Pahom ran for land. Gupta ran for billions. Napoleon ran for Europe. They all ended up in the same six feet. Your brain is wired to chase — dopamine rewards the hunt, never the having. The hedonic treadmill keeps spinning. The goalpost keeps moving. This piece asks the only question your ambition will never volunteer: when do you turn around? Because the sun is already setting. And your Tuesday evening is waiting.

( A fictional diary which is a reality in bits n pieces ) Dear Diary, I am Raman, and this is my story. I am writing this wearing my father's oversized shirt and his dhoti, which had been lying in my mother's sentimental iron suitcase for more than a decade. I was born in this Koti village a long time ago. I was the only child to my parents, which gave me a better life than the other village kids. When I say a better life, I meant not going to sleep with an empty stomach and