Yesterday, in Malad, a moment of rage turned irreversible. A disagreement between two fellow passengers escalated, a knife was drawn, and a life was lost. By the time the dust settled, nothing could be taken back—no word, no action, no second chance. Only silence remained, heavy with consequences. Incidents like these shock us for a day, maybe two. We discuss them, condemn them, forward the news, shake our heads—and then move on. But perhaps the real tragedy is not just what happened there, between two strangers, but what quietly happens within us every time we lose control and call it “the heat of the moment.” What is this heat? Where does it come from? And why does it so easily overpower reason, empathy, and restraint? Rage is rarely born in that instant. It is usually a slow accumulation—of frustration, helplessness, wounded pride, unmet expectations, and the constant feeling of being wronged by the world. The moment is merely the spark. The fuel has been piling up for years. And i...
The other day, while standing in line at a voting booth, the person verifying my documents paused and said, “You look quite different from your ID proof.” I smiled and replied, “That ID was issued 10 years ago. Ten years is a long time.” We both laughed, but the remark stayed with me. It made me reflect on how often we look at people, situations, and even ourselves through old lenses—without realizing how much has changed. We search for familiarity. We expect sameness. And when we don’t find it, we say, “You’ve changed.” But change is inevitable. Time changes. The environment changes. People around us change. And whether we like it or not, we change too . Our experiences shape us. Our struggles mature us. Our learnings soften or strengthen us. And all of this shows—on our faces, in our choices, and in the way we see the world. Yet, many times, we are judged using versions of us from years ago. If you look at me through a lens from 10 years back, of course I’ll look differen...