Deep inside, we’re wired not for victory, but for velocity

” An object in possession seldom retains the same charm that it had in pursuit.” — Pliny the Younger

 

The Problem Isn’t What You Want. It’s What Happens After You Get It.

 

There’s a strange, almost comical moment in every human life:

 

You chase something with the hunger of a pilgrim. You pray for it, plan around it, pitch it to yourself repeatedly. You finally get it.

 

And then— something inside you quietly whispers… “This? Really?”

 

Welcome to what is defined as hedonic adaptation.

 

It happens in boardrooms, in relationships, in branding campaigns, in entrepreneurship, in careers, in consumption, in spirituality.

 

It’s a universal glitch.

 

Pliny the Younger spotted it 1,900 years ago. We still haven’t updated the firmware.

 

The Pursuit High: A Pleasant Addiction We Don’t Admit To

 

Psychologists call it “reward prediction error.”

Brands call it “the next launch.”

Entrepreneurs call it “once this milestone comes…”

Couples call it “we need a vacation.”

Politicians call it “my next term.”

 

But everywhere, the script is the same: Anticipation > Acquisition.

 

And the world is full of beautifully bizarre stories that prove it.

 

The Twisted Math Of Wanting

 

Here’s what your brain does, and it’s diabolical:

 

During pursuit: Dopamine floods your system. Every product video, every saved link, every mental calculation of “I could afford this if I skip lunch for three months”—it’s all rocket fuel for your pleasure centers.

 

Upon acquisition: Dopamine hits pause. “Cool. Next?”

 

Thirty days later: What sound system?

 

Hedonic adaptation describes how people naturally return to stable happiness levels after positive or negative life events, making initial excitement fade as newness wears off.

 

The scientists have a term for it: the Hedonic Treadmill. You run faster, you stay in the same place, and somehow you’re also paying for premium gym membership.

 

The corporate world figured this out decades ago. Why do you think there will be an iPhone 47? Because the iPhone 46 stopped sparking joy approximately eleven minutes after unboxing.

 

The Rolling Stones’ Lost Guitar

 

Keith Richards of the fabled Rolling Stones once lost his cherished guitar in a hotel. The hunt? Frenzied, desperate. The music, the magic imagined with that guitar? Boundless. When it was finally recovered, Richards said he barely noticed. The pursuit had sculpted a myth, while possession was mundane.

 

The Psychology Behind The Elusive Charm

 

Science backs this phenomenon: The “reward prediction error” theory says we thrive on anticipation. The joy spikes as we get closer to a goal, then crashes upon achievement as the mind recalibrates.

 

Our minds are wired less to possess and more to pursue.

 

The Dopamine Deception: Our Brain On The Hunt

 

Neuroscience has a name for our Roman friend Pliny’s observation: the Dopamine Loop. Contrary to popular belief, dopamine isn’t the pleasure chemical; it’s the anticipation chemical. It’s the biological kick you get from the hunt, the search, the potential of a reward.

The moment you click “buy,” your brain has already celebrated. The possession is just the administrative cleanup. The charm wasn’t in the object; it was in the movie your mind directed, scored, and produced about the object. The reality, no matter how shiny, can never compete with the blockbuster playing in your head.

This isn’t just about consumerism. This is the operating system of our desires—for careers, relationships, status.

 

The Tulip That Bankrupted A Nation( Netherlands, 1637)

 

Imagine a flower bulb so coveted, it was worth a grand Amsterdam canal house. During Tulip Mania, a single Semper Augustus tulip bulb could fetch that price. People sold their businesses, land, and life savings for a piece of paper—a futures contract—for a bulb still in the ground. The pursuit was a national bloodsport. Then, the bubble burst. The bulbs, now physically possessed, were just… bulbs. The charm wasn’t in the flower; it was in the delirious, collective pursuit of unimaginable wealth.

 

The Wake-Up Call: You Are Addicted to Your Own Movie

So, what’s the reality check? Your life is likely a series of completed pursuits, leaving a trail of mildly disappointing possessions and achievements. The promotion came with bureaucracy. The dream car with EMI stress. The perfect partner with… well, reality.

The modern world is a factory designed to exploit this very loop. Swipe, refresh, buy, upgrade. It’s a hamster wheel of desire, and you’re the hamster, thinking you’re on a cosmic journey.

The charm dissipates not because the object is flawed, but because the pursuit—the state of wanting—is where you are most creatively, passionately, and vibrantly engaged.

 

The $40,000 Omelette Nobody Wanted – New York, USA

 

A Manhattan restaurant once introduced a $40,000 omelette (yes, 4-zero-thousand) featuring lobster and rare caviar.

 

People lined up to see it, photograph it, post about it.

 

The restaurant became a sensation.

 

But the sales? A few units a year.

 

It turned out people wanted the idea of experiencing luxury far more than the ownership of eating it. Charm in pursuit.Disinterest in possession.

 

The Case of the Japanese “Rent-a-Family” Industry

 

Japan’s booming “rent-a-family” business (you can literally hire an actor to play a parent, partner or friend for a day) is built entirely on Pliny’s insight:

 

People often find fantasy companionship more emotionally satisfying than real-life relationships, which come with expectations, unpredictability, and complexity. Pursuit is emotionally safe. Possession is emotionally costly.

 

Why the Mind Loves the Chase More Than the Catch

 

1. Possession introduces responsibility.

Desire has no maintenance cost. Ownership does.

 

2. Pursuit is identity-enhancing.

We are what we strive for—not always what we own.

 

3. The brain releases dopamine during anticipation, not arrival.

This is why apps ping you during the waiting phase.
This is why sales funnels are engineered around suspense.
This is why every trailer is more exciting than the movie.

 

4. The novelty arc collapses instantly upon possession.

This is why toddlers toss new toys aside. And why adults chase new phones with toddler-level enthusiasm.

 

A Reality Check for Brands, Leaders & Humans

 

If Pliny’s law is true (and it clearly is),
then the question isn’t:

“How do we help people want our product?”

But:

“How do we help them continue wanting it after they own it?”

 

Most brands, leaders, institutions, couples, creators, and careers fail right here.

 

Retention dies not because value drops—
but because charm drops.

 

Charm is the ultimate renewable resource.
But only if you design for it.

 

Some potential thought sparks

 

Design for the ‘Second Seduction.’

The first purchase wins a customer.
The second desire keeps them.
Create rituals, surprises, personal wins after ownership.

 

Keep a bit of mystery alive.

The worst thing a brand or leader can do:
become predictable.

 

Shift from “What we offer” to “What they continue to experience.”

Charm is experiential, not transactional.

 

Celebrate progress, not possession.

Make the journey feel like the reward.
Gamify growth, not ownership.

 

Build “pursuit loops” into the product or relationship.

Micro-chases.
Mini milestones.
Unfolding chapters.

Humans crave movement more than medals.

 

We chase.
We catch.
We yawn.

 

Then we chase again— because deep inside, we’re wired not for victory,
but for velocity.

 

Pliny merely held up the mirror. We’re the ones who keep looking away.

 

So maybe the trick is simple:
Don’t fall in love with what you want.
Fall in love with what you do with it after you get it.

 

That’s where charm lives.
And where most of the world never looks.

Is Rahul Gandhi the Worst Brand Saboteur that India Inc Never Appointed?

 

Caveat Before We Begin

 

Before anyone leaps to conclusions, let me state this with crystalline clarity:
I, Suresh Dinakaran, am not espousing a political ideology, aligning with any party, or building a partisan narrative.

This is a branding lens.

A lens trained to detect patterns of perception, signals of credibility, and the long-term impact leaders have on the brand called Bharat—irrespective of which party they belong to.

 

This is about leadership as brand stewardship, not Left or Right.
It’s about a country’s image, its voice, and its future.

 

If India Inc. Had a Hiring Policy, Would Rahul Even Get an Interview?

 

Some leaders build nations. Others accidentally( I am beginning to see this as strategically) export doubt wholesale. This is a story about unearned privilege meeting unforced errors on the world stage.

 

So here’s the question:

 

Is Rahul Gandhi genuinely concerned for India yet chronically incapable of articulating that concern without damaging India’s reputation?

Or

Does he not fully understand the weight of representing a civilizational state on a global stage?

 

Let’s examine this — with balance, with nuance, but without flinching.

 

The Curious Case of the Accidental( or Deliberate?) Anti-Ambassador

 

Here’s a question that might set the cat amongst the pigeons in the personal branding fraternity. What happens when someone with immense inherited credibility systematically dismantles it, podium by podium, speech by speech, continent by continent?

 

Meet Rahul Gandhi, India’s Leader of Opposition, a title that carries constitutional gravitas but seems to sit as comfortably on his shoulders as a borrowed suit two sizes too large. And before you accuse me of partisan warfare, as I outlined right at the outset, let me be clear: this isn’t about left versus right, Congress versus BJP, or dynasty versus democracy. This is about something far more fundamental—the catastrophic collision between personal branding and national pride.

 

Because the truth to learn from is that Rahul Gandhi has become what we might call a Brand Saboteur—someone whose actions, intentional or otherwise, consistently undermine the very entity they’re meant to represent.

 

The Dynasty Discount: When Inheritance Replaces Investment

Let’s start where every honest conversation must: at the beginning.

 

Rahul Gandhi didn’t climb the greasy pole of Indian politics. He was born at the top of it. His great-grandfather was Jawaharlal Nehru. His grandmother was Indira Gandhi. His father was Rajiv Gandhi. In any other profession, this would be called nepotism. In Indian politics, it’s called “natural succession.”

 

He gained admission to St. Stephen’s College through the sports quota, later moved to Harvard after his father’s assassination, and eventually worked at Monitor Group in London before returning to India to establish a technology consultancy. A respectable enough trajectory—except that none of it explains the leap from businessman to vice president of India’s oldest political party in 2013, and eventual party president in 2017.

 

The problem isn’t that he inherited privilege. Privilege exists. The problem is what he’s done—or rather, hasn’t done—with it.

 

When you haven’t earned something through blood, sweat, and the brutal meritocracy of the marketplace, you don’t develop the survival instinct that comes from fighting for every inch. You don’t learn to read rooms, navigate complex negotiations, or understand that every word you speak on foreign or home soil echoes back amplified a thousandfold.

 

And boy, do those echoes carry.

 

The International Credibility Crisis: A Passport to Pessimism

Here’s where our story takes its most painful turn—the moment a Leader of Opposition becomes, inadvertently, a one-man tourism board for India’s critics.

 

The Cambridge Conundrum

At Cambridge University in February 2023, Gandhi declared that “Indian democracy is under attack” from the BJP government, claimed the Opposition was under “constant pressure,” and alleged that Pegasus spyware was being used to snoop on him and other politicians.

 

Now, let’s pause here. Criticism of governments is not just acceptable—it’s essential. Opposition leaders must hold power accountable. But there’s a Grand Canyon-sized difference between domestic accountability and international theater.

 

When you stand on foreign soil and declare your nation’s democracy “under attack,” you’re not just criticizing a government—you’re handing ammunition to every critic, competitor, and adversary your country has. You’re telling investors to think twice. You’re giving diplomatic rivals talking points. You’re essentially saying, “Don’t trust the institutions of my country.”

 

The Harvard Hiccup

At Harvard, Gandhi questioned whether India was “a fair and free democracy,” suggesting the “big fight in India is based on caste.” Again, caste is a legitimate issue deserving serious discussion. But reducing India’s complex democratic experiment—the world’s largest—to a single fault line while addressing foreign students isn’t illuminating. It’s reductive.

 

London (2023): “Indian democracy needs a little help from the outside”

 

His statement that Indian democracy needs “intervention” from abroad sparked the strongest diplomatic rebuke the UK had issued on Indian political discourse.

 

Never clarified. Never corrected.

 

Singapore (2018): “Politics of anger” & “India is divided”

Anecdotal oversimplification became an international soundbite.

 

Hamburg, Germany (2018): ISIS & Unemployment

He suggested unemployed youth in India could turn to ISIS-like radicalisation — drawing a sharp backlash for false equivalence.

 

Turkey & Bahrain: “India is a country of violence”

Statements made with no counterbalancing nuance or solutions — only sweeping generalisations.

 

Colombia (2024): “Wholesale attack on democracy… China is better organized than India”

Nothing damages a nation’s brand more than suggesting an authoritarian state is administratively superior to one’s own.

 

I am not even going into “Aloo se sona banane ki machine”, “Mahilaon ki izzat nahi hoti, isliye main Bharat Jodo Yatra kar raha hoon.”, “Bimari ke sath bimari milti hai”…

 

The issue isn’t vocabulary. The issue is narrative discipline — or the absence of it.

 

The Pattern Problem

These aren’t isolated. At Chatham House in London, Gandhi expressed surprise that “Western European countries don’t seem to notice that large chunks of democracy were falling away” in India.

 

Notice the pattern? The venue changes, but the script remains the same: India’s institutions are crumbling, democracy is dying, and the current government is to blame for everything.

 

The Arnab Moment: When Unpreparedness Met Prime Time

 

If there’s a “before” and “after” moment in Rahul Gandhi’s political brand journey, it’s the 2014 interview with Arnab Goswami on Times Now.

 

After ten years in elected office, Gandhi sat down for his first formal prime-time interview—a grueling hour and twenty minutes that exposed worrying vagueness, with the Congress scion at turns “confident and worryingly vague,” repeating himself, looking distracted, and appearing generally unprepared.

 

When asked if he was avoiding a face-off with Narendra Modi, Gandhi responded: “To understand that question you have to understand who Rahul Gandhi is and what Rahul Gandhi’s circumstances have been.” He referred to himself in the third person—never a good sign when you’re trying to project leadership.

 

The interview was such a disaster that Arnab Goswami later revealed Gandhi’s team thought “his level was very much below the mark and requested Arnab to give him a second chance, whereas by then, the tapes were already on the way to Mumbai.”

 

This wasn’t just a bad interview. It was a masterclass in how not to do personal branding. The lack of preparation. The circular arguments. The inability to deliver crisp, quotable responses. The third-person references. It all pointed to one uncomfortable reality: the emperor’s new clothes were invisible because there were no clothes to begin with.

 

Talk about “Privilege without Performance—A Masterclass in Brand Devaluation”.

 

The Foot-in-Mouth Disease: A Chronic Condition

 

Every politician misspeaks occasionally. It’s human. But with Gandhi, the gaffes have achieved a peculiar consistency that suggests something deeper than occasional slips.

 

There’s the infamous “escape velocity” metaphor for poverty that left economists scratching their heads. There’s “poverty is a state of mind.” There’s referring to himself repeatedly in the third person. There’s “terrorism is impossible to be stopped at all time. We will stop 99% of the attacks; 1% of the attacks will get through”—a statement that offers cold comfort to victims of terror.

 

And most recently, during debates on Operation Sindoor, Gandhi misquoted External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar, claiming that “informing Pakistan at the start of our attack was a crime,” implying India warned Pakistan before strikes began—a gross distortion that the Ministry of External Affairs had to officially refute.

 

Pakistani media immediately picked up Gandhi’s statements, with channels running news asking “how many Indian jets were lost,” essentially using his words as propaganda validation.

 

This isn’t just a domestic political own goal. It’s an international credibility catastrophe.

 

“The ‘Yes Men’ Orchestra: Playing to an Empty Gallery

 

Every Bharat Inc. CEO knows: your brand’s fate depends on the voices you heed. But Rahul, forever encircled by anodyne cheerleaders, seems to play in an echo chamber cranked up to 11.

 

Fresh ideas and constructive dissent? Not on this menu. Instead, every misstep meets a round of applause, every gaffe becomes the next campaign anthem. It’s like a focus group where everyone’s paid in family brownies—and skepticism is a sacking offence. Welcome to the Republic called ” The Cacophony of Consensus: Where No ‘No Men’ Are Allowed.

 

The pattern continues. Who advises Gandhi to make these international speeches? Who reviews the talking points? Who debriefs after each appearance and says, “Perhaps framing our entire democracy as collapsing while standing in Cambridge isn’t the strategic win we’re looking for”?

 

The silence is deafening because it doesn’t exist. Or if it does, it’s the kind of silence that comes from courtiers afraid to speak truth to inherited power.

 

This is the curse of dynastic politics—you’re surrounded by people who owe their positions to your surname, not to your competence. They won’t tell you the speech was terrible. They’ll say it was “brave” and “necessary.” They won’t mention that you referred to yourself in the third person. They’ll praise your “authenticity.”

 

To me, he is the Czar of Counter-Positioning!

 

When Your Quotes Become Their Weapons

 

Perhaps the most damning indictment of Gandhi’s brand sabotage is how adversaries weaponize his statements.

 

In 2019, Pakistan’s letter to the UN quoted Rahul Gandhi, noting that he had mentioned “people dying” in Jammu and Kashmir following the abrogation of Article 370.

 

In 2024, designated terrorist Gurpatwant Singh Pannun used Gandhi’s statements about Sikhs facing “existential threat” in Modi’s India to justify Khalistan referendum calls, declaring Gandhi “the new face of India” and suggesting Congress has accepted Punjab’s independence.

 

When terrorists, hostile nations, and separatist movements quote you more often than your own supporters, your personal branding has achieved something quite remarkable: it has become radioactive.

 

The Vision Vacuum: Criticism Without Construction

 

Here’s the question that haunts( or must) Gandhi’s political brand: What does he actually stand for?

 

Strip away the anti-Modi rhetoric. Remove the dynasty legacy. Subtract the attacks on institutions. What’s left?

 

Opposition is essential in democracy. But opposition without a compelling alternative isn’t governance—it’s just noise. Gandhi himself acknowledged: “the real challenge that people like me and other leaders in the opposition have is, what does that thing look like?”

 

That admission—honest as it may be—is the problem. You can’t inspire a nation by admitting you haven’t figured out the alternative yet. You can’t ask people to follow you into the unknown when you confess you’re not sure where you’re going.

 

Personal branding 101: Be for something, not just against everything.

 

The Personal Branding Imperatives for Leaders of State (and Opposition)

 

This brings us to the heart of the matter: What does effective personal branding look like for a Leader of Opposition in the world’s largest democracy?

 

1. Earn Your Stripes Visibly

If you inherited your position, work triple-hard to prove you deserve it. Show up. Do the groundwork. Master policy details. Become indispensable through competence, not just through surname

 

2. Master the Art of Constructive Criticism

Hold power accountable—domestically. Save your most scathing critiques for Parliament, state assemblies, and Indian media. On foreign soil, be statesmanlike. Represent the nation first, your party second.

 

3. Develop a Positive Vision

“Not them” isn’t a platform. “Here’s what we’ll build” is. Voters need to see what you’re for, not just what you’re against.

 

4. Prepare Like Your Legacy Depends on It (Because It Does)

Gandhi’s team should have limited the Arnab interview to 30 minutes, prepared exhaustive FAQs, and anticipated difficult questions. Preparation isn’t optional at this level—it’s existential.

 

5. Choose Your Counselors Wisely

Surround yourself with people who will tell you uncomfortable truths, not comfortable lies. If everyone agrees with you all the time, you’re in an echo chamber, not a war room.

 

6. Understand That Every Word is Permanent

In the digital age, there are no throwaway comments. Everything is recorded, transcribed, translated, and potentially weaponized. Speak with the awareness that your words will outlive the moment.

 

7. National Pride Transcends Party Politics

There’s a line—admittedly blurry—between legitimate criticism and national self-harm. Learn where it is. Respect it.

 

Coining the Condition: From Brand Ambassador to Brand Saboteur

We need a new language for this phenomenon. Because this rare specie merited it. I was thinking of “UnBrand Ambassador” first but it doesn’t quite capture it—too passive, too neutral. What we’re witnessing is more active, more consequential.

 

Brand Saboteur works better—someone whose actions, whether intentional or through sheer incompetence(or both), actively undermine the entity they are meant to represent.

 

But perhaps we need something more specific to the political realm:

 

National Credit Eroder (NCE): A political leader whose statements systematically diminish their nation’s credibility, particularly on international platforms.

 

Reputation Liability (RL): A public figure whose presence in discourse creates more reputational risk than value.

 

Legacy Borrower Without Returns: Someone trading on inherited credibility while generating negative equity for the very institutions that gave them standing.

 

Dynasty Vs Destiny: The Narrative That Never Grows Up

 

Rahul Gandhi’s biggest inheritance is not wealth — but political oxygen.
He has never had to fight for airtime, platform, or access. That isn’t an accusation; it’s a fact.

 

But leadership, unlike legacy, must be earned, not entitled.

 

In his well-known Arnab Goswami interview (Jan 2014), he had said:

 

“I didn’t choose to be born in this family… I can walk away or I can improve things.”

 

A fair point.

 

But almost 12 years later, the question remains: Has he improved anything — or repeatedly walked away from accountability, responsibility, and coherence?

 

A brand that refuses to mature becomes a caricature. A leader that refuses to evolve becomes a liability.

 

Closing Note: For Bharat, Not for Politics

 

India’s political class must rise above electoral combat and embrace brand stewardship.

Every speech abroad is a billboard for Bharat.
Every interview is a micro-moment of perception management.
Every quote is a line item in India’s global brand equity.

 

Rahul Gandhi must choose his moment:
Will he be the heir to a dynasty?
Or the architect of a new leadership ethos?

 

At this stage, the world is not judging his ideology.
It is judging his capacity.

 

And that is the real story.

Meet street dogs: the original work-from-home pioneers…

 

Lessons in life, leadership, letting go, letting loose from the masters of strategic indifference: our own street dogs.

 

Ever seen a street dog negotiate highway traffic like it’s a Formula 1 track? Sorry to disappoint you: They aren’t just chasing cars—they’re auditioning for the next Fast & Furry-ous!

 

They are the undisputed Guardians of the Gully: Every patch of pavement is a throne, every trash bin a treasure chest. Take a pause to understand this: From yoga stretches to daredevil sprints—street dogs live the drama on four paws.

 

While we have been obsessing over our LinkedIn | Instagram profiles, quarterly targets and the next big start-up idea, an entire shadow government has been operating right under our nose—literally at knee level. They don’t file taxes, they ignore traffic rules, and they’ve mastered the art of doing absolutely nothing while looking extremely busy.

 

So what can we possibly learn from creatures who sleep 16 hours, own nothing, and spend their waking hours barking at vehicles? Turns out, everything.

 

Every dog has its day, but street dogs have EVERY day.

 

They don’t wait for permission, perfect timing, or ideal conditions. Every day is their day because they’ve decided it is. Their joy, sleep, and existence don’t require your validation. Freedom 101.

 

Every dog has its day, and they’re not documenting it for the ‘gram’.

 

That nap? Unposted. That victory over the motorcycle? No story update. That perfect spot in the sun? No check-in. They’re just… living it.

 

Don’t mistake their going solo for loneliness: It’s high-stakes self-reliance. Watching a solo street dog navigate traffic is watching poetry and danger unfold in tandem.

 

The subtle nods, shared snacks, protective barks are more than survival tactics—they’re an emotional ecosystem that mirrors, dare we say, office politics with way less paperwork. Clan life runs deep.

 

A complex vocabulary of growls, yaps, and silent howls that forms the street’s social contract. You begin to understand that bark code is a language.

 

The mix is about going solo or clanning. Behold the Solo Sentinel. This isn’t a dog; it’s a franchise owner. That 200-meter stretch of pavement outside Sharma Ji’s clinic? His sole proprietorship. He defends it not with legal paperwork, but with a glare that could freeze a running engine and a proprietary bark that translates to, “My EBITDA, my rules.” His heroism isn’t in epic battles, but in the daily, stoic ownership of his domain.

 

Contrast this with The Clan. The Magnificent Seven. Fantastic Four. The Dirty Dozen. Three’s Company. They’re the conglomerate. They control the entire park, with a complex hierarchy visible only to the initiated. The alpha doesn’t always lead the charge; he’s the strategist from the rear, deploying lieutenants to handle scooter incursions while he conserves energy for critical disputes with the rival clan from the next block.

 

Ever noticed how the laziest dog on the block becomes an Olympian sprinter the moment a car backfires? What ancient betrayal by the wheel do they collectively remember?” “The next time you see two clans in a tense, barking standoff, ask yourself: Is this about a female, a forgotten bone, or a deeply held ideological difference over garbage heap sovereignty?

 

There’s no better MBA in leadership, community building, risk-taking, and time-pass management than observing street dogs for 15 minutes. Forget Harvard — try HSR Layout, Bangalore.

 

Watch a pack when one among them barks. It’s never a lonely bark. It’s a WhatsApp broadcast in audio format. Within 0.8 seconds, five other dogs join the group call.

 

Suddenly, a dog who was sleeping in Shavasana for six straight hours leaps up like he’s heard the stock market crash.

 

Because community matters. And the street dog community is strong enough to make HR departments cry.

 

If Marvel ever wants stunt doubles, our street dogs are ready.

 

Crossing a six-lane highway at 6 pm? Easy.

 

They don’t run. They saunter, glancing casually at speeding cars like:

 

“Bro, you slow down. I was here first.” Street dogs are the stunt daredevils we never paid for.

 

This is not bravery. This is divine-level risk appetite.

 

Most of them can start their Yoga Studios and people would be flocking to them. The same dogs who do death-defying highway sprints also practice:

 

  • Downward Dog (naturally)-Performed approximately 47 times a day, usually after a nap, with the kind of satisfaction that suggests they’ve just solved world hunger.

 

  • The Twist:That full-body contortion while scratching an itch? That’s advanced spinal flexibility right there. We’re out here cracking our backs just getting out of bed.

 

  • The Sun Salutation( Surya Namaskar, if you may): Except they do it ironically, by finding the ONE patch of sunlight streaming through a gap and occupying it with the dedication of a sunbather in Sao Polo.

 

  • The Corpse Pose (Shavasana): Executed with such commitment that you’ll genuinely wonder if they’re still breathing. Bonus points when performed in the middle of a busy marketplace, completely oblivious to the chaos around them.

 

Their stretching routine alone puts our gym warmups to shame. Every limb extended to its maximum capacity, that satisfying shake that travels from nose to tail, followed by a yawn that seems to dislocate their entire jaw. They’ve mastered the art of being simultaneously completely relaxed and utterly present.

 

They are enlightened beings. Buddha had a Bodhi tree; street dogs have dust and sunshine.

 

If yawn were to be an Olympic sport, street dogs would be raking in the gold by the dozen.

 

Have you ever seen a street dog yawn? It is opera-level drama.

 

A grand saga of lungs, tongue, teeth, and pure “I-own-this-street” confidence.

 

Human yawns are out of biological necessity. Dog yawns are a statement.

 

They are at their natural best when attending to nature’s call.

 

They will walk. And walk. And walk. Sniff. Reject location. Walk more.
Reject again. Find the exact spiritual GPS coordinate where the universe aligns.

 

Only then does nature get permission to call.

 

Humans should learn selectiveness from them.

 

Marketing Psychology often uses terms like thrill of the chaseandafterglow ‘. Let me explain for all those unaware. The thrill of the chase refers to the excitement and dopamine-driven anticipation consumers experience during the pursuit of a purchase or goal, while the afterglow is the subsequent, but often transient, feeling of satisfaction or happiness after the purchase is completed.

 

Watch them sprint after a two wheeler and put the rider under maximum stress test. The Triumph( they are brand agnostic, so it can even be a Yamaha or a Pulsar or a Harley or a Hero) on their face is an eclectic mix of the thrill of the chase and the afterglow combined.

 

Let’s address the elephant in the room—or rather, the dog on the street corner. These canines have carved up our cities with the precision of a mafia don dividing turf. That stretch from the chai shop to the paan stall? That’s Bruno’s. The parking lot near the temple? Belongs to the one-eared veteran we call Colonel. Moti struts near the Municipal school. Tommy being the mass market brand is all over the place.And, if given a chance, I would like to have a streetcar…oops…street dog named desire.

 

While we’re stuck in society WhatsApp groups arguing about parking slots and whose car is blocking whose imaginary boundary, these dogs have perfected the art of territorial control without a single property deed, Aadhar card, or angry notice.

 

The solo operators are my favorites—the Clint Eastwoods of the street dog world. You know the type. Usually positioned at a strategic traffic signal, maintaining eye contact that says, “I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe.” They don’t need a pack. They ARE the pack. Their vibe screams, “I have a particular set of skills,” except those skills involve strategic napping and intimidating Swiggy delivery guys.

 

Forget Duolingo. The real street smarts are communicating in frequencies we can’t even comprehend.

 

There’s a entire vocabulary( actually linguistic marvel) happening:

 

  • 3 AM Bark: “I exist, therefore I bark” (Philosophical)
  • Motorcycle Bark: “Unacceptable! This two-wheeled demon must be stopped!” (Righteous anger)
  • Inter-pack Bark: “Carl from the next street is on our turf again” (Gossip/Intel sharing)
  • Food Bark: “The wedding caterers are here” (Community alert system)
  • Random 2 PM Bark: No reason. Just felt like it. (Existential)

 

The coordination is the killer. One dog spots a suspicious character (read: any human walking confidently), sounds the alarm, and suddenly it’s a relay race of barking spreading across three streets. It’s like a WhatsApp forward, except with better reach and more urgency.

 

And they have this incredible ability to bark at absolutely nothing. You’ll look where they’re looking, see literally empty space, and they’re having a full-blown meltdown. Either they’re seeing ghosts, or they’re performance artists and we’re all part of their immersive theatre experience.

 

So the next time you’re stuck in traffic, stressed about deadlines, worried about what people think, anxious about the future, or convinced that you need to achieve-acquire-accomplish to matter—look at that street dog sprawled on the pavement without a care in the world.

 

He’s not worried about his social media profile.
He’s not anxious about “making it.”
He’s not comparing his life to some filtered version of someone else’s.
He’s not even slightly bothered that he has no plans for the weekend.

 

He’s just there. Fully, completely, unapologetically there.

 

And maybe—just maybe—that scruffy, flea-bitten philosopher sleeping in the shade of your judgment is the most enlightened being you’ll encounter today.

 

They’re not waiting for their day.
Every day is their day.
They made sure of it.

 

Street dogs teach us that sovereignty is situational—sometimes it means charging fearlessly forward, other times it’s stretching wide open to seize a moment of calm.

 

Every dog has its day’ isn’t just a saying; it’s a street dog manifesto—raw, irreverent, and unflinchingly real.