Author: Suresh Dinakaran

 

Your lens dictates your drama. Adjust focus accordingly.

 

The pessimist sees darkness in the tunnel.The optimist sees light at the end of the tunnel.The realist sees a train. The train driver sees three idiots standing on the tracks.

 

Welcome to Planet Perspective.There are many ways to view the world.Some people zoom in.Others zoom out.And some…well, they just hit “mute” on reality and stream their own episode of Life According to Me, Myself & I. And you know what? That’s not a bug. That’s a feature. Because how you see the world changes everything – your choices, your failures, your fashion sense (I’m looking at you, socks-and-sandals guy), and most importantly, your impact.

 

For example, take a look at the iconic Gulzar‘s writing for a moment: Where most see words as tools, he sees them as threads to stitch the soul. He doesn’t write songs. He writes emotional earthquakes in lowercase. “Humne dekhi hai un aankhon ki mehekti khushboo.” Come on, who sees fragrance in eyes? Only someone who isn’t colorblind to feelings. Yup. Smell. In eyes. Try that on your ChatGPT and see it throw a syntax tantrum. Point is: Genius is just seeing the world through a different filter.

 

Reframing isn’t just a brand positioning or therapy term. When life hands you lemons, do you…make lemonade? Ask for salt and tequila? File a lawsuit for emotional citrus trauma? You choose. Always. Perspective is the original, OG Augmented Reality. No headset required. Just a mindset upgrade. When life gives you lemons, squeeze them over ribs and call it gourmet!

 

What we need to delete in hyper hurry including but not restricted to: ” This is how it’s always been done.” — The world’s most boring epitaph. “Let’s play it safe.” — Translation: Let’s park our creativity in a coma.“What will people say?” — Usually uttered right before nothing legendary ever happens.

 

The world is not what it is. It is how you look at it. Same world. Different eyeballs. Some people see crisis. Others see startup ideas. One person sees rain and cancels plans. Another sees it as free car wash and emotional background score.

The world is not just a place; it’s a perspective. It’s a kaleidoscope of possibilities, a playground of interpretations, and sometimes, a stage for rib-tickling humor. Whether you’re gazing at the horizon or scrolling through your social media feed, the way you view the world is what shapes your narrative. And guess what? It can be as racy, provocative, and inspiring as you want it to be.

 

Imagine this: two people standing on the same beach. One sees a breathtaking sunset painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. The other grumbles about sand in their shoes. Same scene, different lenses.Life is like that—your view is your choice, your story.

 

Most of us are trapped in perspectives so restrictive we make Victorian corsets look like freedom wear. We are intellectual virgins claiming to be worldly – peeking at life through a keyhole while pretending we’ve seen the whole orgy.

 

So the narrative we need to be telling ourselves is: Currently in an open relationship with multiple perspectives. Because, monogamy is for the intellectually insecure.

 

F. Scott Fitzgerald famously wrote: “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless yet be determined to make them otherwise.” Cognitive dissonance if you may. It is the Mental 69 of holding two opposing views simultaneously.

 

Most of us treat perspectives like monogamous relationships – we commit to one and defend it to the death. Try intellectual polyamory instead. When facing any situation, force yourself to hold two completely contradictory perspectives simultaneously: That coworker who drives you insane? They’re both an insufferable narcissist AND potentially your greatest teacher. That failed project? It’s both a humiliating disaster AND the setup for your greatest comeback story.

 

Your brain will resist this mental pretzel position at first, but stick with it. The tension between opposing viewpoints creates a friction zone where your best insights are born.

 

Whatever your instinctive perspective on an issue, completely flip your default position– so, saddle up and ride it in the opposite direction. If you’re a capitalism-loving entrepreneur, spend a day deeply considering how communal ownership might solve problems. If you’re a tech-loving futurist, consider how returning to ancestral practices might heal modern ailments.

 

When facing a problem, invoke specific people (real or fictional) and view it through their eyes. Bring a third-party into your thinking. How would your grandmother approach your career dilemma? What would Batman do about your noisy neighbors? How would Marie Kondo organize your conflicting priorities?

 

Here’s the raw truth: your perspective isn’t who you are – it’s just what you’re wearing to the party right now. And like any outfit, you can change it whenever you want. Most people treat their worldview like it’s surgically attached to their identity, when really it’s more like those snap-on collars priests wear – functional but completely removable.

 

The most dangerous words in any language are “that’s just how I see things.” It’s the intellectual equivalent of announcing you’ve retired from growth and are now comfortable being mentally constipated for the remainder of your existence.

 

So if you permit me to throw a filthy challenge: For the next week, mentally undress from your default perspective daily and try on something inappropriate, revealing, and possibly illegal in several southern states. View your job through the eyes of a high-end escort. Consider your family dynamics from the perspective of a cult leader. Approach your fitness goals like a victorian-era explorer discovering new territories. Then notice how your mental groin muscles feel – deliciously sore in ways you didn’t know were possible.

 

The world isn’t just black and white. It’s a kaleidoscope of delusions, genius, and outright absurdity—often all at once. Buckle up. We’re about to take a joyride through perspectives so wild, they’ll make your GPS quit in protest.

 

Breaking news: Your best ideas are being held in a conservative boarding school. Jailbreak thoughts follow!

 

Yes, you heard right. Your grandma once turned leftover rice into an almost Michelin 7-course meals, made sweaters from scrap wool, and managed a household budget with the precision of NASA. She didn’t call it “Design Thinking.” She called it Wednesday. Yes, her. The original OG of Wide-Open Thinking. Was Marie Kondo before it was cool. Did lean innovation in a 2 Bedroom Hall Kitchen with 7 kids and no YouTube tutorials.

 

Wide open thinking urges you to leave your mind to find the magic. If your mind were a door, would it be a revolving one letting all sorts of wild ideas spin through, or more like that heavy medieval thing with the giant padlock that hasn’t been oiled since the Dark Ages?

 

Hey there, fellow brain-owners! Here’s attempting another slice of mental nutrition that’ll have your neurons(hopefully) doing the electric slide. Let’s dive diving into the cosmic pool of wide-open thinking–that delicious state where your mind is less like a filing cabinet and more like a trampoline park for ideas.

 

Most of us walk around with our thinking wrapped in mental Spanx – everything squeezed into acceptable shapes, no room for the jiggly bits that make life interesting. We’ve been programmed since kindergarten to color inside the lines, give the “right” answers, and for heaven’s sake, don’t be the weirdo who suggests we could solve traffic problems with trained dolphins. (Though honestly, I’d like to see the feasibility study on that one.)

 

Picture this: You are in a meeting where what was needed was a fresh approach to customer service strategy. The room was quieter than a library during a power outage. Finally, you blurt out, “What if we treated every customer complaint like a marriage proposal?” Confused stares ensue. But then something magical happens – people started riffing:

 

“We’d need to get down on one knee…” “We’d have to consider it an honor they chose us…” “We’d remember every anniversary of the complaint…”

 

That ridiculous metaphor unlocks a completely fresh perspective. By dinner, you had overhauled your entire response protocol with genuine appreciation at its core.

 

Wide-open thinking isn’t just about being random – it’s about creating space for connections that your tightly-wound, efficiency-obsessed mind would normally filter out.

 

Mental nudity is a thinking style that they don’t want you to try. Let’s cut the foreplay: most of us are thinking with our clothes on. We’ve been intellectually domesticated, taught to keep our wildest ideas properly covered and never flash our most provocative thoughts in public. We sit in meetings like mental virgins, terrified someone might notice our unorthodox bulges of creativity.

 

Intellectual promiscuity is a virtue. Our brain should sleep around with ideas from completely unrelated fields. Ever thought about the connection that brand Michelin(the tyre company) would have with fine dining and chefs? The connection makes no sense to our hardwired for default set up mind until suddenly it’s the best idea they’ve ever had, clothes off, lights on.

 

Here’s the dirty truth, friends: our brain came factory-equipped with all these kinky capabilities, but somewhere along the way, society convinced you that intellectual modesty was the way to get ahead. It’s like owning a top-shelf pleasure palace but only using the guest bathroom.

 

Wide-open thinking isn’t some exotic technique – it’s your natural state before the world made you put your mental pants on. Your childhood self knew it. That uncensored kid would announce that clouds looked like butts and ask why the neighbor’s breath smelled like daddy’s special juice. That kid wasn’t worried about intellectual decorum. Wide-open thinking isn’t just mental skinny-dipping – it’s about removing the chastity belt from your creativity and letting it get properly satisfied.

 

It is playing the ‘ what-if ‘ game with gay abandon. What if gravity worked in reverse every Tuesday? What if we solved this like we were pirates? Time travelers? Kindergartners? The magic happens not in the absurdity but in the connections your brain makes while romping through these mental playgrounds.

 

Toymaker, inventor, and author Roger von Oech on wide-open thinking: “The amount a person uses their imagination is inversely proportional to the amount of punishment they will receive for using it.”

 

The quickest way to slam shut an open mind is with “but,” “however,” or “that won’t work.” Instead, try responding to ideas – even the seemingly bonkers ones – with “Yes, and…” Watch what happens when you water seeds instead of stamping on them.

 

Multiple gratifications that emerge from wide-open thinking includes but not restricted to problems dissolving by themselves even before you begin to tackle them. Because instead of starting at the four walls, you are seeing around corners. As Rita McGrath puts it, when spring sets in and snow begins to melt, it melts at the edges as that is where it is most exposed. Your dopamine and joy levels skyrocket simply because you are making connections that nobody has thought of before. And not in the least, you become a magnet for other interesting humans. Open-minded people find each other like those weird fish with the glowing bulbs on their heads find mates in the deep sea. It’s science. So permit yourself this intellectual debauchery, as often as possible.

 

Ever had one of those days when your brain feels like it’s running on Windows 95? You stare at a problem, blink like an over caffeinated owl, and think,“Surely, there’s a better way… or at least a funnier one?”
That’s when Wide-Open Thinking barges in—wearing a Hawaiian shirt, holding a margarita, and asking, “Why so serious?” Wide-Open Thinking is the art of ditching the mental guardrails and letting your brain do double somersaults.

 

So, here’s the deal, a Cosmic Close, if you may-our brain came with all these fantastic features pre-installed, but somewhere along the way, somebody convinced us to operate at minimum capacity. It’s like owning a Ferrari but never taking it out of first gear. Wide-open thinking isn’t something you need to learn – it’s something you need to remember. Your five-year-old self was an expert at it. That kid knew that a cardboard box could be a spaceship on Tuesday and a submarine on Wednesday. That kid wasn’t worried about looking foolish or wasting time on impractical ideas.

 

Wide-Open Thinking is giving your inner rebel a megaphone. It’s ignoring “best practices”– because nothing revolutionary ever came from a PowerPoint slide titled “Synergistic Paradigm Shifts.” It is Leaning into the absurd– Like pitching a “Netflix for Naps”startup and accidentally inventing the next billion-dollar laziness economy.  Or Laughing in the face of “professionalism”– If your brainstorming session doesn’t include at least one idea that makes HR nervous, you’re doing it wrong.

 

Wide-open thinking isn’t just a mindset—it’s a lifestyle upgrade. So ditch your mental sweatpants and start stretching your brain in ways that make life richer, funnier, and infinitely more rewarding. Remember: Someday isn’t a day—it’s just never wearing a tuxedo. Choose Today.

 

 

 

You know what’s harder than climbing Everest? Preparing to climb Everest.

 

The average over-preparer will buy 17 books on mountain climbing (“Gotta understand the theory of altitude sickness!”), join 8 Facebook Groups( the hunt is on for Who will be my Sherpa?), do a 6-month course on Nepalese weather patterns (“Monsoon isn’t the vibe, bro”) and lets not forget Get custom-made thermal underwear (“Swiss technology, if you may”). Meanwhile,  the doer? They’re already at Base Camp, sipping coffee, posting a selfie with the caption: Cold AF. Worth it.  The moral of the story here is- you’re either doing the thing or becoming a Wikipedia page about the thing. Period.

 

Preparation is the adult version of “5 more minutes”when your mom dragged you out of bed for school. Preparation becomes a place to hide. Here’s the filthy truth about preparation: it’s intellectual masturbation. All of the pleasure of productivity with none of the mess or commitment of actually producing something. It’s the productivity equivalent of swiping through dating profiles at 2 AM while eating ice cream in bed—exciting possibilities with zero risk of actual human contact. Where you are a mute but willing spectator of a strip tease show called ” almost ready “.

 

I once spent so long researching the perfect morning routine that the sun literally set and rose again. There I was, bleary-eyed at dawn, reading about the benefits of sleep while actively destroying my own. The irony was not lost on me, but the productivity high was too good to resist.

 

We are all familiar with these eternal preparers: The Gym Bro – Researches keto vs. paleo for 11 months. Unfortunately, still looks like a boiled potato. The Entrepreneur– Attends 47 webinars on “mindset.” Startup? “Next financial year. The Writer – Buys a ₹15k ergonomic chair, Moleskine, and 12 highlighters. Page 1: “Chapter 1… maybe.

 

Meanwhile the doers aka Steve Jobs – Didn’t take a “How to Be Visionary” course. Just built Apple in a garage. Or SRK– Didn’t wait for “perfect looks.” Just became King Khan with one crooked smile. The universe doesn’t give a damn about our 5-year plan. It only rewards movement.

 

The world doesn’t reward your potential. It rewards our output. Nobody claps for the warm-up act. They’re waiting for the main event. So address the FOMO( Fear of Making Output).

 

There are two species out there. The “ Screw it, let’s do it” gang. And, the “ Wait, I need a vision board, mood board, Pinterest board, and four lattes” crew. You know which one builds rockets. You know which one’s still stuck on Canva.

 

So, Attention Please: You can’t Netflix your way into purpose. You can’t TED Talk your way into momentum. And you sure as hell can’t “plan” your way out of a rut.

 

Doing > Dreaming.
Starting > Strategizing.
Failing fast > Finessing forever.

 

The brutal truth is that the world doesn’t need your prep. It needs your punch. Nobody’s hiring for “potential.” They’re hiring for people who show up, screw up, and still level up.

 

You can’t go viral in your drafts folder, can you? When you’re preparing, you’re still the hot, mysterious stranger at the bar of life. Your idea is still the untouched fantasy, perfect in every way. The moment you start doing, you risk the morning-after reality: your idea has flaws, execution leaves you sweaty and uncertain, and you might—clutch thin air—need to improve through failure.

 

Preparation has an expiration date. Prepare enough to not be completely reckless, then dive in. The water might be cold, you might splash awkwardly, but at least you’ll be swimming while everyone else is still reading “The Ultimate Guide to Perfect Pool Entry Techniques.” So what are you going to DO today, not just prepare to do? Whatever it is—that email you’re drafting in your head, that conversation you’re rehearsing, that project gathering dust—consider this your sign. Close the preparation tab. Open the doing tab.  Your idea is DOA if it never leaves your head. No one claps for your to-do list. They clap when sh*t’s DONE.

 

I’ll be right here, not preparing to cheer you on, but actually cheering you on.

 

Your Call to Uncomfortably Awesome Action: Launch that blog. Even if it’s ugly. Post that video. Even if your lighting sucks. Write that book. Even if your grammar limps. Propose that idea. Even if it’s half-baked. Because newsflash: You’ll bake it better once it’s out in the world’s oven.

 

Now go do the thing, you magnificent human. Because your idea just called. It wants a pulse, not a plan.

 

Some final words from the gospel of GSD(Get Shit Done)–Life is a buffet. Preparing is just staring at the menu. Dig in. Chew loud. Make a mess. Repeat.

 

The chronic someday syndrome is where dreams go to indefinitely detained.

 

Someday is just a fancy word for ‘never‘ in a tuxedo, winking at you while it steals your life one postponed dream at a time. If broken promises were currency, our ‘someday‘ collection would make us the Jeff Bezos of disappointment.

 

Ah, someday. That magical land where all your fitness goals, passion projects, and tough conversations live happily ever after…while you binge another series on Netflix. The greatest love story ever told isn’t Romeo and Juliet—it’s you and your undying passion for the word someday.

 

The Someday Club is that exclusive organization where the membership fee is paid in unfulfilled dreams and the only activity is kicking cans down increasingly lengthy roads.

 

The problem with someday is that it’s the most crowded day of the week. Everyone’s got big plans for someday. Calendars around the world have someday completely booked until approximately the heat death of the universe.

 

If economists could measure the GDP of Someday Land( let’s call it the Someday Economy), it would dwarf the actual economy. Billions of unwritten books, un started businesses, unlearned skills, and unfulfilled dreams—all safely stored in the vault of “I’ll get to it later.”

 

The psychology of perpetual postponement is what makes someday so seductive. It gives us all the emotional benefits of commitment without any of the sweaty, uncomfortable work of actually doing something. It’s like ordering a treadmill and feeling healthier just because the confirmation email is sitting in your inbox.

Someday is just ‘never‘ wearing a fancy outfit and cologne. Someday is cognitive cocaine. It gives you all the dopamine of achievement without any of the inconvenient sweating or potential failure. Why actually write that novel when thinking about writing it gives you nearly the same neurological satisfaction? It’s like relationship status: “It’s complicated”—except you’re in a toxic relationship with your own ambitions.

 

My friend—let’s call him “most people I know including myself”—has been talking about starting a podcast since 2018. He’s researched microphones. Created episode outlines. Designed logos. Practiced his radio voice. Even registered domain names. Everything except actually recording a single episode.

 

Why? Because in the magical land of someday, his podcast is already as successful as Joe Rogan’s without him having to face the soul-crushing reality that his first episodes would sound like a drunk walrus learning to speak English.

 

The entire scalable industrial complex( read productivity app industry) thrives on our collective delusion that downloading another task management app will finally transform us into the organized, focused achievers we pretend to be on LinkedIn. We don’t want actual productivity; we want the brief high of feeling like we might be productive… someday. Self-help gurus understand this too well—they’ve built billion-dollar empires selling the dream of “someday” without the uncomfortable accountability of “today.”

 

Assume that the book you have always wanted to write is parked in the expensive parking lot of someday real estate . Till the painful awakening about your “someday” novel, you write this in your journal: “I don’t actually want to write a book. I want to have written a book, preferably without the actual writing part, so I can casually mention it at parties and in my Instagram bio.” That humiliating admission will free up mental real estate that you’d been paying mortgage on for years.

 

That inspiring quote about ‘following your dreams’ doesn’t work if you schedule all your dreams for the fictional 8th day of the week. Why do we worship at the altar of later? Because “now” feels messy. Inconvenient. Sweaty. Now means facing the terror of a blank page. Now means moving your behind instead of moving your mouth. Now means taking the leap without the comfort of soft landing sponsored by Excel spreadsheets and SWOT analyses. We romanticize someday because it gives us permission to not do the damn thing today. It’s the emotional version of hitting “Snooze” on your life.

 

Someday is a scam because it never shows up. Because life keeps throwing better parties—urgent bills, performance reviews, in-laws, IPL finals. You name it.You’re not lazy. You’re just overbooked by BS. And someday is the bouncer who keeps your dreams outside the club.

 

J.K. Rowling could’ve said, “Someday I’ll write about that boy wizard.”But she chose “Platform 9¾ Today.” Colonel Sanders started KFC at 65. Imagine if he waited till someday when his arthritis would’ve flared up worse than hot wings. Your neighbourhood yoga instructor, the one who quit a corporate job to teach breath work to burnt-out bankers? Yeah, she strangled her someday with a resistance band and went full Namaste on the Now.

 

You don’t need a sign.You don’t need a guru.You don’t even need motivation. You need a tiny act of courage disguised as an email, a decision, a draft, or a deep breath.

 

Because the brutal truth is:“Someday is not a day. It’s a decision.”

 

And Today called. It wants to be useful.

 

Most of us behave as if we have an infinite number of tomorrows. Truth is our tomorrows are finite. So, get ready to Die Empty!

 

We have all been through this.You’re doom-scrolling through Twitter while your partner tells you about their terrible day. You nod, mumble “that sucks,” and keep thumbing through the endless feed of outrage. Sound familiar? Congratulations, you’re part of the empathy crisis that’s turning us all into emotional zombies.

 

Time to get real for a hot second. We’ve become so obsessed with optimizing our productivity, curating our Instagram aesthetic, and arguing with strangers online that we’ve forgotten how to do the one thing that actually makes us human: genuinely connecting with other people.

 

And the kicker? Empathy isn’t just some fluffy, feel-good concept for greeting cards. It’s a strategic advantage that can transform your career, relationships, and impact on the world. So listen up, because your emotional intelligence might be the only thing AI can’t replace about you. Yet, we are drowning in what one can call empathy drought.

 

In a world obsessed with IQ, armed with KPIs, and addicted to ROI, empathy is that quiet rebel sneaking out the back door… just before the team implodes.

 

Let’s look truth in the eye and get this out of the way: Contrary to perception, empathy is not a weakness, it is a frigging superpower. But most boardrooms treat it like lactose intolerance. A nuisance best avoided.

 

Introspect a bit here:- You’ve optimized funnels, automated workflows, A/B tested till your soul gave up. But when was the last time you gave a damn?

 

In a time when we can DM a stranger across the globe but struggle to connect with the person sitting next to us, empathy is more than a virtue—it’s survival gear. It’s what makes us human in an age of algorithms. Yet, practicing empathy feels as rare as spotting a tiger in the Sundarbans.

 

Take this: A recent study among Indian medical students found that empathy correlates positively with social support and negatively with stress. In other words, the more you care for others, the less likely you are to burn out yourself. Yet, empathy isn’t just for doctors or therapists; it’s for everyone who interacts with another human being—which is all of us.

 

The great irony is that everyone wants empathy. Will also secretly admit that it is(can be) a superpower. Yet, it is the one thing that gets severely under funded. We fund features. We fund “growth hacks.” We fund consultants who say “synergy” without flinching. We all say we want it in leaders, brands, lovers, friends. But when it comes to action—time, budgets, energy—empathy gets ghosted like a bad Tinder date. At work, we train for agility, we reward productivity, we chase efficiency… But who’s rewarding understanding? We promote the loudest voice in the room. Not the one who listened hardest.

 

Empathy? “Umm, sounds nice. But can we circle back Q3?”

 

Sure. By then, your customers will have circled back to someone who gives a damn.

 

If you think empathy is kumbaya with a corporate lanyard, you are horribly mistken. Time to call it out. Empathy is not sympathy in a suit. It’s not hugging it out at offsites. Empathy is actionable emotion. It’s insight with heart. It’s “walking a mile in someone else’s shoes” and then redesigning those shoes so they don’t hurt anymore. Look at Airbnb. When they shifted from “book a home” to “Belong anywhere,” they went from transaction to transformation. Result? IPO fireworks and loyalists who treat it like religion. Unilever’s Dove Campaign for Real Beauty? That’s empathy rewriting beauty standards. They didn’t market soap. They cleaned up the beauty industry’s self-esteem issues. And if you think empathy doesn’t belong in B2B… ask Hubspot or Zoho. They aren’t selling SaaS. They’re selling understanding. Wrapped in dashboards.

 

If you’re in marketing, branding, leadership, education, parenting, politics, therapy, or customer service, your biggest competitive edge is not strategy.
It’s empathy. Because strategy without empathy is just manipulation wearing cologne.

 

Empathy is NOT a hug in an HR workshop. Empathy is not namaste-flavored fluff. It’s not about being “nice.” It’s about being dangerously human. It’s: tuning in before you blurt out. Creating before calculating. Listening like your stock options depend on it. Real empathy walks into the room, flips the PowerPoint, and asks, “Why do we even exist for these people?”If that makes you sweat, good. That’s your humanity trying to reboot.

 

Brands like Nike, Apple, Dove, Airbnb don’t just sell. They understand.
And that’s why you give them your time, your money, and disturbingly, your loyalty.

 

Let’s zoom out for a moment. In Japan, Toyota’s leadership famously practices nemawashi, a decision-making process that involves consulting everyone affected by a decision before it’s made. Why? Because understanding others’ perspectives leads to better outcomes. Contrast this with Silicon Valley’s “move fast and break things” mantra, which often leaves empathy lying in the rubble.

 

If you pick up the cultural kaleidoscope, empathy looks different everywhere. Empathy isn’t one-size-fits-all; it wears different hats across cultures. In India, it might mean sharing your tiffin box with a colleague who forgot their lunch. In Scandinavian countries, it shows up as Janteloven, an unspoken law of humility and equality that fosters collective well-being.

 

But here’s the kicker: cultural empathy isn’t just about adapting to others; it’s about expanding your own worldview. As Forbes put it, “Empathy takes you beyond cultural understanding; it builds tolerance and appreciation for diversity”.

 

Empathy Is Contagious—Start the Epidemic. It is the Wi-Fi signal that connects us all. Because, the world doesn’t need more opinions—it needs more understanding.

Empathy is the most undervalued skill in a room full of overpaid people. So, don’t just scale. Feel something. Because, empathy is not a KPI—it’s the whole damn strategy. Where less data and more damn is the motto and the mojo. Where the act of listening is the most sought after( but not practiced) skill in the boardroom. Empathy doesn’t scream, it wins quietly. Then takes over everything. So sell less, feel more. Repeat.

 

So, here’s the deal: Empathy isn’t just about being kind; it’s about being smart. It builds trust, strengthens relationships, and even boosts your own happiness. So whether you’re leading a team or just trying to survive family WhatsApp groups, remember this: finding empathy isn’t hard—it’s just human.

 

In a world algorithmically optimized for attention but bankrupt on connection, empathy is your unfair advantage. It’s not just smart business.
It’s soulful capitalism. So the next time you enter a meeting, a pitch, a conversation— Don’t just bring your slides. Bring your spine. Bring your self-awareness. Bring your empathy.

 

Because, everything else is just PowerPoint foreplay.

 

Allow me some attribution first. The term Internet Sabbath is derived from “Technology Shabbat” or “Tech Shabbat,” which is a concept modeled on the traditional Jewish Shabbat, which was coined in 2010 by Tiffany Shlain and Ken Goldberg to describe a day of rest or cessation from technology with screens. 

 

The Internet Sabbath( can also be called Digital Detox) is where you refrain from network technology for 12 hours(or one day in a week). In the same way that the Sabbath in the Hebrew Bible induces a period of quiet and reflection well suited to appreciate God and his works, the Internet Sabbath is meant to remind us of what we miss when we are glued to a screen. No emails, no doom scrolling, no pretending to work while secretly watching cat videos. Just you, real life, and maybe a book that isn’t lit by LED.

 

Without any coercion or bribe, we have willingly donned the digital straitjacket. So, if we are labeled as digital junkies, thats a fitting pseudonym.

 

Our phones are the first thing we check in the morning and the last thing we see before bed. The average Indian smartphone user now clocks a jaw-dropping 4.7 hours daily on their device. Americans? Even worse at 5.4 hours. That’s nearly one-third of our waking lives!

 

“But Suresh,” you protest, “I need to be connected for work/family/the latest memes about existential dread!”

 

A candid confession. I hear you. I’m typing this blog post on a laptop while simultaneously checking WhatsApp notifications on my phone and streaming a documentary about—ironically—digital minimalism on my tablet. My hypocrisy should not be lost on me at least, isn’t it?

 

The irony that you’re reading this digital warning on a digital device isn’t lost on me. We’re all navigating this new territory together, trying to balance the undeniable benefits of connectivity with the very real costs to our mental health, relationships, and ability to sit quietly with our thoughts for more than 30 seconds without reaching for a device.

 

Your brain has officially been downgraded to “buffering.” Your thumb has more mileage than your car. And if one more app says “Are you still watching?” the answer is NO. I’m just rotting in digital purgatory, thanks.

 

As my 78-year-old uncle (a recent but enthusiastic WhatsApp addict) wisely noted: “In my day, we were unreachable most of the time, and somehow the world kept spinning.”

 

But perhaps that’s exactly why we need an Internet Sabbath—even a short one. Not because technology is evil, but because we need to remember that we control it, not the other way around.

 

An Internet Sabbath isn’t about rejecting tech; it’s about reclaiming choice.

 

We check our phones over 100 times a day. And brush our teeth twice(probably?). Priorities people? Contrary to what this might look like, this isn’t about going full hermit, renouncing Instagram, and raising goats in the Himalayas(Though… tempting, no?).

 

It’s about switching off to switch on. A Digital Detox—because let’s call a spade(or even a shovel), our dopamine receptors are fried, our thumbs have muscle memory for doom scrolling, and somewhere between your 478th WhatsApp forward and that 1 a.m. YouTube rabbit hole on ” how to fold a T Shirt in 6 seconds” or “how to escape a crocodile attack,” you lost your mind.

 

Digital Detoxes aren’t new. (Old)Monks were doing it before it was cool. Now the capitalist industrial complex hawks it with retreats, scented candles and hashtags that go #MindfulUnplugging. There’s even a place in Goa that offers “Digital Fasting” packages. Ironic, because they first DM you the brochure. Pot calling the kettle black anyone?

 

The great irony is that ” We are More Connected Than Ever ” and ” We Have Never Been More Disconnected Than Ever “.

 

The internet stayed true to its promise. Freedom. Or so we think. What we have is anxiety, insomnia, attention span of a fruit fly, and phantom phone vibrations that feel more real than your last relationship. Most of us are like a dopamine-deprived lab rat smashing the refresh button for crumbs of validation.

 

So, who’s the Knight in Shining Armor? Enter Digital Detox! NOT just a fancy phrase tossed around by kombucha-drinking tech bros in Silicon Valley or Goa or gyaan-quoting Insta therapists. It’s a survival tool. For your sanity. For your sleep. For your serotonin. And no, this doesn’t mean deleting every app and going off-grid like a cult fugitive.

 

It means pressing pause. Before life presses delete.

 

You don’t need to be weightlifter to weigh the pros and cons of Digital Detox. But yes, be ready to be surprised. You start doing things that you have never done in a long time. You start thinking again. And get membership into the mental gymnastics club. You make friends with your worst enemy a k a Sleep. Not the “just-one-more-reel-then-I’ll-sleep” kind. Actual REM(Rapid Eye Motion), baby. You begin to acknowledge(and use) an integral part of your anatomy. Your legs. Yes, you start walking. Go outside. Where birds live, chirp. You begin to make sense of your sensory organs viz tongue, eyes. You start having real conversations. And make eye contact while doing so. Hence, human decency makes a comeback.

 

Every coin has two sides. So, flip it and we could encounter some of these as well. You might hit the panic button. What if I miss a meme? Or a scandal? Or Alia Bhatt’s new skincare line??? People may actually talk to you. In real life. With breath. Yes, TALK. Be strong. It’s normal. No more hiding behind ‘busy ‘. You get real with your feelings. Not the reel ones. Thats perfectly fine. To err, is human.

 

Internet Sabbath: Yes please. Because your brain called. It wants a restraining order from your phone.

 

Internet Sabbath: Yes please. Because your soul is on airplane mode. And you are yet to notice it. 

 

Internet Sabbath: Because real life? It’s not clickable. It’s not filtered. It’s freaking magical—if you dare to look up.

 

Time to log out of your screen, log into your senses.

 

Here’s your sign.Take a break from the noise. Close the 42 tabs in your mind.Touch grass. Stare at the sky. Kiss your dog. Or your partner. Or your reflection, you narcissist.

 

Statutory Warning: May cause increased peace, clarity, and actual happiness. Side effects include making eye contact and rediscovering sunsets.

 

 

 

Lets begin with an imaginary tale of two storytellers:

 

Once upon a time, in a corporate jungle far, far away, two executives presented the same data. One put up a PowerPoint slide so dense it could stop a bullet. The other told a story about a struggling farmer in Vidarbha who turned his fate around with a single innovation. Guess who got the funding?

Stories aren’t just for bedtime—they’re the currency of influence, the weapon of persuasion, and sometimes, the last refuge of the desperate (looking at you, most politicians). But not all stories are created equal. Some scream for attention, some whisper wisdom, some inflate like a soufflé of self-importance, and some… well, some just make you swipe your credit card.

 

” In a world drowning in content but starving for meaning, it’s the stories that matter.“

 

Remember that time your aunt cornered you at a family gathering to recount—in excruciating detail—her recent dental surgery? That, my friend, is a story that yells. It demands attention without earning it. Now contrast that with the time you stayed up until 3 AM, bleary-eyed but unable to put down that thriller. That’s a story that sells.

 

The difference? Everything.

 

“In a world choking on corporate drivel and drowning in mediocre marketing, most ‘storytellers’ deserve a muzzle, not a microphone.”

 

Let’s cut the crap, shall we? You’ve suffered through enough sanitized corporate storytelling to recognize the stench of insincerity from across the internet. Time to dissect the narrative corpse and see what’s actually inside.

 

Stories that YELL: The Attention Terrorists

 

We begin with the loudest offenders—those narrative terrorists holding your attention hostage with their verbal explosives.

 

These are the storytelling equivalents of that drunk uncle at weddings who thinks the solution to not being interesting is simply being louder. They’re the digital equivalent of someone honking in traffic when the light’s still red—impatient, entitled, and utterly pointless.

 

Take Indian TV news debates—the WWE of journalism where facts tap out to decibels. Most anchors don’t host discussions; they conduct verbal carpet-bombing campaigns where truth is the first casualty. “THE NATION WANTS TO KNOW!” does it? Or do you just need to refill your prescription?

 

Internationally, remember when Pepsi tried to solve police brutality and racial tensions with Kendall Jenner and a can of soda? That story screamed so tone-deaf that the entire internet developed tinnitus.

 

Or consider the entire Patanjali empire built on the shoulders of screaming pseudo-science. “ALLOPATHY WILL KILL YOU! BUY OUR CORONIL!” They yelled during a pandemic when people were literally gasping for breath. Classy.

 

Yelling stories are the marketing equivalent of desperation perfume—the stronger the scent, the more we suspect you’re hiding something rotten underneath.

 

On a lighter note, if you’re gonna yell, make sure it’s either hilarious, horrifying, or both. Otherwise, you’re just another uncle at a wedding drunk on cheap whiskey.

 

Stories that TELL: The Truth Smugglers

 

Next in the line up are stories that TELL—narrative ninjas that infiltrate your consciousness without setting off mental alarm systems.

 

Unlike their screaming cousins, these stories don’t beg for attention; they earn it by actually having something worth saying. Revolutionary concept, I know.

 

When Tanishq released their “Remarriage” advertisement showing a Muslim family celebrating a Hindu bride’s second marriage ceremony, they told India a story about interfaith harmony without preaching. Of course, the trolls went ballistic (because how dare anyone suggest religions can coexist peacefully in this country?), but the quiet authenticity of that narrative lingered long after the online outrage machine found its next target.

 

Globally, look at how Ukrainian President Zelenskyy responded when offered evacuation at the beginning of Russia’s invasion: “I need ammunition, not a ride.” Six words. No PowerPoint. No brand consultant. Just raw, undiluted narrative potency that told us everything about leadership without using the word once.

 

Or take Patagonia‘s founder giving away the company to fight climate change. No glossy sustainability report, no green-washed mission statement—just a radical action that tells the story of their environmental commitment better than a million corporate pledges.

 

Telling stories respect their audience enough not to beat them over the head with meaning. They understand that if you need to explain your point, you’ve already failed at making it.

 

-” Subscribe to my newsletter for life-changing secrets!”—every crypto bro ever. Turns out, the only life-changing part was your bank balance evaporating.

– Sadhguru’s “Inner Engineering”—half spiritual wisdom, half “Wait, did he just sell me a $500 course to breathe?”Masterful.

Takeaway: The best stories don’t just tell—they rewire. Whether it’s enlightenment or an MLM scheme depends on how good the storyteller is.

 

Stories that SWELL: The Mind Infiltrators

 

Then there are stories that SWELL—those psychological sleeper cells that activate long after exposure, expanding in your mind like narrative time bombs.

 

These are stories that hijack your mental real estate, refusing eviction notices even years later.

 

Remember that Cadbury ad where the girl runs onto a cricket field to celebrate her boyfriend’s century? Two decades later, we’re still humming “Kuch Khaas Hai” whenever we see a cricket match and chocolate. That’s not marketing; that’s mental colonization.

 

When Mumbai’s dabbawallas were featured in a Harvard Business School case study, it wasn’t just lunch delivery being analyzed—it was a swelling story about Indian efficiency and ingenuity penetrating global business consciousness, elegantly flipping the bird to colonial stereotypes about Indian systems.

 

Or consider the Thai life insurance commercials—those emotional assassins disguised as advertisements. They start with simple human moments that suddenly balloon into existential meditations that leave you sobbing in the fetal position, questioning your life choices, and calling your parents at 2 AM. And somehow, you’re grateful for the emotional mugging.

 

Swelling stories are mental parasites with benefits—they burrow deep and reshape you from the inside, making you think the transformation was your idea all along.

 

Stories that SELL: The Wallet Whisperers

 

Finally, we arrive at stories that SELL—those slick conversational pickpockets that empty your wallet while you’re nodding in agreement.

 

The best selling stories perform the ultimate illusion: making you feel like purchasing was your brilliant decision rather than their carefully engineered outcome.

 

Amul‘s  topical cartoons have been social commentary wrapped in butter puns for over 50 years. While politicians and celebrities come and go, the Amul girl remains—serving delicious roasts alongside dairy products. They’ve sold butter by selling wry observation, proving Indians will digest anything if it’s seasoned with the right amount of cheeky humor.

 

Or look at how Old Spice resurrected itself from grandpa’s bathroom cabinet to millennial must-have. “The Man Your Man Could Smell Like” didn’t sell deodorant—it sold self-aware absurdity and permitted men to care about how they smell without threatening their fragile masculinity.

 

When CRED launched with absurdist ads featuring cricket legends like Rahul Dravid having road rage meltdowns, they weren’t selling a credit card payment app—they were selling membership in an inside joke. “Not everyone gets it” was less about financial literacy and more about creating a velvet rope around their brand narrative.

 

Great selling stories understand that modern consumers have developed antibodies against traditional marketing. So instead of attacking defenses head-on, they slip in disguised as entertainment, education, or empowerment.

 

Fevicol doesn’t sell glue—it sells indestructibility. From wedding benches stuck together for generations to an unbreakable bond between a rickshaw and its passengers, their ads are marketing gold. Takeaway: The best stories don’t just make you listen; they make you act.

 

How about some brutal truth?

 

Here’s the unvarnished reality: Most brands are narrative butchers, hacking away at potentially good stories until they’re unrecognizable mush. They yell when they should tell, tell when they should swell, attempt to swell when they should just sell.

 

The result? A marketplace of narrative mediocrity where brands throw spaghetti at the wall and call the sticky mess “storytelling strategy.” Without much deciphering needed, we can label it ” Spray and Pray “!

 

Consider the endless parade of purpose-washing campaigns from corporations suddenly discovering “values” fifty years into their existence. Yes, I’m sure that multinational oil company really does care deeply about female empowerment. Almost as much as they care about avoiding environmental regulations.

 

The Bullsh*t Divide —there are two kinds of people in this world:

 

-Those who think “data speaks for itself“(Spoiler: It doesn’t. Data mumbles in a corner like a socially awkward intern.)

-Those who wrap facts in stories so damn spicy, they make your LinkedIn influencer look like a PowerPoint snoozefest.

Stories aren’t just nice-to-have—they’re the difference between “Who the hell are you?“and “Shut up and take my money!” But not all stories hit the same. Some scream like a banshee on Red Bull, some finesse like a Tinder smooth-talker, some inflate like a politician’s promises, and some? Some slide into your wallet like a seasoned pickpocket.

 

Stories don’t just talk. They hypnotize, manipulate, and occasionally, empty wallets. If your story doesn’t make people either laugh, cry, or question their life choices—try again. Your data is boring. Your story shouldn’t be. Elizabeth Holmes swelled. Elon Musk yelled. De Beers sold. Be like De Beers.

 

So, What’s Your Story?

 

If your brand is just yelling, dial it down. If it’s only telling, add some intrigue. If it’s swelling, perfect. And if it’s selling, well, congrats—you’ve cracked the code.

Great storytelling isn’t about volume; it’s about value. Now, go forth and tell a story worth buying.

 

They stood in line for 36 hours to buy the first iPhone. They’ve eaten lab-grown meat while the cells were practically still dividing. Their houses are so smart they’re probably plotting world domination. While you were carefully reading reviews and waiting for prices to drop, they already unboxed, tested, broke, defended, and sometimes regretted spending $3,500 on goggles that make them look like they’re cosplaying as futuristic ski instructors. Early adopters – tech’s most passionate gamblers – don’t just purchase products; they buy lottery tickets to the future with their name boldly scribbled on them. They’re either visionaries or suckers, depending entirely on whether their bet pays off. And frankly, society needs them more than they need that 14th smart speaker.

 

The Psychological Strip-Tease of “I’ll Go First”– What makes someone drop a month’s rent on the first generation of unproven technology? The same brain wiring that made some ancient human think, “I’ll be the first to milk that large angry animal” while their more sensible friends watched from a safe distance. Early adopters mainline novelty like it’s pharmaceutical-grade dopamine – because neurologically speaking, it basically is. Studies show the brain’s reward center lights up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve when experiencing something new. Combine that with the social currency of being the tribal tech shaman (“Let me show you how this works”) and you’ve created the perfect neurological storm.

 

Dr. Everett Rogers, who literally wrote the seminal book on innovation diffusion, classified early adopters as the second-fastest group to embrace new technologies after “innovators” (the truly unhinged ones who beta test software that’s basically held together with digital duct tape). Early adopters represent about 13.5% of the population – enough to be significant but rare enough to feel special.

 

What can we learn here? Your appetite for technological risk correlates directly with your brain’s hunger for novelty and status. If you’re always first in line, you’re not just buying products – you’re feeding a neurological need.

 

The Glory and Spectacular Face-Plants of Being First– For every early Bitcoin investor now shopping for private islands, there’s a Segway early adopter who spent $5,000 to become a mall cop punchline. The early adoption graveyard is filled with expensive epitaphs of technological hubris.Remember Google Glass? Early adopters paid $1,500 for the privilege of being called “Glassholes” and getting kicked out of bars over privacy concerns. Those revolutionary face computers now gather dust in drawers – expensive reminders that not all innovations are ready for prime time, and sometimes society rejects the future you thought you were clever enough to see coming. Or consider the brave souls who went all-in on HD-DVD instead of Blu-ray. That $800 player and library of discs became obsolete faster than milk left in the Sahara. Their technological foresight aged about as well as those “Myspace Forever” tattoos. NFT early adopters experienced perhaps the most whiplash-inducing rise and fall in recent memory. One minute they were smugly explaining why a $250,000 JPEG of a bored ape was the future of art ownership; the next, they were quietly changing their profile pictures back to human faces while their digital investments cratered to prices that wouldn’t cover a decent dinner.

 

The prognosis here being: Being first means accepting that sometimes you’re blazing trails and sometimes you’re just setting your money on fire. The difference often only becomes clear in retrospect.

 

Society’s Mandatory Lab Rats – The Brutal Economics– Let’s get brutally honest: early adopters pay a “stupidity tax” that subsidizes innovation for the rest of us. They’re the economic shock absorbers of capitalism’s bleeding edge. The first LED TVs in India cost upwards of ₹2 lakh and had viewing angles narrower than a Delhi lane. They were purchased by early adopters who essentially funded the R&D that lets you buy superior technology today for the price of a weekend in Goa. When was the last time you thanked them for their service? The first smartphone users in India paid ₹35,000+ for devices with battery life shorter than a politician’s promise. Remember when owning a BlackBerry was a status symbol? Those early adopters essentially paid premium prices to be RIM’s external QA department, identifying flaws that would be fixed in later generations (though not quickly enough to save the company). This isn’t just about gadgets. Early adopters of food delivery apps like Swiggy and Zomato endured cold food, bizarre delivery times, and menu items that bore little resemblance to what arrived. They paid full price for 60-minute deliveries that now take 20 minutes, effectively subsidizing the logistics optimization for today’s users. The first wave of digital payment users through Paytm and PhonePe dealt with app crashes, failed transactions, and skeptical shopkeepers so you could eventually seamlessly pay your sabziwala with a quick scan.

 

The takeaway here is: The early adoption tax is real and quantifiable. Calculate your tolerance by asking: “How much am I willing to overpay for the privilege of experiencing this first, knowing it will be cheaper and better before my EMI payments end?”

 

The Corporate Love-Hate-Exploit Relationship– Companies fetishize early adopters in their marketing while privately viewing them as beautiful, narcissistic cash cows to be milked for feedback and evangelical fervor.Early adopters of brands like OnePlus expected to be treated like the technological aristocracy they believed themselves to be. They demanded direct access to founders through those infamous invite systems, VIP support, and the right to complain publicly when their exalted status wasn’t properly acknowledged. When OnePlus eventually opened sales to everyone, these early adopters acted like Carl Pei had personally betrayed their secret club. This entitlement isn’t entirely unwarranted. Early adopters are unpaid members of product development and marketing teams. The first users of Indian startups like BigBasket identified catastrophic bugs, created tutorials, convinced friends to join platforms, and defended brand choices with religious zeal. The first CRED users weren’t just customers; they were unpaid evangelists explaining “Paying credit card bills can earn rewards!” to confused relatives. Indian companies have perfected this exploitation through “exclusive” beta access (remember when Clubhouse was invite-only?), founder AMAs on Reddit, and meaningless “pioneer” status designations that cost nothing but feed the early adopter’s desperate need to feel special. The “founding member” badges on Indian platforms like CoinSwitch Kuber gave early cryptocurrency adopters an illusion of insider status while they performed free marketing.

 

What can we takeaway from the above? If you’re an early adopter, calculate the true cost of your purchase by adding the hours you’ll spend troubleshooting, explaining, defending, and evangelizing. Companies like Urban Company and Dunzo counted on their early users providing free feedback and promotion – make sure you’re being compensated with enough status or satisfaction to make it worthwhile.

Shaping the Future- Early adopters don’t just consume technology; they co-create it. Their feedback is gold dust for companies fine-tuning the next big thing. They’re not just customers—they’re collaborators. When Apple removed the headphone jack, early adopters moaned, groaned, and then bought Bluetooth earbuds, forcing the world to follow suit. Resistance was futile.

 

The Thrill (and Chill) of Being First– Being an early adopter is like dating a mysterious stranger. Exciting? Hell yes. Risky? Oh, absolutely. You might be the first to experience the magic… or the meltdown. From the first humans who bit into unknown berries (some became foodies, others… well, didn’t), to those who pre-ordered Tesla’s Cybertruck before realizing it might have the aerodynamics of a refrigerator, early adopters have always been society’s guinea pigs. The world loves its pioneers. They make us look ahead. They test-drive the future. And when they win, they look like visionaries. When they lose? Well, they make excellent cautionary tales.

 

The Ugly: When Early Adoption Goes Horribly Wrong:-

 

–Investors Who Bet on the Wrong Horse: SoftBank’s WeWork fiasco. Blackberry refusing to ditch its keyboard. Kodak laughing at digital cameras. OYO’s meteoric rise followed by a crash diet.

 

– Tech That Flopped Big Time: Meta’s VR headset dreams, Google’s graveyard of failed products, and India’s short-lived Clubhouse obsession—some things are ahead of their time… or just bad ideas.

 

–Social Experiments Gone Wrong: Ever tried paying at a Bangalore café with Dogecoin? If you did, congrats, you were an early adopter. Also, you probably walked out hungry.

 

The Shakeup Call-So where does this leave us? Should we all become more willing early adopters, or should we double down on letting others test the waters first? The truth lies somewhere in between. Society needs its early adopters – those willing to take risks, provide feedback, and fund the early, expensive stages of innovation. Without them, progress would slow to a crawl, and many world-changing technologies might never reach the mainstream.

 

But we also need the skeptics and late adopters who ask hard questions about necessity, privacy, sustainability, and unintended consequences. The push and pull between these groups creates the tension that leads to better, more refined technologies and services.

 

Perhaps the wisest approach is selective early adoption. Be an early adopter in areas where you have genuine passion and expertise, where you can contribute meaningfully to development through feedback. Be a late adopter in areas where the stakes are high, the benefits unclear, or where waiting costs you little but saves you much.

 

The next time you mock someone for standing in line for the latest gadget or roll your eyes at a friend’s enthusiasm for some new platform, remember: their willingness to go first, make mistakes, and yes, sometimes waste money, is what pushes humanity forward. They’re the people who make the future less scary for the rest of us.

 

And if you’re an early adopter yourself? Wear those occasional technological mishaps as badges of honor. Without your curiosity and courage, we’d still be arguing about whether this “internet” thing is just a passing fad.

 

Thank you. Better early than never!

 

April Fools’ Day: The One Day You Can Gaslight the Entire Planet & Get Away With It.

 

Listen up. April 1st isn’t just a day—it’s a lifestyle. A 24-hour free pass to weaponize absurdity, humiliate your friends, and blame it all on “tradition.” Think of it as societal permission to be a glorified menace. And honestly? We deserve it. After 364 days of pretending to adult, we’ve earned this chaos.

 

But before you go full Loki( no low key affair this) on your unsuspecting coworkers (looking at you, Karen in HR), let’s dig into the gloriously dumb roots of this global clown fiesta.

 

Because The Truth is Overrated- Every year, on April 1st, the world decides to embrace its inner con artist, and somehow, we all play along. Banks don’t suddenly start waiving fees, your boss doesn’t actually want to double your salary, and no, Mark Zuckerberg hasn’t finally decided to pay us all for the personal data he’s been mining since 2004. But for one glorious day, reality takes a back seat, and the world becomes a masterclass in deception.

 

Some folklore we can look at to understand the bizarre origins to celebrate calculated deception. 

 

Nobody knows exactly how April Fools’ began, which is ironically the perfect origin story for a holiday dedicated to confusion. Some historians trace it back to 16th century France when the calendar shifted from celebrating New Year’s at the end of March to January 1st. Those poor souls who missed the memo and continued partying in spring became the original “April Fools.”

 

Others claim it stems from Mother Nature‘s own practical joke – spring weather that flip-flops more dramatically than politicians during election season. One minute you’re sunbathing, the next you’re building an emergency ark.

 

Other historians blame it on the Romans and their festival of Hilaria(yes, that’s literally where we get “hilarious“), a day of masquerades and mockery. Leave it to the Romans to formalize being assholes once a year – the same civilization that considered throwing people to lions prime entertainment.

 

The British claim it stems from Geoffrey Chaucer‘s “Canterbury Tales” reference to “32nd March” (which doesn’t exist). Classic British humor –so dry it makes the Sahara look like a water park.

 

My personal theory? April Fools’ is Mother Nature’s way of trolling us with spring weather that changes faster than a teenager’s Instagram profile picture. “Here’s sunshine! Psych! Have some hail, suckers!”

 

Anyway, we’ve embraced this tradition with disturbing enthusiasm. What does it say about humanity that we’ve collectively agreed on a day to traumatize our loved ones? Freud would have a field day with this!

 

Before we get onward, lets look at some Hall of Fame Pranks( read as How To Traumatise With Style)-

 

-In 1957, the BBC – that bastion of stiff-upper-lip journalism – aired footage of Swiss farmers harvesting spaghetti from trees. Hundreds of viewers called asking how to grow their own pasta trees. This wasn’t just pre-internet gullibility; this was a masterclass in how even posh British accents can make absolute bollocks sound credible.

 

–Burger King‘s 1998 “Left-Handed Whopper” ad claimed they’d redesigned their signature burger for southpaws with ingredients rotated 180 degrees. Thousands of customers specifically requested it, proving that humanity’s stupidity is the only truly renewable resource we can depend on.

 

–Sports Illustrated‘s 1985 article about Sidd Finch, a fictional pitcher who could throw 168 mph (and learned his skill in a Tibetan monastery, naturally) had MLB teams actually worried. The first letters of the article’s subheading spelled “H-A-P-P-Y A-P-R-I-L F-O-O-L-S,” but apparently baseball executives don’t read that carefully. Shocking.

 

–Sweden – land of IKEA, ABBA, and apparently world-class trolling – pulled the ultimate prank in 1962 when their sole TV channel announced viewers could convert black-and-white broadcasts to color by stretching nylon stockings across their screens. Thousands of ordinarily sensible Swedes sat there like idiots staring at pantyhose-covered TVs. If you think fake news is a modern problem, think again.

 

Today’s April Fools’ pranks have evolved from whoopee cushions to elaborate psychological warfare. Major corporations now allocate actual marketing budgets to create fake products so convincing they trigger existential crises.

 

Remember Google’s “Google Nose” that supposedly let you search by smell? Or Toshiba’s “DiGiT” – a finger stylus for touchscreens (literally just your unwashed finger with a fancy name)? How about Rent-A-Chicken delivery service? The terrifying part is how many people responded with, “Finally! This is what I’ve been waiting for!”

 

Social media has transformed April 1st into the Olympics of anxiety. Is your cousin actually pregnant or just desperate for engagement metrics? Is your friend really moving to Bali to become a spiritual guru, or is it the same person who gets lost driving to Target? That engagement announcement? Check the date before sending that $200 blender.

 

And let’s talk office pranks – that special category of tomfoolery where career suicide meets fleeting glory. Nicholas from accounting thought it was hilarious to plastic-wrap the toilet seat until the CEO had an “incident.” The desk covered in Post-its was cute until the victim had an allergic reaction to the adhesive. And whoever keeps putting googly eyes on everything in the break room – we know it’s you, Prabhat from marketing, and yes, putting them on the HR director’s family photos crossed a line.

 

The Psychology of the Sociopaths We Call Friends-What drives someone to spend three hours filling their roommate’s deodorant with cream cheese? The same brain chemistry that, in medieval times, would have made them the court jester – essential for morale but kept at a safe distance from sharp objects.

 

There’s a fascinating psychological spectrum: at one end, the good-natured trickster whose pranks prompt genuine laughter; at the other, that friend who thinks changing your autocorrect to replace “yes” with “I worship Satan” is peak comedy. This friend is also suspiciously single.

 

Studies show (I made this up, but it feels right) that the best pranksters understand the golden rule: temporary confusion, not lasting therapy. A great April Fools’ joke should leave the victim momentarily questioning reality, then laughing – not updating their will to exclude you.

 

In this era where “fake news” is screamed louder than “fire” in a crowded theater, there’s something refreshingly honest about April Fools’ Day. It’s the one day when deception comes with a disclaimer and an expiration date. We’re collectively saying: “For 24 hours, critical thinking is optional!” It’s like The Purge, but for truth. A day when otherwise intelligent humans can be convinced that Australia is transitioning to driving on the right side of the road “gradually over the next two weeks” (an actual successful prank that had people wondering how exactly that would work).

 

The best pranks? They hold up a mirror to society’s idiocy. Like when The Guardian “announced” they were switching to a print-only edition for luddites. Or when Elon Musk tweeted Tesla was bankrupt. (Wait, that last one might’ve just been poor life choices.) Here’s the twist: The best pranks reveal truths. Like Burger King’s “Left-Handed Whopper” (which was a real 1998 stunt) exposed how suggestible we are. Or when Netflix launched “Netflix Live“—a fake livestream of a guy knitting—reminding us that yes, we’ll watch anything to avoid small talk.

 

April Fools’ Day is society’s pressure valve—a 24-hour pass to laugh at others without (much) guilt. So this April 1st, whether you’re swapping sugar for salt or convincing your roommate that WiFi is now pay-per-sneeze, remember: The line between genius and jerk is thin. Cross it with flair.
And if you get pranked? Congrats—you’re part of a 500-year-old tradition of glorious gullibility.

 

April Fools’ reminds us that in a world where we take ourselves far too seriously, sometimes the most sophisticated, tech-savvy humans can still be convinced that NASA discovered a planet made entirely of marijuana. And maybe that shared gullibility is what truly connects us all – more than religion, politics, or our collective hatred of reply-all emails.

 

Caveat Emptor: Fooling has become a business model, and so now, every day is April Fool’s day. So, Act wisely.

 

Well, thats my fool and final on this!

 

I am still to come to terms with the fact that why does a batsman who is out for a first ball duck (that too clean bowled) has to look at the scorecard 18 times before he traverses the 70 0dd metres( oops make it 50 in these days of ‘diet cricket grounds‘) back to the pavilion. Is he hoping for some miraculous divine intervention where the scorecard will reflect 42 against his name and retired hurt as a suffix?

 

Or the on field umpire’s geometry skills being put to the test when signaling to the third umpire for a decision. Unsure whether the TV set is a rectangle or a square, he leaves it halfway through, leaving it for someone else to figure out the last mile.

 

And then there is this Mr Noddy( sorry Enid Blyton)- the batsman who keeps nodding his head( putting our Malayalee friend from Kottayam to shame) on getting out literally virtue signaling and telling ” how can this happen to me- I have been growing in leaps and bounds averaging 15.76, 16.24 and 17.12 respectively in the last three English County Championships with an average strike rate of 67.6.

 

And while we all love the game for its glorious uncertainties, let’s call cricket what it really is – legalized public insanity with statistics.

 

Cricket is a funny game. No, seriously. It’s a cocktail of Shakespearean drama, WWE-style theatrics, Bollywood-level melodrama, and a splash of reality TV absurdity. It’s got everything—grown men appealing like desperate salesmen, umpires who sometimes seem to be auditioning for mime school, and commentators who can make even a dot ball sound like an intergalactic event( apart from telling us incessantly that during Power Play only two fielders are allowed outside the 30 yard circle- any more of such verbal diarrhea and he should be taken to task for insider trading).

 

It’s the only sport where players religiously polish their balls in full view of families while commentators discuss the technique with scholarly reverence. “Excellent shine on that one, Geoffrey!” Yes, we’ve normalized grown men vigorously rubbing their crotches on live television.

 

Cricket remains the beautiful lunatic of sports – a game where rain stops play but standing in 47-degree Delhi heat is perfectly acceptable. Where the English invented it but haven’t won a proper World Cup until they needed a boundary countback rule so byzantine it was immediately abolished. Where Shane Warne could be simultaneously a tactical genius and someone who thought baked beans were an exotic food. It’s a game where Inzamam-ul-Haq  got out “hit wicket” trying to jump away from a wasp. Where Andrew Symonds tackled a naked streaker like he was playing NFL. Where Suraj Randiv deliberately bowled a no-ball to prevent Virender Sehwag reaching a century – the pettiness here is Olympic-level!

 

Cricket is the only game where a duck doesn’t quack, a maiden is not a damsel in distress, and a nightwatchman isn’t guarding a castle but rather your team’s fragile ego.

 

So the next time you watch 22 millionaires spending days chasing a leather orb around a field while wearing enough protective equipment to survive a nuclear winter, remember: this isn’t just a sport. It’s humanity’s most elaborate practical joke – and we’re all gloriously, ridiculously complicit.

 

All formats of the game come with their consistent set of absurdity. Here goes:

 

Test Cricket: Where Time Goes to Die (And So Does Your Social Life)

– A format so slow, even the pigeons on the field start judging the batters. “Just hit it, mate, my grandkids will be here by the time you score.” Try telling that to Andrew Hilditch!

– Bowlers sending down 145 km/h thunderbolts only for the batter to leave it like it’s a bad Tinder message. “Nah, not today, Satan.”

– The “spirit of cricket“debate, which is just code for “I’m mad but pretending to be classy about it.” (Looking at you, “Mankad” stans.)

– Fielders at silly point who either look like fearless warriors or hostages. No in-between.

-Test cricket – that magnificent five-day exercise in delayed gratification – is basically Stockholm Syndrome disguised as sport. We watch fielders standing motionless for so long they become part of the landscape. In what other professional sport could an athlete eat a sandwich, take a nap, finish a novel, and still be considered “actively participating”?

 

The real comedy is how we describe Test cricket’s tedium as “chess-like strategy” when it’s really just 22 men in white pajamas engaged in elaborate performance art. England once scored 33 runs in an entire session. That’s not sport – that’s horticultural observation with occasional applause!

 

One-Day Internationals: The ‘Diet Coke’ of Cricket

 

-One-day cricket arrived like the unwanted middle child – too flashy for traditionalists, too boring for the YouTube generation. Remember when 250 was a good score? Now bowlers look like they’ve witnessed their own funeral when conceding less than 300. It’s the cricket equivalent of cargo shorts – nobody loves it, but it’s stubbornly refusing to go away.

– The middle overs, where the only excitement is the cameraman zooming in on a spectator picking their nose.

– Batters who turn into tortoises after power plays. “Oh, we’re at 100 in 15 overs? Time to gently caress the ball to midwicket for the next 20.”

– Bowlers getting absolutely obliterated for six sixes in an over, then pretending it was part of the plan. “Yeah, I was just lulling them into a false sense of security.”

 

T20(Because Test cricket was too busy ironing its whites): Cricket on Crack

– T20 crashed the party – cricket’s cocaine-fueled fever dream where everything is LOUDER, FASTER, and ACCOMPANIED BY FLAMES! Suddenly batsmen swing like they’re trying to kill mosquitoes with sledgehammers. Chris Gayle became a deity for essentially playing baseball with a plank. Bowlers now need therapists on standby as their carefully crafted deliveries disappear into orbit, while captains make field placements that resemble elaborate modern art installations.

– Batters swinging like they’re in a nightclub at 3 AM and the ball is their ex’s text.

– Bowlers getting smacked for 30 in an over and still giving the “I’m the main character”stare.

– Fielders attempting “superman dives” and ending up as meme material. “Congratulations, you saved one run… at the cost of your dignity.”

– Strategic timeouts where the coach says “Just hit the ball, bro ” like it’s profound wisdom.

 

No game would be complete without its set of on field and off field theatrics:-

 

On-Field Drama:

– Players appealing like they’ve just seen a ghost when the ball clearly missed the bat by a mile. Umpires giving the “I’m not paid enough for this”look in return.

– The “elite honesty” of walking off before the umpire’s decision—rare, but when it happens, the cricketing world acts like they’ve witnessed a unicorn tap-dancing.

– Fielders “accidentally” kicking the ball over the boundary (oops, my foot slipped!) or “celebrating” a wicket before realizing the bowler overstepped by a kilometer.

 

Off-Field Circus:

– Crowds losing their minds over a six like it’s the second coming, while the guy in the stands with a giant foam finger somehow becomes the TV star.  Not to mention the ‘highly knowledgable audience‘ who goes berserk clapping and screaming only to realise that the batsman who has got out is from the team she has supposedly come to support.

– Social media experts who’ve never held a bat diagnosing a player’s technique based on a 10-second clip. “His backlift is 2.7 degrees off, he’s finished!” Social media has turned every match into digital gladiatorial combat. Remember when Ravi Shastri’s “TRACER BULLET” comment became a meme faster than Usain Bolt? Or when Jimmy Neesham‘s Twitter account became more entertaining than actual New Zealand matches?

– Broadcasters milking drama with ultra-HD slow-mos of a bowler’s nostril flare like it’s a National Geographic documentary. Yes, the same guys who have turned cricket into a soap opera with Ultra-slow-mo close-ups of sweat dripping off a bowler’s brow like it’s The Godfather.  Television has transformed cricket into soft-core sports pornography. Ultra-HD slow-motion captures every bead of sweat, nostril flare, and wayward butt-scratch in magnificent detail. Stump mics have revealed that international cricketers have the vocabulary range of drunken sailors. Ball-tracking technology proves what fans have known forever – umpires need glasses.

 

-The Commentary gems: “He’s hit that into the next postcode!”(Wow, geography lesson!) and last but not the least the Mandatory cut to the “worried girlfriend in the stands”cam after a player gets out. “Yes, Karen, he failed. Now let’s watch you fail to pretend you care.”

 

– The IPL auction – cricket’s bizarre human cattle market where millionaires bid for humans while commentators discuss their “utility” like they’re buying kitchen appliances. “He’s a useful lower-order batsman with adequate fielding skills, starting bid 2 crore rupees!” Somewhere, Karl Marx is spinning in his grave.

 

-Remember when Shahid Afridi retired approximately 17 times, each comeback more dramatic than the last? Or when David Warner made TikTok videos dancing to Bollywood songs during COVID lockdown? Cricket creates more bizarre character arcs than Game of Thrones.

 

-One of the biggest Characters of Our Tragicomedy are without doubt the Umpires– those white or black-coated dictators –who have evolved from respected arbiters to reluctant technology operators. Poor Billy Bowden, with his crooked finger signals that made him look like he was simultaneously having a seizure and directing traffic. Then there’s the DRS – cricket’s way of saying “We have technology, but we’d still prefer arguments.” DRS (Decision Review System) –when the moment a player goes for a review, it’s like watching a contestant on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire—hands on hips, intense stare at the screen, hoping for the ‘UltraEdge’ to reveal some cosmic conspiracy in their favor. Remember when Steve Bucknor would take approximately 17 years to raise his finger while batsmen aged visibly? Or Kumar Dharmasena’s iconic 2019 World Cup final overthrow decision that had New Zealanders contemplating formal war with the ICC?

 

Cricket is the greatest unintentional comedy show on earth. It’s got everything—heroes, villains, tragic collapses, and at least one guy who somehow trips over his own feet on live TV. Whether it’s Test cricket’s “I’m not dead, I’m resting”energy or T20’s “hold my protein shake”chaos, the game never fails to remind us that life is meaningless and we’re all just here to overreact.

 

Cricket is a game where a batsman can get out because his shoelace was untied, a bowler can take a wicket with a ball that bounced twice, and a fielder can drop the easiest catch but take a blind screamer the very next ball.

 

It’s a sport where a third umpire takes 67 angles and five minutes to decide something we all saw in real-time. A game where fans fight over GOAT debates like they’re defending their family’s honor. And, most importantly, a game where rain can play a bigger role than the players.

 

Funny game, cricket. And that’s why we love it. Calling it stumps now!