Tid Bit from My Diary

  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...