The Eternal Monk Living a Modern Life

Let’s have a few drinks.”

No.

“Hey! Let’s catch up?”

For what?

You didn’t come to the wedding.

You didn’t come to my birthday.

You didn’t come for gossip, or obligation, or noise.

Of course not.

That is not the way God has built me.

A thought many fail to comprehend is this: I am an old soul. I have lived many lives of imparting wisdom, quietude, and solitude. An eternal monk living a modern life—quite the irony, but true nonetheless.

My soul signed some tough contracts. As they say, God gives the hardest battles to the strongest soldiers. I bring depth to ideas like soul, karma, and purpose. These aren’t conceptual to me—they are lived. When I speak or write about what I know, it isn’t borrowed wisdom. It is etched into my soul.

I have outgrown most things in this lifetime—material excess, familial expectations, even romance.

And yet, I remember another life.

A spoiled brat flying Singapore Airlines business class between Singapore and India. Opening champagne bottles at Raffles Hotel. Flying to Dubai every December just to shop for clothes. Spending money recklessly on what I once called “love,” and on many girlfriends.

That is a life I regret living. I could have done something more meaningful with it. But better late than never, right?

A boy abandoned by his father grows up with no qualms—and no fear of what society projects onto him.

It took years of trauma, repetition, and unconscious patterns to arrive where I am today. And I will not give this up—for a preposterous get-together, or a series of them.

I am here on earth to code and decode the synchronicities of the soul—and to speak of Universal Love.

Like Valancy, the protagonist from The Blue Castle by L. M. Montgomery, who imagined her own Blue Castle, I too live in my monastery—my inner temple.

And here, I am at peace.

Happy New Year to you all.

Wishing you love, peace, and happiness 💜✌️🌻

Why Indian Men Can’t Sleep – And How It’s Aging Them Faster Than They Think

 

If you are doom-scrolling into the late hours of the night often, there is something you should know. Poor sleep is quietly damaging men’s health, looks, and mental strength in India. For many Indian men, being tired and staying up late has become a pride, a badge of honour of sorts. Especially for men between 18 and 45, juggling careers, relationships, and fitness goals. According to The Economic Times, Tele Manas – India’s toll-free mental health helpline has seen a significant number of male callers, who make up 56% of the total calls with sleep disturbances.

The problem isn’t just biological – it’s cultural. In urban India, the masculine ideal has shifted from “provider” to “performer”. A man is expected to be fit, financially driven, socially active, and always online. But it comes with a heavy cost. A constant state of alertness as if he were surviving in the wild. Working from home changed a disciplined pattern and blurred the line between professional and personal time. The late-night scrolling habit replaced quiet rest. Gym culture glorified early mornings after sleepless nights, and a myth of new productivity has taken shape in the country – I shall sleep when I am successful. Ironically, this sleepless grind often backfires. Research links chronic sleep loss to poor concentration, weight gain, and even premature aging. For many years, men in India have been trained not to focus on beauty, deeming it to be a woman’s job and perceiving it as a vain concern for a man. But it is conspicuous because of poor sleep. Dark circles, puffy eyes, and dull skin don’t see gender, nor are they cosmetic annoyances; they are signs of cortisol overload. Now, if you are denying science in today’s age, you are also living in denial.

But what is Cortisol?

A stress hormone, which breaks down collagen and delays skin repair. Sleep deprivation increases cortisol, and men in India have become recent victims of it. Men who groom are doing a fantastic job, but if you also focus on a sound sleep, it may do a lot more than your grooming shelf.

To be honest, the most attractive thing about a man today isn’t his six-pack, salary, or hustle – it’s his ability to rest, recover, and show up fully alive. The problem is that sleep is considered feminine, passive, or indulgent because of the movies we have grown up watching and what men have been taught from back in the day. Especially in a society where men are expected to push through tiredness. In life, to achieve anything, we need clarity, and clarity will only come when men make a conscious decision to sleep better at night, not just look better, but to think clearly, perform stronger, and age steadily.

Threads of Identity: Understanding the Psychology behind Modern Indian Men's Fashion

 

Have you ever heard of the “enclothed cognition” effect? A concept coined by renowned psychologists Hajo Adam and Adam Galinsky. It suggests that the way we dress can influence how we think, feel, and even perform. Now, clothes are no longer just worn – they are inhabited.

Modern Indian men are increasingly using clothing as a daily tool for self-expression. For example, Pastel colours and bold prints, once considered unconventional or feminine for men, are now symbols of confidence and individuality. Fashion is not just a statement of fabric and stitching in India anymore – it is a silent language through which men communicate, a reflection of their personality, mood, and even aspirations. In India, men’s fashion has traditionally leaned towards practicality and conservatism in the past- crisp shirts, dark trousers, and kurta-pyjamas reserved for festivals. The new age of Indian men’s fashion is emerging, one that speaks louder than words and reveals the psychology behind every choice.

The fad of “dress to impress” has transpired into a sustainable and profound impact of “dress to express”. Festivals have become more about kurtas paired with sneakers or a tailored pastel blazer, which signals not just fashion sense, but a willingness to challenge norms.

       THE AMALGAMATION OF CONFIDENCE & CULTURAL IDENTITY:

Fashion for men of late is woven in confidence. For many men, the right outfit can act as an armour, enhancing self-esteem and influencing social perception. Tailored and chic suits, bespoke shirts, and carefully chosen accessories convey authority, sophistication, and taste. Whereas a polo shirt with smart casual trousers, shoes, and spectacles, in contrast to the attire, conveys readiness and comfort. It is no surprise that men are investing more in personal styling than ever before, recognizing that their appearance is a form of silent communication that precedes words. Cultural identity plays a pivotal role in these fashion choices. Urbanization, global exposure, and social media have transformed wardrobes into curated canvases. Bollywood actors, cricket stars, and Instagram influencers act as guides and mentors in this evolution, setting trends that blend Indian heritage with global aesthetics. Emotion drives fashion as much as aesthetics. Men in India are now doing an intricate dance of culture, self-perception, and societal influence, all woven together through the threads of identity. From curating wardrobes that reflect moods, occasions, and social alignment to creating a psychological undertone.

In the new age of Indian men’s fashion, clothing is far more than style; it is psychology in motion. Each outfit tells a story, each colour choice signals intention, and each accessory becomes an extension of self. As Indian men continue to explore these sartorial landscapes, fashion will increasingly become a mirror – not just of society, but of the evolving self.

In the Heart of Assam Lies Divinity | A Spiritual Journey Through Guwahati's Sacred Soul

 

View from Nilachal Hills - Guwahati

This trip was to find a deeper meaning in life.

Discover the divine charm of Guwahati - from the powerful Kamakhya Temple to the serene flow of the Brahmaputra. Explore how Assam's spiritual energy connects nature, faith, and peace in one soulful journey.

Day 1

I took a power nap and, in the evening, went to find peace at the Brahmaputra River - a beautiful experience, particularly because I had been feeling stagnant in the city and travelling to the mountains, a water therapy to remove the negative ions I had absorbed. Watching the river, with the sky turning pink and people basking in divine grace and beauty, was surreal. River watching therapy ended, and I ate dinner at a restaurant called Michinga, a local Assamese thali. The staff were hospitable and courteous, and I felt the essence of Assamese people.

Around 11 pm,  a dangerous thunderstorm struck, and I slept like a baby.

Brahmaputra River

Day 2

I was exhausted, so I wanted to take it easy on day two and explore at my own pace, so I woke up after sleeping for a good ten hours. The weather was pleasant, and I felt the urge to drink hot chocolate. After my morning chores, I went to a café five minutes away called Patty Oh, not my first choice, but I was famished. It was empty, which worked well for me. I researched carefully where to go next, and found Kharghuli Hills - a short 1.3 km, twenty-minute walk. I crossed the Kharguli Sanatan Dharam Mandir. The mandir was closed because it was afternoon, so I prayed from outside for a smooth journey ahead. Khargulli Hills is pristine, with the Brahmaputra River looking right at you. 

Brahmaputra River from Kharguli Hills

Sanatan Temple Kharguli Hills

Patty Oh Cafe! Guwahati

Hot Chocolate

Day 3

A day of endurance, mysticism, magic and 28, 013 steps. My plan to visit Maa Kamakhya Temple at Nilachal Hills in Guwahati turned out to be adventurous, friendly and humble. From my Airbnb to the temple, it was a 7 km walking distance. I explored central Guwahati on foot, with chaos and the city’s authenticity. The pathway to divinity is never easy, but aren’t the easy things doable? I understood that there is much I still have to do.  

Day 4 – 6

After a profound realization, I took rest, recuperated, ate a lot of desserts, and walked in the rain for the next two days. I thank the people I met in Guwahati for conversations, simplicity and guidance.  

The Perfect Sibling | A Heart-warming Indian Short Story of a Boy and a Stray Dog

 

I am happy for everything that God gave me. My loving parents, their respect in the society, the beautiful house we live in, and the good school that I go to. But yes, I do have a strong longing to have a sibling for I am a single child. I feel the need to share my thoughts, feelings and ideas with whom I can be comfortable with, and trust. Being a single child is very lonely and boring. Life doesn’t seem as interesting and exciting as most of my school friends. My parents are always busy in their work, and have no time to spend with me. This makes my life sad. Especially when my friends talk non-stop about their siblings. I personally want a sister because I feel girls are more understanding. They are kind without being judgemental. They have the ability to give good advice. I have observed the girls in my class being smart and intelligent, quick and witty almost ready to offer solution to anything and everything. Honestly, I am surprised at their abilities. I shall pray to God every day that if ever in future, and how I wish it to be in immediate future, I have a sibling, it should be a sister. My baby sister who I will always protect, love and share my thoughts with. The very thought excites me.

 

I walk down to my school as it is barely five minutes away from my home. In the span of those five minutes I see so many street dogs in bad condition, without food and water, no shelter, people running their cars over them or kicking and shooing them away. On the other hand, I also witness dogs of famous breeds walking in style along their parents, or their servants with fancy leashes and dog poopers to quickly remove smelly poop thankfully leaving clean area for others to continue their walk.

I feel sad watching homeless dogs beaten for peeing, pooping, and barking.

 

Poor homeless creatures with longing to be loved run away only to come back later, perhaps to find some loving soul. We face a strange situation in our country. People spend so much money on breeds like St. Bernard's, Siberian Husky’s, Great Danes, Rottweilers and many more. Breeding is one cruel business I heard someone saying once. But what about these humble ones from the country – The Indian Pariah dogs? I find them the finest dogs in the world. They are good looking, sharp, friendly, possessive and have a great attitude. They know how to love the friendly ones and go away from the unfriendly lot. But they are always neglected due to our pretentious society. I strongly suggest to adopt these beautiful street dogs instead of buying and showing off foreign breeds. I am often confused, because I find all of us spending so much money in buying beautiful things, but leave these homeless creatures unattended only to live like orphans. Why can’t people see their sad eyes and take care of them? Can’t we just spend some money on their food and health, and make this world a better place for them. After all, what do they want from us? I am sure our communication and love towards them will make them happy. Out of the bunch, one tiny brown furred one caught my attention. A couple of days back I had stopped at a department store to buy myself a chocolate milkshake. This adorable being was sitting outside the main door of the store looking perhaps to be fed. As I stepped out and stroked this baby it lied on its back only to be rubbed more and feel the warmth. I was delighted to find it a female and a sudden rush of affection flowed from me to her. I had once read that when dogs lie on their back, it meant they like you and want you to pet them. I sat next to her and rubbed her stomach. She looked happy like a child is with mother’s caresses. She felt protected and sheltered and incessantly licked my fingertips and nibbled them in want of food. I looked at her carefully. She seemed to be an abandoned and starved child. Her eyes spoke so much, and I wanted to urgently feed her. I picked her up and went to the pharmacy store that displayed dog food at its entry with only 500 rupees note in my pocket. There was a Pedigree packet in yellow and pink colour which said ‘Puppy- Chicken and Milk’ with images of two dogs cuddling each other. I grabbed the three kilograms’ pack and asked for the price from the man sitting behind the counter. Before he could reply my eyes fell on the sticker mentioning 540/- so I asked if the smaller pack is available which sadly was not. Looking at my unease and my pretty furry baby he extended a discount of forty rupees. I was touched by his gesture which made me think that the world also has kind and generous people. I asked for a scissor, placing her on the floor cut the packet open from top. She immediately sprang pushing me in excitement upon seeing the food and hearing the sound of my hands crumpling the edges backwards, dig her mouth almost inside the packet with arms all the way stretched with determination and firmly kept on my wrist, her legs gave her full support by being solidly placed on the ground. She looked like a little wolf on a hunt.

 

After few days of mutual friendship there was no sign of her. I was now worried. Was she alright? I hoped she was not harmed. I went to the department store and to the pharmacy in case she was hiding there for safety but to my surprise she was nowhere to be seen. I asked the tea vendor situated at the corner of the lane, as I had seen her couple of times chewing the disposable tea cups. I had always stopped her from chewing those cups and fed her with her favourite pedigree ‘Chicken and Milk’ dog food. I also questioned the florist adjacent to the department store as she was fond of smelling the fragrant flowers, especially lavender and orchids kept in the bucket at the entrance of the shop, her head high with her elongated neck. No one was interested to know about her. The flowers didn’t look beautiful in her absence nor the fragrance was noticeable. I even went to the local sweets shop as I thought the smell of sweets might have invited her to chance on something. But the owner had no idea of her whereabouts. Without her it seemed as if my heart drowned in the ocean.

 

Days passed by.

 

Today, in my mathematics class the teacher caught me drawing. Obviously, I drew my soft brown four-legged baby. Her sad face. The teacher yelled at me asking, “what is this? Is this what you do in your Maths class?” I weakly apologised and carefully looked at the drawing to see if I had missed anything to it. And then it struck me. To redraw her ears in somewhat triangular shape with drooping edges. I made a firm decision to later fill in the picture with my crayons that I had received on my eighth birthday last year from my maternal grandmother. But my thoughts were distracted as the teacher held my hands angrily and dragged me to the principal’s office. Perhaps I did not hear her reiterated warning. At the dining table both pair of eyes were on me, moms were soft and caring, but dads were of irritation. The principal had complained to my parents about my inattentiveness. My father is a Chartered Accountant and he takes the subject of Maths extremely seriously. Any digression from it is highly intolerable to him. I was quiet on the table and would have kept quiet throughout, but I think I had to vent the anger out because of loneliness or maybe I missed my brown little furry friend too much. Everything was alright up till dad said, “we sent you to a good school Ronit. And this is how you make use of it, drawing in your Maths class. It is shameful”. I was almost in tears but kept my expression firm to keep my dignity. When he did not get any reaction from me, I heard him saying, you will not go to your art classes from now on. This hit me. Art classes were like balm to my lonely evenings. I stood up crying unmindful of my tears and screamed somewhat frustratingly, this would have not happened if I had a sibling. You both have no time to spend with me. My evenings are sad and boring, and by the time you come back from your respective work I am off to bed. I made a harmless friend and now even she has gone away. The pain of loneliness is heart tearing and dangerous. Wiping my tears and clearing my throat I continued, “it is almost lethal dad. I am very lonely. Why does everyone leave me? I am alone at home, in school, even my dog friend has left me now. You both are too busy in your lives to feel my pain and now I can’t even draw?

It is only the blank drawing sheets who understand me and listen to me. It lets me express myself and talk. And now you are taking that away from me. I then ran away to my room. I could see the lightning from the window. So, I went to the balcony and all I could think of was my brown furry friend. I was worried of her whereabouts. After sometime I came back to the room and sat on my bean bag. The drawing was still kept on the dining table and mom must have had a look at it. While I heard the strong rain pouring outside, I simultaneously heard her speak to dad. You should at least have a look at his drawing. It is beautiful. He is sensitive and cares for the street dogs. We hardly spend time with him and he is right about having a sibling. They talked for some time but with my grief I could not understand. It was getting late enough to be worried. I once again stepped into the balcony and looked down. Except for a drenched street dog that was lying down miserably near the corner of the gate, there was not a soul to be seen anywhere. Rain water had puddled under the lamp post. A breeze ruffled the mango tree in the courtyard and a few twigs fell down and broke. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Did I hear a soft knock at the door? I turned back and went to open the door. Mom was standing with her consoling eyes and asked me if I wanted to drink a cup of hot chocolate.

It is raining. Hot drink would do you good, she said. No thanks. I am fine mom. I replied dramatically, and went to the balcony again. As I stood embracing my sadness, I could not see the drenched street dog that was earlier lying near the gate. I was stunned. Why did everyone seem to vanish in a jiffy from my life? Mom sat on my bed with a confounding smile on her face. I didn’t want to look miserable to her. So, I went to the kitchen to eat my favourite Oreo cookies to brighten up my mood and when I stepped out of the kitchen, I saw the main door of the house open and dad standing right in front of me.

He said, Ronit, there is someone who would like to meet you. I could not understand who would want to see me at ten in the night. I went near the door and heard different forms of onomatopoeia. There she was. My eyes popped open wide and tears of joy trickled down my cheeks. She jumped right at me and I held her in my arms. I kissed her and hugged her tight. My excitement of reunion knew no bounds. She had grown big in these three weeks but looked weak. Her tiny paws touched my face for reassurance and her unstoppable licks made me happy and loved. Mom fed her with milk and me with hot chocolate milk.

Later Dad told me that he recognised the drooping ears in the drawing. It was the very dog that sat under his car in the basement parking and even he had felt affection for this little being. As soon he had seen the drawing he went to the parking where she was peacefully sleeping at her usual place. It took a while to get her as she was first frightened. Luckily, anticipating non-co-operation from the frail being his intellect had alerted him to carry dog biscuits to lure her. After a pause and watching my indulgence with her, Dad continued, I think you both are inseparable, Ronit. I am sorry. I should have understood you better. By the way, she will live with us now. He looked at mom with a smile. They both looked at us and it felt like the family was complete. I could not let her go off my arms and I thanked God for giving me what I wanted.

 

“She is not a human but she is my perfect sibling.”

Stop Trying to Control Life | How Letting Go Helps You Beat Procrastination

 

Three months ago someone asked me on my YouTube channel:

How can we take the control of our life back? Why can't I stop procrastinating? Why do I disappoint myself every time? Even though I know what I am doing is wrong but I am still not able to prevent it. Why my emotions are so complex?

We can't control anything. But as far as procrastination is concerned, it occurs because we fear taking the necessary steps, as we form the notion that failure will result in sadness and embarrassment. Now, what is even failure? We really can't deem not getting something failure. Imagine this - when someone likes a person or something, it becomes an ardent want and desire. 

After getting it, it often happens that we realize this was not even what we wanted. We are programmed to be in a certain way from our childhood, and many factors keep us living in an endless loop - our upbringing, surroundings, and conditionings. 

The incredible thing is that you have realized you deserve more and want to design a life for yourself in your own way. Now, whatever you want out of life, please write it down somewhere. The things you desire emotionally and the things you want to achieve - career, personal growth, and your inner peace. It will take time, but the process will begin. You are procrastinating because you have become comfortable with your current environment. Once you identify your flaws, the things you have gone through - your trauma, failure, deceit, or it could be anything. You will start getting answers in tandem. You will get a solution, and you act upon it. The decision would be harsh and transformative, but only because you will be shunning years of attachment and pain. The darkness will do its best to lure you. You have to find that tiny ray of light in the darkness and step into the light. Things will start happening.