Category: Personal

The Stranger Who Changed My Battles


In business and in life, sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places.

Back in 2021, I was caught in a storm. A real estate syndicate blocked me from selling my own house for nearly 18 months. Every attempt failed, and the weight of financial struggle only grew heavier. My pride was bruised, my options shrinking.

And then, this person walked into my life. He had no money, no connections in the city, no reason to fight my battle. Yet, he did.

In just two months, staying in a place where he was a complete outsider, he managed to sell the house. That single act salvaged not only my finances but also my pride. For me, it wasn’t just a transaction—it was liberation.

But the story didn’t end there.

When I built Advaith’s Nest, people laughed at my conviction. “The rent is too high,” they said. “Nobody will pay this much in this neighborhood.” The whispers were everywhere.

But this man believed in me. He didn’t just believe—he executed. He went out, found tenants who trusted the value we demanded, and in doing so, we wrote history for that locality. What everyone thought was “too expensive” became the new normal. The neighborhood had never seen such rentals before, and suddenly, Advaith’s Nest became proof of what was possible.

Looking back, it wasn’t just about the house sale or the tenants. It was about what we proved together—that conviction, backed by the right execution, can rewrite narratives.

Sometimes, it isn’t the crowd that validates your dream. It’s that one person who stands by you, executes when everyone doubts, and changes the script for good.

The Cost of Long Hours: A Lesson for Entrepreneurs


When I started out as an entrepreneur, I wore long hours as a badge of honor.
For me, “long hours” meant 18–21 hour workdays.

I took pride when people said I was available across all time zones. Sales calls at midnight, project delivery in the morning—my calendar never slept, and neither did I. At that time, youth and adrenaline helped my body keep up. No one told me it wasn’t sustainable.

Success came fast, but so did the silent damage. By 2018, sleep was a stranger. It took me 3–4 years of struggle to rebuild the simple habit of night sleep.

For the last three years, I’ve disciplined myself to sleep at nights. But the price I paid is written all over my health—hypertension, cholesterol, muscle stiffness, indigestion, and gut issues.

My advice to young entrepreneurs:
Yes, the path is challenging. Yes, you need to be ahead of the race. But don’t mistake sleeplessness for hustle. Let business happen in the day, let your body rest at night.

Because what’s the point of success if you can’t enjoy it in good health?

Shift in Attachment Patterns


If parenting had a rulebook, I think it would start with one golden line: don’t expect loyalty contracts from kids.

For the first five years, my son was my biggest fan. He backed me blindly — whether I was right, wrong, or just lazy. If I said the sky was green, he’d argue with the whole world to prove it. I secretly enjoyed this “mini-me” support system.

But suddenly, something changed. Slowly, my die-hard supporter began drifting… toward my wife. Now he backs her blindly, just the way he once did for me. At first, I thought it was a passing phase. But no — the boy has switched teams.

Of course, there’s a reason. My wife is the dominant one at home. She sets the rules, decides the flow, and basically runs the show. For a 5-year-old who is figuring out who’s really “in charge,” she looks like the clear captain. And in a child’s mind, siding with the captain is the smartest move.

At first, it stung. I felt like I’d been demoted from “head coach” to “assistant waterboy.” But then I realized — this is just how kids grow. They test attachments, they learn loyalty, they experiment with power. Today he’s Team Mom, tomorrow he might be back on Team Dad, and someday, hopefully, he’ll see us as one team.

Parenting is funny like that. We think we’re raising kids, but half the time, they’re teaching us lessons in patience, ego, and letting go.

So if you’re a parent going through the same — relax. Don’t compete. Build your unique bond. And remember: your kid isn’t rejecting you, he’s just exploring both sides of love.

Because in the end, it’s not about whose side he’s on. It’s about knowing he feels safe on both.

The Kochi That My Family Didn’t Sign Up For


This Kochi trip… let’s just say it didn’t turn out the way I imagined.

Originally, it was meant to be a vacation in Varkala. Bags were packed, moods were set, but just the day before, my friend called and dropped the bomb—“It’s raining heavily, the beach is closed. Better head to Kochi instead.” He even arranged things for us there.

So, on Independence Day morning, we started driving at 9 AM. The route? Poopara, Rajakumari, Adimali, and finally Kochi. It was a 9-hour rain-soaked drive. I personally loved it—rain, mountains, long drive. But my family? Not so much.

The first letdown: the hotel. It was good, but I realized something new—my kids aren’t fans of hotels, they’re fans of resorts. They wanted pools and games, not a business-class room with white sheets.

So, I thought I’d lift the mood with a metro ride to Lulu Mall. Bad idea. My kids turned to me in unison: “Appa, why bring us to a mall? We have malls in Chennai!” Strike two.

Next day, we explored Fort Kochi, Jew Town, Dutch houses, Chinese fishing nets—all the things tourists are “supposed” to do. My son looked at me like I dragged him into a history lesson. When I finally tried to save the day with Fort Kochi Beach, the rain gods came back in full force. We took shelter at the Water Metro station and I thought—“aha, water metro!” But nope, kids didn’t enjoy that either.

By now, my wife had her own verdict: “You stole my long weekend rest for this?” Ouch.

Sunday morning, we packed up, ate the package breakfast, and drove another 9 hours back to Madurai. End of trip.

But here’s the silver lining:
I may have failed at giving them the “perfect holiday,” but I learned something important. My kids and wife don’t need surprises or tourist checklists. All they want is a resort stay—where my wife can rest, and my kids can splash in the pool and play. Simple.

So, while Kochi didn’t become their favorite memory, it gave me clarity. And that’s still a win in my book.

From Chocolate to Windmills: My Road Trip Plan Today


It’s 10 AM in Kochi, the bags are packed, and I’ve just checked out. Today’s plan feels like one of those road-trip montages from a movie: equal parts sweet, scenic, and slightly unpredictable.

The first pitstop on my route is Adimali’s Mc Bean Chocolate Factory. If Willy Wonka had set up shop in the Kerala hills, this would be it. For my kids, it’s less about “bean-to-bar” and more about how many flavors they can taste before we get back in the car. For me, it’s about breaking up the drive with something they’ll remember — because when kids talk about a family trip, they rarely mention churches or monuments; they remember ice cream, chocolates, and funny roadside moments.

From there, the road climbs into the misty highlands toward Ramakkalmedu. If you’ve never heard of it, imagine a windswept ridge lined with giant windmills and views that stretch into Tamil Nadu’s Cumbum Valley. It’s the kind of place where you stop, breathe, and remind yourself why road trips beat airports. My driver-self calls it “a quick view stop,” but I know my family will turn it into a full-blown photo session, with me trying to capture smiles while the wind tries to steal our hats.

And then, as every good journey demands, the day closes with the long ride back to Madurai. My caption for the drive? “Chocolate at the start, wind in the middle, temple city at the finish.” Simple, but that’s today’s storyline.

Traveling with family means weaving together very different chapters in one day. For some, it’ll be the chocolate factory; for others, the wind at Ramakkalmedu. For me, it’s the whole arc — the highway conversations, the unplanned tea stops, and the comfort of knowing that even when the miles are long, we’re together in the same story.

So here’s to today: a little sweet, a little scenic, and a whole lot of road.

A Family Ferry Ride That Outshone the Monuments


Travel blogs often highlight the grand monuments. But sometimes, the real story isn’t in stained-glass windows or centuries-old bricks — it’s in the smallest, most ordinary rides.

Today in Kochi, my wife, daughter, and son taught me this lesson. We had walked the charming lanes of Jew Town, browsed spice-scented shops, and stepped into the Paradesi Synagogue, a 400-year-old Jewish temple with chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a movie set. I thought that was our big “cultural moment.”

But the highlight wasn’t inside the Synagogue’s tiled floors. It was on a Water Metro ferry.

We boarded at Fort Kochi and cruised toward the High Court jetty. For me, it was just convenient transport. For my kids, it was pure cinema. Their eyes widened at every boat that crossed our path, every splash against the glass, every gull that soared beside us. Getting them to smile for photos at the Synagogue took ten tries; on the ferry, one wave hit the side and both burst out laughing, grins so wide the camera almost clicked itself.

And that’s when it struck me: in family travel, the ordinary moments become extraordinary. Not the UNESCO sites or history lessons, but the way your daughter giggles when the ferry honks, or the way your son waves at strangers on another boat.

So if you ever find yourself in Kochi, absolutely walk through Jew Town’s antique shops and admire the Paradesi Synagogue’s history. But don’t underestimate the Water Metro. For the price of a coffee back home, you might just capture your family’s most genuine smiles — the kind you can’t stage in front of any monument.

The Silent Breakup After Success – Why Founders Part Ways When the Game Is Won


We’ve all heard about startups breaking apart in the early struggle because of cash crunch, no product-market fit, fights over equity. But there’s another kind of breakup that’s quieter, more surprising, and far more common than most people think — the founder split after success.

Yes, after the product clicks, after the funding comes in, after the media starts calling… that’s when some founders walk away from each other. Why?

When the Survival Fire Goes Out

In the early days, the goal is simple — survive. Founders are united by the fear of failure, the hunger to prove themselves. But once the company hits stability, that fire changes shape.

Some want to scale like crazy. Others want to slow down and enjoy the win. One might be thinking IPO, while the other dreams of a small, profitable business they can run for decades. That’s when the cracks show — not in the market, but in the partnership.

The “I’m Doing More Than You” Syndrome

During the hustle, everyone is busy doing everything. But after success, roles become clearer. This is where one founder might feel the other is no longer pulling equal weight. The old “we’re in this together” feeling fades, replaced by silent resentment.

Power, Ego, and the Spotlight

Growth demands structure — titles, decision-making boundaries, and sometimes hierarchy. For people who built a company as equals, suddenly having to accept “final calls” from one person can sting. Add media attention, where one face gets more coverage than the other, and the ego wounds deepen.

Money Changes More Than the Bank Balance

Success brings money, and money changes priorities. Some want to chase new ventures. Some want a quieter life. Others become obsessed with the next big valuation. It’s not greed — it’s just that wealth gives you options, and not all options match.

Why I Think This Is More Common Now

Today’s startups reach “success” faster than before and sometimes within 2–3 years. That’s not enough time to test the partnership beyond the survival phase. Many founders never learn to navigate the post-survival stage together. And so, when the pressure to survive is gone, the glue that held them together also disappears.

The Takeaway

A startup isn’t just a business. It’s a relationship one that needs constant realignment, especially after winning the first big milestone. If founders don’t consciously work on their vision alignment, role clarity, and personal priorities before the win, the split often becomes inevitable.

So if you’re building something today, remember:
Winning the game is hard. Staying together after the win might be harder.

Yesterday’s Blessing at Tiruchendur


Yesterday was a divine and fulfilling day for us. We went to Tiruchendur with my family and in-laws. There is a belief that we must visit a temple within 48 days of its Kumbabishegam, and we had planned to make it just in time. To our surprise—or maybe by God’s own arrangement—yesterday turned out to be the very last day of that period.

We sent my in-laws and daughter through the senior citizens’ line for their comfort. My wife, son, and I took the ₹100 darshan ticket, and it took us nearly four hours in the queue to reach the sanctum.

When we finally stood before the Lord, it felt worth every minute of waiting. The deity was adorned with a beautiful Santhanam alangaram (sandalwood paste decoration), and the atmosphere was peaceful and divine. We were allowed to stand close for a decent amount of time, which made the experience even more special.

Walking out, I felt a quiet satisfaction. The timing, the darshan, and the blessings all came together perfectly. It was one of those days that leaves you feeling full—not just in the heart, but in the soul.

Timing Is Everything: How Microsoft Missed the Smartphone Bus


A casual chat with a friend the other day took me down a rabbit hole while rewinding back and reliving one of tech history’s most fascinating timelines. The story of how timing made all the difference between winning, losing, and completely missing the bus.

I still remember the smirk on Steve Ballmer’s face in 2007 when the iPhone launched. To him, it was just an expensive toy. A year later, Google entered with Android. And Microsoft? They were still busy somewhere else, only to turn up with Windows Phone in 2010 — three years late to a party where the dance floor was already full.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen such a script. Back in 1984, Apple launched the Macintosh — revolutionary but pricey. Bill Gates spotted the gap, came in with Windows in 1985, and paired it with cheap IBM clones. Result? Windows ruled the PC world and nearly crushed Apple in the 90s.

Fast forward to the 2000s, and Steve Jobs repeated his own version of that play — starting with the iPod in 2001, owning the premium music device space, and then morphing it into the iPhone in 2007. Jobs’ brilliance was not just in the product; it was in seeing the inevitable convergence of phone + internet + entertainment before anyone else dared to bet big.

While Apple went after the premium market, the bottom of the pyramid was wide open. And here’s where Google showed killer instinct. They didn’t just copy Apple — they democratized the smartphone by making Android “free” for manufacturers. Suddenly, a web-enabled smartphone wasn’t a luxury; it was the cheaper alternative to owning a PC. Billions could now get online without ever buying a desktop.

Microsoft, in contrast, was still dealing with Vista headaches, chasing corporate server business, and nursing its Zune player. By the time they realized smartphones weren’t “just another niche gadget,” the app stores were already overflowing — for iOS and Android. Developers saw no reason to build for an OS with no users, and Windows Phone faded into irrelevance, officially bowing out in 2017.

Lesson? In business, being late is often worse than being wrong. Apple owned the top, Google owned the bottom, and Microsoft… well, they just owned the regret.

So… We Don’t Talk About That Anymore?


The other day, my gym trainer — who also happens to be a good friend — casually said something that got me thinking. We were chatting about life, routines, and the things no one usually says out loud.

“Ever since our son was born, my wife just isn’t interested anymore,” he said, almost like he was talking about a new diet plan that didn’t work.

No drama. No complaints. Just a fact.

And honestly, it made sense. Life changes after kids. Sleepless nights, endless responsibilities, emotional burnout — romance quietly steps aside while survival takes the front seat.

But does that mean the marriage is broken? I don’t think so.

We’re quick to judge a relationship by how “romantic” or “exciting” it looks from the outside. But in reality, many couples go through long dry patches — emotionally and physically. And often, it’s not about lack of love. It’s exhaustion, stress, changing priorities… sometimes even unspoken resentment.

What stuck with me was how normal he made it sound — no blaming, no overthinking. Just a phase that needs attention. Not counselling, not therapy right away. Maybe just a small conversation that starts with:

“Hey, I miss us.”

Sometimes, that’s all it takes. Not to fix everything, but to stop drifting further.

We all have seasons in relationships. What matters is whether we bother to notice when winter drags on too long.