LOL: Life Of Leo

AI Generated Image There’s a quiet, beautiful kind of heroism in those who refill the coffee pot. Or the kaapi filter, for us South Indians. Or the Moka pot, for fancy coffee enthusiasts. Although the title suggests this, trust me, this post is not about coffee. It is about people. You know the type, those rare angels who, upon taking the last sip, pause, rinse, and refill so the next caffeine-deprived soul doesn’t suffer the heartbreak of an empty pot. It seems small, almost trivial, but to me, it’s a gesture that represents something bigger: the philosophy of “Make it easy for the next person”, something I firmly believe in. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately - how the people I admire most, both in my life and in the world, are the ones who turn around and smooth the road for the person behind them, instead of walking away like it’s not their problem.

While I was in Japan this April, everything seemed to align perfectly - the weather, the blossoms, the rhythm of the days. For two full weeks, we traveled across cities and countryside, and the skies remained consistently clear and bright. Ironically, on the one day we had set aside to visit Mount Fuji, the weather turned. It rained steadily, and thick clouds rolled in, obscuring every viewpoint where Fujisan is usually seen in all her glory.

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.

The road bends sharp, the sky turns grey Just when hope begins to sway A whisper in the soul declares You’re made to walk through storms this way

Image Source Growing up, I thought that the only mode men came in was "angry". My father and uncles were perpetually unhappy and always ready to blow their fuses. We had to walk on eggshells around them with a constant fear of taking a misstep. My poor dog bore the brunt of my father's frustrations back then. As much as it was a toxic environment to grow up in, I now think that all they needed was a space to express their emotions. Clearly, they weren't able to come to terms with the pressures of taking care of the family. I strongly believe that the most burdened being on the planet is a middle-class Indian male who is expected to singlehandedly support his family, while keeping his ego and pride in check. My mother was the primary breadwinner of our family; this should have minimized my father's frustrations, but it only seemed to multiply it. Taunts by relativities didn't help either. A man is expected to do what he should, after all.

Image Source A recent article stirred the plastic pot by claiming that career-oriented Barbies wear flats while fashion-focused Barbies cling to heels. As if a woman’s ambition could be measured by her choice in footwear. The Barbie movie, for all its pink-splashed visual grandeur and viral soundbites, only amplified this bizarre binary. Do you recall the ending where she is seen in Birkenstocks instead of heels? Going to a OB-GYN of all places. I think the intention was to show that she's a normal woman now. Well, what if I personally like to visit my OB-GYN in heels? Or boots? Or whatever I'm wearing during the course of the day where I have to do a million things and visit the doctor. Instead of elevating the dialogue around femininity and freedom, the movie reduced it to stereotypes draped in designer clothes and pop feminism.  Once a doll meant to inspire imaginative play, Barbie has now become a battleground for social commentary; and not always in the most productive wa...

Image Source 22nd April 2025 - My partner and I were holidaying in Tokyo, drowning ourselves in copious amounts of delicious ramen and strolling through cherry blossom lined streets having the silliest but most interesting conversations. After a brilliant day, when we reached our hotel to rest, we saw the news notification. Nothing felt the same again. At this point, it is hard to not take things personally.

Image Source I consider myself a fairly well-informed person, even though I no longer access social media. I read the news, I keep up with books, and I like to think I understand the world around me. But watching Adolescence on Netflix felt like being hit by a tidal wave of something I had never truly grasped before. While the whole world is talking about the brilliance of this show, with each episode being shot in a single take, it exposed me to a word I had never encountered: ' incel .' I had no idea about this subculture of young men who blame women for their loneliness and frustrations. To such an extent where they create groups and have meet-ups to discuss and trash women. Apparently, this culture is catching up in India as well. There was an article in last Sunday's paper about this. As I watched Jamie, the protagonist, slip deeper into this world, I felt a growing sense of horror. How could such a community exist? How could something so dangerous and hateful be shap...