The Sweet Spot

It has done one round around the sun and “the Sweet Spot” has survived its first year. Now that the blog has survived one year, I thought it would be interesting to invoke my natural inclination to put the results in numbers. As Kai Ryssdal , the host of the award-winning radio show Marketplace would say, “ Let’s do the numbers ”.  This is the 40th blog post on “the Sweet Spot”. Blog analysts say blogs are known to gain traction once they reach 25 posts, with an average increase in readership by 30% after that. On my blog, I started seeing an upward trend around the 18th post, and saw a 50% increase in my readership beyond that point. My data does not include the readers who have subscribed via email to read at their leisure, or readers I know have bookmarked the site url and can get to the latest post via the homepage. I attribute the higher increase in readership due to increased shares, with each “share” contributing about a 5% increase. There is a concept of compounding blog po...

Growing up under the shade of my super talented artistic brother, I had an elusive relationship with art. I was immensely proud of the cascade of applause, awards and accolades my brother received, including one from Shankar’s Weekly International straight from the hands of the Indian President himself. Not wanting to be left behind, I gave art a fair shot - but we were not meant to be! My subject would be very clear in my head, but by the time it traveled down to my hand and fingers and onto the paper, I ended up having to call it modern art and leave it to the viewer’s imagination and interpretation to figure out what I drew. I think I did end up developing a very important skill, that of an art critic. There was enough art around the house to appreciate. And it was fairly easy to look at a piece, reflect and express with honesty my true feelings for the piece. A few years ago, some artist friends formed an Art Club. Given my history with art, I avoided the messages to join. Well, wh...

I woke to the calm rhythm of the trees swaying to the summer breeze and took in one deep, refreshing breath, as the cool gentle breeze brushed past my face. As a matter of habit, and a part of a mindfulness exercise called pranayama, I took in a couple more deep breaths. This kind of breathing is normally a great start for my day. I ordinarily continue with a few more minutes of breathing, which leaves me feeling energized by the sequence of the deliberate exercises. I can focus my rested, ready mind towards the day’s events and intended tasks. But that morning my mind was restless with the thought of how a fellow human being had been deprived of the very breath that I was taking for granted as a part of my existence. The vision of the man imploring his captors, who held him in a chokehold, “I can’t breathe”! And right there, for millions to see, the very people who are meant to protect civilians, deprived him of the precious breath he needed to stay alive. I was engulfed in the ...

A few days before Mother’s Day, a friend shared an enthralling picture and some videos of New Life. First there was a fascinating picture, from a nest cam, of the deep blue eggs, in a perfectly constructed Robin’s nest in my friend’s rhododendron bush. Then the chicks hatched and came the videos from her nest cam. The cam captured all without disturbing the chicks’ feeding rituals. How the chicks opened their beaks wide and how the parents fed them perfectly! Everyday we were clamoring for more on this new life, excited that it was happening right where we lived. The best was the day before Mother’s Day, when there were some snow flurries at night and the mother Robin created a shield with her wings to protect her little ones! In these uncertain times, in the middle of the lockdown, with news about devastation and destruction coming in from everywhere, I really needed this breath of fresh air. It was a reminder of new life. Of Mother Nature continuing to do its th...