All the random thoughts

“I took care of you,” I said, voice thick with betrayal. “Met your every demand all these years. And yet, all I get in return is certain death — and the looming possibility of disease. You are the greatest traitor.” “Death is my destiny,” the body replied calmly. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know that. As for disease — that’s your doing. Not mine” “My doing? I fed you the best. Gave you not just water, but every drink you desired. Took you to places of beauty, treated you to the grandest of dramas and music. Weren’t these your demands? How did they become my deeds?” “When did I ever ask for those? I asked for little food when hungry, water when thirsty, rest when tired. That’s all. You — you — piled on the rest. Desires I never uttered, and yet bore in silence, because you’re the master. So yes — disease is just another name for your deeds.” “Traitor! Isn’t the mind a part of you? It was the mind that led me, suggested what to do, what to offer. I stressed myself to ensure you...

Purely seen from the eyes of an average Indian family, the H1B visa has always been a paradox — a blessing on paper, but in reality, often a home breaker. For decades, young Indian students have set their sights on American colleges. Many of them were not toppers or prodigies; they were ordinary students from middle-class families, often going to colleges that were also, by every measure, quite ordinary. Yet, the dream was never about the degree itself — it was about what came after. The H1B. The golden ticket. The promise of a well-paying job, the allure of the dollar-rupee differential, the belief that those borrowed lakhs of rupees could be repaid with ease once America opened its doors. Parents signed loan documents with trembling hands, mortgaging futures for the possibility of a brighter one. Mothers filled suitcases with masalas and memories. Fathers stood silently at airport gates, calculating silently when the first repayment installment might get covered. The gamble was alway...

I drove to the ashram with a restless mind. The road was quiet, but my thoughts were anything but.   “AI will take away all the jobs and make human lives miserable,” I kept telling myself. It had been years since I last saw the Guru, yet today I needed his clarity more than ever. When I arrived, he greeted me with a gentle smile.  “So, what troubles you?” he asked. “Artificial Intelligence—these new Large Language Models. They are mechanizing everything. People will lose jobs, livelihoods will vanish. How will humanity survive?” He raised an eyebrow. “My job too?” “Perhaps,” I said, half in jest. “The way these models structure language, they might even replace you.” The Guru chuckled softly. “Well, I don’t have a job. And I don’t need one. Look around—what do you see?” I glanced at the humble ashram: a clay pot of water, a few mats spread on the floor. Nothing more.  “Nothing of significance,” I replied. “So,” he said, “you do the same. If machines are taking...

The Guru was seated at his usual place. The Ashram was empty for a change. I walked in straight, without having to wait for a short darshan. "You seem to be in a hurry," the Guru smiled. "Not really. But I am a little agitated. You see, after that post on LLM, people started calling me a very good writer and even a philosopher." "Is that bad news?" "Indeed it is. Now I feel the pressure to keep up with that reputation. It’s as if I must churn out something deeply insightful every other day. I’m not that smart—I know it. But how do I keep looking smart? That’s stressful." "No one gives two hoots about who you are. They liked your post and said something nice. That’s it. The matter ends there." The Guru had this effortless way of grounding people. "I give more than two hoots about who I am," I blurted, my foolishness refusing to bend to his simple reasoning. "See this picture?" The Guru held up an ordinary ...

(This is in response to all those who asked me, "If Rama was embodiment of Dharma, what about Krishna?". I tried to answer and hope it makes sense) If Rama followed the path of destiny, making choices rooted unwaveringly in Dharma, does that make Krishna wrong for taking a more strategic, even seemingly unfair, approach in the Mahabharata? Was Krishna justified in orchestrating the deaths of Drona, Jayadratha, Karna, and Bhishma through unconventional means? Was he, in fact, being a hypocrite about Dharma? The difference lies in how each upheld Dharma in their respective yugas. Rama lived by Dharma — he walked within its established boundaries. He was Dharma personified, choosing personal suffering over deviation from righteous conduct. But Krishna did not simply follow Dharma — he manifested it. He stood in a time when Dharma was fractured and had to be re-established. He wasn’t just a participant in destiny — he was its architect. In the Ramayana, Rama lives in ...

In a world driven by reason, strategy, and measurable outcomes, the story of Rama from the Ramayana offers a striking counter-narrative. Rama's choices often appear illogical on the surface, yet they illuminate a deeper truth—one rooted not in reason but in Dharma. When Queen Kaikeyi asked King Dasharatha to exile Rama and crown her son Bharata, it was a move that defied logic. Every citizen of Ayodhya longed for Rama to ascend the throne. Kaikeyi's manipulation was transparent. Dasharatha was broken, Bharata would never agree to take the crown this way, and public unrest was a likely outcome. Logic dictated that Rama should stay, wait for Bharata to return, and overturn Kaikeyi's irrational demands. But Rama didn’t choose logic. He chose Dharma. As a son, his duty was to honor his father’s word—even if it was unfair or politically dangerous. Rama knew that upholding Dharma would cost him comfort, power, and perhaps the goodwill of the people. But he also knew t...

We live with the illusion of control—crafting plans, chasing passions, clinging to beliefs, loving some, hating others. Our world is a mosaic of viewpoints, pursuits, politics, and faiths. And our ego is built around our positions and possessions. Yet when death knocks, none of these seem to matter. There are moments that jolt us into this realization. A man murdered on his honeymoon. A cricket team's celebration sparks a stampede, killing 11 (how ironic !) Tourists are gunned down by militants, seemingly at random. A plane crashes—not just anywhere, but onto a hospital canteen, and spares a precious few while killing.many. Civilians die in the crossfire of conflicts they neither started nor supported. To the rational mind, it looks like chaos. But what if it's not? There must be a karmic algorithm at work—one we cannot see, let alone understand. Karma is not about punishment or reward in a simplistic sense. It’s a web of actions and consequences, entangled across time and life...