Casual and serious thoughts / ಹಗುರ ಗಂಭೀರ ಆಲೋಚನೆಗಳು

  ತಿಳಿಯದ ತಿಳಿಸಿ ಪೇಳ್ದವನೇನ್ಗುರುವು? ತಿಳಿದಿಲ್ಲಕೆ ತಿಳಿದಿಲ್ಲವೆಂಬುದು ತಾನರಿಯೆ। ಕೇಳ್ದವಗೆ ಸರಿಯುತ್ತರ ಕೊಟ್ಟವನೇನ್‌ ಗುರುವೆ? ಸರಿಯುತ್ತರ ಹುಡುಕಿಸುವವ ತಾ ಗುರುವು ಸರಿಯೆ॥ ತಿಳಿದಿಲ್ಲದವ ತಿಳಿವಿಲ್ಲವೆಂತಿಳಿಯದವ ತಿಳಿಹೇಳೆ ಗೋರ್ಕಲ್ಲ ಮೇಲ್ಮಳೆ ಸುರಿದಂತೆ। ತಿಳಿದಿಲ್ಲದವ ತಾ ತಿಳಿದಿಲ್ಲೆಂದರಿತು ಕೇಳೆ ತಿಳಿ ಹೇಳೆ ಸಾರ್ಥಕವು ತಿಳಿಯದವಗೆ॥ ತಿಳಿದು ತಿಳಿಯದಂತೆ ನಿದ್ರಿಸಿದವಗೆ ಎಬ್ಬಿಸಿ ತಿಳಿಯಾಗಿಸುವವ ಗುರುವು। ತಿಳಿದು ತಿಳಿದಿರುವುದನರಿತವಗೆ ಶರಣು ಅವನೆ ನಿಜದಿ ಗುರುವು ತಿಳಿಯೊ ಜಾಣ॥

An AI generated image. Can I claim I was brought up in impoverished conditions?  Yes… and no. No—because I’ve seen people who came from far more difficult financial situations. Yes—because we were certainly not middle class. At best, we called ourselves lower middle class, and even that felt aspirational at times. 🌾   Before 1969 – The Early Days When our father was with us, we lived in Hutti Gold Mines, near Raichur in North Karnataka. My brother and I were privileged enough to study at Bishop Cotton Boys’ School in Bangalore—an elite boarding institution - a convent school. But life changed overnight with his untimely death. My mother, fiercely independent and resilient, chose to raise her two boys without relying on anyone, even though it meant facing economic hardship. Our maternal uncles helped her plan finances wisely, guiding her toward frugality and self-reliance. Thus began our new life. 🏠   1969–1975 – A New Life Begins After a brief stay at my uncle’s home, ...

  An AI generated image (No, that’s not me) I waited for the dust to settle before writing this. There’s been a lot of debate lately about how many hours one should work. The former Chairman and founder of Infosys proposed 70 hours. Then, the L&T Chairman (in what felt like an auction bid) raised the bar to 90 — and half-jokingly quipped, “What do you do sitting at home? How long can you stare at your wife? Come on, get to the office and start working!” That comment triggered quite a storm — many opposed it, a few supported it. I’m not here to take sides. But after 40 years in the professional world, I thought I’d share my own perspective. Some may see it as Ultracrepidarian advice — but I’ll venture out anyway. My First Lesson in the Corporate World Let’s rewind to 1986. I was working as an Inspection Foreman at MICO (a Bosch company). Being on the shop floor, our operations ran in three shifts. I was 24, eager to prove myself, and trying to juggle multiple things — l...

 An AI generated image From Baldness to Belly – The Saga Continues After publishing my blog   "Being Bald" , some kind souls privately pointed out that I may have another “topic” to explore—my EPND belly. Yes, Ever Pregnant, No Delivery belly.  That comment was the spark I needed to pen this down. Visit to the Doctor A recent visit to my family doctor prompted a stern suggestion: “Check your weight.” Delivered like a command, it was clearly an attempt to nudge me into guilt. Obediently (and reluctantly), I stepped onto what I suspect is a rigged weighing scale—it always shows a couple of kilos more than what I actually weigh (or so I believe). To my surprise—and relief—it showed a few kilos less than my previous visit (which he meticulously records). I proudly announced, “I’ve reduced!” Unfazed, he shook his head and said, “Yene aadru nimma hotte yako hogthaa illa” (Whatever it is, your tummy remains the same). No, he wasn’t body-shaming me—he was simply stating a...