The Eternal Thing

 I don’t want to have kids. And I don’t say that with hate, but with a quiet thought. When I look around - especially in cities -  I wonder what kind of world children are being born into. There’s pollution in the air before they even learn to breathe deeply. Noise in their ears before they learn what silence feels like. Screens in front of their eyes before they can see a full sky. What kind of childhood is this? It’s more like - something they never deserved it. Parents are expected to give everything. The extent they had to go to give a good future for their kid. Or kids. The school fees? They’re so high that it feels nonsense and unreal. Entire salaries vanish just for access to education that may not even teach them to be kind. Meanwhile, the planet is getting hotter. Water is becoming rarer. Cities are suffocating. Why would I bring a child into this? I am not exactly afraid of commitment. I am afraid of watching someone I love suffer in a world that’s already too hard. ...

Many people believe in God - and idea that the God shall protect the good, punish the wrong and guide the lost. For many, God is the foundation, support. It’s the guiding spirit. Or anything. The idea of God is not something explainable in such a simple terms. But my belief of God, being someone who is watching and all powerful is beginning to deteriorate. The planet is burning. Our children are starving. People are sleeping hungry while food is thrown away. Wars. Floods. Abuse. Injustice. Still, we are praying? The thing is - everything I see - good and bad - is stemming from humans. People are saving each other. People are hurting each other. God.. is just there watching? Can we say “God will help?” I wonder at people who ask “How will you explain this miracle?” I want to ask them - Even if that is God, why only that miracle?  Why not stop countless tragedies happening round the clock? Why not use power to feed every child, bring water and end the pointless suffering? If the God ...

It’s strange, isn’t it? We live in a world with high-speed internet, 5G, instant messages, Zoom calls and flight tickets that can take us across the country in a few hours. The world has never been more connected. And yet… we’re all so far apart. We are becoming disabled in this tech enabled world. People move away from home more than ever. To study. To work. To “build a future.” Yes, it’s needed sometimes. For learning. For exposure.  But often… it seems we are allowing it quietly more than required. Maybe it’s just the system forcing us to. All the jobs are in cities. All the money, infrastructure and “opportunities”. Hence we leave. We leave behind warm meals, evening walks with parents, familiar lanes and families that actually feel like festivals. We leave people who raised us - and see them only on phone calls or during a short visit squeezed between deadlines. For what? For a cubicle in a crowded city, A rented flat that never feels like home, Weekends that vanish in chores,...

A person working under the sun is spoken to with commands.  A sanitation worker is avoided like disease. A delivery person is told to “hurry up” like they don’t have a life, a body, a family waiting for them. It is getting worse. We’re growing more impatient. More demanding. More disconnected from our own humanity. We expect more - faster, cheaper, cleaner - and we forget there’s a person behind every task. A person with a body that aches. A heart that feels. A name that deserves to be spoken with respect. We don’t just ignore them - sometimes, we frighten them. With our power. Our money. Our English. We treat status like a license to speak down. A rich customer scolds a worker and it’s called “feedback” A boss humiliates a driver and it’s called “discipline” And no one questions it - because we’ve normalised the cruelty. That’s not progress. That’s not development. That’s just another way to forget what makes us human. We need to get tired of seeing the dual nature people who act ...

 ”I work so much, and they pay me so little.” Many people heard others saying it. In fact, many people might have felt themselves. But, how do we even know what's the right pay? There's no universal scale. No fair calculator. Just a system that decides to pay the least they can -  not what a person work is truly worth. It's not about effort. Not about the hours. And definitely not about the impact. A farmer grows food. A delivery worker gets it to your doorstep. A nurse watches over someone else's life. They're not paid poorly because they matter less - they're paid poorly because the system doesn't see them as profitable. We've built an eceonomy that rewards visibility, branding and negotiation - not contribution, necessity or effort. It favors those who can talk well, sell themselves and climb ladders. And it quietly ignores those who hold the ground steady. So when people feel underpaid, overworled or overlooked - it's not a personal failure. It...

She was sixteen.  A radham - tall, sacred, massive - collapsed onto an auto. She was trapped inside. In those final moments, what did she see? A crowd. Running. Watching. Frozen. No one stepped in. Not one person tried. And maybe they were afraid. Maybe they thought it was too late. Maybe they were waiting for someone else to go first. But none of that brings her back. What haunts me isn’t just that she died. It’s that no one chose her. Not over their fear. Not over their own safety. Not even over their instinct to flee. And what does that say about us? We build chariots for Gods, decorate them with Gold, pull them through the streets in loud devotion - but when a girl crushed beneath one, the silence is louder than the chants. We call it a tragedy. But maybe it is a mirror. A moment that reflects the kind of people we’ve become.  How we’ve normalized looking away. How fear wins over humanity. How help is something we hope someone else will give. And the thing is - I wasn’t th...

 There’s something strange about the way we live now. It’s not enough to do your job. You have to grow. Climb. Upskill. Network. Earn more. Spend more. Repeat. People areound you - even the ones who seem tired - still say, “Keep pushing.” The ones ahead keep reaching higher. The ones behind are told to catch up. And if you stand still for even a moment, they say you’re wasting time. But no one explains why. Why is a peace a problem? Why is being satisfied with what you have seen as a failure? This idea of “simple life” - it used to be normal. Work. Come home. Cook. Be with the people you love. Rest. Now it’s rare. Or romanticized. Or quietly looked down on. We’re told that success means constant movement. That we need to hustle, or we’ll be left behind.  But behind what, really? We’ve normalized the rat race, without asking who started it. And the truth is - only a few can actuallly win it. Most people burn out trying.  Others fake their way through it, smiling through st...

There was a time when, if someone fell behind, someone else reached out. A neighbor. A friend. A stranger who noticed. Help came in human form.- through hands, not systems. Now, when someone can't make rent, we offer them a credit card. Not time. Not understanding. Just a product. For many, credit cards aren't about luxury. They are about milk. Bus fare. Power bills. A cracked screen they can't afford to fix, but need to keep working. They're survival. Bought on interest. But why don't people help each other anymore? Maybe it's not that they don't want to. Maybe they just can't/ Because in a world this unequal, even the ones who look fine are struggling silently. Trying to make ends meet. Trying to save something - anything. We've made life expensive and wages slow. We've made emergencies personal and help transactional. And those with enough - the wealthy, the secure -  They keep saving. Keep growing. Keep watching. While the gap gets wider. Thi...