Nolan's Odyssey

Haven’t read the Odyssey but have read about it through the history reams. For me, it has been philosophy disguised as adventure & psychology wrapped in myth. The greatest myths survive because they are not about the gods and monsters - they're about us and our characteristics – be it our grief, vulnerabilities and our longing to be back home with our own.

Being a Nolan fan, was excited to see the journey that Odyssey took, through his IMAX lens. 

Wasn’t struck by either the Cyclops, Calypso nor Circe but how grounded it is. It’s not relegated itself to the museum – instead it is a poignant thread for today’s world. He humanizes it through his lens. Thus the casual dialogues. 

Nolan’s Odysseus doesn’t dwell in his pride or glorify his brilliance – instead he’s a softer, reflective man who’s in tune with sensisbilities and tries to be poignantly politically correct. 

Was impressed by the weaving together of timeless human truths. The monsters showcased are metaphors - pride, greed, vengeance, fear, ambition, love and the intoxicating temptation of power.

In the midst of the daunting journey, the gods do intervene, but it is still human choice that determines destiny. And that’s the enduring lesson which feels especially relevant today: be cautious of those who promise glory through easy narratives. 

The weave that Nolan sews, is a masterclass in summation – it strips the armor of ancient propaganda to look what lies below. It’s a cautionary tale – don’t believe in the gilded paeans of politicians. True virtue doesn’t lie in the decree of the state – it resides in the small enduring acts of goodness, resilience and basic humanity. This is what keeps us tethered to each other inspite of the world that tries hard to tear us. 

The Odyssey isn't about reaching Ithaca - It's about who you become on the journey home.

The Line We Blur

Love and care are not the same thing. They are not the same emotion wearing two names

We often use them interchangeably, as though one automatically guarantees the other. 

But nope they are not. They are different things entirely. 

Care is duty, habit, familiarity, sometimes even guilt dressed up as loyalty. Love is choice, renewed on purpose, again and again, even when it's inconvenient.

You can love someone deeply and yet not care for them in the ways they need.

You can also care for someone immensely, long after the love has quietly packed its bags and left.

Care is making sure someone's eaten - it's about duty, habit and familiarity. Being there when they need help. Wanting them to be safe, healthy, and okay.

Love is something else. It's the desire to share your inner world. It's a choice - to be with someone, not out of obligation, but because your heart still finds its way back to them.

Sometimes, relationships outlive love - especially one that has quietly run its course. Because life has slowly replaced love with habit, responsibility, familiarity... and care. And care can be deceptive. It feels enough. It looks enough. From the outside, it can even resemble love. So we stay.

That line gets blurred on purpose. Not because we don't know the difference. We do. But we blur - why? 

Partly because leaving is exhausting. Ambiguity lets you stay a little longer without having to call it anything. Untangling years of shared history feels more daunting than simply carrying on. Lethargy is easier than a decision.

I care for people I no longer love.

I love Whisky [iykyk], and caring for him is simply one expression of that love.

The distinction is subtle, but once you see it, it's impossible to unsee.

Perhaps the hardest thing in life isn't falling out of love.

It's recognising that you already have.

This Is Not Governance

Grew up reading history which told us that my India won her freedom not because an empire weakened, but because ordinary people found extraordinary courage.

One man walked to Dandi. Millions walked with him.

Today, another man sat on a hunger strike and requested a dialogue on the accountability to an entire generation of students. 

Instead of dialogue, what we witnessed today is not governance. When an administration relies on the plainclothes policemen and security personnel for an early morning abduction of a peaceful, fasting Sonam Wangchuk from Jantar Mantar, it abdicates its right to be called a government. 

A true government is of, by, and for the people – I refuse to call the people who did this that. The current ruling apparatus operates purely for the preservation of its own power and the enrichment of its corporate.

The parallels to the British Raj are no longer hyperbole. When Gandhi went on a hunger strike, even the ruthless East India Company were forced into the theater of dialogue. Today’s ruling party lacks even that colonial courtesy. They do not engage; they erase. They are uncomfortable with conversation itself. 

Pre-independence, our forefathers paid lagaan to the English. Today, the tax code has simply been rebranded. The modern version is funneled directly into the pockets of Adani, Ambani, and the tight coterie of oligarchs. 

The hypocrisy is staggering. The PM beats the drum of self-reliance, telling people to travel in India, to wed in India. But there’s a glaring omission - he never tells them to study in India! 

Why? Because one cannot mandate domestic education when one has utterly failed to build the infrastructure to support it - failure made glaringly obvious by systemic exam leaks that has left millions of students in despair. More than 1.2 million Indian students are currently studying abroad, and the number taking loans to fund that education has nearly tripled in the last decade. 

That is the actual wealth we should be trying to stem — and the real brain drain we should be reversing.

For Love Is All Who I Am

 

I loved you deeply as i know how. 

Never once did i regret it, not even for a fleeting moment. 

Because love, freely given, is never a loss. 

It leaves fingerprints on the soul - not scars. 

Every kindness, every embrace, 

Every piece of my heart i placed in yours.....

None of them were wasted. 

Love has a way of returning - may not be through the same door. 

But it returns. 

In another embrace. In another friendship. 

In another season of life or simply in the quiet place. 

Of knowing that i remained true to myself. 

With or without you. 

My heart, never empty because love was never something i possessed. 

Love is something i am. 

It flows through me as it's me, my nature. 

I have always left without bitterness. 

Without wishing i loved you less. 

For if i had, i would have become less of myself. 

And that would have been the only true loss. 

The Silence Of Our Conscience?

 
I Am Apolitical. I Choose Humanity First. 

I care about people, animals, kindness, fairness and dignity. Call me an advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves - whether they have two legs or four. If labels are necessary, then i am a Humanist. 

What unsettles me is not just one issue - it's not only education or governance. It's the growing feeling that we as ordinary citizens have become spectators in our own democracy. Our voices are no longer part of the conversation - they are simply background noise. The feeling is painful. 

Watching Sonam Wangchuk undertake a fast for what he believes is right has brought that pain into sharp focus. Here's a man willing to put his own life on the line for a cause he believes affects students who are the future of this country. That kind of conviction deserves to be heard. At the very least, it deserves engagement. 

What troubles me is the indifference. Indifference is perhaps the most violent form of silence. Anger / Debate / Disagreement - all of these acknowledge your existence. But indifference simply tells you, that you don't matter. 

That is the silence i find hardest to accept. And it isn't only the silence of those in power. It's the silence of much of our media - be it mainstream or entertainment. It's the silence of those influential voices who tell us what deserves our outrage vis-a-vis our applause. 

Millions of us first encountered his brilliance through 3 Idiots. We laughed, cried, quoted dialogues and applauded the message. We turned the film into part of our cultural fabric. But today when the man is fasting, where are the voices? We celebrated his story. But those are the same strangely absent for current his-story. 

Not saying that every influential voice should share the same opinion but there is a difference between choosing a side and choosing to care. There is a difference between political allegiance and human empathy. Some moments and times rise above ideology. 

Democracy is more than elections. It is the relationship between us and those we entrust to govern. It depends on dialogue, accountability and the belief that every voice has a value - even the ones that disagree with us. The feeling that listening itself, once considered a virtue, is gradually going extinct. 

I write this as someone who believes empathy shouldn't be partisan. Government, policies, leaders - all will have their fair share of successes and failures. But compassion should remain constant. The day we stop feeling another person's pain, we stop being a society. We become a populace sharing geography. 

Humanity isn't seasonal. 

Compassion isn't selective. 

Silence, in the face of another's suffering, is not neutrality. It is a choice.

And today, I choose not to make it.

RAFA : Relentless, Agile, Fierce, All-Time Great

RAFA. 

Watching Rafael Nadal’s journey felt less like sport and more like witnessing a man negotiate with pain, over and over again—and still choose to show up.

I was crying through most of it.

14 Roland Garros titles doesn’t even sound real when you say it out loud. It sounds like mythology. But what stayed with me wasn’t just the dominance—it was the cost. The quiet, relentless suffering behind that fist pump. The discipline to keep going when the body is clearly asking you to stop.

The contrast was poetic—Federer, all grace, like ballet in motion. Nadal, like a storm crashing against rock—raw, relentless, unyielding.

He didn’t just redefine greatness—he redefined endurance.

And maybe that’s the uncomfortable part. Because he makes suffering look purposeful, almost noble. Like if you’re not pushing yourself to the absolute edge, you’re not doing enough. This should be a lesson for Alcaraz too—that even greatness has limits, and knowing them is part of the journey.

Because in the end, retirement isn’t giving up. It’s not the closing of a chapter in defeat. It’s the courage to step away, to open doors for new lessons, new purpose, and new hope.

Still, you can’t look away.

Because somewhere in that grind, that refusal to quit, is a reminder of what humans are capable of—when they decide the pain is worth it.

Elegy

Memories of you beneath the full moon

Dancing at the high tide of heaven’s rich boon,

Informs the cliffs and canyons of my soul:

With munificence so to crown your role,

            Yet maintain exquisite control!

            The memory has exacted its toll ….

Strontium Ninety in each falling bone

Have I been journeying forth alove

Through monasteries of mountain and of moor

And big city din of teeming public ways

Where changing lights brought no beloved face.

            I dream on still, of brocade in the night:

            Of jasmine trailing its soft allure

            And peacocks that made the dusk more bright.