Santhosh's ramblings

With all the events happening around us, I was reminded of something that happened to us a couple of years ago.  Disclaimer - "This story is not fictional. If any character or event accidentally resembles something or someone you know, please assume it’s because the universe has a sense of humour, not because I do. Any likeness to real people - living, legendary, or loudly opinionated - is purely coincidental and definitely intentional."   It was while we were in Delhi that the mystery began. Every night, strange sounds would come from the kitchen. Wires were being chewed up, little clues were being left behind, and there was clear evidence of what appeared to be a rather large rat moving about with far too much confidence. We lived on the third floor, so the first question was obvious: how had such a large rat reached us? Had it climbed the stairs? Or were Delhi rats, as part of their urban development, now trained in climbing up the walls?   One night, around midnight, ...

For years, I’ve proudly carried a set of principles to prevent compassion fatigue. They sounded noble, looked impressive for me, and made me feel like a seasoned elder in healthcare.   First, I practiced slow noticing. In reality, this  often meant noticing things only after they were pointed out by someone else. My version of slow noticing was sometimes so slow that the moment had already passed, the person had already left, and the opportunity for compassion had died of geriatric problems. Second, I believed in sensible boundaries. This sounded very mature until I realised my boundaries were mostly designed to protect my schedule, my efficiency, and my ability to walk briskly through corridors without being interrupted by humans. Third, I practised micro‑restoration. This was the one principle I genuinely excelled at - but mostly because it involved coffee, trees, and occasionally pretending I didn’t hear my phone ringing. I had convinced myself that these principles made me...

I bought a new car not long ago. By “not long ago,” I mean sixteen months, which in car years should still count as youthful. Unfortunately, my car has already acquired the expression of a middle-aged man who has seen too much traffic, too many potholes, and too much enthusiasm from its owner. The engine is fine, the wheels are still attached, and the horn retains its theological confidence. But the body has needed repeated visits to what I call “car hospitals” for denting and painting. If there were a loyalty card for such shops, I would probably qualify for a free bumper massage. My wife, who represents the voice of wisdom, economy, and inconvenient truth, once asked, “Why do you keep spending money on denting and painting? The car still drives.” This was difficult to answer because she was entirely right. The car could move, turn, stop, and even look respectable from a generous distance. But I could not bear the sight of its small scars. A scratch on the car somehow felt like a scra...

Recently, I have noticed young men wearing wide-bottom trousers that look suspiciously like the bell-bottoms of our youth. Back then, the standard package was simple: bell-bottoms, a step-cut hairstyle, and hair long enough to cover the ears - but not long enough to start a family argument. Perhaps fashion is simply circling back. In the 1970s, hippie and counterculture influences shaped menswear through flared jeans, tie-dye, fringe, beads, and long hair. Bell-bottoms - also known as “angel flights” or “loon pants” - quickly became popular, proving once again that culture has always had a firm grip on our wardrobes.   What amazes me is how these trends spread across the world without social media, the World Wide Web, or even the internet. Even I, from a conservative family, wore bell-bottoms - though, I must clarify, not the dangerously wide variety. I once thought of adding an old photograph, but the only ones I have include friends, and I have not asked their permission. Besides...

I recently wrote about birds -  https://santhoshsramblings.blogspot.com/2025/10/all-about-birds.html This blog is also about birds. The morning hour of birdwatching is very therapeutic. It is not only therapeutic, but also educational - and a time to order the mind, to feel rested and realigned. This was the list of birds that visited our neighbourhood this morning. But today I also learnt something about my own life by watching two groups of birds.    The first were the various kinds of honey suckers. In one sense, I feel they are very focussed on food but distracted in the process - jumping from flower to flower, flitting around in a hurry, as if there is no tomorrow. They are always in a rush and usually come alone or in pairs.   This hurry is something I identify with - mentally, at least. I sit on the front porch to do some reflective reading and thinking, but my mind is like these honey suckers: all over the place, flitting from one thought to another. Unfocuss...