Digital madness

 Digital Madness: When Sanity Takes a Holiday

Why do we keep watching videos we know are fake, ridiculous, and probably designed to melt our brains? These clips — you know the ones — are instantly recognizable as AI-generated, yet somehow wildly entertaining. Extra-large tigers pouncing on people. Midget lions leaping onto motorcycles and dragging riders into some digital abyss. Humans attempting “stunts” that start with a hint of the sublime and plunge straight into the absurd. Scenes so implausible they defy logic before your finger even reaches the “scroll” button. Reason clocked out early.

And the audio… oh, the audio. Screeches sharp enough to slice eardrums. Commentary that reads like it was typed by someone trapped in a basement with no oxygen. That hideous, hyena-like laughter — the kind that makes you want to toss your phone into the nearest river. These “creators,” if we can call them that, clearly have more time than sense. Any thinking human spots the fakeness instantly, yet the videos stride boldly across your feed, adding insult to injury with every pixel. Common sense kidnapped. Patience mildly electrocuted.

Each scroll is a fresh assault on sanity. Cars flipping in ways that would make physics file an official complaint. People surviving falls that would bury an elephant. Wild animals treating humans like props from a low-budget cartoon. You squint, groan, laugh, despair, and consider a digital detox — all in three seconds. Disgust, fascination, helpless laughter — pick your poison.

Sometimes, you pause to wonder: who are these people? What cosmic boredom birthed their creativity? And why, oh why, do they persist in making tigers look like stunt doubles for action movies no one asked for? Yet there you are, scrolling, eyes wide, half in disbelief, half in delight, knowing full well sanity has quietly taken an extended vacation. Humanity at its finest — absurd, relentless, and strangely compelling.

Congratulations, internet — welcome to the theatre of the absurd. Take a bow.

The Air Walk saga- My eight glorious paces of Ridiculousness

 The Air Walk Saga: My Eight Glorious Paces of Ridiculousness

Gravity, ageing knees, and a craze I had no business attempting.

Have you ever attempted something so ridiculous, so utterly absurd, that embarrassment was inevitable… and yet you couldn’t resist?

That, my friends, is how I found myself attempting the Air Walk — the mystical move where you drift in slow motion like a low-budget sci-fi hero, then — WHOOSH — break into a sprint as if someone yelled, “FINAL CALL FOR BOARDING!”

Naturally, I thought, How hard can it be?

First came mental rehearsal. In my head? Majestic. Weightless. Feather-in-the-breeze elegance. I even imagined a heroic soundtrack.

Then came sofa rehearsal. I sat there, mimicking the footwork. I looked like a confused pigeon. My cat glanced at me, then walked away, unimpressed.

Finally, bed rehearsal. Legs in the air, toes pointed, feeling oddly powerful. Thank goodness my wife and grandkids were downstairs — their expressions would have been legendary. I imagined their applause anyway, which made the effort feel cinematic.

Now, before you judge: I am old, but not yet ancient. I can walk unaided, jog a bit, even manage an energetic sprint. You get the drift. But extreme sporty stuff like AIR WALKING? That’s a different ball game. I had promised myself the days of reckless heroism were behind me — no more illusions of youthful bravado. Some things are best admired from a safe distance.

And yet, here I was. Every so often, a crazy thought strikes: Tonight — Air Walk. Adrenaline pumping. Silly, but thrilling. I slipped out quietly, like a secret agent on a ridiculous mission.

I slunk onto the little dead-end road near our place. Not a soul in sight. Perfect — my runway, my destiny.

The air was cool, carrying a gentle hush. A few stars shimmered above, shy against the city glow. Streetlights cast soft pools of light, and a wind rustled the leaves — as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

Then, like solemn critics in a front-row box, our two stray cats appeared. One perched on the curb, tail flicking, the other lounging in shadows. Their eyes followed me with unblinking attention — the only witnesses. My daughters and sons-in-law would have been spellbound. My wife? Possibly questioning all her life choices.

Deep breath… steady… and go.

Slow start. Check. Picked up the pace. Check. Limbs cooperating, Sketchers loyal, dignity mostly intact.

Then: the REAL DEAL.

Before you could say “Jackson” or “Elvis Presley,” I was AIR WALKING — eight glorious paces of pure ridiculousness. Muscles protesting, movements exaggerated, cats judging in solemn silence.

By the end… collapse in slow motion. Breathless. Gasping. Limbs flailing like a hero in a low-budget action scene. Muscles staging a full revolt. Utterly spent, yet undeniably legendary.

The only regret? I didn’t record it. No one will believe me. My colleagues might have muttered, “Is that really Mr Guzder?”

Calves tight. Knees sulking. Back threatening to resign.

And yet… for those eight glorious paces, I was weightless, ridiculous, and entirely, unapologetically alive. I was not just a senior citizen — I was a hero, a performer, a legend — if only in the solemn, judging eyes of two unimpressed cats.

The Air Walk is deceptive. It looks easy. It feels glorious. It humbles you. It mocks you. It leaves you questioning every life choice… while laughing at yourself harder than you have in years.

I may have promised myself no more illusions of bravado, no more reckless heroics. But for those eight absurd, glorious paces, I would do it all over again — slow motion, flailing, pride bruised, dignity optional… and loving every ridiculous second of it.

 

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Confidence: The Subtle Strength Behind Great Leadership

Confidence is the quiet engine behind every great leader — and it should be developed. A perfect example is the new UAE Student Council, a visionary initiative by UAE leadership. Sixteen students from diverse schools represent their peers, engage with authorities, and help shape education policy. Beyond giving students a voice, this council builds responsibility, critical thinking, and the confidence that forms the foundation of future leaders.

Confidence should be nurtured from an early age — a simple, everyday approach can make all the difference. Children grow more secure when they are allowed to try, make mistakes, and solve problems on their own — without constant checking or hovering. These little freedoms quietly build resilience and self-assurance, laying the foundation for confident future leaders. “We don’t raise children to succeed; we raise them to believe they can.”

Years ago, I worked with a colleague who reported directly to me, whose quiet confidence left a lasting impression. In meetings, I would suggest, and most people would nod politely. But he would gently suggest I might want to reconsider. No drama, no ego, just a calm nudge. The next morning, he’d smile warmly — almost apologetic for even speaking up — and ask whether I had thought about his perspective. His confidence wasn’t in proving himself right; it was in offering insight without insisting on it. He made it easy to think, not react — a rare gift in leadership.

Too often, we confuse confidence with ego or the need to always be right. True confidence shows up quietly — in the willingness to listen, rethink, and loosen our grip on our own ideas. Confident leaders smile easily, stay positive, make decisions decisively, and focus on solutions rather than blame — reflecting the solution-oriented spirit that drives the UAE and its people.

At its core, confidence is being secure enough not to feel threatened. Insecure leaders cling to every task, while confident leaders delegate boldly, trust others, and create space for new ideas to flourish. Empowering others multiplies impact. Over decades in education, I’ve seen colleagues who once sought reassurance grow into thoughtful leaders. Leadership done with confidence and generosity has a ripple effect across teams, schools, and communities.

Some of the UAE’s most admired leaders demonstrate how confidence and humility work together. They lead with conviction, moral clarity, and compassion — not to assert dominance, but to elevate others. Their example reminds us that leadership is not about being invincible; it’s about being secure enough to rethink, strong enough to lift others, and wise enough to know that the measure of leadership is how many you help rise to their full height.

Leadership is not about being the dominant voice. It’s about creating spaces where others feel safe to speak, grow, and lead themselves. The quiet, steady leaders — the ones who encourage, mentor, and trust — leave the deepest legacy.

 “Empowering others doesn’t diminish you — it multiplies their impact.”

So, the next time you think of confidence, keep it simple. Look past the bravado. Look for leaders who lift people up, make thinking easy, and turn potential into action. Confidence, once nurtured, is contagious — shaping not just individuals, but the society of tomorrow. 

In a nation that thrives on innovation, multicultural energy, and ambition, the leaders we cultivate today set the tone for a stronger, wiser, and more inclusive UAE

The year of the Family - Rediscovering the Art of Connection

 The Year of the Family: Rediscovering the Art of Connection

2026 has been designated as the UAE’s Year of the Family—a clear invitation to pause in our busy lives and rediscover what it means to truly see, listen, and connect with those closest to us. In a world overflowing with distractions—where devices constantly compete for our attention—we are often absorbed in screens, schedules, and concerns, leaving even those closest to us unnoticed.

Parents reading to children, cousins laughing together, grandparents guiding little hands in cooking or craft—these moments of presence are rare treasures, yet they strengthen bonds and shape family life. I remember my childhood as if it were yesterday, even though it was decades ago. Family meals were long, holidays and picnics brought everyone together, and parties were full of laughter. Board games or card games were evening rituals, complete with playful arguments over rules or points won and lost—charming memories that endure. Stories were shared, lessons learned, and values passed along naturally. Today, these traditions seem to be vanishing, making deliberate connection more important than ever.

“Will you pay attention? Can you focus for a moment? Are you truly listening?” Most of us heard such phrases countless times as children—at home, in school, even in church. Once, they were simple reminders to engage, and they immediately got us to refocus. Today, it feels almost revolutionary. Notifications ping, messages pile up, and social media never sleeps. If adults struggle to focus, how can children learn the skill? The irony is everywhere: at family dinners, birthday parties, or even clinic waiting rooms, people are so absorbed in devices that those beside them go unnoticed. Sometimes, even gestures of kindness carry the air of a facade, appearing sincere on the surface but lacking true engagement.

Teachers know this struggle well, repeating “pay attention” in tones ranging from playful to exasperated. Perhaps one day, it will appear in the dictionary as the phrase of the year—a reminder that attention is no longer trivial; it is essential. Teaching children, and reminding ourselves, to notice and engage fully is teaching them to live fully.

There is hope. In the UAE, the focus on family is deliberate and inspiring: the Year of the Family encourages households to slow down, reconnect, and celebrate bonds. Adults may miss a child’s proud grin or a sibling’s playful nudge—but small, deliberate acts of presence are powerful. We must make time—and make the effort. It is easy to say we are busy, yet where there is a will, there is a way. We owe this to our children and grandchildren. Around the world, families face similar challenges: they are pulled apart by distractions, distance, or competing demands. Choosing to pause, to be truly present in the moment, and to engage meaningfully is not just a personal act—it is a commitment to the continuity and strength of family bonds.

By putting down devices, noticing those around us, and listening with intent, we honour our families and reclaim the richness of life that too often slips by—because it is connection, not mere presence, that truly sustains us, strengthens our bonds, and shapes the world we live in.

The Leadership Secret Too Many Ignore: Kindness

 

The Leadership Secret Too Many Ignore: Kindness
How small acts of care can inspire, build trust, and leave a lasting legacy

When I was a schoolboy in Allahabad, three of my teachers gave extra math tuition to a few of us who could not afford it, asking for nothing in return, simply because they cared. Years later, a priest lent me a small but crucial sum to pursue my teacher training — another quiet act of generosity that made all the difference. These gestures left a mark far deeper than any prize, showing me how even the smallest acts of care can ripple through a life, shaping hope, character, and courage to keep moving forward.

Reflect for a moment. When was the last time someone showed you real kindness? When did you offer it yourself, without expecting anything in return? Even the simplest gesture can change the mood, the moment, or the course of a day.

As a working professional for over forty years, I’ve seen how kindness transforms people and communities — and how its absence quietly corrodes them. True leadership is not about asserting power. It is about listening, guiding, and inspiring through compassion. Arrogance, impatience, or harsh authority — even in clipped emails, curt words, or cold body language — erode trust, dampen morale, and alienate those around us. Leadership without kindness may secure short-term compliance, but it rarely earns loyalty, respect, or lasting influence.

Kindness appears in many forms: the words we speak or write, warmth in our tone, patience in our gestures, respect in our body language. It matters most when extended to those who may never repay us: the watchmen at the gate, lift operators, waiters, taxi drivers, or delivery riders who smooth our daily lives. These everyday, often invisible gestures reflect a society’s character, shaping culture and connection in ways we may never see.

Trust, goodwill, and the sense of community that help people work together grow when people, especially leaders, act with care. Ethics begins in recognising the humanity of others, even when they cannot reciprocate. Kindness is not optional; it is foundational to morality, leadership, and social cohesion.

Around the world, kindness is increasingly recognised as a driver of progress. Societies that cultivate empathy flourish. The UAE offers a striking example: respect, courtesy, and consideration are woven into daily life, creating communities where people feel valued. Leadership here, visible or subtle, often reflects a principle that care matters as much as competence.

In a world that is fast, divided, and distracted, kindness is not soft; it is essential. A thoughtful word, a sincere smile, a respectful gesture, or even a carefully considered message may seem small, but their impact is profound. Leaders who practise kindness do not weaken authority; they strengthen it. They balance accountability with empathy, firmness with humanity.

Imagine kindness as a public ethic — every classroom, office, and street corner carrying a quiet awareness that every person matters. That ambition need not exclude compassion. That innovation and ethics can go hand in hand. Workplaces would thrive. Communities would flourish. Trust, not fear, would define society.

Across continents and cultures, the lesson is clear: kindness is the most underrated leadership skill. In a world that often prizes speed, force, and results above all else, leading with care — in words, actions, gestures, and even brief messages — does more than achieve goals. It plants seeds of hope, nurtures hearts, and quietly shapes lives, leaving a legacy of warmth and humanity that outlives titles, accolades, and even time itself.

Take a moment to reflect, and let kindness guide your actions and nurture your capacity for care.

Nourished in Silence

 Nourished in Silence

Almost a year has passed since I planted you,

A slender sapling in this arid land.

No rain descends, yet I have nourished you,

Drop by patient drop, morning and evening.

I have watched your roots probe the thirsty soil,

Your tender leaves stretch slowly toward the sun,

Learning, with quiet resolve, to claim your place.

You braved the torrid summer, searing winds,

And now rise nine feet in measured triumph,

A living testament to care, patience, and endurance.

Sunlight dances upon your expanding leaves,

The desert breeze murmurs softly through your branches.

Sitting here this afternoon, I feel such joy,

Wondering how high your crown might rise, how deep your shade,

And even in harsh earth, hope endures,

For in steadfast tending, life takes root and flourishes.

A brilliant weekend until the bird arrived

 A Brilliant Weekend… Until the Bird Arrived

This morning felt different. It’s the weekend, the weather is finally cool and brilliant, and I woke up feeling unusually cheerful. The wife was still asleep, so I shuffled out — gracefully, for someone bordering on senile. Not quite Shakespeare’s “lean and slipper’d pantaloon” age, but certainly strolling in that direction.

I made myself a steaming cup of Lipton tea, my faithful favourite, and stepped into the garden like a man entering a private wellness retreat. I chose a comfortable chair and settled in, admiring the flowers and the trees we’d planted over the years. The air was so fresh it felt like I was inhaling premium-grade oxygen. Summer was finally behind us, and I told myself I should do this more often.

Yes, I missed the newspapers a bit, but I was already making plans for the day — sensible, age-appropriate plans. No, not ziplining across a canyon or hiking up a mountain or doing anything that involves signing a waiver. At my stage in life, excitement is gentler: giving my white shirts a proper wash, buying some plants, and maybe a few solar lights. Truly thrilling stuff.

And then came the moment of cosmic comedy.

A lone bird — one bird in the entire UAE, with billions of square metres of empty sky — decided to make me its chosen target. Why me? What was going through that tiny feathery mind? Did it hover above, weighing its options? “Palm tree? No. Wall? No. Wait… that man sipping tea with a cat at his feet — yes, him.”

My cat glanced up at me as if to say, “You do realise you’re sitting under the express lane?”

And then: plop — the bird deposited its droppings on me with sniper-level accuracy. Head and shoulder. A perfect strike.

Superstition insists this is good luck.

If so, I’m due for an extraordinary weekend — right after a long, soap-heavy shower.