We all eat too much

 NO MATTER THE FESTIVAL - WE ALL EAT TOO MUCH 

Have you ever noticed that no festival in human history has ended with the sentence:

“Good thing we cooked just the right amount.”

Irrespective of your country, family size, age, gender, time of day, mood, height, or weight—there is one universal festive law:

You will overeat.

You will feel bloated and uncomfortable.

You will complain about it.

You might take a digestive pill with deep sincerity.

And then—because restraint is seasonal—you will eat some more.

It happens everywhere: at your house, relatives’ houses, friends’ places, work parties, and even restaurants where “sharing” is optional.

> “Everyone just eats. Constantly. Enthusiastically. Without learning.”

And it’s not just Christmas.

It’s Eid, where the biryani has no finish line.

Diwali, where sweets appear from cupboards, drawers, and handbags.

Holi, where gujiyas ambush you between colours.

Thanksgiving, where gratitude is measured in helpings.

Lunar New Year, weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, housewarmings—

If humans are gathering, food will not just be present; it will be assertive.

Which brings us to the mystery:

Why do we cook so much… and then buy more?

Because festive logic shuts down the rational part of the brain.

We cook like an army is arriving.

Halfway through, panic sets in:

“What if it’s not enough?”

Not because people are hungry—but because running out of food would be a social crime.

> “Everything was lovely, but the food got over very fast.”

No one remembers festivals where there was just enough food. Everyone remembers:

“They didn’t even insist properly.”

So we hedge our dignity with extra dishes, emergency sweets, backup snacks, and one mysterious item no one planned but everyone insists is essential.

There is also hope involved:

Hope cousins will drop by.

Hope neighbours will “just come for five minutes.”

Hope people will suddenly eat less rice and more salad (they won’t).

From childhood to adulthood, we’ve been saying the same things:

> “I shouldn’t have eaten so much.”

“I’m done now.”

“Just one more bite.”

Maybe it’s culture. Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s unresolved emotional issues served with chutney.

Festivals teach one enduring truth:

Self-control is seasonal, digestion is optional, and leftovers are proof that hope—and second helpings—exist.

We eat. We groan. We pop a digestive pill. And then, inevitably… we eat again.

Because no matter the festival, overeating is the only tradition we never skip.

And then, like clockwork, most people’s New Year’s resolutions appear:

Exercise. Lose weight. Get fit.

Ah yes—the eternal cycle: eat, regret, resolve… repeat.

The Crucible of Leadership

 

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The Crucible of Leadership: Calm in the Fire

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort, but where he stands at times of challenge.”
—Martin Luther King Jr.

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When Leadership Is Tested

Think for a moment: when was the last time your leadership was truly tested—not by competence or brilliance, but by behaviour that was unreasonable, insecure, inexperienced, or unrelenting—and how did you respond when patience was stretched, judgment questioned, and composure demanded more than usual? Leadership is measured not by comfort, but by the steadiness, clarity, and maturity with which it is exercised under pressure.

True leadership shows itself under strain, among those whose habits, attitudes, or decisions clash with the standards we hold for ourselves and others. Anyone can lead when alignment is easy and competence consistent; the leadership that leaves a tangible mark arises only when skill is uneven, resistance persistent, and patience tested—especially when groupthink tempts teams to accept the easy consensus rather than confront the crux of the matter.

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Leading Through Resistance

Extremely early in my career, I faced an extremely challenging situation where a single, unprepared colleague could have derailed an entire project, and my first instinct was irritation, sharp words, and withdrawal. Over time, I realized these moments are not interruptions—they are the work itself.

Effective leadership in these situations requires:

1. Composure: Respond calmly, even when provoked.
2. Perspective: Use humour or reflection to diffuse tension and maintain clarity.
3. Boundaries: Never allow anyone to steer you off course or compel submission.

Standards are non-negotiable. Professionalism, preparation, clarity, and responsibility must guide every decision. When standards are violated, decisions fall short, or protocols ignored, frustration is plausible and inevitable. On one occasion, a critical deadline slipped, and my first instinct was sharp criticism; yet I realized leadership demanded patience and guidance rather than venting irritation—a humungous lesson in composure that shaped how I lead today. Patience may feel tantamount to endorsing mediocrity, but unchecked sharp reactions quietly erode influence, and lethargic leadership spreads, draining energy and initiative.

Unexamined irritation narrows perception, turning assessment into grievance and correction into reaction. Language sharpens unnecessarily, and empathy is dismissed as indulgent, even ridiculous; over time, rigidity can be mistaken for resolve, and control for strength. What remains may appear as leadership, but it no longer inspires, develops, or persuades.

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Authority, Mentorship, and Influence

Experienced leaders understand this instinctively: emotional discipline is not softness—it is command. Recognizing your triggers without succumbing to them allows for precision; expectations remain high, standards firm, and responses deliberate and effective. It is in this tension—between uncompromising standards and composure under pressure—that mentorship flourishes.

Mentors do not excuse insecurity, nor romanticize inexperience; they do not overlook unreasonable behaviour or feign tolerance for unpreparedness, and they refuse to ridicule, belittle, or govern through contempt. Growth occurs between correction and reflection, and people rarely develop when critique is delivered with heat rather than clarity.

In education, tone is never incidental—it is instructional. Students, staff, and colleagues learn as much from how authority is exercised as from what is said, and leaders who respond to challenge with composure and a touch of humour model reflection, restraint, maturity, and accountability—without compromising standards or diminishing expectation.

Authority, when secure, is quiet, announcing itself not through impatience or posture but through consistency, discernment, and unwavering principle; such leadership creates stability, allows difficult conversations without defensiveness, and ensures correction lands with precision—even when the challenges are humungous.

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Lessons in Composure

Difficult people are inevitable; what is optional is allowing them to make us smaller. Leadership is proven not by how we manage the agreeable, but by how we handle the unreasonable without rigidity, the insecure without condescension, and the inexperienced without derision. Leadership is revealed not in position, but in composure, influence, and restraint.

“Management is doing things right; leadership is doing the right things.”
—Peter Drucker

Leadership is tested—and defined—by how we respond to the unreasonable, the inexperienced, and the unrelenting, while maintaining maturity, perspective, and even a touch of humour.

Leadership is a continuous journey, and resilience is its measure.

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The power of humane leadership

 The Power of Humane Leadership: Touching Minds and Hearts

Over forty years in education—from classrooms to leadership roles—I have learned a simple truth: people flourish under leadership that empowers, inspires, and leaves a lasting mark. Leadership is not measured by title, authority, or control. It is measured by the environments we create, the confidence we inspire, and the potential we unlock. True leadership is humane, guided by empathy, respect, and care. This lesson has shaped my journey from teaching English Literature to leading schools and continues to guide every decision I make.

Teaching senior pupils revealed more about leadership than any title ever could. Guiding students through complex texts demanded patience, trust, and the discipline to step back and let their thinking take the lead. Leadership meant creating space—for interpretation, challenge, and bold intellectual risk. Allowing students to wrestle with ideas rather than providing every answer taught me that leadership succeeds when it nurtures growth rather than enforces compliance. Creativity and curiosity flourish where individuality is respected, and leadership thrives in conditions rooted in love and empathy.

Later, I led colleagues often older and more experienced than myself. Authority alone carried little weight. Leadership required credibility, humility, and respect, combined with careful listening, honoring experience, and earning trust through consistent action. True leaders are authentic: principled, consistent, and humane, walking the path as much as they talk. Trust is earned when words and actions align. Leadership is about inspiring belief—in people, in ideas, and in what can be achieved together. Leadership is most powerful when it fosters confidence and autonomy rather than dependence or fear. I have seen this humane leadership exemplified in the respected rulers of the UAE, whose vision, empathy, and integrity continue to inspire me deeply.

This principle remains vivid today. Former pupils, now thriving professionally across the globe, often reconnect. Some are leading teams, some shaping communities, and others pursuing creative or academic passions they once hesitated to explore. Our conversations are equal, yet tinged with quiet respect and enduring trust—a reminder that leadership rooted in care and conviction leaves footprints long after the classroom lights go out. No matter how far they have come professionally, they still greet me with the respect and warmth of a student to their teacher. They often share how encouragement, guidance, or simply the space to think independently shaped their confidence, their choices, and the leaders they have become. Leadership is measured not in immediate results but in the legacy it leaves: in the confidence instilled, the risks embraced, and the courage nurtured in others.

“Leadership is measured not in immediate results, but in the legacy it leaves.”

No one thrives under constant criticism or micromanagement. The strongest leaders know when to step forward and when to step back, when to guide and when to let others soar. Leadership provides support without smothering, direction without controlling, and challenge without diminishing confidence. Those who master this balance create environments where skill, ownership, and confidence grow naturally. Leadership is relational; it requires empathy, clarity, and humane judgment, responding thoughtfully while nurturing long-term growth.

Presence matters. The most effective leaders bring clarity, steadiness, and calm assurance. When they enter a space, the atmosphere shifts—thinking sharpens, collaboration deepens, and decisions strengthen. Organizations flourish when leadership develops others—not by directing every step but by spotting potential, encouraging growth, and creating meaningful opportunities. Great leaders do not need all the answers; they create conditions where responsibility is shared, trust is visible, and confidence thrives.

Leadership is often mistaken for authority, control, or the loudest voice in the room. In reality, it is simpler—and far more demanding. It is the daily work of shaping conditions where others succeed, listening with intent, acting with integrity, and making decisions that serve people and purpose rather than ego. Leadership is measured in the people we lift, the ideas we nurture, and the courage we ignite.

The leaders who make the deepest impact are shaped by empathy and experience, not privilege or ease. They have faced adversity, weathered uncertainty, and remember what it feels like to need encouragement rather than instruction. Compassionate, emotionally intelligent leaders listen before acting, treat others with dignity, and guide with insight as much as authority.

“The heart must lead—shaping purpose, trust, and connection—while the head guides every decision.”

True leadership lasts long after the leader has stepped aside, and it is measured not by the position one holds or the title one carries, but by the presence one leaves behind—the quiet influence that inspires, the steadfast belief that empowers, and the enduring legacy that shapes others. The most memorable leaders touch hearts as well as minds, listening with empathy, guiding with care, and acting with integrity, creating spaces where people feel seen, valued, and capable of more than they ever imagined. Leadership is remembered not for what one does alone, but for the confidence, courage, and humanity one awakens in others, and for the way it transforms ordinary moments into opportunities for growth, connection, and hope.

The Quiet Art of Negotiation

 

The Quiet Art of Negotiation: How Everyday Conversations Shape a Lifetime

A reflective look at how quiet, everyday exchanges shape our decisions, relationships, and sense of agency.

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Have you ever noticed that every interaction in life is really a negotiation? From toddlers refusing broccoli to teenagers lobbying for the latest gadgets, life is one continuous exercise in give-and-take — and we rarely pause to examine it.

I see this truth the moment I wake up. Chanel, my cat and a seasoned negotiator, leaps onto me with the confidence of a creature who owns the house and merely permits my presence in it. She wants breakfast, I want peace — and she always wins. Even before my eyes are open, I’m reminded that navigating outcomes is woven into everyday life.

After more than 40 years in education, I’ve negotiated nearly every aspect of school life: responsibilities, schedules, committee assignments, parent feedback, recruitment interviews, and countless student requests. Some conversations were effortless; others required the strategic patience of a chess match. These exchanges are not casual “soft skills” — they are subtle, continuous, and essential. They shape relationships, influence outcomes, and build trust. I often remind colleagues and students that mastery isn’t about winning; it’s about navigating life with respect, insight, and understanding.

Then there is spousal negotiation — the ultimate arena. Husbands and wives bargain constantly: where to eat, how to decorate, what to buy, where to holiday. But in most households, the final decision is rarely in doubt. Certain discussions call for a graceful bow, a quiet surrender, and the acceptance of defeat — whether it concerns dinner, gifts, or travel plans. Knowing when to compromise, when to stand firm, and when to smile and yield is a masterclass in domestic diplomacy.

Life is full of conversations, but not all serve the same purpose. Some are arguments aimed at proving a point; others are exchanges seeking the best possible outcome. True skill lies in balance, compromise, and mutual satisfaction. Effective communicators also read the unspoken: tone, posture, and gestures often reveal more than words.

Even toddlers are instinctive strategists. Ask them to eat vegetables, share a toy, or go to bed, and you’ll witness their techniques. They stall, distract, plead, and appeal to “fairness” with a solemnity that suggests deep injustice. Bedtime is a masterclass: one more story, another sip of water, promises to be “super good tomorrow” — all designed to delay the inevitable.

By the teenage years, negotiation becomes more sophisticated. Whether it’s a request for a new phone, extra pocket money, or a late-night outing, teenagers approach discussions with charm and strategy. Millennials relied on persistence; Gen Z adds evidence, statistics, and social media comparisons. Many young people today have refined a skill that adults are still learning.

I consider myself a seasoned negotiator — decades in education will do that — yet my grandkids, aged four and two, remind me daily that the fiercest negotiators come in the smallest sizes. Tiny, tireless, and fearless, they are masters of persuasion, distraction, and charm. It’s humbling, hilarious, and a reminder that we begin practising these skills almost from birth.

Families continue these dances daily: where to eat, who washes the dishes, whose turn it is to drive, which movie to watch, who gets the remote. Beyond the home, the stakes rise. Carpenters, electricians, tailors, tricksters, doctors, dealers, banks, and bureaucrats each have their own rules of engagement. Even fellow travellers negotiate their way through queues, boarding gates, and overhead-bin real estate.

The practice of bargaining is ancient. Early humans traded meat for fire; tribes bartered tools, land, marriages, peace, and power. Courts, banks, governments, airports — all run on structured conversations and calibrated outcomes.

Yet despite its importance, formal lessons in negotiation are rare. Most children learn by observing family dynamics, working through school projects, or taking on leadership roles. Some schools are now creating spaces where students can practise these skills intentionally. The goal isn’t to replace traditional subjects, but to complement them — helping young people advocate for themselves, resolve differences, and balance confidence with empathy.

From birth to death, and in every space in between, we exchange ideas, make compromises, and influence outcomes — often without noticing. Negotiation is more than a practical skill; it is a fundamental art that shapes every relationship, every decision, and ultimately, our ability to succeed. Mastering its nuances doesn’t just help us navigate life — it empowers us to shape it. Life rarely hands us victories; it hands us opportunities to negotiate them.

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The Timeless Language of Prayer

 

The Timeless Language of Prayer

From whispered hopes to simple words, prayer connects us to something beyond ourselves, across time and cultures.

Prayer has always been a quiet anchor in my life, a gentle pause that steadies the mind and calms the heart. From the first words I learned as a child—short night prayers that brought comfort and focus—it has guided me through fear, uncertainty, and moments of hope. It did not belong only to bedtime; it rose before journeys, in moments of worry, beside those who were unwell, and even before tests and exams. I often watched elders pray at home—voices soft, hands folded, eyes lowered—and I realized that prayer was less about ritual and more about connection, a way to gather oneself and reach beyond the immediate.

Across history, humans have turned to prayer whenever they faced uncertainty, hope, or gratitude. Traditions from all cultures reflect the same longing: to be guided, to be understood, to find strength. Even in moments of triumph, a sportsman may lift his eyes to the sky after scoring a goal in football, strike an ace in tennis, cross the finish line in a race, clear a high bar in pole vaulting, or complete a century in cricket. These quiet gestures of thanks show that prayer can be instinctive, natural, and deeply personal. It is a practice that transcends age, faith, and circumstance.

Prayer flows both through crowds and solitude. It rises in halls filled with voices and rests in quiet corners by rivers, on mountain paths, or beneath trees. It asks for no perfection, no special words, no formal permission. It belongs to anyone who opens their heart—those who are weary, hopeful, grateful, or searching. In every case, it is a language of intention, a way of acknowledging that life is larger than ourselves.

Kahlil Gibran once wrote, “Prayer is the hidden longing of the heart.” These words capture the essence of what I have always felt: that prayer is not merely words or ceremony, but an instinctive reaching toward something beyond ourselves—a quiet, private dialogue with hope, courage, and gratitude.

There is a saying I once heard: “When you pray, coincidences happen; when you do not, they do not.” Perhaps it is mystery, or perhaps it is the shift prayer brings within—the way it steadies the mind, calms fear, and sharpens focus. Prayer teaches us to look inward even as it reaches outward, connecting the personal to the universal, the individual to the larger flow of life.

Prayer is also found in the natural world. In the flow of rivers, the rustle of leaves, the soft light of dawn, or the pause before rain, there is a quiet language that asks nothing but attention. Nature itself offers moments that feel like prayer, inviting reflection, stillness, and gratitude.

Even music, poetry, and stories carry this instinct to reach beyond ourselves. Human voices have long turned longing into song, and gratitude into rhythm. These are prayers too—not shaped by doctrine, not bound by words or form, but by the deep human impulse to express hope, thanks, or need.

Ultimately, prayer is timeless and universal. It is the quiet breath before courage, the gentle hand that steadies us in fear, the invisible thread stitching one heart to another. It is the soft hush in the middle of a busy day, the warmth that settles quietly in the chest, the gentle pause that reminds us of all that is good, all that is larger than ourselves. And in that silent space between the seen and unseen, prayer blooms quietly, fully, and endlessly—reminding us, softly, that we are never alone.

 

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CHAOS ISN’T THE EXCEPTION, IT’S THE RULE

A world in perpetual turmoil — and the art of staying afloat

Think life is orderly? Think again. The illusion collapses the moment you open a newspaper, switch on the television, or scroll through social media. Conflicts smoulder across continents, markets wobble, storms arrive without warning, and even the closest relationships reveal fragile fault lines under quiet pressure.

The headlines are appalling, the disruption horrific — and “alarming” is an understatement. Ceasefires seem plausible, treaties look inevitable, and diplomatic handshakes fill our screens. Then, almost inevitably, tensions flare again, old disputes reignite, and familiar fault lines crack open. We are dragged back to the uncomfortable truth: chaos is not an occasional visitor - It is the architecture of the modern world. Permanent solutions are the comforting illusions we cling to.

Chaos does not live only in capitals or newsrooms. It sits quietly in our homes, in our minds, in strained silences, whispered resentments, and unspoken expectations. Family ties strain over money, pride, inheritance, and ambition. Friendships buckle; marriages wobble; trust is fragile, and often, it is broken. Societies mirror the same pattern- promises rise, optimism surges, and then falters again. Yet the question persists: are we truly the rational animals we claim to be, or creatures still guided by fear, impulse, and survival instinct?

Television and social media do more than report disorder; they amplify it. They compress distance and time until every crisis feels immediate, personal, and overwhelming. Panic spreads faster than verification and outrage becomes habit. Reason often arrives late, if at all, leaving the world in what feels like a permanent state of tension.

Even religion, imagined as a sanctuary of calm, is not immune. Movements founded on unity stumble over power struggles, ego, and interpretation. Institutions built to heal sometimes divide. Faith, for all its beauty, has always carried seeds of human conflict.

This is not about right or wrong- It is not about blame or justice-:It is about rhythm. History rarely moves in straight lines. Peace appears, then pauses, retreats, and eventually returns. Order forms, it cracks and then reforms. The pattern repeats, stubborn and relentless. And one truth emerges:

“CHAOS ISN’T THE EXCEPTION — IT’S THE RULE.”

We can sit with fingers and toes crossed, hoping the storm will pass. We can tell ourselves relief is just one election, one agreement, or one miracle away, but hope alone is not a strategy. Experience shows the storm is not passing through; it is home , and if that feels bleak- there is always one enduring human habit to fall back on: blame. When all else fails, we can always blame Santa.

So how do we live in this world? 

Not by waiting for perfection, but by learning to manage imperfection. Strength lies in adaptation, and calm grows from discipline. We focus on what we can influence, and release what we cannot. We build resilience in ourselves, our habits, and our relationships.

And here is the uplifting truth: within the turbulence, life is still rich, full of connection, joy, love, and purpose. We cannot stop the storm, but we can stand firm, adapt, and find learn to live honest lives.

“The storm may rage, but human resilience shines—we keep moving, adapt, and find our own calm amid the chaos.”

Expecting chaos to disappear is like asking the ocean to stand still. It will not. But that does not mean we are powerless- That is not despair-:That is clarity. 

And in that clarity lies courage: the courage to live fully, to cherish moments of calm, and to thrive despite the storm

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EVERYONE HAS A STORY
Moments That Mattered, Echoes You Didn’t Hear

Life writes its stories in the moments we least expect—in the twists, the falls, the quiet turns that shape who we are, leaving imprints that are nearly invisible at first, only revealing themselves when we pause, when we look back.

As 2025 winds down, take a moment and ask yourself—did this year lift you to dizzying highs, drag you through unseen lows, or drift quietly, leaving subtle echoes behind? Was it harsh, gentle, or somewhere in between?

Pause-  Reflect - Wonder.

Take a few moments to recall the laughter that buoyed you, the challenges that weighed you down, the love that filled your heart ,  the victories that passed unnoticed, and the tears no one saw, for every life carries peaks and valleys, hidden struggles, fleeting triumphs—and every story matters.

For me, this year has been quietly hopeful, filled with small victories, fleeting joys, a deeper sense of fulfillment in work, richer connections with loved ones, and vivid reminders of God’s presence, guiding me through light and shadow, and filling each moment with quiet gratitude.

Isn’t that the story of most of us—different paths, yet the same journey: fragile, fleeting, miraculous, a passage of joys, lessons, and quiet revelations?

Life traces its graph—peaks of joy that spark like sunlight on water, stretches of calm that hum beneath the surface, sudden plunges, moments when hope seems almost invisible—and yet, just when the world feels overbearing , tight and confining, we turn a corner and life surprises us.

Some journeyed the bustling highways, others wandered the quiet roads less traveled; some walked with the influential, others with the humble- and yes, some of us navigated it all like rush-hour traffic—unexpected jams, sudden detours, and the occasional “how did I even get here?”

Every step, every encounter wove its thread into the story of our year, and even the darkest valleys carried the seeds of new beginnings.

Some were broken, some reborn -  Some bore losses too heavy for words, while others were struck by fortune, sudden and brilliant as lightning. Weddings opened doors, deaths closed worlds, new life arrived—tiny, miraculous—reminding us that hope endures. Friendships were forged in laughter and struggle, love blossomed in quiet corners, and life, in its subtle arithmetic, added, subtracted, multiplied, and divided—leaving imprints we may only recognize later. Yet through it all, many carried on—bravely, quietly, unseen—because life demands it.

Life is remarkable, full of small miracles and countless reasons for gratitude, though it could always be harder. And yet, we often rush past the blessings we already hold, restless for more, forgetting to marvel at the extraordinary gift of simply being alive.

In these final days, the year’s imprint is visible in everyone we meet. Families gather, friends reach out, communities carry both joy and grief. Some feel the absence of those who have left, while others celebrate beginnings that transform lives. Behind every gaze is a hidden story, a life etched with beauty and pain, resilience and wonder—a story we will never wholly know.

If you notice carefully- there is a quiet, unhurried rhythm in the turning of the year. The past hums softly, the future glows faintly, the present grows tender, ready for reflection. It reminds us to look at one another with deeper compassion, to see the storms no one speaks of, the triumphs left uncelebrated. Empathy, understanding, quiet connection—these are among the most profound gifts we can give and receive.

As this year folds into memory and another rises on the horizon, may we carry gentleness, patience, and room for the untold stories around us.