A message to all my readers When I first began writing down my stories in this quiet space, it was nothing more than an open diary. A place to put memories that needed somewhere to rest, reflections gathered over a lifetime, and thoughts that felt too personal—or perhaps simply too ordinary—to share in conversation. Conventional wisdom often suggests that personal musings rarely accomplish much on the wider internet. There are no frameworks here, no quick advice, and no polished agendas. Just the raw textures of life as I have experienced it: the sudden turns, the quiet routines, the moments of doubt, and the steady work of beginning again. Recently, as a small corner quietly crossed 30,000 reads, I paused to look more closely at the numbers. What moved me was not just the milestone itself, but where those visits were coming from. While some readers join from home here in India, so many of you are reading from entirely different corners of the earth—from Singapore across the seas ...
I have been the errand boy for money since many years and going back and forth between the banks for various reasons has been my enterprise. I have seen banks transition from manual to digital, from hand-counted to machine counted, stapled bundles to wrapped bundles of currency notes and handwritten to electronically balanced passbooks. Whatever, I may have left in this transition history is due to Google not being able to access the site as my home internet has a narrow bandwidth verging into being more obsolete than the dial up connection of BSNL. Recently, I drew a wad of notes to deposit in my loan account and as luck would have it the server never obliged. I walked out, back to my home in 41 degrees Celsius, shielded with a face mask and an over sized white apron maintaining my Coronavirus protection and me ready to dehydrate, pining for water. Yet, the next day I walked again to my holy grail at half past seven in the morning to finish my half-baked project. This time the ca...