identity

Where We Stand Depends on Where We Sit

Where we stand depends on where we sit. The stances we take, the identities we shape—for ourselves and for others—are built on what sits in our minds.

And our minds? They are prime real estate. Possibly the most expensive in the world.

Thoughts are tenants. Some pay rent in clarity and purpose. Others squat in doubt and fear. But once they settle in, they shape how we see, speak, and stand.

So, let’s be careful. Choose wisely who and what gets a seat in our minds. Because what sits in us will decide what stands we take.

History, Identity, and the Borders We Don’t See

We learn from history that we don’t learn much from history. It stuck.

At the Brandenburg Gate, once a symbol of division, the past now plays dress-up. Army gear, old flags—props for tourists. For a small fee, of course.

Once, men fought and died for these symbols. Now, they’re souvenirs. Time does that—turns battlegrounds into backdrops.

It made me think. Identity is a border of its own. What defines us, also excludes.

So, what defines you? What else could you become?

And the bigger question—what borders exist in your mind that you don’t even know are there?

(at Brandenburg Gate (Potsdam)

When Cities Blur: Mumbai’s Identity Beyond the Skyline

Some cities wear their identities like a badge—loud, proud, unmistakable. Others, like Mumbai, let their identity shift, stretch, and sometimes, slip under a cloud. Quite literally.

The monsoon clouds roll in, heavy and unrelenting, swallowing the skyline, softening the sharp edges of glass and steel. The city remains, but its form blurs. For a moment, Mumbai is just a mood—grey, unpredictable, alive in its own way.

But beyond the clouds, beyond the physical skyline, lies the real Mumbai. The one that isn’t just its landmarks or its traffic-clogged veins, but its pulse—its people, its stories, its sheer resilience. The city rebuilds, reinvents, recovers—sometimes from floods, sometimes from its own exhaustion.

The Bandra-Worli Sea Link, a symbol of ambition cutting through the Arabian Sea, often vanishes into the mist. And yet, the traffic still flows, the bridges still hold. That’s Mumbai for you—moving forward even when the road ahead is unclear.

Maybe cities, like people, need their cloudy moments. To pause. To let go of rigid definitions. To rediscover what lies beneath the obvious.

Because identity isn’t just about what is seen. It’s also about what endures.

Identity. A city’s identity emerges from the people who walk the streets the buildings that line its roads and the wheels that roll on them.
Kolkata is unique, for it is defined by the yellow ‘Ambassador’ taxi. Perhaps the only city in the world that carries a brand that’s well past its prime as though it is currency fresh from the mint.
The Amby was first produced in 1959 modelled on the Morris that was then in production in the UK. Since then, it has had a continuous run with at beat a tuck there and new chip here. Truly incredible, wouldn’t you say for this longevity!
India have evolved. And so have its roads and the wheels that ply on them. The Amby giving way, with grace and elegance to the modern and the monstrous. To the fast and furious.
Kolkata, though is home for the Amby. It seems so interwoven into its existence. Often battered and bruised, but then the Amby seems to hug the minds of its residents much more than it cares to hug the roads of the city!

You can change your shirt, alter the shape of your trouser without a second thought. You could stretch your luck and change the government praying hard that it will result in change.
But to change a part of your identity, is a tad tough.
Very tough. Ask Kolkata!
#travel #traveller #instatravel #instapassport #blogger #travelblogger #blogging #travelinsights #traveladdict #traveltheworld #automobile #cars #ambasador #kolkata #bengal #India #city #roads #identity (at Kolkata, India)

A goodbye and a hello !


A certain ‘she’ wrote a seemingly simple mail sometime back. Articulate and without much extravagance, she said that she could ‘sense’ that I was an ‘interesting’ person from whatever she read, but the blog ‘looked dated’. I went over her mail a couple of times. ‘Looks dated’ appeared six times in three paragraphs.

That was setting one energetic cat amidst all the sedentary pigeons. That something needed to be done was becoming evident. Given that this ‘she’ was a regular on the blog and generally had good intentions. Plus this wasn’t exactly the first time I was hearing this. Numerous friends had mentioned it. Many times over. Yet, this time, for some unknown reason, it was action time !

Furtive thought trains lead to ideas that were vacuously vapid or those that required an extravagance of time and money. (Both of which were are in perpetual short supply). If not any of those, whatever emerged from convoluted whorls of the brain, were ‘already taken’ !

Over time, laziness set in. The blog looked the way it always looked, while several attempts at ‘good posts’ came alive as temporal eccentricities! Readers kept coming and going. Ofcourse, some of you have stayed on, which I would like to believe is a function of arrangement of words here, although, I have a lurking feeling that it perhaps a consequence of alignment of my stars.

Either way, thank you!

Many other readers left comments like ‘ I read your blog, the pictures were nice’ which said quite a heapful on the quality of the writing. But life went on. The sun rose in the East and religiously went to the west. The Chinese were conquering the world. Scandal birth rate competed with rabbits’. The milk man was regular and late. Rentals were up. Work kept me occupied. Life was normal.

It was then, that yet another ‘he’ wrote rather plainly, that no matter what I thought of myself, I was no Scott Adams. To dramatise that further, quipped that having Dilbert as a profile picture was akin to having ‘your neighbours kid as your facebook picture’. That dramatisation hit the nail far and deep, not only for the muscle to quake but also the bone to ache.


My erstwhile profile picture

The silver lining though, was that he had presented a seemingly simple solution : Just change the profile picture. ok. First step to the solution. Ok ?

Voila !

Immediately ( a.k.a few weeks) a few precocious folks that are in the know of such cerebral matters were asked. Several ideas were tossed at a speed that was impossible to catch. Many went over the head and some went overboard.

‘If your blog carries your name, your photograph must be the mascot’ insisted most of them. I had to politely explain to them that the attempt was at reader ‘excitement’ and not readership extinction.

Blessed with a plain and forgettable face, bulges in wrong areas and recessionary trends in the rest, I could make a pretty picture in an ad for ‘this man transformed himself using our product’ with a before and after picture.

To spare you a long and laborious story, a new logo was to be created. That stood for ‘Kavis Musings’. Amongst the few options that came up, the missus rooted for this.


“It represents you. Your pictures. And your writing”.

It was stated differently though. Something along the lines of ‘Somekind of a loud mouth with an air of self anointed importance, and a wide eyed grin, waxing eloquence over seminal topics of global importance, that range from the way Trash Cans are designed to spelling mistakes in hoardings’. (And so on. You get the drift. Don’t you?)

Which when politely asked to explain, was eventually translated to : “It represents you. Your pictures. And your writing”. I quite agreed.

So there. That’s my new digital identity. Hopefully, you will like it. And continue to shower your tolerance and genorisity by coming back here.

Quite obviously you will see huge hoardings in your hometown announcing the change. Incase you don’t see those hoardings, please keep looking.

Ohh! I almost forgot. That was blog post number 500.