EpiphanyMoments

December 6, 1987. The date is etched in my mind like the finale of a Bollywood movie. Alka hugged me tightly, her tears betraying her fears. I tried to put on a brave face, but my insides churned. My first international flight awaited, courtesy of Khaleej Times.  Past check-in and immigration, I boarded an Emirates aircraft—my maiden encounter with airborne luxury.  Landing in Dubai felt like stepping into a mirage. But Dubai in 1987 was a far cry from the glitzy, chrome-and-steel wonderland it is today. The skyline was modest, dominated by the Dubai World Trade Center, the tallest building then, standing at just 33 stories. Roads were narrower, lined with neat but unremarkable residential buildings. Half the population hugged the  meandering historical Creek. It was a city that hadn’t yet fully unfurled its wings, a place on the brink of transformation.  Two Pakistani HR staff greeted me warmly at the airport, their smiles a mixture of hospitality and curiosity. T...

The other day, while scrolling through the digital equivalent of town criers and gossip benches—Social Media—I frowned upon the viral saga of the L&T chief declaring his heroic 90-hour workweek and the no-joy of spending futile time at home staring at your wife when you should be in office sweating over excel sheets and product innovation.  Naturally, the internet responded with all the subtlety of a cat discovering its reflection, mockery flowing faster than misal-pav-chai at a Pune tapri. The uproar made me reflect on a far more pressing question: Is my wife stare-worthy? Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m definitely no 90-hour workweek champion—my definition of hard work includes impatiently waiting for the elevator to arrive from the 16th floor of Nandan Prospera or successfully dodging Goa’s East European tourists while searching for the perfect richaad-stuffed mackeral and prawn curry. But when it comes to staring , the debate around my wife, Alka, could spark an international...

The Earth has been around for 4.5 billion years. To put that in perspective, humanity has only been here for about 300,000 years—basically the equivalent of showing up late to a party that’s been going on forever and immediately spilling drinks everywhere. And yet, we act like we own the place.  Let’s be clear: Earth doesn’t need us. It has survived asteroid collisions, supervolcano eruptions, and ice ages. Entire species have been wiped out, including the dinosaurs, who ruled for 165 million years without inventing a single plastic straw. Meanwhile, we’ve managed to cause massive deforestation, pollute the oceans, and warm the planet significantly—in just a few centuries!  But here’s the thing about Earth: it has a self-cleaning mode. It doesn’t hold grudges, but when you mess with its balance, it hits back. Hard. Storms? Cyclones? Earthquakes? Wildfires? Think of them as Earth’s version of a "spring cleaning." Except this time, we’re the dust being swept out.   Eve...

Goa, once the land of susegaad—that blissful, hammock-swaying, afternoon-snoozing, Kingfisher beer -sipping contentment—has gone through quite the personality crisis. My wife and I hoped for a nostalgic dip into coconut curries, quiet beaches, and maybe even a church bell or two ringing softly in the distance. Instead, I found myself in a DJ's fever dream—Goa, remixed.   Calangute and Baga felt like Las Vegas had a glitter overdose. EDM beats pulsed louder than my heartbeat, and the only thing more neon than the signage were the flaming shots being served at every third shack. Taxi drivers offer "spiritual tours" which involve not temples but a pub crawl ending at a secret rave (that seemed rather well-publicised).   The susegaad of old Goa—where conversations stretched longer than siestas—seemed to be hiding behind overpriced organic cafes selling avocado toast and turmeric lattes. We did try to find peace. But the closest we came was watching a group of North India...

 It was late Saturday afternoon in the courtyard of Siddhivinayak Temple, Dadar, Mumbai. 1988 was just a day old. There we were—two clueless souls, clutching our fears tighter than each other. Ganesha seemed to smile, as if saying, "Good luck, kids." To ensure equity in grace and blessings, we walked down to Our Lady of Salvation Church a few blocks away and beseechingly gazed at the large crucifix on the dome wall, under MF Hussein's stained fibreglass abstract painting. We didn’t know what lay ahead, but we knew one thing—we wanted to grow old together.  Fast forward 37 years. Turns out, we didn’t make a mistake! Life hasn’t exactly been a smooth Bollywood romance—more like an unpredictable indie film with plot twists. But through every laugh, tear, and midnight hospital run, we’ve built something unbreakable.  Nandi, thank you for believing in this gangly reporter with dreams bigger than his wallet. Thank you for making me stronger every day. Here's to the leap we ...