Bhardwaj Rish

At dinner in New York, A told me how he waited many years for the right one. He always wanted children. Now he sacrifices his career to pick them up and drop them off to school everyday at age 50. At lunch in the office, B told me how his wife decided to take a step back from her career and take on a part time job. Her mother was never there for her. She wanted to be there for her kids. On our monthly catch-up, C tells me they’re pregnant. He was very happy. He later told me she’s 5 years older than him and that it was a real challenge to conceive. He’s ecstatic. At his desk, D told me he broke up with his girlfriend of 6 years. He’s 32, but he’s moving to California to start a new life. He can always come back to Germany, he says. On a video conference, E told me he’s quitting his job to move to Barcelona. This was the first time in 2 years he mentioned he had a daughter. This was also the first time he said he’s a divorcee. Right before our half marathon, F tells me they’re enga...

The first time I met her, she was a canvas. A mystery, a piece of art yet to be painted. Was she 25? Was she 30? She looked like she had a grip on life. Like she knew what she was doing and why she was here. She moved her hair away from falling in front of her eyes. "Hi", I said breaking the invisible barrier. "You're gorgeous and I want to get to know you" is what I wanted to say. We spoke for an hour of things she was working on while sitting there, of things I was working on while sitting there. I felt as though I had uncovered a brush stroke on this artwork I was unravelling.  The next we met, we spoke of the stars and the universe, of our pasts and of our plans. There was depth beyond what one first sees. Getting to know the state of mind of the artist during the creation of the now finished piece you're looking at. The third time we met, she told me of her traumas. Of her struggles and of her worries. I realized then that what was once a mystery was no...

He wakes up and asks his clock what time it is. The clock answers faithfully, just as it does every single morning. As he wakes up, he thinks to himself "the brain isn't meant for keeping track of time or todo lists". As he stands up, out of his bed, he then takes a quick glance at his wrist watch, once again in an attempt to control time. He has about 10 tasks ahead of him - mundane ones that every half decent human should do in the morning before leaving for work.  He's been trying to optimize how quickly he can leave for work in the mornings without dilly-dallying. He knows time passes the fastest when you're not looking. "It's like leaving your milk to boil", he thinks to himself, "don't pay attention to it for just a second , and 10 minutes will have passed by and the milk overflows". So he makes a note of what minute the clock shows. He then starts his routine, checking in on the clock completing one task after the next. And sure...

Why'd I stop posting on Instagram? Because Instagram stopped being about the lives of people -- the  stories aren't about everyday things they do, but just photos of the places they visit, or the food they eat, or the concert they go to, or the relationship they're in, or the dog they own. That's dull. The mantra: Spend money, show the gram you spent money. Go to the beach on vacation, ok. But show me your progress on the new sport you're learning instead. Take a picture of your food, ok. But tell me the funny art piece you saw in the restaurant instead. Show me your dog, ok. But tell me its everyday peculiarities instead. Listen to your favorite band live, ok. But tell me why they are your favorite band instead. Go to America for the first time, ok. But tell me what felt different to you about the country instead. Bought new clothes, ok. But tell me about that funny interaction with the attendant instead. Biked to work today, ok. But tell me about that funny numbe...

Three Little People sit in their little living room, drinking their three little drinks. Invisible air bubbles of conversation - like little chat heads constantly flickering float above each one’s heads. The Little People are deep in conversation. “I have a theory” says The Little Man1. “What is your theory?” asks The Little Woman. The Little Man2 just sits and sips his drink. “Well it’s more of an experience. But of late, I’ve been going through life looking at myself — this situation — every setting that I’m in, from a third person’s perspective” says The Little Man1.   “Like a camera following you everywhere you go, and seeing yourself through it, instead of just living your life?” asks The Little Woman. “Ha, reminds me of The Sims, that computer game where the characters just do everyday life things” says The Little Man2. “Yes! A lot like The Sims!” exclaims The Little Man1 as he continues “Do you know why they’re called that?” “Because it’s a catchy name for a video game?” say...

I was inspired by a post titled "Write more, but shorter" (do read!) that says writing shorter brings clarity to thought, while keeping the content digestible. The article resonated with me a lot - but missed a key point. Writing more frees up your brain to be able to have new ideas.  For a year now, I've had 10 ideas floating in my mind that I want to solidify. I've tried writing about them, but I would constantly struggle to draw analogies, make a convincing argument, make it read like a story, all while still getting the point across. I would then not publish them at all, leaving the thought lingering in my mind. These thoughts have rented my mindspace for a year now. (!) This limits how much more I can think of, because my mind keeps coming back to the old thoughts I haven't completely thought through. Humans are idea machines that need an environment to allow for more ideas to flow in; I don't know where ideas come from, but what I do know is the more I ...

"Ah I've been learning and practising and it feels so futile! I really don't want to learn to play the piano anymore. What's the point anyway?", she complained over the phone as she went on "there'll never be a time when I will think I'm actually proficient, it's just so time consuming and I don't even know why I'm learning this anymore". A year ago at the start of the lockdown, she started learning to play the piano. And as the usual pattern of picking up a new hobby goes, her enthusiasm shot up the day she decided she would learn to play, skyrocketing with every day she had to wait, until finally peaking on the day it was delivered to her house. Then came the heavy sinking feeling the moment she put on a YouTube tutorial and tried to follow along. She whispered under her breath with her motivation crumbling, "man, this is actually very hard". "Okay, picture this", I started to respond. "The lockdown is final...

There's a complicated mess of wires, most connecting several of the five metal boxes, amongst others which are just loose ends dangling, that together make the system you're working on. There's a phone connected to this complicated mess that puts the system in configuration 1. Your task is to put the system in configuration 2 by reconnecting the phone to a different port. The problem is, no one is around and you don't know how or where it's supposed to connect. But as soon as you have the right connection, the system will tell you it is in configuration 2. So you go on your journey to figuring it out: Hit and trial You start off by disconnecting the cable connecting the phone to the system. So now you have a phone connected to a cable with a loose end, and you have to figure out where it fits.  You start looking around. You have no idea where it goes, so you make a quick scan of all the ports, but find nothing that the wire could connect to. Break it down You grunt ...

"We're on the tipping point of the technological evolution scale! The graph of technological advancements drawn against time is an exponential curve. And we're right at the point where the line skyrockets upwards. This is *the* inflection point!", I said to my brother right after we talked about how the Starlink satellites are being deployed.  I made a gesture with my finger indicating the point of the inflection, right when he dropped a deeply profound line just very casually and said  "that's the magic of an exponential curve; you're always at the inflection point where things are just about to skyrocket".  Initially, that made no sense to me. He is right (and I am fairly embarrassed to say it took me some Excel-ing to really prove it to myself) - and it is all about the scale you choose.  But on the other hand, I couldn't help but stop feeling that this is it. Look, we're at the point where everyone relies on supercomputers in their hands ...

You're on your usual 6:30pm run. The wind's blowing strong on your face, it's freezing, but you've dressed appropriately. You remember this podcast on scientific reasoning as to why people have "aha!" moments when they're out in the wild, or running, or taking cold showers.  A runner passes by.  You keep running, with nothing much going on in your head, other than the fact that you're not really having much of an "aha!" moment.  Another runner passes by.  You're about 2.5km in, and you've crossed 4 runners running on the opposite side, but you haven't yet seen anyone running in your direction. That's funny, you think to yourself. Another runner passes, and now it's bothering you. Why are there always so many people running in the opposite direction, but only old and slow people running in yours.  It takes you a minute, but you figure it out, and then it seems obvious. It has to do with the relatively equal average speeds o...