The Little Lies We All Tell...

Ever told a lie, and felt that little flutter inside?  Don't worry.  You're in good company.  Almost everyone on this planet has done it at least once.  Lying is as old as language itself: Habitual, impulsive, convenient, or just reluctant.

Remember school days?  You went to a wedding, but told the teacher, "Ma'am, I had fever."  The plot doesn't change much.  Years later, while sharing beer with friends, you get a call from your spouse.  Without hesitation you say: "stuck in a meeting!"

I once had a colleague who rushed in late for a major presentation.  His excuse?  "My car's carburetor broke. Had to call a mechanic."  Only one issue.  His car was diesel.  Diesel engines don't have carburetors.  We tried hard not to laugh.  

Lesson: if you're going to lie, at least Google it first!

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Most times, we lie to escape embarrassment or avoid trouble.  But are all lies harmful?  No.  Consider the "white lie" you tell a friend, "You look great in that shirt".   Just a gentle "feel good" nudge.  These are featherweights compared to what we tell ourselves: "We're not ready for that task; we'll do it tomorrow."  These ones dress up as caution, common sense, or self-compassion, making them harder to detect.

So where does this leave us?  History celebrates figures known for their unwavering honesty - people who built their entire reputations on never telling a lie, not even once.  Respect!  Yet in real life, being 100% truthful every single second, is hard.  Still, trying to be more honest each day, does make us better human beings.

And here's a playful question to end with: 

Who do you think lies most - politicians when they make promises, or us when we say "I'm five minutes away" while still in pajamas? 😄

Let's promise to catch our little lies and smile at them.  

Small steps towards big truth!

The Vanishing Melody, Broken Harmony

As a schoolkid, I often accompanied my family to temple festivals.  Evenings were dedicated to singers performing popular film songs.  The challenge before my family elders was to identify the raaga, each tune was based on.  Unlike many of today's keyboard composers, the music directors of that era were masters of improvisation, weaving unique melodies from classical roots.  Recognizing those ragas was our delightful puzzle.

We always sat far from the loudspeaker horns tied high in the trees.  We knew it was the melody, not the noise, that truly brought joy to our ears and souls.

Today, the soundscape has changed.  Volume is king.  Heavy beats overwhelm the tune.  In just a couple of decades, cacophony has taken over.  And this transformation in music reflects something deeper, a wider cultural shift away from subtlety toward excess.

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Classical dance forms, which demand years of discipline, now struggle for attention against cinematic freestyle moves that require none.  Tennis, once admired as a graceful game of "touch," is now dominated by raw power.  Even marriage ceremonies, once brief and solemn, have ballooned into multi-day, high-decibel spectacles.

Our festivals too tell the same story.  Rituals once performed with reverence are now executed with an aggression that pollutes rivers and even causes stampedes.  What was meant to unite us has become a mindless contest of loudness, as if devotion is measured in decibels.

But real joy is never loud.  Happiness resonates in a different register.  It rests in silence that offers peace, in calm that renews hope.  The maestros understood this.  Their music had a soul because it breathed.  The space between notes mattered as much as the notes themselves.

And so in a quiet corner at home, headphones on, away from noisy get-togethers and restless crowds, I sit wondering: 

The most powerful note is often the one you barely hear.

What do you think? Share your thoughts. 

Build Bridges, Not Battlefields: Why Do We Argue?

We’ve all seen it.  A friendly chat turning into a heated argument.  Voices rise, tempers flare, and the goal quietly shifts from sharing ideas to proving who’s “right.”  Nobody really wins, except maybe the popcorn guy watching from the sidelines!

So why do we argue?:

Most of the time, we want to be heard, respected or taken seriously.  That quick burst of “victory” feels good for a moment, until we realise we’ve scorched a perfectly good relationship, and gained nothing but hurt feelings.

The better way:

Shift from a fighting mood to a learning mindset.  Next time when the temperature rises, pause.  Take a beath.  Ask yourself: "Do I want to be right, or do I want to stay connected?" 

Tone makes all the difference.  Soften it.  Choose gentler words.  Move from “I think you're wrong…” to “Tell me what you think…?”  Listen as if there’s a test later.  And a little warm, self-deprecating humour can work wonders; just keep it kind, not sarcastic.  Remember, understanding someone isn't surrender; it's opening a door.

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An Age-Old Truth

Over two thousand years ago, Akṣapāda Gautama founded the Nyāya (Logic) school of philosophy and composed the Nyāya Sūtras, its foundational treatise.  Centuries later, Annam Bhaṭṭa distilled these ideas in his classic Tarka‑saṅgraha, writing:

“True debate is a joint search for truth, not a battle to defeat the other person.”

Modern psychology repackaged this insight in fancier words.  Some popular titles worth exploring:

* Games People Play – Eric Berne

* I’m OK, You’re OK – Thomas Harris

* How to Get What You Want Without Having to Argue – Claude Steiner

Last word:

Nobody ever changed their mind because someone yelled louder.  And nobody ends life celebrating an argument they won about pizza toppings!

Choose the bridge. Choose curiosity. The world already has enough battles.

LUCK: The Whisper We Keep Chasing

We've all felt it - that invisible force we call luck.  

• Easy questions in an exam? - Lucky break.  
• Fail anyway? - Bad luck.  
• A sudden accident? - Unlucky.  
• Walk away with just a scratch? - Miraculous luck.

Luck is the name we give to random, unexplained events.  It tilts the scales, sometimes in our favor, sometimes against.  We notice it most in moments that don't make sense. 

Why are we obsessed with luck?  

Because luck gives hope without rules.  You don’t need talent, money, or lineage.  Just the right moment.  When efforts fail, luck keeps our dreams alive.  More than believe in it, we bargain with it.  We wear gemstones that “activate prosperity,” tie sacred threads, hang yantras on our walls.  We pay experts to “fix” our luck, redesign homes to appease Vastu, cancel meetings because the time isn’t auspicious.  A black cat crosses the road and we brake.  A hotel room ends in 13 and we flinch.  

Luck is full-time business.

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Do these charms work?  

Nobody knows.  What we do know is that they offer comfort when life feels unpredictable.  They soothe the mind.  They help us believe life is negotiable, though no ring or ritual can replace genuine desire or hard work.

Can we change our luck?  

We can’t control chance, but we can control how often chance finds us.  Psychologist Richard Wiseman studied chronically “lucky” people and found something surprising.  They aren’t magical. They’re simply more open, more curious, more observant, and quicker to bounce back when things go wrong. 

Luck vs. Fortune

Think of luck as a quick, random spark—a lottery win. 

Fortune is the lasting fire—the legacy you build over time.

Luck is like WiFi: invisible, always around, noticed only when you’re connected.

So what’s the luckiest moment of your life?  Share it.  Someone else might find hope in your story.

A Bow, A Smile, and A Lesson in Civic Sense

Thirty years ago at Osaka's Marubiru subway station, my friend tossed a cigarette pack onto the spotless platform.  A Japanese guy picked it up, and dropped it in the bin.  No anger, no lecture.  Just a bow, and smile.  Dignity in action.  That moment changed how I see the world.

Civic sense isn't just following rules.  It's about creating an environment where everyone feels valued and respected.  Without it, we will see litter on streets, spitting in public, shouting in quiet zones, jumping queues.  These aren't just annoyances.  They're symptoms of a mindset that erodes the quality of life for everyone.

Think of civic sense as your seventh sense.   It guides how you use your other six:  Sight, Sound, Smell, Touch, Taste, and Intuition.  It whispers: “We’re in this together.”  The simple idea that our convenience should not become someone else's inconvenience. 

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A sharp civic sense means:

* Seeing litter and picking it up, even when it's not yours

* Hearing the need for silence and choosing to preserve it

* Smelling the stench of neglect in public spaces and taking action

* Touching public property with the same care as your own

* Tasting the quiet joy of order and respect 

* Feeling the impact of our actions, even when no one’s watching. 

Why is it fading? 

Apathy.  Weak enforcement.  Cultural blind spots.  The “me-first” mindset.  The tragedy of the commons: “It’s not my problem, so why care?” 

How do we build it back? 

* Lead by example. Action is more persuasive than preaching.

* Try the 10-second rule: if a good deed takes 10 seconds, do it

* Be kind. Even digital spaces are shared spaces

Civic sense isn't a burden or sacrifice.  It's a superpower that makes daily life cleaner, kinder, and more joyful - not just for others, but for you too.

Start small.  Choose "we" over "me." 

Watch the ripple of positivity it creates.