Tid Bit from My Diary

  Clint Eastwood once remarked: “Don’t look for luxury in watches or bracelets. Don’t look for luxury in villas or sailboats. Luxury is laughter and friends. Luxury is rain on your face. Luxury is hugs and kisses. Luxury is being loved by people. Luxury is being respected. Luxury is what money can’t buy.” His words cut through the glitter of modern consumerism, reminding us that the richest treasures in life are rarely found in shop windows. Real luxury is intangible — moments, relationships, and feelings that can’t be purchased, yet enrich us immeasurably. But there’s another layer to what we call “luxury.” Take mechanical watches, for example. Their craftsmanship is exquisite, their presence timeless. Yet, keeping them alive is a ritual — winding, setting, maintaining, and wearing them regularly. If you own more than one, the routine multiplies. Their beauty depends on your attention. Yes, you can buy an automatic winding case, but that almost defeats the purpose — the connection...

  When I published the previous post on why we need meditation, I didn’t imagine life would underline it so poignantly so soon. Just a few days later, we lost a dear friend — someone who epitomised life, laughter, and warmth. Now, meditation feels even more urgent — not as a philosophy, but as a lifeline. It has calmed my mind for years, but now it feels like a calling — to share, to remind others that peace of mind is no longer a luxury; it’s survival. Contrary to what many believe, meditation is not religion, and it is not complicated. Despite its Indian origin, I learned it from a Turkish colleague — sitting quietly in my parked car. She shared what she had learned from an Indian guru: the simple art of following the breath. That’s how meditation truly spreads — one calm soul passing the flame of awareness to another. In the early days, meditation can feel confusing.  What am I doing?  or even  Am I doing anything at all? Well, that’s the precise point — not to do...

  Photo by Felipe Borges: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-meditating-on-rock-2597205/ My heart cries every other day when I read about young people collapsing in the gym, in the office, or taking their own lives — unable to cope with the pressure. That is when we see the need to wonder: How do some people remain calm and composed? How do they keep their focus when everything around them feels chaotic? How do they manage to stay present while so many others sink into the past or drift toward the future? We spend our waking hours juggling thoughts, deadlines, and notifications. Our minds run faster than our bodies ever could. Even in moments of rest, our thoughts rarely stop spinning — replaying the past or rehearsing the future. It’s no wonder so many of us feel restless, distracted, and unable to truly live in the moment. There are many reasons for this modern unease, and some are more severe than others. First,  information overload  — we consume more in a day than o...

  I can’t quite remember where I first came across it — perhaps while aimlessly browsing one quiet evening — but it struck me as something unconventionally romantic. It was a website, now sadly inactive, called Croisé dans le métro — “crossed in the metro.” The idea was simple, yet deeply human. Strangers who met eyes, smiled briefly, exchanged glances, or shared a few silent moments on the Paris Metro could later leave a message online — a note of recognition, curiosity, or affection, perhaps even an invitation to connect — for the person they couldn’t gather the courage to speak to. It took me back to my own youth, to my days in Delhi, commuting as a student and later to work. Back then, the city didn’t have a metro, but the public transport — the chartered buses — carried a world within them: students, clerks, dreamers, and strangers from every corner of India. Some faces became familiar over time — the girl who always sat near the window, the lady who read a novel, the man los...

  Photo credit Lurii Lvashchenko @ pexels In June 2005, in the highlands of southwestern Ethiopia, a twelve-year-old girl was walking home from school when her world changed. A group of men seized her—intent on forcing her into marriage, a practice that still lingered in parts of the countryside. They took her deep into the forest and held her there, her cries lost among the trees. Somewhere nearby, three lions heard those cries. Perhaps they mistook the sound for that of a cub in distress. Perhaps it stirred something instinctive—protective—in their wild hearts. Whatever the reason, the lions appeared, roaring through the clearing. The men fled, terrified. Then, something even more astonishing happened. The lions did not harm the girl. They stood around her, silent and watchful, keeping guard for hours until police and villagers arrived. Only then did they slip back into the wilderness, their vigil complete. Was it pure chance that the lions came? Or was it the Universe answering ...

A friend once said he was stepping out to buy a pair of ink cartridges for his fountain pen. His wife looked at him, amused, and said, “Why don’t you just order a dozen online and keep them in your drawer? It’ll be cheaper, quicker, and hassle-free.” He smiled, pretended not to hear her, and went out anyway. Because it wasn’t really about the cartridges. It was about the quiet joy of stepping out — seeing people, exchanging smiles, hearing the city hum. On his little errand, he met a few friendly faces, waved at a passing school van, admired a couple of cute babies, and even asked a stranger what the name of the lovely brown Shih Tzu she had. By the time he came home, he had his pen refills — and a handful of tiny, human moments that made his day richer than any online order ever could. There’s a quiet moral there: we’re not just here to tick boxes and get things done. We’re here to wander a little — to move, to notice, to connect. Sure, technology makes life easier. You can have a do...

  Photo Credit: #ReadReflectRejoice I went to the bank yesterday, and the staff was very helpful in guiding me on what to do and how to do it. He made the necessary copies of my ID and passport, took my signature, and directed me to wait for my turn to meet the officer who would complete the process. So, I waited there with the ticket from the calling system in my hand. However, there was a small problem — both the display screen and the announcements were in Arabic, a language I don’t understand. I looked around for any sign of another display that would post the token numbers in English, but there was none. As I stood there unsure of what to do next, a young man noticed my confusion. Without me even asking, he kindly offered to help and asked me to wait near him so he could alert me when it was my turn. True to his word, he did just that. I met the officer, and my task was completed smoothly — all’s well that ends well, as they say. Walking out of the bank, I couldn’t help but fe...

Photo credit: pixabay@pexels Have you ever come across the acronym LIP ? If not, keep reading—I’d love to introduce you to this beautiful concept. As I take a bird’s-eye view of the world, a strange pattern emerges—one that leaves me wondering: When are we humans, as a species and a society, going to grow up? You often see an outpouring of grief when someone passes away—social media flooded with RIP messages, heartfelt tributes, and stories of how they touched lives. These messages may comfort grieving relatives and those left behind, but the person they are meant for is no longer here to read them. Ever wonder where all this warmth was when they were alive? As we moved from close-knit families to isolated satellite units, our community bonds weakened. Once, we knew our neighbours, shared joys and struggles, and looked out for one another. Today, we barely know who lives next door, let alone what they believe or battle in silence. Human connection, once instinctive, now feels like an...

  Image: Lukas@pexels Nancy Stephan wrote in her memoir, “ There are things that we don’t want to happen but have to accept, things we don’t want to know but have to learn, people we can’t live without but have to let go.” This powerful truth resonates deeply, touching each of us at different points in life. While we may grasp it intellectually, experiencing it firsthand is an entirely different matter. There is always a gap between knowing and truly internalizing. As the Bard put it, if practice were as easy as knowing what to do, then “chapels would be churches and poor men’s houses, princes' palaces.” The real struggle lies not in understanding life’s truths but in learning to live with them. Hardship, loss, and unfulfilled expectations can leave us questioning everything. Why this? Why now? Why me? We search for answers, sometimes directing our frustration at a higher power, other times merely shouting into the void. But questioning, while natural, seldom brings resolution....

Photo by Victor Freitas @pexels Most of us couldn’t have foreseen the life we’re living today when we were kids. We envisioned ourselves as astronauts, artists, explorers, or inventors, blissfully unaware of the twists and turns life would inevitably take. As we grew, those dreams began to shift, adapting to the opportunities we encountered and the talents we discovered within ourselves. But dreams alone weren’t enough. Our journey depended on our willingness to seize those opportunities, take risks, and navigate setbacks—sometimes with courage, sometimes with doubt, but always with the hope of creating something meaningful. “Life has never been a fixed blueprint handed to us; it’s an ever-evolving canvas, as unique as the fingerprints of the person creating it.” As Sir Ken put it, what makes life extraordinary is its threefold nature: it is deeply personal, brimming with creative potential, and inherently organic. We often begin with a general sense of direction, shaped by family, soc...

  Photo credit: 3ReadReflectRejoice I recently took a nostalgic dive into my blog archives, revisiting posts I'd written as far back as 2008. In those early, more prolific days, I was fortunate to cultivate a loyal readership. We formed a close-knit community, eagerly anticipating each other’s posts and sharing glimpses of our lives. Occasionally, others with a more transactional “you scratch my back, I scratch yours” mindset would join in, and we’d reciprocate. But neither of these interactions ever propelled our posts beyond a niche audience—virality, after all, is the domain of algorithms . As I pondered the evolution of content creation, an incident from April 2018 came to mind—a tragic shooting at YouTube’s headquarters in San Bruno, California . The perpetrator, an aggrieved content creator, believed that YouTube’s algorithms were unfairly suppressing her work. While her actions were indefensible, her frustrations echoed a sentiment many creators have felt: the struggle aga...

  Photo Credit: #ReadReflectRejoice Some people savor what they do, finding joy in each task. Others endure their work, living for the weekend. It’s easy to get stuck in a cycle, trapped by the gravitational pull of present circumstances. But as AA Milne so beautifully phrased it through Winnie the Pooh: “I always get to where I’m going by walking away from where I’ve been.” In 2024, I stumbled upon a new word: Passionpreneur. What’s a passionpreneur, you ask? The dictionary defines it as someone who discovers their passion, transforms it into a profitable business, and in doing so, positively impacts others' lives. Inspiring, isn’t it? Yet, embarking on such a journey isn’t always simple. Like a spacecraft breaking free from Earth’s gravity, stepping into a new realm requires its own form of escape velocity . This metaphorical velocity propels us away from unhappiness, self-doubt, and the fear of the unknown. So, how does one generate this escape velocity? Experts suggest a combin...