Posted on by nikita

Your intention matters. Does it? 

serene beach sunset in huarmey peru

Intentional living. A concept gaining momentum in our fast-paced lives. And rightfully so.

To the uninitiated, Intentional Living, according to the easily approachable baba Google, is about identifying your core values and actively designing your daily life—your time, energy, and resources—to align with those beliefs. It is the practice of moving off “autopilot” and making deliberate choices about who you want to be and how you want to spend your life. 

Since one of my life goals is to live healthily, I’ve been trying to practise this concept so passionately that while eating food, I make a conscious attempt to ensure that each of the misaligned teeth in my jaw gets to chew every morsel I eat. Only then do I allow it to enter my belly. In doing so, sometimes I tire my family that waits for me to finish my meals, so they can quickly move on with their lives. 

Mind you, water also receives a similar treatment. I make sure that the water I sip after food visits every corner of my small mouth, dislodging the debris along my gums and crevices. Only then is it allowed to mix with the food in the belly.

Following Maddy’s (R. Madhavan’s) advice on wellness and health, I drink my food and chew my water.

But even today, when I wear my pair of Kolhapuri chappals, I still can’t digest the fact that the modest, traditional Indian chappals, generally priced between ₹500-₹1,500, were displayed as leather sandals, at around ₹84,000 to ₹1.2 lakh, in the 2025 Milan menswear show by the Italian luxury fashion brand Prada. And the devil wore Kolhapuri without even acknowledging the Indian artisans who are the original creators.

Those in the leadership position should have at least thought through their intentions before designing a sheer fashion heist. Such a cultural appropriation cannot be as discreet and simple as making haldi dudh turmeric latte.  

Inspired by our PM’s aggressive warning, ‘ghar mein ghus kar maarenge’, the nationalists hit Prada left, right, and center through social media trolls. Eventually, the brand made a conscious effort to ethically collaborate with artisans from Maharashtra and Karnataka, thereby expanding India’s reach to global luxury markets.

Markets remind me of the economic inflation driven by global markets, and the PM’s appeal to the nation to practice austerity. Following his example, after some reflection, I decided to reduce the number of vehicles I use from one to zero. On some days, irrespective of an odd-or-even-number date, I walk down the streets to buy (hopefully) unadulterated milk and paneer, watermelons and mangoes that aren’t injected with any toxic chemicals or sweeteners, and vegetables whose price rises like the summer temperature in the city. 

While the heat of the sun is exhausting, equally draining would have been the news of the cancellation of the NEET-UG 2026 exam for aspiring doctors due to the choices of a few corrupt people in the system. Devdutt Pattanaik, the Indian mythologist and author of Escape The Bakasura Trap and many other books, would call these people Bakasura, trapped in the cycle of insatiable hunger—hunger for money? Power?  

Would a timely reflection before leaking the question papers have saved many futures?

That’s the question they should be pondering behind bars. Of course, if they are made to stay there for long.

But for me, nowadays, the question to mull over is: Should I chew hafooz or drink hafooz? 

*****

Me: Can I ask you a question?
Friend: Introspective? Umm … Leave it.

Posted on by nikita

Ye tera ghar ye mera ghar …

view of hillside buildings in shimla

One … two … three … four … the number reached almost twenty-five — almost twenty-five iron nails, used in construction. The nails I was busy picking up with a fridge magnet tied by a fragile sewing thread to one end of a rod. Given the size of my hands — jo kanoon ke haath jitne lambe nahi hain — it was difficult to grab them by bending over the washing area parapet. 

Lo and behold! There weren’t just nails. At the far end, there was a well-woven pacca house, constructed with pieces of rusty binding wire. I didn’t even get a whiff of this plan. It was built right under my nose, under the AC unit. No loose threads, no twigs, no leaves. Nothing. A sheer example of Vikshit Bharat. 

Apparently, without my knowledge, the grey-winged couple, who kept flying around the parapet, possibly scanning the place, finalized one of the chhajjas of my rented flat to build their nest. Lucky them! Neither do they need any legal papers nor any paper money to officiate over any territory, unlike many of us, who spend most of our lives saving money to buy a ghar that could be called mera. 

Like a gardener checking for weeds, the pigeons identified a seemingly safe spot and unanimously decided to lay the foundation of their sweet home. While they had already hammered the nail without much ado, I frantically kept trying to shoo them away by throwing water, only to fail. To my soft ears, their constant gutargoo began to sound like that duet song by Jagjit Singh and Chitra, Ye tera ghar ye mera ghar … 

The nest is not a problem; it is the squalor and the stench that accompany it. 

Every time I tried to dismantle the wires and nails with the same rod, these winged animals would work with more perseverance to assemble them. It seemed that every other day, we were testing each other’s patience and will. Neither of us was ready to give up like Putin and Zelenskyy, who are still at war even after 4 years. (This time I would Epstein from drawing a comparison with Mr Trump.)

But … but … but … The more you try to resist something or someone, the higher the possibility that you will fall for the same person or thing. And I’m as human as you, my readers. 

That’s the sole reason for me to keep coming back to the adamant and obdurate Mr Trump, who has the gumption to denigrate the Supreme Court justices on social media, calling them ‘Fools’ and “Lapdogs’, because for him, what matters is simply bringing back the era of MAGA — Make America Great Again. That’s what he often claims. But isn’t America still the most powerful country?

Is it the dignity of and duty towards the White House he’s worried about, or the profitability of his own house? Quite a debatable question.

But there can’t be any debate on the recent Taliban law regarding the legalization of domestic violence against women and girls, with terms and conditions applied — no broken bones and no open wounds. Sadly, these women are not even safe in their own homes. While world leaders seem to have turned a blind eye to this inhuman law, all eyes were turned on the robotic dog, or Robodog — a Chinese product passed off as Indian —  at the AI Summit back home. Undoubtedly, Indians are jugaadu in every which way. Or maybe, even today, the management of the Galgotia University (I like the name:)) believes in the 1950s Nehruvian slogan — Hindi-Chini Bhai Bhai.

Undoubtedly, Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam — the world is one family — is a good concept to practise, but not at the cost of maligning India’s rising fame. Professor Neha Singh’s fluttering responses to the media about the origin of the Robodog brought me back to the persistent fluttering of pigeons, which are also a part of the concept of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam. 

I understand that as a part of this kutumb, I need to make more attempts to be empathetic. So, keeping my fingers crossed, I hope these pigeons will find a better place to build a ghar for themselves. 

They just need a good broker.

*****

RaGa: Ma, what happened?
Ma: Son, it’s time for Ghar Wapsi. 

Posted on by nikita

Chai pe charcha

street vendor making traditional indian chai

It wasn’t simply a conversation over a cup of tea, but the charcha was all about the amusing variety of ways people consume a cup of tea. 

For example, let me tell you about a friend of my cousin: he would arrange seven saucers on the dining table and pour tea into each of them. Then he would slurp it from every saucer, starting from 1 through 7. 

Instantly, this anecdote conjured up the image of Tom from my favourite Tom & Jerry cartoon in front of my unblinking eyes. Tom lapping his tongue, relishing what’s on a plate, before getting instigated by his all-time friend and foe, Jerry.

Just as their friendship is full of twists and turns, the real-world alliance of President Trump and his one-time dear friend, the Indian chaiwala, is also not immune to twists and turns. Lately, all his frequent taarif in honour of Mr. Modi seems to have turned into a virulent tariff. 

*****

Taarif karu kya uski jisne tumhe banaya…— an acquaintance who would empty the contents of the cup, the tea, into a thali and let the heat dissipate, thereby cooling it. By this time, she would get her daughter ready for school — dressing her in the school uniform, combing her hair, and preparing her lunchbox. Of course, she would know the difference between a tea that’s gone cold and iced tea. 

Just wondering, what she did with the tea scum? Would she just let it slip down her deprived throat, akin to kids who let bitter medicines glide down their resistant throat, or would she pinch it with her index finger and thumb, a neat pincer grasp, and discard the scum?

Surely, many of us must have come across people who remove tea scum and place it on the rim of a cup or on the side of a saucer. The sight of this waxy residue, stuck to the surface, is quite grotesque, like a ghostly skin on something once appealing. And if the vessels aren’t soaked or washed immediately, the scum gets as stubborn as it can, eventually bearing the brunt of the soapy scrub that is rubbed to and fro over it. 

*****

Scum. 

Sounds so derogatory. Like — ‘Hey! You scum! How dare you float on the surface of my tea! You thin, brown, good-for-nothing!’ 

Take a chill pill! I’m neither being racist nor disparaging. It’s just a vituperative outrage. Nowadays, the tu tadak and offensive language is considered normal, whether it’s satta, samaj, series, or cinema. Swearing seems to be the new vibe. 

Consciously or subconsciously, pejoratives are interwoven into many people’s day-to-day communication just like their staple food. It’s like daal-chawal for some, the absence of which is considered an incomplete meal; while, for others, it could be as soothing as an adruk ki chai.

*****

Chai adrukwali ho ya elaichiwali, no one dared to compete with a person I knew from my adolescent days when it came to drinking piping hot tea. For clarity’s sake, let’s assume that there were four people in a room who were to be served tea. This person would finish his tea before you reach the third person. We felt pity for the tender tissues of his mouth and tongue, and offered our condolences to them. But that’s how he enjoyed having his tea. 

And why just him? My aunt, who would always prefer things that are hot and happening, would cover her cup of tea with a tea coaster after pouring the first installment of tea into a saucer. Once she sips it, relishing every drop of it, she would pour the second portion into the saucer. That’s her style. 

It’s difficult to break the atomic habits she has built over the years, and why would anyone expect her to revise her preferences? After all, she doesn’t have to pay any GST on sipping the tea the way she wants. And, just as I decide what goes into my blog and what doesn’t, she also holds the fundamental right to determine what comes out of her cup.

*****

Journalist: SIR, how did you feel having tea with the ‘dead’ voters from Bihar?
Rahul: As dead as the Indian economy. 


Posted on by nikita

Fan, Fanatic, and Fantastic

Nowadays, my day starts with the banging of the hammer; the clanging of the rebars, sliding off a truck; the roaring machines; and the shouting of the labourers. Every other minor noise outside is lost in the din. But suddenly, one day, there was an eerie silence, as if everything came to a standstill.

In this unanticipated, random, peaceful hour, I stood up to switch on the fan. No sooner did I switch it on than the stillness in the atmosphere was punctuated by the squeaking of the fan. 

I was like, ‘Hey! I just got your capacitor changed so that you start working, and now you have found another way to seek my attention? It’s too much now.’

But, on a serious note, how much is too much? 

A whirring fan is just a small example from my day-to-day life, but what about the wife in Mumbai who made fantastic demands from her estranged husband of an 18-month-old marriage? A BMW, a luxury apartment, and ₹12 crore as part of alimony! 

Of course, there are some cases where alimony demands are genuine and a valid source of survival for a woman, especially when she is a homemaker, and when a woman is completely dependent on her husband. 

But this Mumbai divorce case in particular, and many recent divorce cases, where the wives have demanded huge alimony, give rise to debatable questions, like — where does genuine maintenance end and aspiration begin? Who draws the line between empowerment and entitlement? 

Some argue that some women play the victim card for the ease of a luxurious lifestyle, while others misuse the laws for women’s welfare, replacing them with official extortion from estranged husbands.

In such situations, how much is too much?

Even Mr. Trump, in his second presidential innings, appears to be portraying himself as a victim, assuming that America is being “ripped off” and “pillaged” by other nations in terms of trade. Caught between the dichotomy of being delusional about America’s economy and conscious of the fact that there’s neither peace nor prize for being a Nobel mediator between warring nations, the President has imposed unjustifiable tariffs on different countries — an unfair extortion at an international level?

For over four months, every night, he must have scratched his head, covered with blond hair —  yet again, a new colour, mulling over the question — How much tariff is too much tariff? And, every morning, for the same number of months, the leaders of different nations must have woken up to the fanatic ‘tweet, tweet’ notification sound. 

The twittering is still a pleasant sound, like music to the ears, reminding us of cute little sparrows, but the cooing and pooping of pigeons is slightly displeasing. At least to me. And apparently, such displeasure is not bound within the four walls of my house, but has entered the city of Mumbai as well. A dispute between the BMC and animal lovers has erupted in Dadar, regarding health concerns — BMC’s worry about the hazardous effects on human health due to the feathers and droppings of pigeons, and the protestors’ worry concerning the health of the pigeons of Kabutarkhana, who might starve to death if not timely fed. 

Again, how much is too much?

*****

Arjun: How much is too much?
Krishna: Parth, karm kar, phal ki chinta mat kar. 

Source of the image – https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ-6VOWXUYNmZ34qkOiRkZeXQCGPSaq6EN5CA&s

HAPPY JANMASHTAMI


Posted on by nikita

Fill-in-the-gap

people holding puzzle pieces

If filling generation gaps were as simple and easy as filling the gaps in an exam question paper! 

The inspiration for this analogy emerged from an interesting discussion among ‘pupils’ from different generations – Baby Boomers, Gen X, Millennials, and Gen Z. 

I say ‘pupil’ because everyone engaged in the discussion learned one new thing about a generation distinct from their own. It seemed so. A new perspective. A different thought, encompassing topics such as social constructs, parenting, lifestyle, life partners, marriage, and religion.

Surely, the answers to the questions raised weren’t as easy and definitive as the responses to fill-in-the-blanks. We either fill in the blank with a correct answer or a wrong one. True for subjects that are based on logic and facts. For example, math, science, geography, civics, and so on. 

Those were fun exercises; easy-to-copy questions in exams, like other objective-type questions. What was true for my friend was also true for me. 

But we can’t be certain when the question involves filling a generational gap, since each generation has different options to consider. The probability of having a definitive answer is negligible. It’s more like literature, history (a blend of objectivity and subjectivity), art, and music that are subjective. These subjects require interpretive, analytical, and evaluative skills, which are also vital for understanding the communication gaps between people across generations. 

On second thought, a lack of communication is also evident between people belonging to the same generation. And sometimes the result is violent and gory — a recent Meghalaya honeymoon murder case.

In some cases, despite the language of communication being the same, people fail to understand each other; in others, language itself becomes a battleground. For instance, a brawl between an auto driver and a commuter in Bengaluru over language use — the driver demanding to speak in Kannada and the commuter speaking in Hindi and English. 

Wasn’t it unnecessary for both parties to fight over language? 

When the rickshawala knew English (as shown in the viral video), he could have replied to the commuter in English. At the same time, if the commuter were a migrant, one would expect her to know the regional language. At least the basics.

And now that we already have AI to fill the language gap, why clash over languages? Use a Google translator and keep moving. What’s the big deal? Why create a ruckus over the language preference of the natives and non-natives? Instead, why can’t we respect and celebrate the diversity of languages? Isn’t India known for its ‘Unity in Diversity’? 

However, in today’s braver India, the slogan could be tweaked to ‘Unity in Adversity’, considering national unanimity during Operation Sindoor. Only if the still-young Gandhi doesn’t take any offence, much like he did with the EAM’s particular remark regarding Operation Sindoor. Mr. Gandhi claimed that Mr. S. Jaishankar had informed the Pakistani defence about the military operation ‘at the start’ of the attack. But anyway, most Indians already realize that filling the cognitive gap in Mr. Gandhi’s political and linguistic understanding is a tough task.  

In all probability, such a lack of understanding in an adult could be one of the reasons why the government insists on mandating multilingualism in the school syllabus, which enhances an individual’s cognitive abilities. The government would want kids to grow up into smarter adults for a progressive India. 

But, of course, like any other issue, the language issue is also politicized in India, particularly in the states of Maharashtra, Karnataka, and Tamil Nadu. Apart from daily skirmishes over the means of communication, which sometimes become fatal, the leaders in these states are engaged in a battle with the Centre over the three-language policy. 

Sometimes I wonder — Where do these people get so much energy from? Don’t they get tired of quarrelling over everything? Even if it’s their job to oppose, still, it must be stressful to fill in the unanswered blank by the government with sensible arguments every time. 

*****
Friend: Seems I need to stop binge-eating.
Me: Fill the gap in your belly applying the ‘Jordan Formula’. New gyan.