Image Source For the longest time, I scoffed at anything that smelled remotely spiritual. The idea of praying, meditating, or seeking a “higher self” felt like escapism to me; a crutch for people afraid to face the blunt, chaotic, meaningless void that life often throws at us. As an agnostic, I don’t believe in God in the traditional sense, but I do believe in Karma - a quiet force that balances our actions with unseen consequences. I find comfort in the idea that a higher power, not defined by religion, watches over us with silent wisdom. For me, being agnostic means choosing faith in energy, cause and effect, and the mystery of the universe rather than doctrine. I’ve leaned toward Nihilism most of my adult life, not in a destructive way, but more in the “nothing really matters” sense. It was oddly comforting, even liberating. If life has no intrinsic meaning, I’m free to create my own, or none at all. That gave me peace. Until, slowly, it didn’t.
Image Source In my teens, F.R.I.E.N.D.S was more than a television show. It was a warm, familiar escape that aired like clockwork on cable (remember Star World and Zee Cafe?), the background hum to my after-school evenings. I didn’t just watch it - I inhaled it. The theme song was practically a mantra, and the six characters felt like companions who made adulthood seem whimsical and liberating. For a teenager growing up in India, F.R.I.E.N.D.S was my first real peek into Western television, a world where twenty-somethings lived in quirky apartments, drank endless coffee, and navigated love and life with a certain lightness that was irresistible. After Sidney Sheldon's books, this is what opened my mind to the "real" world.