DreamingAway

I visited my uncle’s house early last month. It had been more than two decades since I had last been there. Back then, it was nearly a kilometre’s walk from the main road. I wanted to retrace the steps of my boyhood, but the area had changed beyond recognition. I found myself mentally comparing the old map I carried in my memory with the reality before me. Even so, I pressed on, trusting my instincts to guide me. I managed to get close by asking for directions to the local temple and the lake, but eventually I got lost. In the end, I needed my cousin’s help. I was only two short streets away from his house. Whether I visited my cousin’s house or he came to mine, we would spend almost every weekend together. His village was beautiful, with lush paddy fields stretching along the lakeside. It was the first place I had ever seen handloom weaving up close. In fact, on almost every street one could see the traditional practice of street sizing . During those visits, we would play cricket, ca...

Most tasks are judged not by the effort invested, but by the outcome they produce. Yet, when we perform a task ourselves, our own effort is highly visible. We remember the time spent, the decisions made, and the obstacles overcome. Because we experience this effort directly, it is easy to mistake effort for completion. This tendency to evaluate our work by how much we did, rather than whether the intended outcome was achieved, is a common trap.   There are trees near my house, and their leaves constantly fall onto the terrace. My daily task is to sweep the terrace and place the leaves in a bin to keep the area clean. There are many ways to approach this, but consider two scenarios where this simple task can go wrong.   The Leaf Pile (Under-Delivery) My action: I sweep the terrace cleanly but leave the leaves in a neat pile in the corner, intending to bin them later.
My perspective: I feel as though I have done a great job; after all, sweeping is 99% of the heavy lifting, and b...

I recently watched the Telugu film Patang . It tells the story of two friends who form rival teams to settle a score through a kite duel. One team knows nothing about kite flying, which leads to several humorous scenes as they struggle to learn the craft. Those scenes felt deeply relatable. I flew kites during my school days and, like most of my “firsts”, the learning process was a comedy of errors. I remember trying to jam a chess pawn into the base of a piece because my cousin told me the newly bought set was “too small”. My first attempts at kite flying were much the same: I would simply grab the thread and run, hoping the kite would follow. Like a playful puppy, the kite had a mind of its own — nosediving, veering off course, or simply snapping the thread and escaping. My neighbours, who were quite skilled, eventually taught me the basics. Soon, I could fly a kite with ease. I even learned to make simple ones using nothing but old newspapers and broomsticks. Since our gate opened d...

Nails Everywhere: Whenever I walk around campus with my colleagues, I sometimes pick a colour and say, “That colour is everywhere today.” It usually annoys them. They start pointing out all the other shades I am ignoring — and they are mostly right. But that is exactly the point. Your focus shapes your reality. Give your mind a frame, and it will fill the world to match it. When you hold a hammer, suddenly you see nails everywhere. You start living in a world made almost entirely of them. Slow Recovery: In sports, ligament and tendon injuries are notoriously slow to heal. They do not receive a constant flood of repair materials through the bloodstream. There is no quick fix, no overnight turnaround. Healing is not just about closing damage — it is about careful, internal realignment. You cannot yell at a ligament to knit itself back together faster. It happens on its own timeline.  — — — Life has a way of testing every part of you at once — your family, your work, your sense of sel...

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...