which, if I’m being honest with myself, I know I won’t take because I AM A COWARD.

Recommended to read the first part here.

It's ridiculous how out of all of the pretentious self-righteous mortals present here, I have to be the one to step up and stop these guys. The ones who would shame people for using plastic straws but wouldn’t step in when someone is being harassed right in front of them.

It's truly sickening how even as adults, such people still exist. I try my best to give these idiots the benefit of the doubt. What insecurities are you trying to mask? Who hurt you? What is the frustration that you’re trying to vent out on this guy whose only fault was to turn down the kebabs that you offered him?
One of the few perks of being a woman is having a shrill voice that draws enough attention to embarrass these jerks. They eventually back off and scatter away. The poor guy coughs out the food that he didn’t sign up to eat. He gives me a sincere nod and heads straight out of the party. Clearly, he was done celebrating whatever it is we are celebrating.

Back to this lame party I guess. It’s getting lamer by each passing second. Like that guy in the corner who thinks I can’t notice him continuously staring at me. I’ve ignored him long enough now. Ah whatever, I’ve already created one scene I might as well create another. So I look back at him, we make eye contact and…

Could that be…? Him? It can’t be. What are the odds? Could that really be… Smorky?

He doesn’t recognise me, does he? There’s no way he does. Its been more than a decade. It was 9th grade before he eventually switched schools.

Smug and dorky — Smorky as I labelled him. The class topper, the school topper actually and a total computer nerd. Teachers loved him because, well, why wouldn’t they, but also popular among masses for being incredibly witty, funny and helpful.
I adored him from the very first time we met. We had went out for coffee and all I could think of was how much I wanted to be as confident and crowd pleasing as him.

He was my mom’s favourite out of all my friends. My dad liked him too. He was a “good influence” on someone as brazen as me you see. She would constantly compare him to me. Her taunts were always laced with the undertones of her wishing that I was more like him. Obviously your friends are supposed to be the one you look up to and base your personality on and and not your actual alcoholic-always-fighting-mostly-absent parents right? Right.
The teachers weren’t too pleased by the fact that he shared seats with me during class. I was the untouchable mini-skirt-wearing backbencher after all. The one who showed too much interest in sports rather than actual academics. I was just the “bad influence”. I once overheard a bunch of teachers comparing me to Mary Magdalene trying to bust the Lord’s restraint. A 15-year-old me didn’t get the extreme sexism in that line but surely felt that it was more than a joke. A brutally hurtful joke. I remember telling this to him hoping that he would provide me with some words of affirmations that an attention-seeking teenager usually craves.

Instead, he took pride in being compared to to the almighty by teachers and eventually just told me to laugh it off. And so I did.
It was hilarious.
He often used to crack these jokes by himself. About how much his parents hated me, how some teachers had tried to talk him out of being friends with me and just how much he was giving up just to hang out with me.
Truly hilarious.

My friends never liked him and finally I could see why.

As adults we all are eventually able to make a life of our own and take pride in big and small victories throughout. Happiness no longer comes from outshining others or standing out, it truly comes from within.

But that’s not how a teenage mind works —

Scoring perfectly on a test that everyone scored perfectly on is meaningless. If you embarrass yourself once it’ll be remembered forever. People with confidence have “bad attitude”. You have no idea what your future holds but this person right here sure has a bright future laid out in front of him. He knows it and he shows it.
How dare he.

How dare he take pride in himself and his own capabilities. How dare he flaunt his own hard work. How dare he be the class topper AND be charming. Weren’t nerds supposed to be anti social under-confident losers? It looked like the balance needed to be restored. And we took it upon ourselves to do that.

Its just a few pranks right? A few practical jokes thats it. You don’t mean harm, you never do. But it annoyed us that not enough people hate him as much as we did. You see, according to us, he deserved to be hated. It started with a few harmless posts on his socials. It turned to spreading rumours about him. It caught on. It felt good. Crowds really do hear whoever is the loudest. We took full advantage of that. Just a few sparks here and there and eventually he was getting what he “deserved”.
He “deserved” the worse. And he got it.

He eventually had to change schools. I don’t exactly remember what we felt as he left. It was just something… heavy. I remember how silent and awkward our evening catch-ups became for a while. We all knew we had done something awful but we had multiple dumb ways to justify it. I guess we still do. Wasn’t it all fun and games? Nobody told us that our actions could have consequences THIS real. How come no one stopped us? How come on one taught us that just because something could be done doesn’t mean it should be.

But we were a bunch of stupid kids right. Just a bunch of teenagers with raging hormones and the insatiable urge to be noticed and validated. We eventually moved on and life returned to normal.

I’m sure for him as well right? Right?

Back in the present, there is some silence following the kebabs incident, some nervously exchanged glances and apologies and after a while everything goes back to normal. We chat around, have our dinner and then call it a night.
Party’s over and we move out of the room when I try to steal a last quick glance at him.

He’s still standing in that same corner. Avoiding people and any type of eye contact. Isn’t this how I wanted him to be?

I sure succeeded.

“Sometimes a man gets exactly what he wishes for; and that could be the most perfect punishment of all”. — Joe Goldberg.

I’ve spent the last 20 minutes searching for anything remotely decent in my wardrobe. Man, I need to go shopping. The last time I went shopping was with my mom which explains why I look like such a vanilla IT guy who’ll help you fix your computer and then go straight back to work.
Also, PSA “girls like nerdy guys” is total bullshit.

Is my cellphone fully charged? Does my hair look too shabby? Should I drive? I shouldn’t. What if I get tipsy? If I don’t take my car it might take ages to get a cab. But where will I park my car if I do take it…

Alright act cool, pick up that red paper glass, take a few sips, don’t drop your smile, find a safe corner and look at the fairy lights to calm yourself. We’re not having another public panic attack, not today. I’m fine, totally fine. Made a few small talks, and these people are quite nice. I’m a total natural at beer pong and heck I even made a hundred bucks off the last poker round, so yay. This is going surprisingly well.

That is until my eyes met hers.

I still remember it like it was yesterday. Local high school, 9th grade, same batch. She used to wear her hair in a neat single braid with two strands strategically falling out. She never wore any makeup apart from lip gloss. Her clothing choices were impeccable — bold yet understated.

Her walk was something that I could never forget. I can recall the sound her blue sneakers would make when she would walk in the corridors. It would make me immediately aware of her presence and it would then become impossible for me to focus on anything else. My best friend used to try to calm me down and tell me to stop giving her so much importance. But I was never able to do that. I knew he wanted the best for me but he just didn’t get this. He hadn’t felt that way and didn’t understand that one can’t just stop these feelings.

I can never forget the first ever time she spoke to me. She needed help with her assignment. I had never imagined that my proficiency in computers could get the most popular girl to talk to me. I helped her with all my ability making sure nothing was out of place. We went out for coffee later where we met some of her friends. None of them seemed to like me very much though.
I remember the first nickname that she gave me. “Smorky” — kind of a play on the words smug and dorky. She said I was a cool nerd. Not the uncool boring introverted types but confident, outgoing, and witty. That was probably the best compliment I’d ever received. It made me blush.

Smorky is long gone. What remains of him is this fruitless fellow who has to practice his dialogues even before he passes a compliment.

Even after all these years, it's impossible for me to get over her. I wish I could crack open my skull and disconnect the neural pathways that were formed in my brain 10 years ago because of her. She’s wearing her hair short now but that strut is still there. Still looks like she owns the place. Even today looking at her makes my pulse quicken. It’s so disorienting looking at her after so long. Cheerful, oblivious, and surrounded by the same friends.

I was slightly surprised that these people were still together. I couldn’t believe they still wanted to be around each other and possibly reminisce about that part of their lives at all.

And then it occurred to me that not everyone had a deeply unhappy childhood like mine. Not everyone spent 15 years trying to overcome the first 15.

The thing about being bullied is that for the longest time you wouldn’t even realise that it’s happening.

The first time you walk into a room where you can sense everyone has been talking about you is rather counter-intuitive. You’ve been hearing loud whispers and soon as you walk in there’s a sharp drop in audio levels and you see numerous unpleasant glances thrown your way. You’ll brush it off and walk to the corner escaping those glances. Maybe look at the ceiling lights to distract yourself and make small talk with people you’ve never spoken to before. I experienced this in my school cafeteria which used to be my favourite place, that is until it became the go-to spot to get cornered and disgraced.

She told me once that I should “fit in” and be more amicable. And so I did. And then she told me that I should stop “trying so hard”. And so I did. And somehow that was really offensive. How dare I not put enough effort to behave the way I was expected to? How dare I not conform.

Seeing your books and notebooks out on a muddy field while it’s pouring is a sight you never forget. You watch as the inked text seeps into the puddles and eventually the sheets disintegrate. Accompanying this lovely sight are smirking faces and taunting laughs. You’ll think you’re doing yourself a favour by informing the authorities but very soon you’ll go from being the guy nobody even knew existed to being the most hated person. You’ll become the target of an online campaign aimed at getting rid of “tattletales”, the loser who people avoid at lunch tables, the dud who deserves to get locked in the washroom. Initially, you’ll be in denial thinking that you’re not as important or can do anything remotely threatening to offend people enough that they gang up against you. You’d be wrong.

She and her friends wouldn’t be satisfied just by causing me inconveniences. It was really important to them that I was weighed down, that I had nothing to be happy about or have any safe space. They made sure that nobody ever took a stand for me — that I faced it all by myself.

I can still relive, see, feel and experience all those instances like it was yesterday. It makes me wonder if it's still as fresh in the minds of these people as well. After all, it was all so well orchestrated on their part. Do they remember those days and high-five each other over their well-executed plans? Do they think about getting together and doing it all again… you know just for old time’s sake?

I’m truly the king of zoning out. Back in the present where my train of thoughts seemed to have taken me to a land far away, I was interrupted by folks who asked me to proceed to the dinner table. The food looks great. The people? Not so much.

There is always that one poor bastard who doesn’t eat meat and has the misfortune of being spotted by a bunch of anti-vegan fanatics. I see him struggling to get out of their grip and shake my head from a distance as they try to shove kebabs down his throat. It’s sickening how people can just never accept that not everybody has to conform, not everybody gets their “humour” and maybe, just maybe it’s not even funny. I wish those guys stop tormenting him. Why is nobody stopping them?

Someone does.

It’s her.

Tinder has this magical option where you can just unmatch a profile. You know like that cutesy dress you had wish-listed and eventually saved enough to buy but then it arrives and you realise you don’t look good in it? You can simply return it no harm done. That’s right, tinder lets you treat people like clothing items that look good in pictures but aren’t your type when they arrive. And I’m here for it.

Here I stand again, on my 34th tinder date, with the 21st person I met on the app. Just like all the other men this one too is really good looking. I mean what else can you look for while swiping anyway right? I chose the meeting spot I always do. I’m usually very nervous during these dates and being at this particular restaurant makes that a little better. I always order some wine and garlic butter shrimp, ugh they make the best shrimp. At times I enjoy the ambience and the food way more than the date itself. By this time the waitress has my order memorised.

“Hey! I’m Aarav, sorry I’m a little late. This place is cool you do have a great taste.”
“Haha.. was that compliment for me or yourself?”
“Oh no no I didn’t mean to sound like a douche, I was about to follow it up with a compliment for the playlist you sent me, I’ve been playing it on the loop.”
“I’m glad you liked it. So should we order something?”
“Yeah sure, what do you recommend?”
“Hmm.. do you like seafood?”
“Oh yeah”
“Well then sir, I know what you should get. Our speciality is garlic butter shrimp. Isn’t that what you were going to suggest ma’am?” — The waitress finished my sentence for me.
“Well yes, you know me.”

This date is going great. He is a sports teacher which explains why is he in such a great shape. He is probably the most conventionally attractive man I’ve ever gone out with. He is classy, witty and actually funny. And yet I find myself zoning out again. Why was my last date with that lawyer dude such a flop? Yeah right because garlic butter doesn’t make one any better at kissing. And the one with that engineer.. yeah he was such a sweet guy. But I don’t get attracted to sweet. That really interesting research assistant? He was so smart and so intelligent and so passionate and also such a good listener. But I don’t get attracted to smart and passionate either. But hey, it’s not always on me.. c’mon that creepy sophomore who totally lied about his age on his profile? Unmatched immediately. Every single one of them. Unmatched. I can’t lie to someone for too long and my entitled millennial ass is scared of confrontation. So what do I do? Unmatch.

This one seems to be working out though. He seems to be genuinely interested in me as well. And now we’re holding hands. Wow, this feels kinda weird, but maybe a nice weird. Nope, I spoke too soon because now he’s screaming at the waitress for accidentally spilling wine over us. And now he storms off to the restroom in fury loudly cursing the entire time while she and I clean up the mess. Dammit, I knew this. It was too good to be true. Face it, he’s a jerk. How can you be so rude to her? You almost made her cry. You ruined it Aarav. Unmatched.

Honestly, I’m done. Every single match unmatched. App uninstalled. Never doing this again. Investing my time on someone I know nothing about and who knows nothing about me? Never again.

Sooooo I have another date at my favourite restaurant. But today is different. Today my date won’t disappoint me, today I won’t disappoint my date, today my date won’t be late. My date stands there waiting for me wearing a frilled white shirt and a flared black skirt.
“Garlic butter shrimp and red wine?” She asks me. “Well yes, you know me.” I reply.

“Something deep in the human heart breaks at the thought of a life of mediocrity.” C. S. Lewis.

We often lose ourselves trying to stand out. Often lose ourselves working harder and harder everyday convincing ourselves everyday that we’re not working hard enough. Students trying to get into IITs and AIIMS, corporate employees trying to get a raise, self employed individuals trying to make it big and so on.

Baring the ones who are genuinely following their passion, what are the rest of us doing all this for? Is it because we are extremely money minded and just want to be richer no matter the cost? Is it because we want to change the world? Truthfully, it’s because we fear being ordinary, we are scared of disappointing people around us and we despise being part of the crowd.

You see, there are two ways to live your life — one is to be rational, content and find positivity no matter what and the other is to never be content and always be hungry for more- more growth, more money, bigger status and more admiration from our “inferiors”. The later gets all the attention all the credit and the former gets none.

Don’t get me wrong, I am all praises for the people who set out to achieve something big and actually manage to do so through determination, sacrifice and… (admit it) also some luck. But I am a fan of people who set conventionally small goals everyday and slay the game on a regular basis or those who achieve actual peace and happiness because of their lifestyle; not despite it.

Everyone is extraordinary at something but mostly that “something” doesn’t get recognised enough. Being able to wake up on time, clean up, eat healthy, make someone else’s day slightly better are all extraordinary tasks and deserve recognition.

Now the other reason why being ordinary shouldn’t be scary. I could be my philosophical self and get into the theory of relativity that everyone is ordinary at something and skilled at something else so technically everyone is extraordinary and everyone is a mediocre ( Try to say that in one breath 😛). But to put things in a more absolute perspective, look at it this way- the world sustains and grows because we mediocre people run it. Salil Parekh wouldn’t be the CEO of Infosys if it stops existing and that’s exactly what would happen if every Infosys employee leaves his 9–5 job and sets out to achieve the “extraordinary”. We always look at it in the manner that big people hire regular people but don’t you see it? It’s the regular people who make big people big. Beyonce wouldn’t be the queen if her fans refuse to be her fans, Barack Obama wouldn’t a leader if people refuse to follow his lead and most importantly you wouldn’t be you if not for your “inferiors”.

Let’s do this- think of something you’ve achieved that you’re really proud of- winning a competition, securing a job, organising an event — anything. The reason you’re proud of it is not just because you achieved it but also because people around you couldn’t. If everyone came first in that competition alongside you, you wouldn’t be so proud of it. This is yet another instance of that fact that you’re good at what you do, you are a pro at something because there are a lot of people out there who are worse than you. Again, it’s the ordinary people who made you extraordinary (OK fine you can take some credit).

By now, along with you, even I have started thinking that what is the point of all these musings? Am I trying to justify being ordinary since that’s all I could do instead of working hard and changing that? It’s just peace and happiness I seek and so do you ( Yeah, I can read minds fellas sign me up! ). Since most of us arguably will end up living a conventionally "average" life, wouldn’t it be practical to embrace it and be happy about it? We can be content while working hard as opposed to never be content despite working hard.

I wondered what could be the conclusion of this super random thought. I concluded that there are no conclusions. Some people would like these thoughts of mine, most wouldn’t make it to the end of this article but I hope that those who do take something from it.

Leave your thoughts below; tell me what’s your take on this. Thanks for your time ^_^ .

If you’ve ever referred to yourself as a web developer you’ve surely dealt with JavaScript. It’s like the bread and butter of every web developer. And you’ve probably encountered JS functions that look like nested functions in Java but they behave rather oddly. So I’ll be explaining the concept of callback functions in JS, drawing comparison between the functions/methods of the two languages — Java and JavaScript which have similar names but their names relate pretty much like break and breakfast.

Comparison of Java and JS methods

This is what a typical Java method looks like:-

It has an access modifier, return type and parameters with defined data types, blah blah you know the drill.

This is what a JavaScript function looks like:-

In JavaScript, a function is an object; it can be assigned to a variable, accessed like an attribute of an object by it’s id AND *drum-roll* can also be passed as an argument to another function! (We’ll talk about this shortly stay tuned).

For example:-

From this object, you can access the function named “delivery” just like you would access any other attribute of the object.

type = pizza.delivery();

This would assign the value “Takeaway” to the variable ‘type’. However if you access it without the parenthesis, it will assign the function definition to the variable:-

type = pizza.delivery;

Now type() is a JS function with the same definition as delivery().

JavaScript Callback Function

As the name suggests, a callback function gets “called back” after the execution of another function. As mentioned earlier, in JS, functions are objects and just like objects they can be passed as parameters to another function and can be returned by another function as well.

Example of a callback function in JS:-

obj.reverse( intentSuggestions, function(err, res) {
console.log(res);
});

Here the first parameter to the function “reverse” is “intentSuggestions” and the second one is (you guessed it) a callback function.

Let’s create one!

First, open up your Chrome Developer Console (Windows: Ctrl + Shift + J)(Mac: Cmd + Option + J) and type the following into your console:

function sayMyName(name, petname, callback) {
  callback();
  alert(`The name's ${name} but you can call me ${petname}`);
}

sayMyName('Joey', 'Sweetie', function() {
  alert('How you doin?');
});

The above code sends two alerts back to back ‘How you doin?’ followed by ‘The name’s Joey but you can call me Sweetie’.

The following piece of code will teach you what’s happening here better. Type the following into your console:

function caller(called) {
  called();
  alert(`This is the caller function speaking after the called function even though I was the one to call it in the first place! Damn that guy gets all the attention`);
}

caller(function() {
  alert(`This is the called function speaking and I love attention`);
});

The concept of callback function is especially vital when working with Node.js as we need a function to execute only after we have all the prerequisites. For example when you make requests to an API, you have to wait for the response before you can act on that response. So a caller function can deliver you food and the called function can take your order. You can’t get your food delivered before placing your order right?

Bonus: The Promise Function in JavaScript

While working with JavaScript and especially Node.js the callback functions get nested inside other callback functions and so on. The code may end up looking like:-

function myStatus(id, callback) {

   openDatabase(function(db) {

      getCollection(db, 'personalInfo', function(col) {

         find(col, {'id': id},function(result) {

            result.filter(function(user) {

               callback(user.status === "Pending")

            })

         })

      })

   })

}

Which essentially just returns Boolean true or false based on whether the user’s status in the database named “personalInfo” is “Pending” or not.

With JavaScript promises rather than a function accepting callback it can return a promise after which the calling function will wait until the promise (the functionality) is fulfilled and then it will fulfill its own functionality. A method named .then() will take care of invoking the method once the promise has been fulfilled.

function myStatus(id) {

   return openDatabase()

      .then(getCollection)

      .then(find.bind(null, {'id': id}))

      .then(function(user) {

          return user.status === "Pending";

     });

}

This code does the same thing and is much easier to follow. Fetching data from database, finding the column using the id and then returning the value of concerned field — these can’t be done all in once they have to be executed one after the other.

A really helpful article for more understanding of promise functions is linked here.

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If you really made it this far and feel like either you learnt or something is a bit off about this article please leave a feedback.