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Where Does the Sea Begin? A Child’s Questions at Marine Drive

We sit by the sea, watching its endless waves. She sits beside me, tossing questions like pebbles into the water.

“Where does the sea begin and where does it end?”
“Can we build a new sea?”
“If we can’t build a new sea, then we must take care of this one, right?”

I nod. She’s here for answers. I came here for the breeze. But she’s stirring up a storm.

Somewhere, I hope the right men and women are listening. Because the sea has no voice—except for those who ask the right questions.

 (at Marine Drive Mumbai)

A Giant Bull, Its Mighty Horns, and a Fleeting Moment of Peace

A bunch of flies. That’s all it took to disturb the giant. They buzzed, hovered, and annoyed. The tail swung in swift, practiced arcs. The head shook—first a twitch, then a full-bodied fury, horns slicing the air like exclamation marks of irritation.

And then, as suddenly as it began, stillness.

The bull reclaimed his calm, standing his ground like a seasoned warrior who knows battles are won by patience, not panic. His horns, curved and mighty, framed the world anew—turning the ordinary road into a scene from an old, untold legend.

For a brief moment, everything aligned. The dust hung in the air, the flies retreated, and the great beast stood unchallenged, his silence louder than any movement.

Somewhere, another fly plotted. Somewhere, another swish of the tail would follow.

But for now, peace.

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Good Work Solves Today. Great Work Lasts for Generations.

What are you working on? And how are you working on whatever you are working on?

The Albert Victor Bridge in Madurai was built in 1886 and was supposed to last a 100 years! It’s still standing. Being of value and use to the day. Long after the engineers went back and the river ran dry.

Good work solves problems. Great work solves problems, through time as well. The option to do both exists all the time. The choices are ours to make.

(at Madurai, India)

A Bird in Hand—And the Joy of Watching It Appear

They say a bird in hand is worth two in the bush. But what about a bird drawn on a hand?

For a child, it’s magic. A few careful strokes, a little waiting, and suddenly, a bird appears—etched in Mehendi, alive in her imagination. The flutter in her eyes, the quiet twitch at the corner of her mouth—it’s a joy no real bird could match.

It’s not the big toys that bring the deepest happiness. Sure, they shine. But the small moments, the ones spent laughing, waiting, watching something take shape—those stay green in the mind.

Because joy isn’t just in what we hold. It’s in what we create.

The Roads That Were Never Roads: Lessons from Madurai’s Village Temple

The gates open to a quiet courtyard, framed by four pillars. Step past them, and a ruffled mud road meanders ahead, leading into the lake, beyond which stand great trees. Keep walking, and the rolling hills stretch out, pristine and endless.

The village temple marks time through its many celebrations, but for a city dweller standing here, the past whispers through the landscape. The roads his parents walked suddenly feel clearer—long roads that were never roads at all.

Their journeys began not by asking “Is there a road?” but by stepping forward anyway. Their dreams were never limited by paths already drawn. They made their roads.

Perhaps that is the lesson these great doors hold—step through, look ahead, and go.

The Midnight Ride That Still Captures Imagination

Some people live a life that goes beyond their own lifespan and extend to generations. Paul Revere’s was one such. Imagine a life story from the 17th century that still captures attention laced with reverence.

Paul Revere was a successful silversmith who played a defining role in the American Independence struggle. A role that centred around devising a system that alerted and kept a watch on the British army. His heroics mounted a fame horse and rode away to glory, when Henry Longfellow wrote a poem called “Paul Revere’s ride”.

He wrote

“Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year”

I stood along with a set of curious folks who had got to the Granary Burial Ground in Boston. To look him up after reading his exploits the previous day.

For a gent who was born in 1734, that is some recognition, isnt it?

(at Granary Burial Grounds- Boston, Ma)

The Chase for the Sky: Reflections in Glass and Ambition

The searing rush to the top—mirrored perfectly by the dark glass façade that reflects everything but reveals nothing.

Standing on the street below, neck craned, you can’t help but admit—it’s beautiful. Not in a warm, familiar way, but in a way that speaks of ambition, precision, and power.

The light dances, the shadows shift, and the building transforms with every passing cloud.

The interplay of light and dark always has this effect. It hides, reveals, and reminds—that beauty isn’t just in what you see, but in what you perceive.

It’s Not About the Weight—It’s About How We Carry It

It’s not always about how heavy the weight is—but how we carry it.

At Juhu Beach, fishermen share the load, shifting their gear between shoulders, distributing effort. What looks like routine is really a lesson in resilience—burdens are lighter when carried together.

Life isn’t any different. A listening ear, a helping hand, a quiet presence—sometimes, that’s all it takes to ease someone’s load.

So this week, who are you lending a shoulder to? It might make all the difference. Because we never really know what someone else is carrying.

How Our Frames Shape the World: A Reflection at Qutb Minar

Our differences don’t always come from what we see—but how we see. The frames we wear shape our world, defining what we notice, what we dismiss, and what we assume.

Two people can stand before the same gate, one seeing strength, the other seeing constraint. One sees history, the other sees ruins. The object remains the same, yet the stories change.

And as the world hurtles from problem to problem, maybe it’s time to pause. To ask, “What’s making me think this way?”

Sometimes, the biggest shifts happen not outside, but within.

Do You Just Land, or Do You Really Fly?

Noticing Life, Not Just Passing Through

Do you just take off and land—or do you truly fly?

Do you just pass by flowers—or have you paused to see them in full bloom?

Do you notice the things you see—and more importantly, the things you don’t?

Because in the end, it’s not about the flowers, the flight, or the view. It’s about what’s inside you. That restless, beating thing called life.

And life isn’t in the rush. It’s in the noticing.