Another fire. Another family shattered. Another headline flashes across our screens for a day or two before it disappears into the endless cycle of news. As northern India battles a brutal summer, reports of devastating fires continue to emerge with alarming frequency. Delhi, unfortunately, remains one of the most recurring names in these tragedies. An air conditioner explodes. A refrigerator compressor fails. A short circuit sparks in the dead of night. Within minutes, flames consume homes, livelihoods, and sometimes entire families. And yet, after the outrage fades, we return to the same dangerous comfort zone: "Chalta Hai." Have you ever walked through areas like Paharganj, Karol Bagh, or even affluent neighbourhoods such as South Delhi and Malviya Nagar and truly looked around? Look up. See the tangled maze of electrical wires hanging overhead like a ticking time bomb. Notice buildings squeezed into impossibly narrow lanes. Homes separated by barely a couple of feet....

For many people today, work is something to endure until the weekend. That thought stayed with me after countless conversations with professionals across generations. The words were remarkably similar: pressure, burnout, long hours, endless workload. It made me wonder: why had I never felt that way? Even today, my work involves constant travel, high-stakes meetings, late nights, and more meals away from home than I'd like. Age is no longer on my side, yet I've never counted the days to Friday. The answer, I realized, wasn't in the work. It was in the life built around it. Spending time with young professionals on corporate campuses, I noticed that much of their stress wasn't imposed by employers. It came from expectations they had quietly set for themselves. A bigger home. Two premium cars. International vacations. The latest gadgets. Weekend indulgences. A lifestyle that looked successful, often funded by tomorrow's income. Somewhere along the way...

The other day, I found myself watching Pretty Woman once again. Like many others, I keep returning to that seemingly simple story. Every viewing leaves me with something new. This time, however, it wasn’t Julia Roberts who caught my attention, but Richard Gere’s quiet humanity beneath the polished exterior of a cold corporate raider. So, I rewound a particular dinner-table scene. Most people remember it for the escargot flying across the room. But what fascinated me was something deeper: the complicated choreography of dining etiquette. As a part-time grooming consultant, I’m often asked why people must learn to eat “like the Englishman.” Personally, I think the world could just as easily embrace chopsticks or return happily to eating hot parathas with fingers. Yet, formal etiquette continues to dominate professional spaces. And as I travel across cities conducting workshops, I encounter endless shades of dining behaviour. Somewhere, there is always that faint suggestion that dinner i...