Cricket Diplomacy

“Let’s schedule a cricket match between SBI and CISF,” one of my teammates suggested.

For a long time, I had been looking for a way to interact with CISF staff members. My team was pushing to organize some activity. Initially, we discussed a marathon. I wasn’t inclined toward it. A marathon requires immense mental preparation even before you start running. I wasn’t confident about the administrative arrangements either.

Then someone suggested cricket.

It was like a bulb lighting up in my head.

Honestly, it was less about the viability of the match and more about my desire to play cricket again.

As a child, I dreamed of playing cricket for India. In 2007, my father discouraged the idea, citing my studies. I gave up on that dream. I continued to play in engineering college. I was the opening bowler. I loved the movement of the ball — the swing, the rhythm, the skill. I fell in love with bowling.

But I cannot claim I was highly skilled.

The idea of an SBI vs CISF match reignited something inside me. I imagined myself taking charge and leading the team.

So we finalized the event. We coordinated dates. We even went for practice before the match. That’s when reality hit me.

My 2007 version was gone.

There was no pace. No swing. No stamina. No physical fitness — not just for me, but for most of the team. I was happy just holding the ball again, but performance was nowhere close to my expectations.

Initially, we thought of booking a proper ground. After seeing our limitations, we settled for a small school turf.

Then came the real challenge — the opposition.

The CISF team was young and visibly fit. The difference was obvious. The SBI team looked ordinary in comparison.

We played two ten-over matches. We lost both. One-sided.

After the match, something shifted inside me.

I felt deep sadness.

My body ached. I was physically exhausted and mentally low. I even thought — cricket was a bad idea.

It felt like meeting your ex-girlfriend after years.

Self-doubt followed.

I had led the team to a loss. I didn’t perform to my own expectations. Yes, I bowled decently and took two wickets in the first match. But it wasn’t enough. I lacked the skill to influence the result.

The outcome felt like a reflection of my job performance — the desire to win without building the required skills.

The physical pain was manageable. The guilt was not.

The match reminded me of a lost dream. And playing the match reminded me that I had truly lost it. Even in solitude, I could not become the best version I once imagined.

But there was another side.

My wife and my two-year-old son attended the match. My son was excited, constantly shouting, “Pappa, I want to play with you!” That gave me immense joy.

My wife later told me she had never seen this side of me before — aggressive, assertive, leading publicly.

Those were non-playing wins.

But still — we lost.

These days, everything feels more about intangibles because tangible wins seem out of reach. I keep asking myself — do intangibles really matter? Does customer satisfaction matter if revenue isn’t coming in?

For now, I am accepting the positive interpretations of intangibles. But somewhere inside, I remain doubtful about their true utility.

Path to Fire – Dealing with Anxiety

Yesterday was a holiday. I work in a government organisation, so I was officially on leave. But my customers were not. I dislike this position. The reason is simple — customers keep calling for their work. On a holiday, I don’t hold any real power. I cannot act. I cannot move things forward. And I feel powerless. That powerlessness elevates anxiety.

My life truly revolves around anxiety. I spend a lot of time either suffering through it, running away from it, or trying to figure out how to deal with it.

My ambition, combined with incompetence in a few specific areas, inaction at times, and ignorance at others, results in anxiety. For more than 14 years, I tried to address this anxiety without seeking real help. After 14 years, two things changed in my life, and they reduced my anxiety significantly.

First, I sought help. I met a therapist and spoke with him. His support was initially generic, but simply addressing my loneliness and talking openly about my anxiety helped me deal with nearly 85% of it.

Second, I started using ChatGPT in coach mode. I began observing myself and discussing the state I was in.

I realised that I have an innate desire to talk about my issues. Simply talking about them — even with AI — has created tremendous positive change over the last few months. Loneliness is the key issue. Even when we are connected, we are deeply lonely.

We are surrounded by expectations, not support. We are judged by what we deliver and the promises we make. External validation ends up leading our lives. For the last 14 years, I did the same. Anxiety led to confusion, paralysis, and inaction. That led to pressure, stress, and even more anxiety. Running away from it felt obvious — but it was the wrong choice.

Self-confidence is a quality. I am skilled, but I am not self-confident. Or maybe I am self-confident only when I am alone. In power dynamics, I hesitate to assert myself. I just returned from a big event where I chose to hide behind a large chair so my seniors wouldn’t notice me. Maybe I don’t want to disappoint them. Or maybe I am already disappointed in myself.

I know I am working genuinely hard toward my goals. But the effort does not always reflect in numbers. Sometimes it does. Yet I define myself more by my failures than by my successes.

Perhaps this is also because success feels natural to me. Whatever I have achieved, I achieved without extreme effort, so I do not value it much. But my failures feel personal. I worked hard at them, and despite the effort, I failed. Or at least I feel that I worked hard and still failed.

Right now, I have one open loop pending. As always, I am avoiding it. I am fully aware that ignoring it will eventually create serious problems. I am still a man in the making. I have become more sensitive to daily tasks. I am using templates to manage pending work. I am taking conscious efforts to prevent tasks from piling up. Yet I am still struggling to stay afloat against my past behavior.

Hopefully, I will find my path to fire.

30-30-30-10 – Formula for Future Wealth

Seriously – Who Doesn’t Want More Money?

Everyone does.

But beyond that universal desire, most of us are not clear about how to make money or how to build wealth.

Let me confess something.

I damaged my finances for years because of one idea — my childhood desire to become an entrepreneur.

Apart from the word “entrepreneur” and the charisma attached to it, I never really understood what entrepreneurship meant. In my head, entrepreneurship meant money. So I believed that one day I would be an entrepreneur and have a lot of money. If that was my future, why should I care about the few thousand rupees I was earning as salary today?

I was so certain about my future that I sacrificed my present.

Investing? I thought it was nonsense. Slow growth didn’t excite me. Warren Buffett? Yes, he’s great. But I didn’t care. Why should I, when I believed I would “build” my wealth? I don’t earn money — I make money. That was my mindset.

Those ideas cost me.

I am 35. I am salaried. And I struggle with money.

I can play smart. I can write well. I can code. I can read complicated material. I can teach. I can speak publicly. I can do many things.

But I am severely bad at one thing — retaining and growing money.

I earn a good salary. I burn it.

I don’t track my spending properly. Credit cards feel like monsters hiding under my bed. I want to get rid of them — but I don’t even want to look under the bed. I am afraid of what I might find there.

But this year, I am committed.

This month, I will clear all credit card debt. Three loans will remain, but they are secured against my future salary. So I’ve decided to follow a simple structure.

Whatever salary I receive:

30% to index funds
30% to household expenses (given to my wife to manage)
30% to an emergency fund
10% to charity

The moment the salary hits my account, it will be divided into these buckets and transferred immediately.

No drama. No delay. No overthinking.

This year, I am moving from insecurity to financial stability.

I’ve also realised something uncomfortable — I am afraid of money.

It sounds irrational, but it’s true.

If I imagine receiving my salary in cash, how should I feel? Excited? Proud? I should. But I don’t. I feel anxious. I immediately think about how to get rid of it. That has been my pattern.

I am afraid of holding money.

This year, I am addressing that fear.

It is a deeply conditioned response. I have changed other behaviours. I started working out. I trek regularly. I stopped drinking alcohol. But this fear of money — I never addressed it because I was never aware of it.

Now I am.

I have become more sensitive to my emotions and how they shape my life. Money, like many people, has been a trouble spot for me. So I will take small, consistent actions to fix it.

Yes, I am still attracted to the dream of becoming an entrepreneur. But I am no longer willing to sacrifice today for a fantasy tomorrow.

I am choosing discipline over delusion.

I will revisit this article on the 26th of every month to hold myself accountable.

No more romanticising wealth.

Now — I build it.

Smoking – The Biggest Health Deterrent

I keep asking myself — why do I smoke?

Until yesterday, I didn’t have a clear answer.

I hate smoking. I especially hate it after I’ve finished a cigarette. Before that, I crave it. But smoking has never truly helped me achieve anything.

To smoke, I have to get up and walk at least half a kilometre to a place where I can do it. I stand in the sun. Dry leaves fall around me. I return smelling terrible. Then I walk back into my comfortable, air-conditioned office and awkwardly attend to customers and colleagues, fully aware that I smell like smoke.

And I repeat this cycle again and again — just for “relief.”

Logically, I know that if I spent the same amount of time dealing with a difficult task, I would probably resolve it. That would benefit me and my customers. Yet I still choose smoking — an activity I dislike and that makes me dislike myself.

Yesterday, after closing some major open loops, I finally had mental space to think.

The simplest answer appeared: loneliness.

I feel extremely lonely at my workplace.

It is a strange kind of loneliness. My problems feel unique — at least to me. I am responsible for outcomes. I am accountable. But I find it difficult to talk about my problems. People don’t relate. Those in similar positions aren’t interested. My team members and juniors don’t fully understand what I’m dealing with. Expressing emotions might be seen as weakness. And I don’t bring office problems home.

There is no emotional connection where I can openly share what I am carrying.

And that makes me lonely.

The only place I find temporary peace is when I smoke. It clears my head. It feels like an anchor — something I can rely on. It doesn’t solve the problem. And I don’t even want someone else to solve my problems. I want to take responsibility for them. I want to solve them myself.

But I want someone to listen.

Therapy hasn’t worked well for me. The solutions often feel generic.

ChatGPT works. The advice feels specific to my situation. My life has improved since I started using it as a thinking partner. But even then — I still want to talk. To express. Writing helps a lot. It is an incredible thinking tool. But writing is still solitude.

What I am really seeking is validation.

When I recognised loneliness as the root, it made me rethink my situation.

Leadership is lonely. Maybe my situation isn’t unique. People in leadership roles are often isolated. They just cope differently. Not all of them smoke — some drink, some overwork, some distract themselves in other ways.

But if I accept the premise — I smoke because I feel lonely — then I must also accept something uncomfortable.

My current job, my position, and even future promotions are likely to make me lonelier.

Smoking is already my biggest health issue. If loneliness increases, smoking will likely increase. Health will deteriorate. Lifespan will reduce. Quality of life will drop.

What is the point of success if I end up confined to a hospital bed?

I am rethinking this aspect of my job.

I’ve realised that to live a healthy life, I must free myself from smoking. But to free myself from smoking, I may also need to address the loneliness. And if my career path naturally increases isolation, I need to rethink how I deal with that.

The change has to be internal, not dependent on external factors.

At this stage, I don’t yet know how to do that.

But I know I cannot ignore it.

Open Loops – Ghosts destroying my health, sleep and my life

Last week, I failed on multiple fronts.

My usual goal is to work out three times a week. I managed only once.
My goal is to trek once a week. I didn’t complete the trek because I was travelling.

But the real reason I felt I was losing was something else — open loops.

Two weeks ago, I created open loops that I did not bring to conclusion. Not because of incompetence. Not because I was unavailable. But because of simple inaction. I took things too lightly. I behaved like a cat that closes her eyes and assumes the danger disappears just because she cannot see it.

Of course, my inaction caught up with me. Tasks, along with customers, started haunting me.

Complication is my kryptonite. As the open loops became complicated, I feared them and chose to abandon them. My actual approach should have been to deal with them. Instead, I worsened the situation by avoiding them. Now I was mentally running away from something that was completely inevitable.

The result? A preoccupied mind. Drained energy. Increased smoking. Opening the door to alcohol. These were escape mechanisms I thought would soften the issue.

Ryan Holiday writes, “Emoting is not working.” It’s true. But emoting feels like hard work.

Stretched tasks led to uncomfortable conversations with customers. My attempt to magically “fix” the situation failed. The energy drain collapsed my evening workouts. Stress ruined my sleep. Even magnesium — which usually knocks me out — didn’t help. Smoking turned out to be the worst possible solution.

At that point, I had to return to my desk and rethink everything.

Health is my indicator. Poor sleep, drained energy, alcohol consumption — these were signals. Survival comes first.

I arrived at a simple conclusion: instead of hiding and wishing the problem would disappear, there was only one uncomfortable path — DEAL WITH IT.

That meant proactively calling customers and renegotiating timelines. Or speeding up the process and enduring their frustration. And where I had not acted at all — simply act.

I was still avoiding. But I knew the path was through the fire.

While driving, without overthinking, I called two customers. I apologised for the delay. I gave them realistic timelines. I silently listened to their response. They agreed. I ended the call.

The third customer was harder. I hesitated. Then he called me. I went into overthinking and guilt mode. His call rang and ended.

“Fuck it,” I said.

I called him back. Prepared for the worst. Apologised again. Renegotiated. He agreed. Call ended.

The fourth customer was the most difficult. With the others, I could hide behind the phone. This one was physically present — returning to the office three times a day like a ghost. I felt irritated. But should I be irritated? I was the one who created the expectation.

I am a chronic people pleaser.

I realised I create self-sabotaging situations by committing to empathy and others’ expectations instead of reality. I have read too many leadership books where leaders bend reality to their will. I struggle with that. Maybe I am not that leader. Or maybe my reality is different from the leaders I read about.

The in-person conversation was hard. He wanted clarity. I had been offering false comfort. I had to face my truth. I apologised again. Renegotiated the timeline. Let him respond. And closed it.

The fog in my head lifted. The weight on my chest disappeared. I had felt claustrophobic. Now I could breathe again.

I created a daily task template. This week, I am committed to it.

Yesterday, I discovered another open loop. I immediately acted. The issue isn’t fully resolved yet — but it’s no longer pending with me.

I can still identify three open loops that have not yet turned into ghosts. I must deal with them this week so I can sleep peacefully.

When I joined the bank, some senior employees would always double-check and tally cash before leaving. They said it gave them peace of mind and restful sleep. I never understood it deeply.

Now I do.

My main goals this week:

Follow the task template
Communicate quickly
Retain energy
Reduce self-inflicted stress
Bring my weekly goals back on track

This week is not about ambition.
It is about closure.

Return to Order

I am constantly thinking about the fact that I am observing myself.

I have now embodied mindfulness. This feeling at times feel worthless but extremely useful. I have no idea why this embodied mindfulness feels worthless and useful at the same time. Maybe because mindfulness is not directly helping me to improve my Branch performance.

I am on radar. Expectations are too many and I am not able to meet it. I am good with people, but I am not good with managing expectations. My approach – and it still is – tell others what they want to hear so that they will feel good. Forget whether it works on not.

This is how I have dug my grave. I have to be totally honest. Mindfulness has helped me become aware of it.

Last week I suffered from in total 5 open loops which created tremendous mental pressure. To an extent where my smoking became primary way to deal with this pressure. This also was the reason why I was open to drinking after 3 month fast. And I finally broke my fast.

Alcohol has not really helped me ever. Smoking at least feels like improving my mood momentarily. I can think of multiple things when I smoke. Drinking is a complete waste of time and money.

So I observed myself. Brainstormed rigorously with ChatGPT and built a simple template to deal with day to day tasks. In this week my actions are in order. I have not consumed alcohol. I have to mention it though I am not really inclined to drink. At office I had faced problems because I had no ability to track tasks. To tell you truth, I really did not care. Tell people what they want to hear and forget it. This was my approach to work. And so I created too many open loops and customer follow up made my life miserable. This is how I have learned to care about customers and I had to adopt a task manager. Previously I used to make a note in ‘Notion’. I found it stupid. I am usually paper and pen person, so I built a template with ChatGPT and printed it out.

I have reached to a point where I feel I am enough. I do not need to do anything to prove myself or anyone anything. I don’t have to buy a house, buy camera, buy a car or a Royal Enfield, or Gold or anything. I don’t have to do anything to prove that I am good enough.

Mindfulness has brought me to a realization that I am enough. But this dramatic shift in me cannot be exercised professionally. Professionally I still care about my numbers, which are tremendously in red. I care about my image and how I am being portrayed to higher management. As my mind is moving from ambition to sustainability – I cannot change my job position quickly where ambition is the core requirement. Threats are becoming personal and common. At times I assure myself that I am enough but then in a meeting my foundation destabilizes.

Intensity at this stage is my enemy. So I have mindfully chosen to stay away from intensity. Sustainability over intensity. System over rush – this is what my plan is. I have few more weeks to go. In an overview I know that there is no uncertainty in my life. But for some reason my mind constantly seeks uncertainty and the pressure that goes along with it.

This is conditioning I am dealing with.

My workout has stalled. See how a simple pressure and stress clearly impacts physical health. Last week, I was too occupied with open loops to an extent where I picked up headaches. Pressure resulted in excess smoking and ignoring meals. Emoting is not working but I felt I worked hard. I did not. I spent days emoting over things which could have managed with 5 minute phone call, which I ultimately did and resolved issue for time being. Excessive smoking and sporadic eating resulted in energy crash. No sleep. That resulted in tiredness and I preferred to come home instead of workout.

Sleep – poor sleep resulted in continuous cycle. I have not worked out now for a week. If not worked out I will be destroying this week too.

Last week I learned few things:

Open loops are problematic. So deal, delegate or communicate. Not to keep things hanging.
Have a systemic template to deal with daily tasks
Work meaningfully. Though your seniors may not care about your efforts.
See whether your ‘work hard’ is actually working hard or you are emoting about it
Stay mindful
Pivot quickly
Take action

I need to bring my life on track this week. First in line is – to workout.

I need to continue to address my weekly 3 goals:

Workout 3 times a week
Trek once a week with 10Kg rucksack
No alcohol

Manikgad Revisted: Jungle that invites and frightens

February 8, 2026

Manikagad has always felt like an obvious challenge to me.

I’ve been there twice before—once with my family, and the second time with Amu, my Golden Retriever. But this February, I decided to take on Manikagad again, consciously—as a challenge.

I carry a happy memory associated with this place. The first time I climbed this mountain, I received a call from my controller. It was a Sunday, and I was asked to get a specific task done. Without overthinking, I made a few calls and coordinated with the corporate team.

And I got it done.

The trek was tiring, no doubt. But Manikagad became a silent witness to a small success I created within my organisation that day. That memory has stayed with me.

Yet, Manikagad remains a challenge—and for good reason.

This isn’t just a patch of trees you casually call a jungle. This is a real jungle. Dense. Enveloping. At times, it feels as if the jungle itself is trying to swallow you whole.
The trek involves a long circular walk around the peak, which makes the journey mentally and physically exhausting.
The straight-line distance from the starting point to the peak is roughly 6 kilometres—and every kilometre demands respect.

Manikagad doesn’t intimidate you loudly. It tests you quietly, step by step.

And that’s exactly why it matters.

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This time, I decided to correct a few mistakes I had made earlier.

First—water. There are no shops along the trail, and water is non-negotiable. On both my previous treks to Manikagad, water had become a problem. This time, I didn’t leave it to chance. I bought a full box of water bottles and packed them in.

Second—energy. Knowing the trek would be long and draining, I stocked up on Parle-G biscuits. Simple, effective, and reliable fuel.

To avoid the harsh sun, we decided to start early.
The trekking party was ready by 7:00 AM.

We left Palaspe and reached Dhangarwadi by 8:00 AM, and soon after, began walking the trail.

Mornings in the mountains are beautiful. We clicked photos, shot a few videos, and simply soaked it in.

The jungle section was especially interesting. Dense, alive, and inviting. We kept talking about coming back someday just to explore the jungle itself. My energy was high, and I was unusually chirpy.

Then came the final climb—and I could feel the energy slowly draining away.

I was carrying a rucksack that weighed around 10 kg, and with all the water bottles, it felt even heavier. My feet began landing in places I hadn’t consciously intended. But I trusted my training. My muscles were strong enough to handle it.

Slowly, steadily, I made it to the top.

As we reached the summit, a large group from Pune was descending. Another enthusiastic conservation group was actively working to preserve the fort—quiet, purposeful work.

We rested at the top and drank water from the tank near the summit.

The descent was tiring.

I went quiet. Walking became mindful. Each step demanded attention.

On my previous trek, my patience had run out before the trail ended. The same thing happened this time. The sun was now high, and walking through the open stretches became difficult.

Eventually, I reached the car.

It was burning hot.

We got in.

And I came home.

Manikgad : Jungle that frightened me to the bone

February 1, 2026

Manikgad had been on my radar for quite some time.

That morning, I woke up and got ready as usual, planning to head out for the trek. My parents had already decided to join me. Later, my wife mentioned that my father and sister-in-law were also coming along.

What started as a solo plan slowly turned into a small group trek.

Trekking with so many people was an interesting experience in itself.

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I searched for Manikgad on Google Maps and started driving.

We reached the village of Savane, and from there, the jungle trek began.

There were a few interesting things about Manikgad. This mountain is not travelled much. It almost feels ignored. Usually, on popular treks, you find small shops along the way—selling water, snacks, or tea. Here, there were none.

And that’s when I made my first mistake.

I hadn’t even carried water.

Why? Because I didn’t investigate properly. I didn’t research enough. Plain and simple.

The villagers were kind enough to give us a 2-litre water bottle. At that moment, it felt sufficient. We would later realise it wasn’t—but that part was still ahead of us.

We entered the jungle and immediately noticed something unsettling: multiple trails branching off in different directions. As the so-called trekking enthusiast, I naturally took the lead. I walked ahead as if I knew better.

I didn’t.

When you’re leading, sometimes you’re just pretending.

We walked through the jungle for a long time. Eventually, I felt it—we were lost. I was afraid, but I couldn’t express it. Panic would only make things worse.

Ironically, I felt relieved when I spotted a torn Snickers wrapper on the ground. I don’t advocate littering, especially in nature, but in that moment, it gave me hope. Someone had walked this path before. Someone “civilised” enough to eat a chocolate bar.

So this must be the right trail.

I convinced myself and kept pretending.

Soon, the pretence cracked. The trail vanished completely, and we were walking aimlessly towards the mountain, barely visible through the trees. My father was the first to raise concern.

After some discussion, I decided to turn back and abandon that trail.

That’s when my father-in-law suggested something else—cutting straight through the jungle towards the mountain, without a defined path.

“If we don’t find the way, we’ll return,” he said.

It was a classic sales pitch.

I agreed. My parents agreed—reluctantly.

A little further in, we finally found a trail.

As we resumed walking, another problem surfaced. My sister-in-law was struggling. It felt as if she was walking on a trail for the first time, and my parents were worried she might get hurt.

We paused again and took my father-in-law’s opinion. He still wanted to continue, mainly because he knew I wanted to. We stopped to eat and drink some water. My mother had carried fish and bhakri—thank God she did.

After resting for a while, we continued. Soon, we reached a flat stretch that extended all the way to the base of the summit.

The final climb wasn’t easy either. Since the trail was less travelled, it was still dense and dark with jungle cover.

Midway, I received a call from my manager. He wanted an update on a corporate commitment. It was Sunday. I was in the middle of a jungle trek. Still, I picked up.

I asked for the bank’s demand. He paused, thought for a second, and agreed. I relayed the update to my RM—work done.

Somehow, even on that trail, I solved a professional problem. It boosted my confidence.

We finally reached the top.

It wasn’t easy. My sister-in-law had given up by then. We clicked some beautiful pictures and began our descent.

That’s when something interesting—and concerning—happened.

I couldn’t find the same trail we used to ascend. The obvious path was a straight descent, not through the deep jungle. I chose safety over speed. I had miscalculated time and was desperate to finish the trek before dark.

We drank all the remaining water. We had none left.

Speed became the only option.

The descent was long. Slowly, I realised we were heading in a completely different direction. Savane was far to the left. We were moving right.

The trail felt endless.

Eventually, we reached Dhangarwadi—a place with broken, deserted houses. We met a few people who advised us to continue to Thakarwadi and then take an auto back to Savane.

We reached Thakarwadi. My parents asked for help. A kind family gave us water and tea and called an auto for us. Within 20 minutes, we were on our way back to Savane.

We reached the car and drove home.

Manikgad proved tremendously difficult.

I am not an adventurer. I love trekking, yes—but I am uncomfortable with uncertainty, especially in dense jungle terrain.

That day, I faced a simple truth about myself: I am risk-averse. I love photographs, not risk.

And yet—after doing it—I felt good.

As if I had achieved something.

Raigad: Symbolic celebration of completing Phase I

So finally I completed Phase I that started on 23rd of October, 2025.

It included 3 simple parts: 1. Workout 3 times a week 2. Trek once a week 3. No alcohol

And I made it through.

The most interesting one was ‘No alcohol’.

I realised that the alcohol had a very specific job in my life. To feel the gap between my desired success and my present condition. The moment I started trekking and took responsibility, I started climbing and descending mountains. This simple act made me successful weekly. And as I became successful, my sense of failure and need for alcohol slowly vanished.

Trek was the anchor identity.

You need strength to climb mountain so workout supported the muscle growth and strength building.

As a product of achieving these simple goals – Alcohol consumption stopped.

I did not weigh myself. I did not measure my muscles. The reason was I decided to establish behaviour first.

Success is the result of systems that we follow. If I can establish systems, time is the factor that guarantees results. So once the system is established – I know I am going to achieve my health goals without any hassle.

I slowly started to discover my strength. I am not intensity guy. I am the systems guy. Well, I knew that given the fact that I am mostly disciplined. But this discipline never reflected in public success. Now it does.

So I ended up 4 weeks of Phase I on 22nd of November, 2025 – on my son’s second birthday. We celebrated his birthday. My relatives and family members came and we celebrated the Birthday and then they all left except my uncle who stayed back.

I decided to trek Raigad. Raigad was the obvious choice because it was the capital of the Shivaji Maharaj’s Swarajya representing a milestone of coronation of Maharaj being Chhatrapati.

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I thought as my uncle stayed back, I should not involve my parents. At an early morning, even they were ok. Only fact my parents were not aware of was that I was trekking Raigad.

Raigad is symbolic for all. Everyone wishes to visit and revisit the place of inspiration.

So I started in the morning. Landed at the base village by 9:00 AM and started climbing.

I firmly remember that for ascend I took ~ one hour twenty minutes. And on descend I took fifty five minutes.

As any weekend, the place was crowded. I went up, bowed before Maharaj’s samadhi and returned.

When I came home, I realised my mother is angry. She wanted to join me for the trek. I asked what about the uncle, her brother staying at home. ‘We would have arranged something’ she said.

For some reason I was happy to see that trekking has not just become my identity, my family also adopted the same identity.

The interesting things happened later. When I posted photos of the trek as usual, I got so many responses. One of my senior with whom I worked before congratulated me and expressed his disappointment with himself ‘I am staying in Pen and I have not yet visited.’

Irshalgad: Trek with Parents

November 16, 2025

My consistency eventually made my parents curious about trekking.

Weekly treks became normal—so normal that they simply decided to join me. There was no need for convincing. They were happy to walk.

My father had always wanted me to adopt healthier habits. For a very long time—almost 15 years—I tried to out-debate him. I thought I knew better.

I didn’t.

When I finally found my way onto the right path, his interest grew naturally. He was genuinely curious, almost relieved.

My mother was just as happy. She enjoyed walking long distances with me, soaking in nature, moving through the jungle at her own pace. Watching them walk beside me felt grounding in a way I hadn’t expected.

Choosing Irshalgad

That week, I decided to try a new mountain—Irshalgad.

I had heard of this place years ago, but not in a trekking context. It was in the news because of Irshalwadi, a village that was buried under a devastating landslide. It had been major news at the time.

Back then, I never really thought about where the place actually was.

Even later, my father-in-law mentioned this mountain during conversations about the landslide. Still, it remained just a name—distant and abstract.

When the landslide happened, there was widespread discussion in the media about environmental degradation—how we are slowly damaging nature, and why such disasters are becoming more frequent.

Walking toward Irshalgad now, with my parents beside me, those old conversations came back with a different weight.

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Learning to Walk with Uncertainty

Once again, I left home with a slightly doubtful mind.

There were mixed reviews about Irshalgad. Some mentioned that the path to the fort was closed. Even Google Maps wasn’t showing the trail clearly.

Earlier, this uncertainty would have stopped me.
Now, I’m more comfortable with it.

So we reached the base village anyway.

As we began the climb, the mountain revealed itself—its unique rock structure clearly visible from a distance. It looked inviting and intimidating at the same time.

My father assumed it would be a short trek. His logic was simple: a flag usually marks the end. Somewhere along the way, an orange flag had been placed, and he assumed that was the summit.

When he reached it, he was surprised to learn that the fort was still far away.

But he didn’t complain.

He adapted.
Accepted the challenge.
And kept walking.

A Quiet Reality Check

The most surprising part of the trek was this:

My parents climbed faster than me.

My father is 60.
I’m 35.

The age difference showed up—in reverse.

We crossed a long, almost straight stretch and finally reached the base of the summit. From there, the terrain changed. The rock formations and the climb through them were strikingly beautiful.

Just like Sondai, Irshalgad sits along the banks of Morbe Dam. The view of the water was expansive and calm.

Still, if I’m being honest—
nothing quite beats the views from Sondai Fort.