The money earned from a salary and the money earned from building a business are fundamentally different. When I worked in banking, my paycheck was predictable and bonus was a cherry on top. There was security in that, but also a distance from the real challenges of creating something from nothing. The money I earned while building Exambazaar, on the other hand, came with uncertainty, effort, and a deeper understanding of what it means to generate value. That difference in origin changes how you perceive money, how you spend it, and how you value it.

Building a business teaches lessons that a salaried job probably do not. Every dollar earned through a startup is tied to solving a problem, convincing a customer, or optimizing an inefficient process. There is no guaranteed outcome, no safety net. This forces you to think differently—about risk, about resource allocation, about persistence. The humility that comes from facing repeated rejections, from seeing how easily things can fail, and from realizing how much you don’t know, is something that a steady paycheck does not instill. Salary money feels deserved in a transactional way; business money feels earned in a much deeper sense.

The personal growth that comes from building something is also different. A salaried role, especially in structured industries like banking, often narrows your focus. You become good at a specific function, but the broader perspective—how different parts of a business interact, how cash flow really works, how decisions impact survival—is missing. When you’re responsible for an entire business, you have no choice but to engage with all of it. You become more well-rounded, more adaptable, and more aware of your own limitations. That awareness keeps you grounded in a way that corporate hierarchies rarely do.

Looking back, the money I earned from Exambazaar teaches more to me than the money I drew from banking, not because of the amount, but because of what it represents. It’s a reflection of problems solved, risks taken, and lessons learned. Salary money sustains you, but business money changes you. It forces you to confront reality, to adapt, and to grow in ways that comfortable paychecks never will. That difference is why not all money is equal.

Passion is often seen as the driving force behind outcomes, but it can also become a burden when tied too closely to identity. When passion turns into ego, it clouds judgment, making it harder to adapt or change course. The idea of letting go of passion does not mean abandoning what you care about, but rather detaching from the emotional weight that comes with it. By observing your thoughts and interests from a distance, you can make decisions based on rationality rather than attachment. This shift allows for clearer thinking and reduces the fear of failure, since outcomes are no longer tied to self-worth.

The concept of flow—where ideas and actions come naturally without forced effort—is more sustainable than relying on passion alone. Passion can be fleeting, often driven by external validation or past investments, while flow is about engaging with the present moment. When you stop clinging to passion as a defining trait, you open yourself to new opportunities that may have otherwise been dismissed. The right decision is often the one made with available information, not the one that aligns with a preconceived notion of what you "should" be doing. Letting go of passion as an identity marker makes it easier to pivot when necessary.

Many people struggle with the idea of stepping away from something they once loved because it feels like admitting defeat. However, interests evolve, and what once brought joy may no longer serve the same purpose. Holding onto passion out of obligation leads to stagnation, while releasing it creates space for growth. The key is to act based on current circumstances rather than past commitments. This approach removes unnecessary emotional friction, allowing for more objective choices. Doing the right thing becomes simpler when it is not weighed down by the need to preserve an old version of yourself.

In the end, passion is just one of many tools for navigating life, not a requirement for fulfillment. Treating it as a temporary state rather than a permanent identity makes it easier to move forward without regret. The goal is not to eliminate passion but to prevent it from becoming an obstacle. By focusing on the flow of ideas and actions, decisions become more intentional and less emotionally charged. The right path is often the one taken with clarity, not the one dictated by an outdated sense of what you once believed you were meant to do.

It’s easy to lose touch with people over the years, even those you once shared close bonds with. Life moves forward, priorities shift, and before you realize it, years have passed without a conversation. That’s what happened with Nikhil Hooda, my wing mate from IIT Bombay. We were in the same hostel, playing football, frisbee, or watching stuff together. Nikhil was—and still is—one of the smartest people I’ve known, especially when it comes to computer science. His ability to break down complex problems into simple, logical steps was something I always admired. Yet, despite the shared experiences, we drifted apart after graduation, as careers and personal commitments took precedence.

Recently, we reconnected after a long gap. The conversation picked up almost effortlessly, as if no time had passed. There’s a certain comfort in talking to someone who knew you during a formative phase of life. We exchanged updates—work, life, and the inevitable reflections on how much has changed. Nikhil shared that he and his wife were blessed with a baby girl, Vidya, a year ago. It was heartening to hear; parenthood suits him, and I hope Vidya grows up with the same sharp intellect and kindness that define her father. Moments like these make you realize how much can happen in the span of a few years, even when you’re not actively part of each other’s daily lives.

Reconnecting with old friends isn’t just about catching up on missed events—it’s also a reminder of shared history. Talking to Nikhil brought back memories of last-minute exam preparations, and the kind of camaraderie that forms when you’re navigating the quirks of IIT together. Those experiences shape who you become, and revisiting them, even briefly, reinforces how far you’ve come. It’s interesting how some people leave a lasting impression, not just through their achievements but through their way of thinking. Nikhil’s analytical approach to problems influenced how I tackle challenges even today, and I hadn’t fully acknowledged that until we spoke again.

These calls are rare but meaningful. In a world where maintaining connections often takes a backseat to immediate demands, taking the time to reconnect can be unexpectedly rewarding. It doesn’t require grand gestures—just a message, a call, or a meet-up when possible. The conversation with Nikhil was a reminder of how relationships, even those that fade over time, hold value. They’re markers of where you’ve been and, in some ways, who you are. Here’s to more such catch-ups, and to Vidya—may her journey be as remarkable as her father’s.

Game addiction is not just about willpower—it’s rooted in how our brains respond to rewards. Mobile games, even those with average graphics or unrealistic mechanics, can become highly addictive because they exploit the brain’s dopamine system. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter linked to pleasure and motivation, and games are designed to trigger its release in controlled, repetitive cycles. Every time you complete a level, earn a reward, or get a surprise loot box, your brain receives a small dopamine hit. This reinforcement keeps you engaged, pushing you to play just a little longer, even when you know you should stop.

The most effective games use variable reward schedules, a concept borrowed from behavioral psychology. Unlike predictable rewards, which become monotonous, unexpected rewards create a stronger compulsion to keep playing. Slot machines use this principle—players pull the lever repeatedly because they don’t know when the next win will come. Similarly, mobile games employ randomized rewards, such as random loot drops or surprise bonuses, to maintain engagement. The uncertainty makes the brain anticipate a possible reward, leading to prolonged play sessions. This is why even simple games with minimal depth can become addictive if the reward loop is well-tuned.

Another factor is the illusion of progress. Games often use progress bars, level-ups, and incremental unlocks to give players a sense of achievement. These small wins create a steady stream of dopamine, reinforcing the behavior. Even if the actual gameplay is repetitive, the feeling of moving forward keeps players hooked. Many games also incorporate social elements, like leaderboards or cooperative challenges, which add peer pressure and competition into the mix. The combination of psychological triggers—variable rewards, progress mechanics, and social validation—makes disengaging difficult, even when the game itself offers little real-world value.

Understanding these mechanisms can help in managing game addiction. Since the brain responds strongly to unpredictable rewards, setting strict time limits or avoiding games that rely heavily on randomized rewards can reduce compulsive play. Awareness of these design tactics allows players to make more conscious choices about their gaming habits. While games can be entertaining and even beneficial in moderation, their addictive potential lies in how effectively they manipulate our brain’s reward system. Recognizing this can help maintain a healthier balance between gaming and other aspects of life.

There is a simple yet effective method to tackle problems and tasks—writing them down in clear, concise bullet points. The act of breaking down a problem into smaller components forces clarity. When a problem exists only in the mind, it often feels overwhelming, a tangled mess of dependencies and unknowns. But when transferred to paper or a digital notepad, it becomes manageable. Each bullet point acts as a distinct sub-problem, a checkpoint that can be addressed individually. This approach works regardless of the problem’s complexity, whether it’s debugging code, planning a trip, or structuring a business proposal. The key is in the decomposition—seeing the whole as a sum of solvable parts rather than an insurmountable whole.

A notebook or a notepad app serves as an external extension of thought. The brain is excellent at generating ideas but poor at holding them all at once. Writing them down offloads cognitive load, freeing mental space for actual problem-solving rather than retention. Desktop notepad apps offer an added advantage—easy reorganization. A bullet point can be dragged up or down, merged, split, or deleted without the mess of scribbles on paper. This flexibility allows for dynamic restructuring, making it easier to refine the approach as new information emerges. The process is iterative: write, rearrange, solve, repeat. Over time, this method not only speeds up execution but also reduces the mental fatigue associated with juggling multiple thoughts.

The difference between solving a problem in the head versus on paper is stark. Mental problem-solving often leads to circular thinking—revisiting the same points without progress. Writing forces linearity. Each bullet point demands attention, ensuring no aspect is glossed over. It also exposes gaps in understanding. If a step cannot be clearly defined, it indicates missing knowledge or an ill-defined problem. This clarity alone saves hours of wasted effort. Additionally, the act of crossing out completed tasks provides a psychological reward, reinforcing progress. The more problems are broken down this way, the more natural it becomes, turning chaotic thought processes into structured workflows.

This method is not revolutionary, yet it is underutilized. Many rely on memory or vague mental outlines, leading to inefficiency. The discipline of writing things down—whether in a notebook or a digital tool—creates a tangible record of thought. It eliminates ambiguity, accelerates execution, and reduces errors. The best part is its universality. It works for coding, writing, planning, learning, or even daily chores. The next time a problem feels too large, the solution is simple: break it down, write it down, and solve it one bullet point at a time.

Movement is one of the most underrated forms of medicine. The human body is designed to move, and when it doesn’t, it deteriorates. Regular physical activity—whether it’s running, lifting weights, or even a short stretching session—plays a crucial role in maintaining physical and mental health. A sedentary lifestyle leads to stiffness, reduced mobility, and a higher risk of chronic conditions. In contrast, even small amounts of movement can improve circulation, enhance joint flexibility, and release endorphins that elevate mood. The key is consistency rather than intensity. A daily walk, a few minutes of stretching, or a brief workout can make a significant difference in how you feel and function.

The benefits of movement extend beyond physical health. Mental clarity, stress reduction, and improved sleep are all linked to regular activity. When you move, your brain receives more oxygen, which sharpens focus and cognitive function. Exercise also triggers the release of neurotransmitters like serotonin and dopamine, which help regulate mood and reduce anxiety. You don’t need to train like an athlete to experience these effects. Simple activities like taking the stairs, walking during phone calls, or doing a short yoga routine can integrate movement seamlessly into your day. The goal is to avoid prolonged stillness and keep the body in motion as much as possible.

Stretching is often overlooked but is one of the most accessible forms of movement. A five-minute stretch in the morning or evening can alleviate muscle tension, improve posture, and increase blood flow. Many people underestimate how much stiffness accumulates from sitting for long hours, whether at a desk or during commutes. Incorporating basic stretches for the neck, shoulders, hips, and legs can prevent discomfort and enhance mobility. Stretching also serves as a mental reset, providing a brief pause in the day to reconnect with your body. It doesn’t require equipment or a gym membership—just a small commitment to self-care.

The philosophy of movement as medicine is about sustainability, not extremes. You don’t need to push yourself to exhaustion to reap the benefits. Instead, focus on integrating movement into your routine in a way that feels manageable. A short run, a few bodyweight exercises, or even a dance session in your living room can keep your body functioning optimally. The more you move, the better your body adapts, and the easier it becomes to maintain an active lifestyle. Be kind to your body—prioritize movement, and it will reward you with strength, resilience, and longevity.

Buddha Purnima marks the birth, enlightenment, and death of Gautama Buddha, a day observed with reflection and reverence. At the core of Buddha’s teachings are the Four Noble Truths, which remain profoundly relevant despite the passage of centuries. The first truth identifies suffering (dukkha) as an inherent part of existence. The second explains that suffering arises from desire and attachment. The third offers hope, stating that suffering can cease by letting go of craving. The fourth provides the path to liberation—the Eightfold Path, which emphasizes right understanding, intention, speech, action, livelihood, effort, mindfulness, and concentration. These truths are not bound by time or culture, offering a framework for understanding human suffering that remains unchanged by technological progress or societal shifts.

In our lives dominated by rapid advancements in artificial intelligence, automation, and digital connectivity, the fundamental nature of human suffering has not altered. People still grapple with dissatisfaction, loss, and unfulfilled desires, much as they did in Buddha’s time. Technology may provide temporary distractions or conveniences, but it does not address the deeper existential questions that the Four Noble Truths confront. The pursuit of material success, social validation, or endless entertainment often leads to the same cycles of craving and disappointment that Buddha described. His teachings remind us that external progress does not eliminate internal struggles, and true contentment requires introspection and detachment from transient desires.

Buddha’s insights into human nature reveal a paradox—the more we seek to control or acquire, the more we suffer. Modern life, with its emphasis on productivity, consumption, and constant connectivity, often exacerbates this cycle rather than alleviating it. The Eightfold Path offers a counterbalance, advocating for ethical living, mental discipline, and mindful awareness. These principles are not outdated spiritual concepts but practical guidelines for navigating contemporary challenges. Whether dealing with stress, relationships, or existential uncertainty, Buddha’s teachings provide a stable foundation in a world that prioritizes speed and superficial solutions over lasting wisdom.

Buddha Purnima serves as a reminder that some truths transcend time. No matter how much the external world changes, the human condition—marked by impermanence, suffering, and the search for meaning—remains constant. The Four Noble Truths do not demand blind faith but encourage observation and self-inquiry. They invite us to examine our attachments, recognize the roots of our discontent, and cultivate a mindset of equanimity. In a society increasingly driven by algorithms, instant gratification, and fragmented attention, Buddha’s teachings offer a rare clarity. They are not relics of the past but essential tools for living with intention, regardless of the age we find ourselves in.

My sister-in-law and brother gifted me a pair of Nike React Infinity 3 Flyknit running shoes for my birthday around a week ago. The timing was perfect—I had been considering an upgrade from my old pair, which had started to lose their cushioning. The React Infinity 3 is designed for stability and long-distance comfort, two things I prioritize as someone who runs regularly. The Flyknit upper provides a snug fit without restricting movement, and the wider base offers better support compared to my previous shoes. I was curious to see how they would perform, so I took them for a half marathon on the treadmill today.

The first thing I noticed was the improved cushioning. The React foam midsole absorbs impact more effectively than my older shoes, reducing the strain on my knees and ankles. Over long distances, joint stress accumulates, and inadequate footwear can lead to discomfort or even injury. The Infinity 3’s design emphasizes a smooth transition from heel to toe, which helps maintain a natural stride. Even after 21.1 kilometers, my legs felt less fatigued than usual. The stability features also made a difference—the shoes kept my foot alignment steady, preventing the slight inward roll I sometimes experience toward the end of a run.

Better running shoes don’t just improve performance; they also protect the body. The knees and ankles absorb significant force with each step, and over time, poor support can lead to issues like shin splints or tendonitis. The React Infinity 3’s combination of cushioning and structured support minimizes unnecessary movement, reducing wear on joints. I’ve had runs in the past where my old shoes left me with lingering soreness, but this time, the recovery was quicker. The difference wasn’t dramatic, but it was noticeable—enough to make me appreciate how much engineering goes into a good pair of running shoes.

This experience reinforced something I’ve known but often overlooked: investing in proper gear matters. Running is a repetitive motion, and small inefficiencies add up over time. The right shoes won’t make you faster overnight, but they can make running more sustainable in the long term. The Nike React Infinity 3 Flyknit is a solid choice for anyone looking for a balance of comfort and stability. I’ll be keeping these for my longer runs and sticking to my older pairs for shorter distances. A good gift, as it turns out, isn’t just about the object itself but the thought behind it—my brother and sister-in-law knew exactly what I needed.

OpenAI's latest image generation model, GPT-Image-1, offers notable improvements over its predecessors, DALL·E-2 and DALL·E-3. The most immediate advantage is cost efficiency—GPT-Image-1 is significantly cheaper to operate, making it more accessible for both individual users and businesses. Beyond pricing, the model demonstrates superior prompt adherence, generating images that more accurately reflect user inputs with fewer errors. While DALL·E-3 already improved upon DALL·E-2 in terms of coherence and detail, GPT-Image-1 refines this further by reducing artifacts and inconsistencies, particularly in complex scenes involving multiple objects or abstract concepts.

One of the key technical advancements in GPT-Image-1 is its ability to handle nuanced prompts with greater precision. Where DALL·E-2 often struggled with fine details and DALL·E-3 occasionally over-interpreted requests, GPT-Image-1 strikes a better balance, producing outputs that align more closely with user intent. This improvement is likely due to enhanced training data and better fine-tuning of the underlying architecture. Additionally, the model processes requests faster, reducing wait times without compromising output quality, a practical benefit for users generating large batches of images.

Another area where GPT-Image-1 excels is in generating human figures and text within images, historically weak points for earlier models. DALL·E-2 frequently distorted faces or rendered text illegibly, while DALL·E-3 made strides but still had inconsistencies. GPT-Image-1 addresses these issues with more stable outputs, making it more viable for applications requiring readable text or realistic human features. The model also handles stylistic variations more reliably, whether replicating specific art movements or adhering to precise compositional guidelines.

For users considering the switch from DALL·E-2 or DALL·E-3, GPT-Image-1 presents a compelling case. The reduced cost, combined with higher accuracy and faster processing, makes it a practical upgrade. While no model is perfect, GPT-Image-1’s refinements suggest OpenAI is steadily closing the gap between AI-generated and human-created visuals. As with any tool, the best approach is testing it against specific use cases, but the improvements in this iteration are clear and measurable.

Evening walks have become a small but meaningful part of my routine. Around 7 PM, the streets shift from the hurried energy of office commutes to something slower, more personal. People return home, some tired, some relieved, some still carrying the weight of the day. It’s interesting how sharply our lives divide between the 9-5 and the 5-9—one dictated by obligation, the other by choice. What we do with those hours outside work often defines us more than the work itself. The faces I see tell stories—some strained, some content, most simply enduring. There’s a quiet resilience in the way people move, a reminder that life continues regardless of how the day went.

India’s financial diversity is impossible to ignore during these walks. A short distance can take you from high-rises to roadside stalls, from air-conditioned cars to hand-pulled carts. The privilege of stability is easy to forget until you see how hard others work just to get by. Street vendors setting up for the evening, laborers heading home after a long shift, shopkeepers tallying the day’s earnings—each has a rhythm, a struggle, a quiet determination. There’s inspiration in that, not in an exaggerated, sentimental way, but in the simple acknowledgment of effort. It’s a useful counterbalance to the insulated frustrations of desk jobs and routine.

What strikes me most is how little we notice these details in daily life. Walking forces you to slow down, to observe without agenda. You see the way a chai seller remembers his regulars’ orders, how construction workers share a joke while waiting for the bus, the tired but focused expression of a mother balancing groceries and a child’s hand. These are not grand moments, but they are real, unpolished, and far more telling than curated social media snippets. There’s a humility in recognizing that everyone has a life as complex as your own, even if their struggles and joys look different.

Evening walks, in the end, are less about exercise and more about perspective. They’re a reminder that life exists outside meetings and screens, that time moves differently for everyone, and that small observations can recalibrate how you see your own day. I don’t walk to escape routine but to see it clearly—both mine and others’. There’s value in that.