I saw him there, a crumpled figure on the cold sidewalk, his weathered skin stretched taut over brittle bones. The world rushed by, unseeing and uncaring.  Or so I thought.  Maybe I was wrong; the world did not see the crumpled man on the sidewalk.   

I stopped for a moment.  At that moment, I was struck by the cruel irony of our world – we feed the birds, pamper our pets, yet turn a blind eye to the hunger that gnaws at our own kind.
I watched, frozen in place, as the crowd flowed around him like any stream of water around a rock. And then, ashamed, I too moved on, my own worries pulling me away like an insistent child.  I had my own problems to solve and my ego to feed.

But as I sat in the sterile comfort of my office, my thoughts drifted to you – to all of you who have nourished me over the years. I thought of your hands, calloused from countless hours in the kitchen, preparing meals with a love that transcends mere sustenance. I remembered the worry lines etched on your faces as you fretted over whether I had eaten enough or whether the food was to my liking.

Amid my thoughts, the old man on the street and your tireless dedication merged into a single, powerful realization. The meals you’ve provided, day after day, year after year, were more than just food. They were acts of love, of connection, of humanity in its purest form.

I thought of the troubles you’ve endured – the early mornings, the late nights, the aching feet from standing over a hot stove. I remembered the times you’ve sent food across the miles, navigating the complexities of delivery services from the dabbawalla to its more modern app-based progeny, all to ensure I wouldn’t go hungry. And through it all, you’ve never once mentioned the cost, for how can one put a price on love?  Some things are indeed priceless.

As these thoughts washed over me, I felt a desperate need to return to that old man. I packed a bowl of rice, laced with whatever else I could find, my heart racing with an irrational hope that he would still be there.

As I rushed out, the sky opened up, a light drizzle falling as if the heavens themselves were weeping for our collective neglect.

I rushed back, driven by a need I could not fully articulate.

I needed him to be there, not just for his sake, but for my own.

I needed the chance to pass on the kindness that had been so freely given to me, to be a link in that unbroken chain of compassion that you had forged with your selfless love.

As I approached the spot where I had seen him, my heart pounding, I realized that whether he was still there or not, you had already taught me the most valuable lesson.

You had shown me, in action and not mere words, that nourishment is about more than filling an empty stomach.

It’s about filling an empty heart, about recognizing the humanity in others and nurturing it with every act of kindness.

Thank you, from the depths of my being, for every meal, every worry, every act of love.

You had fed more than my body; you had nourished my very essence, and in doing so, you had changed the world, one meal at a time.

There once lived a man who had immense faith in God.

He was always at peace for his path to happiness ran via his deep faith and devotion to God. To him, the path to eudaemonia was simultaneously devoid of any temptations of desire (for pleasure) or fear (of pain). To him, everything made sense as a part of the grand plan that his Almighty God had for him. And so he lived, in total peace and happiness – the envy of many and the admiration of a few.

Yet, one day, his beloved wife fell sick – nothing serious – and yet she had to be hospitalized. A hospitalization that appeared innocuous at first; yet just a few days later she unfortunately passed away….

The happy man turned sad – it was the attending doctor’s negligence that made him a widower.

Alas, the convenience of faith!

“The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination” – Albert Einstein

Most of the venture capitalists toot the mantra of domain expertise and domain knowledge.     It is probably a risk-averse strategy to back entrepreneurs and founders who start companies leveraging their own experiences and expertise.   And that is probably mainstream thinking and quite acceptable.  May be, in some ways, that can actually be interpreted as a sign of humility and a genuine admission of admiration for experience and expertise.    

It cannot be argued that a patient facing heart surgery, or for that matter any surgery at all, would prefer someone with relevant and extensive experience with the same procedure that she faces.   But that surgery is about knowing what one is doing having done it many times before.  The argument is valid that one who has gone through hundreds of a certain kind of procedure would have seen it all as far that particular procedure is concerned and, hence, will instill a greater degree of confidence in the patient.    But disruption is not the same as heart surgery in the sense that “doing it the same way and having seen it all” is not the exact definition of disruption to begin with.     Disrupting is all about doing something like no one has done it before.   Like trying out a new way.  Like carving out a new path never tread before ever.  Disruption is as unlike heart surgery as the Sahara is unlike the poles.   Well, said another way, they are polar opposites.  

While humility is an admirable trait, a quick look at the websites of most (definitely not all, I admit) venture capital firms highlight domain knowledge as a core characteristic of their partnership.    Domain knowledge in any field can probably be acquired by one of many ways – by studying a certain subject; by interning in a certain sector of industry; by working in a certain functional role or a certain industry.   In short, domain expertise can be acquired either by education or by working.  Education can either be academic preparation, certification courses, or in the odd instance self-education.    Work experience is more straightforward.  But domain experience and domain expertise can definitely be claimed without either academic or actual work experience.   Yet, just a random browsing through any leading venture capital firms’ website (bar the few firms and partners) will show how badly bastardized that term “domain experience” is.    Far from humility, it is an obvious signal of arrogance and, maybe, even delusion.  

A general awareness of the facts, the procedures, and participants in an industry is a very low bar for domain knowledge.   And it is doubtful whether most of the venture capitalists and investors would even be able to pass that low bar.    One incident comes to mind.   A young and upcoming partner at a leading venture capital firm claimed to be a telecom equipment domain expert, despite the fact that she studied Art History albeit at Harvard University.    She could, may be legitimately lay claim to that expertise, because she had indeed led a number of financially successful investments in telecom equipment companies during the boom days of the telecom industry in the United States in the late 1990s.     Her investment track record was impressive and she deservedly achieved success within her firm, being named partner at a very young age.   However, in one particular meeting, when assessing an investment opportunity in yet another telecom equipment startup, during the conversations it became obvious that she really did not know even the basics of the telecom industry – she was stumped when someone asked her what she understood to the difference between a router and a switch.    A fundamental lack of understanding demonstrated her lack of any domain knowledge at all in an area that she legitimately could claim significant investing experience and success.   

Yet venture firm after venture firm flaunt domain expertise in their marketing collateral.   All that is still quite acceptable.   But what is troubling is their insistence on domain expertise when it comes to investing – while claiming their own hypocritical posturing as domain experts with no legitimate basis to be advocates for domain knowledge. A venture capitalist with no first hand experience of ever having written even a single line of code will find himself qualified to judge a software company and yet demands software industry experience when looking for people to back in a software startup. Such arrogance is both misplaced and hypocritical. 

Why do the following words even exist or mean what they mean? If racism is to be obliterated, the usage of these words must end.

One does not even need any explanation…

Blacklist versus Whitelist
Blackmail

Why is black magic nefarious?
Why is the bad kid the black sheep of the family?
Why is a wound a black eye?
Why is the underground economy called black economy?
Illegal trades happen in the black market.
A bad event is a black letter day.
Illegally earned money is black money.
A list of people who are out of favor is a black book.
The region of space resulting from the collapse of a star is a black hole.
The hazardous coating of ice nearly invisible but very hazardous is black ice.

Why do we say whitewash for good things?
Why are white hat hackers ethical?

Why do brides wear white gowns for the wedding but grieving widows wear black at a funeral service?

This is but a very limited list – racism ends when we end all negative associations with the color black.