Crime and Punishment in 3 minutes!

 

On French etiquette of diet

(Stealing from a friend)

Today I had dinner at Entre Nous, a beautiful and classy French bistro. We were lucky to get a reservation, so I went in with a very clear and noble mission:

Grass-fed steak, French butter melting on top, and greens to my heart’s desire.

Of course, since I don’t drink alcohol, the waiter politely offered us French wine, especially Merlot. Very elegant. Very French. Very tempting for people who drink. We smiled and asked for our usual high-society beverage:

Diet Coke.

The waiter looked at us like we had asked him to microwave a croissant.

He said, very politely but firmly,

“We don’t serve Diet Coke.”

Then, before we could recover from this emotional trauma, the real French owner appeared. Heavy French accent. Serious face. Full culinary authority. The man looked like he had personally drafted the constitution of French food.

He said:

“Monsieur, we do not serve artificial drinks, chemicals, Diet Coke, or decaf drinks. Everything here must be natural. Whole milk. Real cheese. Real butter. Real ingredients. This is what I learned in France, and this is what I practice here.”

At that moment, I realized this was not just a restaurant.

This was a French nutritional courtroom, and Diet Coke had just been sentenced to life imprisonment.

No Diet Coke.

No decaf.

No fake cheese.

No chemical shortcuts.

No nonsense.

Only real food, real butter, real cream, real cheese, real coffee, and real attitude.

And suddenly, I thought of my visits to France.

Beautiful surroundings, clean air, greenery, parks, walkable streets, and a healthier lifestyle are wonderful goals. But the real question is:

Can we also build healthier eating habits?

Because healthy citizens are not created by parks alone. They are created by daily discipline: real food, smaller portions, walking, clean habits, and less dependence on fake, processed, chemical-loaded items.

Whenever I visit France, I’m amazed. You can walk through entire streets and barely see obesity. If I do see one or two obese people, I quietly think:

“These are probably tourists. The real French are inside, eating butter with dignity and still staying thin.”

That is the French mystery.

They eat butter, cheese, bread, cream, steak, and dessert — yet somehow they don’t expand like a Pakistani wedding buffet line.

Their secret is simple:

Real food. Small portions. Slow eating. Lots of walking. No fake chemicals. No emotional relationship with unlimited refills.

The lesson from tonight was clear:

A healthy society needs green spaces, clean air, walkable neighborhoods, and beautiful homes.

But it also needs a culture of wholesome food, disciplined portions, and respect for the body.

The French may have their Merlot.

Though I must admit, my Diet Coke is still in mourning!

Les Misérables in 3 minutes

 

khas!

 

On Blue Lizard

 

A unique Blue Lizard which is found in the Petra area of Jordan. The lizard is also called the Sinai agama. It is also found in Syria, Sinai, and Israel, but Jordan is still the best place to see it. It lives between the rocks in the Petra area. It avoids contact with people, so it has moved to areas that are inaccessible to tourists. That’s why it is hard to see it. It is a cold-blooded (ectothermic) animal, so it has to come out in the open in the morning on boulders, cliffs, or piles of stone to bask in the sun in order to store energy. Sitting in the sun, it frequently opens its mouth (‘gaping’). Gaping is used for thermoregulation by releasing excess body heat. This is important as the lizards do not sweat to cool down. Once energized, it goes back to its hiding place between the rocks. It is usually dull brown in color, but the male turns bright blue in the head and throat only during the mating season. So, there is a very narrow window of opportunity to see it in blue. The female doesn’t change colors. Its limbs and tail are long and thin, allowing for good climbing and running capability. It feeds on insects and plants. Unlike other members of the genus Agama, its third toe is the longest rather than the fourth. Please see the photograph. It appears that the lizard is quite low on energy to run away. The best it could do is to change positions. Once sufficiently recharged, it ran away. Wildlife is so unpredictable. You have to be at the right place at the right time. 

Life!

کیا ھو گیا ھے وقت کو نجانے

لمحوں میں گزرتے ھیں زمانے 

Stereotyping

کبھی اپنی آنکھ سے زندگی پہ نظر نہ کی

وہی زاویے کہ جو عام تھے مجھے کھا گئے

خورشید رضوی 

To Be or Not To Be - Explained

 

Mehenge Tohfe

 

"200 bricks and 2,000 words a day"

 Winston Churchill has an enormous reputation for being an alcoholic, yet he remained such a powerful politician who could see the future and made many accurate calculations in his political moves.

Winston Churchill used to lay 200 bricks per day to keep his mind busy when feeling down. Depression hates a moving target. 

Bricklaying Goal: Churchill described his routine as producing "200 bricks and 2,000 words a day" to balance mental work with physical labor. It was in his rural estate in Kent.

A Huge Lesson From History

 When I see how MAGA people behave in today's America

Growing together (and apart)

 I was traveling through the small towns of the French Riviera last week and saw this simple yet profound artwork at the town's entrance.

Where Men and Women Differ

 

One Hundred Years of Solitude - in 3 minutes

 

Koe'L ki Kuk

 The birds don't sing, they screech in pain.

Tarbeeat

(Not necessarily to agree, but a powerful thought)

ایک شخص نے کسی سے پوچھا کہ مجھے بتلائیں کہ میں اپنے بیٹے کی کیسے تربیت کروں؟

انہوں نے پوچھا کتنی عمر ہے اسکی؟

آدمی نے کہا:7ماہ

انہوں نے کہا کہ  : تم نے تو بہت تاخیر کردی ہے،اولاد کی تربیت تو ماں کے انتخاب سے شروع ہوتی ہے

Medicine and AI

 One of my mentors said something beautiful.

"AI may be able to build an algorithm to treat all diseases, but healing comes from the human touch to the human skin. The biggest healing power lies in holding human hands. There is a difference between treating and healing".

Humans and AI

 

My Coffee

 

Only 3 Lines :)

 

The Grapes of Wrath (Sufferings of Immigration)

 

Homer

 

Poetry and Literature - One of the finest of Robin Williams

 

Othello

 

A story posted on net

 I was in prison for killing a guy who had abused my 14-year-old brother. I served a 29-year sentence and finally got a release date. When I told my brother, he was so happy. I can still hear his voice saying, "I can't believe it! I'm going to talk to my boss about hiring you." Calm down, little brother, take it easy. I still have 16 months left. Anyway, eight months before my release, the captain called me into his office. It was full of guards. I was alarmed by how many there were. After a few minutes of them trying to convince me to sit down, I finally did, but only after they sat down first. They told me I could make a call. I called my brother, but he didn't answer. Then they told me my brother had died. I didn't believe them. I called again, his wife answered, and she told me everything. I was devastated. They asked me whether I wanted to speak with a priest or go to a private cell. I didn't. I went down to the courtyard, found a place where no one was around, and started to cry. It was the saddest moment of my life.

A lesson learned from Macbeth

 

A disturbing picture

 

Amaltas and Summer

“Still the Amaltas bloomed, a brilliant, defiant yellow. Each blazing summer it reached up and whispered to the hot brown sky, F*** You.” -Arundhati Roy

 

Dostoevsky and Hans Holbein's 'The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb'

 

(A conversation between Dostoevsky and Nietzsche) 

Painted between 1520 and 1522 by Hans Holbein the Younger, The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb shows Christ laid out in death, moments before any imagined resurrection. The painting is life-sized, roughly 30.5 cm by 200 cm, measuring like a real tomb, forcing us to see Christ not as a holy figure, but as a corpse.

There is no halo, no light, no suggestion of divinity. Holbein gives us a human body in decay: emaciated limbs, discolored skin, dead weight sinking into darkness. The only signs that this is Christ are the wounds on his hands, feet, side, and the stark inscription above him. According to legend, Holbein may have used the body of a drowned man from the Rhine as his model. The result is a painting so real it strips away hope.

In 1867, on the way to Geneva, Dostoevsky and his wife Anna stopped in Basel. They visited the Kunstmuseum. There, Dostoevsky stood before Holbein’s painting and was completely shaken by its brutal reality. Anna later wrote:

“On our way to Geneva, we stopped for a day in Basel to see a painting … [it] depicts Christ … decaying. His bloated face is covered with bloody wounds, and his appearance is terrible. The painting had a crushing impact on Fyodor Mikhailovich. He stood before it as if stunned. … expecting the attack from one minute to the next. Luckily, this did not happen. … he insisted on returning once again to view this painting which had struck him so powerfully.”

She added:

“Fedya … was enraptured by it and, wishing to see it more closely, he climbed on a chair.”

From Anna’s words, it’s pretty clear that it broke something in Dostoevsky. Because if Christ, the most perfect being, ends like this - what hope is there for the rest of us? And he really began to struggle with that.

Soon after, in Geneva, he started writing The Idiot. Holbein’s painting shows up in the book more than once. It hangs in Rogozhin’s house, and it’s not just decoration. It becomes a moment of deep crisis for two characters: Prince Myshkin and Ippolit.

Myshkin, who’s sensitive and pure, is shaken by it. He says:

“That picture! That picture!” cried Muishkin, struck by a sudden idea. “Why, a man’s faith might be ruined by looking at that picture!” (Part 2, Chapter 4)

Then there’s Ippolit, a dying teenager who’s been fighting his own fear of death. He stares at the painting and says:

“This blind, dumb, implacable, eternal, unreasoning force is well shown in the picture, and the absolute subordination of all men and things to it is so well expressed that the idea unconsciously arises in the mind of anyone who looks at it. All those faithful people who were gazing at the cross and its mutilated occupant must have suffered agony of mind that evening; for they must have felt that all their hopes and almost all their faith had been shattered at a blow. They must have separated in terror and dread that night, though each perhaps carried away with him one great thought which was never eradicated from his mind for ever afterwards. If this great Teacher of theirs could have seen Himself after the Crucifixion, how could He have consented to mount the Cross and to die as He did? This thought also comes into the mind of the man who gazes at this picture.” (Part 3, Chapter 6)

That’s what Dostoevsky saw that day in Basel. Not just a terrifying painting, but something that shook his core beliefs. It may have been the moment that started his deep wrestling with God, and with his own faith. You can see that struggle not only in The Idiot, but even more powerfully in The Brothers Karamazov, where questions about God, suffering, and the meaning of faith are pushed to their absolute limit.

#copied from internet

Rishte, zarooratain aur umeedain

 Sifawaye ma baap ke saare rishte zarooratoN aur UmeedoN ke mohtaj hote hain

Jab rishtoN se zarooratoN ki khu kam ho jaati hai, aur umeedoN ki lo madham paR jaati hai, to rishte bhi amar-des sadhaar jaate hain

I don't know (either)

 

Pretty Accurate

 

Constrains!

کیسے کوئی عزیز روایات چھوڑ دے 

کیسے کوئی عزیز روایات چھوڑ دے 

کچھ کھیل ہے کہ کہنہ حکایات چھوڑ دے 

گھٹی میں تھے جو حل وہ خیالات چھوڑدے 

ماں کا مزاج باپ کی عادات چھوڑدے 

کس جی سے کوئی رشتۂ اوہام چھوڑ دے 

ورثے میں جو ملے ہیں وہ اصنام توڑ دے 

اوہام کا رباب قدامت کا ارغنوں 

فرسودگی کا سحر روایات کا فسوں 

اقوال کا مراق حکایات کا جنوں 

رسم و رواج و صحبت و میراث و نسل و خوں 

افسوس یہ وہ حلقۂ دام خیال ہے 

جس سے بڑے بڑوں کا نکلنا محال ہے

(جوش ملیح آبادی) 

Friends

 

Society, Elites and Common Men

 

Love and Universe

 

Ma!

‏صوفی غلام مصطفیٰ تبسم کو اپنی موت سے چند سال قبل اپنی والدہ کی موت کا صدمہ پہنچا تو انہوں نے کہا ، اس دنیا میں ایک ہی وجود ایسا تھا جو مجھے مصطفیٰ کہہ کر پکارتا تھا، ماں کے ساتھ یہ مصطفیٰ بھی وفات پاگیا. 

اس وقت میں ان کی یہ بات پوری طرح نہیں سمجھا تھا مگر یکم مارچ کو پوری طرح سمجھ گیا جب میری ماں کے ساتھ منیر احمد بھی وفات پا گیا.

منو بھائی ، مارچ 1983 

On Human's Intellectual Evolution

 

Aik hi Hadsa to hai....

As Murshid said:

 

To our former selves

 Loved this - Beautiful

As they say in Urdu - Sohbat e barham or Jab Aatish jawan tha

A lesson on evolution and survival

 

Life goes on!

 

Been there

 

Wise Sayings

 

The hierarchy of Humor

 

Well Painted!

 

The right shyr

 

The “satellite child” and the “walking-stick child.”

(A forward)

Many of my parents' generation sent their kids abroad for better opportunities, and most stayed on; some came back, but the parents found themselves vulnerable in their old age. One such child has shared their family experience, and I think of all the ones in the same situation! 

In many families, there are two roles: the “satellite child” and the “walking-stick child.”

On the day of my mother’s funeral, I arrived feeling important. A rented luxury SUV, an impeccable black suit, and expensive sunglasses. I believed I was the pillar of the family. The child who “showed up.” The successful one. The one who never failed… at least with bank transfers.

I’ve lived abroad for thirty years. I did well. My own company, stability, comfort. Every month, without fail, I sent 400 dollars to my younger brother, Pablo — the one who stayed with Mom in the old house in our hometown. I kept telling myself: “Thanks to me, they lack nothing.” “With my money, Mom is fine.” I felt at peace. I felt responsible.

After the burial, I went into the house and started doing what many people do when they come back for a visit: judging.

— Why is the garden dry?

— The walls need painting.

— Why was Mom so thin in the coffin? Didn’t you give her what I told you?

Pablo didn’t answer. He was sitting in the kitchen, wearing an old T-shirt, with deep dark circles under his eyes and hands full of calluses. He looked exhausted. Defeated. Ten years older than me… even though he’s three years younger.

Then I offered “the solution” in a generous tone:

— I think it’s best to sell the house. I don’t need the money. We’ll split it 60–40; you keep more since you stayed here.

I expected gratitude. I received the truth.

Pablo slowly stood up, pulled an old school notebook from a drawer — wrinkled, stained — and dropped it on the table.

— Read, he said.

It was a logbook of everyday hell.

October 2: Mom didn’t sleep. She screamed all night, asking for you. I changed her diaper five times. She bit me when I tried to bathe her.

November 9: The money wasn’t enough for the medications. I sold my motorcycle.

December 25: She didn’t recognize anyone. She cried because “the successful son” didn’t call. I played an old recording of your voice to calm her. I ate a sandwich next to her bed.

January 10: The doctor says my back is damaged from lifting her. I can’t work this week.

I couldn’t keep reading. The lump in my throat was suffocating me.

Pablo looked straight at me and said, without shouting, without hatred:

— You sent 400 dollars, Carlos. Thank you. But you slept eight hours a night. You had weekends. Vacations. A life.

He touched his chest.

— I haven’t slept a full night in four years. I lost my girlfriend. I gave up my career. I stayed so Mom wouldn’t die alone or end up in a nursing home. Money doesn’t clean diapers. Money doesn’t endure insults from a sick mind. Money doesn’t hug a terrified mother at three in the morning.

He took one step closer.

— Sell the house. Keep it all. I’ve already paid my share. I paid it with my life.

And he went to sleep in Mom’s room — the first real nap he’d have in years.

I stayed alone in the kitchen. I looked at my expensive watch, my brand-name shoes. I was the financial provider. He was the son. I paid for the pills. He put them in her mouth. I sent money for the coffin. He held her hand until she stopped breathing.

That same afternoon, I went to the notary and transferred 100% of the house to him. It wasn’t a gift. It was the fairest retroactive payment I could make. And even so, I know I still owe him.

Don’t fool yourself: A check doesn’t change diapers. A transfer doesn’t cure loneliness. And if one day it’s time to divide an inheritance, remember this: The caregiver’s time, health, and life cannot be recovered. It’s recognizing who carried the weight when everyone else walked away.

A State, Corruption, Elites and Laws

 

One less day

 

Missing a train

 

Labor Day

 

Burden of Day to Day Life

As Chekhov said: "Any idiot can face a crisis; it's this day-to-day living that wears you out." 

 Saw this painting in a Mexican restaurant, titled: Licking life.

Our Fallacy

 

I Miss You - in French

 

Profession and People

 I always wondered in my life: Is it the personality that makes people choose a specific profession, or vice versa, meaning the type of profession changes people?

‏جو شخص اونٹ پالتا ھے ‏اس میں ضد کا مادہ پیدا ھوتا ھے۔ ‏اور جو شخص گھوڑے پالتا ھے اس میں تکبر آ جاتا ھے ‏جو شخص بھیڑ بکریاں پالتا ھے اس میں عاجزی پیدا ھوتی ھے۔ ‏لہذا جو شخص کتے پالتا ھے۔ اسے بھونکنے کی عادت پڑ جاتی ھے ۔ ‏ 

Fees!

 

The Best Compliment Ever!

"You make me want to be a better man.” 

 - One of the most iconic lines delivered with unforgettable depth by Jack Nicholson

Company and Solitude

 

Aurat

 

Connected by DNA

 

Be ashamed to die!

 

Humko lafzoN se naseehat nahi milne wali

 

We are the universe

 

Wow!

 

The Old Script!

 

Principles of High Value Men

(Not necessarily agreeing with all)

 

15 Rules For Men

(Found on the internet. Not necessarily to agree with all)

1. Never go back to the woman who cheated.

2. Never let a woman disrespect you.

3. Never shake a hand sitting down.

4. Never go broke to impress others.

5. Never eat the last piece of something you didn't buy.

6. Always have the ambition to be better.

7. Protect those who are behind you, and respect those who are beside you.

8. Take a 1-3 second pause after getting asked a question.

9. Don't beg for a relationship.

10. Work out at least 4x a week.

11. If you are not invited, don't ask to go.

12. Always carry cash.

13. Dress well, no matter what the occasion.

14. Listen, nod, and most of all make eye contact.

15. Find multiple ways to make money.

Soul Tribes

Many times in life, you meet a stranger and feel Ha! He or she looks so familiar... As Yogesh wrote and Mukeshji made it amar 

Kahi to ye, dil kabhi Mil nahi paate 

Kahi se nikal aaye Janmo ke naate

 

A leadership advice

When I was made chief resident, I was given some advice that I still carry with me.

Always keep a cool head without letting your feet go cold.

From the position of F*** You

 

Deceiving people

 

Cross!

"، ڈاکٹر داؤد رہبر نے پچاس کی دہائی میں قیام انقرہ کے دوران بپتسمہ لے لیا تھا ۔ ن م راشد صاحب نے کسی موقع پر ان سے کہا کہ باتوں اور خیالات سے تم ہم جیسے ہو، پھر یہ مسیحیت کا کیا پاکھنڈ بنا رکھا ہے ۔ رہبر صاحب نے دل چسپ جواب دیا جو کچھ یوں تھا کہ میں بطور انسان اندر سے بہت کم زور ہوں اور مجھے مایوسی کی انتہا پر پہنچ کر پاگل ہونے یا خود کشی سے بچنے کے لیے ایک نفسیاتی سہارا درکار ہوتا ہے۔ میں نے مارکیٹ میں دست یاب خدا کے جملہ ماڈلز پر نظر ڈالی تو سب سے زیادہ مجھے اس خدا نے اپنی جانب کھینچا جو میری نجات کی خاطر بے قصور سولی پر چڑھ گیا ، سو ۔۔" 

A letter to women - What makes men fall in love

 darlin'... I've talked about this, but I'll try to really bring it home

Most men aren’t sitting around with a scoreboard rating sexual techniques.

What we remember, what floors us, is the connection we feel with the woman we’re with.

Mind-blowing sex isn’t a trick. It’s not a move.

It’s the experience of being wanted, respected, and safe enough to let our guard down.

We guys don’t talk about this out loud, but here’s the real answer:

The best sex a man ever has is with a woman who actually likes him. Not performs for him. Not competes with ghosts.

Likes him. 

... that's it. No 'hacks', no internet 'tricks.'

A lot of women think they have to “do more” to keep a man’s interest. But what men crave more than technique is presence, someone who’s not treating intimacy like an audition.

If you really want to blow his mind?

Be confident in your own desire.

Nothing is sexier than a woman who knows she wants him and isn’t performing.

It's sooo true... 

Be responsive.

Men want to feel the effect they’re having on you. That’s what gets in our head forever.

.. we may be less emotionally intelligent... 

Communicate.

A simple “that feels good,” or “I love when you…” does more than any secret move in a magazine.

Match his pace, not porn’s. Men can sense when a woman is doing what she thinks she’s supposed to do rather than what she wants.

Let it be fun, not perfect.

Men remember laughter, comfort, chemistry.... not technique. 

A man doesn’t stay because the sex is the best he’s ever had.

He stays because the connection is the best he’s ever had.

If he’s into you, even simple sex is phenomenal.

If he’s not, even “mind-blowing” sex won’t make him stay.

So give him presence.

Give him honesty.

Give him the version of you that isn’t trying to compete with imaginary women.

 — not a trick, not a move, but you.

I wish more women understood this about a man

On psychology of addiction

 A gambler who loses repeatedly yet continues to play even when the game is clearly against them. It is not that they misunderstand the odds; instead, the very proximity to ruin, the tension of almost‑winning, and the ritual of play are all sites of jouissance. The drive is scopic and invocatory here—the visual scene of cards and machines, the sounds of the casino—sustaining a circuit that does not want to conclude

- Lacan

A lesson from Imran Khan Captaincy

Saleem Malik on a TV interview.

 “In one of the Tests, the wickets were falling all around me but I was the only one batting very well. I was the top scorer. After I was dismissed, everyone applauded my innings, except for the captain, Imran Khan. He, in fact, was very mad with me. I was surprised and asked him why he was upset with me. He said, ‘all of us were having difficulty batting on that pitch but you were the only one who was reading the pitch very well, and playing confidently; then why did you play such a bad shot to get out. You had lots of responsibility on your shoulders, but you failed to deliver. Had you continued to bat, we would have saved the Test. You cost us the match.”

When you are in a privileged position, it brings a great deal of responsibility.

What all matters - is Dream

 

Belong....

 

Raymond - The parking attendent

 "My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's Hospital. Minimum wage, an orange vest, and a whistle I barely use. Most people don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces.

But I see everything.

Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for three weeks, a young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat. Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20 minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments.

One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?"

"6:15," he said, confused.

"Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it."

He blinked. "You... you can do that?"

"I can now," I said.

The next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily. When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless. "Why?"

"Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here stressing."

He cried. Right there in the parking lot.

Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something bigger than traffic.

But here's what changed everything: A businessman in a Mercedes screamed at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!"

"Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel."

He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us."

The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over."

Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it.

But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, whose mother survived, came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box and mounted it in the reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note,

"Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends"

People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone left a hand-knit blanket.

I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this: Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one small piece."

So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones.

Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees.

It's not glamorous. But it's everything." 

Dark side of the Colosseum

People go to Rome to see the Colosseum - very touristy -, but it has nothing but a dark side in its basement - prisoners and women from the streets.

 - From the Old Colosseum, 1888. painting by Danish artist Valdemar Irminger

 

Achhe log

کہتے ہیں، سب سے اچھی دعا یہ ہے کہ 

تمہیں زندگی میں اچھے لوگ ملیں

 

Otrovert

 A new term is up in the personality world: "otrovert."

Coined by psychiatrist Dr. Rami Kaminski, it describes people who feel like perpetual outsiders, not quite introverts, not quite extroverts, but something entirely different.

Unlike introverts (who recharge alone) or extroverts (who recharge with people), otroverts energize themselves by thinking their own thoughts. They don’t feel tied to any group, trend, or social expectation. They’re observers, free thinkers, and deeply independent.

They’re often warm, kind, funny, and great conversationalists, but usually connect deeply with only a few people. They’re not interested in what “everyone” is doing, don’t need validation, and typically prefer meaningful one-on-one conversations over group activities.

Some people discover they’re otroverts later in life. Others only realize it when a partner, friend, or article finally gives them a name for what they've always felt.

If this resonates, you might be an otrovert… or you might know someone who is.