Bakwas Bath

Product managers are a strange breed. The flock from all sorts with every possible overused cliché for a backstory you can think of. If the ever expanding digital landscape can be likened to an unending ocean then these ‘Product Folks’ are the pirates of these high seas. Like the social rejects that were the ‘scallywags’ of old, this creed of men all flock under a common banner with no nation to call their own; they don't belong in tech, not with design and are shunned by business. They are the homeless and the loveless, always searching for their next big booty; armed with cannons of redundant KPIs and bullshit jargon they sail. But of all the treasures they pursue, the once most prized of all, the one all seek but few ever achieve, the one that really gets their dicks hard in the morning : What makes a product truly Great? So look no further for I have the answer. Well not really, that would be way too presumptuous of me. What I do have is a product I really like and a fairly goo...

I was born into a cold winter night. After struggling for what seemed like an eon the shell of my egg finally cracked and I peered into the world outside. I still remember the first sight I ever saw, my father’s ball sack all shrivelled up by the Antarctic winds as he kept me warm between his legs. Averting my gaze, not wanting to make things too awkward during our first interaction I saw the beautiful night sky lit up in a thousand colours of the cold winter months. I heard my tribe sing the song of my people, praying for the fish to be plenty and the seals that hunted us to be few and far in between. Frankly I didn't care for any of it, I’d much rather go back inside my egg where it was warm and quiet and completely safe from unfortunate scrotal sightings. It was during that very first night that doubt first arose in my mind that maybe I was born a penguin but would much rather not be one; and this thought has haunted me my entire life. I never liked the plain colour pattern o...

Cats: I like cats. I’m not a big pet person but if I were ever forced to keep a pet, I’d most likely adopt a feral kitten. I feel they would be a lot less emotionally dependent on me and we could set up a somewhat symbiotic relationship. It would not be My Cat, the sole property of its owner; but rather a cat that happens to live under the same roof as me. A freeloading roommate of sorts. And I in part will not have to make my pet cat my entire personality (here’s looking at you Dog lovers) but rather a source of companionship in my day to day. A mellow co-dependent form of living where a man and a cat, both distinct individuals live their own unique lives. A neighbourhood zen monk meditating One of my earliest childhood memories is of a feral molly which gave birth to a litter of kittens on the tin roof of our old house. For about a month I would awake to the incessant meowing of the kittens as they called out to their mother for food and warmth. I would always try to catch a glimpse...

Dear Masala Chai, There are many major milestones in life. The first time you stand up and walk on your own, the first day in school, the 16th birthday, the day you move out from your parents home and your first job to list a few. They stand as markers as you transition from one phase of life to another. The big one for me, when I felt like I had really grown up, was when I tasted you for the first time and enjoyed it, my first real cup of masala chai. Strange things happen to a young boy as he flows through puberty, his voice deepens, his mood becomes more turbulent, hormones rage and facial hair begins to appear(or so I’m told, didn’t really experience the last one). Amongst these changes also blossoms his first love, when someone or something which earlier seemed so trivial and bland and aroused in him no real emotion; suddenly captures his sanity and rules over his thoughts from dusk till dawn. You were that something for me, my sweet Masal Chai. In my boyhood you seemed so unappea...

' Here am I floating 'round my tin can , far above the moon Planet Earth is blue , And there's nothing I can do.'     Thus concludes David Bowie’s epic space ballad; the bittersweet tale of a lonely Astronaut stuck forever in the vast oblivion of outer space. The song however cuts deeper for the more impassioned fans of Bowie, who identify it as the late singer-songwriter's struggle with his own loneliness and depression. And today in the pandemic ravaged world, its core message rings truer than ever before. Reading an article in the Harvard Magazine entitled ‘The Loneliness Pandemic’ I was left both shocked and comforted by how strongly I related to its contents. My struggles I found out were not all unique but in fact as much a trademark of my generation as effeminate East Asian pop stars, bizarre feline humour and unhealthy obsessions with early 2000s’ sitcoms. The ubiquitous nature of loneliness today indicates a failure of society on a more fundamental leve...

  All great writers have written in their time,   But who has written about what they have written with;   I talk of the pen, a writers partner in crime   And I will use mine to write only about it.     The pen is perhaps the greatest invention of man,   Maybe not in design, impact or exuberance;   But the sheer power that flows from its tip   Has created Gods out of ordinary men     ' Power ? ' -you say . ' Surely a weapon can cause a lot more pain   Than a plastic cylinder with a bit of ink ?   What power can you see in the humble pen?   After all it is just a fiddly little thing. '     Yes what you say is true, Weapons can cause a lot more destruction   It can flatten mountains and reduce our world to dust and rock;   But can It make your blood boil ? Can it make your soul Burn?   Now pen and paper, that's the stuff legends are made of.     Words can make men rise to peaks...

Motivation is a promiscuous bedfellow  -Chirag Roy I quote this all the time to friends, family and anyone else who would bother to listen to my meandering train of thought (often masked as life advice). I felt ridiculously wise when I first came up with this line. This is it I thought; the bedrock of my inevitable TED talk which will hit 20 million views and propel me to a life of internet stardom. I had all but started googling ‘How to handle fame’. But then, a problem arose. I couldn't help but feel like a fraud because for all my talk about not relying on motivation, I was hopelessly addicted to it. Like a junkie desperate for the next shot, I found myself unable to get any kind of work done without finding a way to sufficiently incentivize myself. I had fallen into the very trap I kept on warning others about and I just couldn't get myself out. Much like that obnoxious vegan secretly gorging on tandoori chicken behind closed doors, not only was I scamming the public but al...