DreamingAway

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...

Are you one of those people who gets a little spooked by the sudden surge of swiftly moving, dark clouds? You know, the kind that turn the sky a menacing, gloomy grey? I've got friends who genuinely fear that scene. Dark skies can certainly foster feelings of melancholy and sadness, dragging your mood down into the pits of gloom. Ayam Cemani chickens - the Indonesian black chickens — are very rare. Yet they are still forced to sacrifice their lives because they are believed to hold mysterious powers to satisfy evil gods. My dad used to say that whenever a black goat, cat, dog, or hen disappeared, it was often taken for sacrifice. These rituals were thought to have the power to ward off demons. I hate that. How many more centuries will it take for us to stop such practices? From Asian and Greek mythology to African folklore, black has long been a symbol of mystery, danger, and the underworld. We often associate black with, well, a whole lot of dramatic stuff. Despite black's ele...

Love and affection are all open-air prisons here (பாசம் எல்லாம் இங்கே வெட்டவெளி சிறைகள்). How true are Palani Bharathi’s lyrics ! There is a kind of quiet captivity in caring, not because we want to escape it, but because we are never really outside it. A week ago, I was away, and my mother was looking after my dog, Hansie. I gave her all the instructions about his treats. But when she told me he had not touched anything, not even his favourites, I felt heavy-hearted. You know that feeling, if you have ever been there. The more we see, the more we agree to things that once we believed to be meaningless. Vallalar ’s famous words, “Whenever I saw a withered crop, I withered,” speak to many - some connect at a surface level, while others journey deeper to experience their true meaning. I see them sometimes, on buses or in public places. One day, he screamed loudly, apparently for no reason. Another day, she screamed loudly for the same reason. His mother got used to it. Her mother got use...