A friend had recommended Beef Season 1 to me. But when I started watching, Beef Season 2 automatically played, and I didn’t realize it until much later. By then, I was already invested in the story, so I just continued watching.
And honestly, I liked it.
At its core, Beef Season 2 feels like a commentary on human greed and our constant desire for more. Almost every character is flawed, driven by personal ambition, self-interest, or the need to protect what they have. Nobody is entirely good or bad, which makes the series closer to life.
One of the standout moments for me was a powerful dialogue by Chairwoman Park about relationships in the age of capitalism. It was one of those scenes that makes you pause and think. The show is filled with similar thought-provoking conversations that explore status, wealth, ambition, and the choices people make in search of success.
It’s worth a watch. Streaming on Netflix.
SPOILER ALERT: Stop reading here if you plan to watch the series.
The ending featured a wheel, which immediately caught my attention. Curious, I looked it up and discovered that it represents the Buddhist Wheel of Life, or Samsara.
In Buddhism, the wheel symbolizes the endless cycle of human existence, where desires, attachments, and actions keep people trapped in repeating patterns.
The wheel depicts how the younger generation eventually slips into the same status-driven lifestyle they once criticized. Despite judging the choices of those before them, they end up chasing many of the same things. It reinforces the idea that while the players may change, the cycle of ambition, compromise, and betrayal continues.
In that sense, the ending of Beef Season 2 suggests that human nature remains remarkably consistent, no matter how much the world changes around it.
One of the most romantic delusions I have ever come across is the idea that when you suddenly feel overwhelmed with emotions because you miss someone, it’s because they are missing you too. Some people even extend this belief to loved ones who have passed away, saying their energy is reaching out because they miss you.
It goes against every scientific explanation I know, yet there is something comforting about believing it. Sometimes, when a wave of grief or longing hits without warning, you are not looking for logic. You are simply looking for a reason that helps your heart make sense of what it is feeling.
Over the past few years, there have been many moments when I have found myself unexpectedly emotional while thinking about my father. It often happens out of nowhere. Sometimes it’s triggered by a quote about a father’s love. Sometimes it’s just a random thought that appears during an ordinary day. The strange thing is that it isn’t consistent. There are days when I can think about him and smile. Then there are days when the emotions become too much, and tears arrive before I can stop them.
In those moments, I find myself wondering: is this his way of letting me know that he misses me too?
I like to believe it is.
I treat dreams about him the same way. Whenever he appears in a dream, I see it as a small sign, a quiet reminder that the bond we shared still exists somewhere beyond memory.
It sometimes happens while thinking about friends who are no longer part of your life as well.
Maybe these are just coping mechanisms. Maybe they are the natural ways our minds process grief and emotional loss. Maybe hormones, memories, and nostalgia are working together to create meaning where none exists. But if a belief brings comfort without harming anyone, why rush to take it apart?
When you are grieving or missing someone you love, facts are not always enough. Science may explain what is happening in your mind, but comfort speaks to the heart. And sometimes, comfort is all you need.
Most people say travel is rejuvenating, but no one really talks about what happens after the trip ends. This feels especially true for people with desk jobs, regular 9-to-5 schedules, or the kind of overtime-heavy work culture that has become common in India.
Once you return from travelling, you are often left with an unsettling feeling. You begin to realise how much of your life is spent restricted to a desk, tied to routines and responsibilities, while there is an entire world outside waiting to be explored. New cities, different cultures, mountain roads, local food, conversations with strangers, and experiences that make life feel bigger than your daily routine. Travel has a strange way of making ordinary life suddenly feel very small.
The truth is that most of our lives are spent working. We spend decades chasing stability, salaries, deadlines, and financial security. Only after retirement do many people finally get the chance to explore the world properly, spend more time on meaningful things, or simply move through life at a slower pace without constantly watching the clock.
After my recent trip, I finally understood why many people choose to limit travelling to retirement. Because when you travel while still working, the months that follow are spent thinking about retirement itself. You start questioning the structure of life in a way you probably never did before.
I think most people are not really craving luxury nowadays. They want peace. A chance to step away from competition, pressure, expectations, and the endless cycle of productivity. But financial responsibilities keep most of us attached to the lives we currently live. And if you think about it, it really is a sad state of affairs. So much of life passes without us truly knowing the world outside our routines. We spend our healthiest years working, saving, and postponing experiences for “someday.” Then, when we finally have enough time and freedom to explore, our physical health may no longer allow us to travel the way we once dreamed of.
Sometimes it genuinely feels like a trap. That is just how modern life is designed. The very rich can afford to live slowly, travel often, and experience the world freely, while the rest of us remain tied to jobs so we can eventually retire with enough money to live comfortably later in life. Until then, most people continue surviving between deadlines, stress, and short vacations that end far too quickly.
It has now been two months since my trip ended, and the feeling of missing the mountains still has not faded. I miss the slow life and mental peace I experienced there deeply. Returning has brought a quiet sadness that has stayed with me ever since. During those ten days of travelling, I experienced bliss as I consciously stayed away from the internet and social media. Honestly, it felt like a relief. When you are travelling, you do not really need distractions because the world around you becomes interesting enough on its own. Every moment feels fuller and more present.
Back home, though, life goes back to screens, schedules, and desk work. And sometimes the internet becomes the only way to explore the world when your real life feels limited to routines.
So now I sit with these thoughts quite often. There is a sombre feeling attached to them. I acknowledge these emotions and quietly hope that one day I return to the version of myself that existed before the trip, when I did not constantly think about whether I was missing out on life, the world, new people, or new experiences. Back then, work and everyday routines felt enough. I was content simply engaging daily with the people I already knew and focusing on responsibilities without questioning life too much.
But travel changes something inside you. That is the difficult part about it. It is both beautiful and cruel at the same time. It opens your eyes to how much more life has to offer, while also reminding you how little time most people actually get to experience it. As the euphoria of the trip fades, the ache lingers.
I came across this post on Reddit recently. It immediately made me think about my own experiences.
At the end of the day, it really comes down to energy, doesn’t it?
When I was in the North East, and it started snowing heavily, I stepped into a small shed with a heater. The shed was full of North Eastern men, including my guide. I was the only woman there at that moment.
And yet, I did not feel unsafe even for a second.
That moment stayed with me because it showed me something important about how we perceive safety while traveling or being around strangers.
Now imagine a similar situation somewhere else in India. There are some men I know personally, even a few colleagues, with whom I would feel uncomfortable being stuck in a small space. Not because they have ever done anything that could be complained about. Nothing like that. But the energy they give off simply does not make me feel comfortable.
Safety often has less to do with whether we know someone and more to do with the vibes they give off and whether we are comfortable with those vibes.
Many women will relate to this. We tend to have strong instincts when it comes to unsafe environments. Research often suggests that these instincts developed over time as part of human evolution. Women had to learn to read subtle cues in order to stay safe.
That is why sometimes we feel calm around complete strangers, while at other times we feel uneasy around people we already know.
If women were allowed to choose the people they would spend those 10 days locked up with, most of us would probably make the right call about who we feel safe around.
The real problem arises when that choice is taken away from us, and the men we are to be locked up with, whether known or unknown, are chosen by someone else. When that happens, the chances of discomfort or even unsafe situations naturally increase.
For me, that snowy day in the North East was a reminder that safety is not always about familiarity. Sometimes it is simply about the energy people carry, and the signals our instincts quietly pick up.
I picked the Malayalam movie Ithiri Neram randomly last weekend. I usually choose movies based purely on my mood. Because of that, I often ignore films or dramas that are trending or getting a lot of attention. Sometimes I simply may not be in the mood for that genre.
Ithiri Neram had been sitting in my watchlist for quite some time. After my North East trip, I suddenly felt like watching something slow-paced and centered on human interactions. I wanted a quiet Malayalam film that focuses more on emotions than plot twists. Ithiri Neram seemed perfect for that kind of weekend watch.
The story deals with a slightly controversial theme. It follows a married man who reconnects with his college flame. In a way, it reminded me of the Tamil movie 96, but almost in reverse.
Because the story revolves around a married man who still carries unresolved feelings for his ex, the film creates an unusual emotional conflict for the viewer. You enjoy the crackling chemistry (a type of chemistry that conveys a lot through eye contact) between the lead pair, yet at the same time you feel a sense of guilt. You cannot help but think about the wife, who has no idea what her husband really feels about their marriage. According to him, that “special feeling” is missing in the marriage. This aspect of the story also became a point of debate among viewers. Some felt that the movie glorified an extramarital emotional connection. But I don’t think movies always need to function as a vehicle for social messaging. Cinema is also a space to tell stories about human emotions, even the uncomfortable ones.
And the truth is, the idea that someone may still carry feelings for an old love is not unrealistic. It may not be something people openly admit, especially after marriage. But it is a very human experience that exists quietly in many lives.
The chemistry between the two leads is undeniable. Their conversations and silences pull you in emotionally. At times it feels like the film quietly pushes the audience into rooting for something that is not right.
Once you reach your 40s, you also start realizing something uncomfortable. Chemistry is rare. You may settle down with someone you deeply respect and care for. The relationship can be stable and supportive. Yet, like Anish in the film, you might sometimes feel that something extra is missing. That “extra” could be a kind of chemistry you once experienced in the past and have been searching for ever since.
Over time, many people choose stability over chemistry. And in many ways, that decision makes sense. Life cannot run on chemistry alone. Intense chemistry can also bring strong emotions that are hard to manage, and that intensity can sometimes destabilize relationships.
Roshan Mathew and Zarin Shihab deliver beautiful and natural performances. Their screen presence carries the emotional weight of the story very well. The comedy relief also works nicely and matches my kind of humor. I genuinely enjoyed those lighter moments.
The supporting cast adds good balance to the film. Performances by Nandu and Anand Manmadhan help keep the story light so that the emotional tension never becomes overwhelming.
If you enjoy slow movies that focus on relationships, nostalgia, and complicated emotions, Ithiri Neram might be worth adding to your watchlist.
Ithiri Neram is currently streaming on Prime Video.
For me, the best part of travel is rarely just the destination. It is almost always the people I meet along the way. Sometimes they are fellow Indians I happen to run into while traveling abroad. Other times, they are locals who live there. Either way, travel experiences often become more meaningful because of the people you unexpectedly connect with.
It always amazes me how you can visit a completely new place and instantly click with someone. Someone you had almost zero chance of meeting in your life. Someone you may never meet again. There is something both beautiful and bittersweet about that.
For a brief moment, you feel understood. You find a kind of ease in being yourself. It makes you wish there was someone like that back home. A friend with whom conversations flow naturally, and silence is comfortable. But when the trip ends, you leave with the quiet realization that a part of that connection belongs to that place and moment. And you need to regrettably acknowledge and accept that fact and move on.
Now that I am back in India after my trip to the North East, I realize something interesting. What stays with me is not the destination or the sightseeing. It is the people I connected with during my travels. The random conversations, the shared laughter, and the small moments that made the journey special.
Those encounters also reminded me of something important. Even in my 40s, making new friends is still very much possible. Travel has a funny way of proving that meaningful connections can happen at any stage of life.
Of course, we can stay connected online. Social media and messaging apps make it easy to keep in touch with people you meet while traveling. But it is never quite the same as meeting someone face to face. There is a kind of chemistry in real-life interactions that online conversations cannot fully capture. The smiles, the sparkle in someone’s eyes, the playful teasing, the expressions, and the shared energy of the moment.
That is one reason why travel feels both rejuvenating and humbling. It lifts you into a small dreamlike bubble for a while. You feel lighter, freer, and more open to people and experiences.
But eventually, every trip ends. You leave that bubble behind and return to everyday life. Routine, work, responsibilities, and schedules slowly start filling your days again. Your mind may not be fully ready for reality for a few days. Part of you is still wandering through those travel memories.
Life, however, has a gentle way of bringing you back to the familiar. Slowly, day by day, you settle back into your usual rhythm. The memories of the trip remain, but over time they soften. The details blur a little. The feelings become less intense.
The Monkey Dilemma 
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