Musings of a White Haired Teenager

Anonymous Courage Those who are regular readers of my blog would have noted that in a mildly entertaining turn of events, a supposedly anonymous interlocutor has been responding to my recent posts with admirable enthusiasm, apparently operating under the assumption that anonymity has rendered him unrecognizable . It is a charming belief. One almost hesitates to disturb it. Because, in truth, the identity is not particularly difficult to discern. The patterns are familiar, the voice is consistent, and the performance - how shall one put this -lacks the subtlety required for a convincing disguise. And just to make the exercise even more efficient, I have already been generous enough to identify the author as male, thereby eliminating roughly half the possible candidates in one polite stroke. One imagines the remaining pool is now feeling slightly uncomfortable. Out of courtesy, I have chosen not to identify him. There is a certain generosity in allowing someone the comfort of their cho...

Fakery Without Imagination The notion of being fake and creating information that appears plausible is nothing new. Because mythology, folklore, and everyday life have long operated where deception is not only permitted but often admired - provided it is done well. The Trojan Horse was not the work of someone with a weekend app, a digital photograph altering tool, and an inflated sense of their own cleverness. It required imagination, patience, timing, and most importantly an understanding of how people think. Good deception has always had a certain elegance. It respected the intelligence of the audience. It required the deceiver to be, inconveniently enough, intelligent. Fast forward to the present, where we have achieved what can only be described as the great democratization of fakery. The tools are now everywhere. Everyone has access. Anyone can edit an image, construct a narrative, alter a reality, and present it to the world with the quiet confidence of someone who assumes acce...

The Safe Word: Mentor (Audio Deep Dive  English ; Audio Deep Dive  Bangla ) In academia a curious word reappears with remarkable regularity: “mentor.” Universities, to their credit, actually use the word correctly. In the academic narrative the mentor occupies a specific role. The student is the protagonist; the mentor stands nearby, offering guidance, asking inconvenient questions, occasionally pointing toward a door the student may not have noticed. It suggests intellectual companionship without ownership of the story. It assumes a respectful distance between guide and protagonist. But words, like species introduced into foreign ecosystems, tend to mutate when they migrate. Outside the university environment the word “mentor” has developed an entirely new career - less about guidance and more about narrative sanitation. For instance, in a situation in which someone once played a rather active role in another person’s life, the messy, logistical, occasionally exhausting ...

Unless one has been living under a rock one has heard the word redaction . It sounds official, procedural, almost responsible. Documents are released, transparency is declared, and then entire paragraphs look like they lost a fight with a black marker. Nobody says the document is false; they simply insist that some parts are “not relevant at this time,” which is a polite way of saying the truth has been rearranged into something emotionally convenient. What is fascinating is how perfectly this practice migrates into relationships, where people do not technically speak falsehoods, they just distribute edited versions of reality, and everyone pretends the missing sections never existed. Now imagine if every communication between two people suddenly appeared in its original form, no cropping, no selective memory, no curated narrative for public consumption, and this is possible with people like me who are archivists by the nature of their work – nothing is ever deleted – everything is sav...

I have had the good fortune to be able to write and even better fortune to be read and appreciated. Writing is my art now and my profession was built on writing; several books, one more coming out soon, and nearly two hundred blog posts each of which has garnered responses that are gratifying although may not always be in agreement in what I had to say. I have enjoyed being an author and hope to continue to be one as long as I can because the author occupies a permanently inconvenient position inside human systems because authors notice sequences, authors remember life such as who used to call every night and who slowly stopped, authors remember when conversations were long and unstructured and when they became scheduled and polite, authors notice when affection turns into formality, when curiosity turns into updates, when someone who once asked questions now merely broadcasts decisions, and authors do not experience these shifts as mysterious accidents but as patterns, which immediate...

(Audio Deep Dive  English ; Audio Deep Dive  Bangla ) In the world of finance there is a phrase that sounds clinical, almost polite: toxic investment. It marks the moment an investor accepts a truth so final it leaves no room for debate. The investment is no longer underperforming. It is no longer salvageable. It is a net drain. Money has gone in, nothing will ever come out, and every additional dollar only deepens the loss. The rule is brutally simple: write it off, stop funding it, and cut all ties. No sentiment. No memory. Just arithmetic. In a car ride recently a dear friend was talking about his business and how often these toxic investments need to be jettisoned. I am not a finance person. I am not a chartered accountant. But once you understand this logic, you begin to recognize it in places where balance sheets don’t exist—especially in human relationships. I realized that Human relationships have toxic investments too and many of us are in the middle of one. Year...