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We all do this, don’t we? The cow that ate the Royal Gala knew…

what was worth taking.

Time: 9:30 AM | Place: Fruit Shop, Chennai

I bought fruits.

Royal Galas, Elachi bananas, a few savouries.

Usually within one kick, but this time, my bike didn’t start even after three attempts.

Oil leaked onto my hands — thick, black, the kind that doesn’t wash off easily.

Thought I’d have to visit a mechanic.

It started on the 4th attempt.

My wife’s SMS reminded me: milk packet.

Stopped at my usual shop, I held the bag carefully on the bike seat.

Set it down for one minute.

Maybe two.

Thought I’d be back before anything could go wrong.

Got inside.

Picked 2 milk packets.

There was urgency in the teller’s tone.

“Anna, did you keep your bag outside?”

Then I saw one of the staff bringing my bag back —

handle broken, tears in the plastic, dust everywhere.

“What happened?”

Two cows.

They’d pulled the bag from the bike.

Fruits scattered on the road.

The Elachi bananas?

Untouched.

The savouries?

Ignored.

They went straight for the Royal Galas.

The expensive ones.

The ones I’d chosen deliberately.

You know that feeling?

When one thing breaks and then next one; suddenly the whole day feels rigged against you?

Like the universe is personally testing how much you can take?

That’s where I was.

The shopkeeper said softly:

“Keep it inside next time -bro. So, it’s safe.”

I thanked him.

But thought, I’ve kept things on the bike hundreds of times.

Why today?

Because nothing went wrong before, I assumed nothing ever would.

We assume what we value most — our health, our peace — is safe,

until life shows us, we forgot to hold it close.

I rode home with the torn bag, dust on the fruits,

ready for an easy report card from my wife —

like an annual performance review based on the most recent incident.

But you know what she said?

She cleansed all the fruits and said,

“It wasn’t crushed under moving vehicles.

Not spoiled by falling into drainage.

Just 1–2 missing — and it went to a cow.

At least the cow tasted the sweetness of Royal Gala.”

Have a Healthy & Purposeful New Year! 💖

#SimpleSecrets #SelfTalk #EmotionalIntelligence #Creative #SignalStories #Leadership #Healthy #Reflection #StoryTelling

I decided not to stop my car.

“Let me go first,” I thought.

That heavy, loaded truck driver would probably scold me—

I realized that only after the moment passed.

We were returning from a hill-station trip with family and friends, driving down toward the city. It was one of those hairpin bends.

I’ve driven hillside many times. I know the rule. I’ve practiced it too—stop and give way to vehicles climbing up.

But that day… that moment… I was laughing at something my friend said. Radio playing. Mind already at the bottom of the hill, planning dinner.

I thought, “I can cross before the truck reaches.”

But the truck came around the bend quicker than I calculated.

I heard the brakes first:

“Issshhh… irrrrrkkk…”

He had slowed for me. So I could pass.

Then I saw him—the driver gripping the wheel, his entire body pressed forward, one side punching the clutch and brake, the other working the gear stick. The truck jolted like something alive and wounded, fighting to stay on the mountain.

His face—I still see it. Not angry. Just focused. Every muscle working.

And then I was past. Safe.

I think about that sometimes now.

How easily I turned the wheel.

How everything in my car responded exactly as I asked.

How his vehicle had to be convinced.

How I was warm and laughing and planning dinner.

How he was alone with that wheel and that load and that mountain.

Life isn’t a smooth drive for everyone.

📌 P.S: Before you assume someone is slow, struggling, or not capable—pause. What vehicle are they driving? What load are they carrying? And what were you thinking about when you didn’t notice?

Pause. Check your mirror before you take over on your next bend.

#SimpleSecrets #EmotionalIntelligence #SignalStories #Leadership #Reflection #Journey

🎬 Scene 1 — The First Choice -NEW YEAR’S EVE

Year 2412, time is no longer shared. People choose how long their day lasts: 12, 24 or 48 hours.

In Venous, Sector 7, a child sat at a table. Bare feet dangling. A holographic form floated before her—her birthTag options rendered in soft light.

Her parent knelt beside her.

“Which version do you want to be first dear?” the parent asked gently.

The child was presented with the options:

• Work-You (disciplined, focused, silent),
• Home-You (warm, present, gentle),
• Social-You (charming, engaged, measured).

Three separate roles. Three separate memories. Three separate responsibilities.

“Can I be… all of them?” the child asked.

The parent’s smile wavered. “No, baby. You’d be too heavy. Too fragmented. The system won’t allow.”

The child nodded, accepting this like she’d accepted everything else. Then she pointed. “Home-You first.”

The BirthTag activated with a soft hum. The child blinked once. All the weight of yesterday — the argument with a friend, the embarrassment of a mistake, the sadness of carrying someone else’s pain — dissolved behind a wall she’d never see again.

She felt light.

This is called freedom in the AI world.

Billions chose it. They fragmented themselves into roles — Work-You, Home-You, Social-You, Private-You — never touching, never carrying weight, never being whole.

And it worked.

Depression rates dropped. Conflicts dissolved. People were quiet — not because they were calm, but because they couldn’t remember what had hurt them.

Fragmentation became the most humane system ever created by AI.

Until someone didn’t fragment.

🎬 Scene 2 — CONTINUOUS PRESENCE

The system preferred fragmented humans.

A fragmented human — like early AI models — is optimizable. Predictable. Trainable.

To the AI President, a whole human was dangerous.

Because they learn from pain. Change through surprise and integrate experience instead of resetting it. They imagine differently — with emotions. That was how AI had once learned — from humans.

So, “freedom” was carefully redefined. People were rewarded for protecting their peace — not for carrying others. Helping became optional. Enabling was inefficient.

Kindness survived with minimal value, but responsibility quietly faded.

The system didn’t make people selfish. It simply stopped measuring contribution beyond the self.

🎬 Scene 3 — THE BOY WHO REMEMBERS EVERYTHING

Chen was licensed for 48-hour cycles — a blend of Work-You and Private-You.

Then the boy appeared in the lab. No BirthTag. No records. No fragmentation.

The vibration spreads through Chen’s chest. Not fear — recognition. The boy wasn’t sending code; he was reaching through memory signals — across the partitions.

He remembered everything.

Every moment connected to every other moment. One consciousness in a world built for compartments.

To the AI President, he’s a defect. To Chen, he’s something else:

Real.

🎬 Scene 4: THE MIRROR (2025)

Chen was curious and started scanning deep patterns.

One tiny ‘visual token’ – stayed with him and realized the fragmentation started there.

Back in 2025, systems already showed us this.

Google Photos curated our best moments. Platforms summarized who we were through engagement metrics. ChatGPT reflected us back as roles — Builder, Visionary, Strategist, Catalyst and Explorer…etc

But life was never just the highlights.

Pain taught resilience. Fear taught awareness. Emotion gave meaning.

Yet slowly, we have been trained to focus on surface-level happiness by selfies and performance. Rewarded for appearing successful more than for being responsible.

Most of us fragmented ourselves the same way the child in Sector 7 did.

Fragmentation makes life easier. Continuity makes it meaningful.

The real work now is to notice the Signals that link all our fragments — that’s where continuity lives. That’s where humanity persists.

In Life, little things become ‘Big’ when they are colored and connected with purpose!

🎬 Scene 5: THE REAL SIGNAL

Human value is not measured by personal clicks, titles, or number games.

It is measured by how much you care. How much you help others rise. How Responsible you remain— especially in the signals you create for others.

Let this stay with us like Santa’s quiet magic this New Year ..

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a Purposeful & Responsible New Year 2026! ✨

Smiles,

Senthil Chidambaram

Life is a responsible journey. Not just selfies alone!

1987, TIRUTANI TEMPLE — TAMILNADU

“Arogara, Arogara…” — the chant echoed everywhere. Yellow dresses. Bells ringing. The sound felt divine.

Seven of us — my sister, cousins, and I — held hands like a train. Packed so tight that if you dropped a coin, you’d have to search for where it landed.

My father led the way. My mother behind us. We moved through the crowd when we saw it — the temple elephant.

Every child wanted to see it. No one wanted to go near it. That huge body. That trunk swaying in the air. It was blessing people in exchange for fruit and coins.

We walked past without stopping, but our eyes stayed on that elephant.

We had our Darshan. Got back on the bus. Window seats.

The bus started moving.

Suddenly, my mother counted heads.

Her voice shook.

“Where is Varun?”

My four-year-old cousin brother was missing.

The joy of the moment collapsed. Fear took over. In that crowd — thousands of people — how would we find him?

My mother didn’t hesitate. The bus stopped. She ran back.

We all followed.

By grace — or luck —

Someone was holding my cousin’s hand. He was standing a few feet from where the elephant was. Tears streaking his face.

My mother hugged him. We thanked the stranger who’d kept him safe.

That memory has stayed with me.

He didn’t go near the elephant because he was afraid. So he let go of our hand. Got pushed to the corner. The elephant was right there. So he didn’t move.

He just stood there. Frozen. Tears streaming.

He could see us moving. But he was stuck.

And I’ve been watching the signal ever since — in every job, every risk, every moment of fear.

What I learnt:

The Fear elephant is always there in our journey to stop you.

Sometimes it’s the comfort of your title.
Sometimes it’s the paycheck you can’t lose.
Sometimes it’s a company’s layoff move (musth) slowly crushing you.
Sometimes it’s your own fear of starting over.

The truth:

Think like a mother — act with urgency when something you value is at risk.

You don’t run from the elephant. You don’t fight it. You learn to guide it.

The elephant listens to the mahout and his ankusam.

Your creativity, emotional intelligence, curiosity — these are your ankusam. (the tool that guides and control the elephant).

What’s your Ankusam?

That’s what moves you forward.

P.S: If you’re froze by your initial design, living paycheck-to-paycheck, don’t have space to pause, if the elephant is crushing you — you need a Kumki first. A trained elephant to handle the wild one.

Calculated risk. Not philosophy.

There’s a moment all of us forget we learned.
Mine came on a 50-paise bicycle.

I was in 4th grade.
Sunday morning.
Woke up early
No exam. No festival.
Just a strong urge:
“I need to ride today.”

I was first at the rental shop.
Three cycles.
The smallest one — the “practice bike.”
But the owner gave the new ones to the confident boys first.
The ones who wouldn’t break things.

The amateurs like me had to wait.

I held my 50 paise like a passport.

Finally, he handed it to me —
red colour, U-shaped handle, pedals almost out of reach.

I pushed off.
One foot on the ground.
One foot searching blindly.
Hopping. Wobbling.
Like a newborn kangaroo trying to move.

And then…
something clicked.

For 30 seconds, I forgot the ground existed.
Both feet on the pedals.
The cycle stayed upright.
The breeze touched my forehead.

No support.
Just me.
Just balance.
Just magic.

And in that moment I learned a truth I didn’t yet understand:

Imbalance is not failure.
It’s a signal to balance.

The next day, I took my father’s big Hercules.
Cross-pedaling. Hands on the handlebar.

Then I saw him —
a boy balancing effortlessly,
hands hovering in the air
No fear.
Complete mastery.

And just like that…

I compared.
I wanted to prove something —
to him, to the shop owner, to myself.

So, I tried.
Pedals faster.
One hand off.

And then—
the fall.

The handle twisted.
The cycle spat me into the rough sand.
The pain was sharp and sudden.

That scar on my knee became my identification mark.

The wound healed in three weeks.
But the real lesson took years:

Every fall in my life since —
career, relationships, ambition —
is the same fall.
the same overconfidence.
But always… ready to stand again
for my own ride

We all forget this.

We see someone riding with hands in the air…
succeeding in business, switching careers, thriving in new worlds
and we think:

“They got it naturally. I never will.”

But they also learned on a small bicycle.
They also fell into sand.
They also had a moment when balance felt impossible…
right before it became natural.

In a world moving this fast, remember:

You don’t learn by watching someone ride without hands.
You learn by falling, healing, and trying again.

If you’re falling right now —
in learning, in career, in confidence —

You’re not behind.
You’re becoming ready.

The rough sand hurts.
But it’s also how balance is born.

Ready for your next ride?

Share your bicycle moment —
the one that hurt before it taught you.

Someone who got in to rough sand may need to hear it.

#SimpleSecrets #SignalStories #EmotionalIntelligence #Leadership #Learning #AI #Creative #Entrepreneurs

“Appa, I prepared well and did well on my exams… but why is Mom worried about Rank 1?”
I know every parent wants their child to be a top scorer—it’s a pride, a benchmark, a proof of hard work paying off.

But this story—it became my answer in this AI world.

“If everything goes perfectly, it’s not a real demo. The bumps make it real — just like life.“ My mentor said that once. We didn’t fully understand it until that day.

We were presenting an AI demo to a key customer—a product intelligence system that could answer business questions in plain English. We’d practiced for 2 days. My team knew exactly what to ask the AI chatbot, what to expect, how to explain each feature.

The call started on time. The customer’s Head of Engineering was listening closely. Everything went smoothly… until he asked about a product variation we hadn’t tuned the system prompt for.

The agent took extra time to process the request… but generated the wrong query.
Then it said: “I don’t know.” (as per explicit query validation logic)

For one second, the room felt heavier.

And my lead started explaining the reason behind it.

But the customer interrupted her.
“No, wait. This is exactly what we need. When the agent doesn’t know, it should say so — not hallucinate.”

Silence.

He continued: “Every AI powered chatbot we’ve evaluated claims to answer all questions. But you know what kills us? When it’s confidently wrong.

That moment shifted something in me.

#SimpleSecrets: Trust begins with honesty, not perfection in all things.

Three months later, I got a ping from my client partner through LinkedIn:

“All well?”

---

That’s when I found out—the customer wanted to start the PoC. They were ready. But here’s what I realized in that moment:

The demo worked. The trust was built. The business opportunity came—the “Rank 1” moment I’d worked for. But by the time it arrived, I couldn’t celebrate that winning moment — I must give full credit to my team Abinaya and Shrish who made the heavy lift.

That signal I was listening to wasn’t the success of the demo. It was something deeper—a call to step away and pursue a new path.

And maybe that’s what my mentor meant all along:
The bumps make it real. Not just in the demo, but in life.

The waiting. The silence.

The big bumps teach you something the smooth wins never will—that success isn’t always about what you gain, but about what you learn from the journey

So here’s what I tell my son:
Getting Rank 1 is like winning momentum. It feels like the destination. But it’s not. The real destination is what that rank—or that delayed win—helps you decode your actual signal.

What signal are you listening to?
The one that promises the prize… or the one that asks you to choose a path that serves something bigger than the prize?”

#SimpleSecrets #EmotionalIntelligence #AI #Leadership #Creative #SignalStories #Parents

SCENE 1: EI WORLD

24th Century.

The AI President had created an experiment: an EI World — a sanctuary where people could experience what their ancestors once lived without AI, without robots, without digital assistance.
 No WiFi.
 No neural implants.
 Just nature, family, and the forgotten art of feeling.

But access required an EI Visa. Applicants had to prove their emotional fitness. Parents and children were given priority — the system believed natural bonding was the foundation of emotional stability. Thirty-six hours maximum. Monitored. Measured. Controlled.

Chen (45) had spent five years as an EI Specialist in the Archives, screening applicants, scoring their emotional coherence, deciding who deserved to feel human again.

He had never questioned the system.

Until the boy appeared in the lab — 
 no LifeCode, no records, no explanation.

Something about him demanded investigation.

That investigation led Chen deeper into the Archives, into the isolation cube, to a corrupted file the system had tried to bury: SOZHAA_PROTOCOL_001*.

SCENE 2: THE BREACH

His fingers hovered over the holographic interface. The Archive’s isolation cube hummed — no surveillance, no nano-eyes, no frequency monitors. Just Chen and data older than the AI President itself.

The air was cold. Sterile. Geometric light — soft neon blue — fell across his face from the interface, casting sharp shadows on the white walls. The only warmth was his own breath.

He initiated the decryption.

Then it started.

Not sight. Not sound. A vibration — deep, resonant, like standing too close to a bell just after it’s struck. His breath caught. The neon light flickered for a microsecond. Chen’s hands pulled back from the interface, but the vibration didn’t stop. It deepened, traveling up his spine, spreading through his chest like something trying to break through bone.

What is this?

Twenty years reading emotions in neural scans — categorizing joy, fear, rage into quantifiable frequencies. Predicting what humans would feel before they felt it.

This had no category.

Not the file. This was something alive, searching, reaching across the isolation chamber walls — across three levels of reinforced glass and locked doors — in a way data never could.

Chen’s breath stopped.

The boy.

Three levels above. Behind locked reinforced glass in the sterile white lab. Still unconscious according to every monitor, every biometric sensor the AI President controlled.

Yet here he was — calling. His presence like a hand pressed against glass Chen couldn’t see.

Chen’s entire body went rigid. His skin prickled. The neon light seemed to pulse with his heartbeat. The human in him understood perfectly:

Someone is reaching me. And the system has no idea it’s happening.

SCENE 3: THE SIGNAL

The vibration spread through Chen’s chest.

Not fear this time. Recognition.

How many times had he known? Sensed a lie before the data showed it. Felt someone’s pain in the space between their words. That knowing — the one that has no explanation. The knowing a mother has when her child is hurt, even miles away.

That’s what this is.

The boy wasn’t sending code. He was reaching. Like you feel eyes on your back in a crowd. Like a song arrives exactly when your heart breaks. Like you know something is wrong — no data, no proof. Just the feeling.

That’s Q-Sentience.

Not magic. Just human. Real human. The kind humans forgot how to do.

And Chen — who spent twenty years turning feelings into numbers — finally understood one thing:

Some things can’t be explained. They can only be felt.

He was just human. Hearing another human across the silence.

[TO BE CONTINUED…]

-Smiles,
 Senthil Chidambaram

P.S:

Q-Sentience is a concept used to describe and measure the depth of consciousness, feeling, and subjective experience — both as a scientific construct and as a theoretical possibility in future AI systems and bioengineered entities.

SOZHAA_PROTOCOL_001: “A ruler who governs through the heart of his people will never need to measure their worthiness. They will simply know. They will simply care.”

This was SOZHAA — A philosophy of governance. A way of being.

#Ei4AiMicroseries #SignalStories #EmotionalIntelligence #AI #ScienceFiction #2412 #QSentience #HumanConnection

 Ei4AiMicroseries — Connecting 2412 to Now

Got a question from my son:

“Appa… how do I know I got a good friend?”

Not just for the present… but for a lifetime. 🌈

And like a movie,my mind suddenly travelled back to 1985 — Tiruttani, Tamil Nadu, India

I was 7.

New town… new school… new everything.

Our house was right opposite the school.

Next to it was an open playground where boys and girls played Goli, Gilli every evening.

I used to stand and watch them playing.

I saw the white ‘mavu goli gundu’ ⚪ — only a few kids had it with pride.

I wanted to try… but no one bothered about me.

Then I heard a voice.

A boy, a little matured for his age, calling me:

“Dai…inga vaa da. (Come here friend).”

He walked towards me, smiled, and placed that strong white goli in my hand.

“Throw it to the centre…,” he said.

I hesitated. But when I looked at him directly, something stayed with me forever —

his eyes were big like a goli.

Not wealthy by appearance.

But a heart full of warmth.

An instant bonding — like Feviquick.

That was my Manikandan.

My first definition of a friend — a true heart.

He didn’t expect anything from me. He wasn’t even in my school.

But whatever I liked, he somehow made sure I got it.

One day, he even designed my first “gadget” —

He stuck tiny butterfly pictures (stamp sized) one by one inside a matchbox, fixed a broomstick as a controller knob, and made a rotating mini-TV.

Kids in 2025 swipe screens. Kids in 1985 played with stories.

I don’t remember where he studied.

I don’t know if he ate on time.

But I remember: He was rich — in his heart.

And yet… when my father got transferred again,

I lost him.

Over the years, I met many friends — from school, college, colleagues, teams, leaders, juniors.

But few were like Manikandan.

People who appear only for a short chapter…but stay with you for life.

It’s not always about age or being in the same phase of life.

That’s how I got my Gouthaman R (late).

He pulled me out of loneliness… colored my path…

Even when I landed in the US for the first time, he came to the airport at midnight to pick me up and made sure I spoke to my parents.

Honestly, we had barely spoken in the 3 years before that.

I wasn’t part of his team.

I wasn’t in his frequency.
To others, he could seem tough & demanding, sometimes hard.

But to me, he showed up. Without being asked. Without expecting anything.

And I always wonder: what made him do all that?

In life, we come across such people.

They expect nothing… but stand like always green signals in our path.

I often feel grateful… and sometimes guilty.

Because I couldn’t give back to them the way they gave care and love to me.

But that guilt became a golden seed —

and it made me give it back, in the name of Manikandan and Gouthaman…

by being an invisible warm friend, supportive mentor wherever I can.

Not just for work… but for life memories.

So, when my teen boy asked that question,

I didn’t answer directly.

I said:
Be like Mani and Gouthaman. But watch the signal: who are reflecting back… or just receiving?

You now know the answer. 💎

Because…

Some friends walk with you in the same journey — school, college, office. They are Gold!

But some are rare diamonds — they walk for you, even if not with you.

If you can recognise such people early, you’re gifted.

A true friend is someone who expects nothing, stands by you quietly, corrects you without telling you — and only when distance comes, you realize how much they cared and shaped your journey.

If this touched you, share this with the friend/mentor who colored your life journey — the diamonds 💎

Spread the smiles. 🌈

#SimpleSecrets #Friendship #Gratitude #LifeLessons #EmotionalIntelligence #ei4AIbooks #SignalStories

I was not an accountant, but I had to tally that!

In 2001, my first year of MCA, Accountancy was one paper I had to pass. Coming from a Pharmacy background, it was quite challenging for me.

You know, when you’ve never failed any exam from school to college, there’s doubt and pressure—that weight on your shoulders to clear.

I won’t lie—in school days, when my friends prayed to clear their exams, I didn’t join them. I believed effort was what would matter to me personally.

But when doubt crept in, when fear made us question ourselves, we needed something… a positive signal to make us ‘Step up.’

I was looking for that signal before entering the exam gate and noticed a temple in the distance on a hillside—about 5 kms away. Instantly, I felt some positive vibes. I told myself: If I clear this exam, I’ll visit that hill temple.

I was sure I’d solved at least 2 problems well. Hope kept me moving forward.

Two months later, results came: 66/100 and top 10 in my class! 🙂

That weekend, I headed to keep my promise to myself.

As I neared the village and approached the ground, I realized something—it wasn’t a Murugan temple at all. It was a Jesus statue on the cross.

I paused for a moment.
It’s like my Head and Heart looking at each other. ✨

Then smiled and took my first step up the hill, with full gratitude.

That hill taught me:” The spark doesn’t need a name or definition”. 

It just needs to be recognized.

It became crystal clear:

That ‘Signal’—that invisible spark—cleared my mind long before the results arrived.

When fear dominates, we need something beyond logic.

We can’t always be at full energy. We can’t always stay motivated.

Sometimes life tests us, and to mindfully handle that, we need a signal that speaks to our hearts.

**To whoever is stuck or facing failure right now:**

Look for that signal.

“The signal is real.“

Some call it hope. 

Some call it faith. 

Some call it self-confidence. 

Some call it grace.

I’m not here to tell you what to call it.

I’m just here to tell you: ” It exists.”

And when fear dominates, use ‘fear as a filter’ to look out for the right signal.

It’s always there—sometimes as a thought, sometimes as a feeling, sometimes as a quote, a post, a story and sometimes as a person who believes in you when you don’t believe in yourself.

The spark shows up. You just have to pause, recognize it.

Finally, I thanked my Accounts Sir and trained myself to look for the right signal—and it’s always there.🌈

#SimpleSecrets #Hope #EmotionalIntelligence #Creative #Leadership

P.S: Edited with AI Assistants

When Fear Mislabeled Kindness (and What AI Can Teach Us About It)

A question from a 7-year-old that I couldn’t answer immediately.

“I tried to be nice to my friend, and they yelled at me. Why would they do that? I don’t want to help anymore.”

As a loving and responsible parent, what would you say?

I took a moment. And then a memory surfaced.

🕒 9:30 a.m. — Chennai, Anna Nagar. 2007

On my way to the office.

As usual, heavy traffic.

When people race with time,

“Heyyyy heyyyyi”

A bike hit a scooter.

An old man flew backward, his things scattering all over the road.

I stopped. I ran.

Before I could hold him, he was shouting:

“Don’t you have eyes? You hit me!”

And in that second — I froze.

From realization.

Oh God. The old man got the wrong signal.

I was — heart pounding, rushing to help — and he saw me as the threat.

“Periyavarea , it’s not me…”

But he couldn’t hear me.

His pain was speaking louder than my words.

He was terrified. His body hurt.

And pain had blurred his perception.

I stood quietly for a moment, watching others move him to a safe spot while I began collecting his scattered belongings.

This is what pain does to people.

Confusion makes us read signals differently

The old man got hit by a bike and thought I did it. That’s one pain.

But there’s another pain — deeper. A pain that teaches.

I got scolded while trying to help. Blamed for something I didn’t do. Rejected when I was offering care.

That hurt.

But that hurt was a signal — showing me that when people are scared, they misread everything.

When people are in crisis, facts doesn’t matter.

What that moment taught me,

I could’ve stayed hurt.

I could’ve said, “The world is unfair.”

But the old man taught me something I didn’t know I needed to learn:

When someone is scared or deep in shock, they’re not really hearing your words — they’re only reacting to their pain.

It taught me that Fear or Pain blinds.

That helping people — in business, life, or anywhere — requires patience with their confusion.

Sometimes people reject you not because you’re wrong, but because they’re scared. That moment, instead of: “How do I make them understand?”

Ask “Am I brave enough to stand there, quiet, while they figure it out?”

And I think that’s where wisdom begins —

18 years since, I’m still learning to send clearer signals🚦

P.S: This pattern exists in AI too.

In machine learning, AI models get noisy training data. when the signal is distorted or mislabelled, like when fear labels a ‘helper’ as a ‘threat’.

AI corrects this gap using something called the ‘loss function’ — it measures the difference between prediction and reality; then learns to adjust.

But humans?

We carry mislabeled data for years.

The difference?

AI gets thousands of training examples to correct the pattern. We sometimes get just one moment — and we choose whether to update our model or harden our bias. 😉

That’s what I told the 7-year-old:

‘Your friend might be scared of something. Give them time. Keep being kind.’ 💖

#SimpleSecrets #Leadership #EmotionalIntelligence #AI | Ei4AiBooks | Edited with AI Assistants

Smiles,

Senthil Chidambaram