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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 Romance of Clouds and Peaks: A Lesson in Perspective

Mountains don’t just stand—they stretch. They invite, they teach, they expand your sense of what’s possible.

When the clouds kiss the peaks, and the ground beneath hums with quiet excitement, your eyes drift—not just to the heights, but to the horizon.

And there, beyond the first set of peaks, another set awaits—wrapped in their own clouded embrace, whispering the same story.

You smile. You understand expanse. Not just of the mountains, but of perspective, possibility, and wonder.

Because some lessons can’t be taught. Only experienced.

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.

Born to Run: The Effortless Beauty of a True Runner

A runner stands apart. You don’t need to look twice. The lean muscles, the poised stance, the effortless readiness—it’s all there, waiting for the next burst of speed.

And when the open space calls, they don’t just run. They glide.

Watching a greyhound take off is pure joy. The stretch, the arc, the rhythm—it’s movement at its most natural, most beautiful.

And when the sun begins to set, framing the runner in gold, it’s more than just a sight. It’s a moment.

More Than Monuments: Washington DC’s Metro and Movement

A city is more than just its buildings and roads. It’s the character of its infrastructure and the twinkle in the eyes of those who move through it.

Washington DC stands tall. A city of power, history, and movement. But beyond the monuments and politics, it has something else—a metro that works.

At Dupont Circle Station, the sleek tunnels and quiet efficiency tell their own story. A system that keeps the city moving, connects the stories, and makes the everyday a little smoother.

Sometimes, a city’s soul isn’t just in what it stands for—but in how it moves.

Standing Under Another Flag: What Changes, What Doesn’t

The stories we tell ourselves—about who we are, about others, about the world—can feel absolute. Until we stand in another land, under another flag.

Perspective shifts. Assumptions blur. Differences exist, but so do unexpected similarities.

And then, a simple truth emerges—the skies of the world are all blue. Borders may divide, but above us, the sky has no lines.

Sometimes, all it takes to rethink the stories we hold is standing somewhere new.

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.

The Rising Sun: A Daily Reminder to Begin Again

How do you welcome a new day?

The first shimmer of sunlight is more than just a cue to wake up—it’s a hint of opportunity. A fresh invitation to:

✨ Continue the work from yesterday.
✨ Begin anew.
✨ Press reset.
✨ Walk the long road.
✨ Course correct.
✨ Sit down and reflect.

Whatever works for you.

The Sun rising in the east might feel like routine, but treating it as a gift, a reminder, a moment to pause—that changes everything.

So wherever you are, celebrate it. Sing, dance, run, read—do whatever fills you with life.

Because the majestic Sun is a daily lesson in beginnings, transitions, and showing up—no matter what.

(at Udaipur City, Rajasthan, India)

Between Shore and Open Water: The Feeling of Readiness

When the waters kiss the boat, not with tenderness but with stern energy, you feel it—the pull of the unknown.

The shore, once a quiet safety net, now feels distant. The boat wobbles, unbothered by its passengers. And deep within, a thousand butterflies take flight.

Yet, there’s something else—a rush, a charge in your veins. It’s the feeling of being young, alive, and on the edge of something new. It’s the moment when life shifts.

Your hands grip the oars, the water pushes back. You take the first stroke—and the lake seems to gird its loins in response.

A thin smile escapes furrowed brows. Because this moment? You’ve worked for it.

You’re ready for the ride.