friendship

The Quiet Ones

A couple of years ago, I was in Wayanad on a short morning hike. Pristine mountains. The kind of air that makes you feel briefly virtuous just for breathing it.

A friend was walking alongside. We were talking, as you do on such walks, about everything and nothing. I was doing what I always do in places like that: looking up. Birds, sky, the light doing interesting things through the canopy.

She was doing all of that too. Commenting on the birds, noting the trees, entirely present in the conversation. And also, without breaking stride or sentence, bending down every few minutes to pick up a stray pet bottle, a biscuit wrapper, an old phone cover abandoned on the trail like a small act of surrender. Each piece went into her bag. At the end of the walk, it all went into a bin.

No announcement. No pause for effect. Just a person who had decided, at some point, that this was simply what you did when you walked in a beautiful place.

I was, briefly, awestruck. Then mildly ashamed. Then back to looking at the birds.

Last week, a different friend told me about something she does at home. Every few months, she boxes up the plastic that has accumulated, wrappers, packaging, the soft plastic that no municipality will touch, and couriers it to EcoKaari, a Pune-based company that handweaves it into bags and wallets and things you would actually want to own.

Four times a year. A box, some tape, a courier booking.

I told a few people. The response, reliably: that’s a lot of effort.

Which is an interesting sentence. Because the effort is perhaps forty minutes. The time exists. We spend more of it each evening scrolling through things we will not remember by morning.

The issue was never time. It was importance. Microplastics are now found in human blood, in placentas, in Antarctic snow. The facts are not hidden. They are just, somehow, not quite inconvenient enough to act on.

There is a lot of talk in India about sustainable living. Reusable bags, organic produce, the correct way to feel about single-use plastic at a wedding. What there is less talk about are people like these two, who are not talking at all. They are just doing the thing, quietly, in the middle of doing everything else. No audience required.

Neither announced anything. Neither posted about it.

EcoKaari has upcycled over five million pieces of waste plastic. Every single one arrived because someone decided it was worth the bother.

Sustainable living in India, at its best, looks exactly like this. Unhurried. Unannounced. And entirely without applause.

By the way, this is not a sponsored or paid post. No one asked for it. These are personal observations about people I admire, written on a Saturday morning, thinking about better living.

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There is a longer argument about why we do not make time for things that matter. It starts here: Are You Happy Yet?

Orchestrated Moments: When Connection Breaks Through

Another morning. Another airport.

What seemed like a car was just an assortment of lights, choreographed to perfection. Orchestration rules the world now. Every movement, every detail, neatly arranged.

Amidst the glitz and precision, an old friend appears, catching me by surprise. “You haven’t changed one bit,” they say.

“I’m glad you looked,” I reply.

A moment. A hug. A smile.

Orchestration may dominate our world, but moments like these remind us there’s something it can’t choreograph—genuine connections.

And for that, I’m grateful.

(at Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport)

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.

After much is said and more is done, you hear an anecdote from the past. Fresh and sprightly.

That’s when it strikes you that even much is said and done, more remains unsaid. Tiny moments wrapped in raw emotion that will tower memory stacks. Ready to light up a dull day.

Even after people are gone, they stay. It is a story of how they loved and lived.

(at Powai)