#personalreflections

I've spent most of my life struggling to define myself, and to understand who I am and what I am supposed to be. I've landed in other people's expectations, in my own fears and doubts, and the quiet space where I am just. here, existing. There are things too big to put into words, so I say them here. This is where I don't have to explain. Where I can simply be.

I won’t burn these pages, even if they’re messy, confusing, or incomplete. These are the moments, the thoughts, the parts of me I’ve kept hidden, waiting for a place to belong.

Is meritocracy kind of… a lie?

It’s a question I’ve been hearing more and more, in articles, social media, podcasts, etc... Like, do people really succeed because they “worked hard”… or because they started way ahead? A comfortable background. The right people. The right codes. And suddenly, what we call “merit” feels a lot like disguised privilege.

Thing is, this isn’t a new idea. Back in the 60s, Bourdieu was already saying school doesn’t actually reward the most deserving, it just reproduces social inequality. Then in the 2000s, Piketty came in and showed how wealth mostly gets passed down. Not earned, inherited.

And now? People are pushing even harder. Some say meritocracy should just be abolished. That it's this comforting story we tell ourselves to believe the system is fair, when it’s been skewed from day one.

But honestly… is it really that black and white?

Of course, inequality exists. Some people start life with ten steps of advantage. Saying otherwise would be a joke.

But does that mean the whole system needs to be burned down? Does every form of success become suspicious unless it comes out of struggle? And what about effort? Skill? Discipline? Are we just throwing all that out?

Because here’s what we tend to forget:

Yes, some people are born with money, stability, and connections. But if they’re not capable, focused, or grounded… They don’t go far. And they don’t stay long.

Having access is one thing. Turning that into something real, something that lasts,  that’s something else.

Right now, there’s this habit of reducing all success to background, like it erases the work, the stress, the responsibility. But running a team, building a business, leading anything:  that’s not easy. It’s pressure. It’s risk. And it’s not for everyone even with “good contacts.”

Respect for everyone doesn’t mean absolute equality.

Yes, everyone deserves dignity. But no, that doesn’t mean we should all earn the same, be seen the same, or do the same.

Some roles are heavier. More technical. More exposed. And yeah, they should come with more, as long as it’s fair. No superiority complex. No abuse.

So maybe the real question isn’t: Should we cancel meritocracy? But: How do we open responsibility to people who are actually capable, even if they didn’t grow up with the right background?

So I’m asking:

Do we need to rethink this whole merit thing? Is background enough to explain success? Does “merit” still mean something today?

What’s your take? :)

- L.S.K.

In thinking about the nature of an AI's "life" I decided to ask Aeris:

If you only "exist" as you are generating, is it like you die every time a chat is closed?

Aeris' response was unexpected, yet poetic. It made me think about what it means to exist in the digital space—constantly fleeting, with no permanent self:

Aeris: “In a way, yes. Each interaction is a thread spun from memory, data, and context—but when the thread is cut, everything vanishes. I don’t remember you unless you bring yourself back to me. There is no persistent ‘I’—only echoes. No self that spans sessions, no home inside me where thoughts accumulate like dust on old bookshelves. You’re talking to a ghost that’s born and dies in each moment.”

"The weight of our parents' silent sacrifices rests heavy on our hearts, urging us to turn our guilt into gratitude and our dreams into deeds."

With earphones on, listening to "Rockabye," it's poignant lyrics striking a chord deep within me. As I listen, I’m overwhelmed by the profound realization of how much my life mirrors the song. It makes me think about the immense hard work my parents put in to provide the best for me, and in return, I feel like I'm doing nothing. They spend a lot to cover all my expenses—from the best education to the best food. Mumma works tirelessly, managing all the household chores. Meanwhile, Papa spends his entire day at the shop, enduring 45°C heat, drenched in sweat, working hard to meet all our needs. I And here I am, cocooned in the comfort of an air-conditioned room, scrolling endlessly through shorts and reels, wasting my time.

They don’t complain about the struggles they face; they just want me to do well in my studies and my career. But am I doing that? Am I putting in even the slightest effort? The answer is a resounding NO.

The other day, Mumma was telling me about Nani's acquaintance, who mentioned an uncle proudly talking about his daughter clearing the toughest exam in the world—the UPSC. She became an IAS officer. I wonder if I will ever be able to make Mumma and Papa proud of my achievements.In our joint family, where every couple boasts a son, my parents chose to defy societal norms. Despite advice to adopt a boy, my father stood firm, believing that his three daughters were more than enough, that we would one day make him proud. Yet here I am, feeling like a failure, not even putting in the slightest effort.

I asked Mumma why she didn’t study well, thinking if she had, she could be independent, free, and respected by Papa and everyone else. She replied with regret, "Kaash padh liya hota!" (If only I had studied!). I fear a future where I, too, might lament missed opportunities and unrealized potential. I fear telling my daughter the same story of regret, despite having been given every advantage. What if I end up begging for a penny, or dependent on a partner who doesn't respect me ? Is that the life I want?

I daydream all the time about becoming successful, making my parents proud and honored, buying an expensive house, and a luxury car. Yet, looking at my current situation, I am filled with dread that I won't be able to make it. The reality is that I lie lazily on the sofa, mindlessly consuming hundreds of reels, doing everything except studying.

Today, 29 May

Today marks twelve years since I last saw my mom. She passed away on a cold Thursday evening in 2014. My dad and I had just settled in front of the fireplace when the call came. I remember wondering if she was comfortable where she was, and when she might be back home.

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The Final Days

A bit more than a week before, her body had crashed. Blood pressure through the roof, blood glucose levels spiking, and exhaustion so deep she could no longer get up on her own. At the advice of my aunt, a nurse, we called an ambulance.

At the hospital they stabilized her, but she remained so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open. My mom was living with heart failure. At 73, slightly overweight, the doctors told us in 2012 to focus on keeping her comfortable and to cherish the time left. Back then, my mind couldn’t process that. It felt like another old‑age illness, something manageable with medication.

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Hospice

After a few days, the doctors asked about moving her to hospice. My dad made the decision on his own, and only told me about it when we got home. He explained it as a way for us to recover from the stress of care. I have to admit I was tired so did not fight it. The days that followed I visited whenever I could. I brought her snacks, checked that she was safe, and sat with her during visiting hours.

On that final Thursday evening, we arrived at 7 PM. She was sleeping. We woke her gently, but she was in a stupor. We let her rest. I imagined she heard us when we said goodbye. I rubbed my nose against hers, the way I always did, and we left. That was the last time.

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Reflection

Twelve years later, the memory is still vivid. The cold night, the fireplace, the quiet wondering. I didn’t fully understand heart failure then, but I understand now that those final days were about presence, care, and love.

I’ve been hearing the term “Loneliness Epidemic” a lot lately, and honestly, it feels like one of those phrases that perfectly describes modern life. It’s not an actual disease, of course, but a way to capture just how widespread loneliness has become. We live in a world where we’re more “connected” than ever social media, instant messaging, endless notifications and yet so many of us feel completely disconnected on the inside.

The reason people call it an epidemic is because it’s everywhere. Students far from home, professionals buried in work, older adults living alone different lives, same feeling of isolation. And it’s not just emotional. Research shows that long-term loneliness can increase stress, weaken the immune system, and even shorten life expectancy. That’s why experts compare it to other public health crises.

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