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Before You Sail, Build the Boat and the Vision

Boats at shore always seem out of place. They aren’t built to sit still—they belong to the waves, the winds, the unknown.

Watching them, ready and restless, just beside the sea, you can almost feel it—the pull of adventure, the promise of distance.

But every long voyage is actually two voyages. The first happens in the mind—where dreams set sail long before the hull touches water. The second, on land—where boats are built strong, crafted well, ready to endure what lies ahead.

Because when the mind doesn’t imagine wide enough, or the boat isn’t built strong enough, voyages don’t happen the way they should.

So, what voyages are you on?
How far have you traveled in your mind?
And most importantly—how strong is your boat?

Borrowed Wheels, Big Dreams: A Reflection from Delhi’s Roads

Where you stand depends on where you sit. And where you sit? That depends on how much of a foothold you have in the world.

In many places, life isn’t about luxury or choice—it’s about making the most of what’s available. It’s about hanging on, navigating bridges with borrowed wheels, hoping for the best, and moving forward anyway.

But let’s be clear—this does not mean fewer aspirations.
This does not mean fewer dreams of change.
This does not mean fewer smiles, joys, or moments of triumph.

For many, life is neither happiness nor sadness—it simply is. And there’s a quiet resilience in that truth.

Cotton, Clips, and Colours: A Lesson in Childlike Creativity

Swabs of cotton, clothesline clips, and a splash of colours. In the hands of kids, that’s all it took for magic to unfold.

No TVs, no tablets, no digital distractions—just pure imagination at play. The kind that turns ordinary objects into extraordinary stories. The kind that reminds us that creativity doesn’t need a screen, just space to roam free.

All it takes is a little belief—in kids, in their boundless curiosity, in their ability to turn the simplest things into something wonderful.

Yes, magic. That’s the word. And kids own it.

(at Bangkok, Thailand)

A Picture, An Anklet, and the Sounds of Yesterday

Some pictures don’t just capture a moment—they bring back a world.

There was a time when our home echoed with the soft chime of an anklet. The little miss loved it, and so did we. It was more than an ornament; it was our personal GPS—a subtle tracker of her movements, her mischief, her presence.

And then, time did what it always does.

I don’t even know where the anklet is now. But this picture? It took me straight back. To a time when tiny feet ran around, when silence was more alarming than noise, when aspirations and dreams had a different shape, a different urgency.

Some pictures do that—they remind you, they whisper, they nudge.

And for a brief moment, you’re not just looking at the past. You’re feeling it.