By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam My friend Ganesh posted an AI-generated presentation about fast fashion killing the planet yesterday on Instagram. Ten slides of curated statistics and moral outrage. I browsed through it at lunch while he sat across from me wearing an expensive hoodie bought last month to replace the one he purchased three months…

By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam There is a particular moment that every South Indian experiences within the first week of arriving in Delhi. It is the moment you confidently order something in Hindi or when the autorickshaw driver stares at you with the kind of pity usually reserved for the terminally confused and then responds in…

When life hands you lemons, they complain about the pulp By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam We all know one. The person who can spot a dark cloud in the middle of a fireworks show. The one who watches a puppy video and wonders why the dog isn’t on a leash. He is ‘The eternal critic.’ That…

By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam At 60 plus, I do not feel old. I walk every morning. I crack the same jokes I have always cracked. I even know what a meme is, within limits. But my phone, that sleek and quietly superior rectangle I bought last month, appears to have formed a different opinion of…

By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam Petty corruption is one of those experiences that does not arrive with drama. It slips in quietly, usually at a traffic signal or a government counter and leaves behind a familiar mix of irritation, resignation and reluctant participation. It is almost apologetic in its entry, as though saying sorry for the…

By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam By all accounts, I should have been celebrating. A senior government position in Delhi, the sort of achievement that gets your name embossed in gold on invitation cards and mentioned in reverent tones in drawing rooms. Instead, here I am, clinging to my ordinariness like a child gripping a security blanket,…

By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam I first realised how little control I have over my better judgement while standing by the roadside with a plate of churumuri in my hand, watching traffic move past in uneven bursts as dust settled gently on everything except my attention. The vendor mixed puffed rice, onions, chilli and lemon with…

By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam I live among people who carry laptop bags and extend their personal space with confidence. The bag becomes a second spine and the person walks as if this new shape came with a licence. They turn and the bag turns after them, swinging like a thought that arrives late. When contact…

By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam A morning walk begins as a routine. You put on your shoes, step out and hope the world is still quiet. Yet the same walk shifts its tone when you move between Mysuru and Delhi. The body may do the same thing, but the surroundings insist on their own script. In…