Skip to main content

Shradhanjali: A Morning That Changed Everything

 

This morning, we lost a colleague.


A man like any of us. On a bike, headed to work. A sudden skid. A speeding bus. A heartbeat silenced before the sun had risen high.
He had just become a father.

The weight of that truth stopped me. Somewhere, a baby waits to grow up hearing stories instead of memories, searching for the face of someone they’ll never truly know.

I ride the same road. I, too, have two small daughters—Siri and Sindhu—waiting for me every evening. When I heard the news, I imagined myself in his place. My girls waiting... but no door ever opening again.

It shook me. And from that ache, two truths emerged:

🔴 1. He wasn’t wearing a helmet.
It seems small—until it’s everything. We often skip it: it’s too hot, too rushed, too uncomfortable. But sometimes that one decision is all it takes to turn fate.

🕒 2. The Biometric Clock.
Our shift starts at 07:15 AM. It’s non-negotiable. We race against time, against traffic, against logic. The fear of a late mark becomes more urgent than the fear of not returning home.
Can a system not adjust for human life?

In a few days, silence will return. Schedules will resume. Another bike will replace his in the parking lot. “The show must go on.”

But I don’t want to forget. Not today. Not this man. Not the fragile thread we ride on each morning.

This post is my shradhanjali—my tribute. And also my pledge:

  • I will wear my helmet. Every time. No exceptions.
  • I will leave earlier, even if it means sacrificing sleep over safety.
  • I will speak up—not to blame systems, but to humanize them.

And to my daughters—if you ever read this one day—know that I promised to come home to you. I will carry that promise like armor.

And more than anything else, hug your children tightly each day. Let them know you’ll always do your best to come back home to them. Not just for you—but for their world.

To the one we lost today: your absence echoes, but your memory may save another. May your soul find peace.
May we all ride safer. Live gentler. And return home.

“It’s better to be Mr. Late than Late Mr.”

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Choosing the Right LIC Policy: Jeevan Utsav vs Jeevan Labh vs Jeevan Anand

In every kutumba, there comes a moment when we pause and ask: What legacy am I building? Whether it’s for our children’s future, our parents’ comfort, or our own peace of mind, choosing the right life insurance policy is more than a financial decision—it’s a reflection of our values. Let’s explore three LIC policies that offer distinct paths to protection and prosperity: Jeevan Utsav , Jeevan Labh , and Jeevan Anand . 🧾 Policy Overview Feature Jeevan Utsav (Plan 871)  Jeevan Labh (Plan 936)  Jeevan Anand (Plan 915) Plan Type Whole Life, Non-Linked, Non-Participating Endowment, Limited Premium, Participating Endowment + Whole Life Cover, Participating Premium Paying Term 5 to 16 years 10, 15, or 16 years 15 to 35 years Policy Term Whole life 16, 21, or 25 years Chosen term + lifetime cover Surv...
Post a Comment
Read more

Veer Savarkar: A Life of Fire and Freedom

On this day, 26 February 1966, India bid farewell to one of her most fiery sons— Vinayak Damodar Savarkar , remembered as Veer Savarkar . His life was a saga of courage, sacrifice, and unyielding devotion to the motherland. Early Days in Bhagur Born on 28 May 1883 in Bhagur , near Nashik, Maharashtra, Savarkar grew up in a household that valued tradition and resilience. His father Damodar Savarkar and mother Radhabai nurtured him with discipline and cultural pride. The early loss of his mother left a deep mark, but his elder brother Ganesh Damodar Savarkar (Babarao) became a guiding force, instilling in him the spirit of nationalism. Education and Awakening Savarkar’s brilliance shone early. He studied at Fergusson College, Pune , where he organized students into nationalist groups. Later, in 1906 , he sailed to London to study law at Gray’s Inn . But his true classroom was India House , a hub of revolutionary thought. Here, he wrote the seminal work “The First War of Indian Ind...
Post a Comment
Read more

Divine bridges built by God's

Across cultures and centuries, bridges have carried more than bodies—they’ve carried souls, stories, and the weight of moral reckoning. From the divine engineering of Ram Setu to the rainbow shimmer of Bifröst, these mythological pathways are more than architectural marvels. They are metaphors for transition, judgment, and connection. 🌊 Ram Setu: The Bridge of Devotion In the heart of the Indian epic Ramayana , Ram Setu was built by vanaras under Lord Rama’s guidance to reach Lanka. It wasn’t just a physical feat—it was a testament to collective faith, righteous purpose, and divine collaboration. Even today, its submerged stones whisper of dharma and determination. 🌈 Bifröst: The Norse Rainbow Bridge In Norse mythology, Bifröst connects Midgard (Earth) to Asgard (realm of the gods). Guarded by Heimdall, it’s the gods’ cosmic highway—destined to collapse during Ragnarök. It reminds us that even divine structures are vulnerable to imbalance. ⚖️ Chinvat & As-Sirāt: Bridges of ...
Post a Comment
Read more