The Somebody, Nobody, Anybody and Everybody Blog!

Memory, the cornerstone of our personal narratives, the tapestry woven from our experiences, seems inherently trustworthy. We cling to our recollections, using them to define ourselves and navigate the world. But what if this foundation, seemingly solid, is riddled with cracks? What if our memories, instead of being perfect recordings, are susceptible to distortion, embellishment, even outright fabrication?

We all know about sleep debt, that lingering feeling of exhaustion we drag around after nights of tossing and turning. But what about sleep credit? Can we actually store up on extra sleep, like banking hours in a sleep account? The concept of sleep credit is relatively new, but it's an interesting way to think about our sleep health. While there's no one-size-fits-all answer to how much sleep we need, most adults aim for around 7-8 hours per night. But what happens when we consistently clock more than that?

Fear whispers, its voice as thin and sharp as wind through a broken window. 'Did you miss the starting gun?' it hisses, 'Are you stuck at the back of the pack, sacrificing your own joy for a future that might never come?' And yes, there's truth in that whisper. We sacrifice sleep for school fees, weekends for extra shifts, all to build a nest for fledglings who might one day fly far beyond its reach.

In the age of Digital India and Accessible India, championed by our Prime Minister himself, a stark reality persists: thousands of Indian citizens with disabilities are shut out of essential government services due to inaccessible websites.

At 17, Deon van Danville boarded the express train of adulthood, his heart humming with the rhythm of the steel tracks. The South African Railways and Harbours became his launchpad, propelling him into the world of technical mastery. College diplomas stacked like train cars until, in 1975, fate threw a cruel switch – legal blindness. Deon, however, refused to derail. He navigated the Personnel Office with newfound grit, his resilience echoing in the tap-tap of typewriters.