The other day, I was reflecting on kindness—why it’s important to do something kind every day. Kindness is a virtue, but expecting it from others can be a slippery slope. What we often forget is that the essence of kindness lies in not expecting anything in return: no redemption, no reward, just the simple act of giving because you feel you’ve received more than your share.
The trouble arises when we’re treated poorly. We start to question whether being kind is even worth it. The truth is, you can’t expect everyone to be kind. It’s a choice we each make, and we have to live with that choice. As the saying goes, “Either you die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” The root cause of this disillusionment is often expectations. We hold people to unspoken standards—hoping they’ll behave in ways we deem ‘nice.’ But silent expectations are dangerous. If you want something, sometimes you need to say it out loud; other times, you simply need to accept people as they are.
If you can do something kind without expecting anything in return, then do it. Don’t keep score. And if you’re looking for a reward, be upfront about it. Otherwise, maybe the action isn’t worth taking. This brings me to a personal struggle: ethics. Philosophers often say ethics are boundaries created by the weak to make themselves feel better. And when I think about whether I’m a good person or not, I come to a humbling realization—I have some of the wildest thoughts. Thoughts filled with petty rage, grudges, and other emotions I’m not proud of. But the key is, I don’t act on them. I do my best to control those urges and not let them dictate my decisions.
I’ve come to see that it’s not all black and white. Life is more of a grey area. And that grey is often fueled by the volatility of my mind. Most of the time, I manage to keep things in check, though the frequency of losing control is higher than I’d like to admit. When that happens, I take a step back and reflect, and usually, I calm down—at least for a while. This cycle reminds me of when I struggled with stress-eating a year ago. I could control it for some time, but then, over the smallest trigger, I’d spiral out of control. Once I thought I’d crossed the line, I felt like I was already in the dark, so why not fully commit? But the truth is, I wasn’t in the dark—I was in the grey. There’s always a way back, always progress to be made. There are no losses, only lessons. And just like my fat-loss journey, I’d falter, then bounce back even stronger. Eventually, I got so far past the line that I could stay above it. (Though, to be honest, the journey is still ongoing.)
There are other areas of my life I know I can improve. I’ve always struggled to find a balance between what’s good for my mind and what’s good for my personal growth. I’ve swung to the extreme ends of both, and I’m sure this is something many people can relate to in some part of their lives. It’s easy to feel like you can’t come back once you’ve gone too far, but the reality is that most of our actions lie in the grey zone. And in most cases, there’s always a way out.
For me, the best way out is sleep. Sleeping solves most of my problems. When I’m weighed down by my thoughts or my conscience, a good night’s sleep brings me clarity. It’s not meditation, but it’s effective for me. And I think that’s an important lesson: if you’re having a bad day, don’t give up so soon. It’s easy to forget that most good ideas don’t come from immediate breakthroughs. They emerge after hours of trial and error, often following silly mistakes. I used to feel the need to justify my process to others—explaining that I wasn’t just slacking off—but what I’ve learned from my time at NUS is that the final ideas aren’t the time-consuming part. It’s the wrong ideas that take time. It’s figuring out why they don’t work that demands so much energy.
Speaking of fragile minds, how often do we start down one path, only to realize halfway through that we’ve been wrong the entire time? For me, this happens frequently. I’ll be convinced I’m on the right track, only to suddenly realize I’ve been lost all along. I think the root cause is my tendency to imagine how the outcome will look, getting so wrapped up in the destination that I lose sight of the actual journey. I forget to evaluate whether I’m truly heading in the right direction, and by the time I recognize the detour, it feels like I’m too far gone. But even then, there’s a lesson: it’s not about how far off track you’ve gone, but about recognizing it and adjusting course. It’s all part of the grey area—there’s always a way to correct yourself if you’re willing to stop, rethink, and move forward with fresh insight.
Signing off
Aditya Ranjan Jha