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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.

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.

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.