Bangkok is a dense and lively city that attracts millions of visitors every year, and it has become one of the most visited international cities for Indians. The food scene is central to its appeal, with everything from street vendors to Michelin-starred restaurants offering an incredible variety of flavors. For anyone arriving from Delhi or Mumbai, the city feels accessible and familiar in parts, yet it carries its own rhythm that is fast-paced and demanding. The combination of convenience, affordability, and world-class dining makes it a regular stop for many travelers.

Walking through Bangkok, the density is immediately noticeable. The roads are packed, the markets overflow with people, and the skytrain stations are never empty. At times it feels chaotic, but that same energy is what fuels the experience. It is not a city where stillness is easy to find, but the intensity of life here can be grounding in its own way. For Indian travelers, the city feels comfortable because of the cultural overlaps in food habits, bargaining in markets, and the general warmth of people. That sense of ease explains why the city has a constant flow of Indian tourists throughout the year.

Food remains the highlight of every visit. Bangkok is home to a surprisingly high number of Michelin-starred restaurants, both high-end dining experiences and smaller places recognized for their consistency and authenticity. Beyond that, the street food scene is unmatched, with dishes like pad thai, satay, and mango sticky rice available at every corner. The affordability of these meals compared to international standards makes exploring the food culture much more approachable. For many, a trip to Bangkok is as much about eating across neighborhoods as it is about sightseeing.

Despite its draw, Bangkok can feel overwhelming. The sheer density of people, vehicles, and noise can drain energy after a few days. The heat adds another layer of intensity, making simple walks demanding. Yet, this very character is part of what makes Bangkok memorable. Travelers are constantly balancing between overstimulation and discovery, and it is in those moments that the city reveals itself. It is not a place that leaves one indifferent; instead, it demands engagement.

Each visit reinforces why Bangkok holds such a strong reputation. It is a city where food alone could justify the journey, but it is also one that reflects the growth of tourism in Asia. The infrastructure, the diversity of experiences, and the balance between modernity and tradition keep it relevant. For Indian travelers, the short flight time, easy connectivity, and variety of attractions make it a reliable choice. It is a city worth returning to, even if only to experience the same dishes once again.

Bangkok has a reputation for its shopping malls, and the experience of visiting them is very different from what I am used to in India. The scale is larger, the variety broader, and the focus on fashion is visible everywhere. Platinum Mall stands out because it is designed almost entirely around clothes and accessories. Walking through the aisles, the pattern becomes clear: people buy a suitcase first and then move from shop to shop, filling it with items until it is full. It is not just tourists who follow this routine but also buyers sourcing for resale. The mall is structured in a way that encourages bulk shopping, with price differences based on the number of pieces bought.

The idea of shopping with a suitcase seems unusual at first but makes sense after observing how the place functions. Carrying bags from multiple stores is inconvenient, especially when clothes are bought in large numbers. A single suitcase becomes a practical solution, and the sight of people dragging them along the corridors is almost as common as the sight of hangers and racks. The energy is transactional, with little emphasis on leisurely browsing. Unlike high-end malls in Sukhumvit or around Siam, Platinum is less about ambiance and more about volume. The narrow shops are stacked with merchandise, and quick turnover is the priority.

Comparing this to other malls in Bangkok shows how the city has organized retail for different kinds of demand. Central World and Siam Paragon are polished, with international brands, restaurants, and entertainment bundled together. Terminal 21 builds its identity around themed floors that feel more like a tourist attraction. Platinum, in contrast, strips everything down to buying and selling clothes at scale. It is crowded, efficient, and purpose-driven. This division of roles among malls makes Bangkok a unique hub for shopping, where both the casual visitor and the serious reseller can find spaces tailored to their needs.

Spending time at Platinum is also a reminder of how fashion markets evolve in Asia. Wholesale and retail blur into each other, and the same shop can cater to a tourist picking up a single dress and to a reseller buying in dozens. The bargaining culture is present but softened by the tiered pricing model, where discounts are automatically offered for bulk. This efficiency reduces friction and allows shoppers to plan their purchases better. The availability of every category of clothing in one building also explains why people commit hours, sometimes an entire day, to just one mall.

The memory of Platinum Mall is less about one store or one purchase and more about the overall atmosphere. Seeing suitcases roll past every few minutes and shopkeepers quickly packing items in plastic covers reflects how the place runs like a system. It is not glamorous, but it works. For me, it showed how Bangkok’s malls operate not just as spaces for consumption but as micro-economies with their own routines. The suitcase shopping method might look excessive at first, but within the environment of Platinum Mall, it is the most practical and almost necessary approach.

Today was special for two reasons, as it was Swati’s birthday and also the day of completing dive three and dive four of the open water certification. The dives started early in the morning, with the boat heading out before the sun had fully risen. Entering the water felt calmer this time, as the routine of checking gear, setting up, and taking the giant stride was becoming familiar. The depth went down to around sixteen metres, which was deeper than before and gave a stronger sense of descending into a space that felt far removed from the surface. The day carried both personal celebration and progress in training, making it memorable in more than one way.

The third dive involved refining the skills practiced earlier, but this time at depth. Equalizing became more frequent, and the ears needed attention as the descent went further than before. Buoyancy was more demanding, as the margin for error increases with depth, but the practice of slow breaths and careful adjustments to the BCD started to show results. Skills like mask clearing and regulator retrieval felt easier now compared to the first attempts, which showed how quickly the body and mind adapt with repetition. It was less about just getting through the tasks and more about feeling steady while doing them.

The highlight of the dive was spotting a blue-spotted stingray resting on the sand. Watching it remain still and then move slightly when approached was a reminder of how marine life blends seamlessly into the environment. Unlike the fish swimming above and around, the stingray looked like part of the ocean floor, only revealing itself when the eyes adjusted to its outline. Seeing it up close at depth made the dive more than just practice, giving a glimpse of what underwater exploration can bring once training is complete. These moments balance out the discipline of drills with the reward of discovery.

The fourth dive was about tying everything together. Descending again to similar depth felt easier than the morning’s first attempt, showing how quickly confidence grows in just a few hours. The skills were repeated, and there was more focus on maintaining position without floating up or sinking down unintentionally. The instructors allowed more independence, with less direct intervention, which made the dive feel closer to what future fun dives will be like. Swimming around and observing life while managing equipment and position created a sense of self-reliance that had been missing on the first day.

By the end of the session, surfacing with the knowledge of having completed the four required dives felt satisfying. The certification is a formality, but the real value is in experiencing the gradual shift from nervousness to comfort underwater. Having Swati’s birthday fall on the same day as the final dives added a personal layer to the memory. The combination of completing something new, sharing the experience, and marking the occasion made the day stand out. Diving to sixteen metres and seeing a stingray will remain linked with the thought of her birthday, blending celebration on land with achievement underwater.

The first two dives of the open water certification take place in the ocean, marking the shift from controlled pool training to real conditions. Entering the water with full gear and descending into open space feels very different from earlier fun dives done with instructors closely guiding every move. This time there is more independence, as the training allows for movement and decision-making under water. The ocean itself adds unpredictability, with visibility, currents, and marine life shaping the experience in ways a pool cannot replicate. The transition is both natural and unfamiliar, with comfort coming slowly as skills from training begin to take hold.

The first dive is focused on getting used to depth and surroundings. Equalizing becomes second nature as the descent reaches beyond the shallow three-metre pool, and the ears demand attention more frequently. Breathing patterns, once mechanical, start to feel steadier, though the sound of bubbles still dominates the senses. Marine life begins to appear, and seeing fish and corals at eye level while hovering mid-water shifts the perception of diving from exercise to experience. It is less about following instructions and more about existing in a new environment, one where stillness and observation feel just as important as movement.

By the second dive, there is a noticeable increase in comfort and control. Buoyancy starts to make more sense, with fine adjustments to breathing and BCD inflations leading to longer stretches of stable hovering. The earlier habit of constantly finning reduces, and there is a sense of drifting naturally with the water. Skills such as mask clearing and regulator recovery are repeated at depth, and they feel more manageable than during pool practice. The unfamiliarity of salt water and open space is still present, but it is no longer overwhelming. Instead, it becomes a reminder of how training translates into calm execution.

The independence of these dives stands out the most. Fun dives in the past were enjoyable but restrictive, with instructors holding on or directing constantly. In contrast, these certification dives allow personal control of direction, pace, and position in the water column. That freedom, even though closely monitored, brings a sense of ownership over the dive. Looking around and realizing that the body is suspended mid-water without constant assistance is both reassuring and motivating. The mind shifts from worry about survival to appreciation of movement, breathing, and the environment.

These first two open water dives create a foundation for what lies ahead. They show how preparation in the pool connects directly to practical use in the sea. They also demonstrate that comfort underwater does not come instantly but builds steadily with each descent and ascent. The mix of learning and exploration makes the day memorable, setting the tone for deeper dives and more advanced practice. It is tiring, but in the quiet moments after surfacing, there is a sense that diving is no longer an activity being tried but a skill being absorbed.

The first day of open water diving certification begins in the pool, where the controlled setting helps to focus on technique without the distraction of waves or visibility issues. The training depth is around three metres, which is enough to get a real sense of being underwater while still within the safe boundaries of a swimming pool. Much of the day is spent learning to equalize, clearing the mask, and practicing buoyancy. These are small but essential steps, and repetition helps build comfort with the equipment and the idea of breathing underwater for long stretches. The controlled pace of the session allows the body and mind to gradually accept the new environment.

Equalizing is one of the first challenges to get right. As the body descends, pressure builds in the ears, and it has to be released by pinching the nose and gently blowing or using swallowing techniques. At three metres it feels manageable, but the reminder is constant that as the depth increases, this becomes a critical part of safe diving. Practicing equalization several times during short descents helps build a natural rhythm. It is less about strength and more about awareness, noticing the point at which pressure begins and addressing it early. The instructors emphasize frequency over force, since waiting too long makes it harder to equalize comfortably.

Mask clearing comes next, and while it feels awkward at first, the process is designed to handle one of the most common situations under water. Filling the mask with water and then pushing it out by pressing the top frame while exhaling through the nose is a basic but vital skill. It teaches trust in the equipment and confidence in managing discomfort. At first, water against the eyes and nose feels unnatural, but repetition shows how quickly the body adjusts. This exercise also ties back into staying calm and not rushing through actions, as panic only complicates simple procedures. The pool setting makes it easier to practice without pressure.

Buoyancy control rounds out the essentials of day one. Learning to hover, adjust breathing, and manage air in the BCD (buoyancy control device) shows how fine the balance is between sinking and floating. At three metres, small shifts in breath or movement make noticeable changes, which makes it the perfect environment to experiment. The importance of slow, deliberate breathing becomes clear, as it affects not only air consumption but also stability under water. By the end of the day, the connection between breathing and control feels stronger, even though mastery is still far away. The repetition is tiring but rewarding.

Looking back at the first day, it becomes clear how each of these skills is a building block. Equalizing, mask clearing, and buoyancy may seem basic in a pool, but they prepare for the open water dives where conditions are less predictable. The process is structured in a way that slowly introduces both the technical and psychological aspects of diving. Getting comfortable at three metres is a small but necessary step toward going deeper, and the day ends with a sense of both fatigue and anticipation for what follows in the sea.

Flying into Koh Samui is a reminder of how different travel feels when the airport itself is designed with character. The terminal is small and functional, but it does not follow the typical glass-and-concrete model of large international airports. Instead, it has an open-air layout with covered walkways and shuttle buses that look more like trams, carrying passengers from the aircraft to the arrival area. The process is smooth and surprisingly relaxed, and the whole experience feels less like entering a transport hub and more like being welcomed into an island setting. For someone heading toward diving in Koh Tao, the first impression is already tuned to the pace of the islands.

The buses that take passengers from the plane to the terminal are one of the most memorable details. They are not the usual airport shuttles but designed with open sides and wood-inspired seating, which fits well with the tropical background. It makes the transfer short and pleasant, not rushed, even though the logistics remain efficient. The design seems intentional, almost to remind visitors that they are now far from the structure and scale of Bangkok. The difference between stepping off an overnight flight into a busy hub versus arriving at Koh Samui is striking. It sets a different rhythm for the rest of the journey.

From Koh Samui, the next step is to move toward Koh Tao. The transfer involves the ferry, and that journey shifts the traveler further into island mode. The smaller scale of the airport makes the connection manageable, with baggage handling and movement between different modes of transport kept simple. The contrast between a city airport and Koh Samui is not only architectural but psychological. Instead of the stress of navigating long queues and crowded terminals, the entire setup makes it easier to adjust into travel that is centered on water, boats, and slower pace.

Arriving here a day before the start of the diving course feels like a practical decision. The body needs time to settle after the overnight flights and transitions. Sleep is usually broken in these kinds of trips, especially when moving across time zones or catching early-morning connections. The small comfort of an easy arrival at Koh Samui helps in adjusting. By the time the ferry reaches Koh Tao, the fatigue of long-haul travel is replaced with anticipation of starting something new. It shows how much the infrastructure of travel influences mood and preparation, not just movement.

Tomorrow the diving certification begins. It will be the Open Water course, and arriving with a calm state of mind is useful for the start. The first steps of getting familiar with the equipment, the techniques, and the safety procedures require attention, and it helps to not be burdened by the exhaustion of transit. Looking back, the experience of Koh Samui airport and the transfer onward is not just a detail of the journey but part of how the preparation shapes itself. Small airports, when done well, act as a transition space that eases the shift between long flights and the reason for travel.

Flying into Bangkok often means taking an overnight flight, and the experience of managing sleep on such routes has changed over the years. The body used to adjust more easily when younger, slipping into a few hours of rest on the plane and carrying on with the day ahead after landing. Now the disruption to the sleep cycle is more noticeable, and it takes longer to feel aligned again. The early morning arrival into Bangkok is convenient from a scheduling point of view, but the fatigue is harder to ignore with age.

An overnight flight compresses rest into a setting that is not designed for proper sleep. Airplane seats, meal timings, and the general movement around the cabin break up the rhythm that the body is used to. What used to be manageable with a short nap now feels insufficient. The result is a sluggish first day in the city, with the mind slightly dulled and the body craving proper rest. For short trips, this makes the balance between time gained and energy lost more important to consider.

Bangkok itself adds to this equation because the city can feel overwhelming on little sleep. The traffic, the humidity, and the busy energy of the place demand alertness. Without enough rest, small inconveniences become more noticeable. Planning the first day lightly and giving the body time to catch up has become more important. It no longer feels practical to land and dive straight into a packed itinerary, even if that seemed normal in earlier years.

The broader question is about how sleep cycles shift with age and why disruptions feel more difficult to recover from. The body’s ability to adjust to irregular hours decreases, and the margin for lost rest narrows. A single missed night can create a drag that carries on for days. The resilience that once made overnight flights seem like an efficient option is no longer the same, and it makes sense to plan around recovery as much as the travel itself.

Thinking about this makes overnight flights less attractive in the long term, especially when the purpose of travel is more than just reaching a destination quickly. Choosing routes with daytime travel or adding a buffer day feels more reasonable now. Flying into Bangkok will always remain tied to the convenience of overnight options from Delhi, but recognizing how age changes the way those flights affect the body helps in making better decisions for future trips.

The upcoming trip to Thailand feels different because it is not only about visiting Bangkok and Koh Tao but also about committing to an open water scuba diving certification. Bangkok will serve as the entry point, with its mix of convenience, food, and short stay before heading out. The real focus will be Koh Tao, which has become known worldwide for scuba diving courses and certification programs. Choosing this destination is as much about the practical aspect of access as it is about the chance to experience diving in clear waters.

Scuba diving certification is not just another holiday activity. It requires learning, practicing, and following safety procedures closely. There is a physical and mental aspect to being underwater, handling the gear, and trusting the process. The thought of breathing through a regulator and adjusting buoyancy is both exciting and slightly intimidating. The appeal is in gaining a skill that opens up possibilities for diving in different locations in the future, making it an investment beyond just this trip.

Koh Tao has built its identity around diving, and that makes it a natural choice for this step. The island has schools, instructors, and an environment shaped for beginners and experienced divers alike. The open water course takes a few days, with classroom sessions, confined water practice, and then dives in the ocean. The idea of finishing the certification there means returning from the trip not only with memories but also with a globally recognized credential. This feels more purposeful than a regular holiday.

Travel also plays its part in shaping the experience. Koh Tao is not the easiest place to reach, but that isolation contributes to its character. The ferry connections and distance from the busy mainland make it less crowded than some other tourist-heavy spots. That in itself gives the course a better setting, with fewer distractions and more focus on the activity. Bangkok, on the other hand, provides the contrast of urban energy before and after the island days. Together, they make the trip balanced in its own way.

Overall, the anticipation is not just about the locations but the learning and growth that will come with it. Doing the open water scuba diving certification in Koh Tao will be a personal milestone and a skill that adds a new dimension to travel. Thailand provides the right environment to make that possible, and this trip feels like the beginning of exploring a different side of adventure.

Heavy rain in Gurgaon changes the rhythm of the city almost instantly. Roads that otherwise carry a steady flow of traffic get submerged, and underpasses turn into small ponds within hours. The drainage infrastructure seems unable to cope with even a few hours of downpour, leading to long traffic jams and flooded colonies. Each monsoon shows how quickly urban spaces can reach a breaking point when natural forces test the systems meant to keep them functional.

The sight of vehicles half-submerged on key roads has become familiar, and people often share images of office workers wading through knee-deep water. For a city that represents modern corporate India, these episodes underline how infrastructure development has not kept pace with population density and construction. Gurgaon has expanded rapidly with glass towers, gated communities, and malls, but the basic need for proper drainage is still unmet. Rain simply exposes this imbalance more sharply than any other event.

It is also striking how predictable this disruption has become. Residents know which stretches will flood, which basements will get waterlogged, and how long it will take for traffic to move again. Yet year after year, the problem repeats itself with no long-term solution in sight. The difference between promise and delivery in urban planning is most visible during these heavy showers. At the same time, people adapt, reroute, and continue with their routines, showing how resilience fills the gaps left by inadequate systems.

The flooding is not just an inconvenience for commuters but also affects daily life in residential areas. Water often enters ground floors, lifts stop functioning, and basic movement becomes difficult. Some societies have invested in temporary solutions such as pumps, but those are reactive measures. The larger question is how a city that serves as a hub for finance and technology still struggles with water management. The contrast between ambition and execution grows sharper with every season.

Every time it rains like this, I am reminded that Gurgaon is a city built on aspiration but stretched by reality. The ambition to build a modern hub was clear, but the foundations were not laid with equal attention. Until water drainage and city planning are addressed with seriousness, rain will continue to reveal these cracks. For now, each heavy shower is a reminder of both the potential and the limitations of living in Gurgaon.

The experience of organizing a frontend hackathon makes me reflect on how coding interviews have changed in the last few years. Tools like Cursor, Copilot, and large language models have become central to how developers approach writing code. In the past, an interview would often test the ability to recall syntax, implement algorithms from scratch, and debug without external help. Today, the process is different because the default assumption is that these tools exist and can be used. This changes both the expectations of what a candidate can demonstrate and the meaning of practical coding skills.

The reliance on AI assistance shifts the focus from memorization to orchestration. A developer is now less about typing every line correctly and more about structuring the problem, guiding the tool toward a solution, and knowing when the output makes sense or fails. This is a useful shift because in real work environments, nobody writes code in a vacuum. At the same time, it raises questions about what is being measured in interviews. If the goal is to assess the depth of understanding, then giving space for debugging sessions or architectural discussions may be more revealing than timed implementation exercises where AI fills the gaps.

Debugging remains the skill that separates surface-level competence from real problem-solving. Even with LLMs generating code, the ability to trace why something is failing, how dependencies interact, and where the logic breaks cannot be outsourced fully. A candidate who only knows how to prompt tools without verifying or correcting results will struggle when systems behave unexpectedly. This is why hackathons often expose more about how someone thinks under pressure than about their ability to deliver a polished product. The code may be partially AI-generated, but the process of integrating, fixing, and deploying shows whether the person understands what is happening.

Another effect of this shift is that interviews emphasizing data structure puzzles or abstract algorithms feel less relevant. They were never a perfect proxy for practical software development, but now they are even further removed from reality. The interview formats that align more closely with actual workflows—building small features, improving existing code, or designing components—seem better suited for evaluating ability. This does not eliminate the need for theoretical grounding, but it acknowledges that knowing how to apply it in an environment rich with automation is what matters most.

Looking ahead, the question is not whether these tools will stay but how hiring processes adapt. A fair interview in today’s context should test how someone uses AI responsibly, how they debug when AI is wrong, and how they design for maintainability. Conducting the frontend hackathon reminded me that the measure of a developer is shifting from rote execution toward judgment, clarity of thought, and the capacity to make sense of complexity. Coding interviews will have to reflect that reality if they want to remain meaningful.