Running clears my head; writing helps me hear it.

Pic courtesy Aaron Burden via UnSplash

Besides running, writing has been my go-to habit for staying sane. Not performative. Not polished. Just me being me. People say I “bare my soul” to readers. Truth: I write for myself, notes to self that others sometimes find.

Through writing I vent, argue with what (to me) ails the world, and float ideas that sound crazy until they suddenly make sense. I connect dots where others see blank space. That’s my la-la land. To some it looks like loneliness; to me it’s simply being alone, the one person whose company I genuinely enjoy.

Running and writing have never judged me. They just show up.

Kartavya Path, India Gate. Kartavya in English means duty, obligation or task. (Clicked by me during my run on 9th September, 2025, along with Luis.)

In middle school, Mrs. Rai, the same teacher who once arranged for me to receive the “best of six” canes for smiling in class, gave me 44% in English Grammar and 81% in English Literature in the same class. (Back then 75% was “distinction.”) I never joined those dots until now, typing this. I don’t live by scripts. I’m almost proudly anti-establishment. My writing swings from impulsive stream-of-consciousness to deep dives where I’ll read 50+ medical journal papers before distilling a point. But the tone stays conversational—the back-bencher in me needs it to make sense.

I’ve been fortunate. I started as a columnist in 2008, first Mint, then Hindustan Times, and I’ve written a couple of books with Penguin. Yet the last couple of years I’ve struggled to write or share. If I don’t write, this might sound odd, but it felt suffocating. I tried videos. I’m now launching a podcast. Good mediums, but not writing.

So why this piece, and why now? Because I’m writing to remind myself to return to the page. To be comfortable being me. To take the leap of faith and trust my gut. Over-analysis has never been my strength; action is.

Artist: Alexander Devasia, India 2013/2019

Karke Dekhein. Gandhiji is said to have told Motilal Nehru this just before the 1930 Dandi March, ‘go ahead and do it’. Decades before Nike’s ‘Just do it,’ and long before Yoda’s ‘Do… or do not. There is no try.’

I’m choosing to do. To run. To write. To breathe a little easier.

If you’ve drifted from the thing that keeps you sane, consider this your nudge. Karke dekhein.

Would love to know what keeps you sane.