Small things

Of bulbuls, new layers in music, clouds and stuff.

The nest

Over the fortnight, the cause of most joy in the Gopalakrishnan-Ramesh household has been a bulbul’s nest outside our window. We saw its twig by twig creation, we woke up to find eggs in it one morning, and post-hatch, saw the transition from scrawny chicklings to feathered balls to finally, yesterday, taking flight.

It gave us unimaginable happiness. Maybe it was because we saw a prior attempt at family-building sabotaged by a Bharadwaj, surely the most hilarious name for a vicious bird. Perhaps it was because it was right here outside our window, creating quite the racket. But most likely the reason is more prosaic - this little miracle is just another, daily procedure of nature, and has been happening for billions of years. A tiny little blob was able to eat a whole grasshopper on day 7, and fly on day 9. And here I am, an apparently higher being sheepishly asking AI where I can find my damn Income Tax challan.

---

Easy productivity

A decent way to feel like you’ve accomplished something is to have tasks that feel like you need to make an effort but really just take a minute and can make you feel like you’re slaying the day. For me that’s cutting nails. And if that’s not an option or feels too trivial, I cut the cats’ nails. That way I can say I’ve extended the life of my poor sofa by a month, too.

---

A new piece of the puzzle

I love finding new things about my favourite songs. Sometimes it’s a small thing, like a piano I never noticed before (chorus, System of a Down’s Chop Suey!). Perhaps it’s more musical - like realising that two sections have the same chord patterns with different emotional intensity (Opeth’s Ghost of Perdition). Sometimes it’s because it helps me understand my own tastes better - that I like long songs with space and where each note is carefully placed (Pink Floyd, Dogs) or seeming chaos that all makes sense in a cathartic climax (Cult of Luna, Cygnus). To me the best songs are those where there is something new to discover on each listen.

My wife has got into jigsaw puzzles of late and it seems to give her a lot of satisfaction putting the finite pieces where they are. For me with music, it’s like there are potentially more pieces to find. Maybe that musical light bulb that made the latest listen of Master of Puppets is just a figment of my own making, unintented by the writers.

Maybe all art is this way. Yes, there are some deliberate phrases PG Wodehouse wrote to elicit laughter - but what if there was a particular line John Green wrote that felt meaningful because of something that happened earlier to the reader in the day, rather than something the author intended?

There’s this popular saying that once a piece of art is published, it no longer belongs to the creator; it belongs to the reader / listener / viewer. I think about that a lot when I unearth new findings from my favourite songs. Ooh - was this satisfying enunciation intentional? That violin cameo - was it intentionally done just once or was it a mistake? This anguish in vocals mirrors my feelings today - was the singer going through something on the day?

There’s a new piece to discover each time, on each listen. Feels like there’s an infinite puzzle to unravel.

---

Clouds

I am an absolute sucker for clouds. The messier the sky, the better. All those freaky weird shapes - layer upon layer, a veritable palette of greys and blues, all moving in different speeds - just does something to me man. Some highlighted by the setting sun, some menacingly hovering before bursting into rain, some that seem uniform and boring but on closer inspection reveals character.

One of the reasons I love monsoons, sunsets, and monsoon sunsets.

Technically speaking, clouds are not ‘small things’ - but staring at them is free.

---

Comments sections

Staying away from internet comments section is generally recommended for one’s mental health. I agree if the topic is politics, AI or freshly-concluded cricket games. But if you want to feel good about humanity, life, and subcontinental brotherhood, certain comments sections can be wonderful - such as those of Coke Studio PK videos.

---

Spam

It feels strange to say, but spam is reassuring. I don’t invite spam, but if there is something unread or needs tending, I feel relief if it’s spam. If I wake up in the morning and see 3 new WhatsApp messages, I get worried. What happened, what did I do, what do I need to reply to, does someone (eeks!) want to ‘pick my brain’ or worse, ‘catch up’? Oh it’s just Airtel trying to peddle a loan or some D2C brand I bought from year ago telling me about an offer. Similarly, when I open LinkedIn and I see a new DM, I feel relief when it’s just some executive MBA ad. Worst of all, of course, are phone calls. When the phone rings I can physically feel tension - and then I see TrueCaller’s big red banner with some samaritan having labelled the caller in colourful language, and my heart rate goes back to normal.

---

Window fogging workouts

I sweat a lot, especially during intense workouts. Rather than seeing this as a failing, I’ve come to gamify this. Particularly during HIIT / full-body conditioning workouts that I do with Unlock, I see how exothermic things can get. I work out at home, so it’s fun to see how fogged up I can make the windows.

So while a smartwatch can give me things like zone minutes and all that, my measure of how intense a workout gets is how foggy the window gets.

---

An ordinary life

One of the most influential quotes in my life in recent years is by the late author Amy Krouse Rosenthal who said: Pay attention to what you pay attention to.

Actually, I never heard her say it - it was referenced by author John Green on his podcast, Dear Hank and John. It truly did strike a chord, I’ve used it so many times but felt guilty that I never really read a book by the quoter. I corrected that over the last week by devouring her slice-of-life memor, Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life.

It is funny, profound, insightful, thoughtful, sad, happy, overall delightful. She may or may not have led an ordinary life, but going through it, you realise that there is so much joy in the everyday and everything. This entire post was pretty much inspired by the book and its format.

Yes, the magnificent scuba diving vacations are great, but there’s joy in seeing nature do its thing outside your window.

Of course going to Lollapalooza and seeing your favourite artists in the flesh is Insta-worthy but there is joy to be derived out of hearing that tiny acoustic guitar lurking in the background which you never realised was there despite hearing Dogs 300 times before.

Yes, you can take the effort of trekking up a mountain to be moved by nature, but if you’re on a time and energy budget you could also just look up at the sky and marvel how droplets and wind form those magnificent formations up there.

Inbox Zero is a noble goal, but relief that the new mail you’ve received doesn’t need to be replied to and can just be instantly deleted gives you small happiness.

When the world feel like it’s crumbling and there’s nothing but hate everywhere, you take five minutes to go to the comments of Blockbuster and see we’re all one and most people are just nice.

When projects aren’t moving, clipping nails is 30 seconds to feeling productive and cleaner.

Here’s wishing you some nice big things, but very many nice small things.