Recently, SEBI ordered a startup to halt operations due to fraudulent activities by its founders. The news came as a shock to many, especially employees who had no idea about the financial mismanagement happening at the top. One of my former colleagues had been working there and, sensing the growing instability, began looking for a new job months before the official announcement. His decision wasn’t based on concrete information—just a gut feeling that something was off. The company had delayed salaries, internal communication had become vague, and leadership seemed increasingly defensive. While most of the product and tech teams continued working as if nothing was wrong, he chose to act.

When he reached out to me, I connected him with a friend at Mastercard. Within weeks, he secured a new role—just before the SEBI order became public. It’s unsettling how entire teams can remain unaware of the fraud happening at the highest levels. Founders often shield employees from financial realities until it’s too late, leaving hundreds scrambling for jobs overnight. In this case, the lack of transparency wasn’t just unethical; it destroyed careers. My colleague was fortunate, but many others weren’t as quick to react or didn’t have the right connections.

The situation highlights how important it is to recognize early warning signs in a company. Delayed payments, sudden leadership changes, or unusual secrecy around finances should never be ignored. Employees often assume things will stabilize, but when regulatory actions hit, the fallout is swift. In startups, where governance can be lax, the risk is higher. The line between optimism and denial is thin, and waiting too long to act can have serious consequences.

What’s worse is that the greed of a few can upend the lives of many. The startup ecosystem thrives on trust, and incidents like this erode that trust. While my former colleague landed safely, many others are now job hunting in a tough market. The lesson here is clear: if something feels wrong, it probably is. Acting quickly—whether by networking, upskilling, or simply starting the job search—can make all the difference.

Maintaining a consistent sleep schedule has been a challenge for me. The primary issue stems from working late into the evening, which inevitably leads to prolonged exposure to blue light from screens. Research suggests that blue light suppresses melatonin production, making it harder to fall asleep. Despite knowing this, the habit persists, and the consequences extend beyond just delayed sleep. The later I stay awake, the more likely I am to consume a light snack, often something unnecessary, simply because hunger pangs set in. This creates a cycle—poor sleep leads to fatigue the next day, which then makes it harder to maintain discipline in the evening.

A few friends skip dinner altogether or finish eating before 6 PM, reporting better sleep and more energy. The idea of not eating after a certain hour seems extreme at first, but the benefits are hard to ignore. Reduced digestion load at night, fewer disruptions in sleep, and better metabolic regulation are all compelling reasons to try it. Yet, the transition isn’t straightforward. Hunger, especially when working late, feels like a legitimate need rather than a habit. The key likely lies in adjusting daytime meals to ensure satiety lasts longer, but experimentation is necessary.

The relationship between eating and sleep is more significant than I initially thought. Late-night snacking, even if light, affects sleep quality. Digestion requires energy, and the body’s focus on processing food can interfere with deep sleep phases. Additionally, eating close to bedtime has been linked to acid reflux and restless sleep. The challenge is controlling the urge to eat when tiredness sets in. Some studies suggest that what we perceive as hunger at night is often dehydration or fatigue manifesting as cravings. Drinking water or herbal tea might help, but discipline is still required to avoid reaching for snacks out of habit rather than necessity.

Changing this pattern will require deliberate adjustments. Reducing blue light exposure in the evening by using filters or limiting screen time is a start. Structuring meals to be more filling earlier in the day could prevent late-night hunger. Most importantly, consistency in sleep timing—even on weekends—would help regulate the body’s internal clock. The goal isn’t perfection but gradual improvement. If successful, the benefits—better sleep, more energy, and fewer unnecessary calories—will make the effort worthwhile. For now, it’s a work in progress, one that requires patience and small, sustainable changes.

Debugging is a fundamental skill that extends beyond just fixing software errors—it applies to solving complex business problems, logical inconsistencies, and even real-world decision-making. The core of debugging lies in structured thinking, where the problem is broken down into smaller, manageable parts. This requires patience, observation, and a methodical approach. The first step is always to isolate the issue, whether it’s a bug in code or a bottleneck in a business process. Replicating the problem consistently is crucial because without a clear understanding of when and why the issue occurs, any solution will be speculative rather than definitive. Debugging is not just about finding what’s broken but understanding why it broke in the first place.

Logical thinking is the backbone of effective debugging. Every problem, whether technical or operational, follows a cause-and-effect chain. The ability to trace this chain backward—from symptom to root cause—is what separates quick fixes from lasting solutions. This often means stepping back to analyze the system as a whole rather than focusing on immediate symptoms. For example, a crashing application might seem like a coding error, but the real issue could be an underlying resource constraint or an unexpected data input. Similarly, in business, declining sales may appear to be a marketing issue, but the root cause could be supply chain inefficiencies or customer service gaps. The key is to ask the right questions rather than jumping to conclusions.

Debugging is a process of elimination, often requiring a "step back and two steps ahead" mindset. The step back involves distancing oneself from assumptions and biases to see the problem objectively. The two steps ahead come from anticipating how changes will affect the system. In coding, this means considering edge cases and regression impacts. In business, it means evaluating second-order consequences of decisions. A common mistake is applying quick patches without understanding downstream effects, leading to recurring issues. True debugging involves not just fixing the immediate problem but ensuring it doesn’t resurface in a different form. This requires a balance of short-term resolution and long-term system resilience.

The thinking required for debugging is both analytical and creative. Analytical thinking helps in systematically narrowing down possibilities, while creativity allows for unconventional approaches when standard solutions fail. It’s about pattern recognition—identifying similarities between past and present problems—and adaptability, knowing when to pivot strategies. The best debuggers are those who treat every problem as a learning opportunity, refining their approach with each iteration. Whether in code or business, the principles remain the same: observe, hypothesize, test, and refine. Mastery comes not from never making mistakes but from knowing how to diagnose and resolve them efficiently.

Last week, before pulling an all-nighter, I completed a lower-body workout consisting of lunges, leg presses, and dumbbell exercises after a 6 km run. Typically, such a session would leave me with noticeable delayed onset muscle soreness (DOMS) in my glutes and quadriceps the following day. However, this time, since I did not sleep at all that night, I felt almost no soreness the next day. It was only after I finally slept the following night that the expected muscle soreness set in, along with a clear sense of recovery. This observation made me question the role of sleep in DOMS and muscle recovery.

DOMS is the muscle pain and stiffness that develops hours to days after intense or unfamiliar exercise. It is caused by microscopic damage to muscle fibers, triggering inflammation and repair processes. While the exact mechanisms are still being studied, sleep is known to play a crucial role in recovery. One study published in Sports Medicine (2019) found that sleep deprivation impairs the body’s inflammatory response and delays muscle recovery. This aligns with my experience—without sleep, the usual soreness was suppressed, possibly because the body’s repair mechanisms were not fully activated until rest occurred.

The absence of immediate soreness on the day after sleep deprivation could suggest that the inflammatory response was delayed. Sleep is when growth hormone peaks, facilitating tissue repair and protein synthesis. Without it, the body may prioritize immediate energy needs over recovery, postponing the soreness until proper rest is achieved. This also explains why, after finally sleeping, I felt both the soreness and the recovery effects more distinctly. The body likely used that sleep cycle to catch up on repair processes, leading to the expected DOMS the following day.

This experience highlights how critical sleep is for muscle recovery, even if the immediate effects of skipping it aren’t always obvious. While short-term sleep deprivation might mask soreness, it doesn’t eliminate the need for recovery—it merely delays it. For consistent progress in fitness, prioritizing sleep is as important as the workout itself.

Last week, I pulled an all-nighter for the first time in a couple of years. In college, all-nighters were almost routine—cramming for exams, finishing coding projects, or even just gaming with friends. Back then, recovery was quick. A few hours of sleep, maybe a strong coffee, and I’d be back to normal. This time, in my mid-thirties, the experience was starkly different. The fatigue hit harder, lasted longer, and the recovery wasn’t as simple.

The night itself wasn’t the hard part. Staying awake wasn’t difficult with enough work to focus on. The real challenge came the next day. By mid-morning, I needed twice the usual amount of coffee just to stay functional. My focus was brittle, breaking at minor distractions. Conversations felt slower, as if my brain was processing words through a delay. Even routine tasks required more effort. The mental drag was noticeable, a far cry from the resilience I had in my twenties. It wasn’t just about sleep deprivation—it was how my body and mind responded to it now.

By evening, the slowdown was undeniable. I caught myself rereading emails, struggling to follow complex discussions, and making small errors in tasks that usually required no thought. The fatigue wasn’t just mental—it was physical too. My eyes were strained, my posture slumped, and even my movements felt heavier. I tried a light walk and some stretching, which helped marginally, but the underlying exhaustion didn’t lift. It was a clear reminder that recovery at this age isn’t as immediate. The body doesn’t bounce back the way it used to.

All-nighters aren’t sustainable now. In college, they were a badge of endurance. Now, they’re a liability. The trade-off between short-term productivity and long-term fatigue isn’t worth it. If anything, this reinforced the importance of proper sleep and pacing. Pushing through the night might work occasionally, but the cost the next day is too high. A structured schedule, even if it means slower progress, is far more efficient than brute-forcing hours at the expense of well-being.

Managing a team requires making difficult decisions, and one of the hardest is letting go of members who are not meeting expectations. While it is never easy to take actions that affect someone’s livelihood, delaying the decision can harm team morale, productivity, and overall culture. The key is to approach the situation methodically, ensuring that every step—from initial feedback to final action—is structured, fair, and transparent. Providing clear warnings, documented guidance, and opportunities for improvement helps in making an objective assessment. If performance does not improve despite support, the decision to part ways becomes necessary rather than personal.

Before reaching the conclusion that a team member must leave, it is important to evaluate whether the issue is skill, effort, or fit. Sometimes, additional training, role adjustments, or mentorship can turn things around. However, if the individual consistently fails to meet expectations despite interventions, retaining them can create frustration among high performers who carry the extra load. A structured performance improvement plan (PIP) with measurable goals and timelines ensures fairness. This process should be collaborative, giving the employee a chance to voice concerns or challenges they may be facing.

Once the decision is made, it should be handled with respect and clarity. Ambiguity or abruptness can lead to anxiety within the team, so communicating the reasons—without divulging confidential details—helps maintain trust. The focus should remain on performance standards rather than personal shortcomings. The remaining team members will observe how the situation is managed, and a fair, professional approach reinforces a culture of accountability.

The long-term health of the team depends on maintaining high standards while fostering a supportive environment. Letting go of non-performers is not just about removing inefficiency; it is about protecting the morale of those who contribute consistently. A team that sees accountability enforced fairly is more likely to stay motivated and aligned with organizational goals. The process is never pleasant, but when handled correctly, it strengthens the team’s resilience and cohesion.

Life is filled with profound questions that have no clear answers. Why are we here? What is the purpose of existence? Is there meaning in suffering? These questions linger in the mind, surfacing in moments of solitude or reflection. The human tendency is to seek resolution, to find a definitive answer that ties everything together. But the truth is, these questions are not meant to be solved. They are part of the ongoing conversation between the self and the universe, a dialogue that shapes our understanding without ever providing a final reply.

The mind constantly seeks patterns, explanations, and closure. When faced with ambiguity, it creates narratives to make sense of the unknown. This is how we cope—by constructing meaning where none is readily available. Yet, the more we chase absolute answers, the more elusive they become. Philosophy, science, and religion have all attempted to address these existential queries, but none have provided a universal truth. The absence of answers is not a failure of inquiry but a reflection of life’s inherent complexity.

Accepting that some questions will remain unanswered brings a sense of peace. It shifts the focus from finding solutions to engaging with the process of questioning itself. The beauty lies not in the destination but in the act of exploration. When we stop demanding certainty, we become more open to experience, more willing to sit with discomfort, and more attuned to the subtleties of existence. The mind’s restlessness eases when it no longer feels compelled to resolve the unresolvable.

This acceptance does not mean abandoning curiosity. Instead, it means recognizing that the search for meaning is ongoing, nonlinear, and deeply personal. The questions we ask shape who we are, even if the answers never come. There is freedom in letting go of the need for resolution—it allows us to live more fully, to appreciate the mystery rather than resent it. Life’s deepest truths are not found in answers but in the willingness to keep questioning without expectation.

Life is short when you really think about it. The idea of pushing through pain, whether in exercise or daily challenges, is often glorified as a sign of strength. But pain is a signal, not a challenge to overcome. Ignoring it can lead to long-term damage, both physically and mentally. In workouts, the "no pain, no gain" mentality can result in injuries that take months or years to heal. Similarly, in life, forcing yourself through emotional or mental strain without addressing the root cause only leads to burnout. The smarter approach is to pause, assess, and respond rather than react. Pain is feedback, not a badge of honor.

Exercise is one of the clearest examples of this principle. When your body signals discomfort, it is not weakness but a warning. Pushing through joint pain, muscle strains, or exhaustion might seem disciplined, but it often leads to setbacks. Professional athletes understand this—recovery is as important as training. The same applies to everyday fitness. If running hurts your knees, switching to swimming or cycling isn’t quitting; it’s adapting. The goal is sustainable health, not short-term achievements. Listening to your body isn’t laziness; it’s intelligence. The same logic applies to work, relationships, and personal growth. Forcing progress when the signs say otherwise rarely ends well.

Life moves quickly, and the idea of "grinding through" pain can seem noble. But time is limited, and suffering unnecessarily doesn’t make it more meaningful. Chronic stress, ignored fatigue, and unaddressed emotional pain accumulate. Eventually, the body or mind will force a stop, often in more damaging ways. Taking a step back to rest, heal, or reassess isn’t wasting time—it’s investing in longevity. Whether it’s a workout injury or a draining job, recognizing when to step back is wisdom, not weakness. Pain is information. Dismissing it as something to endure is a flawed strategy in both fitness and life.

The key is balance. Discomfort from effort is different from pain signaling harm. Learning to distinguish between the two takes self-awareness. In exercise, proper form and gradual progression prevent injuries. In life, setting boundaries and recognizing limits prevent burnout. The misconception that struggle equals growth is dangerous. Real growth comes from consistent, mindful effort—not from ignoring warnings. Pain is not the enemy, but neither is it a teacher to blindly follow. The wisest approach is to respect it, understand it, and adjust accordingly. Life is too short to spend it recovering from preventable damage.

Your 30s mark a transition where life turns inward. The external noise fades, and the need for solace grows. This is often labeled as a midlife crisis, but it’s less about crisis and more about recalibration. The friendships that once felt unshakable begin to thin. People drift into their own orbits—careers, marriages, children. The effort to sustain connections feels heavier, and the returns diminish. You start preferring depth over breadth in relationships, holding on to only those who align with your quieter, more deliberate way of living.

Families, too, grow distant in ways that aren’t dramatic but inevitable. Siblings build their own lives, parents age, and responsibilities multiply. The nuclear family—partner, children—consumes time and energy, leaving little for extended ties. This isn’t neglect; it’s necessity. Priorities harden. You no longer have the luxury of maintaining every bond, so you focus on the ones that matter most. The relationships that survive are the ones that require no performance, no forced effort—just presence.

Making new friends becomes harder. The ease of youth, where shared interests or proximity forged instant connections, is gone. Trust is slower to build, and the willingness to invest in superficial ties dwindles. You stop collecting acquaintances and start valuing solitude. The people who stay are those who understand silence, who don’t need constant interaction to feel connected. The circle shrinks, but what remains is stronger.

This isn’t loneliness; it’s selectivity. Your 30s teach you that time is finite, and not every relationship deserves it. The inward turn isn’t isolation—it’s clarity. You stop seeking validation from the world and start finding it within. The so-called midlife crisis is just the realization that some things were never meant to last, and that’s okay.

FanCode has emerged as a unique player in the sports OTT space by focusing on micro-transactions rather than traditional subscription models. Unlike platforms like Hotstar or SonyLIV, which rely on monthly or annual plans, FanCode allows users to pay per match, event, or even specific content, with prices typically ranging between Rs 40 and Rs 100. This approach makes sports consumption more flexible, especially for viewers who may not want long-term commitments. The platform covers a wide range of sports, including cricket, football, basketball, and notably, Formula 1, which is a key attraction for motorsport fans in India.

One of FanCode’s standout features is its seamless cross-device compatibility, ensuring users can watch live races, highlights, and analysis on smartphones, tablets, or desktops without interruptions. For F1 fans in India, this is particularly valuable, as accessing races legally has often been restricted to expensive TV subscriptions or inconsistent streaming options. FanCode’s pay-per-race model means fans can purchase only the events they care about, avoiding the need for a full-season subscription. This micro-transaction strategy is a shift from the industry norm and caters to an audience that prefers affordability and flexibility.

The platform’s success hinges on its understanding of niche sports audiences. While mainstream services bundle multiple sports and entertainment content, FanCode zeroes in on dedicated fans who may not watch anything beyond their preferred sport. This specialization allows for curated features like in-depth stats, multi-commentary options, and expert insights. The ability to make small, one-time payments instead of recurring fees lowers the entry barrier, making high-quality sports streaming accessible to a broader demographic.

FanCode’s model could influence how sports streaming evolves, especially in price-sensitive markets like India. By prioritizing micro-transactions over subscriptions, it addresses a gap that larger platforms often overlook. For now, it remains a compelling option for F1 enthusiasts and other sports fans who want an affordable, no-strings-attached viewing experience. As the demand for flexible consumption grows, FanCode’s strategy may set a precedent for future sports OTT services.