Everyone went around answering. Is it collecting expensive watches or branded bags? Being able to afford fine dining without worrying about the bill? Is it being able to fly first or business class instead of getting cramped in coach, sacrificing comfort for savings?

Nobody talked about time. Nobody talked about presence. Nobody talked about the freedom to be unhurried. To wake up without dread. To choose what deserves your attention today and quietly decline everything that doesn’t. To not sell your hours cheaply out of anxiety.

And I kept thinking about that on the drive home. Because if luxury is only ever about what we can consume, what we can own, what we can afford — then most of us will spend our whole lives feeling like we’re just short of it. Always one raise away. One promotion away. One good year away from finally feeling like we’ve arrived.

Luxury of presence is the most expensive thing in the world.…

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The Full Breakdown

• 0:00 – The “Off the Record” Intent Moving past polished tutorials to discuss the raw, often messy reality of the creator economy.

• 05:15 – The Leap from Corporate Mike discusses the transition from a traditional career to writing full-time and why he views Substack as a relationship tool rather than just a blog.

• 15:30 – Identifying the “Puddles” The core philosophy of the session: avoiding “puddles” like over-editing, obsessing over unsubscribes, and getting distracted by technical “feature creep.”

• 28:45 – The Minimum Viable Post (MVP) How to kill perfectionism. Mike explains his workflow for testing ideas in Substack Notes before committing them to a full-length article.

• 42:10 – Growth via the “Internal Engine” Why external SEO matters less than the Substack network. Insight into leveraging Recommendations and cross-stack collaborations to find your “True Fans.”

• 1:05:20 – The Monetization Strategy Mike explains his “Soft Paywall” approach: keeping high-value information free to grow the list, while charging for access, intimacy, and community.

• 1:20:00 – Q&A: Finding Your Niche The golden rule for creators: “Write for the person you were two years ago.”

3 Key Lessons to Take Away

1. Don’t Fear the Unsubscribe: Think of it as natural pruning. You want a list of engaged readers, not a graveyard of ghosts.

2. Notes are your Lab: Use Substack Notes to see what resonates. If a short thought gets engagement, it deserves a long-form post.

3. Recommendations are Currency: The fastest way to grow is to be a good neighbor. Engage with other writers, and the algorithm will reward you.

Find more content on my YouTube channel @rajofftherecord, for more conversations with writers about their craft, and why any of it matters.

To watch more related content, please subscribe to my YouTube channel @rajofftherecord.

Here is a summary:

• Proposed Elimination: The main focus is on bills being introduced by some lawmakers, including a Florida representative, to completely eliminate the H-1B visa program. The proposed legislation, titled the “EXILE Act,” is framed to end what proponents call “Exploitative Imported Labor Exemptions Act”

• The Argument for H-1B: Larry Bone argues that eliminating the program would be detrimental to technological excellence in the U.S. He contends that companies rely on highly qualified foreign workers, often with advanced degrees, to maintain a competitive edge, and restricting this talent could hurt the companies and the overall economy.

• Proposed Reforms: The guest suggests that if American students are facing unfair disadvantages in the job market, the government should focus on reforming the program legislatively to address these specific issues, rather than cutting out the whole program.

• Administrative Changes: The discussion also touches on recent changes by USCIS, which have moved away from a purely lottery system for the visa and are introducing a tiered, qualification-based selection process (favoring higher degrees like PhDs).

• Impact on Students: The video highlights the real-world consequences of the uncertainty, noting that many students are currently in a state of limbo, with some interview appointments being postponed and others choosing to leave the country early.

This is a developing story.

Video Guide & Key Moments

• 00:00 – The Performance Trap An introduction to why memoir is so difficult today. We discuss the tension between our “public selves” and our “remembered selves.”

• 08:15 – The Act of Excavation Dr. Naik explains her process for digging through old memories. It’s not just about what happened, but about finding the emotional truth buried under years of perspective.

• 18:30 – Family, Ethics, and Shared History A major hurdle for every memoirist: How do you write your truth when it involves other people? Insights into navigating the complexities of family stories.

• 28:45 – Killing the Inner Censor Practical strategies for overcoming the fear of judgment and the instinct to “sanitize” your life story for an audience.

• 38:20 – Writing as a Mirror A look at how journaling and long-form reflection act as tools for personal clarity, helping the writer understand their own patterns.

• 44:10 – Living Honestly Final thoughts on how the discipline of memoir writing eventually bleeds into real life, leading to more authentic interactions and self-awareness.

Top 3 Takeaways for Aspiring Writers

1. Truth over Facts: A memoir isn’t a legal deposition. It’s an exploration of how a moment felt and how it shaped you. Don’t let a missing date stop you from writing the feeling.

2. The “Two-Year” Rule: Much like Mike Searles’ advice, writing is most effective when you speak to a past version of yourself. It grounds the narrative and removes the need to “perform.”

3. Journaling is the Gym: You don’t start with a book; you start with a page. Use consistent journaling to build the “memory muscles” needed for larger projects.

Find more content on my YouTube channel @rajofftherecord, for more conversations with writers about their craft, and why any of it matters.

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It was my regular check‑up visit, and I know I haven’t been watching what I eat—especially over the holidays, when it’s easy to fall off the wagon. So naturally, I’m terrified of that condescending weighing scale at my doctor’s office.

My solution? Wear the lightest clothes humanly possible. Indonesian lightweight pants. Bamboo socks from Nara, Japan. Okinatsu Tiger minimalist shoes. All strategically chosen to beat the scale by at least half a pound.

After an elaborate virtual check-in process—which asks the strangest questions—I arrive to find an unusually long line in the waiting room.

But let’s talk about that check-in for a second.

“Did you have 4 or more alcoholic drinks in one night in the past year?”

Who the heck remembers? I noted 5 drinks.

Then it asked: “Have you had 5 or more drinks in one sitting?”

It doesn’t believe me. Thanks, now the system thinks I drink like 20 in a night or something. How is this going to help the doctor?

Anyway, I arrive t…

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This video features a discussion with Marc A. Wolfe, author of the book “Yeah, But... Cut Through the Noise to Live, Learn & Lead Better.” The conversation centers around his book, his journey as a first-time author, and the concept of overcoming “yeah buts” or limiting beliefs.

Here’s a summary of the key points (summarized by Google Gemini):

• About the Book “Yeah, But” (1:30-2:21): Marc explains that the book was 14 years in the making, born from the common phrase “yeah, but” which he heard frequently in his career. He realized that “but” often negates possibilities, and the book aims to help people overcome these limiting beliefs, including his own initial “yeah, but” about writing a book (2:52-3:17).

• Marc’s Background and the “Yeah Buts” (4:06-5:36): Marc has owned his own business since he was 16. He encountered “yeah buts” early in his career, even in technology and coaching, where people had limiting beliefs about new systems or strategic plans. He emphasizes that “yeah buts” are limiting beliefs that can hold people back, often originating from past experiences.

• The 15 “Yeah Buts” in the Book (8:49-10:01): The book covers 15 common “yeah buts,” structured into five sections:

  • Time-based: “I’m not ready,” “Somebody already did it,” “I don’t have time” (20:57-21:04).

  • Path-based: “I don’t know where to start,” “I don’t know what to do next,” “What’s the plan?” (21:06-21:10).

  • Worry-based: “I’m not sure I can do it,” “It’s not safe,” “I need help” (21:12-21:16).

  • Demographic-based: “I’m too old or too young,” “You can’t where I’m from,” “I’m not qualified” (21:17-21:24).

  • Perspective-based: “I don’t feel successful,” “What will others say or think?”, “What if I fail?” (21:24-21:30). The book also includes a final chapter, “Yeah, but now what?” (9:59-10:02), and features 25 stories of people who have overcome their “yeah buts” (10:17-10:31).

• The Book as a Tool (11:18-12:01): Raj highlights that the book is evergreen and can be revisited repeatedly, as people go through cycles of limiting beliefs. Marc designed it so readers can pick up any chapter relevant to their current “yeah but” (12:56-13:00). Each chapter includes a “but buster” section for self-reflection (15:32-15:59).

• Marc’s Biggest Struggle (17:03-18:00): Marc reveals his biggest “yeah but” was “What are others going to say?” or “What are people going to think?” as he was not a professional writer.

• The Publishing and Marketing Journey (24:02-32:50): Marc details his extensive process for publishing and marketing his book, including:

  • Using Reedsy.com to find editors (24:28-26:50).

  • Learning about different types of editors (developmental, copyediting) (25:50-26:00).

  • Emphasizing that the book was not written with AI (26:17-26:26).

  • Working with a UK-based editor for 18 months on cover design, editing, and layout (26:50-27:29).

  • Registering with the Library of Congress and obtaining ISBN numbers (27:41-27:44).

  • Ensuring worldwide distribution through platforms like Ingram (27:44-27:47), leading to sales in Italy, Sweden, and Brazil (27:48-27:53).

  • Producing the book in multiple formats: hardcover, paperback, ebooks (Apple, Kindle), with an audiobook in the works (28:05-28:22).

  • Handling the marketing himself (29:02-29:03), leveraging his business background and CRM to track advanced reader copies, engagements, and endorsements (29:06-29:35).

  • Acknowledging that most first-time authors sell fewer than 100 copies, and many book buyers don’t read the books they purchase (31:36-32:05).

• Prioritizing Time and Value (33:09-35:50): Marc introduces his “wolfeisms” acronym BUMPT (Best Use of My Prioritized Time) (32:57-33:03). He advises people to read his book first before asking for his time, establishing a barrier that shows willingness to invest in themselves and value his time (34:00-34:52).

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Conversation Summary (by Google Gemini)

This video captures a live session that encountered initial technical difficulties (0:01-0:12), leading to the host, श्रीraj, temporarily losing his intended guest. While waiting, he discusses the new desktop live streaming feature (0:27-0:31) and invites viewers to join and test it out (0:37-0:50).

The original topic for the live session was “street photography in the age of smartphones” with Rajiv Chopra from Delhi (1:48-1:52, 35:56-36:03), but due to his absence, the conversation shifted.

Larry Bone, an author, unexpectedly joins the live stream (3:14-3:26). The host introduces Larry’s book, Myself Lost (4:43-4:57), a thriller about a character named Lal Benjamin (or Red Benjamin) who experiences challenges while visiting India for the first time (10:19-11:03). A unique aspect of the book is that Larry wrote it without ever having been to India, relying on extensive research and his knowledge from Bollywood movies (11:19-11:37, 13:38-13:50).

Larry discusses his two-year writing process (16:58-17:02) and how he was motivated to finish the book by a colleague from Kerala (17:19-18:08). He also touches on the challenges of marketing his book, particularly to an Indian audience (26:38-27:46), and the hope of attending the Jaipur Book Festival (32:33-32:52).

The host also mentions other Substack authors and their works, including Alicia, a house sitter (34:38-35:05), and Flavio, a photographer (29:30-29:55), who recently visited India. The session concludes with the host expressing excitement about the new desktop live streaming feature (36:10-36:23) for building community and promoting content on Substack (40:09-41:04).

Get more from श्रीraj in the Substack app

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Conversation Summary (by Google Gemini)

This live session is a conversation with Rajiv Chopra about various topics, from personal journeys to cultural insights. The purpose of the live session as an opportunity to connect with people (0:39-1:11) and our shared passion for writing and photography as a way to escape the current political climate (1:28-2:06).

Rajiv resides in India (3:07-4:19). The conversation highlights interesting ways people travel the world, including an introduction to Alicia, a global house sitter (4:42-6:20), and Flavio, a volunteer traveler (6:26-6:50).

Rajiv shares his personal history, describing himself as part of the “sandwich generation” due to his family’s refugee status during the 1947 partition of India (7:27-10:03). He recounts his career journey from engineering to corporate life, and his unexpected entry into photography in 1983 after a pivotal moment (10:04-12:05). He details how he acquired his first camera and started with black and white photography (12:06-13:50), and how he eventually transitioned from the corporate world to focus on photography, writing, and teaching (14:07-15:20). He also discusses his positive experience with Substack as a blogging platform (15:21-17:00).

The host praises Rajiv’s voice in his podcast, Dusty Mike Chronicles, and his voiceovers for Dusty Lens Chronicles on YouTube (17:25-18:40). Rajiv explains his disinterest in mainstream media and his focus on geopolitics from a national perspective (18:53-19:50). He reflects on his evolution in street photography, shifting from capturing poverty to exploring historical places and nature (21:55-23:12).

A significant part of the conversation revolves around Rajiv’s travels within India, particularly his experience at the Zero Music Festival in Arunachal Pradesh, Northeast India (23:22-25:02). He emphasizes his desire to explore his own country more deeply (25:03-25:40), a sentiment echoed by the host (25:43-28:20). Rajiv delves further into the Zero Music Festival, discussing the unique animist beliefs of the local people in Arunachal Pradesh (28:48-37:05). He highlights the stark contrast in air quality between Delhi and Zero, reinforcing his current focus on nature (37:10-39:00).

Finally, Rajiv explains how his travels and photography inform his writing, leading him to discover and share historical narratives. He speaks about his discovery of the book “Daughters of the Sun” and his subsequent research into the often-overlooked history of powerful Mughal women and other Indian queens who have been “written out of history” (39:59-44:21).

Welcome to the America (and world) flipped Upside Down, where the rules don’t just bend—they break, twist, and mutate into something almost unrecognizable. Where the Demogorgons don’t lurk in shadowy caves but tower in skyscrapers, dressed in designer suits, tweeting from plush offices, and hosting dinners with controversial royals at the White House.

Meet the Modern Demogorgons

There’s a new breed of monster stalking the halls of power—the megalomaniacs. Billionaires like Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos, political figures like Donald Trump, and their entourage make up the Mega Crowd of Demogorgons. They feast not on flesh, but on influence, control, and the collective patience of a society teetering on the brink of exhaustion.

Musk, with his space rockets and trillion-dollar ambitions, paints a picture of salvation but often leaves behind trailblazing chaos—a digital wild west on his once-promising social platform, now wracked by misinformation and division. Bezos, ever the reticent giant, expands his shopping empire while dodging scrutiny, his fortune growing even as workers demand dignity.

Trump? The most flamboyant Demogorgon, weaponizing chaos with every tweet, blurring lines between fiction and reality, and somehow maintaining a loyal following in the perpetual storm of this upside-down narrative.

The Extinction Crisis Ignored

Outside this monstrous spectacle of distraction, the real world edges closer to an ecological cliff. Species vanish, temperatures soar, and natural disasters rage—yet these Demogorgons and their Mega-Crowd bicker over trivialities. They host dinners honoring questionable allies like the Saudi crown prince—a Master Demogorgon in his own right—while painting themselves as champions of progress.

In the real world, we would slap each one with a rap sheet, but here in the Upside Down, it’s the “void ledger”—a dark, cursed record where deeds and disappearances are etched in shadows. And who’s got the most notorious void ledger of all? None other than MBS, the Crown Prince with a taste for grim power plays and record-breaking execution sprees even Vecna would raise an eyebrow at. His ledger is the stuff of Upside Down nightmares—overflowing with names, dates, and sinister deeds, a true “black mark” on the fabric between worlds.

Mohammed bin Salman (MBS) - Master Demogorgon - Void Ledger

2019: Mass execution spree—37 lives taken in one go, mostly “terrorists” but some still question the evidence. Oh, and minors? Executed too. MBS’s early power play.

Mar 2022: Outdid himself with a record-breaking mass execution of 81 men—terrorism charges and vague “monitoring officials” accusations lead the hit list. Death penalty game on fire.

2022 Total: A cool 196 executed. Not just a number—more like a grim scoreboard. MBS signing off on a killing spree that shocked human rights watchers.

2023: Over 170 heads rolled. Special shoutout to the peaceful dissidents and a school teacher sentenced to death for tweeting critiques. Cyber-terrorism or thought crime? You decide.

2024: Execution bonanza—345 and counting. The highest toll ever. Drug offenses now a get-out-of-jail-free card to the grave. MBS’s war on drugs? More like war on human rights.

Early 2025: 111 executions by mid-May; Ramadan did slow the party down, but only briefly. One execution a day, give or take.

June 2025: 46 dead in one month. Mostly drug offenders, mostly foreigners. The MBS execution machine running hot.

August 2025: Peak killing month with 1.58 executions per day. Year-to-date tally near 302 and climbing. The world watches in horror.

Overall MBS Style: Trials? Fair? Nah. Confessions? Often coerced or tortured out. Dissenters? Silenced permanently. Foreign nationals? Making up over half the dead. The house of Saud’s deadliest season ever.

The Show Must Go On

As the world struggles to discern what’s real in a narrative hijacked by billion-dollar egos and political theatrics, the Upwardly Downward elite cast headlines, tweets, and “breaking news” like sorcery—bending truth into whatever shape best suits the spectacle, while dodging the messy inconvenience of consequences.

Those of us watching this show are left gasping in disbelief, half-horrified, half-fascinated—witnessing a drama too bizarre for any TV script, yet inescapably real.

So, What Now?

As the Demogorgons lunge through our societal shadows, perhaps it’s time to stop playing along in the Upside Down’s theater. To demand accountability. To find the light in a world that’s desperately seeking one.

After all, even in Stranger Things, hope flickers amidst the darkness. The question is: will we act before the Demogorgons make it impossible to turn back?

Because in the show, the kids don’t beat the monsters by just hiding in their rooms and doomscrolling—they fight back. Together. Messy, scared, outmatched on paper, but still choosing to show up.

If you’re ready to do more than just watch this twisted season of reality unfold, I’d love for you to go deeper with me into the Upside Down we’re living in—and what it might take to claw our way out. These paid essays (just $24/year for full access—grab the limited-time offer!) are where I push further into the madness, the megalomaniacs, and the small, stubborn ways we can still resist.

Join for Cheaper Than Your Monthly Latte

Before we redefined what normal meant, my emergency tip-calculating brain cells always did the work to calculate the cost of gratitude and good service. If I was happy and satisfied, it’s a no-brainer 20%. If the server continued to address me as Roger or Rodge instead of Raj, maybe 10%? If I was having the best time of my life, it could be a whopping 25%. If the good times got me drunk, then I wouldn’t even remember what I had scribbled on until the regretful morning after. In general, restaurant tipping is easy. The measure of my satisfaction is an easy formula.

But lately, that formula feels broken. Ever since the pandemic, the news is full of inflation reports—none of them good. The Biden administration flip-flopped on the softness of the “soft landing” they predicted to keep hope alive, kept reminding us that we were not all that inflated. Still, prices soared, and my latte lifestyle took a nosedive.

A year later, here comes the Trump administration’s version of relief—a headline inflation rate hovering around 3% for much of 2025. Trump’s team touts progress, even flashing numbers like 2.7% “average inflation” from January to September, with promises that kitchen staples are getting cheaper. The White House points out that some basic grocery prices actually dropped, but the collective wallet hardly feels any lighter. Meanwhile, voters are still frustrated: years of price hikes don’t simply unwind. My cold brew still feels like a splurge, and somehow, “making lattes great again” isn’t part of the campaign just yet.

If there’s a ‘soft landing’ somewhere, it’s not showing up at my local café. Whether it’s Biden’s post-pandemic battle or Trump’s new round of tariff-fueled sticker shock, the American price tag still feels heavier than my conscience after a second fancy espresso. Politicians may celebrate slowing inflation, but for those of us doing the daily math—latte in one hand, calculator in the other—the squeeze is as real as ever.

The bitter truth, according to the experts, is that pre-pandemic prices at the grocery store aren’t coming back. A true price drop—deflation—is actually bad news for the economy. What we’re told to hope for is disinflation: prices holding steady, not dropping. In other words, those $6 lattes aren’t going anywhere—they’re here to stay.

Nowadays, the base price for a regular latte is over $6, then maybe you add in vanilla syrup, which costs you an extra dollar, and ask for oat milk, which is a dollar more. You’re now staring at an $8 drink, plus taxes and, assuming you’re doing the right thing here, at least a $1 tip.1

Every dollar counts.

Not just for my Barista, an hourly wageworker, but also for me — the coffee-art loving customer who lives pay-check to pay-check. So when I tip my Barista for the coffee I bought, it’s generally a happy transaction. Tipping is my way to express gratitude for the service I expect or hope to receive. At times, it’s simply a friendly gesture between acquaintances. As the gratitude-giver in this relationship, I add that extra 15-20% for the warm welcome, for making me feel important, and for knowing exactly how I like my coffee — never too sweet, always in a mug, and extra hot.

But when every dollar counts, with the prices already inflated on everything from eggs to gas, this “happiness contract” needs to have some basic rules. Because it has gotten out of hand.

Don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely no debate to why good service needs to be appreciated with extra gratitude. After all, it’s a tradition that tracks back to 17th century taverns and inns.

What grinds my gears is the math that goes into pre-defined tipping recommendations at the point-of-service checkout machines. The business owners who set it up seem to take the customer for granted.

For instance, why would the merch (sticker, cap, tee, etc.) that I picked up from the counter along with my coffee require a default 15% tip? Shouldn’t those orders be kept separate?

Why would a takeout order require a tip when it was ordered over an app or online with minimal human interaction? We are already paying for the cost of the product and the service as part of the MRP, aren’t we?

What about the audacity of the unmanned kiosk at the airport vending machine asking for tips? Not only are we allowing machines and AI to take over human jobs, we also want to tip them for it.

Needless to say, this culture of tipping in America has gone wild. What started out in the restaurant industry as a way to foster an environment built on quality of service, has been adopted widely in the food-service industry to delivery apps and anything with an app face. This has led to the culture of guilt-tipping, which is what most of us are defaulting to these days.

The tipping culture is truly unique to America—not merely a matter of custom, but an unwavering expectation etched into every meal and service transaction. Unlike in most other countries, where a modest 10–15% tip is generous and never obligatory, in the United States the act of tipping can feel more like a requirement than a reward. In the UK, much of the EU, and countless other regions, leaving a tip is seen as a courteous gesture, appreciated but never demanded. In fact, tipping in some places can even be unwelcome: in Japan, for instance, offering a tip can be considered impolite or even insulting, a gesture that disrupts the pride and professionalism built into service itself.

When I traveled to Japan in September, I was struck by the absence of tipping culture—and more importantly, by the relief it brought. There were no iPads swiveled toward me at the end of the meal, no silent or direct cues, no awkward pause while the server glanced away, waiting to see whether I would hit the “20%” button, or add a few dollars more for fear of being thought stingy. In Japan, the price listed is the price paid. The exchange—a meal for money, service for gratitude—is already balanced and complete.

Tipping in Japan is not expected, and attempts to leave a tip will almost certainly be turned down (a potentially awkward moment). In Japan, it’s thought that by dining out or drinking at a bar, you are already paying the establishment for good service.2

That stark contrast lays bare just how ingrained and transactional American tipping has become. Here, every coffee run and casual meal now ends with a digital ask for “generosity,” pushing customers to question not just their appreciation but their social standing and sense of fairness. Abroad, gratitude is reserved for moments that truly move you; in America, it sometimes feels like gratitude is demanded by default, making both customer and worker question the real meaning behind every exchange.

In my frequent travels to India, the Middle East, and Australia, I’ve never felt the sticky guilt that comes with tipping in America. In those places, a small token of thanks—some leftover change, a modest amount, or sometimes nothing at all—is simply left behind if you wish. The gesture carries no social weight, no pressure. Locals seem entirely unconcerned, and the baseline expectation is that good service is part of the job, not something to be bought in increments at the end of the meal.

There, tipping is what it was originally meant to be—a spontaneous act of gratitude, reserved for occasions when you are genuinely moved to give thanks, not a mandatory supplement to a substandard wage. In stark contrast, American tipping culture has become loaded with obligation and anxiety, fueled by digital prompts and social expectations that can feel impossible to escape. Here, it’s not uncommon to tip out of guilt rather than gratitude, caught in a system where the “choice” is more about economic survival for workers than appreciation from customers.

As the rest of the world upholds the principle that good service is a standard—not a luxury paid for one tip at a time—America’s practice leaves everyone second guessing: am I generous enough, too generous, or unintentionally shortchanging someone whose livelihood hinges on my decision? In a tough economy, the meaning of tipping here has shifted, becoming less about thanks, and more about the burden of keeping a broken system afloat.

So, what’s so unique about America?

Up next: a deep dive into America’s tipping culture, and what I learned from my Q&A with Dr. Saru Jayaraman. - a leading labor activist, author, and president of One Fair Wage, nationally recognized for her relentless crusade to end sub-minimum wages and transform America’s tipping culture into one rooted in fairness and dignity.

Upgrade now with a limited-time offer to dive deeper, get full access, and never miss an insight. Don’t miss your chance to unlock premium content and join the conversation today!

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At a follow-up press meet, with the same YouTuber present, the topic resurfaced and Gouri immediately pushed back—asking how her weight was relevant to the film, emphasising that women come in all shapes and sizes, and insisting her work, not her body, should be the focus. For over 10-12 minutes, she defended her basic right to bodily autonomy and professional respect before a room full of social media influencers whose reviews hold significant sway over a film’s success. The packed audience recorded the incident on their smartphones, but her co-star, director, and team on stage remained silent. The lack of support from those closest to her, and the quiet watchfulness of the room, spoke volumes about the broader culture of indifference she was confronting.

As I watched the social media clips replay repeatedly over the past several weeks—clips that captured national attention—one moment stood out above all, reminding me of how deeply entrenched patriarchy, male ego, and family hierarchies continue to silence women and chastise men in South India.

It was the expression on Gouri Kishan’s face, vividly captured on camera, that spoke volumes to me: an extraordinary blend of helplessness and fierce courage.

She was summoning the strength to hold back tears, to stand tall in a room dominated by men, and fight not only for her own dignity but for every woman who has endured similar indignities. That sustained moment embodies the quiet resilience and bravery required to confront a culture that often demands silence from those it seeks to marginalize.

This is what makes Gouri Kishan’s stand so profoundly inspiring—it is a testament to the courage required to claim respect in the face of disregard. In a recent interview with India Today, Gouri reflects candidly on the incident and on that powerful moment captured on camera—the moment that left a lasting impression on me.

The Silence of Institutions: Why Support Failed Gouri Kishan in Real Time

The most troubling aspect of Gouri Kishan’s experience was not the offensive question itself, but the collective silence that surrounded it. In a room full of journalists, media professionals, film industry veterans, and her own co-star and director, virtually no one spoke up in her defense while she was being subjected to this treatment. This silence is not accidental—it reflects deeply embedded patterns in Indian society where women’s voices, particularly when they challenge male authority or established norms, are systematically marginalized and silenced. Research on women journalists in South Asia reveals a troubling pattern: women who challenge patriarchal norms face severe backlash, yet institutional support is virtually non-existent. Even more concerning is the realization that institutions—whether media organizations, film bodies, or corporate environments—often do not consider it their responsibility to intervene when gender-based disrespect occurs in real time.​​

The delayed support that eventually came for Gouri Kishan—triggered only after her video went viral on social media—highlights a significant structural issue in patriarchal societies: women’s voices often gain recognition not through institutional backing, but through widespread public validation. Press clubs, South Indian film industry bodies, and cinema collectives ultimately issued statements condemning the behavior and expressing solidarity. Numerous actors also publicly supported her. However, this backing emerged only after the incident became impossible to ignore due to viral social media attention. This pattern exposes how institutions in India tend to be reactive rather than proactive in addressing gender-based harassment and discrimination. They frequently await public pressure before taking any action, implying that without widespread social media outcry, such incidents might have been dismissed or relegated to the background noise of everyday misogyny.

Before you continue reading this free preview of an important issue that deserves understanding, discussion, and action, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. The algorithms need to be bribed so it prioritises and broadcasts these stories to a wider audience. It’s the world we live in. So your contribution makes that possible.

Help Amplify This Message

The YouTube Journalist vs. The Professional: A Question of Accountability

One of the unsettling aspects of Gouri Kishan’s experience was the role played by a so-called journalist—a YouTuber who asked the insensitive question that was less about insight and more about spectacle. The casual cruelty of that question, posed in front of cameras and a crowd, felt like an object lesson in how the new media landscape pressures film promotions to cater not to journalistic rigor, but to clicks and controversy.

This is not to dismiss the evolving landscape of journalism. YouTube creators have democratized access, given voice to many unheard, and challenged traditional gatekeepers. But with this power comes responsibility—responsibility that seems glaringly absent in that moment. The YouTuber’s question was framed as innocent curiosity, yet it reduced a professional actor to a body measurement, an object to be weighed and sized rather than respected for craft.

Contrast this with the kind of journalism practiced by seasoned reporters from global outfits like the BBC or CNN. These professionals are trained to pursue lines of inquiry that reveal character, context, and complexity. They understand when a question crosses from inquiry into insensitivity. Their ethos is not to generate clicks through discomfort, but to illuminate truth with empathy and respect.

The film fraternity, caught between traditional media and this newer model of content creators, finds itself in a precarious position. These YouTube journalists wield significant influence, shaping public perception through viral moments. Consequently, events that should be platforms for meaningful dialogue become arenas for sensationalism, often at the expense of dignity—particularly women’s.

The question then arises: should the industry implicitly endorse such conduct by giving airtime, by allowing these moment-driven queries to eclipse thoughtful discourse? And if not, what accountability mechanisms exist for these new media figures who straddle the line between journalism and entertainment? Who upholds standards when the lines blur?

Gouri Kishan’s ordeal shines a spotlight on these tensions. It exposes a system that prioritizes virality and spectacle over respect and professionalism. It challenges us to reconsider not just what questions we ask, but who we call a journalist—and what that title entails in this new age.

In a world reshaped by digital platforms, the hope is that the core values of journalism—truth, respect, ethical responsibility—are not casualties of this transition, but rather its guiding stars. Only then can we hope to create spaces where artists like Gouri are valued beyond physicality, and where questions are bridges to understanding, not weapons of marginalization.

Patriarchy, Male Ego, and Family Hierarchies: A Personal Context

To truly understand Gouri Kishan’s experience, it is essential to look at the specific cultural dynamics of South India, where deeply entrenched patriarchal hierarchies persist despite the region’s reputation for high literacy rates and relative progressivism.

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But the stories I’m retracing, the ones pressing against my screen, are quieter—not TikTok trends or viral hashtags, but encounters with real people.

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In the soft light of a Montana morning, she stood - a storyteller who never writes a word, an artist who paints without brushes. Her hands, calloused from decades of transforming empty spaces into living memories, held more stories than most libraries.

Twenty-two years of creating worlds from nothing. Not through sight, but through an almost supernatural ability to feel a narrative's heartbeat. Imagine walking into an abandoned warehouse. To most, it's just concrete and shadows. To her, it's a canvas waiting to whisper stories of forgotten cowboys, lost loves, generational struggles. Each prop, each carefully placed object isn't just decoration - it's a character waiting to breathe.

The industry tried to break her once and it will try again. Technology threatens to replace human creativity with cold, calculated algorithms. They say AI could generate images of entire sets in seconds, but could it understand the soul of a Montana sunset? The quiet desperation o…

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For me, it’s the cafe I stopped over at Lorne, Australia. We were driving back to Melbourne after a day of exploring the scenic views and beach towns along the Great Ocean Drive when I noticed a quaint little coffeehouse on the roadside overlooking the ocean. Since then, I’ve dreamt of opening my own cafe someday, when I am ready to slow down and ease into life.

For world travelers, Mykonos (Greece), seems to be the hot spot to relax by the seaside with their favorite cup o’ joe. Similar bucket list destinations flaunt breathtaking views, attracting tourists from all over the world to the lure of watching boats pass by as they sip on a cappuccino.

Unique cafes are popping up everywhere, even in small remote forgotten places. In my hometown in South India, we now have a retro themed highway tea stop which has been capturing the intrigue of young Instagrammer’s. Their USP? A recreated 1970’s village vibe! All it takes is one reel from…

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I switched my mind to HIIT mode, my body into Zone2. In less than two hours I got the job done but I was exhausted to the core.

I moved three carts at a time each overflowing with stuff from my expiring 10x10 storage unit. I pushed them one by one down the 2nd floor hallway, into the elevator, down the 3rd floor hallway, and unloaded them into my new 10x10 unit.

It took me 20 to 25 mins to complete one round of move. Seven rounds later I was done moving all this stuff that we can’t seem to get rid of. They are the remnants of what remain from the years gone by.

The stack of bankers boxes, each packed with random stuff, once had purpose in our lives. Now they lie discarded in a pile of junk, waiting to be sorted, unaware of the power they hold to take us back in time.

The storage containers, each filled with clothes that we can’t get rid of. They remind us of our “cuter” selves, of special occasions, and places we may never see again. Betrayed by our b…

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Emma learned early on as a young trained dancer that running was her true passion, because unlike dancing, it was never about chasing glory. That’s also why she enjoyed long distance runs and marathons. Less pressure, more fun. She reminded herself to endure the first 3 miles to let her mind settle and her legs to warm up, then wait for her runners-high to kick in before switching to cruise-mode.

So here she was, on a rainy Sunday morning, wearing bright green tights and a flowery holiday sweater, far away from her New York Queens life, on her way to the Santa’s Hustle 10K race in Nashville, Tennessee.

Emma was in town to spend some family time with her brother and her nephews but the timing of her visit was orchestrated around the race. In fact, all her travel escapades have almost always been planned around a running event. That’s just how she rolled, I mean, ran.

Rick Steves, the American travel writer and TV personality, says there are three ways to travel the world - as a Traveler, a Pilgrim, or a Tourist. Emma was a Traveler, and I’d like to think I am one too.

Those who travel to experience the world

I started road cycling during the pandemic. Like all my interests in the past, I quickly became obsessed with this too. I would stalk Amazon vendors for all kinds of cycling gear. I was always looking up cycling events near and far, pestering my wife to join me on my getaways. Between me and my road bike, which I named The Gold Digger, I am sure she felt like the third wheel.

Once we spent a weekend in Atlanta Georgia to participate in the “One Love” century ride, a total of 60+ miles over the rolling terrains of the Chattahoochee Hills in two days with 1300 cyclists from around the nation. To call it challenging would be an understatement. I made it to the finish line at an acceptable pace. It was my first real race, and like Emma I was not there to compete. I was in it for the experience and their famous fish fry, served at the afterparty.

We drove to Chattanooga Tennessee where I rode as a guest cyclist with a small group of regulars from the local biking club. They unlocked an entirely new way to explore a city I have been to many times before. They took me through the inner city trails and old neighborhoods, and stopped at a local farmers market. They taught me cycling etiquettes, signs cyclists use when riding in a group, and showed me why a gas station with a “beer cave” was a cyclists best friend on a hot September day.

We drove to Little Rock Arkansas, so I could ride 53 miles around the Arkansas river with 2500 cyclists for their annual “Big Dam Bridge” ride. The day after the race we explored coffee shops and found our new favorite Pakistani restaurant.

My bike tagged along on all our roadtrips that year. When I couldnt find events to partake in, I would plan solo riding routes. I rode the flat terrains of Florida around lakes and alongside beaches. I rode from downtown Chicago all the way to the Indiana border and back, in cold icy rain on a winter Friday.

The Gold Digger and I didn’t feel like tourists in those places. We were blending in with the locals, and I left with a deeper connection that I had not felt before.

“Ideally, travel broadens our perspectives personally, culturally, and politically. Suddenly, the palette with which we paint the story of our lives has more colors.” —— Rick Steves

Those who travel to find themselves

In India, December through January is the peak season for the famous Sabarimala pilgrimage, when many Hindu pilgrims from remote parts of India begin their journey after 41 days of fasting.

The pilgrims wearing black clothing, beaded chains around their necks and wrists, carry a sacred bundle with offerings for their deity and just enough provisions for the strenuous path ahead to reach the foothills of the mountain to pay homage to Lord Ayyappa, the son of Lord Shiva, a symbol of unity, who’s path they follow.

The real test of mettle starts with a final 46km (or 26 miles) crowded trek up a slippery uphill mountain trail in order to reach 18 steep gold-plated steps that leads up to the gold-crowned temple of worship.

The most devout of these pilgrims even walked the entire way, from their home to the temple, barefoot.

It is a humbling trip for the estimated half a millions pilgrims who travel this path of penance every year, to detach themselves of their material processions. Rick Steves calls it the way of the Pilgrim.

“Regardless of your journey, you can put a little pilgrim in your travels and find your own personal jubilation.” —— Rick Steves

But not all pilgrims travel for religious reasons, as evidenced by NatGeo list of the top 10 pilgrimage routes in the world. People just want to detox from their digital TikTok lives.

Those who capture more and experience less.

Emma once traveled to the Grand Canyon with her mom. At the entrance to the trail they saw a guy entering with very few supplies, clearly not enough for the challenging trail ahead. Anyone who’s traversed this trail before knows that you pack more than you need not less, Emma thought, and asked the park ranger if they should warn him.

“That’s a TikTok tourist”, said the ranger, “and he’ll probably learn the hard way. We always keep an eye on them.”

In our eagerness to take a selfie, frame a scene, and post that reel, many tourists tend to be oblivious of the dangers that lurk ahead.

This was evident when we visited Yellowstone National Park last year. Despite the abundance of cautionary signs it is surprising how many tourists fall prey to their carelessness. The reports of missing hikers who went off trail, of thermal burn victims who went too close to the geysers, are reported far too often. The most recent incident reported was of the 83-year-old woman who was gored by a bison when she approached too lose to the wild animal.

Many popular tourist destinations are also seeing protests against mass tourism. In Barcelona this summer, tourists were driven out of restaurants by locals who fired squirt-guns at them while chanting “Tourists Go Home”. Similar protests are also reported in other European destinations such as Italy, Greece, and Amsterdam.

The major impact of overtourism is the displacement of local people. Young families in particular are struggling to find affordable housing in the city and, as more apartments are rented out full time to visitors, many residents are starting to find that they don’t know their neighbours anymore. ¹

The world is becoming increasingly hostile for a tourist. Protests, uprisings, and never-ending wars prevent us from crossing off our “been there, done that” destination bucket list. It is the 21st century reality. “We are in Kaliyuga2”, my grandfather would have said. Gone are the days of the hippie trails when expressive travelers toured the world freely, and mesmerized locals looked at tourists in awe and wonder.

Rick Steves says the only way to over overcome fear is by understanding. This philosophy is of more significance today than ever before. He urges us to visit the popular landmarks but also the lesser known ones, to travel with our curiosity but also with respect.

“I travel around the world in a way that tries to open my mind and give me empathy and inspire me to come home and make this world a better place.” —— Rick Steves

Arrivederci

My most memorable international trip was in 2015 when my wife and I journeyed the length of Italy, from North to South in 11 days. We immersed ourselves in the local culture and cuisine, from the busy fashion-forward city centers of Milan to the architectural wonders of Florence, from the forgotten streets of Old Naples to the coastal villages of the Amalfi Coast, from the magnificent castle towns of Umbria to the serene and picturesque vineyards of Tuscany.

We would sit at the piazza’s observing the locals who gathered every evening to wine down their day with music, dancing and laughter. We were in love with Italy.

I had learned some Italian phrases for our trip. A frustrated pastry shop staff who dealt with unruly tourists all day managed to break a smile for us when I asked for the bill in Italian: “il conto, Por Favore!” I could tell that he appreciated it, that I cared enough to even try.

We asked to be seated at the chef’s table in local restaurants where we learned about Italian cooking styles, that the delicious meat plate the chef had curated for us came from his early morning hunt. “Arrivederci” I said as we got up to leave. “Grazie, arrivederci”, he responded.

“Arrivederci” means “until we see each other again” - a powerful word which is more than a good bye. It communicates that the guests want to return, and the hosts hope that you will. I hope that all my future travels end on that note.

Thank you for reading. Arrivederci.

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Though she lives 967 miles away, the anticipation was palpable. My tickets were booked, and my hotel reservations confirmed. The countdown had begun.

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