“LOUDER!” he screeches.

I was wondering why the school keeps giving a platform to this one kind and not others. And whatever it does, why does it have to raise the volume so high?

Then I realized: it must have been someone specific who invited this speaker, right? One person who tweaked the volume knob.

We keep doing this - attributing actions to institutions. The school. The municipality. The government.

But institutions don’t turn knobs. People do.

Like "BDA" did not raze these houses. Specific individuals did.
Full story here in Deccan Herald

Identify that one person with their hands on the volume-control knob and start there. Let these people name names - not orders from “higher up”. I don’t want to hear about “higher up.” Tell me who. Names. Follow the chain as far and wide it goes.

And then have a discussion. Was the action deliberate? What was the logic? Was it right, wrong?

Of course, finding those specific persons takes forever. You’d have to dig through layers. And usually the boots on the ground are just following orders anyway. So the deeper you dig, the higher up you go.

Normal pedestrian folks like you and me do not have this much time and energy to spend on such sleuthing. We have bills to pay.

So we reach out to those with “contacts” - if we even decide to pursue it. And those with contacts don’t have time for sleuthing either. They go straight to the top. Or as high as they can reach. If they bother acting on our behalf at all.

Which is efficient, I guess. The trail would’ve led somewhere there in the vicinity anyway.

But I still wonder if it would tickle my pedestrian heart to see the names. All of them - from the person who invited the speaker, to the guy who turned the knob.

Same for the ones who destroyed someone’s home. Or have left the 3 km stretch of a wide road nearby all dug up for last 6 months (doesn’t really narrow it down in Bengaluru, now does it?)

So I could judge them. Maybe hire someone to cast bad juju on them, even if I can’t do much else.

Better than chalking it all up to “the government” with a cold sigh. Which is about as impotent as chalking it up to fate.

My immediate reaction: “Nope! Not right now.”

Not “let me think about it.” Not “tell me more.” Just… nope.

Which is weird, because I love dogs. I love the idea of having one. I talk about wanting one. But the moment there’s an actual dog, an actual decision, I manufacture reasons.

We might travel in the next few months. L might move for her studies. Female dogs have periods - complications for first-timers. Sleep will suffer. Money’s tight. Neighborhood dogs might be aggressive during walks. Our long-term plans are uncertain.

All valid. All logical. All excuses.

Because if I really did want the dog, I think think I should be able to figure out the travel thing.

Mishri is perfect for a first-time pet parent. But not for me. Not now. Why?

I also do this with the intent to be more generous.

Someone asks for money on the street and my brain immediately pulls on one or more of below threads:

• I don’t have change (usually true)
• They do this professionally, that kid isn’t even theirs
• Why me, why not that local-looking guy? Do I look gullible?
• They’re perfectly able-bodied, why don’t they work? I wish there was something fair to ask them of, say worth 10 or 20 or 50 bucks and I could pay them fairly right now.
• I can’t help everyone who asks
• How do I know their story is genuine?
• Shouldn’t the government handle this?
• Are they really blind or just performing?

Noble thoughts about helping, empathy, concern yada yada. But my actions? Conversations with myself while the person moves away. The gap between what I think I am (generous, caring) and what I actually do is actually quite wide.

L does better. She goes out of her way. Sometimes even making trips specifically to give, to help and volunteer. Her delta is smaller.

Couple of weeks back I was talking to Karthik about obsession.

About how everyone interesting to me has their thing. L with mental health and her work on democratizing access. G with writing and pets and murder mysteries and Agatha Christie. Sunaina with dance. Karthik himself with trading and community building. I could go on and on.

And me? I’m obsessed about not having an obsession.

I’m worried I don’t have my “work” - something developing into a career or community I built or whatever. So I’m actively looking for the right obsession. Researching and prioritizing steps to find one.

Which is stupid for at least two reasons:

a) That’s not how obsessions work. You don’t go looking for rabbit holes. You keep trying things till something pulls you in.

b) Looking for the right obsession means putting off the actual obsessing part. Because obsessing IS the action. You READ murder mysteries, you WRITE, you TRADE, you DANCE, you MEET people to help them. If I’m still researching which thing to obsess about, I’m not really doing.. anything. And that’s not how I want to operate.

I think I am starting to see a pattern here.

Not being tied to something - a pet, children, a house, a cause, an obsession - gives me flexibility to do everything else. But it also takes away the compulsion or urgency to do something. So I often end up doing nothing else.

The people I envy are TIED to things. They gave up flexibility for clarity and vigor that comes from commitment and routine toward a thing you care about.

They chose dogs despite travel complications, obsessed about software / hardware freedom despite opportunity cost and experiments. Or even something as bog-standard as rearing up their kids or pursuing that next promotion.

And they all have that thing I don;t: a direction.

Instead I have all the flexibility. And I’m exhausted. And kind of bored.

I suppose it’s the right time to shake things up.

It’s January. Everyone’s making commitments. New habits, new goals, new year new me. Everyone’s asking “what’s your focus this year?” or “what are you committing to?” Usually my answer has been wishy-washy or even scoffing at the very idea of new-year resolutions.

But now I think that more than mocking it I have been envious of that new year energy everyone has of a commitment, the “this is what I’m doing” focus. Because at least they’re choosing something.

Meanwhile I’m doing a lot of nothing. Very flexibly :D

So maybe 2026 for me isn’t about finding the right thing. Maybe it’s just about choosing a thing. Any thing.

As I argued: “Done begets done.” Ergo, nothing begets nothing.

Next time G mentions opportunity for dog sitting or dog-boarding, maybe I’ll say yes before my brain gets to reasons.

Maybe I’ll stop researching obsessions and just obsess about something for a month. See what happens.

Maybe when the next beggar asks, I’ll give whatever change I have instead of calculating fairness and impact.

Maybe.

Still figuring this out. But at least now I’m noticing what I’m actually avoiding.

That feels like something.

From Chithra Santhe 2026 at Bengaluru, India

I came to know of Chitra Santhe fairly recently, couple of years back. It’s a 1-day, open air, art-market organized on the 1st Sunday of the year and attracts artists from across India. From as far as Kolkata and beyond, giving it quite a fair-like vibe.

The sticky-helix with tricolor on it on the bamboo stick to lower right is chewing-um sort of sweet, that the vendor fashions into a toy-watch, car, flower - whatever kids want.

Before coming to Chithra Santhe - I used to think of art as an elitist activity. Both - the creation as well as consumption aspect of it. I used to think that artists all come from privileged backgrounds where they did not have to worry about the income or their bills. And here I was thinking purely of paintings and sketches as “art”. Not any other kind.

I had the same notion for the consumers as well - or “connoisseurs”.

This was perhaps from my limited exposure to events like India Art Fair or galleries from Museum of Art and Photography to NGMA. Perhaps also influenced by the art-auction headline numbers.

But turns out, I just had not given it much thought.

I saw amazing work from artists of varying backgrounds - from premier institutions in India to much humbler ones. And the customers were not homogeneous either.

Artists from different demographies

Art school or otherwise

An artist from North Karnataka told me about what he calls “Blood Art” - apparently people commission artworks for family or close friends and offer 2 ml of their blood to the artist. Who then mixes it with other colors and uses the red from the blood to create his signature Blood Art. Not for me, but fascinating!

There was a guy who had traveled from Kolakata to display his works. But could not reach in time and so could not get the right stall. HE had his workds displayed against the gate of Khadi Emporium. I wondered if the sales here on this one day is worth traveling all the way. He said it was, at least last couple of years.

I wished him the best for this year as well.

Chitra Santhe attracts a more than just painters. There are all sorts of artists from live-caricaturists to jewelry-makers to the lamp-shades and photographers and everything in between.

And folks from different walks of life. Like this gentleman who had come with his family, requesting me take a family portrait when he noticed me with my camera.

And many other interesting characters…

We ended up getting 2 art works. And a lamp shade. I will go the next year too.

Hope you get to as well.

I had my logic, my reasons. I had my clarity on what fulfillment even means for me. And rationale to why do I need it in the first place. But in that moment, I just felt free and scared at the same time.

Free to look for meaning elsewhere instead of guilt-tripping myself about not working hard enough on finding meaning in what I was doing. Or not being ambitious enough or grateful enough.

But the question that stared back at me was: If not this, then what?

Who picked your path for you?

I think most people don’t have goals of their own. They have chores.

Back in the earlier days, our goal was simple: to survive, to stay alive. It still is for some unfortunate few. But largely, society solved survival for most of us. It keep us alive. But being alive is still not the same as truly living, is it? That still needs a purpose, a goal.

And so the society offered us a structured template. The next promotion became the goal. Getting married, buying that house, raising your kid, saving for retirement. That’s the standard path with clear milestones. And you know the direction towards the next one.

Only, that direction seems so … same. Dull even.

Did I dream about these milestones growing up? May be some did. Or may be we picked what was on the menu. And some of us may not have have had even that luxury of choice either. Personally, it does not seem like this path leads to a goal that was ever my own to begin with.

There’s a character in this book I just read - A Psalm for the Wild-Built - who says it better than I can.

“I woke up hollow… I packed up everything, and I learned a brand-new thing from scratch, and gods, I worked hard for it… I’m good at what I do. I make people happy. I make people feel better. And yet I still wake up tired, like… like something’s missing… I threw myself into my work, I went to all the places that used to inspire me, I listened to music and looked at art, I exercised and had sex and got plenty of sleep and ate my vegetables, and still. Still. Something is missing.”

Mind you - the template isn’t bad. Far from it. It has worked for billions of people. But it’s harder for those who want something off-catalogue. No next rung on the corporate ladder, may be no kids either. Owning that house in the suburbs doesn’t matter that much.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Sure, being in a position to reject the standard path - whether thanks to the choices you made or luck or often both - is an absolute privilege. But the thing is is - you still need purpose. Only now you have the much harder job of building it yourself.

Like not buying a flat in an apartment because you want something more “you”. And then realizing you have to find that plot of land, get the designs done. Revise it 17 times. Actually build the thing. It’s exhausting! You might even be sleeping in a half-built structure for a while. And after everything, what you built might still not feel quite right.


That’s the thing nobody tells you about opting out:

The freedom doesn’t come with instructions. You’re just tired in a different way.

I have my own half-built structures. I’m writing, building software, building communities, making friends. But mostly, I’m still exploring. Partly because choosing feels final. Like my future self gets stuck with what the current me decided for it.

I have this rule: keep 2 hours a day free for creative play. Sounds nice - until there are days in a row when I stare at those hours wondering what counts as “creative play” and whether I’m wasting them.

I’ve spent some time over last year to launch a company with a few friends - called it NextFive. Not because I needed the money. Because I need a purpose? Something to point to? Still not sure. And that uncertainty makes it harder.

The ListenerCircles worked out though. Started as an experiment to see if I like the company of other people. Now I host them too. But that took two years of just showing up without knowing if it mattered.

I don’t know if this is better than the standard path. The people on the standard path know where they’re going. I envy that sometimes. But at least when I’m tired now, it’s from building something mine. Even if I’m not sure what that something is yet.

Dreams Are Sacred. Yours, and everyone else’s.

And yet, we sometimes step on one without even realising.

Like when you wanted to be an astronaut. Not realizing it’s not something you just do. Or that India does not have that great a space program as yet. Nope. You decided it was something cool, and you would want to be that guy with the bubble-helmet. Till the facts were explained to you by some well-meaning adult in the vicinity.

Or when your teacher might have pointed out the improbability of someone getting a Nobel Prize in Physics.

“Target JEE, be an engineer or a doctor” - your parents reasoned wisely - “Clear path; good prospects, stable income and respectable.”

Or may be you remember one of your BC (bakar) sessions with college mates, meeting after a while. When somewhere mid-conversation, you might have mumbled something about opting out of rat-race and doing something meaningful instead. They might have had a good laugh about you becoming a “baba” before moving on to the next topic, wherever that led.

Or it may have happened even more recently.

Your best friend might have been hyped about a book. She just wants to print out the whole 200 pages, instead of reading the PDF. And of course you might have “sensibly” suggested her “better” ways to go about it.

Did you ask what got her so hyped? Or ask her to tell you more? Or just share her excitement? Nope. Too busy being “sensible”.

I’m trying something different now.

When someone’s excited about something - even if I immediately see the “better” way or the practical problems - I’m trying to just be excited with them first.

Share the excitement. No hedging. No safe options. No planting seeds of doubt. Just join the madness.

And this part I’m trying to be really careful about: Do. Not. Plant. Seeds. Of. Doubt. In whatever well-meaning way you think you’re helping.

You may be thinking - “…but what if…“ or “…you have to, when…“ or a bunch of other edge-case scenarios.

But no.

Let’s try this for a while. Absolutely no doubts as part of the usual “well-wishing exercise”. No “…have you thought about…“ or “…what about this way instead”.

Unless doing so is going to bring you physical harm or financial ruin in the next five minutes, share that excitement! Nurture the ideas by going “Yes! And…“ instead of “…but…“.

Even if I see a better way, I’m trying to jump in with the excitement first. Revel in it for a bit. And then, if I still need to share that brilliant alternate approach, I will try to do it in a “Yes! And…“ way. Not with an “…instead of…“ mindset.

Because that initial excitement and inspiration needed for an idea to grow is fragile. Easy to kill. Hard to get back.

So I’m trying to be the thing I needed in all those moments when I shared my dreams. Not the sensible person. The person who goes “Yes! Tell me more! That’s amazing!”

It’s harder than it sounds. My helpful brain kicks in fast. But I’m catching myself more now.

Last week L mentioned about the kids at library folding / tearing pages of the new books she’d got there. My brain started warming up with “sensible” advice. But thankfully, I caught it in time. Asked her to tell me more instead - and she talked for 20 minutes about something she’d already thought through. And the next phase she’s exploring. By the time she was done, I was already seeing how stupid that sensibility must have sounded that I was ready to offer.

Still working on it; catching myself being helpful when I should be excited.

But at least now I’ve started to notice.

I was stuck in traffic couple of Saturdays back with the expected arrival time at home showing up as around 9 PM on Google Maps. This was a problem.

I’d decided to post on HackerNews that day - a “Show HN” for a small tool I’d built. And I wanted to post between 6:30-7:30 PM. Why? Because my research said that was the optimal time for Show HN posts.

By the time I got home it was late. I hadn’t written the intro for the post. I was tired. And a bit bummed out because now I had to wait yet another week.

Then, halfway through dinner, I realized how stupid the entire thing was.

The deadline was totally made up. Nobody was waiting. No real consequences. It was just me creating arbitrary pressure on myself.

We treat our own deadlines like some real constraints when they’re not.

This creates two problems:

• First, we feel like failures when we “miss” these imaginary deadlines.
• Second - and this is the more insidious one - we use timelines as excuses not to start or continue to move forward (I only have 20 minutes; not enough time for the morning run; guess I’ll skip today)

The timeline becomes a blocker. We wait for that perfect zen-block of time when we can enter that flow state and get everything done in one shot.

Only there will always be something And meanwhile, we’re not moving at all.

If tasks aren’t getting done, the timeline isn’t the problem.

Of course, there’s the dopamine hit from checking things off. There’s that momentum of done tool. But if you are consistently failing to get that closure on tasks, either they’re not small enough. Or you have too many projects competing for attention. Or something else in life needs addressing.

The timeline is a symptom, not the cause.

Two ways I’ve found to handle this:

• Either don’t get fixated on a deadline. Instead of a hard “I’ll launch by December”, ask “What’s the smallest next step I can take right now?” If you’re not taking it, why? Too big? Wrong project? Something blocking you emotionally?

That usually gets me moving. And if it does not happen in December? No harm done. January’s just as good.

• Or be flexible on the scope. If you have a real deadline, be flexible on scope. Don’t ask “How long will this take?” and set an arbitrary deadline. Effort estimates are frequently wrong. Instead Ask “How much time do I want to spend?” - that’s your real deadline. And then stay flexible on what you can get done in that time. Fix your appetite.

A 10 mins jog in the 20 mins you have is still better than skipping entirely. Showing up dailyish matters.

Oh, and that Show HN post I was supposed to do? Well, I posted it last weekend, and guess what? Crickets. Zero engagement :D

But I got it done. And I’ll try again with the next version on any regular day. No drama.

Btw, here’s the tool I was sharing, just in case you were wondering.

I’d just done my longest runs ever - 21 km in 2 hours 17 mins. A few days before that, my fastest: 10.1 kmph for a full hour. Nothing record-worthy by any real standard. But mine.

But when he asked how I got there, I realized I had almost nothing to tell her. One thing, maybe: “Do Couch to 5K. It’s a great program!” Personally, I love Just Run - simple. Offline. Fantastic!

After that? Just a bunch of mental stuff I’d stumbled into. Not much of technique. Not training plans. At least not so far, not at this level. Just keep showing up when you don’t feel like it.

Which is weird because I thought I’d have more. Tips about form or breathing or shoes or something. But no. Turns out the whole thing is mental.

The right expectations

Starting with this: it takes 12 weeks to get to 5K if you’ve never run before. That’s 3 months. Things will happen slower than you imagine. Way slower. Be prepared for this and don;t try to rush it. But it will happen if you just keep showing up.

You’ll want to quit around week 4. Everyone does. That’s when it stops feeling new and starts feeling hard. Your body hasn’t adapted yet. You’re still doing that thing where you check your watch every 30 seconds wondering if the interval is done. It’s not fun. In fact, try to keep the phone in the pocket or use one of those arm-bands thingies. Don’t look at your phone / watch. You’ll do better.

But then somewhere around week 7 or 8, something shifts. You stop thinking about it so much. Your body figures out what it’s doing. The effort drops - not to zero, but to sustainable. Like that graph about habit formation where the effort needed spikes hard at first and then suddenly falls off a cliff.

When you graduate past 5k - and you will - the same principles still apply. It’s okay to stop during your run. Need a break at 5.5k on your 6k day? Take it. Click some photos. Walk for a few minutes. Then keep going. Just like during Couch-to-5K, remember? You don’t have to run the whole distance in one unbroken stretch. Breaks are fine.

Speed? Forget about it. Go as slow as you feel like that day. Focus on covering the distance at your pace. With breaks. Do this consistently.

About consistency: dailyish is fine. 4-days a week is consistent. 3 days on a rough week - still okay. Less than that isn’t really consistent, but you know what? That’s okay too. Pick it up next week. No Drama.

I spent months beating myself up about missing run-days. Then I realized I was running 3-4 times a week and calling myself inconsistent. Which is insane! Dailyish is consistent.

Here’s something else I found: maintaining constant effort matters more than constant pace, especially past 5K.

Running uphill? Slow down. Keep the effort steady. Hot day? Slow down. Keep the effort steady. When you’re back on flat ground or in shade, pick it up again if you feel like it. The point is constant effort, not constant speed.

There’s this weird trick for practicing this: put a small sip of water in your mouth before you start. Don’t swallow it. Then try to have some left by the time you finish. This forces you to keep your mouth closed and breathe through your nose. And for that to work - you have to maintain a slow, steady effort. I suppose, it’s more of a constant physical reminder to self than anything else.

Sounds stupid. Probably is. But works.

Beyond running

I keep thinking about how this applies to other things. Not in a metaphorical way - but really in a literal, mechanical way.

You can’t sprint toward long-term goals. Whether it’s writing or building something or learning a new skill. Same pattern. You need the stamina version, not the sprint version.

And if you ask someone who’s good at that thing on how to start, they’ll probably give you something straightforward. Some version of Couch to 5K for their domain. A clear 1-2-3 plan you can follow without thinking too hard.

But a lot of it will still be the mental game. Being patient while knowing that it takes time. Being okay with breaks - taken or forced. Slowing down on tough stretches but keeping the effort constant. And mostly: showing up dailyish.

We know how it works with physical training; accepting that it takes ~12 weeks to build to 5K. That progress is slow. That you need breaks. That consistency matters more than intensity.

But then we approach everything else like it should happen faster. Like we should be able to learn a language in 90 days or build a business overnight. We treat creative work like a sprint when it’s obviously a marathon.

And when it doesn’t work - when we burn out or quit or just never start - we think we’re the problem. Not the approach.

Maybe we’re just running too fast. Maybe we need permission to go slower, take more breaks, keep showing up dailyish, and trust that the effort compounds even when we can’t see it yet.

I don’t know. I’m still figuring this out. But I can run 21 km now and I definitely couldn’t 4 months back.

And the only thing that changed was I stopped trying to do it all at once.

The catastrophe …

It was 4:45 PM when I realized the day was gone. In the sense that I’d accomplished exactly none of what I’d planned. Worse, I’d somehow created couple of brand new tasks for myself.

This morning had started differently. I’d told myself: productive day. Structured. Three items. Simple. I was itching by 7 AM to get started on it, but I held back. Relaxed breakfast over conversations; the newspaper; that next chapter from the book I’d been meaning to finish. “Take it slow” - I said to myself - “The day will be there. No commitments today. No interruptions ahead.”

In fact, I leaned in a bit extra-hard on taking it slow: had an early lunch, brunch-ish. Went through HackerNews while I waited for the geyser to do its thing. A bit of chitchat after the shower while L got dressed to head out.

By now, it was around 1300. The day, the uninterrupted expanse of time, ahead of me to start picking off the work-items one by one.

But right before starting, I sent a text to my CA, quickly checking on pending tasks on their end, something I had been meaning to for the last couple of days,

Big mistake. He replied back almost instantly; asking for some year-old challan or something.

And now it had suddenly become a conversation, an engagement I had not planned for.

Now, if only I had put my phone to DND or flight mode or focused mode or otherwise ignored his reply, I would have been fine. But having seen the message, it was tough to resist replying. Anyway, it was couple hours later and I found myself on that chain: the response. The follow-up. The confusion. The first call. Further texts. Second call. Looking through old communications in my Gmail for the said challan, trawling through my G-drive. Trying to log on to the MCA site. And failing. All the stuff I had not planned for.

Somewhere during all of this nonsense I noticed a missed call from LT sir. I had been helping him navigate the online parts of his own journey to apply for a fresh passport and today was his appointment at the passport office at 1430. His missed call to me was at 1440. There were a few messages and a photo of something scribbled on the back of an official looking document as well, right after the missed call notification in WhatsApp.

And so I called back. And thus begun the round two of unplanned set of tasks.

By 4:45 PM, I realized most of the day had evaporated. I hadn’t touched my original three tasks. Hadn’t been able to help LT sir. And now finding the challan was somehow also on my to-do list.

I spiraled a bit. Watched YouTube trailers. Late-night show clips. The kind of thing you do when you feel like the day is gone and you’re about to disappear into that familiar downward spiral.

… is not real.

Then I remembered something: No drama. The catastrophe isn’t real.

It helped. Enough to pull me back. So I buckled up and decided to move the needle even just a tiny bit. Even if it was just reading some of my notes for a small piece I wanted to write. So, that’s what I did.

20 mins later, I found myself sitting down with my pen and notebook, writing this draft. By the time I finished, I was back in my groove. The day ended up not feeling like a waste. Quite the opposite in fact: I got couple of other stuff done, including the draft for this post!

Get moving.

This is another bit I have noticed:

Done begets done.

Just like success begets success, or work begets work. It’s weird, but you can complete something totally unrelated to what you meant to do - take out the garbage, review your notes, finish a chapter - and it somehow creates this momentum that carries you into the next thing. You finish that, and the momentum builds.

And that momentum, that magic of action, that is something! Midway writing this draft and the rest of the day had already started to feel longer than it did at 4:45 PM. Of course it wasn’t. But something shifted. You get in that zone - the flow. And it started because I got one small thing done: just reviewed my notes.

In any direction.

It works especially when you’re blocked on something bigger. Stuck this week, this month, stuck in general. Blocked on making the next move.

At times like these, prioritization doesn’t matter. Forget strategy. Forget picking the right thing to do. Just do anything you need to get done. Move. However little.

Because once you move - even if it’s sideways - you start seeing the direction you actually need to go.

The 3 original things I was supposed to do? Two of them are still pending. And my CA still needs his document.

But I am not currently bingeing YouTube videos about best hand-to-hand combat-scenes or whatever. I am currently doing this. And that, it turns out, is enough.

Remember what you did between 2020 and 2022? What actually happened in your life during those years?

I was trying to figure this out the other day and honestly - I got nothing. I mean, I remember being stuck inside. The apartment. The initial weirdness of it all, shock of the lockdown (never having experienced the concept earlier). Or the compulsive doomscrolling we all did in the months that followed.

But after that? Fuzzy. Weirdly fuzzy for something so recent.

I worked from home, ate at home, stayed home. Happily so, I may add; at least, initially. But somewhere in there weeks became months and I just… lost track. There weren’t enough things happening to grab onto. No milestones. Everything staying the same, day after day - in suspended animation, for what seemed like years. And my brain apparently decided none of it was worth remembering.

Which got me thinking about memory. About what sticks and what doesn’t.

There’s this thing psychologists call the “reminiscence bump” - I came across it in a BBC article - where your teens and twenties stay vivid in your memory but then later, as they put it, “life becomes a bit of a blur.”

And I think I’m starting to understand why.

It’s the novelty. Or the lack of it. Novel experiences create these anchors in time - moments that stick because they’re different from everything around them. Like the first time you rode a bike, or first time you met a friend. But when everything’s the same? Your brain just stops paying attention. Stops recording.

And what happens once we have no recollection of extended durations of time? It feels like you lost that time somehow. It’s missing. Sort of like how time seems to speed up as you get older, especially if you’ve settled into patterns you don’t really notice anymore. Suddenly, you find yourself a decade older.

People deal with this in different ways. Some accept it as just how life is once you settle down. Some get really into mindfulness practices, trying to stay present for the mundane. And some buy bike (motorcycles) at 45. Their friends whisper about “midlife crisis”.

I’m starting to think those friends are wrong.

Because here’s what I keep coming back to: we expose kids to everything, right? Music lessons and sports and museums and new foods and new places. Constantly putting them in contexts where they make new friends from different backgrounds. We want them to have diverse experiences. We know it matters - makes them more creative, more adaptable, more themselves. Educational institutes and programs try to one-up their offerring on this diversity parameter.

And then at some point we just … stop. For ourselves, I mean.

We find our favorite restaurant and stick to it. Our weekend routines and comfortable circle of friends. And we protect them. Guard them, even. Over the same menu with the same set of folks.

And then we wonder why the years start melting together.

I did this workshop thing once - blindfolded photography. I know, sounds ridiculous. And it was weird and surprisingly terrifying at first - being led around by a stranger while completely unable to see, trying to take photos of things I couldn’t look at. Just solely on the basis of sounds and smell. You lose your bearings fast when you can’t see. Really fast.

But the even more surprising part was how tender it felt. Being guided by someone. Trusting them completely because you have no choice. The vulnerability of it. And also realising - when the role was reversed - that how difficult it is to just guide someone.

That was maybe three years ago and I can still tell you exactly when it happened. Where we were. What I learned. Layout of the place where we walked about.

But ask me what I did on a random Tuesday a month back - nothing. I don;t remember.

So maybe - and I’m still working this out - maybe we should be doing more of what people dismiss as midlife crisis behavior. Seeking out experiences we haven’t had yet. Not because we’re running from something, but because we’re running toward staying engaged with our own lives. And that’s why - this post on “Pursuit of Interestingness” by Tyagarajan S - really resonated with me. Although, I say, go for it in your life and not just in seeking the next thing to do.

I’m not saying quit everything and and start living like a NatGeo-funded traveler. Though, if you can afford to, why not take an year off and do exactly that? You know you want to!

In my ideal world, there would be scholarships and immersion programs for all age groups designed to offer opportunity to explore “diverse disciplines, develop essential skills, and gain perspectives that will set them apart as they navigate … life beyond” - as a young scholars program proclaims.

But in the meantime, what if we just tried things? This month, do something you’ve never done. Not “go to a new restaurant.” Actually new. Like the pottery class you’ve been curious about. That play you’d normally skip. Or go do a mountaineering course - I have heard good things about BMC from NIM :)

It doesn’t have to be expensive. Doesn’t have to be dramatic. Just different from your usual fare.

I think we stop giving ourselves permission for varied experiences at exactly the moment we need them most. When our baseline of novelty drops - when most things aren’t new anymore because we’ve been around a while - that’s when we should be most intentional about seeking the unfamiliar.

Instead we do the opposite. Build walls around our routines. Call it maturity.

I’m not sure that’s really serving us.

I saw a police van parked up the leafy street on my morning run a couple of days back. Front passenger door open, officer standing outside, seemingly waiting for something. Not a common sight on my jogging street.

As I approached without stopping, I caught his eye and blurted out - “All OK?” - with that universal question gesture. He smiled wide and nodded two quick nods, mumbling something like “all good here.”

That was it. They were just parked overnight on their rounds, about to head out. Nothing dramatic.

But I kept thinking about it. I’d just casually asked a police officer if everything was alright. Usually it’s the other way around - if you’re lucky to come across one of the nicer officers. For a moment, I saw another person instead of a uniform. Approached them as such. And got a genuine human response back.

I’ve found myself doing this more often over the last few years and I’m not entirely sure when it started.

Walking into a doctor’s office, I’ll catch their eye mid-greeting and genuinely ask “how are you?” while they’re still in that passive, barely-acknowledging-your-presence mode. It catches them off-guard. They pause, look up, break out of the doctor-patient autopilot. Just for those few moments, we interact as people. Sets a completely different tone for everything that follows.

I’ve seen the pattern repeat in corporate setups, at army institutes, sometimes even in political settings. Lead with the human first, and the whole interaction shifts.

Here’s where I still struggle though: art galleries when the artist is present.

I find it intimidating. I feel like my appreciation itself is being judged, because I’m still seeing them as “the artist” instead of just this fantastically interesting person who makes things. So I’ll hover near their work, trying to look contemplative, and then leave without saying anything.

But I’m working on it. Now when a photographer or artist is there - especially if they’re by themselves - I try to walk over and mention what caught my eye. More often than not, this leads somewhere interesting. I learn about their process, the behind-the-scenes of approaching galleries, setting it all up. Stuff I’d never know otherwise.

All from just saying hi.

Sometimes it’s not even a role coming in the way of a natural interactions - just the awkwardness around strangers. A couple years back, at a public event, a complete stranger walked over and told me I had a lovely smile. Just like that.

That compliment stayed with me the entire day. Made everything a bit lighter.

I think about that sometimes. How we’ve trained ourselves to maintain this careful distance from strangers. Be polite but not too friendly. Acknowledge but don’t engage. Somewhere along the way, we’ve made even simple human moments feel risky.

Most of our daily interactions are just role-playing games. We interact with The Doctor, The Police Officer, The Shopkeeper, The Artist - these designated characters we’re all performing. It’s efficient, sure. Gets us through the day.

But it’s also exhausting. And lonely.

The fix is stupidly simple: just stop doing it. See the person first. Lead with that.

I’m not saying have deep conversations with everyone. Just acknowledge the human in front of you. Ask them how they are. Compliment something if you genuinely like it. Be briefly, authentically present.

It still feels awkward sometimes. I still hesitate before approaching that artist. But that police officer smiled at me, the doctor paused and actually answered, strangers have made my day brighter with a single sentence.

I think that’s worth a little awkwardness.

So next time, walk over. Say something. Be yourself for a second. See what happens.