Unfiltered Musings

 For as long as I can remember, I’ve been questioned, ridiculed, and even accused of being “too lenient” with my child. People raise eyebrows when they see him gaming, watching meaningful videos on YouTube, or diving into tech with a curiosity that’s rare for his age. They whisper about how I took him out of traditional school and chose to homeschool instead. To many, it looks like a mistake. To me, it looks like freedom. Do I doubt myself? Yes, of course. There are nights when I lie awake wondering if I’m making the right choices. Parenting doesn’t come with guarantees, and homeschooling doesn’t either. But here’s what I refuse to do—I will never clip my child’s wings in the name of “playing it safe.” Because freedom, in its truest sense, is what allows him to discover who he really is. Freedom to Find His Calling When people say I’ve given him too much freedom, they forget that it’s this very freedom that helps him discover his own passions. He learns to recognize his strengths, ...

Let’s just say it: If you're a grown man who still thinks that cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, or even picking up groceries is “women’s work,” I don’t even have the words — wait, actually I do: you’re a full-grown, walking disappointment. I don’t care if you're a CEO or a cab driver — if you live in a house, eat food, wear clothes, and shit in a toilet, then you are responsible for maintaining that house. Period. What exactly do you think women are? Personal assistants with breasts? "Oh, but I earn." Great. So does she. And even if she doesn’t, being a stay-at-home mom or homemaker isn’t some chill yoga retreat. It’s unpaid, nonstop labour, 7 days a week, no holidays, no sick leave — and the boss (that’s YOU) barely lifts a damn finger. And don’t even get me started on the “I do help!” tribe. Help? You live here too, bro. You’re not “helping,” you’re just finally doing the bare minimum after months of ignoring the pile of dishes like it's invisible. You ...

 People often say it hurts to see others succeed — especially when they believe they have the same capabilities but aren’t “winning.” I don’t feel that way. Not even close. I don’t feel the need to measure my life against someone else’s timeline. I don’t look at someone doing well and think, “Why not me?” I think, “Good for them.” That’s it. No insecurity. No secret jealousy. Just peace. Because I’m not in a race. I don’t wake up trying to “beat” anyone. I don’t want their life. I want mine — whatever that looks like. For me, it’s not about winning or losing. It’s about living. Creating. Experiencing. Learning. And doing it all on my terms. I believe in energy. In the law of attraction. In the idea that what I focus on, I attract. So if I sit in jealousy, I attract lack. If I celebrate others, I stay aligned with abundance. I take full ownership of where I am. The good, the bad, the detours — it’s all mine. And I’m not ashamed of any of it. I’m not here to chase validation or ...

 "Fame won’t love you." The first time I heard this line from Sia"s song, it hit like a truth most people spend a lifetime avoiding. Because no matter how many people scream your name or call you an inspiration — the applause isn’t affection. It’s noise. Temporary. Fickle. Loud when you win. Silent when you fall. Fame is not love. It’s a crowd that claps for your highlight reel and disappears during your lowest scenes. You could do everything right. Bleed for your work. Live with integrity. And still — one moment, one perception, one viral outrage — and suddenly, you’re the villain. And sometimes? You don’t even need to make a mistake. Your existence itself can make people feel victimised. Your success. Your peace. Your audacity to live without begging for approval — it’s enough to trigger the insecurities of those waiting to hate you. Fame will never protect you. It doesn’t stand up for you. It doesn’t remember the thousands of things you got right — only th...

I need to be clear: I do not support Pakistan. I do not turn a blind eye to the terrorism that has grown from its soil. India has lost too many innocent lives to attacks planned and supported across that border. I’ve seen the faces of victims. I’ve seen the rage, the heartbreak. I carry it too. So no, I do not support a country that shelters those who plant bombs and glorify hatred. But here’s the thing: I can hate terrorism without hating every child born in the wrong place. I can be loyal to my country, and still human enough to admit that no child should pay for their passport . Because terrorism is taught — not born. And if we allow our anger to justify the deaths of innocent children, then we begin to become what we once feared. So no — I do not support Pakistan. But I will never cheer for the death of a child, anywhere. Not in Gaza. Not in Israel. Not even in the country I don’t trust. Because the moment we decide that some children are worth less than others — w...

  Summer vacation has officially ended. And across Indian households, one sound has replaced the chaos: Silence. Not the scary horror-movie kind. The peaceful, sacred, chai-sipping, “finally I can hear my own thoughts” kind. The First Day of School: The Real Diwali for Parents That first morning, we pack tiffins like contestants on MasterChef, iron uniforms like army generals, and send our kids off with emotional hugs and secretly gleeful hearts. Outside: “Beta, take care. All the best for your new class.” Inside: “GO, child. Be educated. Go and don’t come back till 2 PM.” Post Drop-Off Vibes: Nirvana Within 5 minutes of the school van leaving, this is what happens at home: TV volume reduced to zero Kitchen cleaned without stepping over Legos Toilet break in peace. With the door closed. And the sweet sound of NOTHINGNESS. If you're a parent who survived summer, this isn't just a moment. This is rebirth. The Mixed Feelings Yes, we miss their little voices...