Haystack

We had the meet yesterday

I connected with a lot of folks

Faces, handshakes, glasses raised,

names I’d forget

But all these networking events

are something in a haystack problems

And I instantly searched for that One person

who wasn’t there.

 

One person who I was confident I would recognize

even if I had a little glimpse of her somehow

One person I had no idea what to say to

One person I just wanted to raise a toast to

and say “thank you”

One person I wanted to have a full-fledged conversation with

and wanted to know how her journey had been

Because I know no one understands her like me

and me like her

And I wonder if she longs to be understood like I do

I don’t even know if she wants to have that long conversation with me

I don’t know if I’ll be able to recognize her

Has she gotten fit? Has she gotten fat?

Maybe she doesn’t need to talk to me

because the man she chose

understands her better than I ever could

Maybe she wants to talk to me about how she feels unloved

because I’m the only one who would understand

Maybe she wants to elope with me

 

All these are hypotheticals

Assumptions

Fictions I rehearse in the theatre of my mind

It’s been five years

The only thing I can be sure of

is that she has changed

She’s not the girl I knew last

Even if her face were recognizable

I don’t know if her soul is

A man loves a woman hoping she’ll never change,

and she inevitably does

A woman only loves a man who changes for her,

and he rarely does.

 

Maybe I wasn’t searching for her,

but for the version of myself

that only she knew

 

Vishal Gupta

11^th May, 2025

Delayed Gratification

Masturbation is one of the most universal and paradoxically unspoken human behaviours, particularly among men. Depending on which study you cite, anywhere from 70% to 95% of men masturbate regularly, with frequency peaking in adolescence and early adulthood. In a 2017 survey, over 70% of urban Indian men admitted to regular self-stimulation. Global surveys like the National Survey of Sexual Health and Behavior (US) show that men aged 18–29 average 3–5 times per week, with frequency gradually tapering but never quite vanishing.

In short, masturbation is a routine part of male life. We give it time, focus, energy, and attention. It becomes enmeshed in our daily rhythms, serving various purposes: relief, distraction, boredom, stress reduction, or just plain physical urge. It doesn’t require planning. It doesn’t ask for permission. It slips into the background of our lives so smoothly, we stop even noticing it. And maybe that’s the point where it deserves to be noticed.

I’m a 34-year old man. And like most men, I’ve masturbated almost daily for years. My patterns have varied, less when I’ve been in relationships, more during isolated phases. Sometimes for desire. Sometimes for sleep. Sometimes for nothing at all.

But then, a few weeks ago, I just stopped.

There was no vow. No challenge. No calendar mark. Just... a pause. Initially, I felt the familiar pressure – the itch to reach for the old reflex. But I didn’t. Not out of strength, but apathy. A few days passed. Then a week. Then two. And suddenly I realized something strange: I didn’t even want to do it anymore.

But that wasn’t all. Alongside the abstinence came a series of changes – subtle at first, and then undeniable:

• My focus sharpened. My thoughts became clearer, my memory crisper.
• I began feeling more present, more sensitive. Not in a reactive way, but in a conscious one.
• My body held more energy. Not jittery. Just available.
• There was restlessness too. A kind of coiled fire. Not frustration, but a drive I didn’t quite know how to channel.

There were also physical sensations – a slight ache – the so-called "blue balls". But even those passed. The longer I went, the easier it became. It wasn’t willpower anymore. I just called it a new habit. But as I dug deeper, I realized that it was something more elemental. It was a sense of reorientation.

Curious, I began to read. And what I found startled me – not because it was shocking, but because it gave words to what I had already started feeling:

1. Dopamine Reset: Masturbation, especially with porn, floods your brain with dopamine. Done frequently, it can lead to desensitization. Abstaining allows your receptors to reset, restoring your baseline sensitivity to pleasure and motivation.
2. Testosterone Surge: Some studies show that abstaining for around 7 days can cause a short-term increase in testosterone – linked to drive, assertiveness, and vitality.
3. Energy Transmutation: Many men report that sexual energy, when not released, gets converted into creativity, ambition, and physical performance. I felt this too. That restless energy began to fuel workouts, ideas, words.
4. Emotional Rewiring: Masturbation can be a form of emotional regulation. We reach for it when anxious, bored, sad, or just tired. Without it, those emotions have to be felt. It’s uncomfortable at first. But over time, it builds emotional muscle.

For something so common, masturbation is almost never discussed, especially in Indian culture. It's joked about in hostels and among teenagers, but serious, nuanced, non-judgmental conversations are rare.

And yet it’s an inherent urge. Testosterone kicks in at puberty. Fantasies begin. Exploration happens. It’s natural. But when does nature become habit? And when does habit become compulsion? That’s where the line between physical need and addiction appears. There are a few common signs of dependency:

• You need porn to feel anything.
• You masturbate multiple times a day and still feel unsatisfied.
• It becomes your default stress release.
• It replaces emotional connection or real intimacy.
• It affects sleep, productivity, or social life.

This isn’t just about semen. It’s about dopamine loops, shame cycles, and escapism. Going without doesn’t make you a monk. It makes you aware. Your mind clears. Your instincts feel stronger. Your self-control grows – not in repression, but in presence. You stop being tugged by impulse. You start owning your direction.

In his book “Secrets of Shiva”, Devdutt Pattnaik talks about how Shiva's controlled abstinence gives him cosmic power. He's not celibate out of fear – but because his energy is focused inward. In Hindu mythology, abstaining creates heat – tapas. The rishis practiced it. Shiva embodies it. There are even incidents such as Hanuman and Rishi Bharadwaj’s accidental ejaculations, displaying that abstinence keeps men in a state of perpetual “on the edge”. It also means that these men are always hyper-aware and active. Always at the pre-orgasmic awareness.

Abstinence doesn’t kill desire. It charges it. It makes you alert. Watchful. Deep.

I’m not advocating lifelong abstinence. This isn’t “NoFap evangelism.” I’m not saying masturbation is bad. It isn’t. In moderation and with mindfulness, it’s healthy and enjoyable. But I do think we’ve become too passive with our own impulses. And when you go without, you begin to see:

• Emotional clarity
• Energy reserve
• Rebalanced dopamine
• Rekindled motivation
• Heightened desire – not constant stimulation, but focused hunger

However, there are risks associated with total abstinence as well. Irritability, aggression, sleep disturbances, loneliness, and emotional bottlenecking (if not expressed elsewhere) are common risks of abstinence. The solution isn’t to ban yourself or indulge endlessly. The solution is to ask, “why am I doing this right now?”

If the answer is boredom, stress, or avoidance – pause. If the answer is conscious desire – go ahead. The act doesn’t define you. The awareness does.

This journey didn’t start as a resolution. It started with noticing. Noticing how much of my energy was automated. How often I reached for comfort instead of connection. And how that small shift – of doing nothing – changed the way I relate to everything.

You don’t need to go cold turkey. You just need to be conscious.

Because sometimes the most powerful thing a man can do is not act. Not because he’s weak.

But because he’s finally awake.

Tingles

The room hums with silence.

A stillness that presses—thick, unyielding.

Soft light spills through the window.

Golden. Faint. A caress on the floor.

Her shadow sways—alone, restless.

The air feels alive—watching her.

A breeze slips in—uninvited.

Cool fingers graze her neck.

She shivers—small, involuntary.

Her hair shifts—brushes her collarbone.

She adjusts her stance.

Feet bare on cold wood.

A quiet rebellion—standing still.

Something waits—beyond the walls.

Her pulse taps—soft, a secret rhythm.

The clock stares—relentless, mocking.

Each tick a thread pulled tight.

She exhales—slow, controlled.

A floorboard groans—distant, alive.

Her head snaps—sharp, alert.

Nothing moves.

Yet the room breathes.

The air shifts—sweetens, thickens.

A scent creeps in—subtle, bold.

Leather. Earth. Smoke. Him.

Her lips part—dry, trembling.

She tastes it—feels it first.

A ripple—deep, beneath her ribs.

Small. A flicker of heat.

It coils—lazy, patient.

Her fingers twitch—empty, seeking.

She steps—hesitates.

The window calls—night presses in.

Stars blink—cold, indifferent.

Her reflection stares back.

Wide eyes. Soft mouth.

A stranger—aching, alive.

The clock drags—each second a weight.

Her chest rises—falls, uneven.

A shadow stretches—darkens the doorway.

Tall. Broad. Unrushed.

Her throat tightens—air turns sharp.

Eyes lift—slow, daring.

They crash into his.

Dark. Deep. A storm held still.

Her chest blooms—hot, tight, alive.

He stands—rooted, silent.

Not a word.

Not yet.

But she feels him—everywhere.

A current hums—unseen, fierce.

Her skin wakes—prickles, hums.

A step—boots thud on wood.

Heavy. Deliberate. Sure.

Her ribs cage a frantic beat.

The space shrinks—walls lean in.

Her spine stiffens—defiant, fragile.

Another step—closer, inevitable.

Her breath stumbles—catches, holds.

A memory sparks—his voice.

Low. Rough. A growl in the dark.

She’d laughed once—free, unguarded.

His grin—sharp, rare, hers.

It flickers—burns in her mind.

She blinks—fights the tide.

Loses.

He’s near—too near now.

Heat rolls off him—wild, untamed.

Her heart kicks—caged, desperate.

Fingers graze her arm—light, testing.

She flinches—skin ignites.

The touch stays—slow, claiming.

Her edges soften—melt, blur.

Fear tangles with hunger.

A sigh slips out—soft, jagged.

He shifts—closes the gap.

Breath brushes her temple.

Warm. Steady. Alive.

Her knees buckle—betray her.

The room spins—tilts, fades.

Her hands clench—nails bite palms.

She smells him—close, consuming.

A thread snaps—deep, hidden.

He leans—slow, deliberate.

Lips hover—near, not touching.

Her pulse roars—hot, deafening.

A pause—cruel, endless.

She trembles—raw, exposed.

His gaze pins her—sees through.

Her walls crack—quietly, completely.

A whisper: “Mine.”

She gasps—shatters.

 

Vishal Gupta

25 March, 2025

Ik Onkar

“We all said even though that ideal wasn’t always observed, that was the right ideal to have.”

– Barack Obama

 

In the midst of a battlefield, a distraught warrior asks his charioteer how navigate the chasms of his soul…

In a palace, a wise king asks a deformed sage about the nature of reality and bondage…

In a dream, a wizard asks his departed mentor the meaning of his journey…

 

A vibration trembles across creation. Not a word. Not a noise. A remembrance. Echoing before the first thought.

 

Ik Onkar…

The One. The First and the last. The primordial sound of the universe. The first sound that ever was. The last sound that ever will be. A tower of fire without beginning or end. The cosmic microwave background. He is consciousness. He is the soul of the universe. The circumpunct. The One

 

Sat Naam…

Ana al-Haqq. Altheia. Tao. Truth. The one truth. The only truth. Truth is all there is

 

Karta Purakh…

He is the creator. He is the creation. He is the Architect. He speaks. He sings. Kun Faya Kun – Let there be…

 

Nirbh-a-o-Nirvair. Akaal Moorat. Anjoonee Saibhn…

Beyond fear. Beyond hate. Beyond time. Beyond space. Beyond birth. Being. Always was. Self-preserving. He is the source code behind all things. The logic before the language. The silence before the song. Everything Everywhere All at Once.

 

Gur Prasaad. Jap…

He can be discovered as a grace of the teachings. We endlessly recite only his name. We remember only his tale. We constantly think of him when we are thinking and we think of him when we are not thinking. We devote to him.

 

Aad sach. Jugaad sach. Hai bhi sach. Nanak Hosee bhi sach…

He is the only truth since the beginning. He is the only truth over time. He is the only truth right now. He will be the only truth in the future. He is Sanatan. He is Tathagata. He is that is. Eru Iluvatar. The Force. The Source.

 

Sochai sauch na hovae, je sochee lakh vaar…

The impurities of the mind cannot be purified by thoughts, even if you think for a lakh times. Neti, Neti – the path to realizing is to unrealize all that isn’t. Fanaa – annihilation of the self.

 

Chupai chup na hovae, je lao rahaa liv taar…

“You’re waiting for something… maybe your next life.” Stillness is part of the way, not the way itself. The chatter of the soul shall not be calmed by silence, even if one stays quiet forever

 

Bhukhi-aa bhukh naa utree, je banaa puree-a bhaar…

The hunger shall not be satiated, even if all material desires are fulfilled. This is Trishna. This is Naf. The insatiable craving. The greed of dragons. The One Ring. The things you own that end up owning you. For what good is it to gain the whole world?

 

Sehas si aanpaa lakh hoh ta, ik naa chalai naal…

Bhagya. Fate. All the world’s a stage. I can possess all the wits of the world, it will not lead to my desired outcome

 

Kiv sachi-aaraa ho-ee-ai, kiv koorhai tutai paal…

So what is the path to truth? How do I break the falsehoods? How do I know moksha from maya? How will the truth set me free? How do I overcome the ego? How do I awaken to reality? What lies beyond the veil?

 

Hukam rajai chalnaa, Nanak likhi-aa naal

There is only one path to truth. To follow his order and to walk his path. That is the only path I can travel. That is the only path there is. Accept.

Tariffs, Deficits, and Politics

The latest wave of tariffs announced by the Trump administration comes wrapped in the language of fiscal prudence. Senior officials and Republican leaders have argued that tariffs are necessary to “reduce the debt” because of America’s deficit. Some of these tariffs are even calculated using formulas tied to trade deficits with individual countries.

There’s a problem here – a simple but glaring one. A trade deficit is not the same as a fiscal deficit.

The fiscal deficit is the gap between what the U.S. government spends and what it earns. That gap is bridged by borrowing, which accumulates into the national debt. This debt-to-GDP ratio is indeed alarmingly high, and it does weaken long-term fiscal health.

But the trade deficit is something else entirely. It’s just the difference between imports and exports. A U.S. trade deficit doesn’t mean the country is “losing.” It simply means Americans are buying more from abroad than they are selling. Often this is a sign of strength: higher incomes, foreign capital, stronger consumption, and a currency so trusted that foreigners are willing to accept it in exchange for goods. In fact, countries like Germany and China, which run surpluses, often do so by suppressing domestic consumption. The U.S. has run trade deficits for decades, yet its living standards, innovation, and global clout have remained unmatched. So to punish trade deficits as if they’re inherently “bad” is misguided economics.

Tariffs will not fix the fiscal deficit. They may raise a bit of revenue, but in the face of trillion-dollar budget gaps, that’s a rounding error. And tariffs won’t reliably fix the trade deficit either – they simply make imports more expensive, which hurts American consumers and often shifts supply chains rather than reducing imports overall. At best, tariffs create short-term political optics, not long-term economic fixes.

The rationale grows murkier when it comes to India. Washington has justified new tariffs on the grounds that India imports Russian oil, claiming this indirectly funds Moscow’s war on Ukraine. But the reality is more complicated. India refines much of this oil and sells the products onward, often to Europe and even Ukraine itself – effectively reducing global energy costs. Punishing India for this arbitrage makes little sense. In fact, it risks pushing India into deeper alignment with Russia.

What explains these contradictions? Economics clearly isn’t the guiding principle. Tariffs serve a political purpose: they create the optics of toughness, they provide a simple enemy narrative (“China steals jobs,” “India funds Russia”), and they appeal to domestic voters even if the economics are dubious.

The result is a policy tool wielded less like a scalpel and more like a blunt club. The U.S. may present tariffs as a cure for deficits, but in practice they are little more than populist theatrics – a confusion of definitions masking an absence of coherent strategy.