Mi Padre, Mi Papa – Part 1.

As far as I am concerned, his passing was no longer a matter of sympathizing or for that matter empathizing with someone else who has lost a dear one. This is as close to home as it can get. This is Papa. Papa was special. He wasn’t just papa, he was my friend. My friend is gone, and he’s not coming back, ever….

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From Father to Son: An Open Letter.

So, the kid is at school, a new phase of his life, away from home, away from all things familiar, away from family, away from friends, new friends to be made, a life ahead of him. A life for him to shape the way he wants it.

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Startups: Not for Everyone – Part 4, Last Straw?

That was not to be, and instead, despite my considerable stints with considerable and financially sound national and international corporations, in seniormost roles, both in India and four continents, I would still continue to deal with businesses, with roles and assignments, that all had in some way, shape or form, “startup” as the central pivots of the roles that I played

Driving Across Europe to Slovakia

What was amazing was the way people looked at me. This was probably the very first time they had laid eyes on an Indian, or for that matter someone colored like me. I exaggerate not, when I say that whole villages came out just to get a look! I could now understand what white skinned people feel when they visit India, and everyone is just staring at them, nudging each other, and passing remarks.

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