Today, as part of my birthday resolution, I decided to take a break from Instagram and Facebook. While I stopped using Facebook years ago, Instagram has remained a part of my daily routine—mostly for sharing workout updates, exchanging memes with friends, and occasionally scrolling through reels. The decision wasn’t driven by frustration or a dramatic need to disconnect, but rather by curiosity. I want to observe how my habits, focus, and time allocation change without the passive consumption of social media. The goal is to see how long I can go without it and whether the absence makes any noticeable difference.

The first thing I expect to change is the automatic scrolling. Normally, idle moments—waiting for a meeting, standing in line, or taking a short break—default to Instagram. Without it, I anticipate filling those gaps differently: perhaps reading, observing my surroundings, or just letting my mind rest. I’ve noticed in the past how even brief social media checks can fracture concentration, making it harder to return to tasks with clarity. If that distraction is removed, I wonder whether my focus will improve or if I’ll simply replace it with another form of stimulation.

Another aspect I’m watching is how I share updates. Posting workouts on Instagram has become a habit, almost like a public accountability tool. Without it, I’ll need to see whether my motivation to exercise changes when the validation of likes is gone. Similarly, memes and articles I would have shared immediately will now either be saved or left unshared. I suspect that without the instant gratification of engagement, my interactions will become more intentional. The reflex to document and broadcast might fade, making way for more deliberate communication.

This experiment starts today, and I have no fixed endpoint in mind. It’s not a permanent departure, just an observation. I’m curious to see whether the absence of these platforms leads to meaningful shifts in my daily life—less distraction, more presence, or even just a clearer sense of why I used them in the first place. Whether the break lasts a week or longer, the act of stepping back itself feels like a worthwhile exercise in awareness.

Today is my birthday, and I am spending it with my family. My parents have traveled from Jaipur to be here with me and Swati, which makes the day more meaningful. Birthdays are often seen as personal milestones, but for me, they are an opportunity to reflect on the people who have shaped my life. Having my parents around brings a sense of comfort and familiarity, something that is harder to come by as life gets busier. We stepped out for a family dinner, a simple yet meaningful way to mark the occasion. There is something about sharing a meal that makes moments feel more significant, especially when surrounded by those who matter most.

Gratitude is the prevailing emotion today. Birthdays tend to prompt reflection, and this year, I find myself appreciating the small things—health, stability, and the ability to spend time with loved ones. It is easy to get caught up in daily routines and forget how much these ordinary moments matter. Celebrating with family reinforces how fortunate I am to have their support. Birthdays are also a reminder of how quickly time passes, making it important to acknowledge the present rather than always looking ahead.

I want to thank everyone who has reached out with birthday wishes. Messages from friends, colleagues, and acquaintances add warmth to the day. Even a brief note can make a difference, and I appreciate the time people took to send their thoughts. Birthdays are one of those rare occasions when connections feel more intentional, and I do not take that for granted. It is also a good reminder to reciprocate the same kindness when others celebrate their milestones.

As the day winds down, I am left with a quiet sense of contentment. Birthdays do not need grand gestures to feel special. Sometimes, it is the presence of family, a good meal, and the recognition of another year lived that makes it worthwhile. Today was simple, but it was exactly what I needed. Here’s to another year, hopefully filled with more learning, growth, and meaningful moments.

My AirPods Pro were a gift from my sister-in-law, and initially, they lived up to Apple’s reputation—reliable noise cancellation, good sound quality, and a comfortable fit. But recently, the left AirPod developed a shrill, high-pitched noise, especially when I run. The sound is so sharp that it renders the earbud unusable. I’ve tried all the standard fixes: resetting them, cleaning the contacts, adjusting the ear tips, and switching between noise cancellation modes. Nothing worked. It’s frustrating when a premium product, especially one given as a thoughtful gift, fails unexpectedly.

The issue isn’t just the inconvenience—it’s the lack of durability. I didn’t expect these to last forever, but I assumed they’d hold up longer than they have. For a high-end product, the AirPods Pro should offer better longevity. I’ve used cheaper earbuds (Samsung Earbuds) that lasted years without such problems. The fact that this happened without any physical damage or misuse makes it worse. It feels like a manufacturing defect, something that shouldn’t happen with Apple’s reputation for quality.

I reached out to Apple Support, hoping for a quick resolution or replacement. Their response followed the usual script—troubleshooting steps I’d already tried, then a suggestion to visit an Apple Store. While they weren’t unhelpful, I was surprised that a premium product would fail this soon and that the support process didn’t feel more accommodating. If Apple positions itself as a leader in tech, its products should last, and its service should be more proactive when they don’t.

This experience has made me hesitant about future Apple audio purchases. When a product fails prematurely, especially one that was a gift, it’s disappointing. I’ll likely look at other brands for my next pair of earbuds, prioritizing durability and customer service. For now, I’m left with an expensive pair of AirPods where only one side works properly—a letdown for what was supposed to be a high-quality device.

Summer nights bring a certain stillness that makes late walks after dinner particularly refreshing. The heat of the day has faded, and the streets are quieter, making it easier to move without the usual distractions. Leaving the phone and earphones behind forces a different kind of awareness. Instead of music or podcasts filling the silence, the sounds of the neighborhood take over—conversations from balconies, the occasional bark of a dog, or the rustle of leaves in a light breeze. There is no agenda, no need to rush, just the simple act of walking with no destination in mind.

The absence of a screen or headphones shifts attention outward. Without the constant pull of notifications, the mind settles into observing rather than reacting. People sitting outside their homes, children playing despite the late hour, street vendors packing up—these small scenes become noticeable in a way they usually aren’t. Walking without distractions creates space for unstructured thought, letting the mind process the day without forcing it. The rhythm of steps becomes a kind of meditation, steady and predictable, allowing thoughts to surface and pass without urgency.

There is also a practical benefit to walking late in the evening. After a full meal, movement aids digestion, and the cooler air makes the effort minimal. Unlike daytime walks, where the sun can be oppressive, the night offers relief. The body adjusts to the slower pace, muscles loosening, breath steadying. A shower afterward washes away the lingering heat of the day, making sleep come easier. The combination of movement, fresh air, and a clear head sets the stage for better rest, something that is often hard to achieve during busy weeks.

Late night walks are not about exploration or exercise in the traditional sense. They are a way to disconnect from the noise of the day and reconnect with the immediate surroundings. The streets look different at night—less crowded, less hurried. There is no need to fill the time with anything other than walking. The simplicity of it is what makes it valuable. No special equipment, no strict routine, just an open-ended pause before the day ends. It’s a habit that costs nothing but offers a quiet kind of clarity.

A recent show by Kunal Kamra sparked outrage among certain groups, leading to debates about free speech and the role of comedy in political discourse. Kamra, known for his sharp wit and politically charged humor, has always been vocal about his opinions, often targeting those in power. His latest set, which was recorded and circulated online, drew criticism for its unapologetic commentary on current political figures and ideologies. The backlash was swift, with some calling for censorship, while others defended his right to express dissent through comedy. Having attended a version of the same set in Gurgaon—unrecorded and not uploaded to YouTube—I can confirm that the content was consistent with his usual style: fearless, direct, and unsparing in its critique.

Kunal Kamra’s comedy is not for those who prefer neutral or apolitical humor. His sets are deliberate in their messaging, blending satire with pointed observations about governance, media bias, and societal hypocrisy. Unlike many comedians who avoid controversy by sticking to safe topics, Kamra leans into it, making his work both refreshing and polarizing. The outrage against him is unsurprising, given how divisive political humor can be in today’s climate. However, the intensity of the backlash also highlights why his voice is necessary. In a space where self-censorship is common, Kamra’s refusal to soften his stance sets him apart.

The criticism against Kamra often centers on the idea that comedians should remain neutral or avoid “offending” certain groups. But comedy has always been a tool for dissent, from George Carlin to Dave Chappelle. The expectation that humor should be harmless ignores its historical role in challenging power structures. Kamra’s work follows this tradition, using comedy to question authority rather than simply entertain. While not everyone will agree with his views, the attempt to silence him is more concerning than the jokes themselves. Free expression in comedy allows for necessary conversations, even—or especially—when they make people uncomfortable.

As the outrage settles, the larger question remains: should comedians temper their material to avoid backlash, or is there value in unfiltered, opinionated humor? Kunal Kamra’s approach may not be universally liked, but it serves an important function in a democracy. We need more comedians who are willing to take risks, speak truth to power, and provoke thought, even at the cost of controversy. The alternative—a sanitized, inoffensive comedy scene—would be far less meaningful. The outrage will pass, but the need for fearless voices in comedy will not.

During a recent conversation with a friend, we discussed the effectiveness of LinkedIn as a platform for professional growth. He argued that while many users post consistently to build authority, generate sales, or become Top Voices, the actual outcomes often fall short. The content produced primarily benefits LinkedIn by supplying free, user-generated material, but the return for individuals—whether in sales, hiring, or influence—seems minimal. His perspective was that despite the effort invested, the platform’s algorithm and saturation dilute the impact, making it difficult for most to achieve meaningful results.

LinkedIn has evolved into a space where professional branding and visibility are prioritized, but the tangible benefits remain questionable. Many users post with clear objectives—networking, lead generation, or recruitment—yet the conversion rates are often low. The platform thrives on engagement, rewarding viral content over substantive discussions, which shifts focus from quality to quantity. My friend noted that even after months of consistent posting, his team saw little improvement in hiring quality candidates or driving sales. The disconnect between effort and outcome suggests that LinkedIn’s value may be overstated for certain professional goals.

The discussion also touched on the performative nature of LinkedIn content. Posts are frequently tailored to fit trending formats—humble brags, motivational anecdotes, or industry hot takes—rather than fostering genuine dialogue. This creates an environment where authenticity is secondary to visibility, and the pressure to conform reduces the platform’s utility. While some users do benefit from increased reach or opportunities, they are often outliers. For most, the time spent crafting posts could be better allocated to direct outreach, skill development, or other channels with higher ROI.

Ultimately, the conversation highlighted the need for a more critical approach to LinkedIn. Rather than treating it as a primary tool for professional growth, it may be more effective as a supplementary channel. The platform’s strengths—networking and industry updates—are still valuable, but expectations should be tempered. Not every post will lead to a business deal or career breakthrough, and that’s okay. Recognizing LinkedIn’s limitations can help users allocate their time more strategically, focusing on actions that yield measurable results rather than chasing algorithmic approval.

Summer has a way of drying up the world around us. The flowers that bloomed so effortlessly in spring now struggle under the heat, their colors fading, their petals curling at the edges. A few days ago, I stopped to smell the roses near my apartment, knowing it might be the last time before the season changes. The scent was faint but still present, a reminder of what freshness feels like before the relentless sun takes over completely. The landscaping in my society is well-maintained, with flower beds that cycle through different blooms as the months pass.

The shift in flora during summer is noticeable. Plants that thrived in cooler weather now wilt, while hardier species take their place. The soil cracks under the heat, and even the most resilient flowers require more water to survive. I’ve seen this pattern repeat every year, yet it still feels abrupt when the first few blooms disappear. The change isn’t just visual—it’s in the air. The scent of flowers becomes scarce, replaced by the dry, dusty smell of warm pavement and parched earth. For now, though, there’s still a hint of fragrance if you pause long enough to notice.

I don’t often stop to appreciate these small details, but when I do, it’s usually because I sense an ending. The flowers won’t last much longer, and neither will this particular phase of the year. Soon, the monsoons will arrive, bringing a different kind of life to the plants. But for now, summer dominates, reshaping the environment in its own way. The flowers that remain are survivors, adapting to the heat, their presence a brief respite before the next seasonal shift.

If you have flowers where you live, take a moment to enjoy them. The season moves quickly, and what’s here today might be gone tomorrow. The roses in my society won’t stay this way forever—soon, they’ll be replaced by something else, something that can withstand the coming months. Until then, I’ll keep noticing them, knowing that each time might be the last for a while.

I visited Pahalgam in 2007 with my family. It was a quiet, serene place, nestled in the Himalayas with lush green meadows and the Lidder River flowing gently through it. The town was a refuge from the noise of cities, a place where families, honeymooners, and adventure seekers gathered without fear. We stayed in a small wooden cabin, took pony rides to Betaab Valley, and drank kahwa while watching shepherds guide their flocks. There was no hint of unrest, no visible tension—just the calm beauty of Kashmir that so many travelers cherish.

Yesterday's terrorist attack in Pahalgam is a grim reminder of how fragile peace can be. Innocent lives were lost, families shattered, and a place once known for its tranquility has again been stained with violence. It is despicable—targeting tourists and locals who have no part in political conflicts. The brutality of such acts is not just an attack on individuals but on the very idea of coexistence. Kashmir has suffered too much, and every such incident pushes back the possibility of normalcy, leaving scars that take generations to heal.

I remember the shopkeepers smiling as they sold handmade carpets, the children playing near the riverbanks, and the quiet hum of daily life uninterrupted by fear. Today, those memories are overshadowed by the knowledge that terror can strike anywhere, even in places that feel untouched by the world’s chaos. It is a stark reminder that no region is immune to extremism, and the cost is always borne by ordinary people who just want to live without looking over their shoulders.

May the departed souls find peace, and may those responsible face justice. The only way forward is to reject violence entirely, to rebuild trust, and to ensure that places like Pahalgam remain safe for travelers and locals alike. The people of Kashmir deserve better—a life free from fear, where the mountains and rivers are symbols of beauty, not battlegrounds. Until then, we can only hope, remember, and refuse to let terror rewrite the story of a land that has already endured too much.

Five years ago, the world came to a standstill as COVID-19 spread uncontrollably. Streets emptied, offices shut down, and uncertainty loomed over every decision. The initial months were marked by fear—governments imposed lockdowns, hospitals overflowed, and economies braced for collapse. The stock markets crashed, wiping out trillions in value almost overnight. Remote work, once a rare perk, became the norm overnight. Yet, looking back now, the pandemic feels like a distant memory, a chapter that reshaped society but no longer dominates daily life. The last half-decade has been a testament to human resilience, adaptability, and the surprising speed of recovery.

The most visible change has been in how we work. Before COVID, remote jobs were exceptions, often limited to specific industries. Now, hybrid and fully remote roles are standard, with companies optimizing for flexibility rather than physical presence. Technology accelerated to meet this demand—video conferencing, cloud collaboration, and digital workflows evolved rapidly. The job market, after an initial shock, rebounded with unexpected strength. Unemployment spiked in 2020, but many industries not only recovered but expanded. The markets, after their initial plunge, surged to new highs, driven by tech innovation, fiscal stimulus, and an adaptable workforce. Investors who held on through the volatility were rewarded, reinforcing the idea that long-term optimism often pays off.

Beyond work, daily life has shifted in subtle but lasting ways. Hygiene practices, once lax, became ingrained—hand sanitizers and air purifiers are now commonplace. Social interactions evolved, with virtual gatherings gaining acceptance even as in-person events returned. Travel, once restricted, has rebounded, though with lasting changes like digital health passports and flexible cancellation policies. The pandemic forced a reevaluation of priorities—health, family, and mental well-being took precedence over relentless productivity. Many adopted new habits—exercise routines, meditation, or simply spending more time outdoors. These shifts weren’t temporary; they became part of a new normal.

The most striking takeaway is how quickly humans adapt and move forward. The initial panic feels almost surreal in hindsight. The same societies that hoarded toilet paper and isolated in fear are now navigating a world where COVID-19 is just another seasonal health concern. The markets, jobs, and technology not only recovered but advanced. The lesson is clear: while crises disrupt, they also accelerate change. Optimism, in the face of uncertainty, isn’t just hopeful—it’s pragmatic. The last five years proved that even the most drastic upheavals can lead to stronger, more adaptable systems. COVID-19 may be a fading memory, but its impact lingers in how we live, work, and think about the future.

Lallantop has managed to carve out a distinct space in India’s crowded digital news market by focusing on engagement over sensationalism. Unlike traditional news outlets that often rely on dramatic headlines, Lallantop delivers content in a conversational, relatable format. What sets them apart is their use of Hindi—not the formal, rigid language of legacy media, but the colloquial, everyday speech of their audience. This approach makes complex news stories accessible without oversimplifying them. Their success lies in balancing credibility, thanks to their association with India Today and Aaj Tak, with a fresh, youthful presentation that resonates with younger viewers.

One of Lallantop’s key strengths is its ability to repurpose traditional news into engaging digital content. They leverage India Today’s extensive network of reporters but present the information in a way that feels tailored for social media and YouTube. Their videos often include direct addresses to the audience, humor, and clear explanations, making them more shareable than conventional news clips. The team understands that digital audiences have shorter attention spans, so they prioritize clarity and brevity without sacrificing depth. This strategy has helped them build a loyal subscriber base that trusts their reporting while enjoying the delivery.

Another factor behind Lallantop’s growth is their consistency in tone and format. Whether covering politics, entertainment, or social issues, they maintain a uniform style—informative yet informal. This reliability makes their content instantly recognizable, fostering a sense of familiarity with their audience. They also avoid the trap of becoming an echo chamber for a single ideology, which has helped them retain credibility across different viewer demographics. By staying adaptable without losing their core identity, they have managed to stay relevant even as news consumption habits evolve.

Lallantop’s success demonstrates the importance of understanding platform-specific content strategies. They didn’t just translate TV news into digital; they reimagined it for a new medium. Their use of native Hindi, engaging storytelling, and access to a strong journalistic network has allowed them to stand out in a competitive space. For anyone in digital media, their model offers a clear lesson: authenticity and adaptability matter more than sheer volume or sensationalism.