EpiphanyMoments

If Virat Kohli ran a PR & Strategic Communications agency with a 11-member team, it would be less of a boardroom and more of a dressing room—full of high-energy huddles, aggressive pitches, and last-over miracle recoveries.   The agency, Kohli & Co. Crisis Slayers, would operate like an IPL team in the finals—fast-paced, high-pressure, and with a post-match analysis sharper than a bouncer at 150 km/h. Virat, as the captain-CEO, would demand "intent" in every campaign. "Don’t just draft press releases, dominate them!" he’d roar, smashing a stress ball for emphasis.   His team:   - The Opener (SEO & Content Expert): Swings between long-form blogs and snappy tweets, setting the brand tone. Gets sledged by Google algorithms but stays unfazed.   - The Power Hitter (Crisis Communications Lead):Steps in when a client messes up on Twitter—handles trolls like a well-placed cover drive.   - The Spinner (Media Relations Guru): Turns eve...

 I’m a Catholic, but I’m not religious. Or maybe I am—just in a way that would make both a priest and a pandit shake their heads in confusion. I kneel and pray to Jesus with the same sincerity as when I press my palms together and bow before Ganapati. I’ve stood in churches with tears in my eyes and sat through pujas with the same devotion. If there’s a God listening, I’m making sure He, She, or They get my message. Around my neck, I wear a golden cross on a chain and a brown scapular. A symbol of faith, tradition, and, in my case, a little bit of superstition. If layering faiths worked for my ancestors—who probably had a rosary in one pocket and a coconut for an offering in the other—then why should I be any different? But faith is a funny thing. It’s easy to believe in miracles when you’re praying for a job, a house, or a good monsoon. But what about when you’re praying for something bigger? What about when you’re kneeling on the cold floor at 3 a.m., whispering, “God, are you ...

The modern-day gurus who promise to turn your dumpster fire of a life into a LinkedIn-worthy vision board. But do we really need them, or are they just overpriced hype machines with a knack for asking, “How does that make you feel?” while sipping artisanal coffee? I was told to get a Life Coach for Alka who's been through so much since her stroke a few years ago. A Life Coach might help her find some strength and joy again. The coach would pep her up, make her mentally and physically strong.  But let’s be real: Alka’s already the strongest person I know. She’s fought through challenges most of us can’t even begin to imagine. So, instead of a life coach, maybe we just need more laughter, more love, and maybe a little less unsolicited advice. Alka’s not just surviving; she’s teaching me how to live.  But hey, maybe we DO need them. After all, who else is going to convince us that 'manifesting' isn’t just a fancy word for wishful thinking? Life Coaches are the ultimate account...

There comes a time in every content creator’s journey when they begin to wonder if their carefully crafted captions, meticulously edited videos, and well-researched SEO strategies are truly fulfilling.  This is what a young MBA aspirant told me during an interview for a place in a prestigious globally renowned institute.  For this content creator working across media and entertainment platforms, this moment of reflection led to a surprising but well-thought-out decision—to leave behind the world of digital storytelling and pivot to a specialisation in Human Resources (HR) through an MBA.  She blamed it, in part, to AI and said how content creators have nearly become redundant in today's day and age.  I disagreed and said the rise of AI in content creation feels a bit like the invention of photography—painters panicked, but art didn’t die; it evolved. AI can now churn out blogs, videos, and even poetry in seconds, but has it truly killed the content creator? Hardly. A...

In the bustling streets of Pune, a fresh MBA graduate named Rohan decides he doesn’t want to work a 9-to-5 job. Instead, he takes ₹50,000 from his father and sets up a tea stall near Ferguson College. But not just any tea stall—his is called "InfuSION Chai Labs". It has an Instagram page, a minimalist logo, and a tagline: “Revolutionizing the tea-drinking experience with a fusion of tradition and innovation.” Meanwhile, in a quiet village in Bhugaon, just half hour's drive from Rohan's venture, Ramrao, a farmer's son, wakes up at 4 AM, loads fresh vegetables onto his wooden handcart, and begins his daily rounds in the nearby societies and gated communities. He pushes the cart door-to-door, chatting with aunties and taies, negotiating with uncles and kakas, and throwing in an extra mirchi for loyal customers. His marketing strategy? A loud, confident “Tai, aaz pavta ekdum taaza aahe!” (Sister, today's beans are super fresh!). His pricing model? Whatever keeps c...