Sathya Sam's Blog

There’s a line I once read somewhere — “Your children are not your children. They come through you but not from you.”

It lingered. Like the last note of a song that refuses to fade.

The same could be said of friends too.

We often live with this illusion that relationships, whether with our children or our closest friends, are “ours.” That we have a say in how they think, feel, or evolve. But over time, life has a way of humbling that belief.

Because children, like friends, are not possessions. They are borrowed chapters in our story — written in someone else’s ink.

There was a time I thought friendship meant forever. The kind where you could pick up the phone at 2 a.m., rant, cry, or laugh without filters. But slowly, you realise people shift, not always away from you, but sometimes into themselves.
Their paths bend differently. Their silences grow longer.
And that’s okay.
They’re not meant to orbit you forever.

The same happens with our children.
They start by clutching your hand, needing your every word of assurance. Then one day, they pull their hand away…politely, lovingly … and walk ahead. You’re left standing, realising they’ve become their own person.

Children are not your friends

It’s beautiful, and heartbreaking, all at once.

Maybe that’s the real essence of maturity, to love without ownership.
To cheer without controlling.
To stand close enough to care, yet far enough to let them breathe.

Because at some point, you stop expecting people, children, friends, even partners, to belong.
You just start valuing their presence while it lasts.

And when they drift, you smile quietly, knowing that’s how it was always meant to be.

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No Matter How Tempting It Is to Share

We live in times where privacy feels outdated.
Every thought, every success, every heartbreak, there’s a post, a reel, or a story for it.
However, the truth is that some things lose their power the moment you share them too soon.

I’ve learned this the hard way, from professional circles, friendships, and even moments of naïve pride. Here are five things that deserve your quiet protection.

1. Your Next Move

Every plan sounds brilliant in your head until it meets ten different opinions.

Years ago, I once shared a business idea too early, and what followed wasn’t encouragement; it was noise. People said, “That’s too risky,” “Someone already tried that,” “Maybe wait a bit.”
By the end of the week, I had lost the spark that started it.

Things to keep in Private

Plans need privacy to grow roots. When you announce them too soon, you invite both skepticism and subtle resistance. Let your results speak first; the applause will come later.

2. Your Money

Nothing distorts relationships faster than discussing money, whether there's too much of it or too little.

Whether it’s how much you earn, where you invest, or what you buy, money is a magnet for comparison. You may not mean to brag, but others may feel small, envious, or curious in uncomfortable ways.

Stay understated. People respect quiet confidence more than loud success. Remember, wealth whispers.

3. Your Struggle

It’s fashionable today to “be vulnerable.” But there’s a difference between sharing your pain and broadcasting it.

Dont share your struggle

When you share your struggles mid-battle, you risk exposing your weakest moments to those who might not understand, or worse, might use it against you.
Heal first. Grow quietly. Then, when the wounds become wisdom, tell your story if you wish, not for sympathy, but for strength.

4. Your Ambitions

Your dreams deserve a safe space, not a stage.

When you speak of your ambitions too soon, you spend energy talking instead of doing.
Worse, people may plant doubts or expectations that alter your path.

Keep your goals sacred. Surprise the world with your work, not your words.

5. Your Family Life

The older I get, the more I realize, peace lives at home, not on the internet.

Relationships thrive in privacy. The more you share your family moments online, the more invisible boundaries fade, and opinions sneak in.

Once, a colleague asked me casually, “How do you manage everything… work, writing, and family?”
I smiled and said, “Like Wi-Fi strong connection, but you can’t always see the signal.”

That’s how family life should be. Quiet strength. Unseen, yet deeply present.
The moment you start displaying it for validation, you invite noise into what’s meant to be peaceful.

Celebrate in silence. Guard the small joys. Not everything precious needs validation.

Some things grow in the dark, like roots, like faith, like strength.
In a world obsessed with exposure, learn the power of quiet progress.

Because when you finally rise, it won’t be from noise.
It’ll be from depth.

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A few days ago, I stumbled upon a striking visual.
It showed one man standing apart, facing a crowd. The caption read:

“If you win, they think you got lucky.”

It hit me hard.

Because isn’t that the truth?

Every win, every small achievement, every milestone you cross — there will always be a crowd whispering: “He / just got lucky.” Rarely does anyone pause to ask about the years of sweat, solitude, and struggle that led to that so-called “lucky” moment.

The Invisible Backstory

When I was younger, I had a friend who cleared one of the toughest competitive exams in India. Overnight, he was the star of our circle. People congratulated him, but more than that, I remember a constant refrain:

“Must’ve been luck. Maybe the paper was easy this year.”

What no one saw was the stack of worn-out books in his room, the endless nights fueled by tea and determination, the sacrifices skipping weddings, movies, even festivals to keep at it.

The world rarely rewards effort. It only celebrates outcomes.

And when you finally win, they attach an easy label to it: luck.

Why Do People Say “Lucky”?

It’s not always malice. Sometimes it’s denial.

Because if they admit your success is the result of relentless effort, they’ll also have to confront their own choices. It’s easier to call your win a fluke than to acknowledge your discipline.

Lucky

It’s easier to dismiss your climb than to start their own.

My Own Lesson

When I published my first book, I heard this too:
“Wow, you’re lucky to get published.”

Lucky?

Was it luck when I sat for hours, cutting out entire chapters that didn’t work? Was it luck when I faced rejection emails, one after another? Or was it luck when I rewrote the same story five different times until it felt right?

If anything, luck showed up late, after the effort had already built the door.

Don’t get me wrong. Luck exists.But it favours motion. It favours those who are already walking.

The people who get “lucky” are often the ones who’ve been preparing in silence long before the opportunity knocks.

The truth is, luck is rarely a starting point. It’s often the final multiplier of effort.

So the next time you hear “you got lucky,” smile. Because it means you’ve crossed over to a space most only dream of.

Behind every so-called “lucky” win lies a thousand unseen hours of effort, sacrifice, and persistence.

And maybe that’s the irony of success:
The harder you work, the luckier you appear.

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A year ago, I pressed publish on my first Medium article.
It wasn’t perfect. Honestly, I wasn’t perfect either. But here we are, one year later, and it feels less like a milestone, more like a mirror.

Because writing isn’t just about filling white space with words.
It’s about filling silence with meaning.

What a year it taught me

I thought writing on Medium would be about discipline. Sit down, write, publish. But it turned out to be much more.

It became therapy on days when my mind was too loud.
It became a conversation when I felt unheard.
It became a connection with strangers, who read a piece and said, “I feel the same.”

And that, to me, is the magic.

The surprises along the way

Some stories I thought were “too small” turned out to resonate the most.

Some pieces I laboured over hardly got a glance.

And sometimes, one unexpected clap or comment was worth more than a thousand silent views.

Medium, in its quiet way, reminded me: You don’t write for applause. You write for clarity. The applause, when it comes, is just a bonus.

What next?

I don’t know if I’ll write another 100 articles or just 10.
But I know this … I’ll keep showing up. Because every piece I write is a piece of me I didn’t want to lose.

And if even one person finds it useful, relatable, or just smile-worthy — that’s enough.

One year on Medium has taught me a simple truth:
We don’t write to be read. We write to remember.

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No Longer Feel comfortable with Familiar Groups? You are not alone…

It’s a strange discomfort, sitting in a room full of familiar faces, laughing at familiar jokes, yet feeling… misplaced. Not angry. Not bored. Just quietly misaligned. If you’ve ever caught yourself forcing a smile in such moments, know this: you’re not alone. That feeling is more common and more telling than we often admit.

A few days ago, I met an old bunch from college. We shared memories, laughed over silly things, and yet, something inside me felt out of sync. It wasn’t them. It wasn’t me. It was just the fact that time changes people, and sometimes, unevenly.

We grow. Sometimes in sharp upward spurts, and sometimes in silent, internal ways that don’t show on the surface. You become more aware of people, of energy, of words not said. You’ve likely worked on yourself, pushed through life’s weight, learned the value of time, boundaries, and silence. And then you return to your old group, who still see you as the joker, the softie, or the one who never minded being interrupted. That dissonance? It isn’t ego. It’s evolution.

Evolvement

And then there’s the matter of conversation. When you’ve stared into the face of your own fears, or spent late nights building something from scratch, whether a career, a family, or a new version of yourself, the chatter about someone’s new car or who got invited to what party begins to lose colour. You smile, nod, maybe even add a line, but inside, you’re longing for a different kind of talk. One that goes a little deeper.

Sometimes you also sense things you didn’t before: the undercurrent of envy in a compliment, the passive aggression in a tease, the casual disrespect dressed as “don’t take it seriously.” It’s not that people have become worse. It’s just that your antenna is sharper now.

There’s also something else. Many people hold on to old images of us from when we were unsure, quieter, and less confident. That version might have tolerated more, questioned less, laughed at every joke. But you’ve changed. So when you show up with a firmer voice, clearer eyes, or a quieter poise, it unsettles their old narrative. They don’t say it …but you feel it.

So what do you do when your old world no longer feels like home?

You stay grounded. You don’t need to prove you’ve grown. You don’t need to rebel either. Let your calm speak. Let your choices whisper your evolution.

Maybe you don’t need to play the old role anymore. You’re no longer the clown, or the agreeable one, or the one who fixed the energy of the room. Maybe now, you’re the one who watches, speaks less, but says something that shifts the room’s tone.

Sometimes, it’s also okay to limit your exposure. You don’t have to cut people off. You can meet them, laugh with them, and still walk away with your peace intact. Some groups are there to remind you of who you were not who you must continue to be.

And finally, over time, you build your own tribe. People who see you not just clearly, but currently. People with whom you don’t have to shrink, adjust, or wear old labels. They’re out there. Sometimes in new places. Sometimes in surprising corners. Sometimes, even in old friends who’ve grown silently, just like you.

Growth will always create a gap. The key is to stop blaming the gap — and start respecting the growth.

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I’ve never been the kind to write motivational listicles. But this one comes from the trenches, from sweaty railway platforms, uncomfortable conference rooms, forgotten bus rides, and lonely hotel nights after addressing packed auditoriums. Over the years, I’ve tasted quite a lot of rejections, stood on just enough podiums, and shared coffee with both sharks and saints to say this with some certainty:

I have always felt triumph doesn’t arrive with trumpets. It comes quietly, and then… it tests you.

Here are five hard-earned lessons life taught me — not in classrooms, but in the messy middle.

1. You Can Count Real Love On Your Fingers: Do It.

I still remember that December evening in Hyderabad when everything seemed to fall apart. A publishing deal was delayed. A colleague is turning opportunist. The person I trusted most said, “Maybe you’re just too much of a dreamer, dude.”

But that night, my wife waited up with filter coffee and rasam rice. No judgment, just the warmth of someone who saw me before the world decided whether I was “worth” anything.

There are very few people who truly love you. Not the author you, not the VP you, not the clever-you-on-stage. Just you — the quiet, messy, unsure version. Hold onto them like oxygen. They’re your real tribe.

2. The World Loves Success. Not You.

When my first book became a minor success, LinkedIn flooded with “Congratulations bro, always knew you had it.” What they didn’t know was that 23 publishers had rejected the same manuscript. Same words. Same story. Just a different context — success.

Here’s the thing: many people love the idea of associating with success. They’re not wrong…it’s human. But confusing that for love or loyalty? That’s your mistake. Smile at the applause, thank them graciously… but don’t hand them your self-worth.

3. Your Dreams Will Be Lonelier Than You Imagined

When I first pitched one idea as a legitimate research paper, I got blank stares. One even said, “Sathya, stick to your genre. Don’t become… weird.”

But I couldn’t. Because the vision was burning.

When you are not yet successful, your dreams are nothing more than hallucinations to others. You might be the only one who sees them clearly. You will have to protect them fiercely, even from those who claim to love you.

Sometimes, you will be your only believer. And that’s enough.

4. Motivation Fails. Discipline Rescues.

There was a phase, maybe 2018 or 2019, when everything felt mechanical. I was teaching, writing, consulting, and travelling, but felt no spark. I used to stare at the laptop, type a sentence, and delete it. Repeat.

Dreams aren’t enough. Motivation isn’t reliable. What you need is a practice, a stubborn, boring, almost unromantic practice. I wrote 300 words every day during that low phase. Most of it was trash. Some of it became books. One became a keynote.

Lift yourself. Fight again. It’s hard. That’s why it works.

5. Class Toppers Aren’t Always Life Toppers

In college, there was a guy named Raju. First in everything. Notes pristine. CGPA intimidating. Ten years later, he’s working a stable job. Safe. Linear.

And then there was Guru barely passed statistics, but asked sharp questions about the world. Today, he runs a cross-border social enterprise and speaks at big forums.

Success isnt being a topper

Success isn’t about being the smartest in class. It’s about understanding people, the pulse of your industry, and above all, yourself. That emotional intelligence, curiosity, and instinct will take you far beyond gold medals ever can.

Final Words

These lessons are not original. They’re universal. But you only truly understand them when life slaps them into you.

Success is not a peak. It’s a rhythm. Some days you lead the dance. Some days, you just try not to fall. But as long as you’re in motion, learning, adapting, and being kind to yourself, you’re already ahead of the curve.

Hold onto your people. Guard your dreams. Trust your weirdness.

The world will catch up.

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“Did you eat?” she asked her son

It sounded simple. Like a basic check-in.
But he knew there was more beneath the surface.

Son just finished a long, stressful meeting. He had barely spoken a word since. She noticed.

So she asked, not out of routine, but out of care.

He smiled weakly and said, “It’s fine, I’m not that hungry.”

She didn’t push. She didn’t advise.
She just came back a few minutes later and placed a small snack on my desk.
No words. Just a quiet understanding.

That’s hidden emotion.
Something only humans pick up.
And something AI can’t.

We live in a world of artificial intelligence that can write poems, suggest playlists, and simulate empathy. But let’s be honest — it can’t truly understand what we don’t say out loud.

AI might catch the tone, the expression, the keywords. But will it notice the silence before the sentence? The delay before a “yes”?
The slight change in posture?
The glance that lingers a second too long?

Mother’s loveLet me tell you about something I witnessed recently.

At a get-together, an elderly gentleman was standing alone while the rest of us were caught up in conversations and selfies. I noticed he was standing for a while. So I walked over and asked, “Would you like to have a seat?”

He smiled and said, “No, no, I’m okay.”

But there was a pause, a quiet kind of sadness in his eyes.
Maybe he expected a lot of chairs around to sit. Maybe the silence was louder than it seemed.

I didn’t ask again.
I simply got him a chair.
He looked at it, then at me. And nodded with a smile and said “God Bless you” that said more than any thank you could.

That moment? No app, no chatbot, no algorithm can replace that.

Emotions are easy to detect.Hidden emotions are not.

And hidden emotions — the ones people bury behind “I’m fine” or “Don’t bother” — need more than intelligence.
They need human insight.

So what’s the point?

The next time someone says “I’m good,” pause.
Not every “good” means they’re okay.
Not every “no” is a real no.
Sometimes it’s a test of your care.

Machines can process emotion ( these days) .
Humans process Hidden — emotion.

Until something comes to learn such intriguing hidden emotions.. humanity will always be irreplaceable.

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Because how we say it matters as much as what we say

We all love to sound a little sharper, don’t we? But here’s the secret — you don’t need complex grammar or fancy phrases. Sometimes, just swapping one word can make your thoughts clearer and your expression stronger.

I picked 10 everyday words we often use. Let’s see how a small shift can elevate them — not to sound “smarter,” but to feel more precise, more you.

I think → I believe

Thinking is fine, but when I believe, I own my words. It’s a little stronger, a bit more confident.

I’m tired → I’m exhausted

Let’s face it, after a long day, tired doesn’t cut it. Exhausted? That’s the truth.

I’m happy → I’m delighted

“Delighted” feels warm, personal — like your happiness touched the heart.

I don’t know → I’m uncertain

Sometimes we don’t have to say “I don’t know.” Saying I’m uncertain feels honest and thoughtful — it shows you’re still reflecting.

Good Communication is half doneI’m sorry → I apologize

Saying I apologize carries intention. It’s not just sorry; it’s responsibility.

It’s a good idea → It’s a brilliant idea

When something shines, let’s call it brilliant. Why settle for “good”?

He’s funny → He’s hilarious

The next time someone cracks you up, give them their due — hilarious sounds so much more fun.

It’s very important → It’s crucial

Crucial has weight. It tells people: don’t miss this.

I’m angry → I’m furious

Sometimes mild words don’t match our mood. Furious — that’s when it really burns.

It’s okay → It’s acceptable

Acceptable sets a boundary without fuss. It’s a calm, clear yes — but only just.

Final sip of thought

Words shape how we see the world, and how the world sees us. These tiny upgrades? They’re not for impressing others — they’re for expressing yourself with clarity and honesty.

So the next time you speak or write, try one swap. Just one.

And see how it feels.

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No lectures. No advice. Just thoughtful reminders that keep love flowing under one roof.

The older I grow, the more I realise that walls don’t make a home, warmth does.

You could live in a five-bedroom house with walk-in wardrobes and a garden that needs its own zip code, and still feel distant. Because what makes a house feel like home isn’t size or paint, it’s how we live together.

Rules? Yeah, they’re not always about control. Sometimes, they’re love in disguise.

Here are 10 family rules I wish more of us practised. Not to make things stricter, but to make hearts softer.

1. No phones at the dinner table, focus on talking and connecting

I once watched a family of four eat dinner in complete silence,every face lit up, not by conversation, but by phone screens. Sad truth? They’re not alone.

We forgot that food nourishes the body, but conversations feed the soul.

2. Always greet each other kindly in the morning and before bed

“Good morning Pa,” I insist my daughter say getting out of bed every single day, and I do reciprocate. It’s not just cute,it’s grounding.

That one moment of connection, just after you wake up or right before sleep, can quietly reset everything.

3. Everyone must apologize when they’ve hurt someone, regardless of intention

I remember once raising my voice at home unintentionally. My son didn’t say much but looked… a little off. I walked up, said sorry, and he hugged me like nothing had happened.

Apologize without ego

Truth is, intention doesn’t wipe off the bruise. A simple “sorry” can.

4. Help each other with tasks without waiting to be asked

Ever noticed how acts of love rarely come with announcements?

Doing the dishes. Refilling the water bottle. Getting someone’s bag from the car. It may not trend on Instagram, but these are the quiet acts that build trust.

5. Celebrate small milestones together, not just big events

We wait for birthdays, promotions, housewarming functions… but what about finishing a tough week? Or learning how to cook something new without burning the kitchen?

Celebrate that. Celebrate living.

6. Speak kindly about family members, even when they’re not around

If someone praises you outside but criticises you behind your back, how would that feel?

Loyalty isn’t loud. It’s consistent. Speak with respect, especially when the person isn’t in the room. That’s integrity.

7. Show gratitude when someone does something for you

“Thanks ma,” my wife said once when I just switched off her alarm so she could sleep more. That stayed with me.

At home, we often forget to say thank you,because we assume it’s expected. It’s not. Say it. It matters.

8. Celebrate everyone’s individuality without judgment or comparison

Your child may not be a topper, your sibling may not be talkative, your spouse may not be super social. And?

Homes are not factories for standard models. They’re playgrounds for personalities to breathe.

Celebrate Family

9. Stay calm and supportive during emergencies or stressful moments

Panic spreads. Calm contains.

During tense moments, be the one whose voice lowers, not rises. That’s not just maturity, that’s leadership,at home.

10. Always show affection through words, gestures, or actions regularly

We think people know we love them. But love needs to be seen and felt.

A warm meal. A kind word. A random hug. These are not extras, they’re essentials. Homes thrive on affection.

So, what do these rules do really?

They remind us that while jobs and cities may change, homes remain our base station.

In a world that chases luxury outside, these are the real luxuries within:

Time, gratitude, calm voices, kind words, shared laughter, and a place where you’re safe to be you.

Let’s not miss that.

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Last month, when I visited a surreal Hotel, I was in rooms with chandeliers, and I’ve stood barefoot on mud floors that smelled of the earth. Oddly, the idea of “luxury” never felt clearer than when I saw this simple list, circled in red, with zero decoration.

Time
Health
A quiet mind
Slow mornings
Ability to travel
A house full of love

No price tags. No power plays. No Rolex. Just real, rich living.

1. Time

Not the time we fill with meetings and errands. The kind that lets you sit by a window and do absolutely nothing, and still feel content. That’s luxury.

2. Health

You don’t really notice your knees until they ache. You don’t value good sleep until it's gone. Health isn’t just a luxury — it’s silent wealth.

3. A Quiet Mind

Noise is everywhere. Notifications, thoughts, overthinking, what-ifs. A quiet mind doesn’t mean the absence of sound. It implies the presence of peace. And that’s rarer than we admit. I used to think spending time all alone in a bathtub was peaceful, however, you need to have a quiet mind to enjoy that peace. A depressionless mind is bliss.

Peaceful Mind4. Slow Mornings

We glorify hustle, but have you ever sipped your coffee without rushing? Watched the sunlight crawl across the floor? A slow morning is an act of rebellion in a fast world.

5. Ability to TravelLuxury to Travel

Not just Instagrammable getaways. Even a train ride to the next town, with a playlist and no plans, feels like freedom. The privilege to move, explore, and detach is deeply underappreciated.

6. A House Full of Love

Not a mansion. Not a designer sofa. Just people who look you in the eye, laugh with you in the kitchen, ask if you’ve eaten, and let you be yourself. That kind of house is a palace.

However, we don't realise these when we have everything running good at our end, only when we lose these or even one of these, we would know how luxurious these were.

We chase lifestyles. But we rarely pause to notice how luxurious a simple life already is.

Sometimes luxury isn’t earned. It’s remembered.

And maybe, it’s okay if nobody claps for your slow morning or your peaceful walk. You’re still winning.

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