introduced my ex-flatmate to some new friends as our dog's mum, which, in all fairness, was rescued and raised by her, with me stepping in for occasional walks, treats and playtime.
makes me the father, right?
im a pilot and a devrel at @bolna_dev . last night i spent an hour trying to trick an ai voice agent into the exact radio mistake that gets real pilots killed. a controller clears a nearly identical callsign, think N423AB vs N432AB, and you comply anyway
I think I’m determined to write more stuff simply because my late father once taunted that I’ll “waste my life” writing stuff!
I like to think of this as an ongoing banter between us, now that he’s no longer in the shape or form I knew him in. I know he rejoiced deeply when he found my columns in a local hindi newspaper through his colleagues or those 6-minute long debates I’d write on my own for inter-school debate competitions.
To add to his ignorance, he never understood what i did for living except that I “wrote stuff”. I don’t blame him, it’s tough to explain the non-thrilling job of a copywriter to a parent from a village. I’m just glad he understood and seeded my need to write and read when he did.
I dare not take that for granted.
the qawwali sort of chorus is when the song peaks for me describing all sorts of humans and swiftly drops the tranquility with a final “main bhi hoon, woh nahin”.
honestly, still figuring out if the ‘voh’ in the song is the loved one drifting away or a former self that’s non-existent now.