horizontaly parked in diagonal world

 It was just another day in my IIM classroom—or so I thought. Accounting lectures usually had a reputation for being dry, and I had a tendency to get a little… distracted. That day, my behavior apparently crossed a line. To my shock, the professor—a lady with a sharp eye for detail—asked me to leave the classroom. Leave. The whole class went silent for a moment. Being asked out of an IIM classroom is almost unheard of. Postgraduate students are supposed to be adults, responsible for their own learning, and professors generally focus more on teaching than disciplining. But here I was, sitting outside the door, realizing this was serious. The punishment didn’t end there. I was given a case study to solve—something that felt more like a challenge than an assignment. That evening, I was asked to meet her. She didn’t scold me loudly, she didn’t raise her voice—but her disappointment was clear. Her subtle disapproval hit harder than any lecture could. It made me reflect: Was I really t...

Five years isn’t a long time on paper. But in terms of inner shifts? It’s an entire era. If I could go back and sit with the version of me from 2019-2020, I wouldn’t give him advice on business plans, gym routines, or market trends. I’d talk about himself . About what he was ignoring, resisting, or misunderstanding about his own wiring. Here’s what I wish I truly understood about myself back then: 1. I’m Not “Falling Behind” — My Timeline is Mine Back then, I used to believe success had a ticking clock. If a venture failed, if a relationship didn’t progress, if others seemed “ahead” — it felt like personal failure. But life isn’t a race. It’s not even a straight line. Some people sprint, some wander, some restart from zero multiple times. What I’ve learned? My pace is not slow. It’s deliberate. And that’s okay. 2. I Crave Depth, Not Noise While others chased fast wins, trends, or shallow validation, I often found myself overthinking — about people, decisions, even s...

There was a time when heartbreak ended with silence. A letter never replied to. A phone call left unanswered. A physical presence gone. The pain was sharp — but final. Now, heartbreak lingers in pixels . It lives in “Seen 4:32 PM.” In profile pictures that still smile. In Spotify playlists updated with cryptic intent. In stories watched, but texts ignored. We are breaking up while still being watched. We grieve under surveillance — mutual, silent, haunting. 👻 The New Ghosts The modern ghost doesn’t vanish — they hover . They check your story. They like your post a week later. They follow your every move without ever speaking again. You’re not blocked. You’re not chosen. You exist in their peripheral awareness — and they in yours. This isn’t closure. It’s exposure. 🧠 Our Brains Aren’t Wired for “Seen” Evolution didn’t prepare us for this kind of ambiguity. What does it mean? Were they busy? Were they hurt? Was it on purpose? We spiral because the loop...