#646
Ten days. Four cities. A hundred barricades. A thousand thoughts.
I’ve just returned from what feels less like a work trip and more like a test of endurance. The kind of trip where the kilometres weren’t the only things being clocked — my patience, spine, senses, and spirit were all put through the wringer. From the dusty chaos of Bombay outer, industrial belt to the stillness of Karaikudi, my ancestral home — this journey was a mix of grit and grace.
It began in Pondicherry, where I visited a pharmaceuticals site. Their systems were decent from a GMP perspective — not perfect, but far better than many. Safety excellence, as usual, played the second fiddle to compliance. This has become a running theme in Indian industry: they stop at “compliance” and mistake it for “excellence.” It's frustrating to see organisations chase audit scores, but remain blind to real risk.
Velankanni Church with Lalitha and her mother.
From there, I moved on to Velankanni, seeking something quieter. And I found it. A peaceful 90 minutes of prayer, unhurried and uncluttered. We offered a cradle to Ava Maria — a symbolic gesture, (for the grand kids) but also, in a way, a whisper of hope. No crowd, no chaos, just calm. Perhaps it was a divine balancing act, because what came next was anything but peaceful.
Outer Bombay, a legacy facility, took me back into the heart of India’s industrial rust belt. Layers of age, average systems, Inertia in tons, — and now a new leadership trying to turn the ship around. They have intent. That’s a start. But it will take more than intent to unlearn decades of “chalta hai” and rekindle pride in process.
And then there was Karaikudi.
My soul's compass.
The home is locked now. But clean, cared for, still echoing with memories. Two generations before me still walk those halls in my mind. The swing creaks a little, but I could swear I saw my mother’s saree hanging from the line… memory plays these tricks, especially when the heart is full. I didn’t stay long. I never do. The longer I stay, the harder it is to leave.
Finally, back to Bangalore, just in time to receive my cousin arriving from Portland. Woke up at 2 a.m. to coordinate, chased traffic in dusty lanes, wished for rain, and silently whispered to myself — tomorrow, I stop.
Because amidst all this — the site walks, the train rides, the ancestral flashbacks, and industrial fatigue — what I’ve missed most is Lalitha. Two weeks have passed and we’ve barely had a real conversation, let alone sat hand-in-hand like we used to every morning 5am. It’s not loneliness — it’s a longing. A quiet, familiar space that only she can fill.
So from tomorrow, I pause.
No emails. No checklists. Just conversations. Just breath. Just rain, if we’re lucky.
Because sometimes, we don’t need more kilometres travelled.
We need to travel inward — back to what anchors us.
Karthik
13th April 2025
4pm. (Boy one tiered man!!).
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