DreamingAway

We stopped for tea a couple of hours into the drive. Before I could ask, my teammate ordered for his father — less sugar, extra strong, just the way he likes it. He didn’t ask; he just knew. Last week, I travelled about 500 kilometres to attend a colleague’s wedding. I was in the car with my teammate and his 75-year-old father, on a familiar kind of trip. We left in the morning, took a couple of breaks along the way, reached by evening, attended the reception, and returned the next day after the early morning wedding. It was routine and comfortable. But somewhere along the drive, I found myself noticing something I hadn’t expected — the nature of their relationship. During our conversations, his father joined in with ease on topics ranging from cinema to politics to technology. His father wasn’t just listening; he was fully part of it. It was a clear indication that they had these discussions at home regularly and in depth. The same ease showed up in smaller moments too — adjusting the...

 From divine tales to epic sagas to the timeless pages of literature, they are all paved with love stories that anchor themselves in your memory. They happen even now, quietly, somewhere around you. Are they rare? Of course. Are they ordinary? Certainly not. Now, take away the villains, the tragedies, the grand betrayals — the list shrinks. The truth is that love without a villain rarely makes headlines, yet its quiet power is no less profound. And it remains just as rare. Do you need love like that? Or is it merely a superficial pursuit? After all, not everyone sets out to become a billionaire; perhaps you don’t seek the “epic” either. There is no denying that love is God’s magic, and making your love divine is your magic. I am somehow hooked on the concept that God does everything, and yet, somewhere, somehow, I must play my part on His behalf. So how do you make your love divine — or at least a worthy anchor in your life? It isn’t impossible. But if you are searching for “Step 1...

I’m reflecting on a year that felt like my own personal pendulum — swinging between quiet frustrations and small triumphs. No dramatic reinvention here; just a steady pull toward better health, sharper focus, and stories that stuck with me. Let’s break it down.   Health: For three years now, my weight has been a source of quiet frustration. It is dipping a few kilos in hopeful bursts before creeping back up, eventually settling into a gain. My target? A modest “sweet spot”: 5kg lighter than today. I promise, my goal isn’t fueled by a mid-30s crisis, but by a genuine desire to prioritize my health. On the bright side, my strength training is evolving. After the (10+10)kg chest press and (10+10)kg squat last year, I’m setting my sights on the deadlift again, targeting a 20kg milestone. And sleep? sleep cannot be managed by an alarm clock alone. My new philosophy? I’ll sleep less if I must, but never more than 450 minutes.   Media:(Maybe Too Much? but not unusual) From the emotio...

 Is there anyone who doesn’t love the sunrise?  Between the night and the day, there is this transformational moment. The whole sky transforms. A quiet shift. Colours spread slowly, light pours in. If you are there—truly there—not with your mind chattering, but simply witnessing, you will be pulled into it. This divine dance is one of the beautiful transformational moments in the sky. You know this if you have ever been swimming. You cannot just jump into the water and become a swimmer. You flounder at first, use floats, coaches, techniques—all crutches. And then, suddenly, one moment arrives. There is that transformation. Your first real swim. The body defies gravity; the mind forgets fear. You are in a dance with the water—an overcoming of something unknown. A tremendous ease arises. Between night and day. Between learner and swimmer. Between chrysalis and butterfly. There exists a short moment—the in-between. The transformational moment, that is the elixir of this life, you...

 Is killing part of my nature? All humans inherit biological tendencies towards aggression. Perhaps that’s why, under the right circumstances, I too could attempt to kill someone. But thankfully, we live in an era where our aggression has, to a great extent, been restrained. So, I don’t just go out and kill; I might never even get the chance to kill someone in my lifetime. Does this “restraint” make me a moral person, someone who opposes killing? I want to say no. It feels like a mere facade. How else do I explain myself protesting for trees and animals while silently ignoring the hundreds of thousands killed in wars or everyday killings for “traditional” causes like power, lust, and greed? I am, of course, one among billions who stay silent where our voices can make a difference. It seems to me that as a crowd—this collective of individuals, we are good at killing. And we can do it willingly, even happily, as long as there is a cause to hide behind. Lately, I have been reading new...

Though my understanding of God doesn’t allow me to say that He can make mistakes, I still catch myself wondering, more often than I’d admit, whether certain things look suspiciously like divine oversights. One of these is this deep, stubborn human need for intimate relationships, especially with the other gender (yes, Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus still feels painfully accurate). And then we extend this need even further and call it marriage. Of course, there are exceptions. Let’s not go into those here. People keep asking: “What are the fundamental requirements for a long-term relationship?” The truth is very clear: you can’t plan and use some magic formula. Nobody has ever found one that actually works. Life refuses to be controlled. A pet, a new neighbour, a surprise visit from a relative—just one single thing from the infinite supply of trivial things can turn everything upside down in a moment. Even if you write the perfect checklist—love, respect, compatibility, kids, f...