Saturday, November 29, 2025

Unexpected end to a stormy night

(This post is part of the weekly Blogchatter Blog Hop. The prompt: A taxi driver picks up a ghostly passenger in a storm who leads them towards an unfinished business. This is a work of fiction.)

The city had been receiving incessant rain for a few days now, and today, there was a storm. Never had the wind howled like this. 

The impact was terrible. Streetlights were twisted into grotesque shapes, trees uprooted, low-lying areas flooded, and houses inundated. 

The downpour and flooding had already claimed a few lives so far. This was not the sort of rain the city was used to at this time of year — a clear-cut and catastrophic reminder of the wrath of climate change.

MYSTERIOUS APPARITION

Caught in all this, quite unexpectedly, was Chris, a middle-aged taxi driver. Driving at night was not unusual for him, but the severity of the storm and the flooded roads certainly were. The sheets of rain splashing on the windscreen made driving a huge challenge, so much so that Chris was contemplating pulling over to a dry stretch until the storm passed and the rain abated. Just then, he saw someone apparently hailing him.

He couldn’t ignore what seemed like a mysterious apparition. In the low-beam of the car, the figure looked truly ghostly. Chris wasn’t someone who believed in ghosts. Pragmatic and realistic as he was, he thought this must be someone in utter distress needing help.

His professional instincts and genuine human kindness made him pull over. However, his heart was thumping, as he remembered someone once telling him, “Don’t be scared of ghosts; it’s people you need to be scared of.”

Chris cautiously rolled down the passenger window. The man stated his destination and asked if he could take him. Chris noticed that the man’s raincoat was not just soggy but had mud all over. He had a terrifying look about him, with a seemingly fresh scar on his face. Though Chris was scared, he gestured to the man to enter.

The stranger removed his raincoat and dumped it on the floor of the car before settling onto the passenger seat. Just then, Chris saw something more terrifying: there were what looked like blood stains on his trousers and shirt. Wondering what lay ahead, he began driving towards the destination.

RACING AGAINST TIME

“Thank you,” the stranger whispered gratefully. He introduced himself as Stephen, or ‘Steph,’ and Chris returned the introduction. 

While still focussed on the road ahead, Chris, through the corner of his eye, saw something ominously metallic on the stranger, resembling a small knife. He hesitantly turned his head to get a better look, but it seemed to have slipped under his shirt.

“We should get to safety as soon as possible,” Chris muttered. But Steph corrected him. “Safe or not, we need to get to Ann’s house. I must meet her within the next hour,” Steph said, checking his watch with desperate urgency. “I must deliver a signed document for a crucial business deal. The deadline expires at midnight.”

Chris didn't press for details. The unsettling combination of the man’s panic, his appearance, and the presumed weapon kept him silent. His sole aim was simply to drop the unsettling passenger and get home.

THE DESTINATION, FINALLY

As they drove, the storm seemed to be behind them and the rain had eased. In about thirty minutes, they reached the destination: a modest but well-kept suburban house.

They rang the bell. The woman inside, Ann, peered through the window but clearly did not recognise the desperate figure of Steph. In fact, she was frightened, and, not surprisingly, she didn’t open the door.

Steph thought of calling Ann on his mobile, but the networks were down thanks to the storm. Maybe he could have just shouted out who he was, and that would have convinced Ann. But that thought simply didn’t occur to Steph, who was overcome with the frustration of the possibility of not being able to deliver the document in time, resulting in all his efforts being wasted.

FLICKER OF HOPE

Just then, Ann caught a glimpse of Chris standing slightly away from Steph. His face seemed familiar to her. But she couldn’t recollect when or where she had seen him. That prompted her to open the window slightly so she could speak to the two men.

“Who are you?” she asked. Steph identified himself. Ann understood who he was but remained deeply wary of his terrifying appearance.

After he provided necessary details about the business deal and the vital document, her fear was finally replaced by professional urgency. She opened the door, and the two men got inside.

But before getting into any business conversation, Ann, who noticed the red stains and the scar on his face, asked him, “What happened? Why on earth do you look like that?”

“I will explain it all later, Ann,” Steph replied, already ushering her towards a table to finalise the crucial business papers. They both settled down and began discussing the nitty-gritty of the deal.

It was not just Ann who thought Chris looked familiar. He, too, felt that he had seen Ann somewhere, but couldn’t place her.

UNFORESEEN OFFER

Once the business deal was done, Ann turned to Chris. “I am Chris Smith,” he said. As he introduced himself to her, the veil of mystery lifted slowly.

“Now, I remember,” said Ann. “A year ago, I was looking for a driver, and you had applied. But you were just a few hours too late, and I had already recruited someone else.”

“Exactly,” Chris nodded in agreement. He looked at his watch. “It’s already too late; I need to get home before the next round of rain starts pouring.”

But Ann gestured to him to remain seated. With a sombre expression on her face, she said, “That man, whom I had hired, was tragically among those who lost their lives in the heavy flooding here over the past couple of days.”

She looked at Chris straight in his eyes. “I am now looking for a replacement, Mr. Smith. It’s a respectable, well-paid position. Are you interested?”

Chris was taken totally unawares. It took a while for the whole thing to sink in. He knew it was a very prized opportunity, much better than running the taxi all across the town ferrying people — sometimes ghostly men like Steph!

After a brief contemplation, Chris muttered a yes, totally convinced by the potential of a stable and better future. It would have been downright discourteous if he left immediately. A grateful Chris decided to stay for a while longer. Over cups of warm tea, the three chatted away.

With two business deals sealed, the topic was obviously the weather, the destruction, and the grim future of those severely affected.

NEEDLESS SCARE

Now relaxed and relieved, Chris finally mustered the courage to address his fears. “Steph,” Chris asked, trying to sound casual, “You have a knife on you?”

Steph looked genuinely surprised. “A knife? I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”

Chris described the object he thought he saw. Steph said gently, smiling, “Yes, it was just that, a thought!”

Now, Chris pointed to the dried red marks on the clothes. “And these… are those blood stains?”

Steph laughed. “Oh, no! These are paint marks! I was at a client’s flat and was trying to get it all done before the weather turned rough so that I could be here well in time with the document. And in the hurry and carelessness, I got some of that on my clothes. The damp weather just gave them an ominous look. That’s all.”

Chris felt an absurd wave of relief. The terrifying look, the muddy raincoat, the blood, the knife, the fear, the worry; all were just needless! The ghostly passenger was merely a frazzled businessman who had nearly ruined a precious and major deal.

The catastrophic storm was unbelievably troublesome but had a serendipitous twist. A lucrative business deal for Steph and a life-changing job for Chris, who dared to pick up "the phantom of the night".

Friday, November 21, 2025

Looking back, moving forward

This post is part of
Blogchatter Bloghop
Ageing to me is like seeing through the rear-view mirror while making course corrections in our journey. 

The more one travels (meaning, the more we age), the greater the distance covered — and that distance is filled with experiences of every kind: good, bad, and everything in between. And we learn from all our experiences. 

It's like a teacher — but only if we’re willing to pause, introspect, and learn, as we move forward.

CROSSROADS AND CHOICES

Over the years, I’ve stood at many crossroads, moments where I had to pause, think, and choose one path among many. My life might have been very different had I taken another route. But that is true for everyone, is it not? Each decision shapes the journey, and ageing is simply the accumulation of those choices.

THE NOSTALGIA TRAP

With age, one tends to become cynical about the present and glorify the past. Don't we hear some people say, “During my days, things were much better. Everything has deteriorated now.” They dismiss youngsters and criticise everything that is new.

I consciously avoid falling into this trap. I may not agree with everything happening today. But it's not for me to give unsolicited advices and dictate what should be and should not be done. I must now let the young and smarter folks lead the way. I definitely don't want to look like a square peg in a round hole. But at the same time, if someone wants my suggestions or active involvement in something, I am always there.

LETTING GO OF FOMO

FOMO (fear of missing out) wasn’t an abbreviation back then, but it certainly existed. I always wanted to be in the know. In the media career I chose, it mattered to know something of mostly everything. If I didn’t, I felt upset.

Now, I’m happy to let go. I don’t mind if I don’t know something. 

Still, old habits die hard. Chasing news was a childhood instinct, it became my profession, and it continues even now — though not with the same passion.

LEARNING TO SLOW DOWN

More than 20 years ago, on
the Marina Beach in Chennai.
People say with age, one mellows down. But I was always calm and relaxed. With age probably I am slowing down. It doesn’t come naturally to me, but I’m consciously trying. My job once demanded speed, urgency, with deadlines staring at me all the time. Now, there are fewer deadlines, and plenty of time to meet them. Slowing down feels less like a loss and more like a gift.

A COMPANION

Ageing, I don't think is about years piling up. It’s about, as I mentioned earlier, learning from the rear-view mirror while keeping my eyes on the road ahead. It is more like a companion that nudges me to adapt, to understand, and to keep moving forward, probably with a little more patience.

Thursday, November 6, 2025

Quiet generosity in a moment of grief

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the tenth and last one. The prompt: What’s a small act of kindness you’ll never forget?) 

It was 29 November 2016. My father passed away around 4 am.

Since he passed away at home, we called an ambulance and took him to a nearby hospital, where it was confirmed with an ECG.

A large number of his former students based in Bengaluru, several friends and neighbours from our apartment complex, and a few relatives in the city came home to pay their respects.

The cremation was around 1 pm.

Even though those were pre-UPI days, I’d already begun avoiding cash as far as possible. I preferred using debit or credit cards, so I rarely kept much cash at home.

(UPI — Unified Payments Interface — is a real-time digital payment system that enables instant, inter-bank fund transfers through a single mobile app. Hugely popular now, it’s overtaken Visa and Mastercard in transaction volumes.)

Exactly three weeks before that day, Prime Minister Narendra Modi had announced the demonetisation of all ₹500 and ₹1,000 banknotes. New ₹500 and ₹2,000 notes were issued in exchange, but the transition was anything but smooth.

I needed cash — for the ambulance, for those helping with funeral arrangements, and for payments at the crematorium.

Normally, I’d have just walked to one of the five nearby ATMs. But thanks to demonetisation, none had the new notes. Even those that did had long queues, and cash ran out quickly.

One of my friends in the apartment complex heard about my situation and quietly handed me some cash. A few others — people I barely knew — did the same. I made sure to note down in my diary who gave how much, lest I forget.

It was a remarkable gesture. In the midst of grief and logistical chaos, these neighbours — some practically strangers — stepped in without hesitation. Their kindness and generosity moved me deeply.

About a week later, my wife and I visited each of those friends to return the cash they had so kindly lent us. Their spontaneous act only reinforced our faith in humanity. 


Wednesday, November 5, 2025

The teacher I never expected

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the ninth one. The prompt: Who has been the most unexpected teacher in your life?)

Consider these everyday moments: a train or flight delayed without explanation; a grocery store that’s run out of everything you came for; a cab driver, clearly having a rough day, snapping at you with unexpected rudeness.

We don’t sign up for these situations. They arrive uninvited, unannounced. And our first instinct is often to protest, raise our voice, or snap back.

But over time, we realise — reacting doesn’t ease the discomfort. The situation remains unchanged.

Looking back, I see that adversity has been my most unexpected teacher.

I remember my father’s words: “If we can adjust to small problems, it becomes easier to deal with the bigger ones.”

In other words, if I can manage a 15-minute delay with grace, I’m better prepared for a half-hour wait. And if I can handle that, then even an hour-long disruption becomes bearable.

Adversity has nudged me to think differently, to act differently.

It has taught me to look inward — to cultivate patience, resilience, and the ability to pause before reacting.

It has shown me that waiting for the world to bend to my convenience is futile. Instead, I must adapt, or find creative ways to work around what is.

It has reminded me that not everything is within my control. Some problems I can solve; others, I must learn to live with.

And perhaps most importantly, adversity has taught me not to fear taking a step back — because sometimes, that retreat opens the path to two steps forward, in a direction I hadn’t considered before.

Tuesday, November 4, 2025

A goodbye that still moves me


(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the eighth one. The prompt: What’s the hardest goodbye you’ve ever said, and what did it teach you?)

I was in the seventh grade at Sainik School, Kazhakootam, Kerala, when I crossed paths with our Headmaster, Major Prakash Singh. 

After I greeted him, he looked me up and down and said in his deep, commanding voice, “Boys of your age shouldn’t be walking lazily like this. You should be running. Don’t you go for a run every day?”

I wanted to reply, “Only if we have to during morning PT (physical training),” but I hesitated.

Before I could say anything, he added, “Run every day, morning and evening, okay? Only then will you become healthy and smart.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, unsure why he said that. Perhaps it was because I was lean and didn’t exactly look ‘smart’ in the conventional sense.

But his words stuck. From the very next day, I began running — every morning when PT didn’t include it, and every evening when there were no games. Gradually, it became a habit. Even on Sundays, holidays, and vacations, I would run for 30 to 45 minutes.

FROM SPRINT TO STRIDE

I eventually made it to the school athletics team. Initially, my stride suited the 100 and 200 metres. But in the 11th grade, our PT instructor, R.G. Pillai Sir, observed that my gait was better suited for long-distance events. So I shifted to the 1000, 2000, and 5000 metres, and cross-country races too.

Those were golden days. I loved running. The sense of accomplishment after a run was unmatched. What I cherished most were the beads of sweat dripping from the tip of my nose and earlobes!

Running taught me patience, endurance, and resilience. It also taught me humility: that I wouldn’t always win, and that there were others better than me. And that was okay.

LIFE'S CHANGING PACE

As I entered the working world, priorities shifted. Running became less about competition and more about staying fit. But the habit stayed with me; until three years ago, when I developed swelling and pain in my left knee. I couldn’t bend it or climb stairs. The diagnosis: wear and tear, Grade 1. (Grade 4, I was told, could be excruciating.)

I underwent physiotherapy and Ayurvedic treatment. The pain and swelling subsided. I was back to normal.

After I retired in April this year, I had more time and I slowly resumed running; though not with the same intensity or duration as before. But a couple of months ago, the pain returned. The swelling was back. I stopped running and returned to the Ayurvedic physician.

There’s been significant improvement since. I can bend my knee again, though climbing stairs still puts some stress on it.

A GOODBYE I DIDN'T WANT TO SAY

And then came the verdict: avoid running.

That was a shock. If I had been told, “Stop running until the knee heals,” it would’ve been easier to accept. But this felt final. Even if my knee recovers, running again might risk further damage.

It’s a goodbye I didn’t want to say. But I’m slowly reconciling with this new, inevitable reality: even if the mind is willing, the body may not be. Once, I pushed limits and raised the bar. Now, I respect boundaries, and if needed, I lower the bar, with grace.

WHAT RUNNING LEAVES BEHIND

This transition has taught me that time brings change, whether we’re ready or not. I’ve learnt to listen to my body, to accept its signals, and to explore alternatives like brisk walking.

Yet, the energy that running gave me hasn’t left. It’s no longer in my legs, it’s in my mind. And that’s what keeps me going. 

I may not be running anymore, but my ability to find strength, joy, and movement in life is something age can't take away.

Monday, November 3, 2025

A World Cup win that changed everything


Somewhere at the back of the mind, there was this quiet, stubborn gut feeling: the Indian girls were going to do it. But for fear of jinxing it, the thought always remained unspoken.

What unfolded at D.Y. Patil Stadium in Navi Mumbai last night was nothing short of electric. A second consecutive cracker of a match. The first, of course, was India’s stunning win over the mighty Australians on Thursday.

And then, one minute past midnight, Harmanpreet Kaur leapt into the air to take a catch that sealed it. The Women's World Cup had a new champion. Finally. After heartbreaks in 2005 and 2017, the cup was ours.

This video put out by the official broadcaster in India Star Sports says it all:

A BATTLE WORTHY OF CHAMPIONS

India had come close before — twice, in fact — only to fall at the final hurdle. This time, both Australia and South Africa played their hearts out, making India’s triumph all the more sweet.

When India couldn’t cross 300 yesterday, the mood dipped. That nagging memory of South Africa snatching victory in the league match crept in. 

But what made this final unforgettable wasn’t just the scoreboard — it was the sheer grit on display. Honestly, you don’t often see this kind of raw determination even in the men’s matches.

MORE THAN JUST TROPHY

This win isn’t just about lifting a cup. It’s about lifting a sport, a generation, a dream.

Until not too long ago, many hadn’t even known there was a women’s cricket team! No live telecasts. No proper coaching. No big stadiums. No attention.

BBC World Service Test Match Special commentator Henry Moeran put out a telling tweet yesterday. Here it is:

In 2017, when India beat Australia to reach the final, something shifted. The country began to notice. It cracked the door open. Since then, the changes have been real. Pay parity with the men; better travel and stay arrangements; big sponsors; and then came the Women's Premier League — a game-changer in every sense.

LIGHTING THE PATH FOR MILLIONS

The WPL didn’t just spotlight women’s cricket — it flung the doors wide open for girls from small towns and villages to dream big; to play; to be seen; to be celebrated.

What we witnessed last night wasn’t just a win. It was both a culmination as well as a continuation; and a promise. And somewhere in the crowd, or maybe watching on a tiny screen in some remote village, a young girl must have seen herself in blue — and believed.

The skill that shaped my identity

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the seventh one. The prompt: Write about a skill you’ve learned outside of school that shaped your identity.)

When we talk about skills, they broadly fall into two categories: hard skills and soft skills.

Hard skills relate to our area of specialization: the work we do for a living, or the expertise we build over a career. Soft skills, on the other hand, are tied to our behaviour and personality: sincerity, commitment, diligence, discipline, conscientiousness, patience, empathy, team spirit, and so on.

Many of my hard skills were picked up during my school years: my love for language, clarity in expression, and brevity in communication, for instance.

EQUANIMITY

The one skill I learned outside of school that truly shaped my identity is a soft skill: equanimity.

According to the Collins Dictionary, “Equanimity is a calm state of mind and attitude to life, so that you never lose your temper or become upset.”

This wasn’t something I encountered in school or college. It wasn’t part of any syllabus. In fact, the spirit of school life is often about raising the bar, pushing limits, being proactive, taking initiative, striving to excel, and doing our best to get ahead.

I first heard about equanimity from my father, who was a teacher. He had cultivated this skill over time. He never reacted abruptly, to good news or bad. His emotions were measured, his responses restrained. He often spoke about the importance of developing this quality.

Equanimity is about being cool-headed rather than reacting impulsively. It’s about being slightly detached, not just from material things, but also from one’s own thoughts and feelings. It’s the ability to observe them as temporary mental events, which in turn helps reduce stress.

It’s not an easy skill to develop, especially given the realities of the world we live in; a world driven by a plethora of often misplaced priorities. The challenge lies in steering clear of external expectations and aligning our own priorities with what truly matters. Still, it’s a goal I’ve always worked towards.

HOW IT HELPED ME

In my over three-and-a-half decades in the media, equanimity has helped me enormously. Journalism is inherently stressful; it demands speed, precision, and emotional resilience. In the newsroom, where deadlines clash with breaking news and egos flare under pressure, equanimity is often the only recourse.

When people around me got worked up, equanimity helped me pause before reacting, listen before judging, and lead without dominating. It allowed me to give space to others; and in doing so, to distance myself from their anxiety. Not easy, but necessary.

One aspect of equanimity is detachment. And that’s precisely what journalism requires; where clarity must take precedence over bias. Equanimity helped me separate urgency from panic, and truth from noise.

While managing my team, I always tried to de-escalate tension and make decisions I believed were fair. Often, I delayed judgment, and sometimes even action, especially in emotionally charged situations.

ITS BIGGEST REWARD

All this may sound noble, even virtuous. But take it from me: it’s not easy to practise. As I mentioned earlier, the expectations placed on us by the world around us often run counter to what equanimity demands.

So much so that one might even feel it’s a disadvantage. But I’m glad I’ve chosen to value emotional well-being above all else.

The greatest reward of equanimity is a sense of inner peace; and the ability to recover quickly from upsets.

It’s worth it.