Completing 100 kms of running in August 2025 felt steady and comfortable. I managed to pace the runs across the month without any rush toward the end, which made the experience smoother than some of the earlier months where I had to push harder in the last few days. Distributing the distance evenly gave me enough recovery between sessions and kept the body fresh. It also removed the sense of pressure that sometimes builds when the goal is left too late. Reaching the number in this way felt natural, almost like the routine had set itself without effort.

Running 100 kms in a month is not a huge achievement in competitive terms, but it remains a practical and achievable target for personal fitness. It is neither too high to risk injury nor too low to feel insignificant. For someone balancing work and other routines, it sits in a comfortable zone that challenges the body while leaving space for rest days. The number also has a psychological clarity—breaking it into roughly 25 kms per week feels simple enough to manage, and the math works out in a way that is easy to track. It is the kind of target that does not overwhelm, which is perhaps why it feels sustainable.

Another aspect of pacing the runs was the benefit it gave to consistency. By aiming to finish a certain distance each week, I did not need to change plans or make adjustments at the last minute. Shorter weekday runs mixed with slightly longer weekend sessions balanced the effort well. This mix gave variety without making the routine too rigid. It also made the process less about completing a single large goal and more about enjoying individual runs that added up gradually. Looking back, this distribution seems to be the main reason why the target felt easy this time.

There is also a lesson here about setting goals that are measurable yet not extreme. A monthly 100 km mark works as a reliable framework to keep running in the background without taking over other activities. It allows space for swimming, stretching, or other forms of exercise that support the routine. At the same time, it is far enough to bring the sense of discipline that running naturally demands. Unlike one-off long races that require weeks of focused preparation, this kind of monthly target blends into daily life without friction. It is a reminder that sustainability in fitness often comes from choosing the right scale.

As September begins, the thought is less about pushing for a higher number and more about maintaining the same balance. The satisfaction of completing the distance with ease is better than chasing an inflated target that risks burnout. Over time, stringing together months of 100 kms may prove to be more valuable than one exceptional peak. The habit of showing up consistently matters more than the total itself. August was a good example of how small steps, done repeatedly, can build into something solid without strain.

The rains in Delhi this season have once again tested the drainage systems of the city. Roads get flooded quickly, and the problem extends into buildings as well. Water seepage, clogged pipes, and overflowing drains become common, showing how fragile the basic systems of maintenance are when faced with heavy rainfall. For many buildings, especially older ones, the monsoon becomes a test that exposes hidden cracks and neglected upkeep. This cycle repeats every year, and yet the issues remain largely the same.

What often comes to light is that drainage systems inside residential and commercial complexes are not maintained as regularly as they should be. Gutters remain choked with debris, terrace outlets are blocked, and rainwater accumulates in spaces that were not designed to hold it. The neglect shows in the form of damp walls, patches of mold, and even structural weakening over time. A few hours of continuous downpour can overwhelm pipes and push water into basements or parking areas. These outcomes are not unusual, but they are avoidable with consistent maintenance and planning.

The rains also underline how temporary solutions are never enough. Covering leaks with quick fixes or installing makeshift pumps during emergencies may solve the immediate problem, but the core issues remain untouched. Buildings, whether large apartments or small offices, need regular inspection of waterproofing, roof tiling, drainage pipelines, and sump systems before the monsoon begins. Without this, small cracks grow into bigger problems that cost more to repair and create prolonged inconvenience for those living or working inside. The cost of prevention is always less than the cost of repair, but it often gets ignored.

At the same time, one cannot separate the role of civic infrastructure from the maintenance within individual buildings. When city drains are unable to carry away water, the problem flows backward into private spaces. Even a well-maintained building struggles when the surrounding area is waterlogged. This creates a combined responsibility, where both residents and city authorities need to prepare before the rains arrive. The recurring floods in Delhi show that the system is stretched beyond capacity, and while larger solutions will take time, small preventive steps at the individual level can at least reduce some of the damage.

As the rains continue, it becomes clear that preparation is the only real defense. Buildings that receive regular checks, timely repairs, and proper drainage clearance manage to withstand the downpour better. Others keep facing the same cycle of leakage, flooding, and expensive repairs. Living in Delhi means accepting that monsoons will push systems to their limit, but it also means that maintenance is not optional. The yearly reminder comes in the form of flooded basements, damp walls, and the strong smell of moisture inside homes. Every drop of rain makes it more evident that planning ahead is not just good practice, but necessary for living in a city where the rains are always stronger than the systems meant to handle them.

The aspirational buyer has become one of the most important segments for marketers to understand. This group is not defined by what they currently own but by what they want to own and how they see themselves progressing. Their purchase decisions are shaped by the desire to move a step ahead in lifestyle, appearance, or social signaling. They do not always make choices based on affordability alone but often stretch budgets to align with how they want to be perceived. This makes them a critical audience for brands that are trying to grow beyond utility and into aspiration.

Behaviorally, the aspirational buyer is more active in discovery. They spend time browsing social media, following influencers, and comparing what peers are choosing. Their interest goes beyond product features into stories and experiences attached to the product. They are also more responsive to branding that signals exclusivity or achievement. Unlike purely price-sensitive buyers, they are willing to wait, save, or finance a purchase if it aligns with their goals of upward movement. The decision-making process is slower but more emotionally invested.

Where they spend time is a clear indicator of their intent. Online platforms, especially those that showcase lifestyle and success, attract them in large numbers. Offline, they visit malls, branded showrooms, and premium experiences even when they are not immediately buying. This exposure keeps their aspiration alive and fuels their sense of what to aim for next. The boundary between browsing and buying is thin, as their decisions are often triggered by moments when the desire aligns with opportunity, such as discounts, new launches, or peer recommendations.

For marketers, the challenge lies in decoding not just what the aspirational buyer can afford today but what they are preparing to afford tomorrow. Communication that emphasizes status, identity, and belonging resonates more strongly than pure utility. At the same time, the buyer is cautious about authenticity. They look for signals that a brand truly represents the lifestyle they want rather than just selling a product. Failure to connect on this level makes it easy for them to switch to another brand that offers stronger emotional alignment.

In this sense, studying the aspirational buyer is not just about immediate sales but about long-term positioning. The segment reveals how consumers climb through categories, moving from entry-level products to more premium ones as their means grow. Each choice is a statement of progress, and each interaction with a brand builds or reduces loyalty. For any marketer, these are the most important questions: what does the aspirational buyer dream about, how do they decide, and how can a brand become part of that journey.

Paying for exclusivity is at the core of many products and services, especially in travel and events. Business class tickets and VIP tickets are built on this idea. They offer more comfort, better service, and faster access, but the real differentiator is exclusion. By paying more, one avoids the crowd, reduces waiting, and shares space only with others who have made the same choice. It is less about the seat or the meal and more about the filtered environment that money creates.

This model works because demand is not just for utility but also for separation. The business class cabin on a flight does not exist in isolation—it is meaningful because the economy cabin exists alongside it. Similarly, VIP tickets at concerts or matches matter because they provide distance from the general audience. Exclusion creates value, and companies price it accordingly. The higher ticket price is a way to ensure that only a smaller set of people access that level of service, reinforcing the exclusivity further.

The psychology behind this is consistent across industries. People are willing to pay not only for tangible upgrades but also for a curated gentry. Traveling with fewer passengers, attending an event with a quieter section, or accessing a lounge with select entry are all experiences defined by who is kept out as much as by what is included. It reflects a broader truth about consumption—that satisfaction often comes from relative advantage rather than absolute need.

This also explains why these services remain profitable despite higher costs of delivery. The willingness to pay is not strictly about comfort but about the assurance of refinement. The food on a flight could be replicated elsewhere at a fraction of the cost, but the context in which it is served makes it feel different. The lounge access before boarding or the priority exit after landing are all part of creating a bubble. The same applies to VIP areas in stadiums or clubs, where the view may not be dramatically better but the filtered company makes it desirable.

Looking at it this way, exclusivity becomes a product in itself. The service is designed around scarcity, and the price ensures that scarcity is maintained. Paying for business class or VIP tickets is essentially paying for the right to limit access. It is not always rational in terms of value for money, but it aligns with how markets shape themselves around human preferences. The model is unlikely to change because the desire to separate and refine experiences is persistent. Businesses understand this well, and customers continue to reinforce it by choosing exclusivity whenever they can afford it.

The Stanley Cup and Crocs are two very different products, yet both have built strong user connections through personalization. The Stanley Cup has become more than just a water bottle, with users choosing colors, accessories, and engravings to make it their own. Crocs, which once had a reputation for being functional but plain, found renewed popularity through Jibbitz charms that let wearers express their identity in a small but visible way. These examples show that utility alone is no longer enough. Products gain longevity when users can adapt them to reflect personal choice.

This trend is not just about style but about building attachment. A water bottle is easy to replace, but one that carries a chosen color or engraved initials feels less disposable. Shoes may wear down, but if they reflect personality through custom touches, the owner is more likely to repurchase or stick with the brand. The success of Stanley Cup and Crocs demonstrates that personalization builds emotional investment, which has become as important as physical durability. It turns a standard item into something that feels uniquely owned.

The larger shift here is how people approach daily use products. In earlier years, the focus was on function, cost, and availability. Now, consumers expect an element of choice that lets them stand apart without compromising practicality. Technology and supply chains have made it easier for companies to offer variations at scale, and customers respond strongly when given that flexibility. The market is no longer only about mass production but about mass personalization.

This change also highlights how routine items can evolve into lifestyle symbols. Carrying a Stanley Cup or wearing Crocs says something about the person, not because of what the product does but because of how it has been customized. In crowded markets, personalization becomes a differentiator that drives community and conversation around a product. It creates identity markers that extend beyond the basic use case. The effect is subtle but powerful in how it shifts brand perception and loyalty.

Looking ahead, personalization is likely to expand across most daily use categories. Bags, headphones, stationery, kitchenware, and even furniture are being reimagined with modular designs or customizable features. The logic remains consistent: people value choice and want to see themselves reflected in what they own. Personalization is not a passing trend but a structural change in consumer behavior, one that will continue shaping how products are designed, marketed, and sustained in the future.

Sunday cricket often leaves me with mixed feelings about how I perform with the bat. Last week, I came away disappointed, unable to build momentum or stay long enough at the crease to contribute meaningfully. This time, I approached it differently and focused on starting small. Instead of chasing boundaries early, I looked for singles and twos, trying to settle into a rhythm. That helped slow things down in my head and gave me space to judge the bowling better. The runs came gradually, and the innings felt more controlled.

Once I had a base, the confidence to play more freely followed. A couple of fours opened up the scoring, and the balance shifted from just surviving to pushing the score forward. Timing improved, and the shots carried better as the innings went on. By then, the bowlers had to adjust their lengths, and that opened the chance for a few sixes. It reminded me that innings are rarely built in leaps but in steady steps. What looked like a slow start eventually became a satisfying performance.

The change was less about technique and more about patience. In amateur cricket, it is easy to want to impress early and then lose the wicket chasing a shot that was not needed. This time, keeping the scoreboard moving in ones and twos was enough to settle. It also kept the pressure from building up, both on me and on the team. The game felt less rushed and more like an opportunity to play situations instead of chasing quick results.

There is a larger lesson in how innings progress. Success often looks like it comes from big moments, but those only arrive when the foundation has been set. Building through small contributions allows the bigger shots to matter more. Looking back at the match, the satisfaction came not just from the boundaries but from knowing that the innings had a flow. The contrast with the previous week showed how small adjustments in mindset can shift the outcome entirely.

I will carry this into future games, focusing on the basics first before looking for the big hits. Every innings will not follow the same pattern, but the approach of starting steady and building up feels sustainable. It helps the team, keeps me grounded, and creates space for confidence to grow naturally. Cricket, in this way, mirrors a lot of other parts of life where patience and small steps make the difference.

Moving the office to Baani City Centre in Gurgaon feels like a practical step for Edzy. The location is not directly on the metro line, which can make daily commutes slightly less convenient, but it balances out with other advantages. The space itself is adequate for the team to grow, and the absence of congestion or crowding around the building makes it easier to settle in. For early stage work, the reliability of reaching the office without unnecessary stress matters as much as the office setup. Ample parking is another benefit, especially in a city where parking is often a hidden challenge. These small logistical details contribute to building a smoother work routine.

The process of setting up here has been gradual, and that has given time to observe how the environment affects daily work. In most startup offices, energy tends to come from the people rather than the space, but a functional and accessible workplace removes friction from the basics. At Baani City Centre, the quieter surroundings create a sense of focus, which is important when long hours and constant discussions are part of the workday. The team can come in and get started without the distractions of crowded commercial hubs. It is a trade-off between ease of transport and a calmer daily rhythm.

There is also a symbolic value in having a stable office after months of shifting between temporary setups. Even if the location is not central, it signals that the company is settling into a routine. For team members, it provides predictability in where and how they work, which in turn affects their motivation and comfort. A workplace is not just about furniture and connectivity, it sets the tone for how people think about their role in the organization. Stability of space often translates into stability of focus, something essential in early stages where the team is small and every contribution matters.

The choice of Baani City Centre also reflects the priorities of the company at this stage. Accessibility for clients or external visitors is less critical compared to the need for a consistent, affordable, and reliable base of operations. The office is easier to reach by those who prefer driving, and the availability of parking makes that option practical. While public transport connectivity remains limited, the current size of the team allows flexibility in managing this. Over time, as the team grows, this balance between location convenience and work environment may need to be reconsidered, but for now it works well.

Looking ahead, this space will serve as a base for building culture and execution habits. The early days of a startup are shaped as much by physical spaces as by the people who occupy them. A calm, functional office with fewer distractions allows sharper focus on hiring, execution, and daily collaboration. The move to Baani City Centre is not about making a statement but about creating the conditions where steady work can happen. It is the kind of decision that feels small on the outside but gradually shapes the pace and discipline of the company from within.

Moving into a new office in Gurgaon for Edzy feels like a small but important step. For a company at an early stage, the space is less about walls and desks and more about creating an environment where work can happen consistently. Location matters for accessibility and daily commute, but equally important is the sense of belonging that comes with a shared workplace. After months of remote calls and scattered interactions, having a physical base provides both structure and accountability. The decision is as much about signaling seriousness to ourselves as it is about preparing for growth.

Hiring continues to be a slow and deliberate process. It often feels tempting to speed things up, but early hires shape the culture for years to come. Skills on paper are easy to check, but the real fit shows in how a person approaches problems, collaborates under pressure, and communicates with the team. Conversations with candidates take time, and references sometimes add clarity that resumes do not. In an early stage company, each person joining is not just filling a role but building a foundation. Misalignment at this stage can cost far more than delayed progress.

The office itself helps in this effort because face-to-face interactions make cultural fit visible faster. A person’s working style, their response to ambiguity, and how they handle feedback become clearer when observed over shared workdays. For Edzy, this is crucial because the problems we are solving do not have ready-made solutions. Everyone needs to be comfortable with uncertainty while still keeping execution steady. The office is where ideas get tested in real time, and where the team learns to handle both successes and setbacks. It is the testing ground for resilience and patience.

Building a team in Gurgaon also connects us with a wider talent pool. The city offers a mix of young professionals and experienced people who have worked in larger organizations. For a startup, striking the right balance between fresh energy and seasoned judgment matters. Some roles demand quick learning and adaptability, while others benefit from prior exposure to scale and structure. The hiring decisions need to reflect this mix without tilting too far in either direction. The goal is to find people who understand that they are not just employees but partners in creating something new.

As the office takes shape and the team slowly builds, the reality of early stage growth becomes more visible. Progress feels uneven, with stretches of waiting followed by sudden leaps. Setting up a workplace is simple compared to setting up the right team. Tools, furniture, and internet connections can be arranged in days, but trust and culture take months to establish. The process demands patience, careful judgment, and the willingness to accept that not every decision will be perfect. Yet, it is in these choices that the long-term direction of Edzy is being set, one hire and one conversation at a time.

The decision to shift my workout regimen back to the early morning was executed today, beginning with a one-kilometer swim followed immediately by a session at the gym. This frontloading of physical activity into the first hours of the day is a structural change to my schedule, one that I have employed before and whose benefits I understand empirically. The mechanics are simple yet effective: the day's primary physical task is completed before most other tasks have even been considered. This approach eliminates the possibility of the workout being skipped due to subsequent fatigue, unexpected work obligations, or a simple decline in motivation that often accompanies the end of the day. The morning is a controlled environment, less susceptible to the chaos that can derail evening plans.

There is a distinct qualitative difference between a morning workout and one performed later. Completing a swim and weight training before the workday begins creates a sense of earned momentum. The psychological effect is significant; the most demanding item on the daily agenda is checked off before many people have started their day. This generates a baseline of accomplishment that persists throughout the subsequent hours. The physical exertion also induces a state of mental clarity and focus, a sharpness that is directly beneficial for the cognitive tasks that follow. The fatigue felt afterwards is a productive one, a reminder of effort expended, unlike the draining fatigue that comes from a long day of mental work which can make an evening workout feel like a burdensome chore.

The most valuable aspect of this shift is not the workout itself, but the reclamation of time. The two hours dedicated to swimming and gym training feel fundamentally more productive than two hours found elsewhere in the day. This is time that would otherwise likely be spent sleeping or in a state of low-energy preparation for the day. By repurposing it for high-intensity activity, I am effectively creating a net gain in productive waking hours. The day feels longer and more capacious because a major personal commitment has been satisfied without encroaching on the time allocated for professional work, personal projects, or leisure. This creates a cleaner separation between different types of effort, preventing the bleed-over that can make a single, long block of work feel interminable.

Adhering to this schedule requires a corresponding shift in evening habits. It necessitates an earlier bedtime and a more disciplined wind-down routine to ensure sufficient recovery. The trade-off, however, is decidedly positive. Sacrificing late-night hours, which are often less productive and given to passive entertainment, for the sake of a more vigorous and productive morning is a favorable exchange. The challenge lies in consistency, in overcoming the initial resistance of waking up while it is still dark and the body is reluctant. Yet, the payoff is immediate on days like today, where the entire remainder of the day feels structured upon a foundation of completed personal work.

This return to a morning-centric routine is a recalibration of priorities. It is an acknowledgment that personal health and fitness are best served by being treated as non-negotiable, primary appointments rather than optional activities to be fitted in when convenient. The quality of the day is undeniably improved, not just through the physiological benefits of exercise but through the psychological advantage of starting from a position of strength and completion. Those extra two hours in the morning are not an addition to the day's workload; they are an investment that pays dividends in focus, time management, and overall satisfaction for the hours that follow.

Conducting interviews for the Gurgaon office has become an exercise in managing expectations against a predictable pattern of attrition throughout the hiring process. A significant portion of this attrition manifests as candidate ghosting, a phenomenon where individuals cease all communication after initially expressing strong interest. This disappearance occurs at various stages: after the application is acknowledged, following the scheduling of a video interview, or, most frustratingly, after a verbal offer is extended. This behavior has become an accepted, albeit inefficient, part of the recruitment landscape. The process demands a substantial investment of time and resources from the organization, from screening resumes and coordinating calendars to conducting multiple rounds of discussion, and its abrupt termination by the candidate without notice renders that investment void.

A particular nuance of Gurgaon exacerbates this issue, namely the geographical expectations of candidates residing in Delhi and Noida. Many applicants confidently assert their willingness and ability to commute, viewing the distance as a negligible factor during the initial stages of discussion. However, as the prospect transitions from abstract possibility to concrete reality, the practical implications of a daily inter-city commute appear to settle in. The significant time commitment, the cost of travel, and the unreliability of traffic often lead to a reassessment. This realization frequently does not result in a formal withdrawal but in silent disengagement. The candidate simply stops responding, perhaps finding it easier to avoid the discomfort of declining than to confront it directly, leaving the hiring team in a state of unresolved suspension.

This pattern highlights a broader space for improvement in professional courtesy among a segment of the candidate pool. The process of applying, filling out detailed forms, and booking video meetings represents a mutual investment of time. A candidate's participation signals a serious intent, and their subsequent unexplained absence represents a breakdown of that professional contract. While individuals are undoubtedly free to pursue or decline opportunities, the method of withdrawal is telling. Ghosting reflects a avoidance of difficult communication rather than a conscious decision to prioritize one’s own needs. It indicates a development area in professional communication skills, where providing a simple, timely notice of withdrawal is a basic expectation that is often unmet.

From an operational standpoint, this behavior necessitates building buffers and contingencies into the hiring workflow. It is imprudent to consider any role filled until the candidate has physically joined and completed initial onboarding. This means maintaining a pipeline of active candidates for longer and managing internal expectations about time-to-fill metrics. The emotional investment in any single candidate must be tempered, as the likelihood of last-minute disappearance is a real variable in the equation. This is not a reflection of cynicism but a practical adaptation to a consistent market behavior. The process becomes less about finding the perfect candidate on the first try and more about systematically navigating through attrition until a reliable match is secured.

Ultimately, this recurring experience serves as a reminder of the inherent uncertainties in building a team. While ghosting is an operational inefficiency and a minor professional frustration, it is also a filter. A candidate who lacks the professionalism to communicate their decision, regardless of what it is, is likely not a suitable cultural fit for an organization that values accountability and clear communication. Their disappearance, while momentarily disruptive, is a form of self-selection that prevents a potentially more costly mis-hire later. The process continues, therefore, with an understanding that a certain volume of interaction will be lost, but that the successful outcome is ultimately determined by finding the individual for whom the opportunity is the right fit, geographically and professionally.