The Great Indian Work-From-Home Experiment: How We Turned Bedrooms into Boardroom

A desi survival guide to professional meetings in your pajamas

March 2020 hit us like that relative who shows up unannounced during lunch time. One day we were complaining about traffic and office politics, the next day we were explaining to our mothers why we couldn't "just pause the meeting" to receive the grocery delivery. Welcome to the great Indian Work-From-Home experiment, where productivity meets family chaos in the most spectacular way possible.

The Setup: Transforming Your Ghar into a Corporate Office

Remember when the biggest decision about your bedroom was whether to make the bed or not? Suddenly, we became interior designers overnight. That corner where you used to dump clothes? Corporate background. The bed you never made? Off-limits camera zone. The poster of Shah Rukh Khan? Strategic repositioning required.

Every Indian home has that one "clean" wall that becomes the designated video call backdrop. You know, the one wall that doesn't have your mother's collection of small plants, your father's newspaper stack from 1987, or that random family photo where everyone looks like they were forced to smile at gunpoint.

My neighbor spent ₹5,000 on a "professional" backdrop, only to realize his wife's pressure cooker whistles provided the real ambiance during client calls. Nothing says "authentic Indian work experience" like explaining what that mysterious whistling sound is to confused foreign colleagues.

The Great Mute Button Mastery

Working from home taught us the sacred art of the mute button faster than our engineering degrees taught us anything useful. We became digital ninjas, unmuting ourselves with lightning speed while simultaneously signaling our mothers to lower the TV volume.

Indian families have this supernatural ability to choose the exact moment you're presenting quarterly reports to have their loudest conversations. "Beta, should I make aloo gobi or bhindi today?" becomes a boardroom discussion topic whether you want it or not.

The real MVPs are those who mastered the "nod and smile" technique when their mic accidentally unmuted during family arguments. We've all been there – trying to look professional while internally praying that nobody heard your father arguing with the cable guy about why Star Plus isn't working.

Dress Code: Business on Top, Comfort Below

The pandemic gave birth to the revolutionary "meeting mullet" – professional shirt on top, pajamas below. We became masters of the strategic camera angle, ensuring our colleagues never discovered that our "power dressing" stopped at the waist.

I know at least three people who attended important presentations in formal shirts and underwear. The real anxiety wasn't about the presentation; it was about accidentally standing up during screen share. Imagine explaining to your boss why you're giving quarterly projections while wearing cartoon character boxers.

The shoes situation was even more hilarious. We'd religiously wear formal shoes for in-person meetings but now slip into chappals between video calls. Some people got so comfortable that they forgot how to walk in actual shoes when offices reopened. "Sir, I'm having technical difficulties with my footwear."

The Background Cameo Artists

Every Indian household has those uninvited background stars who refuse to follow the "meeting in progress" memo. Your father, who usually watches news at volume level 47, suddenly develops selective hearing when you're on important calls.

Then there's the domestic help who has impeccable timing. They'll choose the exact moment you're discussing budget allocations to start their loudest cleaning routine right outside your door. The vacuum cleaner becomes your unofficial meeting soundtrack.

The real legends are the pets and younger siblings who treat your video calls like their personal entertainment show. Dogs barking at delivery guys, cats deciding your laptop keyboard is their new bed, and siblings photobombing your screen with dance moves that would make TikTok proud.

The Indian Family Integration Program

Working from home meant your family finally understood what you do for a living. Sort of. Your mother still thinks "client calls" means you're chatting with friends, and your father believes every video meeting is negotiable time-wise.

"Beta, meeting khatam? Come eat lunch." became the most heard phrase across Indian households. Explaining that virtual meetings have the same time constraints as physical ones was like teaching calculus to your neighborhood stray cat.

The funniest part? Family members started recognizing your colleagues' voices and developing opinions about them. "That Sharma ji from your office talks too much," your mother would comment, having eavesdropped on exactly one team meeting.

The Technology Trials

Internet connectivity became more important than electricity in Indian homes. We discovered that our "unlimited" broadband had very creative definitions of "unlimited." Nothing teaches patience like watching your screen freeze mid-sentence during an important presentation.

Every family appointed one "tech support" person (usually the youngest member) to handle video call crises. "Screen nahi dikh raha" became the most common household emergency, ranking higher than actual emergencies.

The irony? We spent years avoiding family time, and suddenly we were conducting professional meetings from the heart of family chaos. Your presentation skills were tested not by tough questions from clients, but by explaining why your grandmother just walked past the camera in her nightgown.

The New Normal Normalcy

Looking back, the work-from-home experiment taught us that productivity doesn't require pants (at least not full pants), that family interruptions can be more entertaining than office small talk, and that Indian families have an incredible ability to adapt to anything – including their children running multinational meetings from the dining table.

We learned to embrace the beautiful chaos. Yes, the neighbor's dog still barks during important calls. Yes, your mother still doesn't understand why you can't pause a live meeting. And yes, we all secretly enjoyed wearing comfortable clothes while looking professional on screen.

The best part? We proved that Indians can work efficiently from anywhere – even if "anywhere" includes beds that double as boardrooms, kitchens that serve as conference rooms, and bathrooms that provide the only quiet space for confidential calls.

So here's to all the work-from-home warriors who successfully convinced their bosses they were productive while simultaneously managing family drama, technology disasters, and the eternal struggle of looking professional while feeling completely ridiculous.

After all, we're the generation that learned to say "Can you hear me now?" in six different languages and became experts at unmuting ourselves faster than our parents can find their reading glasses. If that's not professional growth, what is?

#BusinessOnTopPajamasBelow #PressureCookerProblems #BackgroundCameos #TechSupportFamily #UnlimitedBroadbandMyth #MeetingInterruptions

Extroverts, Introverts, and the Mysterious Ambivert: A Social Masala Worth Tasting

Once upon a time, at every Indian gathering, there lurked three distinct characters: the extrovert, the introvert, and the ambivert. The extrovert swept in first, announcing their arrival as if the house itself had thrown a party in their honour. This person didn’t just warm the room, they superheated it—making friends with the delivery guy, the aunty upstairs, and the resident gecko all before dessert was served. Conversations flowed around them like traffic around a broken-down auto: noisy, inevitable, with none left behind. Even the furniture was soon in on the fun, dragged into impromptu charades matches.

Watching this, the introvert arrived like a secret agent—a master of stealth, entering sideways, greeting exactly three people before finding immediate sanctuary behind the snack table or a helpful potted plant. Happiness for the introvert wasn’t jangling bracelets and loud Bollywood numbers, but sipping chai in glorious semi-darkness, far from the madding crowd. They communicated mostly through that universal language: raised eyebrows, quick escapes, and WhatsApp messages sent even when sitting in the same room. Small talk made them break out in existential sweats, and they could concoct an excuse for leaving a party with the effortless speed of a Hyderabad traffic cop inventing a new one-way street.

Smack in between, the ambivert wandered in. This was the mysterious hybrid—the chameleon who would happily anchor Antakshari for half the night and then vanish onto the terrace to count stars, in search of their cosmic recharge. One moment arguing for group selfies; the next, appearing glued to their phone in solitary, monastic silence. The ambivert drew suspicion from both camps: introverts believed secret extroversion was hiding beneath that calm exterior, while extroverts suspected some tragic shyness lurked behind the sudden, unexplained disappearances.

Friday evenings brought the real challenge. The extrovert wound up fifteen contacts and orchestrated a mini-reunion, somehow managing to get three times the food ordered and twice as many confessions out of everyone by midnight. The introvert, meanwhile, replied “maybe” to every invite before ultimately curling up with a book, achieving spiritual ecstasy at the cancellation of plans. The ambivert’s night was a coin toss between pub crawl and parallel binging the entire history of Indian stand-up comedy, only to end by doodling alone in the corner.

All three inevitably clashed at weddings—where the extrovert would hype the sangeet, the introvert would guard the dessert table, and the ambivert would be the only one to spot the runaway groom hiding near the samosas. Mismatched as they were, each had their own genius. The extrovert knew how to turn any situation into a celebration; the introvert brought depth, thoughtfulness, and an uncanny knack for escaping awkward rishtedaar questions; the ambivert, eternally adaptable, switched gears depending on the playlist, weather, or sheer vibe of the room.

By midnight, as the lights flickered and car horns beckoned outside, all three would be found united—devouring leftover biryani, swapping memes, and secretly grateful they’d survived each other, yet again. And somewhere, an aunty would still chase them, muttering: “Beta, mix with everyone.” If only she knew—they’d just spent all evening blending in as only an extrovert, introvert, and ambivert could.

#Personality #Extrovert #Introvert #Ambivert #SocialHumor #DesiLife #HumanNature #IndianBloggers #MBTI #Relatable #LifeWithHumor #IntrovertProblems #ExtrovertVibes #AmbivertLife #QuirkyThoughts #SocialMasala #Sarcasm #HyderabadiHumor #BlogLife #EverydayIndian

Switching Sides and Swiping Left: Geopolitics in the Age of Desi Hustle

Right then, gather 'round, because if there’s one thing a good brew and a keen eye for the absurd have taught me, it’s that the world's gone utterly crackers. I recall a chap in Hyderabad, my neighbour actually, mending his ancient scooter’s seat with a rather vibrant, discarded shoelace. Utter genius, everyone declared. A spot of 'jugaad', they called it – that wonderfully Indian art of ingenious improvisation. But good heavens, cast an eye over the global map in 2025, and it seems every nation on earth has pinched a page from that very playbook. International diplomacy, once a rather serious affair, a grand chess match perhaps, now feels suspiciously like a rather disorganised group project amongst teenagers, all vying for the highest marks whilst doing the absolute bare minimum.

Remember those halcyon days of "eternal alliances" and friendships as solid as a good fruitcake? Gone, I tell you. Vanished. Nowadays, allegiances are flimsier than a politician's promise, shifting with the capricious whims of a WhatsApp group admin. Today you're chums, tomorrow you're out, all because you hogged the metaphorical TV remote or dared to keep your choicest memes to yourself. Take the United States and China, for instance. Once locked in a trade tiff as dramatic as a particularly dreary soap opera, they now perform regular pantomimes of reconciliation. Tariff threats fly about with all the gravity of two uncles bickering over who's picking up the tab at the local curry house, everyone knowing full well the real answer, as ever, is 'let's split it and blame the rising cost of living'.

Then there’s the grand old dame, the European Union. You'll find their seasoned diplomats looking "deeply concerned" with all the earnestness of a B-movie actor, yet they'd swap loyalties faster than you can say 'Brexit' for the right discount on imported Gouda or, dare I suggest, a premium streaming service subscription. The so-called Global South, bless its cotton socks, throws rather frequent shindigs touting new economic paradigms, but everyone’s secretly peering over their shoulder, hoping someone else is reaching for the bill, praying it isn't their turn.

And oh, the sheer theatricality with which these nations all chant the mantra of 'atmanirbhar', or self-reliance! The comedy, however, inevitably spills forth at every shipping port. America, bless its technologically advanced heart, needs microchips, but procures them from Taiwan and its mobile phones from Vietnam. China, whilst swearing fidelity to its homegrown tech, remains stubbornly tethered to global markets. India, with a splendid flourish, insists on settling its Russian oil debts in UAE Dirhams, leaving everyone rather delightfully befuddled as to who, precisely, is actually getting paid. Germany, with a magnificent display of indignation, rails against Chinese steel, yet its latest electric vehicle battery arrives fresh off the boat from Shanghai. It’s rather like an overconfident bachelor declaring he's a dab hand in the kitchen, whilst surreptitiously popping round to his mum's for a decent Sunday roast.

One mustn't forget the TikTok kerfuffle. When in diplomatic doubt, ban something! One day, it’s TikTok for grave data security concerns. The next, someone’s having a quiet rethink, terribly worried their latest viral dance sensation might be tragically curtailed. It seems the world’s leaders, much like the teenagers they lecture, are rather frightfully addicted to those sweet, sweet dopamine hits.

Watching this delightful farce unfold, I can’t help but chuckle at the sheer spectacle. It reminds me of those heady days trying to decide dinner plans in a WhatsApp group. One minute, everyone's craving biryani. The next, someone suggests pizza, and suddenly half the group is inexplicably gluten-intolerant. Nations, you see, switch allegiances for the juiciest deal: today, the US is your "strategic partner" in defence; tomorrow, they're hiking tariffs because you had the audacity to blink at the wrong ambassador.

And throughout these whispered backdoor deals and earnest summit selfies, everyone, absolutely everyone, insists they're championing "strategic independence." But the moment there’s a spot of bother, a minor shortage perhaps, suddenly old contacts are being rung up with frantic promises for a timely shipment of lithium or wheat, or even just a perfectly timed meme about their rivals’ latest diplomatic faux pas.

This, my dear reader, is geopolitical jugaad in its purest, most unadulterated form: not neat, certainly not tidy, but wonderfully, chaotically improvised. When trade deals collapse in a heap, nations simply ban an app. When bans inevitably backfire, it’s time for some hastily scribbled new treaties. And when treaties turn sour, one merely blames another country’s "influence operations," offers a wry smile, and shuffles off to the next negotiation table, probably striking deals over lukewarm samosas and dreadful puns about sanctions. The real winners in this circus, it turns out, aren't the superpowers with their colossal armies, but those with the best side-hustle spirit – always ready to pivot, partner, and pretend absolutely nothing untoward has happened.

So, yes, in 2025, the world has truly embraced the gloriously chaotic spirit of Indian jugaad. If your first cunning plan spectacularly unravels, simply improvise, switch sides with a disarming grin, and for goodness sake, never, ever let on that you didn’t really have a plan in the first place. It’s comedy, it’s chaos, and perhaps, just perhaps, it’s how we’ll all muddle through the next global summit. Cheerio!

Adulting Is a Scam: The Unauthorized Manual for Surviving Grown-Up Life

When I first stepped into “adulthood,” I expected freedom, excitement, and independence. What I found instead was a mountain of bills, a maze of responsibilities, and a never-ending list of expectations. That rude awakening is what inspired me to write Adulting Is a Scam: The Unauthorized Manual for Everything Grown-Up.

This book is my unfiltered take on the reality we all live but rarely talk about. I wanted to write something different from the usual self-help books that promise happiness in ten easy steps or a “secret” formula for success. Life doesn’t work that way. Adulting is messy, complicated, and sometimes downright absurd. So why not call it what it really is—a scam?

In these pages, I take you through the pitfalls of modern adulthood: crushing debt, financial illusions, toxic workplaces, and the constant need to look like you have your life under control. I write with sarcasm, humor, and brutal honesty because let’s face it—sugarcoating won’t pay your rent or fix your burnout.

But this isn’t just about complaints. It’s also about awareness. I believe that once you strip away the illusions, you can actually start living with more clarity. I talk about the importance of financial literacy, setting personal boundaries, and learning to laugh at the absurdity of it all. These are the real skills of survival—skills we should’ve been taught in school but weren’t.

I’ve lived through the grease, the grind, and the quiet desperation that many adults carry behind their smiles. I know what it feels like to question whether this is really what life is supposed to be. Writing this book was my way of saying: you’re not alone, and no, you’re not crazy for feeling this way.

Adulting Is a Scam is part satire, part survival guide, and part lifeline for anyone navigating this impossible stage of life. If you’ve ever looked at your paycheck, your bills, or your endless responsibilities and thought, “Is this really it?”—this book is for you.

Get your copy of Adulting Is a Scam today → 

Amazon.com Buy from Amazon (International Readers)

Pothi.com (Buy HARDCOVER) (Indian Readers)

Pothi.com (Buy PAPERBACK) (Indian Readers)

The Absurd and Noble Adventure: A Blog Post

What if the entire history of political systems boils down to one simple, even absurd, question: Who should tell everyone else what to do?

In my book, From Dharma to Democracy: The Absurd and Noble Adventure of Political Systems, I invite you on a journey through six thousand years of humanity's attempts to answer this fundamental question. This is not a dry, academic treatise. It's a grand historical survey delivered with a "constructively skeptical" tone and a touch of wit, because frankly, the history of governance is often more bizarre than fiction.

We delve into the rise and fall of civilizations, exploring everything from the ancient Indian concept of Dharma—righteous and ethical governance—to the messy, glorious, and chaotic reality of modern constitutional democracy. We explore how kings, emperors, philosophers, and revolutionaries have grappled with power, and we find that the more things change, the more the fundamental questions remain the same.

The book is for anyone who has looked at the world and wondered, "How did we get here?" It's a guide to understanding the systems that shape our lives and the grand human experiment that continues to unfold. Ultimately, it reveals that the best form of government is not one that claims to be perfect, but one that is humble enough to learn from the lessons of history.

Join me on this adventure and discover why democracy, for all its faults, is still our best bet. You can get your copy and start the adventure here:

Buy From Dharma to Democracy on Amazon     (International Readers)

Buy From Dharma to Democracy on Pothi.com (Indian Readers)

From Revolution to the Digital Age: The American Story

The story of America is one of ambition, contradiction, and endless reinvention. It's a tale that began with a fragile experiment in self-governance and grew into a global superpower that has shaped the modern world. In my book, America's Journey: From Revolution to Democracy to Digital Age, I offer a sweeping, yet deeply insightful, exploration of the forces that built—and continue to test—the American republic. 

This isn't just a history book. It's an inquiry into the ideals that have defined America and the struggles that have challenged them. I delve into the writing of the Constitution, the seismic conflicts of the Civil War, and the transformative power of both industry and culture. The book charts how the high-minded ideals of liberty have consistently collided with the hard realities of power, race, and inequality.

We trace America's ascent on the world stage, examining how its military might, corporate growth, and cultural exports—from Hollywood to hip-hop—have become a part of the global fabric. But I also look at the inner workings of this transformation, exploring how a nation founded on parchment and quill pens has navigated the complex terrain of the digital age.

America's Journey is a compelling narrative for anyone interested in history, geopolitics, and the ongoing saga of a nation that, for all its flaws, remains a powerful force of innovation and influence. It is a story of a vibrant, often fractured, democracy—one defined as much by its failures as its triumphs.

You can get your copy from Amazon here: Buy Here (International Readers)

get your copy from Pothi.com here: Buy Here (Indian Readers)