Learnings

How Grit Quietly Breaks Invisible Walls We Carry

Change is never dramatic or sudden. Instead, it creeps in quietly on the backs of moments you barely notice—the times you keep moving when every part of you wants to stop. It’s like rubbing two sticks together to make fire. The sparks are faint and frustrating at first, but if you don’t give up, eventually there’s a flame that catches. Most of us walk around under an invisible ceiling, a limit we never named but learned to live inside. It’s not a solid wall. It’s more like cracked glass ready to shatter when enough pressure builds. Those …

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The Mathematics of Becoming Different

"Sometimes you have to fire yourself from who you've been to make room for who you're becoming." The Email I Never Sent The email sat in my drafts folder for three weeks before I finally deleted it. I'd written a resignation letter to myself—not from any job, but from the version of me that kept promising change while delivering minor adjustments. The letter felt dramatic at the time, maybe even foolish, but something about putting those words on screen made me confront a pattern I'd been dancing around for months. I'd …

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When Obsession Quietly Changes Everything

The air in my room that night felt heavy—a damp, silent blanket pressing close while the city outside pulsed with its usual noise. My old ceiling fan ticked and whined, not providing relief so much as a reminder of Chennai’s relentless, sticky heat. There I was again, hunched over a laptop glowing with a single, stubborn design problem, ignoring the distant sound of friends laughing somewhere easier. My phone kept buzzing nearby, but I let those messages wait. Right then, nothing mattered except wrangling that glitch into submission, even …

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A House I Can Live In

Proof over plans. Receipts over rhetoric. A rainy trail below Bhrigu taught me a plain rule: confidence isn’t a feeling; it’s proof. Since then, I’ve been paying in small, private promises and building something sturdier than applause. Tonight the ceiling fan hums like it owes me nothing while I run a quiet check:Did I keep one promise today—not a makeover, not a master plan, just one small thing I said I’d do. I did, just about, and my body understands the receipt; my shoulders drop and sleep comes closer. I like starting here …

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Built for Storms

How discomfort became my teacher—and why I keep saying yes to weather, work, and what-ifs You don’t build grit in comfort. You build it under heat, hunger, and hail. I didn’t first learn grit in the mountains. It started on the streets of Chennai, back when I was a college student with more stubbornness than strategy. I designed my own survival drills and called them “Marketing Experiments.” The rules were clean and cruel: pick an unknown street, arrive with no plan or money, and earn enough that day to buy a meal and a …

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Stop Letting Yourself Off the Hook

If there’s one thing I’ve perfected, it’s the art of the excuse. I could write a book about the clever detours I’ve invented to sidestep my own plans. The thing is, after a while, those little “not todays” don’t sound clever at all. They’re just heavy. They pile up, get dusty, and start to crowd out the part of me that actually wants more from life. No one ever warned me how sneaky excuses could be. They slip in quietly, wearing the mask of logic and self-care, telling me I’ll be ready tomorrow, or that I deserve a break, or that someone …

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I Don’t Climb to Reach the Summit. I Climb So I Don’t Abandon Myself Halfway.

Most people think the challenge is the mountain. It isn’t.The real challenge is staying with yourself when it gets hard—when your body wants to stop, when your mind starts spinning stories, and when walking away would be so much easier than walking forward.This isn’t a story about summits. It’s about the distance between who I’ve been and who I’m becoming—measured one uneven, breathless step at a time. I’ve done seven Himalayan treks in the past fifteen and a half months.Not because I’m an adrenaline junkie or looking for transformation. I …

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Quiet Work, Loud Returns

There are no lights. No music. Just a stubborn chair and the kind of work that waits in silence, asking who you are when no one’s clapping. The coffee’s cold again. The inbox is piling up. That project you felt proud of last week is now a quiet weight. Still, you return. Not out of obligation, but because something in you knows this is where real things are made—in the ordinary, unglamorous middle. This stretch never makes the highlight reel. Not the launch. Not the win. Just the quiet continuity where doubt lingers and progress hides. …

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