Finding myself at 35,000 feet

 (2 mins read)

On my recent flight from Kochi to Hyderabad, curiosity got the better of me. Midway through the clouds, I wondered: "where exactly am I right now?" Out of habit, I opened Google Maps on my phone. I expected nothing, after all, there’s no internet at that altitude. But to my surprise, the familiar blue dot appeared, moving rapidly across southern India. No Wi-Fi, no mobile data, yet there it was: my live location, zipping by at nearly 1000 km/h.

That’s when I realized something fascinating: GPS doesn’t need the internet.

Our phone’s GPS (Global Positioning System) works by receiving signals from a constellation of about 30 satellites orbiting Earth. Each satellite sends a precise timestamp and location. Our device calculates how long these signals take to arrive and triangulates our exact position. It’s pure math and physics, no network required.

Of course, the map tiles (the visuals of roads and cities) need internet to load. But if you’ve used the app recently, or downloaded offline maps, your phone already has them stored. That’s why you can still see the world below, even when cruising above the clouds.

So next time you’re on a flight without seatback screens, try this “sky hack.” Turn on flight mode, enable GPS, and watch your blue dot glide from one city to another, proof that even miles above Earth, technology can still find you.

Sources: GPS.gov, NASA JPL, Google Maps Help

completed 1KM every 4 seconds

Is Your Mind Getting Lazy? Why AI Might Be Making Us Mentally Unfit

(5 mins read)

I have written about my thoughts on AI before. In fact, just a year ago, I shared my ideas in this blog post: "Harnessing the Power of Gen AI: A Second Brain for a Digital Age", where I pointed out that using Gen AI is like having a second brain. With the right prompts, Gen AI can help us organize our thoughts, learn quickly, and make connections we might not have considered otherwise.

Today, I want to build on this idea and dig deeper into another important question: As AI becomes smarter and easier to use, are we risking something even bigger, the loss of our own ability to think deeply and solve problems on our own? Is our love for easy answers and quick results making us mentally lazy? Inspired by a thought-provoking TEDx talk about “Intellectual Obesity,” this post explores how the rise of AI is changing the way we think, what dangers we should watch out for, and how we can use AI wisely to strengthen, not weaken, our minds.

In this post, I try to break down the speaker’s main points, share what I agree with and where I see things differently, and offer thoughts for parents, teachers, and anyone who cares about the future of learning.

What is "Intellectual Obesity"?

The term “Intellectual Obesity” describes what happens when we use technology to do all our thinking for us. Just like eating too much unhealthy food can make our bodies weak, relying on AI for everything could make our minds sluggish and less sharp. Intellectual obesity is not about how much we know, but about how we know—and if we’re willing to work hard for answers or just copy and paste from a machine.

How AI is changing our thinking

1. AI makes everything easier. But at what cost?

AI tools finish tough tasks in seconds. You want an essay? Done. Need to solve a math problem? No sweat. The downside is, we don’t struggle through problems or really understand the process.

What I agree with:

When we stop challenging ourselves, we miss chances to think deeply and learn new ways to solve problems. Like going to the gym strengthens our muscles, struggling with questions strengthens our minds.

Why I’m not fully convinced:

AI also saves time, leaving space to think, create, and try new ideas. Tools like calculators and computers didn’t make us dumb; they let us focus on bigger things. It’s not just about using AI, but how we use it.

2. A dangerous parallel: Intellectual obesity vs. physical obesity

The speaker compares our addiction to easy answers with overeating junk food: both give quick pleasure but aren’t good for us long-term.

What I agree with:

Instant solutions can make us lazy, and we might end up just “consuming” answers instead of understanding them. If kids only use AI for homework, they might not learn how to think for themselves.

Why I’m not fully convinced:

Technology always changes how people think. When the internet arrived, people worried about memory loss, but we developed new skills, like searching and sorting information. Not all use of AI leads to poor thinking; we can learn to use it to make our minds better and stronger.

3. Learning and growing: What will happen to the next generations?

The speaker worries that kids relying too much on AI will struggle to come up with creative ideas or lead others. Productivity might go up, but creative thinking and problem-solving could go down.

What I Agree with:

Creativity doesn’t come from copying. It comes from playing, making mistakes, and figuring things out. Real learning means facing confusion and working through it, not just accepting quick results.

Why I see it differently:

Kids today are smart, and many know how to use technology wisely. If teachers and parents guide them, AI can help kids dream bigger and discover faster, not hold them back.

4. Making AI a Partner, Not a Crutch

The speaker suggests a new way to use AI. Don’t just take the answer. Ask questions about it. Critique the answer: Is it correct? Is there a better way? Improve on what AI gives you. Can you make it neater, faster, or more creative?

What I agree with:

This method builds real skills. It teaches us not just to accept things, but to question and improve. It pushes students to be active learners, not just passive consumers.

Why I think we need balance:

Not every school or home has time or resources for deep critique and improvement. Some subjects might benefit more than others from this approach. Guidance and supervision are critical; otherwise, it’s easy to fall into the trap of “first answer is fine.”

Steps for parents, teachers, and learners:

• Encourage Curiosity: Don’t just praise correct answers, celebrate good questions and creative solutions.
• Build Problem-Solving Habits: Let kids struggle a bit. Help them see mistakes as a normal part of learning.
• Use AI Wisely: Treat AI as a starting point, not an endpoint. Compare answers, ask “why” and “how,” and look for better ways.
• Foster Dialogue: Discuss with children and students about what makes an answer elegant, creative, or effective.
• Reward Effort: Show that working hard to reach a solution is valuable, even if it takes longer.6

Looking Ahead

AI isn’t going anywhere, and it shouldn’t. In fact, the future belongs to those who use these tools smartly. Those who treat AI as a partner for thinking, not a shortcut to laziness, will grow into “Augmented Thinkers” instead of “Dependent Users”.

Schools, families, and workplaces should reward curiosity, deep thinking, and creativity more than quick results or surface-level answers. If we do, we’ll raise a new generation that uses technology to reach higher, not settle for less.

Conclusion

AI has the power to shape the way we think, learn, and solve problems. The risk of “Intellectual Obesity” is real, but it is not the end of deep thinking. The answer lies in how we use AI, not as a substitute for effort, but as a tool to stretch our minds and grow.

Let’s encourage young people to ask questions, challenge answers, and keep thinking deeply. This way, we can enjoy the benefits of technology without sacrificing the joy and growth that come from real learning.

Whom should you bet on: Potential or Proven Performers?

(2 mins read)

unsplash@thor1991

The other night, I was talking cricket with a few close friends, and the conversation turned into a debate. We were discussing India’s new Test captain: Shubman Gill. With Rohit Sharma and Virat Kohli retired, Cheteshwar Pujara and Ajinkya Rahane out of the picture, and even KL Rahul and Jadeja getting older, Gill seemed the obvious pick. But was it the right pick? His Test record doesn’t scream "next great captain". The room quickly split, some felt he hadn’t done enough to earn it, others (like me) argued that potential sometimes matters more than past numbers.

This whole debate isn’t new. I quoted a few examples from the past where potential was given preference. Graeme Smith was just 22 when he became South Africa’s captain. He had played only a handful of Tests, but the board saw leadership in him. It was a bold move, but Smith ended up captaining for over a decade, leading South Africa to the top of the Test rankings. In politics, Barack Obama had only been a U.S. Senator for four years before running for President. People doubted him. But his fresh ideas and calm presence inspired a generation and led to two successful terms in office. In both cases, potential was given a platform, and it delivered big.

So what really makes a good leader? Someone who has done it all? Or someone who could do it all, if trusted early? I think there’s no perfect formula. But I believe in backing potential, especially when it comes with hunger, clarity, and the ability to grow. Experience can steady a ship, but potential can change its course. As someone once said, “Leadership is not about being the best, it's about bringing out the best in others.” And maybe that’s what we really need - not just a captain who leads from the front, but one who lifts everyone around him.

What still works, still matters

(2 mins read)

source: unsplash

I’ve always had a habit of using things till their very end. 

A pen stays with me until the ink completely runs out. Shoes are worn until the soles give up. Clothes are used until they fade beyond color recognition or no longer fit. I use my devices (especially my phone) until they absolutely stop working, often trying to fix them before giving up. Old notebooks are filled till the last page, plastic bags are reused again and again, and sweet boxes are repurposed to store spices or small items. It’s not about being stingy; it’s more about the satisfaction that comes from fully using something that once served a purpose.

This way of living reminds me of the Arabic word Isrāf, which means wastefulness; using more than necessary, or discarding things that still have value. Islam gently teaches us to avoid this. 

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) once passed by his companion Sa’d (may Allah be pleased with him), who was making ablution (wudu) using a lot of water.
The Prophet asked, “What is this extravagance, O Sa’d?”
Sa’d replied, “Can there be any extravagance in ablution?”
The Prophet said, “Yes, even if you are on the bank of a flowing river.”
(Source: Ibn Majah)

That teaching is within my core memories. Even in abundance, we are taught to be mindful, to not let our habits slip into carelessness. It’s a way of honoring what we already have and showing gratitude by not taking it for granted.

Over the years, I’ve noticed how slowing down consumption brings peace. It quiets the urge to constantly replace, and makes space for contentment. A shirt worn many times carries stories. A reused notebook feels complete. A repaired device teaches patience. And somewhere in this small practice lies a deeper truth: that living intentionally is far more fulfilling than constantly chasing the new. I’ve shared this with friends, and now with you. Maybe it’ll stay with you too. Not as advice, but as a quiet reminder, the next time you think of replacing something that still works. 

Use what you have. And use it a little longer.
Not because you have to.
But because you can.

Let’s try to live with less noise.
Let’s try to give everything we have its due.
Let’s not waste.

One summer afternoon, I discovered something ...

(3 mins read)

image created using a feature of ChatGPT

I believe we all carry a core memory within us, tucked away quietly, in a small corner of the mind. It doesn't always have to be something big or life-changing. Sometimes, it’s just a quiet moment, an afternoon, a smell, or a glimpse of a room that stays with us. As the years pass, these memories blur around the edges. We begin to wonder, did it really happen that way, or have we imagined parts of it?

One of my fondest memories goes back to a summer afternoon in my maternal grandparents’ village. Back then, their home was a beautiful mud house, not very fancy, but full of warmth and character. That house doesn’t exist anymore; it has been rebuilt with bricks and concrete. But in my mind, it still stands the way it was. I was around seven or eight years old, and it was the kind of hot, lazy afternoon. As it happens on a lazy summer afternoon, everyone had a stomach-filled lunch and went off to sleep. But I was restless and curious. I decided that the two-hour nap would ruin my productivity! :P So while my parents and siblings took the nap, I began to wander, quietly exploring the corners of that peaceful house.

I went to the first floor: yes, the mud house had a first floor, which still feels quite fascinating to me. There were two rooms on the terrace. One was used to store rice, wheat, onions, and potatoes. The other had a charpai and a small pile of books on a table near the window. That room was empty, but I had a feeling someone would come up soon, so I knew I didn’t have much time. I flipped through the books, searching for something, found no pictures, so I gently placed them back. But then I found a small black notebook. Inside, it was something bluish and mysterious, a carbon paper. I don’t remember whether the notebook belonged to my uncle or my nana, but I did know what it was, and that made me feel oddly proud. So I placed it between two sheets and started drawing something, just to see the magic of two copies being made at once. What did I draw? I don't remember. Did I tear out the page and saved it? I don’t remember. How I left that room? I don't remember. But I do remember the feeling.

That hot breeze outside. The quietness of the house. The joy of finding something new. It’s a small memory, really. But it has stayed with me all these years. I’ve spoken about it to my wife with childlike excitement, and now I find myself sharing it with my children. They may not understand what carbon paper is, or why that afternoon meant so much. But maybe someday, they too will carry a quiet little memory from their own childhood. A simple, forgotten moment that refuses to fade.