Better instead to head up the bay to the queen city of San Francisco, which has way more on offer. A new solution to homelessness in the age of AI, anyone? Twinkling lights on the Bay Bridge that you realize are cars trying to pass through the gridlock, paying tolls to Newsom's bottomless coffers automatically without question. Or the sleepy Golden Gate Bridge that is most of the time covered with Karl the Fog. The best is skating on the makeshift Safeway rink on Union Square which has a skating area where hoardes of humans circle the ring as many times as they can within the hour, there is a viewing area where helicopter parents keep watch, eager tourists who missed reserving the tickets look on as if they are peering into an exhibit of chimps putting on a magical show. It is all here in San Fran.

Getting more serious, we headed up there to spend Christmas Eve braving deadly winds, fierce rain, and some disastrous food at an Indo Chinese restaurant for the joy of tasting 1/3rds scoop of an exquisite Ghiradelli sea-salt delicacy called Ocean Beach. Ah... that was all worth it. Seriously, not being sarcastic. Then a stroll down the rainy San Francisco Embarcadero with views of the Alcatraz at night, its lighthouse beams being scattered by the rain. Then a no Santa, crowd-shared christmas tree in Union square, enroute to which we came marching through the watchful eyes and trained guns of SFPD, dodging threats by the parking guy that he'd shut us out of our car by sharply 3 minutes BC (before christmas) was born.

White Christmas, cuddled under the blanket, trying to sleep off early to be able to get your hands on the wrapped presents sounds like a perfect cup of mashmallow doused in chocolate milk when you are a kid, when you grow up, the tastes do change quite a bit, whether due to diabetes or just refined taste over the years of classy experiences down several cafes.

This was all in all, a very memorable Christmas, even if not the most immaculately planned.

This space I will use in the next few months to ponder a bunch of topics ranging from AI, business, economy to personal and deep thoughts.

2026 promises to be a year of new beginnings. I will find mine and how I play.

Thanks for following along!

I have lived, studied or worked across 3 continents, 8 or 9 cities and yet it is Mumbai, my love, my mom and my life that I can’t be within, but hope I can keep coming to…

Mumbai meri Jaan is not an accident or gimmick, it is real.

In the kaleidoscope of chaos that is 2025’s meme culture, one name has stomped through the forest of our collective consciousness and exploded onto everyone’s For You Page with a trunk full of weirdness: Cocofanto Elephanto.

Born deep within the wildest corners of the Italian Brain Rot multiverse, Cocofanto Elephanto is not just a character—he’s an experience. With coconut-shell armor, bubble-wrap feet, and a trumpet trunk that screams Italian-sounding gibberish, he’s become one of the most remixable, iconic, and delightfully ridiculous meme characters of the year.

🐘 Who (or What) Is Cocofanto Elephanto?

Cocofanto Elephanto is a coconut-fused elephant with oversized ears, googly eyes, and the energy of an espresso-fueled thunderstorm. Clad in armor made of cracked coconuts and always surfing the fine line between genius and gibberish, Cocofanto first made his debut in spring 2025 on TikTok in a video titled “Cocofanto Elephanto vs. Tralalero Tralala in the Battaglia di Dondolo.”

Generators screamed. Forests exploded. Voiceovers declared war. And just like that, a star was born.

🎙 Signature Sounds & Phrases

Like every brain rot character worth their salt (or slim), Cocofanto Elephanto speaks in a yogurt-thick pseudo-Italian accent, with lines such as:

• “Cocofanto Elephanto! Il tamburo è pieno di spaghetti!”(“Cocofanto Elephanto! The drum is full of spaghetti!”)

• “Pomodoro potenza! Troncamento fulmicotone!”(“Tomato power! Cotton-thunder truncation!”)

His voice? A deep, distorted AI-generated echo with trumpet-like backfiring noises for punctuation. He doesn’t talk—he declares, often accompanied by flaming text, spinning graphics, and dancing ostriches.

🌀 Personality Profile

Cocofanto Elephanto might look like a war-hardened coconut-elephant hybrid, but emotionally? He’s pure Italian soap opera. He's dramatic, ultra-loyal (especially to his spaghetti-powered trumpet), and sometimes breaks into opera when sad—usually about lasagna.

He’s the type of character who shows up to a duel with a spoon instead of a sword, just to prove a point. His moves are unpredictable, and his catchphrases? Nonsensical, loud, and legendary.

👥 Place in the Brain Rot Universe

Cocofanto is a recurring rival—or reluctant ally—of other major brain rot figures like:

• Tralalero Tralala (his echo-chamber nemesis)

• Brr Brr Patapim (his musical antagonist)

• Gararamaramama (rumored to be his half-cousin through a honey-syrup pact)

As the brain rot genre matured, Cocofanto became symbolic of its second wave: less glitchy static, more bombastic lore. Every appearance by Cocofanto Elephanto feels like watching a fever dream narrate an action movie—with subtitles that autocorrected themselves into oblivion.

🏆 Why Everyone Loves Him

• Visually Chaotic Appeal: He’s adorable, terrifying, and oddly majestic—sometimes all at once.

• Voiceover Gold: His TikTok chants are infinitely usable in remix culture.

• Relatable Absurdity: Cocofanto doesn’t make sense, and that’s kind of the point—he reflects the post-post-ironic core of Gen Z/Alpha humor.

• Participatory Lore: New remixes, edits, and “Cocofanto backstories” appear daily on Shorts, TikTok, and Discord communities.

✍️ Final Thoughts

Cocofanto Elephanto isn’t just a meme—he’s a movement. A coconut-armored metaphor for everything the internet has become: strange, self-aware, hilarious, and way too loud. And whether he’s battling Bombardiro Crocodilo or serenading a pumpkin with garlic bread, he remains an icon of digital absurdism.

So next time you hear a distant trumpet, followed by the sound of AI chanting nonsense Italian… just know: Cocofanto Elephanto is near.

👉 EFANTO! COCOFANTO! PASTA IN THE VENTO!

You're welcome.

Stay tuned for part 2: "Cooking with Cocofanto"—a risotto that screams back.

Sources

What makes the experience transcend your own reality is the connection with nature, whatever it might be in the native place. It could be a mountain, a river or a desert. It is part of your being. In my case, there is a mountain, the Western Ghats, a waterfall from the top of those ghats that flows as Courtrallam falls or Agastyar falls and a river, The Tamarabarani and its tributaries, including the Rama Nadi and the scent of rain hitting the village soil which makes the script come alive in 3D. Above it all, there is grace of your Kuladeivam

On our recent visit to Tirunelveli, we got to experience all of the above elements. This time the visit was with two grown kids that we could tell the stories to, could impart the devotion to, and imbibe some of the love of the land to. Whether it is the monkeys that showed affection or the local people that shared their wisdom or stories so generously, there is a part of it you hope sticks with the future generations. This is why we keep coming and connecting with our past to pave the way and bless us in our future journey.

Our elder kid is headed to college, so the occassion provided a perfect junction to take stock of the life that has been before taking on the life to be. He will be headed away from home to pursue his academic calling, will have to step up as an individual to make decisions that will shape his future. Such a shift requires the blessings and the platform laid down by our ancestors, their boons and sins that carry forward to the generations ahead.

We sought the blessings of the water by drenching ourselves in the Agastyar falls and Eintharuvi in Courtrallam. We sought the blessings of the lord, whether in Alwarkurichi, Atazhanallur or Tiruchendur. We sought the blessings of the soil by indulging in local fruits, be it the Nongu or the Lychee that grows seasonally and above all, we sought the blessings of the elements to come together to carry the child forward in a distant land.

Tirunelveli had everything to offer and notably the travel to and from it was made so comfortable by the Vande Bharat and superfast express trains that cut travel time to less than half of what it used to take back in the 2000s. We arrived refreshed and ready to soak it all in, literally, at the Agastyar falls. It was such a rejuvinating experience with the private version of the more commercial Courtrallam where we bathed in the waterfalls with random strangers, singing Tamil classics from movies in the 90s. A complete freak event if this were in the West near Angel Falls or Niagara falls. Yet, it was a letting go event in the depth of Tamilnadu. This was preceeded by a glass of Nongu Juice, which took some serious skill in peeling the fruit and juicing it. Maybe that’s what let us loose.

Darshans at the Kula deivam are a very formal affair that takes a lot of planning and reverence. The rituals are usually very elaborate and since we don’t come quite often, they tend to be even more amplified. However, it was a mixed bag this time, at one of our kuladeivam temples, it was plain punctuated and seemed very commercial and at the other, it was elaborate but marred by poor people asking for alms or food. The spiritual feel was lower than a decade and much much lower than 2 or 3 decades ago. The upkeep of the temples and the assistance to the priests deterriorated but the sanctum was glorious as always. Made us wonder how this can be remedied and restored to old glory experienced by our ancestors and whether bhakti in subsequent generations will persist to allow the temples to exist and thrive.

After the darshans, we ended the day with a sumptous Tirunelveli dinner before heading to our modern hotel in the outskirts of town before commencing the next set of activities. What a start to the journey that had a bit of everything. Perhaps no better picture summarized it than a family of monkeys near Agastyar falls where the mom was feeding a newborn baby and the dad kept watch, removed bugs from the mom’s head and affectionately stroked the baby. This is what the native place does to you, it watches over you whereever you are, it strokes you affectionately and nurtures you like the mother does to her baby.

Hope our kids have taken something from the Native place to come back and bring their kids to tell these stories. Hopefully this Mirror is a place for them to come back to, to get a recap of why the native place matters!

This time though, it was not planned, not foreseen but we made a start and kept going at it. Today was day 3. Now that there is a streak, let us see how far this can go. What’s going to be tough is to keep the pressure off maintaining the streak and keeping it going in a natural flow. If the flow leads to further streaks, so be it. Of course, there is a maximum possible streak given the constraints of our visit which will be broken by excursions from Chennai. That can not be helped as the trip needs to be more than Chennai or Jeeva Park, but let us see how close to the max it can get. We have another 7 days here, so a 100% would be 10 days and then if we choose to count it as a streak of unbroken days in Chennai, that could last us longer during a month long visit.

Now, focusing inwards on the run and walk themselves. There are a few interesting observations. First, the people here are so active in the morning. Next is that they really utilize the space rather well. Third, they have a bunch of body weight gym exercises in the park. Fourth, they have a community here, with some regulars. Fifth, there are some resident cats, one of which is an alpha that has ‘made it’, another is the contender, the fighter and a third that is a cute ginger colored cat we named, Gingerale. What is unmistakable also is that there is an unwritten rule that the faster walkers and occassional runners kept to the right like the traffic here, whilst slower and casual walkers are in the left lane, that is the default slow lane. The team sports or individual activities are happenning in the middle as the walkers and runners circle the park. Each are looking at the other for inspiration. There are folks doing yoga by themselves, playing badminton as a group or sweating it out with the gym exercises in the core. At the periphery or the ceiling are the trees and birds. The trees have stories to tell and the birds have songs to sing. These have stood the test of time, the tree barks evidence this and the melody of the birds’ calls indicate the extent of evolution.

Another fascinating aspect of walking in this park is that people are engaged in various conversations, some that are regarding their family, others that are work, news or social affairs related. All these folks are going through various emotions that they share with the community or put into their effort walking or running.

There is a central deity, Lord Ganesha who presides over the park. He regulates the world and everything that is revolving around him in that park or around the world. You notice so much in this park during the runs and walk while having conversation with your fellow walkers. It has been great sharing those in this blog. Let us see what the future walks, runs reveal….

Mr and Mrs N prayed long and hard to the gods to give them strength to be able to wait patiently until God decided it was time for them to bear a child and bring them to this world. Their prayers were answered as Mrs. N was pregnant with a child and was keenly expecting to deliver a healthy child and raise it to continue their lineage. The day finally arrived and the child was born. Except, the child was not entirely human, he resembled an ape from a period of evolution prior to the human race. He was fully formed with partial human features but for most part, he resembled an advanced ape more than a human child. The jury is out whether he had a tail but he was built to stand not crawl, much like a standing homo-erectus.

The parents, Mr and Mrs. N were horrified at first, but began to embrace their fate, even thinking that Lord Hanuman answered their prayers by being born to them in this iteration of fate and turn of time. They accepted their responsibility to take care of this child. But soon, things turned or should we say leapt, as the child began crawling and clinging to the walls and climbing up to dance on the ceiling fan. This horrified the medical staff and the parents alike. The Monkey child, let us call him JG, began to create a ruckus of every room he was in and showed much more penchant to seek the outdoors than be inside a crib or cling to his parents.

As the months rolled by, it became adequately clear that JG is not going to grow up as a human in homes, but rather as a monkey in the forests, so the parents had to give him up to his natural desires and let him go into the wild amongst the monkeys at Monkey Hill between two famous cities. He was joyous and embraced his natural habitat. It is said that every year on his birthday, his parents, Mr. and Mrs. N would come to Monkey Hill to celebrate with him. Whether he knew anything about birthdays or celebrations, he would come to spend time with his parents, perhaps drawn to their scent or from prior memory of their presence.

Mr and Mrs. N came back for 12 years and on the 13th, they searched frantically for JG but he did not come, they came back on the 14th and the 15th and several times in between, but there was no sign of JG. He was gone, whether from this world having finished his purpose or to a different forest, no one could tell. But his time with the Ns was over. A few months later, Mrs. N gave birth to a perfect human child, a girl, let us call her KA. They had several years of joy watching KA grow and even more pride as she became a decorated scholar in the Sanskrit language. Every time, she accomplished anything, JG was remembered, and fondly celebrated on each of his birthdays as KA’s “dada'“ or elder brother. Appearance did not matter, whether he was fully evolved did not matter, what mattered was JG was the first son of the Ns and he left a bit of his grace, a bit of his blessings and much of his presence with the family. His framed picture stands on the walls of the Ns but he lives larger than just an image.

JG’s memory is ever lasting, perhaps like the life of Chiranjeevi Hanuman.

Perhaps the most unforgettable part he played was the one where he played Mufasa in the Lion King Jr. He was nothing like a father, being one of the youngest looking on stage, but his voice was what made him Mufasa. Booming and filling the pipe. His solos and group singing alike just made you tear up and feel the pain of Mufasa as he is parting from his son, or is unable to play with him. He then went on to play a mature role of Perchik in Fiddler on the Roof. Ever the rebel and the singer, he aced that role, being a better singer than actor. My baby is not comfortable with romantic scenes and is not able to finesse in front of girls. That is very unlike me, but he gets that bit of shyness, a paradox on stage, from his mother, who never performed on the big stage despite having an abundance of singing talent.

Then after a couple of years of academic hiatus, he appeared one last time on the big stage of the McAfee to play King Triton in the Little Mermaid Jr. Arguably this was the worst show for singing youth men, but he would not miss the opportunity to bid a final hurrah to his musical career in K-12 school. This marks his 8th performance, including a summer gig he did virtually during COVID-19! He lit up the stage holding the trident, singing to his daughter, the mermaid Arie, and giving it his fullest.

The words of the musical director that Tarun was ever the musician, the eager creative contributor, and a leader who aspired to young voices, summarized his contributions. This final performance, I was sitting in one of the rear rows with my little son, perhaps completing the circle of life and sparking that little inspiration in the next generation. I have no idea whether my little son will pursue this track, but the exposure is our responsibility.

In this age of AI and techno driven society, one has to wonder how long these musicals and stage shows will go on or be supported. But for as long as human expression is alive, tech will further our abilities to express ourselves. I began contemplating some ideas for how AI can give real-time feedback to the artists and technicians to allow them to improvise if they so wanted to. Audience engagement, demographics, and tastes, if available to artists, may spark even more extemporaneous and creativity on the fly within allowable expression and preparation within the group.

Sometimes people gift me their hats, or a keychain, a commemorative coin, a Credly badge, an NFT, or a handwritten note. I keep these safely. I am a collector of memories, of artifacts and memories. Recently though, I got a memory that is hard for me to preserve for a long time but it is a larger symbol than anything else I have ever got from anyone else. It is a workspace. This person passed on their workspace to me before they left, indicating to me that this was their legacy that I was responsible to uphold.

This responsibility is a big one and I don’t know if I will be able to live up to it. But I am grateful to even considered to be a recipient. We obsess a lot over titles, power, fame or money. What are those worth compared to a symbol or legacy like this?

For such an angel to be taken away from her kids an family so young is cruel but then who are we to hatch any plans.It is decided and we walk the path set for us and there’s nothing we can do to change the script.

For me, this is a girl that made me smile. She is one who I commiserated with having returned from the Gulf, finding ourselves in a new city. Girls are mature compared to guys and they care. She certainly did and I needed it.

But a few of us know why some moments are called precious. They increase in value over some time manifold the duration of those moments. I met her every day for 3 years, but I have remembered her for over 26 after then, 16 of which have been unbelievably in her absence.

Unable to forget, even the sweet memories are painful. Rest in Peace my dear A.K. and I can’t say it or write it, but you know it.

These are the defining moments and one rises from the hubris they say, now is the time to find some wings amidst the ashes. It could have been a lot worse, and that is something to be grateful for.

Surrender to the almighty and leave it to the force as there’s nothing else you can do to drive it differently.

• Some wins

• Some losses

• A metaphorical parking ticket

• An unexpected windfall

• A disappointment

• Hard work that was rewarded

• A beautiful city scape

• A cone of lovely ice cream

• A long drive in a fully self driving car I bought

• Lovely dinner with family

Where else can you get all in one?

July 16th, 1999 - a day that will be remembered as a start of an era. An innocent time when there was nothing to lose. A hustle that began and has not yet waned.

All said and done, one thing I can always feel is a sense of gratitude for my employers, my managers, peers, reports, recruiters, friends, and associates. Most of all, without the sacrifices made by our families to let us do what we do, to travel as we need and to work crazily stealing personal time, it would be impossible to accomplish anything. More than all, our maker who gives us the drive, the brain, the resilience and fortitude to accomplish what we set out to, or get close to.

The key thing to sustain this for the next 23? Learning mindset, flexibility and maniacal prioritization of what matters most. Are there another 23? Well.. depends on my ability to stay relevant, fit, and keen.

I have mentioned three curses of joy that a bot or animal with lesser sense will not experience for a prolonged time:

• Comparison

• Expectation

• Attachment

Joy comes to one who does not experience these feelings over a long time. Comparison is bottomless, there is ALWAYS going to be someone better than you; now and in future. Whether is in physical, intellectual or spiritual domains. That’s just the way it works. Roger Federer might have been the greatest tennis player at one time, he still could not beat Rafa’s record on Clay, he could not beat Serena’s record on slams nor could he keep his records for long. Novak will eventually meet the same end, or might have, depending on where you stand. Dynamic runner Kelvin Kiptum died suddenly at a young age, he could have scaled any number of records to be beaten by someone, in this case by laws of nature.

Expectations of something in return, whether material or behavioral lead to disappointment when those expectations are unmet. When expectations are met, you raise expectations until they can no longer be met. Thus inevitably, the result is invariably disappointment can steal any joy from the expectations that have all been met or exceeded.

Attachment is another path to ruin. No glue can be permanent. Thus no attachment can last. When it does not last, it will lead to joy being lost.

Get rid of these three. Accept what you get with gratitude. Have compassion, not expectation. Give but don’t expect to get. Detach yourself from ego, wealth, joy and pain with humility. These are the pathways to sustainable joy.

Isn’t this just like passive smoking where the impact of someone smoking hurts those inhaling the fumes even more? The impact of kids who taunt, tease, bully other kids is often very understated. The impact such kids have on the lives of their targets is not a joke that such kids think they are playing. It leaves scars, sometimes for life.

We should catch kids doing the right things and encourage them. But as parents and educators, we need to be even more aware of such disruptive behaviors and nip them on the bud. Confidence is good for kids and elders, but overconfidence and transgression into mental boundaries is not. Geography is not just for physical artifacts, there should be such a thing called mental space.

Say NO to bullying.