Suresh Dinakaran's Blog

 

Mad Men was right—it’s not about the product, it’s about the poetry. And if your brand’s love language is ‘10% off,’ you’re basically the Tinder swipe-left of your industry.

 

So, why are some brands Taylor Swift-level adored while others are just… there, like that one uncle who still forwards WhatsApp good morning messages?  Simple. One speaks to the heart. The other sounds like a terms-and-conditions pamphlet.

 

Let’s cut the corporate fluff, shall we? Your “rational consumer” personality is mostly a lie you tell yourself. While you’re busy justifying your premium coffee purchase with logical arguments about flavor profiles and fair trade certifications, the truth is simpler: that cup makes you feel like the sophisticated urban professional you aspire to be.

 

UFP(Unique Feelings Proposition)>USP(Unique Selling Proposition).

 

Welcome to the era where brands don’t just sell products—they sell feelings, memories, and sometimes, even an identity. If your brand isn’t giving customers goosebumps, FOMO, or an inexplicable urge to hit ‘Add to Cart,’ you’re just another logo in the graveyard of forgettable commerce.

Let’s talk State of the Heart Branding—where emotional alchemy turns casual buyers into cult followers.

 

People don’t buy what you do; they buy why you do it.” – Simon Sinek (who clearly knew a thing or two about heart-to-heart branding before it was cool).

 

And brands? They’re not just selling products anymore. They’re selling emotional season tickets to experiences that trigger something primal within us. Something that bypasses the logical brain faster than a politician dodges a direct question.

Think about it – you don’t buy a Royal Enfield because it’s the most fuel-efficient or technically advanced motorcycle. You buy it because somewhere in your brain, you’re already picturing yourself cruising down the highways of Ladakh with the wind in your beard (even if you work in IT and your longest journey is your daily commute to Whitefield). That’s not marketing; that’s emotional sorcery at its finest.

 

The vocabulary has changed. ROI is not what you and me have been used to. ROI is Return on Intimacy.

 

Apple doesn’t sell phones; they sell membership in a tribe of “creative rebels” (who somehow all look remarkably similar while insisting they’re unique). Harley-Davidson doesn’t sell motorcycles; they sell middle-aged accountants weekend tickets to feeling badass. (Nothing says “I’m rebelling against society” quite like a ₹15 lakh purchase approved by your financial advisor.). Zomato doesn’t just deliver food; they deliver guilt-free convenience with a side of witty notifications that make you feel like you’re texting with a friend, not an app. Their social media team roasts customers with the precision of a Punjabi auntie evaluating marriage prospects. Nike doesn’t sell shoes; they sell the promise that there’s an athlete inside you (hiding very deep inside, for most of us). Coca-Cola doesn’t sell sugary water; they sell happiness in a bottle (though your pancreas might disagree).

 

Meanwhile, closer home, Paper Boat isn’t selling drinks; they’re bottling nostalgia. Each sip of Aam Panna is a time machine back to summer holidays at your grandmother’s house. That’s not product differentiation—that’s emotional sorcery. Parle-G isn’t selling biscuits; they’re selling a childhood ritual that survived the invasion of Oreos and pretentious imported cookies. Asian Paints doesn’t sell wall colors; they sell the emotional journey of creating a home. “Har ghar kuch kehta hai” isn’t about paint; it’s about the stories your living space tells about you. Bajaj transformed from “Hamara Bajaj” (our Bajaj) to “The World’s Favourite Indian” – shifting from national pride to global ambition while keeping the emotional connection intact.

 

Before you dismiss this as touchy-feely nonsense, let’s get neurological for a moment. Studies show that people with damage to emotional centers of their brains cannot make decisions despite intact logical reasoning. Why? Because without emotional valuation, every option looks the same.

 

Your customers are no different. In a world of product parity, where ten brands offer essentially the same features, emotions become the tiebreaker. The brand that makes you feel seen, understood, or aspirational wins the wallet vote.

 

Disney doesn’t sell cartoons; it sells “Happily Ever After”nostalgia.

 

So, much as we would all want to disagree, there is a science behind the feels.

 

The old model was simple: create awareness, build consideration, drive purchase. Rinse, repeat, retire with a golden watch.

 

Today’s playbook is messier but more rewarding: create belonging, foster identity, build community, enable transformation. Suddenly you’re not selling a product; you’re offering membership in a movement.

 

Look at CRED. They could have positioned as “a credit card bill payment app.” Logical, clear, boring as watching paint dry. Instead, they built an exclusive club where “paying bills” became “proving you are financially responsible enough to join our premium community.” They transformed a mundane financial chore into a status symbol.

 

The needle has moved: from transactional to transformational. And that is the new brand playbook as well.

 

The masters of emotional marketing make it look effortless. Amul doesn’t just comment on current events; they make us smile about them through their utterly delicious (see what I did there?) topical cartoons. For 50+ years, they’ve maintained the same visual identity while staying culturally relevant – the marketing equivalent of a chameleon that never changes its shape. Spotify Wrapped transformed usage data into personal storytelling, making customers voluntarily market the service by sharing their music preferences. That’s not just smart; that’s emotional jiujitsu. Fevicol built decades of brand equity through humorous ads focusing on its emotional benefit (unbreakable bonds) rather than the chemical composition of adhesive (which, let’s be honest, would cure insomnia faster than melatonin).

 

These brands understand that in a world drowning in information but starving for meaning, emotional resonance cuts through the noise like a hot knife through malai paneer.

 

For inspiration, look at these emotional marketing masterstrokes: Surf Excel’s “Daag Acche Hain” campaign flipped the entire category narrative by associating stains with good parenting and childhood development. Cadbury’s iconic “Kuch Meetha Ho Jaaye” transformed chocolate from an occasional indulgence to a celebration ritual for everyday Indian moments. Brooke Bond Red Label’s “Taste of Togetherness” campaigns tackle social issues from transgender acceptance to elderly loneliness – making tea a symbol of social cohesion, not just a beverage. Dove’s Real Beauty campaign globally created an emotional platform so powerful that people forget they’re essentially selling soap.

 

Remember: in a world where most products are interchangeable, brands that forge emotional connections create impenetrable competitive moats. While features can be copied overnight, emotional bonds take years to build—and to break.

 

As the marketing sage Seth Godin puts it: “People don’t buy goods and services. They buy relations, stories, and magic.”

 

So stop counting your impressions and start measuring your imprints—on hearts, not just minds. Your CTR matters less than your ETR (Emotional Transfer Rate).

 

Because in the state of the heart branding, your emotional bank account ultimately determines your financial one. And unlike your cryptocurrency investments, this is one value that doesn’t crash overnight.

 

Patagonia telling customers “Don’t Buy This Jacket“was a masterstroke in anti-consumerist credibility. The brand proudly wields the megaphone on authenticity or bust.

 

In the Indian context, emotion is our native language. We’re a country where: “Mummy ke haath ka khaana” beats Michelin stars.  “Washing Powder Nirma” jingle still plays rent-free in our heads. “Thanda matlab Coca-Cola“made a cold drink feel like a family reunion. Mere paas maa hai” (from the film Deewar) still makes grown men weep. “Wah Taj!”isn’t just a tagline—it’s a national reflex. Tata Tea’s “Jaago Re“Sold chai + social change before woke was a marketing trend.

 

Brands that get India don’t just speak Hindi—they speak heart.

 

There are brands that have missed the emotional branding memo. Look at any bank that says in their ads ” We care ” and goes onto charge INR 500 for an EMI missed.

 

The Best Brands Don’t Sell—They Seduce. In a world of ad-blockers and subscription fatigue, the only brands that survive are the ones that make people feel something .  So ask yourself: Is your brand a vending machine… or a Valentine?  

 

Because let’s be real—nobody ever tattooed a discount coupon on their arm.

 

State of the Heart Branding doesn’t ask:“What does your product do?”
It asks: “What does your customer become by buying you?”

 

In closing, here’s the brand heart check up drill:-

 

Sell the feeling, not the function. Nobody buys a drill for a hole. They buy it to hang a memory.

 

Be emotionally promiscuous. Make people laugh, cry, nod, rage, remember.
If they feel nothing, they owe you nothing.

 

Don’t say it. Let them feel it. “Just Do It” is not an instruction. It’s a movement.

 

Design for desire, not demographics. Age, income, location? Meh.
How they want to feel? That’s the goldmine.

 

Your story is not the hero. Your customer’s transformation is. Make them the Shah Rukh. You just be the Yash Chopra behind the camera.

 

The uncomfortable truth is that most of us  do our best work when backed against a wall.

 

A resource famine is the bedrock of innovation. The greatest innovations in history came from people saying “We’ll have to make do” not “Let me check if there’s an app for that.” Case in point is the entire punk rock movement which was built on three chords and a middle finger to polished production. Compare that to today’s bedroom producers with infinite plugins who never finish a track.

 

Its ironical but it works:You know what kills creativity faster than your boss’s Monday morning Zoom voice? Unlimited time. Unlimited budget. Unlimited options. Too much of a good thing is…well, a lazy thing. But put a loaded gun to the head (metaphorically, of course), cut the time in half, steal the fancy tools, remove three team members, and BAM!
You’re suddenly Picasso with a paper napkin.

 

Remember college projects that took two months to “ideate” and 48 hours to actually finish? Exactly. You did in 2 days what you swore couldn’t be done in 60. Turns out, urgency is a better muse than “someday.” Deadlines don’t just kill procrastination. They whisper to your brain “Make it simple. Make it snappy. Make it now.” Shorter deadlines infuse sharper thinking. Period.

 

Ask any filmmaker about their first indie film. No drones. No VFX. No 78-member crew. Just duct tape, passion, and a stolen location. Result?
Raw. Real. Remarkable. (And sometimes Oscar-nominated.) Steve Jobs banned buttons. Twitter banned long sentences. IKEA banned normal furniture. Constraints force innovation. Fewer tools. Fewer distractions.More Magic.

 

Focus isn’t found. It’s forced by friction.

 

Some examples that stand out like an ice bucket bath include Twitter’s 280 character limit. Only to make it the birthplace of wit, sarcasm and political meltdowns. “Jaws” shark malfunction: Steven Spielberg had to imply terror instead of showing it. Result? One of the most suspenseful films ever. Ernest Hemingway wrote: “For Sale: Baby shoes. Never worn.”Six words. Gut-punch. Masterclass. Instagram Reels: You had 15–30 seconds. Not enough time to fake it—just enough to say something real.

 

Constraints kill perfectionism. And perfectionism kills everything.

 

Here’s a killer truth that we may not get to hear at a TEDx or Keynote. Unlimited time? Kills urgency. Unlimited tools? Kills imagination. Unlimited choices? Kills action. Want to make something frigging brilliant?
Tie one hand behind your back. Set your hair on fire.Then go build a castle with paper clips and spite.

 

Nothing sharpens focus like mild existential panic. Constraints force your brain to stop daydreaming and start doing. You don’t “ideate.” You execute.
Like a hungry assassin. With WiFi.

 

Michelangelo didn’t have Adobe. Da Vinci didn’t have ChatGPT (though he’d have abused it). And Jaws became iconic because the mechanical shark was so crap, Spielberg barely showed it. Necessity isn’t the mother of invention.
Lack-of-anything is. No budget? No time? No team? Perfect.
Welcome to the club where genius is forged in constraint-induced chaos.

 

Too much freedom is a black hole. Ever been to a buffet and left hungry? Yep. That’s what happens when you have too many options and no clarity. Creativity doesn’t need a runway.It needs a bloody cliff. The tighter the brief, the crisper the idea. The tighter the timeline, the faster you kill fluff.

 

We all are used to thinking that freedom was having unlimited options. Infinite time. Boundless resources. The whole enchilada with extra guacamole. Boy, are we spectacularly wrong!

 

 

At ISD Global whenever there is a project where the client said, “Do whatever you want, we trust you completely”? That was the one that paralyzed us for weeks. Yet give us a ridiculous deadline, a tight budget, and specific requirements, and suddenly we are working with the focus of a leopard stalking its dinner.

 

There’s actually profound science behind this. Psychologists call it the “paradox of choice” – when faced with too many options, we freeze up. Our brains evolved to make quick decisions with limited information, not to navigate infinite possibilities. Paradox of choice is also a seminal book by American psychologist Barry Schwartz.

 

Boundaries don’t block brilliance—they build it.

 

So here’s the beautiful irony: true creative freedom doesn’t come from limitless options. It comes from the focusing power of thoughtful constraints. Ernest Hemingway wrote some of his most powerful work using only short, simple sentences—a constraint he imposed on himself. Legendary photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson often used just one camera and one 50mm lens for decades, eliminating the distraction of equipment choices. Apple became the world’s most valuable company partly by offering fewer product options than competitors.

 

So, if you’ve ever cursed a tight deadline, a shoestring budget, or a restrictive brief, here’s why you should be thanking them instead.

 

Parkinson’s Law states: “Work expands to fill the time available.”Give yourself a week for a task, and it’ll take a week. Give yourself two hours? Somehow, you’ll make it happen.

 

When Picasso restricted himself to only shades of blue, he didn’t just paint—he revolutionized art. Constraints force us to dig deeper into what we do have instead of endlessly searching for more. Picasso’s Blue Period is a Masterclass in Limitation.

 

McDonald’s didn’t become a global empire by offering 100-item menus. They nailed one thing (fast, consistent burgers) and scaled it relentlessly. You might know about The “Microwave Instruction Manual”challenge: Engineers were asked to design a simpler microwave. The winning solution? A single button that just said “Start.”(Because let’s be honest—who actually uses the “Potato” setting?) . Instead of chasing endless possibilities, ask: “What’s the ONE thing this project absolutely needs?”Then do that brilliantly.

 

Picasso didn’t need 500 brushes. Hemingway didn’t need a thesaurus. And you? You don’t need that bloated software suite or that endless list of “productivity hacks.” Instagram blew up because it was stupidly simple. One filter. Square photos. No ads, no algorithms, no bullshit. Then? Feature creep turned it into a Franken-app.

 

Strip it down. Ruthlessly. Your creativity doesn’t live in your options—it thrives in your limitations.

 

Here’s a Cold Hard Fact: NASA’s Apollo 13 engineers had one frigging day to invent a CO2 scrubber from duct tape and socks. Your “impossible” client request? Please. Schedule your own execution dates. If the project doesn’t feel slightly impossible, you’re not pushing hard enough.

 

The Mona Lisa was painted with about 5 colors. Your palette has 16 million. Who’s the real artist here?

 

Here’s my last word: Creativity isn’t born in five-star brainstorming sessions with scented candles and vegan snacks. It’s born when you’re broke, cornered, under caffeinated, and two hours from disaster. You don’t rise despite the limits. You rise because of them.

 

So next time life throws you a constraint, don’t whine. Light a match.
And burn a goddamn masterpiece into the wall.

 

 

 

Dear Food Tech Unicorn Founders including but not restricted to Deepinder Goyal | Albinder Dhindsa | Saurabh Kumar | Sriharsha Majety | Hari Menon |  Aadit Palicha | Kalviya Vohra among others from Zomato | Swiggy |Zepto | Blinkit | Big Basket etc:

 

FAST. FURIOUS. FATAL?– A Love Letter to Our Unicorns on Two Wheels

 

 You brilliant minds who’ve revolutionized how India eats and shops – I’m in awe of your business acumen. Truly. And I’m grateful. The convenience economy you’ve built has transformed our lives in ways we couldn’t imagine a decade ago.

 

We see them everywhere. Those colorful troops of delivery warriors zigzagging through traffic like their smartphones contain the nuclear codes? I have. Daily. And let me tell you – it’s not just food they’re delivering; it’s a masterclass in creative traffic violations!

 

Yesterday, as I stood at a signal, I witnessed what can only be described as the “Delivery Olympics” – a Zomato rider slaloming between cars, a Swiggy compatriot treating the footpath as his personal expressway, and a Blinkit superhero who apparently believed red lights were merely festive decorations. The prize? A few minutes saved. The potential cost? Immeasurable.

 

But here’s my question, served hot and straight from the heart: Does the future of convenience need to be written in traffic violations and emergency room visits?

 

When your riders zip through neighborhoods without helmets, when they treat one-ways as suggestions rather than rules, when they view pedestrians as mobile obstacles in their delivery video game – we have to ask if the 10-minute delivery promise is worth its human cost.

 

We’ve become a society that can’t wait 15 minutes for food that took 30 minutes to prepare. We need our groceries NOW. We want our coffee YESTERDAY. And in this race to satisfy our impatience, your riders are being pushed to perform delivery miracles.

 

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: There are no miracles in traffic. There are only physics, vulnerability, and consequences.

 

When your rider zips past my car on the wrong side of the road, helmet-less with one hand on the handlebar and eyes on the GPS, I don’t see efficiency. I see someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s provider – taking risks that no meal or grocery delivery justifies. Does convenience have to come with collateral damage?

 

I am sure we can all see the irony of Customer First. You obsess over NPS, retention, and “delight metrics.” But what about the Safety NPS? The “please don’t die for my biryani“ metric?

 

Fact Is: A rider’s life > a 4.9-star delivery rating.

 

Some obvious red flags to look at here(both literally & figuratively):-

 

–No Helmets? Bro, even Tom Cruise wears one in Top Gun. Your riders aren’t Maverick—they’re humans with families.

–Jumping Signals? If red = green, maybe we should just let traffic lights “pivot“ into disco balls.

–Footpath Grand Prix? Pedestrians didn’t sign up for obstacle racing.

–Wrong-Side Driving? Newton’s third law: Every wrong-side rider will meet an angry biker head-on.

 

We love your apps. We love the dopamine hit of Maggi in 10 minutes. We love the convenience of hot food, cold beer, ice cream, condoms, and cornflakes—delivered faster than you can say “30 under 30.”

 

But here’s what we don’t love: Your delivery warriors—bless their hustle—riding like Vin Diesel in Fast & the Flouting Laws, part 97.

 

Red light? Just a suggestion.

Helmet? Optional fashion accessory.

Wrong side? Shortcut to productivity.

Footpath? Who needs pedestrians when you have a target to meet?

 

Every order comes with a free topping of adrenaline and a side of chaos. Are we trying to beat time, or beat death?

 

Let’s call it out: This is not “disruption.” This is destruction, dressed in algorithmic urgency.

 

Unicorns, here’s a thought.

You’ve built some of the most scalable, investable, headline-worthy businesses in the country.

But when did safety stop being part of the business model?

 

No OKR, no VC deck, no tech stack justifies a 19-year-old risking his spinal cord so I can get my chai latte before my Zoom call.

 

This is not logistics. It’s live-sticks—and they’re breaking.

 

Now don’t get me wrong—I’m not here to cancel convenience. I’m not the president of the “Bring Back the Dabbawalas” association. I’m just asking for a version update to your mission statements.

 

One that reads:

“Delighting Customers. Not Endangering Riders. And Other Lives”.

 

Imagine this:

–Helmets that are non-negotiable, not photo-ops.

-Delivery timelines that are realistic, not romanticised in pitch decks.

-Riders trained not just in swiping QR codes but also in respecting lanes and lives.

 

How about turning “10-minute delivery” into “10/10 empathy”? Can we be fast without being fatal?

 

To all the unicorn owners reading this—and I hope you are, if your LinkedIn filters include the word “impact”—you have the power to redefine hustle.

 

Because here’s the inconvenient truth: We are building the future of convenience on the broken bones of gig workers.

 

Let’s pivot. Let’s disrupt the idea that danger = delight.

 

After all, what’s the point of delivering biryani in 9 minutes if one can’t deliver basic human decency at all?

 

Let’s unbundle the madness.

Let’s decelerate the damage.

Let’s build unicorns that don’t leave behind hoof prints on highways.

 

And hey, we can do it with humor, grace, and better APIs.

 

I’ll still order from your apps.

 

And to us, the consumers feeding this beast with our impatience – perhaps we need to ask ourselves some questions too if we can make a strategic retreat from being a consumer to being a human:

 

-Is it worth risking someone’s life to get our paneer tikka 5 minutes faster?

-Can we bear to wait 20 minutes instead of 10 for our groceries if it means safer roads for everyone?

-What responsibility do we bear in this ecosystem of urgency?

 

Our convenience shouldn’t come at the cost of someone else’s safety. And unicorns: You didn’t just build companies—you built habits, expectations, and an entire ecosystem of urgency. Now, it’s time to build safety into the algorithm.

 

And if you permit me a bit of a stretch, here are some thoughts(say masala) for your next boardroom discussion:-

 

–Tech That Cares: GPS alerts for wrong-side riding, speed governors, mandatory helmet selfies.

 

–Incentivize Safety: Reward riders for safe deliveries, not just fast ones.

 

–Traffic Rule Bootcamps: Because knowing the difference between “No Entry” and “Challenge Accepted“ matters.

 

–Customer Education: Maybe a pop-up—“Your pizza can wait. Your rider’s life can’t”.

 

This isn’t a rant—it’s a reluctant love letter. I admire what you’ve built. But greatness isn’t just about valuation; it’s about values.

 

So, dear founders, here’s the challenge: Can you disrupt safety like you disrupted hunger?

 

Because right now, the only thing moving faster than your deliveries is the risk riding pillion.

 

I’m not suggesting we dismantle the beautiful convenience economy you’ve built. I’m simply asking for a recalibration – one that values human life above delivery metrics.

 

And no biryani, no matter how fragrant, no groceries, no matter how essential, are worth a life.

 

Stay Hungry. Stay Safe. Stay Awesome.

 

P.S. If this post saves one life, my job is done. If it gets me free Zomato Gold, well… that’s just karma.

 

Ever seen a pressure cooker?
It whistles not because it’s broken.
It whistles because it’s working.

 

Same with us.

 

Frustration is not a fault. It’s a feature. A sign that you’re alive, awake — and maybe, just maybe — that you’re made for something bigger than your current stuckness.

 

But here’s the tragedy:

Most of us treat frustration like a full stop.
When it’s just a comma. (And if you play it right, an exclamation mark!)

 

We’ve all been there – trapped in that swirling vortex where every setback feels like a personal attack from the universe. Your presentation freezes just as the CEO walks in. Your brilliant marketing campaign falls flat. The promotion goes to someone else. And suddenly, you’re not just experiencing frustration – you’re becoming it.

 

But here’s the truth bomb nobody drops when you’re knee-deep in your feelings: frustration is merely a visitor, not your identity.

 

Let’s go back in time a bit.

 

Take Michelangelo. Before he gave us the David, he spent months staring at a giant flawed block of marble that everyone else had rejected.Some days, he wanted to chuck the chisel and binge-watch Netflix (ok, maybe not- that is stretching it a bit too far). But he stayed with it. Not because the marble got easier. Because he got bigger than his frustration.

 

Flash-forward to you: That career stagnation? That relationship pothole? That gym scale that mocks you every morning? None of them define you. They just dare you.

 

You are not your missed promotions, your ghosted dates, your rejected pitches, or your stubborn waistline.You are the persistence that follows.
You are the poetry after the chaos.

 

At a brand level, here are two classic examples.

 

Remember when Apple almost went bankrupt in the ’90s?
Frustration was the company mascot.
Innovation took a sabbatical.
Relevance went out for cigarettes and never came back.

 

Then Steve Jobs returns.
iPod happens. iPhone explodes.
Apple stops selling just computers.
It sells dreams, defiance, and a different way of being.

 

Imagine if Apple had accepted its frustration as its obituary instead of its origin story.

 

Closer home, look at Amul. When global dairy brands were busy crying over spilt milk in India, Amul  cooperativized the chaos. Result: One frustrated dairy revolution later, Amul became the Taste of India — and stayed tastier than most global imports.

 

Frustrations don’t kill brands.Complacency does. Brands, like people, thrive when they reframe frustration as fuel. 

 

Netflix started as a DVD rental service annoyed by late fees. Their frustration birthed streaming.

 

Airbnb was born when two guys couldn’t pay rent and turned their loft into a makeshift B&B.

Slack emerged from a failed gaming company’s internal chat tool. Their “Plan B” is now a $27 billion “oops-we-accidentally-revolutionized-work” story.

Frustration isn’t a dead end—it’s a detour sign.  Frustration is proof you’re still playing the game.

 

Ever had one of those days where your Wi-Fi crawls slower than a snail on sedatives, your coffee spills on your crisp white shirt, and your boss forwards an email with just a “??” at 11 PM? Frustration, thy name is modern life.

But here’s the thing—your frustrations don’t define you. In fact, the gap between where you are and where you want to be? That’s where the magic happens.

 

The liberating truth is that your frustrations are data points, not destiny. They highlight what you care about, where you’re stretching, what needs reinvention. Stuck in traffic? Audiobooks turn gridlock into growth.
Clients ghosting you? Maybe your messaging needs more soul, less sales.
Social media chaos? Unfollow the noise; create your own signal.

 

Brands that Said “To Heck With This” and won:

– Nike: Started by a track coach pissed at crappy shoes. Now? “Just Do It” is a global war cry.

– Tesla: Elon Musk got laughed out of Detroit. Joke’s on them—he’s rewriting the rules of the road.

– WhatsApp: Jan Koum was so sick of missing calls, he built a $19 billion fix.

Moral? The bigger the pain, the harder the hustle.

 

Here’s something we conveniently forget during our most frustrated moments: biologically speaking, emotions are just temporary neurochemical states. They’re literally designed to pass.Yet when frustration comes knocking, we often give it a permanent address in our mental real estate. We all can do this biological reality check.

 

Frustration is just information in disguise. The question is: are you reading it right?

 

History doesn’t remember the competent people who never faced frustration. It remembers the obstinate die-harders who stared it down and refused to be defined by it:

 

Stephen King’s first novel was rejected 30 times. He threw it in the trash. His wife fished it out. That novel was “Carrie.”

 

Arianna Huffington was rejected by 36 publishers. One called her writing “unsaleable.” She later sold The Huffington Post for $315 million.

 

Howard Schultz  was rejected by 217 investors when trying to fund Starbucks.

 

Were they frustrated? Absolutely frigging devastated. Did they allow that frustration to become their identity? The evidence speaks for itself.

 

Even brands get stuck in traffic. Brands, like people, get frustrated. Product launches flop, campaigns tank, competitors sprint ahead. Cue the existential dread and a lot of “Why us?” in the boardroom. But frustration, when harnessed, is rocket fuel for reinvention.

 

Remember Michelin? A tire company that decided to rate restaurants. Logic said, “Stick to rubber.” Imagination said, “Let’s make dining an adventure.” Today, a Michelin Star is culinary gold, and the brand is synonymous with excellence far beyond tires. That leap didn’t come from comfort; it came from the friction of wanting to be more.

 

So the next time frustration comes knocking, don’t just answer the door-invite it in, offer it tea, and let it teach you a thing or two. Because you are more than your frustrations. You are the sum of your comebacks, not your setbacks. Choose Today.

 

I am not sure if this would sound like Aesops Fables.

 

 

Once upon a time, in a fluorescent-lit jungle full of cubicles, humans woke up, put on pants (sometimes), and went to places called “offices” where they… did things. They were called “employees.” They had bosses, parking spots, water cooler gossip, and an inexplicable addiction to Excel.

 

 

But that world? It’s dead. Buried somewhere between fax machines and annual appraisals.

 

 

Employment as we knew it is over. And no, this isn’t a LinkedIn humblebrag post about freelancing from Bali with a MacBook and a matcha latte.
This is a hard stare at reality, iced with a slice of truth and served with zero filters.

 

 

Let’s take a look at what has seen the ‘sell by expiry date ‘- The 9 to 5 rigmarole: It is now officially a punchline in Gen Z memes. The Org Chart: Aka the human zoo layout. Looks pretty. Does nothing. Loyalty to a logo:People are loyal to purpose, not pension plans. One Career Forever: That’s like committing to one brand of cereal for life. Madness.

 

 

Work is no longer a place you go to. It is a thing that you plug into. Companies now tap skills on demand — designers from Ukraine, coders in Bangalore, strategists in Madrid — all working on the same problem while never wearing pants. For eg look at Netflix’s global content team? Scattered across continents, united by Slack and sarcasm.

 

 

The emergence of a new class: The Creator Employee: Today’s talent doesn’t want to be owned. They want to create. And smart orgs? They encourage it.
Think of your team as a bunch of Netflix Originals, not reruns of a 90s sitcom. Duolingo’s social media team is a meme machine. People stay for the work, not for the job title.

 

 

The whole balance shtick assumes work and life are opponents.
They’re not. It’s a dance. Some days the DJ plays Beyoncé. Some days it’s tax audit blues.  Parents on Zoom calls with toddlers crashing in the background? That’s not unprofessional. That’s real. It is not work-life balance. It is work-life blending.

 

 

Employment is dead. But work? Work is more alive, electric, creative, and rebellious than ever. And the organisations that get it? They won’t be employers. They’ll be magnets.

 

 

So the rallying cry for wanting to be future-ready organisations would read something like this. Replace hierarchy with fluidity. Kill the idea of clocking in. Embrace outputs over hours. Don’t hire people to control them. Hire them to unleash them.  Offer meaning. Or offer ping pong tables. But don’t pretend the second is a substitute for the first. Hey organisations, adapt or go obsolete.

 

 

The needle has moved. If you cared to notice. You’re not building teams anymore. You’re curating energy. You’re not offering jobs. You’re offering journeys. Work isn’t a place. It’s a vibe. The cubicle is the new coffin. If your employees can’t create, they will quit. 

 

 

The future of work is so last decade. We are in the age of the task force, NOT work force. Talent doesn’t line up. It drops in. Executes. Vanishes like Batman. The smart organisations are killing time sheets and tracking impact instead. They are ditching office politics for async magic. Letting people work when they are most dangerous( yes, even at 2.27 am). Thy are building cultures of trust, not surveillance software.

 

The sooner we realise that employment is a 90s rom-com while work today is a Tarantino flick, the better. Employment is a leash. Work is a parachute. 

 

 

Employment is a fossil. Work is a festival. One’s stiff and regulated. The other’s wild, weird, and wonderfully alive.

 

 

So ask yourself: Are we a workplace… or a launchpad? Are we building cubicles… or communities? Do our people work for us… or do they come alive with us?

 

 

Choose wisely. The talent isn’t waiting. It’s swiping right on better options. Full-time employee is now Corporate Sanskrit.  People aren’t your resources, they’re your investors. Talent invests their creativity, network, reputation, and intellectual capital in your organization, and they expect appropriate returns – financial, developmental, purposeful, and lifestyle.

 

Your lens dictates your drama. Adjust focus accordingly.

 

The pessimist sees darkness in the tunnel.The optimist sees light at the end of the tunnel.The realist sees a train. The train driver sees three idiots standing on the tracks.

 

Welcome to Planet Perspective.There are many ways to view the world.Some people zoom in.Others zoom out.And some…well, they just hit “mute” on reality and stream their own episode of Life According to Me, Myself & I. And you know what? That’s not a bug. That’s a feature. Because how you see the world changes everything – your choices, your failures, your fashion sense (I’m looking at you, socks-and-sandals guy), and most importantly, your impact.

 

For example, take a look at the iconic Gulzar‘s writing for a moment: Where most see words as tools, he sees them as threads to stitch the soul. He doesn’t write songs. He writes emotional earthquakes in lowercase. “Humne dekhi hai un aankhon ki mehekti khushboo.” Come on, who sees fragrance in eyes? Only someone who isn’t colorblind to feelings. Yup. Smell. In eyes. Try that on your ChatGPT and see it throw a syntax tantrum. Point is: Genius is just seeing the world through a different filter.

 

Reframing isn’t just a brand positioning or therapy term. When life hands you lemons, do you…make lemonade? Ask for salt and tequila? File a lawsuit for emotional citrus trauma? You choose. Always. Perspective is the original, OG Augmented Reality. No headset required. Just a mindset upgrade. When life gives you lemons, squeeze them over ribs and call it gourmet!

 

What we need to delete in hyper hurry including but not restricted to: ” This is how it’s always been done.” — The world’s most boring epitaph. “Let’s play it safe.” — Translation: Let’s park our creativity in a coma.“What will people say?” — Usually uttered right before nothing legendary ever happens.

 

The world is not what it is. It is how you look at it. Same world. Different eyeballs. Some people see crisis. Others see startup ideas. One person sees rain and cancels plans. Another sees it as free car wash and emotional background score.

The world is not just a place; it’s a perspective. It’s a kaleidoscope of possibilities, a playground of interpretations, and sometimes, a stage for rib-tickling humor. Whether you’re gazing at the horizon or scrolling through your social media feed, the way you view the world is what shapes your narrative. And guess what? It can be as racy, provocative, and inspiring as you want it to be.

 

Imagine this: two people standing on the same beach. One sees a breathtaking sunset painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. The other grumbles about sand in their shoes. Same scene, different lenses.Life is like that—your view is your choice, your story.

 

Most of us are trapped in perspectives so restrictive we make Victorian corsets look like freedom wear. We are intellectual virgins claiming to be worldly – peeking at life through a keyhole while pretending we’ve seen the whole orgy.

 

So the narrative we need to be telling ourselves is: Currently in an open relationship with multiple perspectives. Because, monogamy is for the intellectually insecure.

 

F. Scott Fitzgerald famously wrote: “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless yet be determined to make them otherwise.” Cognitive dissonance if you may. It is the Mental 69 of holding two opposing views simultaneously.

 

Most of us treat perspectives like monogamous relationships – we commit to one and defend it to the death. Try intellectual polyamory instead. When facing any situation, force yourself to hold two completely contradictory perspectives simultaneously: That coworker who drives you insane? They’re both an insufferable narcissist AND potentially your greatest teacher. That failed project? It’s both a humiliating disaster AND the setup for your greatest comeback story.

 

Your brain will resist this mental pretzel position at first, but stick with it. The tension between opposing viewpoints creates a friction zone where your best insights are born.

 

Whatever your instinctive perspective on an issue, completely flip your default position– so, saddle up and ride it in the opposite direction. If you’re a capitalism-loving entrepreneur, spend a day deeply considering how communal ownership might solve problems. If you’re a tech-loving futurist, consider how returning to ancestral practices might heal modern ailments.

 

When facing a problem, invoke specific people (real or fictional) and view it through their eyes. Bring a third-party into your thinking. How would your grandmother approach your career dilemma? What would Batman do about your noisy neighbors? How would Marie Kondo organize your conflicting priorities?

 

Here’s the raw truth: your perspective isn’t who you are – it’s just what you’re wearing to the party right now. And like any outfit, you can change it whenever you want. Most people treat their worldview like it’s surgically attached to their identity, when really it’s more like those snap-on collars priests wear – functional but completely removable.

 

The most dangerous words in any language are “that’s just how I see things.” It’s the intellectual equivalent of announcing you’ve retired from growth and are now comfortable being mentally constipated for the remainder of your existence.

 

So if you permit me to throw a filthy challenge: For the next week, mentally undress from your default perspective daily and try on something inappropriate, revealing, and possibly illegal in several southern states. View your job through the eyes of a high-end escort. Consider your family dynamics from the perspective of a cult leader. Approach your fitness goals like a victorian-era explorer discovering new territories. Then notice how your mental groin muscles feel – deliciously sore in ways you didn’t know were possible.

 

The world isn’t just black and white. It’s a kaleidoscope of delusions, genius, and outright absurdity—often all at once. Buckle up. We’re about to take a joyride through perspectives so wild, they’ll make your GPS quit in protest.

 

Breaking news: Your best ideas are being held in a conservative boarding school. Jailbreak thoughts follow!

 

Yes, you heard right. Your grandma once turned leftover rice into an almost Michelin 7-course meals, made sweaters from scrap wool, and managed a household budget with the precision of NASA. She didn’t call it “Design Thinking.” She called it Wednesday. Yes, her. The original OG of Wide-Open Thinking. Was Marie Kondo before it was cool. Did lean innovation in a 2 Bedroom Hall Kitchen with 7 kids and no YouTube tutorials.

 

Wide open thinking urges you to leave your mind to find the magic. If your mind were a door, would it be a revolving one letting all sorts of wild ideas spin through, or more like that heavy medieval thing with the giant padlock that hasn’t been oiled since the Dark Ages?

 

Hey there, fellow brain-owners! Here’s attempting another slice of mental nutrition that’ll have your neurons(hopefully) doing the electric slide. Let’s dive diving into the cosmic pool of wide-open thinking–that delicious state where your mind is less like a filing cabinet and more like a trampoline park for ideas.

 

Most of us walk around with our thinking wrapped in mental Spanx – everything squeezed into acceptable shapes, no room for the jiggly bits that make life interesting. We’ve been programmed since kindergarten to color inside the lines, give the “right” answers, and for heaven’s sake, don’t be the weirdo who suggests we could solve traffic problems with trained dolphins. (Though honestly, I’d like to see the feasibility study on that one.)

 

Picture this: You are in a meeting where what was needed was a fresh approach to customer service strategy. The room was quieter than a library during a power outage. Finally, you blurt out, “What if we treated every customer complaint like a marriage proposal?” Confused stares ensue. But then something magical happens – people started riffing:

 

“We’d need to get down on one knee…” “We’d have to consider it an honor they chose us…” “We’d remember every anniversary of the complaint…”

 

That ridiculous metaphor unlocks a completely fresh perspective. By dinner, you had overhauled your entire response protocol with genuine appreciation at its core.

 

Wide-open thinking isn’t just about being random – it’s about creating space for connections that your tightly-wound, efficiency-obsessed mind would normally filter out.

 

Mental nudity is a thinking style that they don’t want you to try. Let’s cut the foreplay: most of us are thinking with our clothes on. We’ve been intellectually domesticated, taught to keep our wildest ideas properly covered and never flash our most provocative thoughts in public. We sit in meetings like mental virgins, terrified someone might notice our unorthodox bulges of creativity.

 

Intellectual promiscuity is a virtue. Our brain should sleep around with ideas from completely unrelated fields. Ever thought about the connection that brand Michelin(the tyre company) would have with fine dining and chefs? The connection makes no sense to our hardwired for default set up mind until suddenly it’s the best idea they’ve ever had, clothes off, lights on.

 

Here’s the dirty truth, friends: our brain came factory-equipped with all these kinky capabilities, but somewhere along the way, society convinced you that intellectual modesty was the way to get ahead. It’s like owning a top-shelf pleasure palace but only using the guest bathroom.

 

Wide-open thinking isn’t some exotic technique – it’s your natural state before the world made you put your mental pants on. Your childhood self knew it. That uncensored kid would announce that clouds looked like butts and ask why the neighbor’s breath smelled like daddy’s special juice. That kid wasn’t worried about intellectual decorum. Wide-open thinking isn’t just mental skinny-dipping – it’s about removing the chastity belt from your creativity and letting it get properly satisfied.

 

It is playing the ‘ what-if ‘ game with gay abandon. What if gravity worked in reverse every Tuesday? What if we solved this like we were pirates? Time travelers? Kindergartners? The magic happens not in the absurdity but in the connections your brain makes while romping through these mental playgrounds.

 

Toymaker, inventor, and author Roger von Oech on wide-open thinking: “The amount a person uses their imagination is inversely proportional to the amount of punishment they will receive for using it.”

 

The quickest way to slam shut an open mind is with “but,” “however,” or “that won’t work.” Instead, try responding to ideas – even the seemingly bonkers ones – with “Yes, and…” Watch what happens when you water seeds instead of stamping on them.

 

Multiple gratifications that emerge from wide-open thinking includes but not restricted to problems dissolving by themselves even before you begin to tackle them. Because instead of starting at the four walls, you are seeing around corners. As Rita McGrath puts it, when spring sets in and snow begins to melt, it melts at the edges as that is where it is most exposed. Your dopamine and joy levels skyrocket simply because you are making connections that nobody has thought of before. And not in the least, you become a magnet for other interesting humans. Open-minded people find each other like those weird fish with the glowing bulbs on their heads find mates in the deep sea. It’s science. So permit yourself this intellectual debauchery, as often as possible.

 

Ever had one of those days when your brain feels like it’s running on Windows 95? You stare at a problem, blink like an over caffeinated owl, and think,“Surely, there’s a better way… or at least a funnier one?”
That’s when Wide-Open Thinking barges in—wearing a Hawaiian shirt, holding a margarita, and asking, “Why so serious?” Wide-Open Thinking is the art of ditching the mental guardrails and letting your brain do double somersaults.

 

So, here’s the deal, a Cosmic Close, if you may-our brain came with all these fantastic features pre-installed, but somewhere along the way, somebody convinced us to operate at minimum capacity. It’s like owning a Ferrari but never taking it out of first gear. Wide-open thinking isn’t something you need to learn – it’s something you need to remember. Your five-year-old self was an expert at it. That kid knew that a cardboard box could be a spaceship on Tuesday and a submarine on Wednesday. That kid wasn’t worried about looking foolish or wasting time on impractical ideas.

 

Wide-Open Thinking is giving your inner rebel a megaphone. It’s ignoring “best practices”– because nothing revolutionary ever came from a PowerPoint slide titled “Synergistic Paradigm Shifts.” It is Leaning into the absurd– Like pitching a “Netflix for Naps”startup and accidentally inventing the next billion-dollar laziness economy.  Or Laughing in the face of “professionalism”– If your brainstorming session doesn’t include at least one idea that makes HR nervous, you’re doing it wrong.

 

Wide-open thinking isn’t just a mindset—it’s a lifestyle upgrade. So ditch your mental sweatpants and start stretching your brain in ways that make life richer, funnier, and infinitely more rewarding. Remember: Someday isn’t a day—it’s just never wearing a tuxedo. Choose Today.

 

 

 

You know what’s harder than climbing Everest? Preparing to climb Everest.

 

The average over-preparer will buy 17 books on mountain climbing (“Gotta understand the theory of altitude sickness!”), join 8 Facebook Groups( the hunt is on for Who will be my Sherpa?), do a 6-month course on Nepalese weather patterns (“Monsoon isn’t the vibe, bro”) and lets not forget Get custom-made thermal underwear (“Swiss technology, if you may”). Meanwhile,  the doer? They’re already at Base Camp, sipping coffee, posting a selfie with the caption: Cold AF. Worth it.  The moral of the story here is- you’re either doing the thing or becoming a Wikipedia page about the thing. Period.

 

Preparation is the adult version of “5 more minutes”when your mom dragged you out of bed for school. Preparation becomes a place to hide. Here’s the filthy truth about preparation: it’s intellectual masturbation. All of the pleasure of productivity with none of the mess or commitment of actually producing something. It’s the productivity equivalent of swiping through dating profiles at 2 AM while eating ice cream in bed—exciting possibilities with zero risk of actual human contact. Where you are a mute but willing spectator of a strip tease show called ” almost ready “.

 

I once spent so long researching the perfect morning routine that the sun literally set and rose again. There I was, bleary-eyed at dawn, reading about the benefits of sleep while actively destroying my own. The irony was not lost on me, but the productivity high was too good to resist.

 

We are all familiar with these eternal preparers: The Gym Bro – Researches keto vs. paleo for 11 months. Unfortunately, still looks like a boiled potato. The Entrepreneur– Attends 47 webinars on “mindset.” Startup? “Next financial year. The Writer – Buys a ₹15k ergonomic chair, Moleskine, and 12 highlighters. Page 1: “Chapter 1… maybe.

 

Meanwhile the doers aka Steve Jobs – Didn’t take a “How to Be Visionary” course. Just built Apple in a garage. Or SRK– Didn’t wait for “perfect looks.” Just became King Khan with one crooked smile. The universe doesn’t give a damn about our 5-year plan. It only rewards movement.

 

The world doesn’t reward your potential. It rewards our output. Nobody claps for the warm-up act. They’re waiting for the main event. So address the FOMO( Fear of Making Output).

 

There are two species out there. The “ Screw it, let’s do it” gang. And, the “ Wait, I need a vision board, mood board, Pinterest board, and four lattes” crew. You know which one builds rockets. You know which one’s still stuck on Canva.

 

So, Attention Please: You can’t Netflix your way into purpose. You can’t TED Talk your way into momentum. And you sure as hell can’t “plan” your way out of a rut.

 

Doing > Dreaming.
Starting > Strategizing.
Failing fast > Finessing forever.

 

The brutal truth is that the world doesn’t need your prep. It needs your punch. Nobody’s hiring for “potential.” They’re hiring for people who show up, screw up, and still level up.

 

You can’t go viral in your drafts folder, can you? When you’re preparing, you’re still the hot, mysterious stranger at the bar of life. Your idea is still the untouched fantasy, perfect in every way. The moment you start doing, you risk the morning-after reality: your idea has flaws, execution leaves you sweaty and uncertain, and you might—clutch thin air—need to improve through failure.

 

Preparation has an expiration date. Prepare enough to not be completely reckless, then dive in. The water might be cold, you might splash awkwardly, but at least you’ll be swimming while everyone else is still reading “The Ultimate Guide to Perfect Pool Entry Techniques.” So what are you going to DO today, not just prepare to do? Whatever it is—that email you’re drafting in your head, that conversation you’re rehearsing, that project gathering dust—consider this your sign. Close the preparation tab. Open the doing tab.  Your idea is DOA if it never leaves your head. No one claps for your to-do list. They clap when sh*t’s DONE.

 

I’ll be right here, not preparing to cheer you on, but actually cheering you on.

 

Your Call to Uncomfortably Awesome Action: Launch that blog. Even if it’s ugly. Post that video. Even if your lighting sucks. Write that book. Even if your grammar limps. Propose that idea. Even if it’s half-baked. Because newsflash: You’ll bake it better once it’s out in the world’s oven.

 

Now go do the thing, you magnificent human. Because your idea just called. It wants a pulse, not a plan.

 

Some final words from the gospel of GSD(Get Shit Done)–Life is a buffet. Preparing is just staring at the menu. Dig in. Chew loud. Make a mess. Repeat.

 

The chronic someday syndrome is where dreams go to indefinitely detained.

 

Someday is just a fancy word for ‘never‘ in a tuxedo, winking at you while it steals your life one postponed dream at a time. If broken promises were currency, our ‘someday‘ collection would make us the Jeff Bezos of disappointment.

 

Ah, someday. That magical land where all your fitness goals, passion projects, and tough conversations live happily ever after…while you binge another series on Netflix. The greatest love story ever told isn’t Romeo and Juliet—it’s you and your undying passion for the word someday.

 

The Someday Club is that exclusive organization where the membership fee is paid in unfulfilled dreams and the only activity is kicking cans down increasingly lengthy roads.

 

The problem with someday is that it’s the most crowded day of the week. Everyone’s got big plans for someday. Calendars around the world have someday completely booked until approximately the heat death of the universe.

 

If economists could measure the GDP of Someday Land( let’s call it the Someday Economy), it would dwarf the actual economy. Billions of unwritten books, un started businesses, unlearned skills, and unfulfilled dreams—all safely stored in the vault of “I’ll get to it later.”

 

The psychology of perpetual postponement is what makes someday so seductive. It gives us all the emotional benefits of commitment without any of the sweaty, uncomfortable work of actually doing something. It’s like ordering a treadmill and feeling healthier just because the confirmation email is sitting in your inbox.

Someday is just ‘never‘ wearing a fancy outfit and cologne. Someday is cognitive cocaine. It gives you all the dopamine of achievement without any of the inconvenient sweating or potential failure. Why actually write that novel when thinking about writing it gives you nearly the same neurological satisfaction? It’s like relationship status: “It’s complicated”—except you’re in a toxic relationship with your own ambitions.

 

My friend—let’s call him “most people I know including myself”—has been talking about starting a podcast since 2018. He’s researched microphones. Created episode outlines. Designed logos. Practiced his radio voice. Even registered domain names. Everything except actually recording a single episode.

 

Why? Because in the magical land of someday, his podcast is already as successful as Joe Rogan’s without him having to face the soul-crushing reality that his first episodes would sound like a drunk walrus learning to speak English.

 

The entire scalable industrial complex( read productivity app industry) thrives on our collective delusion that downloading another task management app will finally transform us into the organized, focused achievers we pretend to be on LinkedIn. We don’t want actual productivity; we want the brief high of feeling like we might be productive… someday. Self-help gurus understand this too well—they’ve built billion-dollar empires selling the dream of “someday” without the uncomfortable accountability of “today.”

 

Assume that the book you have always wanted to write is parked in the expensive parking lot of someday real estate . Till the painful awakening about your “someday” novel, you write this in your journal: “I don’t actually want to write a book. I want to have written a book, preferably without the actual writing part, so I can casually mention it at parties and in my Instagram bio.” That humiliating admission will free up mental real estate that you’d been paying mortgage on for years.

 

That inspiring quote about ‘following your dreams’ doesn’t work if you schedule all your dreams for the fictional 8th day of the week. Why do we worship at the altar of later? Because “now” feels messy. Inconvenient. Sweaty. Now means facing the terror of a blank page. Now means moving your behind instead of moving your mouth. Now means taking the leap without the comfort of soft landing sponsored by Excel spreadsheets and SWOT analyses. We romanticize someday because it gives us permission to not do the damn thing today. It’s the emotional version of hitting “Snooze” on your life.

 

Someday is a scam because it never shows up. Because life keeps throwing better parties—urgent bills, performance reviews, in-laws, IPL finals. You name it.You’re not lazy. You’re just overbooked by BS. And someday is the bouncer who keeps your dreams outside the club.

 

J.K. Rowling could’ve said, “Someday I’ll write about that boy wizard.”But she chose “Platform 9¾ Today.” Colonel Sanders started KFC at 65. Imagine if he waited till someday when his arthritis would’ve flared up worse than hot wings. Your neighbourhood yoga instructor, the one who quit a corporate job to teach breath work to burnt-out bankers? Yeah, she strangled her someday with a resistance band and went full Namaste on the Now.

 

You don’t need a sign.You don’t need a guru.You don’t even need motivation. You need a tiny act of courage disguised as an email, a decision, a draft, or a deep breath.

 

Because the brutal truth is:“Someday is not a day. It’s a decision.”

 

And Today called. It wants to be useful.

 

Most of us behave as if we have an infinite number of tomorrows. Truth is our tomorrows are finite. So, get ready to Die Empty!

 

We have all been through this.You’re doom-scrolling through Twitter while your partner tells you about their terrible day. You nod, mumble “that sucks,” and keep thumbing through the endless feed of outrage. Sound familiar? Congratulations, you’re part of the empathy crisis that’s turning us all into emotional zombies.

 

Time to get real for a hot second. We’ve become so obsessed with optimizing our productivity, curating our Instagram aesthetic, and arguing with strangers online that we’ve forgotten how to do the one thing that actually makes us human: genuinely connecting with other people.

 

And the kicker? Empathy isn’t just some fluffy, feel-good concept for greeting cards. It’s a strategic advantage that can transform your career, relationships, and impact on the world. So listen up, because your emotional intelligence might be the only thing AI can’t replace about you. Yet, we are drowning in what one can call empathy drought.

 

In a world obsessed with IQ, armed with KPIs, and addicted to ROI, empathy is that quiet rebel sneaking out the back door… just before the team implodes.

 

Let’s look truth in the eye and get this out of the way: Contrary to perception, empathy is not a weakness, it is a frigging superpower. But most boardrooms treat it like lactose intolerance. A nuisance best avoided.

 

Introspect a bit here:- You’ve optimized funnels, automated workflows, A/B tested till your soul gave up. But when was the last time you gave a damn?

 

In a time when we can DM a stranger across the globe but struggle to connect with the person sitting next to us, empathy is more than a virtue—it’s survival gear. It’s what makes us human in an age of algorithms. Yet, practicing empathy feels as rare as spotting a tiger in the Sundarbans.

 

Take this: A recent study among Indian medical students found that empathy correlates positively with social support and negatively with stress. In other words, the more you care for others, the less likely you are to burn out yourself. Yet, empathy isn’t just for doctors or therapists; it’s for everyone who interacts with another human being—which is all of us.

 

The great irony is that everyone wants empathy. Will also secretly admit that it is(can be) a superpower. Yet, it is the one thing that gets severely under funded. We fund features. We fund “growth hacks.” We fund consultants who say “synergy” without flinching. We all say we want it in leaders, brands, lovers, friends. But when it comes to action—time, budgets, energy—empathy gets ghosted like a bad Tinder date. At work, we train for agility, we reward productivity, we chase efficiency… But who’s rewarding understanding? We promote the loudest voice in the room. Not the one who listened hardest.

 

Empathy? “Umm, sounds nice. But can we circle back Q3?”

 

Sure. By then, your customers will have circled back to someone who gives a damn.

 

If you think empathy is kumbaya with a corporate lanyard, you are horribly mistken. Time to call it out. Empathy is not sympathy in a suit. It’s not hugging it out at offsites. Empathy is actionable emotion. It’s insight with heart. It’s “walking a mile in someone else’s shoes” and then redesigning those shoes so they don’t hurt anymore. Look at Airbnb. When they shifted from “book a home” to “Belong anywhere,” they went from transaction to transformation. Result? IPO fireworks and loyalists who treat it like religion. Unilever’s Dove Campaign for Real Beauty? That’s empathy rewriting beauty standards. They didn’t market soap. They cleaned up the beauty industry’s self-esteem issues. And if you think empathy doesn’t belong in B2B… ask Hubspot or Zoho. They aren’t selling SaaS. They’re selling understanding. Wrapped in dashboards.

 

If you’re in marketing, branding, leadership, education, parenting, politics, therapy, or customer service, your biggest competitive edge is not strategy.
It’s empathy. Because strategy without empathy is just manipulation wearing cologne.

 

Empathy is NOT a hug in an HR workshop. Empathy is not namaste-flavored fluff. It’s not about being “nice.” It’s about being dangerously human. It’s: tuning in before you blurt out. Creating before calculating. Listening like your stock options depend on it. Real empathy walks into the room, flips the PowerPoint, and asks, “Why do we even exist for these people?”If that makes you sweat, good. That’s your humanity trying to reboot.

 

Brands like Nike, Apple, Dove, Airbnb don’t just sell. They understand.
And that’s why you give them your time, your money, and disturbingly, your loyalty.

 

Let’s zoom out for a moment. In Japan, Toyota’s leadership famously practices nemawashi, a decision-making process that involves consulting everyone affected by a decision before it’s made. Why? Because understanding others’ perspectives leads to better outcomes. Contrast this with Silicon Valley’s “move fast and break things” mantra, which often leaves empathy lying in the rubble.

 

If you pick up the cultural kaleidoscope, empathy looks different everywhere. Empathy isn’t one-size-fits-all; it wears different hats across cultures. In India, it might mean sharing your tiffin box with a colleague who forgot their lunch. In Scandinavian countries, it shows up as Janteloven, an unspoken law of humility and equality that fosters collective well-being.

 

But here’s the kicker: cultural empathy isn’t just about adapting to others; it’s about expanding your own worldview. As Forbes put it, “Empathy takes you beyond cultural understanding; it builds tolerance and appreciation for diversity”.

 

Empathy Is Contagious—Start the Epidemic. It is the Wi-Fi signal that connects us all. Because, the world doesn’t need more opinions—it needs more understanding.

Empathy is the most undervalued skill in a room full of overpaid people. So, don’t just scale. Feel something. Because, empathy is not a KPI—it’s the whole damn strategy. Where less data and more damn is the motto and the mojo. Where the act of listening is the most sought after( but not practiced) skill in the boardroom. Empathy doesn’t scream, it wins quietly. Then takes over everything. So sell less, feel more. Repeat.

 

So, here’s the deal: Empathy isn’t just about being kind; it’s about being smart. It builds trust, strengthens relationships, and even boosts your own happiness. So whether you’re leading a team or just trying to survive family WhatsApp groups, remember this: finding empathy isn’t hard—it’s just human.

 

In a world algorithmically optimized for attention but bankrupt on connection, empathy is your unfair advantage. It’s not just smart business.
It’s soulful capitalism. So the next time you enter a meeting, a pitch, a conversation— Don’t just bring your slides. Bring your spine. Bring your self-awareness. Bring your empathy.

 

Because, everything else is just PowerPoint foreplay.