wanderlust__

yoga day is incomplete without this😂

When Mike Tyson returned to the ring in 1995, it felt like every celebrity on the planet showed up to watch. The fight was over in just 89 seconds

She couldn't speak human words but her desperate barks said everything Please save my baby. Such is the boundless love of a mother.

Dad I love you, I miss you, I wish you were here, you are and will always be my strength.

Do your kitchen also looks like this? 😉

Baat aisi karo ki log baat Krna hi chhor de.

Most iconic song shot yet on the monsoons in Mumbai. It still looks fresh after 5 decades.

I spent five years in radio. Five years of living inside a medium that didn’t just give me a career, but gave me a voice. Today, as reports emerge of radio stations shutting down across the world, local stations being replaced by syndicated feeds from larger cities, and budgets shrinking year after year, it feels like I’m watching an old friend slowly fade away. Radio listenership is declining globally. Streaming platforms, podcasts, YouTube and algorithm-driven playlists have changed how we consume audio. The numbers tell one story. But those of us who lived radio know another. We remember when radio was magic. When a song on air could make an entire family hum together. When long drives had a soundtrack chosen by a stranger in a studio. When listeners called in not because an app prompted them to, but because they genuinely wanted to connect. When RJs became companions, not content creators. I built the Jammu and Srinagar stations brick by brick, show by show, minute by minute. I watched frequencies become communities. I watched voices become friends. I watched radio become a part of people’s daily rituals. And one day, very soon, there may be a radio silence. Just like cassettes.
Just like VCDs.
Just like single-screen theatres growing emptier every year. Shared experiences are disappearing. For 90s kids like me, radio was one of the last remaining places where everyone heard the same song at the same time. Where culture wasn’t fragmented into algorithms and personalised feeds. Where there was still something collective about joy. Maybe that’s what I’ll miss the most. Thank you, radio. For the confidence.
For the friendships.
For the memories. And for teaching a shy kid from Jammu that sometimes, a voice travelling through the air can change a life