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Showing posts from October, 2026

The Human Behind the Leather Jacket

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Jensen Huang. AI-generated illustration based on a photograph. When I first saw the news about Jensen Huang, I almost scrolled past it. Another achievement for Nvidia, I thought. Another statement about AI. His name has become so closely associated with both that I expected little else. When my wife asked whether I had seen the reports, I dismissed them. “You know, everything is fake news these days. Don’t believe everything you read.” It was an easy response. Perhaps too easy. Was I questioning the reports, or was I reluctant to believe something troubling about someone I admired? Then, over the weekend, came his letter to Nvidia employees , acknowledging that he had been unfaithful to his wife and apologizing to his family and colleagues. That was difficult to read. His resignation followed a few days later. I have followed Nvidia since the late nineties, when desktop computers ...
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The Years They Will Remember

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Akhil and Sahana with thatha. Akhil is in sixth grade. Sahana is in fourth grade. My own fourth grade feels like a blur, but I remember sixth grade quite well. Mrs. Vijayalakshmi was our class teacher. She was outstanding at teaching English. At BP Indian, grammar, punctuation, and the structure of a composition mattered. Some of my classmates had a natural flair for writing, and I loved reading how they put their thoughts on paper. I came third in class that year and received a merit prize. I still remember the books: Five Have a Wonderful Time by Enid Blyton and Grandmother’s Tale by R. K. Narayan. I still have my copy of Grandmother’s Tale . Inside is the school’s prize label: third rank, Class VI D, 1992–93, awarded to Subbarathinam—the name I went by then. My sixth-grade merit prize. I still have the book. ...
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When the Temple Was a Walk Away

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A five-minute walk required so little thought. I could simply step out. In Malleswaram, a friend turning up at our house in the evening usually meant we were going for a walk. A couple of friends from school or college would come over, and we would head to the nearby Hanuman temple. Afterward, we would stop at the railway station to watch the trains go by, talking, pulling each other’s legs, and figuring out where to get our next plate of bhel or masala puri. Uncomplicated. Even on days when nobody came, I would take the walk to the temple. There would inevitably be a few familiar faces to greet. Then I would lay out a plan with Hanuman so that he could help me figure out whatever was worrying me. A lab exam, a semester exam, a job interview. There was usually something coming up that required his attention. It was comforting to put everything before him. I could tell him what was on ...
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Temporarily Lost Forever

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Once, we walked to a friend’s door. Now, we hesitate to call. Two months ago, I called a friend I have known for twenty years. He didn’t answer. We still haven’t spoken. I don’t know why he hasn’t called back. But I know the hesitation myself: seeing an old friend’s name on the phone, wanting to talk, and somehow not feeling ready for what should be a simple conversation. I remember a time when visiting a friend meant going to his house without knowing whether he would be there. Mobile phones weren’t part of our lives, and even a landline wasn’t something every household had. You went, knocked, and found out. There was anticipation on the way, disappointment if he was absent, excitement if he was home. If you missed him, you might try again the next day. None of this felt like too much trouble. Now, the same friend is an instant message away. Yet we can go months without speaking. ...
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