Money and me

I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and in hindsight, that was a blessing. It made me wiser, more resourceful, and, dare I say, quite good at stretching a rupee! I learnt from my mother too about wasteful expenditure and saving for the future. I remember having an empty Ponds powder tin, with a slit underneath into which I put in any coins given to me and at times, I could find few at home! I guess that’s how I began my journey with money. (We Indians call it a Gullak! but I am not sure if any kids save these days ! ) Growing up, I never received a weekly or monthly allowance like many of my peers, but I never really missed it. Instead, I’d get a rupee or two now and then, and I distinctly remember the excitement of receiving five rupees for a school fete. That was a fair sum back in the day! Of course, some of my schoolmates were getting 25, even 50 rupees—practically a king’s ransom in comparison! Thinking back, I did manage to get a few annas for ice cream, marbles, guavas and lemon sweets. My journey with money truly began when I started working at a young age at GEEP Flashlight Industries in Allahabad, India. My first salary? A princely 480 rupees. I felt on top of the world! I gave my mother 200 rupees, saved about 150, and spent the rest—modestly, of course. That small saving proved invaluable when I pursued my B.Ed. Short on funds, I borrowed from a priest and paid him back in installments—a lesson in responsibility that stayed with me. Then came my time at The Bishop’s School, Pune, where the salary wasn’t much more, but the perks were great—accommodation, food, and the opportunity to earn a little extra through private tuitions. I saw boys getting pocket money—two to five rupees a week—some even had extra funds banked with their dormitory in-charge. But here’s the catch: they had to justify why they needed more! That memory still makes me smile. The richer boys, of course, had secret stashes courtesy of their parents. Some even had running tabs at Main Street shops, the school canteen, the ice cream vendor, and the ever-popular Manji, who sold snacks from his cart. It was a different world altogether! My first few large purchases after getting married were on installments that I paid without fail on the first day of the month – a fridge and a scooter! Even today , I never let any bills pile up and I am proud to say that I have never taken a loan ! At 18, I started playing part-time in a band, adding another income stream. I won’t say I became a rock star, but it certainly helped! When I moved to Dubai, things improved financially, but my habits never changed. Five-star hotels, lavish parties, exotic holidays and extravagant outings were never my style. I live well, but I’ve always believed in saving for the future rather than squandering money on fleeting pleasures. Even now, although I can certainly afford to, I never go in for wasteful expenditure. I still bargain to the best of my ability and watch my spending. After all, why pay more when you don’t have to? The only things I don’t mind spending too much on are clothes and shoes—and that too, not designers wear by any chance! I have brought up my two daughters the same way, teaching them the value of money and how to spend and invest prudently. Thankfully, they have learned well. Schools, too, can and must do more. Rather than spending so much time on subjects and topics that have little or no bearing on real life, money management is a life skill that should be compulsory. After all, isn’t financial stability a key part of overall well-being? I firmly believe children must be taught about money and savings in school. Understanding finances early can shape a person’s entire outlook on life. As a boy, I earned pocket change running errands, but one of my earliest "jobs" still makes me chuckle—my aunt would pay me one pice per grey hair I plucked from her head! If nothing else, that taught me the value of hard work and earning money —one grey hair at a time!

Skinny me - chubby me

Growing up in Allahabad as a scrawny thirteen-year-old was, in a word, tragic. I was thin—so thin that whenever we had visitors I was one of the topics discussed and that too in my presence - “Michael - Your arms like knitting needles, look at those shoulders – they’re like hangers. Your legs are so skinny” were the delightful descriptions showered upon me. It was humiliating and infuriating in equal measure. My mother and my aunt then decided that my skeletal existence was a problem they could solve. The plan? Gallons of milk and entire tins of ‘Bournvita’. When ‘Bournvita’ failed to work its magic, my aunt suggested ‘Horlicks’. Unfortunately, Horlicks tasted like chalk dissolved in misery. I protested, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. So, I did the next best thing—I began secretly disposing of my Horlicks. Some went down the drain, some got flung out of the window in teaspoon-sized projectiles. My cousins often reported me, but I fought them off manfully! Eventually, my mother and aunt realized I was a hopeless case and abandoned the mission. In hindsight, I now know why the milky diet failed—it was a well-documented fact that every milkman in Allahabad diluted their milk with water, so I was essentially drinking flavored liquid with a vague memory of milk. To add to my suffering, I was also force-fed spinach, vegetable stew, vegetable soup, and vegetables in all forms. I detested them. They were disposed of in the same way as the Bournvita—one minute on my plate, the next among the canna plants in the garden. We often ate dinner outside, which made my vegetable disposal tactics far easier and more effective. We had a dog as well- so that was extra help with unwanted food. But I was still desperate to grow—if not in width, then at least in height. Friends assured me that cycling with the seat raised to its highest position would make me taller. It seemed ridiculous, but I gave it a shot, wobbling dangerously around the neighborhood on an old ladies cycle with a raised seat. I was skinny as hell but intent and confident that I was looking good. And I wasn’t alone—there were many like me, gliding around on our absurdly high-seated cycles, convinced that every pedal stroke was adding inches to our height. Surprisingly, I did grow a bit. Not a towering giant, but at least I wasn’t a certified dwarf anymore. Then came the muscle obsession. Like most boys, I was convinced that bulging biceps and triceps and a thick neck were essential for impressing, well, everyone, especially the girls. Muscular seniors in school were living proof. When I saw ‘Bullworker’ ads featuring men with necks like oxen, I was sold. My neighbor, David Shepherd, had one lying around. I borrowed it, studied the manual like holy scripture, and embarked on an intense regimen. Early mornings saw me straining against the ‘Bullworker’, pulling and pushing its unforgiving resistance bands, convinced that pain equaled gain. I jogged with a neighbor, did push-ups, sit-ups, and everything else people advised. The muscles didn’t appear to be interested in making an appearance. Eating jaggery was supposed to help, so I chewed on it religiously. Rice and bananas? I stuffed myself. And yet, the weight stubbornly refused to appear. By the time I got married, I was still only 49 kg. Now, decades later, I find myself about 30 kg heavier, looking at fitness programs and diet plans, wondering how to shed the excess. Ironically, the same boy who once did everything to gain weight is now doing everything to lose it. Perhaps that’s just life—a cycle of wanting what we don’t have, chasing it endlessly, only to realize later that we may not have needed it after all.

Is free will actually free

 Does Free Will Truly Exist ?

It’s 4:45 am and the world lingers between night and dawn. Dubai is cold today - wintery crisp, carrying the faint promise of mornings that will soon turn warm. Outside, the darkness is beginning to soften, and a lone crow who we feed dares to break the silence ! 

I cradle a steaming cup of tea, its warmth seeping into my hands, my beautiful cat curled beside me in quiet companionship. I step out to bring in the morning newspaper.  The chill awakens me, and with it, my mind stirs. Suddenly dormant thoughts come rushing in, spilling over like ink on a blank page, demanding to be written.

I have thought of this before and have often wondered: Do we truly control our lives, or is everything laid out before us? Is there such a thing as fate, a path already carved, making our efforts irrelevant?

And then what about destiny?  It allows us to believe that whatever happens was meant to be. But if that’s true, then what is the point of effort, of struggle, of preparing ourselves for life? Can we challenge fate and shape a different future, or are we merely playing out a role we were always meant to fulfill? And who prepared this role for us in the first place?

I have seen people at close quarters blaming life for dealing them a bad hand. They fail, and instead of reflecting on their mistakes, they claim otherwise. I have also seen those who had wealth, thriving businesses, only to squander it through extravagance, lethargy, or poor decisions—yet they insist they weren’t ‘fated to succeed’.

I think back to times in my own life, when things didn’t go as planned, when there was no silver spoon or gilded platter - when circumstances felt unfair, but was it really fate? Or were there moments where I could have made a different choice, taken a different road? I still don’t know and probably never will. Was I dealt with a bad hand or was it the best hand ever?  I am more inclined to think it was the latter.

Like everyone else I have failed, and I have succeeded and had my fair share of both. I have had doors slammed in my face, only to have better ones open wide before me. Today I feel I am sufficiently successful in my profession. Was it fate that led me here, or was it the choices I made along the way? Thoughts like these often haunt me

Science suggests that many of our choices are influenced by forces beyond our control—our genetics and our upbringing?

At times, it does feel as if life has a momentum of its own, carrying us forward regardless of our intentions. Yet, in moments of decision, don’t we feel something deeper – a pull, or an urge to take control? I have felt it myself, the weight of a decision, the moment where one step forward could change everything. And I have seen others hesitate, trapped by the belief that their destiny is already written. I often counsel people to take that first step – however scarry it may seem at first – I did.

And then there’s luck. Why do some people always seem to win, even in games of chance, while others lose time and time again? Where does the phrase "gambling streak" fit in? I have known people who seem to have fortune smiling upon them, always at the right place at the right time, while others struggle endlessly despite their best efforts. If everything is predetermined, why does luck favor a few? Are they fated to be ‘lucky’?

Perhaps the truth lies somewhere in between.

Maybe fate sets the stage, but our choices determine how the story unfolds. Maybe luck exists, but what we do with it matters more. Or maybe, at this quiet hour, the answer is unknowable—and all that’s left is to keep moving forward, whether by fate or by will.

Grooming gone wild

 Grooming Gone Wild

For most of my life, my grooming routine has been refreshingly simple—get a haircut at an ordinary barber shop, a shave if I am feeling lazy, and maybe, if I’m feeling particularly indulgent, a head massage. That’s it- No fuss, no frills, just the bare essentials. But lately, I find myself being slowly dragged—kicking and screaming—into the ever-expanding world of men’s grooming. Now this is an industry worth investing in!

I see men around me with elaborate skincare routines to boot—cleansers, toners, moisturizers, serums, eye creams, exfoliators, and who knows what else. Some have dedicated morning and night routines, applying layer after careful layer like they’re restoring an ancient masterpiece. There are men getting manicures, pedicures, facials, and even eyebrow threading (when did that become a thing for men?). Some even discuss the benefits of Retinol and vitamin C serums – I am not even exactly sure what these do to the face. 

Mind you, they do look good, but I think I do too!

I, on the other hand, operate on a much simpler philosophy- if it’s a cream, it must be doing something worthwhile. I pick up whatever I find lying around on the dressing table —day cream, night cream, anti-aging cream (though I have no idea what it's supposed to prevent)—and slap it onto my face in a hurry. They all belong to my wife, but who cares. No circular motions, no expert application, and certainly no waiting for it to “absorb” into the skin for me. One time, I unknowingly used foot cream, and honestly, my face felt the same as it always does. There’s no science to my method, just a vague hope that a bit of moisture might be enough to keep my face from turning into an old leather wallet sometime soon.

While others dab, pat, and gently massage their faces with precision, I’m in and out of the bathroom in under a few minutes, wondering if I should be doing more or if I’m just the last man left who still believes a splash of cold water and ‘any cream’ in the morning, is a legitimate skincare routine.

While I barely give my face a second thought, the world of male grooming has exploded. There are charcoal masks, gold-infused serums, anti-aging potions, and a whole range of beard balms and hair-thickening solutions. Then there are the instruments—steamers to open pores, scrapers to clean skin, and rollers to stimulate collagen (whatever that means). Celebrities like David Beckham, Cristiano Ronaldo, and even The Rock have turned grooming into an art form. The result? Men now spend as much time (and money) on looking good as women.

Companies like L’Oréal Men, Nivea, and Gillette are making a fortune off this trend, selling everything from anti-fatigue moisturizers to an assortment of creams. And while I watch all of this unfold, I can’t help but wonder—am I the odd one out? Is this just the way of the future, or are men genuinely becoming more vain?

For now I remain an outsider with a simple routine if you can even call it that.

On being famous

 On being famous...

Once upon a time, being famous actually meant something. A person had to achieve something real—write a great book, discover a cure, climb a mountain, or lead a nation. Fame was a byproduct of excellence. Today? Fame is fickle, absurd, and often meaningless.

I think back to good old Allahabad, a city that once bred scholars, poets, and freedom fighters. Fame there was earned—by minds like Harivansh Rai Bachchan and Nehru, not by gimmicks. But even then, there were the other kinds—the self-proclaimed sadhus who "miraculously" produced gold coins from thin air, con men who promised hidden treasures to the gullible, and godmen who built empires off blind faith. Some of them have merely adapted to modern times, now selling spirituality online, building Instagram followings instead of ashrams.

And the madness isn’t just confined to religion. Look at today’s viral sensations—Dolly Chaiwala, whose hideous get-up and exaggerated antics have somehow made him famous, or Chandrika, the pav bhaji vendor who has turned street food into a circus act. Then there’s Lily Phillips, who pushes the limits of crassness just to stay relevant. What exactly are they famous for?

Compare this to true fame—the kind earned by legends like Sachin Tendulkar, who dedicated his life to mastering his craft, or M.S. Dhoni, who led with quiet determination and changed the face of Indian cricket. Amitabh Bachchan’s towering presence and relentless hard work made him the megastar he is, while Lata Mangeshkar’s divine voice, backed by years of discipline, cemented her place as the Nightingale of India. That was fame. Real fame. The kind that doesn’t fade with the next social media trend.

It makes me wonder: when did we start confusing attention with accomplishment? When did being loud, outrageous, or just plain ridiculous become enough to be celebrated? Back in the day, if you were famous, it was because you had actually done something remarkable. Now, it’s about being seen—no matter how absurd the reason.

And the worst part? Most of these so-called celebrities disappear as quickly as they arrive. The internet is full of fly-by-night influencers, scammers, and publicity seekers who rise like fireworks—only to burn out just as fast. 

Fame for the sake of fame is a hollow pursuit. At some point, the quest for recognition turns into a desperate act of absurdity. Maybe it’s time we stop chasing the spotlight and start focusing on what truly matters.

Work hard- save smart

 

Work hard- save smart

I’m not a financial expert, and I haven’t struck it rich—but over the years, life has taught me a few valuable lessons.

I often see young adults chasing instant wealth, hoping for overnight success, and believing they can bypass the hard work. Honestly, I smirk when I see it, but I don’t blame them. It’s easy to understand why.

Our parents believed in working hard, saving wisely, and thinking long-term. They understood the importance of showing up every day—without skipping work for frivolous reasons or making excuses to miss duty due to a minor ache. At times, you need to push through when things get tough at work and not give in to momentary discomfort. Today? That message feels outdated to many. The new generation wants instant gratification, expecting quick results without the patience for the long haul. Social media doesn’t help either. Everywhere you look, so-called financial experts claim they’ve found the secret to easy millions. Just click a few buttons, sit back, and watch your money grow. Tempting, right? But here’s the truth: most of those "experts" are better at selling dreams than building real wealth.

Yes, there are people today who make quick money—sometimes staggering amounts. But let’s be honest: those stories are the exception, not the rule. And what you don’t often hear about are the risks involved. Fast money is often fraught with danger. The same platforms that promise easy profits can wipe out entire fortunes overnight. I’ve seen people go from having more money than they ever imagined losing it all in the blink of an eye. Businesses collapse, fortunes vanish, and dreams shatter because people chased quick money without understanding the inherent risks.

Call me old-fashioned, but I believe in working hard and working smart. Anything worthwhile takes time—whether it’s building a career, running a business, or creating long-term wealth. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: simple, consistent investing from a young age works. Small, steady savings may seem boring, but they add up overtime.

I began working at a very young age, but it wasn’t until later in life that I realized the value of putting money aside. Being in the UAE for 24 years has helped me understand the power of financial discipline. It’s all about living simply—not trying to keep up with the Joneses and not splurging unnecessarily. The easy availability of credit cards and loans only makes things harder for those who lack self-control. It’s easy to fall into a cycle of spending beyond your means, but real financial security comes from knowing when to say no.

I won’t pretend to have all the answers, but I do know this: patience and discipline pay off. I’ve learned that true wealth isn’t just about how much you earn—it’s about how much you keep and how wisely you use it. I’ve done well for myself- being self-made is a satisfying thought, but I’ve also seen the rewards of living within my means and staying focused on long-term goals. It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it.

 

Beyond the first miracle

 BEYOND THE FIRST MIRACLE 

I’m sure you’d agree—

Being born is a miracle.

It’s the first one we experience,

And maybe the only one we take for granted.

From the start, life begins to unfold its journey

Parents and family guide us,

Offering love, patience, and a steady hand.

At the same time, the world isn’t always so kind—

It tests us, goads us, and forces us to grow.

School teaches more than facts and figures.

It’s where we learn patience—

In the quiet hours when no one’s watching.

Discipline—through repetition and practice.

And wisdom—from those

Who give their time and heart to shape us.

For me, shaping young lives through education

Became more than just a job.

It became a purpose—

A responsibility to guide, to care, and to lead.

Through every high and low,

Home has been my anchor—

The place I return to when things get tough

Life, in the end, is a canvas.

Every choice leaves a mark,

And every act of kindness adds color.

Let’s try and paint rainbows!

Being born—that’s the first miracle.

But what comes after?

That’s up to you .

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