Skip to content
houses overlooking mountain range

Write about a random act of kindness you’ve done for someone.

It wasn’t a random act of kindness, nor would I call it particularly noble. It was just something I did—a small effort to reach out in a remote corner of the world. This is a story from my past, a memory that lingers like the Himalayan mist. A Young Man in a Quiet Village Decades ago, in my early twenties, I found myself posted in a remote village nestled deep in the Himalayan mountains. I worked for a Central Government organization, where, on paper, I oversaw a vast stretch of the state. In reality, I was just a young man, alone in a world far from home. My office staff consisted of five locals who rarely showed up, leaving me to manage a near-empty office. Every month, I’d make a week-long trek to the state capital to collect salaries in cash—yes, cash, along with supplies. This was a time before… Write about a random act of kindness you’ve done for someone.

silhouette of man standing inside structure

How would you describe yourself to someone who can’t see you?

My dear friend, I’m utterly baffled why you’d want to know more about me. Consider yourself fortunate for not being exposed to the raw, unfiltered side of this world! But since you’re so insistent, I’ll indulge you—don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m tall by Indian standards, standing proudly at six feet. My head is a canvas of white, grey, and the occasional rebellious black hair. In a sea of dyed locks—where even kids seem to chase eternal youth—I’m the odd one out, embracing my natural grey. In fact, I’ve inspired a few brave souls in my neighborhood to ditch the hair dye, much to their wives’ dismay. Adding to the chaos on my face is my thick, glorious mustache—my pride and joy since my early twenties. It’s practically a family heirloom at this point. Below the neck, I strive to stay trim, squeezing in daily exercises whenever life allows.… How would you describe yourself to someone who can’t see you?

a circle of medical professionals in an operation theater

Have you ever had surgery? What for?

About a decade ago, I faced my one and only surgerya bizarre incident that still feels like a scene from a slapstick comedy gone wrong. Let me take you back to that fateful day. I was working remotely, dialed into a marathon hour-long office call. Meanwhile, the room around me buzzed with activity as the marble floor was being scrubbed with soapy water. The call finally ended, and I stood up to stretch my legs, eager for a quick break. Big mistake. I barely took a step before my foot skidded on the slick floor. In a split second, I was sprawled on my back in a narrow passage between my desk and the door, wedged between a wall and the bed’s sideboard. My left elbow and right leg took the brunt of the fall, and the immediate sting of pain was sharp but fleetingor so I thought. For two… Have you ever had surgery? What for?