Last night I barely slept. I think I finally dozed off around 2 a.m., but instead of resting, I kept falling into the same loop: reading. Elon Musk. Starlink. The recently announced protest. One article leads to another, one opinion triggers ten more, and before you know it, it’s morning and your mind is still running.
Because the article isn't really about India, Musk, Starlink, or politics.
It's about what happens when:
outrage enters your head,
stays longer than it should,
affects your sleep,
steals your focus,
and quietly taxes your mental bandwidth.
I’m careful about where I share my opinions. There are only a few topics where I’ll openly rant, and even then, only with a small circle. For everything else, I try to do something quieter: read widely, look at different perspectives, and understand the mood of the moment. Not to “pick a side” immediately, but to figure out what people are actually reacting to—and why.
But this time, something about the whole conversation bothered me more than usual. Not because of any one person’s statement, or one billionaire’s take, or one government being named. The deeper issue is how casually it has become normal to talk down a country. To mock it. To reduce it to a punchline. To dismiss its people like they’re a problem to be managed, not lives to be understood.
And what strikes me is the selectiveness. I don’t see the same energy spent tearing down Kyrgyzstan. Or Nepal. Or Bhutan. These countries exist, they’re legitimate, and they’re doing their own work—trying to build a life for their people in their own context. America does that. India does that too. Yet when it comes to India, it suddenly becomes easy, almost fashionable, to speak with contempt.
The sad part is this: because of India’s sheer size—because of how many of us there are—it becomes easier for outsiders to find a crowd. If you want to rant about India, it doesn’t take much effort to find others who will join in. The volume becomes the story, not the truth. And that creates a kind of noise that feels less like critique and more like nuisance.
This is what worries me in a world that’s already splitting into extremes—far left, far right, and everything in between. A lot of this isn’t even real politics or serious geopolitics. It often starts as one person’s opinion. One comment. One thread. But as India becomes more visible across the world, across industries, across continents, it becomes harder for some people to digest. And then the tone shifts from curiosity to hostility.
What makes it messier is the way we throw around heavy words. “Nationalist.” “Anti-national.” These labels get used like weapons. As if supporting one idea automatically makes you blind, or opposing an idea automatically makes you disloyal. It’s lazy thinking, and it’s dangerous. Disagreement is not betrayal. Criticism is not hate. Supporting your country doesn’t mean you pretend it’s perfect. And wanting improvement doesn’t mean you want your country to fail.
Maybe this hit me harder because of where I am right now. I’m in a remote town in the Himalayan mountains, somewhere in Himachal Pradesh. Quiet place. Thin air. Slower days. And yet, thanks to 5G and everything that comes with it, I’m fully plugged into the world. I know what’s happening thousands of miles away within minutes. That’s powerful—but it also means the world can walk into your head at 2 a.m. if you let it.
I track my sleep, and the numbers don’t lie. In the last 20 days, last night was the worst. Apple Watch metrics, low rest, broken cycles. I don’t fully know why this one topic got under my skin, but it did. It’s strange how a “conversation” you’re not even part of can still steal your peace.
At the same time, I don’t think anyone can deny what’s been happening over the last decade and a half, and what’s coming next. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the era ahead will carry a strong Indian footprint. India is progressing in multiple directions—technology, infrastructure, space, startups, global diplomacy, and sheer ambition. That kind of rise will attract admiration, yes, but it will also attract discomfort.
Progress always has a price. Every country that has risen has paid something for it—socially, economically, politically. And we’re paying our price too. We have our problems, our gaps, our ugly corners, and our growing pains. But the way forward isn’t to get addicted to noise, or to spend all our energy responding to people who don’t care about understanding us in the first place.
That’s where “choosing your battles” matters. Ignoring something isn’t always silence. Sometimes it’s strategy. If a piece of outrage doesn’t add value to your life, your work, or your community, then feeding it might be the real loss. I’m not saying we shouldn’t stay informed. I’m saying we should be intentional about what we let into our minds—especially when the cost is peace, sleep, and focus.
So today, after that sleepless night, I’m taking a step back with one simple thought: a country is not a trend to be mocked. It’s people. It’s context. It’s history and future and struggle and pride all mixed together. Debate is fine. Critique is fine. But talking down an entire nation as a habit, as a nomenclature, as entertainment—that’s not intelligence. That’s just noise. And I don’t want to lose my nights to noise anymore.
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