Rishi Gaurav Bhatnagar

What if you're just a character whose role is to keep the story moving? My brother's words, "the point is to take a step," changed how I see agency. Action builds confidence to take more actions. But high agency without control is painful too. The resolution: give things a fighting chance. The story does what it does. I'm learning to live from delulu belief in life's magic till my time comes.

I remember landing in my hometown after a month in Europe. When my mum unpacked a thali with pan-fried paneer, bhindi, and paranthas in the car, tears rolled down my eyes. I was loving what I 'hated' growing up: packing food for travels. Growing up middle-class in Rajasthan, I thought we packed food because we couldn't afford to eat out. It took travelling the world to realise the wisdom behind it. What has come around is my mother's love.

I dreamt of a beautiful yellow and red carpet in a warm home filled with people, laughter, and books. I was sitting on it, eating pasta, feeling completely at peace. Weeks later, I found myself in Egypt, speaking beside the pyramids, and then wandering through the ancient lanes of Marrakech. From a Rajasthani lock in Cairo to the same yellow-red carpet hanging on a wall in Morocco, I could only laugh and whisper Makhtub — it is written. Maybe that’s what destiny really is, no

Learning how to say goodbye is one of adulthood’s hardest lessons. We live with the absence of loved ones—friends who move away, people we lose forever. In airports, memories return, teaching me that coping with goodbyes is really about carrying their love into every chapter of life.

“I asked her how she coped—seeing animals in pain, sometimes not making it. She paused, then said something that’s stayed with me ever since: ‘Our job is to give them a fighting chance. That’s all. The healing, or what happens next, is up to nature.’ That phrase—fighting chance—became a compass. Whether in work, love, or loss, I now ask myself: have I done my part to give something or someone a fighting chance? The rest, I’ve learned, is not mine to control. And somehow, tha

My thoughts are mixtapes, and I can chose which ones I play. An exploration of the human condition.

Written at 2:07am, 4th June, 2025 | Bangalore, India I have been very curious about where hope comes from. Especially in our human condition, where we are on the verge of losing our own voice to the noise of reels. Critical thought is already fading, and we are so out of touch with ourselves and the communities that matter. Where the idea of love and connection seems to have become an intellectual concept that can be written about in a million ways. But we struggle to find ou

Written on January 4th, 2022. Many weeks ago, I found an oddly shaped egg in my kitchen and I knew I hadn’t ordered it, yet it was there....

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