The trouble begins when we assume that being visible is the same as being valuable. But life, like a well-run play, needs both the stage and the backstage, both the voice and the silence.
Some roles demand the mic. Others work the lights. Some take the step forward. Others make sure there is a step to take.
The best teams don’t just celebrate the stars. They celebrate the system. Because in the end, what matters is not who stands where—but whether the whole thing stands strong.
Hyderabad doesn’t try too hard. Old and new exist without fuss. Charminar and Cyber Towers. Bazaars and glass buildings.
People are warm, witty, and fluent in many worlds. A chai can spark an hour-long debate—about the past, the present, the US, or Tirupati.
The food? Yes, the biryani is legendary. But also kebabs, the softest osmania biscuits, and some delightfully spicy vegetarian preparations.
The city stays clean. Surprises with green spaces. KBR Park for morning walks. Durgam Cheruvu for sunsets.
There is history in its bones and tech in its DNA.
Hyderabad is where opposites don’t just coexist—they complete each other. It doesn’t force harmony. It just moves, breathes, and thrives. A quiet example for the rest. Not just as a city to live in, but as a way to live.
I have seen flowers come in stormy places And kind things done by men with ugly faces, And the gold cup win by the worst horse at the races So I trust, too. – John Masefield.
Life is messy, unpredictable, and occasionally brilliant. Stormy places can grow flowers. Horses you’d bet against can take home the gold. The world isn’t always what it seems, and that’s precisely why it’s worth sticking around.
How you see it, though, depends a lot on where you stand. The lenses you wear—shaped by your past, your scars, and your hopes—colour everything. Storms might look like chaos to one person and necessary rain to another. The trick isn’t to pretend you’re lens-free but to recognise the tint. To pause and ask, “Is this how things are, or just how I see them?”
And then, there’s trust. Not the kind you offer blindly, but the kind you live with—a quiet understanding that life, for all its storms, has a way of working things out. Trust is sitting with uncertainty, even when it’s uncomfortable. It’s knowing that flowers can grow through cracks and that a “no-hope” horse might just surprise you.
Hope isn’t naïve. It’s stubborn. It keeps you showing up, even when the odds don’t look great. It reminds you that the scars you carry aren’t just wounds—they’re proof you’ve lived through storms before.
That’s my note to myself. For today.
Stay alive to the oddities.
Be present to what’s in front of you, even if it doesn’t fit your map.
Trust that the story is unfolding as it should.
And keep an eye out for flowers. They show up in the strangest places.
The word republic comes from Latin—res publica, meaning “public affair.” A system where the power belongs to the people. Sounds grand, doesn’t it?
America kicked off the modern republic idea with its Constitution in 1787. But here’s a thought: a republic isn’t a gift. It’s like a group project. And the grade depends on everyone showing up.
What does it mean to belong to a republic? Is it about flags and songs once a year? Or is it about the everyday stuff—doing my bit, following rules, enduring the messy compromises that make things better for all? ALL.
It’s time to talk about it. To ask what we owe this public affair. Because a republic works only when the public does.
I look out of the window, having taken a pause today.
The road winds on, quietly and without pause. Life isn’t a straight highway; it’s a tangle of detours, pit stops, and serendipitous turns. At each bend, someone appears.
Some walk with you for a few meters, sharing a word or a smile before drifting away. Others stay for a few kilometers, steady companions on a shared path. And a rare few walk into the horizon with you, step by step, for a lifetime.
Sometimes, they chatter incessantly, filling the journey with laughter and stories. At other times, they walk in solemn silence, their presence speaking louder than words. And their silence, a quiet reassurance that they are with you.
The rhythm of life often finds itself somewhere in between—a blend of conversation, reflection, connection and the unspoken comfort of simply being.
The journey offers all kinds of moments: the rough seas that test your strength and the islands of calm that invite you to pause. The smile of a stranger, the nod of acknowledgment from a fellow runner, and the extended arm of an unknown helper—each adding a quiet beauty to the winding road.
Through it all, Sempur Gratus—Latin for “ever grateful”—is a gentle reminder. Grateful for the people who stayed, those who passed through, and the moments that made it all meaningful. For the chatter, the silence, and the steady companionship of life’s rhythm.
Life isn’t about grand gestures or monumental events. It’s about these small, imperfect moments that string together to create something extraordinary.
Sempur Gratus. Ever grateful. For the road, the companions, and the story that continues to unfold, one moment at a time.
Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.
– By Emily Dickinson
Hope is like a quiet companion, always there when you need it most. It doesn’t shout or demand attention, but it has a way of showing up in the darkest moments, whispering that things can get better.
Dead inside. Numb. Frozen. Beaten. And yet, alive—because of a tiny trickle of hope. It’s not loud or grand, but it’s enough. Enough to keep going, to take one more step, even when the road ahead seems not just endless, but stripped of purpose and meaning.
If we are blessed enough, we can access hope. If it feels out of reach as it can sometimes, hopefully, there will be a hope to find hope.
Hope isn’t loud or flashy, but it’s stubborn and steady. It lingers through monsoon downpours, scorching heat, and bone-chilling cold, offering a quiet push to hold on. To whatever.
The most versatile of it all is the drum. The best gets you to move. And move you do. When you are tired, you look around and see them dance. And then you know you have been out of action here for a while! That is the Chithirai Festival for you.
Small bags. Turmeric. Bangles. All add a dynamic glitter to the morning breeze as they welcome the sun. These are tied with a wish in the heart and a prayer in the lips! ..
The simplest foods change the mood inside the mind. Bring alive memories. And sometimes make you long to come back for good. The food pipe is the best route on the map of life! ..
When dint of effort supercedes current reality, the picture is not often that of suffering but of progress. ..
Life, when seen through this prism has lesser suffering and revesls the tremendous capacities in man to survive, and overcome. ..
Handcrafted is a label to suit the sophisticated. But thats everyday life as well.