I don’t know what it is about me and ankles, but somehow they keep showing up in the worst ways. This time? I managed to sprain my ankle a day before a long-awaited cousins’ trip. How? I went to the gym (yes, on the very last day before leaving — because obviously I had to get that one final pump in to look good in the photos, right?). Finished my usual set. Then thought, “Let’s do a few pull-ups as a farewell to the bar.” That was fine. It was the getting down that wasn’t. I stepped off the stool and twisted my left ankle with all the elegance. So damn elegant. Cool, cool. By now, I’ve injured my ankles quite a few times over the past 3–4 years. And every time, it feels like: “Abhi toh wapas chalna seekh hi raha tha yaar.” They say life brings you full circle — mine just keeps bringing me back to Chavan Hospital. But ankle or not, we had plans. A lot of money was spent, and more importantly, I’d already emotionally committed to this trip. So with a crepe bandage wrapped tight, I headed off to Uttarakhand with my cousins — a trip we’d hyped up for months.

Uttarakhand Diaries

We flew into Delhi, hopped into a traveller, and for the first few hours — I’ll admit — the vibe was strong. Antakshari in full force, my cousins screaming wrong lyrics with full confidence, heck, we even sang Ganpati Aartis and nursery rhymes when we were stuck in traffic (we have a two-year-old niece who’s a die-hard Cocomelon fan). It was that kind of chaos that oddly feels like love. But the moment we reached Rishikesh, something felt... off. Maybe it was the overcrowded streets, the relentless honking, or the sheer number of “adventure sport” banners slapped across every wall — but it wasn’t the peaceful, river-side spiritual haven I had imagined. I don’t know if it’s a North Indian thing, but the horn obsession genuinely ruined the vibe. Like… who hurt you bro? Why is your hand glued to the horn? I kept thinking, “Weren’t we supposed to find some quiet here?”

I was still struggling to walk a lot initially, but calming my feet in cold Ganga water felt amazing. But I still questioned everything up until we performed the Ganga Aarti the next day at Triveni Ghat. That moment brought a pause — finally. It felt... real. A kind of collective silence that drowned out the rest of the noise. But apart from that, Rishikesh didn’t click. It felt like a long reel with no skip button. For the first time during the trip, I found myself thinking — why did we even plan this?

Thankfully, we moved on. Jim Corbett completely changed the tone. We checked into a beautiful resort, surrounded by trees and actual silence — not just those “No Horn” signs that nobody listens to.This place breathed. Fresh air. Open skies. No urgency. We did our safari the next morning — didn’t spot a tiger (why, God, why?), but had to make peace with tiger claw marks. Saw a bunch of deer, elephants, jackals, and a snake from a distance. And somehow, waking up early, standing in an open jeep with that cold morning wind hitting your face, felt like reconnecting with something true to nature.

Also, my hair was hairing that day. Got some great pics. Toit. The rest of the morning was spent chilling in the pool, casual badminton the previous night, random cousin gossip, and actual laughter.I think that’s when the trip finally started making sense.

Ranikhet was hands down my favourite. The drive alone was enough to make you put your phone down and just stare out the window while Ilahi played in the background. Yes — full Ranbir Kapoor main character energy. Everything about Ranikhet felt slow and beautiful. The air. The winding pine-lined roads. The old-school wooden houses. That one night when the sky was ridiculously clear — and the yellow-tinted moon looked straight out of a film (sight to behold). No one was rushing to speak. That silence? Rare. Felt like a place where even overthinking pauses to breathe. The next morning we did some light sightseeing — Chaubatia Gardens, views of Bhalu Dam. We even did a 6km trek through the forest, walking under misty rain and tall pine trees. Tiring, but fulfilling. It felt like I’d finally done what I came here to do — just be in the mountains. No filters. No noise. Just walking, breathing. Every corner of that town felt like it was designed by someone who understood aesthetics and mental peace. A photographer’s dream really.

We wrapped up the trip in Nainital, and while it was definitely more crowded than Ranikhet, there was still a sense of calm. Our stay was again lovely — tucked on a hillside, rain-washed views, and chai in the balcony. The food was amazing.And well, we did witness a couple of loud fights at the resort — classic Delhi-Haryana energy (no hate, just... observations). Constant bickering with staff, borderline arrogance — not a great look. Didn’t sit right. But the people of Uttarakhand? Genuinely beautiful. Inside and out. That Pahadi calm is something else, I was aware of this, yet it felt so nice to experience it after a long time. But speaking of Nainital, we did the classic Mall Road stroll, boating, long conversations, and just stared at the lake for hours. Didn’t check the time. Didn’t want to. Also we did Mukteshwar mandir and Bhimtal the next day, awesome experience again. It wasn’t perfect. But it was something. A much-needed pause. A reminder that sometimes you don’t need a life-changing trip — just a few stolen moments that make you feel less heavy.

We landed back in Pune after 7 days — tired, not limping now — but content. So many memories. So many laughs. And for once, great pictures of myself (which never happens because I’m usually the one holding the camera, right?). Honestly? Felt proud of my cousins for pulling this off. One of them had to miss it (sigh), but hopefully more trips await us. And no matter what, it always feels good to say —“Duniya ghoom ke aao, par ghar toh ghar hota hai.”

Main Character Syndrome

When I got back from the trip, I thought I’d enter my main character arc — fresh out of the mountains, rejuvenated, full of ideas, ready to kill it at work. A productivity beast. Instead, Day 1? I didn’t even get out of bed. Classic. Took the day off before even earning it. Day 2? I showed up. Kinda. Then the rains hit and Pune basically said, “Bro, stay home.” And I listened. The truth is, getting back into routine takes time. I slowly got back to working, shipping things, doing what needed to be done. But the grand post-trip epiphany I was secretly hoping for? That whole “I’ll come back transformed” thing? Didn’t really happen. Trips don’t rewrite your personality. They just nudge it gently and hand you a few new photos. But there’s been one feeling that didn’t wait to settle in — a recurring, exhausting thought:“I’m not good enough.”

It’s not new. It’s been around for years now. Probably born somewhere between countless rejections, missed chances, and the kind of defeats that sting even when you give everything you’ve got. Losses so unbearable that it makes you question how much is enough? How much more could have I given? This month, that voice got louder. Hungrier. More convincing. I know I’m harsh on myself. I’ve written about this before. I’ve tried to unlearn it.

But this version of me — the one constantly scanning for flaws, always comparing, always convincing himself he’s falling short — sticks around like background noise. Lately, that noise has been the loudest during metro rides.

There’s something about those glass windows. On the trip, I was peeking out of valleys, soaking in cloud-kissed hills, pretending to be Ranbir Kapoor in a coming-of-age montage. Back here, I’m still peeking out of windows. Except now it’s the metro. And instead of hills, I see darkness outside and get a dude aggressively chewing gum inside the metro. Still, the real noise is within me. Earphones in. Shuffle on. And then boom — “Kyun Main Jagoon” comes on. And it hits.

Raahen aisee jinaki manzil hee nahin Dundho muje ab main rahata hoon vaheen Dil hai kaheen aur dhadakan hai kaheen Saansen hain magar kyun jinda main nahin…

And suddenly, it’s blurry eyes on the glass. The song fades out but the spiral doesn’t. Each station becomes a checkpoint in a mental marathon I never signed up for:

• Kalyani Nagar: “Maybe I’m not as smart as I thought.”
• District Court: “Why can’t I work like them? Everyone’s building such great stuff while I take so much to get things rightly done.”
• Nashik Phata: “Maybe I’m just not good enough — that’s why people leave, they don’t stay.”
• Pimpri: “What if this version of me — the one I thought was doing okay — actually isn’t?”

And then the doors open, I step out, and nothing’s changed. Still no answers. Just me and my songs in queue. Some bangers in Metro...In Dino though. Poetic, considering Metro...in Dino is exactly giving me heavy emotions these days. Too many emotions. Too few ways to hold them. Some days, I genuinely want to hit pause on my brain. Switch it off. No overthinking. No comparing. Just... exist.

2025: Absolute Cinema - Sports Edition

Anyway, let’s shift the mood for a second. Some good things did happen this month — and boy, were they “Absolute Cinema”.

RCB won the IPL. June 3rd, 2025. No. 18 (Kohli) lifts the trophy in Season 18. The date? 03/06/2025. Add those up. 18. I mean, come on. You can’t write this stuff. If someone pitched this as a movie script, it’d get rejected for being “too unrealistic.” But this wasn’t fiction. It actually happened. As someone who’s followed RCB since childhood — back when they'd lose finals, knockouts like it was a hobby, when memes were harsher than opponents — this win? It healed something in me. We were always the emotional support franchise, the “we tried our best” team, “we won hearts” team. So seeing that man, our No. 18, finally lift that trophy… it wasn’t just a sports moment. It was personal. It felt like watching the most hardworking character get his due. Life has to give back I suppose at some point if you keep putting in and giving in efforts with the right intent. As I sit and write today (29th June 2025) wearing the Indian Cricket team jersey with Virat on the back and remembering that one year ago, we won that T20 World Cup as well. Man I have goosebumps at this point while I write. As Virat puts it - “God’s Plan Baby”.

But it wasn’t just RCB. 2025 has been a year of redemption stories. Sports decided it’s time for the underdogs to finally get their flowers.

• South Africa won the WTC Final — their first-ever major ICC trophy after 27 years or so. I was shocked and weirdly proud. Like, “you finally did it bro.”
• Tottenham Hotspur won a trophy. Actual, tangible silverware.
• Crystal Palace? Won.
• Newcastle United? Won.
• Hobart Hurricanes won BBL 2025

I don’t know who’s writing these storylines in 2025, but I need them to take over my life for a bit. All these teams that were running marathons on a treadmill finally crossed the finish line. And it made me think. If they can do it — after years of jokes, heartbreaks, "maybe next years", and everyone giving up on them — maybe, just maybe, we can too.

Maybe the guy staring out the window, wondering if he’s good enough — maybe he’s season 18 is yet to come. God I hope it is. Because if this year in sports tells you something it’s the fact that -

When the story flips, oh man, it’s beautiful.

Little Things that made June

A few more things stitched themselves into June. I watched "Sitaare Zameen Par" with my mom — and honestly, it was one of the more refreshing things to come out of Bollywood in a while. The kind of film that doesn’t try too hard — but somehow, by the end, leaves you sitting with your own life quietly.

“Sabka apna apna normal hota hai.”

A line that’s so simple, it almost sounds like something you’d scroll past. But damn, if that isn’t one of the hardest truths. There’s no universal scale. Just our own little wins, our own oddly specific struggles, our own stories that make sense only to us. The smallest victories. The loudest silences. The heaviest losses. They all count. And we forget that sometimes.

Speaking of stories, I also completed the main campaign of Ghost of Tsushima. Wow. Some games you play. This one you live. The beauty, the honour, the weight of that final choice. Do you follow duty or forgiveness? What exactly is honour for you? Both endings make sense. Both hurt. And that’s life, isn’t it? Rarely black or white — mostly shades of painful grey.

On the cricket side of things, India lost the first Test in England. Honestly, I wasn’t even watching it closely — mostly because Kohli wasn’t playing. But I had to show up for Bumrah. Hopefully, we bounce back in the next game. Indian test cricket is like that ex you want to keep checking on — you know they’re gonna hurt you but you still care too much to let go.

Had one wild debate session with old school friends over a Pride Month topic. The kind of chaotic energy where you start with “let’s discuss like adults” and end with someone saying something that could get you cancelled in five countries. I genuinely believe we need a podcast — because the takes were unhinged, the arguments were unnecessary, and the entertainment was top-tier.

Also, there was this one random late night where I was doom-scrolling through reels and stumbled upon a snippet of Tom Hiddleston reading a letter from Letters Live. I paused. Watched the whole thing. Then watched another. And another. There’s one line that just... stayed with me in that letter, and it's so so heartwarming that I wish I could say this to someone.

All this I did without you. This was my loss.
All this I want to do with you. This will be my gain.
All this I would gladly have forgone for the sake of one minute of your company, for your laugh, your voice, your eyes, hair, lips, body, and above all for your sweet, ever-surprising mind which is an enchanting quarry in which it is my privilege to delve.

Man, letters are beautiful. Here’s the link to the entire letter being read by Tom Hiddlestone (guy can read Terms and Conditions and I would still listen! ), please go and hear it once, it honestly makes your heart warm up. Also a few more letters you should check out on the same channel -

Benedict reads Nick Cave's letter about grief

Ian Wright reads Albert Camus' letter to the teacher that changed his life

I am yet to watch more of these videos, you can suggest me as well if you came across some great ones.

Ending June: One Limp at a Time

So yeah. June came with a limp — literally — and somehow this month became an act of finding my balance again. Between cold Ganga water and angry Pune rains, between mountain roads and metro glass, between group selfies and solo spirals… I lived a little. I felt a lot. Some days I felt too much. Some days I felt nothing at all.

There were highs — like RCB winning, finishing Ghost of Tsushima, and laughing till it hurt with cousins. And there were the usual inner battles — the “not good enough” thoughts on loop, the metro rides where my reflection felt heavier than my bag, the random reels that hit too close.

No life-changing realisations. Just small pauses. Tiny pockets of calm. Some reminders I didn’t know I needed. And maybe that’s enough for now.

To limp through a month. To collect a few stories. To write them down on a rainy afternoon, coffee in hand. Yeah, I know. Too much main character energy again. But still. I wonder what July has in store. Hopefully, a little more peace. A little less noise. But maybe that’s asking for too much. For now, I just want to do my work with good intent. Show up. Try again. Maybe one day the story flips.

That's all for now.