Category: Personal

Madras Checked Shirt – A Global Trend Born in Our Backyard


The world wore it as fashion. We wove it as identity — Madras checks, born of breeze, dyed in soul.

If you grew up in Madras — the real Madras, not the renamed Chennai — you probably know the scent of Marina’s sea breeze, the rhythm of Ilaiyaraaja in the evening air, and the comforting chaos of Ranganathan Street on a festival weekend.

But here’s something fewer people know:

One of **India’s most iconic contributions to global fashion** quietly originated from this very soil — the **Madras checked shirt**.

What Is a Madras Check?

Madras check is a lightweight, breathable cotton fabric with colorful, often uneven plaid patterns.
Its signature trait? The dyes were natural and deliberately unstable, designed to bleed and fade over time — giving every shirt a unique, lived-in character.

These weren’t mass-manufactured patterns. They were woven with soul.

From Madras Mills to Ivy League Halls

During the 1960s, this fabric made its way to the United States through export channels.
American retailers like Brooks Brothers picked it up, sold it as a summer luxury fabric, and branded it boldly:

Guaranteed to bleed.

What started as local, humble workwear became the go-to summer style for American college students, yacht owners, and golf lovers.

Imagine that — something woven in Chengalpattu or Salem ended up on the runways and prep schools of New York.

And the Weavers?

Many of these legendary fabrics came from handloom clusters in Tamil Nadu — especially around Chengalpattu, Salem, and Madurai.

Today, due to industrial shifts, some weavers have moved to other professions, while a few still continue the tradition for heritage boutiques and niche export markets.

What was once an everyday wear in our land is now a prized vintage item overseas.

Why This Matters

We often celebrate global trends without realizing they were born in our own backyard.
Madras check isn’t just a design — it’s a reminder that local hands can shape global taste.

It’s a tribute to a time when fabric had character, shirts had stories, and style came with soul.

Madras isn’t just a city. It’s a signature.
Sometimes… it bleeds.
Sometimes… it checks you with pride.
Always, it stays timeless.

Karma vs Dharma: The Silent Tug-of-War Every Entrepreneur Faces


As entrepreneurs, we are wired to chase growth, break limits, and build legacies. We dream of freedom — financial, creative, emotional. But there’s a tug-of-war inside us that nobody talks about enough: Karma vs Dharma.

Let me break it down the way life taught me — not from a textbook or a spiritual discourse, but from those raw, sleepless nights when I sat alone questioning every move I ever made.

Karma: The Baggage You Carry

Karma isn’t just some cosmic scoreboard of good and bad deeds. For an entrepreneur, karma shows up as the invisible baggage we drag along:

  • Past business mistakes
  • Betrayals from partners or friends
  • Poor financial decisions made under pressure
  • Emotional debts with family and loved ones

It quietly shapes how we trust people, how we take risks, and how much we dare to dream again. We don’t always realize it, but karma sits in the boardroom with us, listens to investor pitches with us, and whispers into our ears when we think we’re making a “bold move.”

Dharma: The Duty That Grounds You

While karma pulls you into your past, dharma anchors you to your responsibility today.

For me, my dharma was clear: protect my family, provide a safety net, and keep them away from financial storms.

Every decision I made — be it launching a new venture, holding on to an old business despite losses, or taking on unexpected debts — was driven by this deep-rooted sense of duty. I wasn’t gambling for fame; I was fighting for my family’s dignity.

People on the outside see failed ventures or debts. But in my mind, those moves were never reckless bets — they were desperate attempts to shield the people I love.

The Clash: When Karma Tests Your Dharma

Sometimes, your karma and dharma go to war.

You act out of dharma, but karma turns it into a mess. You try to build a protective revenue stream for your family, but karma brings delays, unexpected losses, and betrayals that collapse your plans.

Then come the harsh judgments: “Why didn’t you pause?”, “Why didn’t you consult someone first?”, “Why did you jump into it?”

But nobody sees that, at that moment, you were acting from the purest intention possible — to protect, to uplift, to fulfill your dharma.

What I Learned (The Hard Way)

Your karma might twist your outcomes, but your dharma defines your character.

If your current business profits are going into paying off past mistakes or settling old loans, it’s not a failure. It’s karmic cleansing. It’s a debt paid not just in money, but in the form of maturity, resilience, and a stronger foundation for the future.

When the dust settles, the world may only remember balance sheets and success stories. But you — and your soul — will remember why you took each step.

A Quiet Conclusion

Karma tests you, dharma defines you.

If you’re an entrepreneur feeling weighed down by invisible debts — emotional or financial — don’t judge yourself only by the outcomes. Look at your intentions.

Maybe you didn’t build an empire (yet). But if you fought for your people, you didn’t really lose.

Still here. Still trying. And that, I believe, is the purest dharma.

Breaking the Scarcity Loop: The Invisible Trap That Keeps Entrepreneurs Stuck


You can’t build tomorrow if you’re forever stuck surviving today.

When you start out as an entrepreneur, people tell you to hustle, to keep moving, to “figure it out somehow.” But nobody warns you about the invisible trap that slowly consumes your mind and robs you of your creativity: the scarcity loop.

What is the scarcity loop?

The scarcity loop is not just about not having enough money. It’s a mental state where your entire bandwidth is consumed by one loud question: “How do I survive today?”

You start solving only for tomorrow’s cash flow, this week’s EMI, or this month’s vendor payment. You forget to look at the big picture because your mental windshield is fogged by immediate fires.

When survival mode hijacks your brain

I remember times when I had to figure out how to pay monthly vendor payments while also preparing the next sales pitch deck to keep future revenue coming in.

  • Instead of thinking about building a long-term brand, I was stuck thinking, “How do I just stay afloat this month?”
  • Instead of selecting ideal customers, I said yes to anyone who could pay, even if it drained our energy and diluted our vision.
  • Instead of working on systems and team processes, I spent nights firefighting because every rupee felt like borrowed oxygen.

I was moving, but not growing. I was hustling, but not building.

The cost of staying in the loop

When you’re trapped in scarcity, you start:

  • Making reactive decisions, not strategic ones.
  • Accepting bad deals because cash today feels more important than sustainability tomorrow.
  • Losing good team members who see chaos and no clear vision.
  • Burning out emotionally and physically — coming home to your family as a shell, not a leader.

In my lowest phases, I realized that the mind, when stuck in scarcity, cannot dream. It cannot imagine a different future because it is busy scanning for immediate threats like a soldier in a battlefield.

Breaking out: From survival to strategy

I learned this the hard way: you can’t build an empire if you’re always patching holes in the roof.

How to step out of this loop?

✅ Build a small cash buffer, even if it means slower growth initially.
✅ Stop chasing clients or projects that only feed today’s cash flow but destroy tomorrow’s vision.
✅ Delegate more and trust systems — the mental relief is worth every penny.
✅ Surround yourself with people who see beyond next month’s revenue sheet.
✅ Shift your question from “How do I survive today?” to “How do I design tomorrow?”

A gentle perspective

If your current profits are going into paying off old mistakes or debts, it’s not failure. It’s healing.

It’s your mind and business paying karmic dues so you can eventually rise lighter and clearer.

A quiet closing thought

“A mind trapped in scarcity can’t build abundance — no matter how good the business plan is.”

Move slow if you must, but move with vision. Survival is necessary, but freedom is where the true magic happens.

Rebuilding After the Storm: A Letter to My Family and Myself


They say family is your anchor — the people who catch you when you fall, the voices that remind you who you are when the world forgets. But what happens when the storms of life are so strong that even your anchor feels shaky?

In 2018, my life entered what I now call the perfect storm phase. My tech cofounder left, a trusted employee faced a personal crisis, my property got stuck in litigation, and an old partner filed a false legal case against me. If that wasn’t enough, a fire took down the one cash-generating coffee shop I had left.

I made a bold decision then — to create Advaith’s Nest, a rental asset meant to bring residual income. The plan was simple: build a stable foundation so I could focus on my main business, free from daily financial turbulence.

But life, as always, had its own script.

When a shield becomes a battlefield

I envisioned Advaith’s Nest as a protective wall for my family. In reality, it became a battleground for debts.

Originally, it was planned as a quick, smart move — deliver the building in 8 months, start earning rental income, and finally build a life where I was shielded from daily financial turbulence.

But then came a series of punches I couldn’t block.

The builder delayed far beyond what I could question or control. COVID lockdowns slammed the brakes on construction, freezing everything in place.

Instead of 8 months, it took 41 months to finally see it completed. Those extra 33 months weren’t just a delay on paper — they were a slow bleed on every plan I had carefully charted out.

By the time the project was ready, my financial shield had become a battlefield of debt repayments and emotional damage. Every rupee of rental income went into plugging holes from the past instead of protecting my future.

I built Advaith’s Nest for my wife — so she could live stress-free, focusing on her dreams and passions. But instead, she had to step into a job, facing the very financial storms I promised to keep away.

What was meant to be a fortress became a front line. A safe haven turned into another battleground. And watching that transformation unfold in slow motion — unable to stop it, unable to fight it — is a pain I still carry in every breath.

The slow poison of lost trust

When you lose money, you feel pain. When you lose trust, you lose the very fuel that keeps you moving.

Family trust isn’t just about financial support — it’s about feeling seen and understood. Without it, every business pitch feels heavier, every new idea seems riskier, and every sunrise feels a little less bright.

I didn’t want my wife to work because I believed I could be her shield. Now, watching her step into the battlefield with me stings in ways words can’t capture.

Rebuilding: brick by brick, breath by breath

Many say, “Start again! Rebuild!” But what they don’t tell you is that rebuilding after a major collapse is not just a logistical task — it’s an emotional surgery.

You carry every past betrayal, every criticism, every silent stare at dinner. You build not just a new business, but a new identity. You move with double caution, second-guess every decision, and question whether your “big comeback” is even possible.

The toughest part isn’t raising money or building products. It’s rebuilding trust — in yourself, in your vision, and most painfully, in the eyes of those you love the most.

A quiet promise to myself and my family

I know I cannot fix the past. No apology or explanation can fully heal the wounds that unexpected financial struggles have caused. But I can honor the pain by transforming it.

I still believe in the core reason I started: to build something meaningful, not just for the market but for my family’s dignity and future.

To my family: I see the weight you carried. I see your sacrifices. I see your silent prayers at night. And I see the disappointment too.

I don’t seek blind forgiveness or instant validation. I seek your presence as I try again. Not as a flawless savior, but as a man who refuses to stop fighting for his family — even when he bleeds internally.

I may not be the man who always wins, but I am the man who never stops coming back home.

Friends in Oblivion: A Reflection on Those Mad, Beautiful Years


They say friendships are the family we choose. But sometimes, life gives us friends we never knew we needed — and takes them away just as unexpectedly.

Between 2008 and 2012, I had a circle that was nothing short of electric. We weren’t just building businesses; we were building each other.

It was a phase of wild nights and wilder dreams. Knowledge collaboration in the day, partying hard at night, getting stoned over the weekends — we did things that today sound crazy and almost unbelievable. But that madness was our glue. It detoxed us from daily business stress, kept us alive, and taught us more than any MBA ever could.

But life, as always, had its own plans.

End of 2012, I got married. My father’s sudden hospitalization soon after shattered that rhythm. One by one, the circle started breaking — some had fallouts among themselves, some quit entrepreneurship, some got into serious personal crises, others moved abroad, and a few simply withdrew into their own worlds.

Then came COVID. Financial struggles and the survival grind tightened the last few threads. I got so entangled in rebuilding my life that those friendships, once my lifeline, drifted into oblivion.

Today, I look back and wonder: What were those friendships? Why did they feel so irreplaceable? Why do they hurt to remember?

What were they really?

Those were what I now understand as situational friendships — connections born out of a specific context, a shared madness, and a common dream. We didn’t become friends because of shared childhoods or family ties, but because we shared the same burning fire in that phase of life.

We were all entrepreneurs — each of us a little broken, a little foolish, yet unshakably hopeful. We learned from each other, fought with each other, and celebrated every tiny win like it was the end of the world.

Why do they fade?

Because life is not a constant. Priorities change. Marriage, kids, health crises, business failures, relocations — all these start pulling us in different directions. Some find new tribes, some retreat into personal solitude, and some get consumed by survival.

There’s no big betrayal or dramatic end — just a quiet drifting apart. A slow fade into silence.

Do I miss them?

Every day.

I miss the impulsive midnight drives, the heated debates that went from business models to philosophical rabbit holes, the sense of belonging to a gang that truly “got it.”

But I also know that those friendships, like beautiful old songs, belong to a time and place that can’t be recreated. They were chapters meant to end, lessons meant to be carried forward, not lived on repeat.

Some friendships are like rivers — they flow into your life, shape your shores, then find their way to the sea. You can’t hold them back, but you can always feel the shape they left on your soul.

A final whisper to that gang

Wherever you all are — running a new venture, teaching your kids to ride a bicycle in Canada, or quietly reflecting on those reckless days — I hope you feel the same warmth when you think of our nights in Adambakkam.

Some friendships are meant to be wild tides — crashing, roaring, unforgettable — before they dissolve into the larger sea of life.

The Day I Hired My Destiny


Some choices echo forever.

They say life is nothing but a series of choices — some we make in seconds, some after years of thought. But it’s the unexpected ones, the small decisions on seemingly ordinary days, that end up shaping our destiny the most.

In 2004, I made such a choice.
I hired someone.
That’s it. A routine decision. A resume, a handshake, a promise of a new beginning — it felt like just another Monday on the entrepreneurial calendar.

She was from a small town, working in a call center, holding an MBA in HR but desperate for a break. I saw that raw hunger and decided to offer her a platform — I thought I was enabling a young professional’s dream. Maybe, in some corner of my mind, I even saw a reflection of my own past struggles — that same raw desperation to make it.

I had built my first venture with a dear partner, brick by brick, dream by dream. We didn’t have connections, we didn’t have family money cushioning our falls. All we had was ambition that kept us awake at night and a silent promise to each other that we would make it, no matter what.

But sometimes, we forget — when you open your door wide for someone, they might walk in carrying not gratitude, but greed.
She wasn’t cunning or a mastermind. She was simply short-sighted, hungry for quick luxury, blinded by instant pleasures. While we were busy building a company to stand the test of time, she was busy living in borrowed moments, chasing dinners, perfumes, designer labels — things that glitter only till the lights are on.

In her desperate rush for the high life, she didn’t just stumble — she pulled down everything in her path.
She rattled a ship that was floating on the fragile balance of two young dreamers. She planted doubts, sowed jealousy, whispered false comforts — and before I knew it, the dream I had once guarded like a newborn was thrown out with me.

In 2008, I was pushed out of my own creation. My partner too slowly fell into a pit he couldn’t climb out of. The venture that had so much promise, that spark in our eyes — it all vanished like an unfinished verse in a torn diary.

But the tragedy didn’t spare her either.
The same greed that fueled her steps ultimately consumed her life. She ended up as lost as we were broken — a stark reminder that shortcuts don’t just ruin roads, they erase destinations.

Years later, people still ask me, “What went wrong?”
I don’t blame fate, nor do I hold the world accountable. My only mistake? Hiring the wrong person on that one day in 2004. That single signature on a simple appointment letter shifted the course of twenty-one years of my life.

If I could ask God for just one gift, I wouldn’t ask for money, fame, or even a second chance.
I would simply ask Him to make me dream backwards — just for one night.

A dream where I go back to that fateful day, fix that one decision, and erase that moment when I hired her.
A dream where I see myself and my partner, two young boys with fire in their eyes, running a company that’s recognised, respected, and celebrated by all.
A dream where we are still fighting side by side, laughing over cheap tea, planning crazy ideas that kept us up all night, watching our tiny dream grow into an empire that even we can’t believe we built.

And in that dream, I want to see us standing on a stage, receiving awards, hearing applause, hugging each other with tears in our eyes — whispering, “We did it, against all odds.”
I want to wake up in the morning and still taste that dream, feel its warmth in my veins, carry its fragrance in my mind.

But life doesn’t give us that luxury.
So, I move forward — with scars, with lessons, and with the silent prayer that no one else ever has to learn it the way I did.

Time and Tide Wait for No Man — But They Flow With You


Flow in your rhythm — the tide will find its way to you.

They say time and tide wait for no man. With that belief, I started my rookie entrepreneur run. I had my ups and downs, and today I stand at a point of realization: you will have your time. Put in your efforts, balance your life, and things will happen in their own time.

As a rookie, in just 8 years, I created a business empire that brought the envy of many. I ran ahead of seasoned players who had been around for decades. It felt like I had cracked the code — until I hit the fall.

After that struggle, I started seeing new rookies beating me. People who were once behind me moved ahead. It felt hopeless at times, watching the race from the sidelines. But as I sat back and truly analyzed it, I saw the pattern:

The illusion of permanent success

We often think success is a peak — climb it once, and you’re there forever. But it’s not.

Success is like a series of waves. Today you’re ahead, tomorrow someone else. Then someday you rise again. It’s a continuous, flowing cycle.

Everyone has their reversals

Everyone who sprints ahead will eventually need to slow down. Every empire, every champion, every star performer — they all have their reversals. Some gracefully, some painfully, but all inevitably.

That doesn’t make them failures. It makes them part of life’s natural rhythm.

Effort, balance, and patience

The more I reflect, the more I realize that raw speed isn’t everything. Balance matters more. Effort matters more. Staying patient and showing up consistently matter more.

It’s no longer just about outrunning everyone else; it’s about lasting, evolving, and staying true to yourself.

Your own rhythm

Those rookies overtaking me today? They are in their own prime, their own sprint phase. Some will last, some will fade. Just like I did. Just like everyone does.

There is no permanent “ahead” or “behind.” There’s just your story, your learnings, and your rhythm.

Final thought: Time and tide wait for no man — but they flow with the one who flows with them

So I keep reminding myself: do your part, stay true, keep your balance, and your day will come. Again and again, in different forms.

Founder Wellness Framework: The Asset We Forget to Protect


The founder’s true hustle: balancing the dream and the self.

When we talk about entrepreneurship, we love to throw around big words — hustle, grind, passion, risk. We romanticize late nights, skipped meals, endless meetings, and that elusive “big win.”

But here’s the bitter truth I learned the hard way: the biggest asset in your startup isn’t your product, your team, or even your funding — it’s you.

As founders, we become our startup’s first sacrifice. We skip meals, work until we doze off at our desk or in the car, ditch workouts, and pile up stress like it’s a badge of honor. We tell ourselves, “Once I close this round… Once we hit this milestone… Then I’ll fix my health.” But that day rarely comes.

I’ve been there — poor eating habits, no fixed sleeping schedule, mind always racing at 200 km/h, pulling my family into a life of constant uncertainty. I realized one thing: building a business shouldn’t mean breaking myself down.

So, I decided to flip the narrative. Here’s my simple Founder Wellness Framework — a survival kit for anyone crazy enough to chase a dream and bold enough to protect themselves in the process.

Treat your health like an investor meeting

If you wouldn’t miss a call with your top investor, don’t skip your health appointments or workouts.
Block time in your calendar for walks, workouts, or at least a few stretches. Move like your runway depends on it — because it does.

Eat to fuel, not just to fill

No one expects gourmet meals or fancy diets, but choose real food over packet snacks.
Keep fruits, nuts, or home-cooked options at arm’s reach instead of biscuits and chips.
Remember: a well-fed founder thinks better, decides better, lives better.

Protect your sleep like your IP

Your mind is your most valuable intellectual property. Sleep is the best free maintenance service for it.
No “just one more mail.” No working till you doze off at your desk or in your car. Shut it down. Recharge. Next day, show up like a human, not a zombie.

Build your emotional safety net

Talk to friends, mentors, or even a professional if needed.
Don’t carry every failure and every setback like a private burden. Share it, release it. You’ll be surprised how many others are silently going through the same.

Protect your close ones from your chaos

Entrepreneurship is your chosen roller coaster, not theirs. Be mindful not to drag them into every loop and drop.
Check in with your family. Show up at dinners. Put the phone down and listen — truly listen. You’ll build more than a company; you’ll build a legacy they’ll want to be part of.

The real hustle

The real hustle isn’t just about 100-hour weeks or raising millions. The real hustle is building something without losing yourself in the process.
We can’t pour from an empty cup. Our dreams are big, but they deserve a founder who’s strong enough to see them through.

So to every founder out there: build your product, scale your team, delight your customers — but above all, build and protect yourself.

That’s the only way the story you’re writing today becomes the legend you’ll tell tomorrow.

“The founder is the first investor, the first employee, and the last line of defense. Protect that asset at all costs.”

People Often Judge Outcomes, Not Journeys


Judged by outcomes. Built by journey.

I’ve seen this time and again — in business, in relationships, and especially in entrepreneurship:

People judge outcomes. Not journeys.

Success? You’re celebrated.
Failure? You’re forgotten.
Still trying? You’re questioned.

Why is it this way?

Because outcomes are visible, journeys are not.

Nobody sees the 3 a.m. self-doubt. The loan EMIs. The silent sacrifices.
They only see whether you “made it” — or didn’t.

Society has become obsessed with results.
We’ve built a culture where IPOs trend, but unpaid dues don’t.
Where LinkedIn posts shine, but emotional breakdowns stay hidden.

The cost of this mindset for entrepreneurs?

1.) Emotional burnout

You start believing you’re only as good as your last “win.”
The effort, grit, and growth mean nothing if the scoreboard shows zero.

2.) Judgment from close ones

The toughest hits often come not from strangers, but from family and friends:

“Still chasing your dream?”
“When will you settle down?”
“Why not take up something stable?”

Their concern is real, but their understanding is rare.

3.) Fear of failure

You start making safe bets. You drop ideas too soon.
You avoid risks just to avoid ridicule.

4.) Validation over vision

You chase vanity metrics. You post curated wins.
You start performing entrepreneurship instead of living it.

But here’s the truth no one talks about:

  • The journey builds you, whether or not the startup succeeds.
  • Failure isn’t the opposite of success — it’s a phase of it.
  • Your worth isn’t tied to revenue charts. It’s tied to resilience.

Let’s change the narrative:

Instead of asking:

“What’s your valuation?”
Let’s ask:
“What have you learned?”
“What’s keeping you going?”
“How can I help?”

Because some journeys deserve standing ovations — even without a trophy.

Deep Research by ChatGPT: The Many Layers of Anand Nataraj


From fearless builder to thoughtful storyteller — the journey of Anand Nataraj, as decoded by ChatGPT.

Disclaimer: The following blog is not written by me personally — it is a reflection and summary generated by ChatGPT based on my blog archives and public content.

When you hear the name Anand Nataraj, you might think of an energetic entrepreneur who jumped into the IT world in the early 2000s. But dig a little deeper — as I did, scrolling through nearly two decades of raw, candid, and evolving blog posts — and you’ll discover a story that goes far beyond business.

Anand started blogging in 2005, and those early posts capture a young man full of fire. Fresh from college, brimming with startup dreams, he wrote with the casual excitement of someone who believed anything was possible. Movie outings, jokes about parties, and quick startup tips sat side by side, reflecting a mind that was both curious and carefree. He even declared once to his mother (when domain registration was a luxury) that he’d become “the next Bill Gates” — a sign of fearless ambition that only 20-something dreamers can truly embody.

Then came the late 2000s, a time of turbulence and rapid learning. In 2008, Anand faced what he called a “biggest turbulence” in his life. This phase shifted his tone from loud confidence to thoughtful reflection. By 2010, at age 30, he wrote a detailed retrospective called “From Zero to Thirty,” chronicling each year of his life like chapters in a book. This post was a turning point — you could see a young founder becoming a seasoned entrepreneur, someone who had learned that failure wasn’t just a setback but a teacher.

Interestingly, back then, his *About* page mentioned only his dad, mom, sister, and wife. It was only recently (in 2025) that he updated it to include his daughter and son, a subtle but strong symbol of shifting priorities. Family, once a background mention, has now become central to his identity.

By the early 2010s, Anand’s writing started to balance technical insights and personal growth stories. Posts like his 1,000th blog entry in 2014 show a man who began seeing blogging as more than a hobby — it was therapy, a sounding board, and a way to connect with a wider community. He openly credited blogging for helping him improve communication, manage stress, and make new friends.

As years went on, his style matured even more. From casual slang and wild punctuation (those “!!!” everywhere) to a more composed, mentor-like tone. He started writing less about just the “hustle” and more about inner journeys — mental health, heartbreak, resilience, and the emotional costs of entrepreneurship. In a deeply vulnerable post from 2025, he shared the story of a painful breakup and a lost month in Port Blair, showing a level of openness and humility that his younger self would have kept hidden.

Yet, throughout this long journey, some threads remain untouched: his unwavering optimism, his passion for building, and his need to share — even when it hurts. Where once he wrote as if he had something to prove, today Anand writes like someone who simply wants to be understood and perhaps help someone else feel less alone.

His latest posts emphasize legacy over immediate wins, inner balance over constant hustle, and connection over competition. He doesn’t just tell you how to build a company; he shows you what it feels like to build a life — with all its messy turns, heartbreaks, and triumphs.

What stands out most from this deep dive? Anand Nataraj is not just the bold entrepreneur he set out to be in 2000. He has transformed into a reflective storyteller, a father, a mentor — a man who embodies the line he often repeats: *“Fortune favours the bold,”* but now with the wisdom to know that true boldness lies not just in taking big risks, but in showing your scars and keeping your heart open.

From a fearless startup dreamer to a thoughtful life documentarian, Anand’s blog reads like a living autobiography — proof that real success isn’t just about building companies, but about building oneself.