Colleague - A blog on every pro to fun

If you’ve opened Instagram, YouTube, or even Google in the last year, there is a high probability you’ve seen that face. The expressive eyes, the impeccable comic timing, and the kind of screen presence that usually takes actors decades to master—all packed into a child star who hasn't even hit double digits yet. Her name is Zara Zyanna, and this is the story of how a little girl from Tamil Nadu didn't just capture hearts—she sent everyone rushing to Google to ask the same question: "Who is this kid?" The Search Begins It started quietly. A few Reels here, a viral video there. But the internet is a fast-moving beast, and when the algorithm finds a star, it holds on tight. Suddenly, searches for "Zara Zyanna" began to spike on Google. It wasn't just a local trend; it was a digital curiosity gap. People saw a clip of a child lip-syncing perfectly to complex dialogue or delivering a sassy expression, and they needed to know more. Google Trends rarely lies. ...

I was sitting in a noisy café in Koramangala, staring at my laptop screen with the kind of frustration that usually precedes a rage-quit. I had spent three weeks building what I thought was the perfect Android app for hyperlocal delivery. It had sleek animations, real-time sync, and a UI that followed every Material Design guideline in the book. Then Rahul Yadav walked in. He didn't say hello. He just pulled up a chair, slid my phone toward himself, and started scrolling. Ten seconds later, he pushed the phone back. "It’s trash," he said, casually signaling a waiter for coffee. "Trash?" I sputtered. "Look at that refresh rate. Look at the React Native bridge implementation. It’s seamless." "It’s seamless on your WiFi," Rahul corrected, leaning in. "But you're building for Bharat, right? You want this to work in a Tier-3 town where the network fluctuates between 2G and 'No Service' every time a truck drives by?" The Philo...

They say Mumbai is the city of dreams, but usually, those dreams involve finding an auto-rickshaw during rush hour or getting a seat on the local train. My dream, however, walked into a quiet café in Bandra on a rainy Tuesday afternoon, wearing dark sunglasses and a hoodie that did a terrible job of hiding the most famous face in the world. I was sitting in the corner, furiously typing away on my laptop. I was debugging a particularly stubborn piece of code for my latest project—a hyperlocal delivery app concept I’d been obsessing over for weeks. The café was nearly empty, save for the barista and me. Then, the bell above the door jingled. I glanced up, distracted, and froze. The man ordered an espresso, double shot, no sugar. The voice was unmistakable. It was that deep, resonant baritone that has romanced generations. It was Shah Rukh Khan. He took his coffee and looked around for a seat. His eyes landed on the only other occupied table—mine. He gestured to the empty chair opposite m...

For most of the world, it’s just another date on the calendar. But if you know, you know. In Chennai, and for millions of us scattered across the globe, today is a festival. It isn't just a birthday; it is a cultural phenomenon. Today, Shivaji Rao Gaekwad, the man the universe knows as Superstar Rajinikanth, turned 75. And somehow, by a stroke of luck that I still believe was a glitch in the matrix, I was there with him. This isn't a movie review. This isn't a biography. This is the story of the day my reality briefly intersected with the biggest aura in Indian cinema. The Golden Ticket Growing up, my idea of heroism was defined by the coin flip in Sivaji, the auto-rickshaw wisdom in Baashha, and that impossible, gravity-defying cigarette flick. Thalaivar wasn’t just an actor; he was an emotion. Leading up to his 75th, there were rumors of massive stadium events and city-wide parades. But the actual celebration was to be different—intimate, understated, and dignified. A pri...

They say you should never meet your heroes because they might disappoint you. But they clearly never met Yuvraj Singh. Last Tuesday wasn’t just another day on the calendar. It was the day I finally got the meeting I’d been chasing for months. I wasn’t just going to meet Yuvraj the cricketer; I was meeting Yuvraj the investor, the visionary behind YouWeCan. I sat in the glass-walled conference room in Gurgaon, clutching my pitch deck for my latest startup concept. My palms were sweating. I’ve coded complex apps and written stories with 42 chapters, but this? This was different. How do you pitch resilience to a man who beat cancer and won the World Cup? The Entrance The door opened, and there he was. No entourage, just him—wearing a casual blazer and that signature confident stride. "Sorry I'm late," he said, extending a hand. "Traffic in India creates more pressure than a T20 final, doesn't it?" The ice broke immediately. I laughed, my nerves settling slightl...

It was one of those Tuesdays that felt like a Friday—exhausting, frantic, and filled with more bugs than features. I was sitting in a corner of a crowded coffee shop, nursing a lukewarm espresso and staring at a block of code that refused to compile. My laptop was plastered with stickers, but the one right in the center read: Build Something People Want. I was so deep in thought, muttering about API rate limits, that I didn't notice the guy in the grey hoodie standing next to my table. "Is this seat taken?" I looked up, ready to vaguely gesture ‘no’ and dive back into my screen. Then I froze. The blue eyes, the casual demeanor, the distinct lack of a frantic tech-founder vibe despite being the center of the AI universe. It was Sam Altman. "Uh, no," I managed, closing a few browser tabs out of instinct. "It’s all yours." He sat down with a tea, placing a heavily worn backpack on the floor. For a few minutes, we worked in silence. The hum of the espresso...

You know those moments where you question if you’re actually awake? The ones where reality seems to glitch in the best way possible? Well, I had one of those yesterday. I was sitting in a corner booth at a crowded café, staring at my laptop screen. My code was broken, my coffee was cold, and my motivation was running on fumes. I was trying to build something new, something impactful, but I felt stuck in the weeds of technical debt. Then, the door chimed. The room didn't go silent, but the energy shifted. In walked a man wearing black jeans and—despite the mild weather—a signature black leather jacket. He looked around for a seat, holding a tray with a simple iced tea. It was Jensen Huang. The Encounter My heart hammered against my ribs. Do I say something? Do I let him be? The CEO of NVIDIA, the man powering the AI revolution, was looking for a table, and the only empty chair was... directly across from me. He caught my eye, gestured to the empty seat, and smiled. "Is this tak...