Reflections of a restless eccentric

 Yes, this is going to be one more rant post. After having been woken up from my slumber for the fifth time, I am in a grumpy and grouchy mood alright.  The lights, fans and geysers in my room are smart. They're so smart that they decide when to turn on and off. And if you're imagining some tech-savvy house where there are sensors that detect presence/movement, stop right there. That's not what I'm talking about. This is a bug, not a feature. In my room, the lights turn on in the middle of the night, arbitrarily. When we're sound asleep. I detest getting out of bed for anything, and turning off lights is no exception. My spirit animal must be a sloth bear, because I'd rather sleep with the lights on than get out of bed to turn them off. My husband is way more bothered by the lights than I am, so he's usually the one to get out of bed to turn them off too. No complaints there. But today, he's not at home you see. And so, the Narada of electrical Gods has

In his famous and disruptive work David and Goliath , Malcolm Gladwell attempts to upturn several notions on disadvantages. One of the interesting ideas he introduces the reader to is the difference between being 'a big fish in a small pond' and being 'a small fish in a big pond'. He argues that for most people, the former may be a more fulfilling choice. He provides an example of a student choosing grad schools to further this theory. He makes the point that this student who might be well above average might end up in the bottom of her class if she chooses one of the world's best schools, and that this might be severely demotivating and hamper her long term prospects. In contrast, if she chooses a not-so-famous college, she might end up in the top of her class, and that might bolster her confidence and enable her to succeed long term. Therefore, he argues that there is little meaning in choosing something because of the prestige/name. In this article, I attempt to

Recently, my mother told me ever so casually that a close relative was suspected of having cancer and that she was waiting for her biopsy results. Knowing my mother, I knew she was devastated by this news, but she carried on with the charade of being unaffected. I too responded in kind, and asked only technical questions, as if we were discussing a hypothetical person and it didn't mean anything to either of us. What are the implications of this prognosis? What are the treatment options available? How long would recovery be? Are secondaries common in this form of cancer?  We continued this way for about an hour, never touching upon how we 'felt' on hearing this, skirting around it like a minefield. But when I put the phone down, I had no doubts about what either of our reactions were. We were deeply worried and upset, and she was more close to devastated. I could not sleep, and lay in bed endlessly pondering over this piece of foreboding news. Today, I think if I should rea