Meraki - to pour a piece of your soul into what you do

It’s been a while since I last wrote, but here I am — sitting down, letting the words spill out the way thoughts pour out in a late-night conversation with a friend: messy, unplanned, but real.

I always looked at hustle culture from a distance, almost like watching a city skyline at night — glowing, intimidating, enticing - making you wonder what it would be like to be a part of it. I thought it meant sleepless nights, calendars packed to the brim, and a constant sprint toward success. Living in a city that breathes the hustle with every sunrise, I knew my day would come. And when it did, it didn’t arrive like a grand announcement; it just slipped in quietly, caught me off guard, and left me feeling like a stranger in my own story. Lost? Yes. Clueless? Definitely. Hopeless? Never. And maybe that’s what saved me.

Because hustle culture isn’t just the grind. It’s the golden degree of life — teaching you lessons without words, showing you more than any lecture or textbook ever could. Some lessons I picked up by simply watching. Others unfolded in conversations — the kind you stumble into, the kind that stay with you. Here's a few of them.

1. Friendships

The hustle has its own way of bringing people together. It doesn’t care about age, background, or titles. I’ve seen a man close to retirement laugh like a teenager with someone who just landed their first internship. I’ve heard strangers ask each other on the train, “Didn’t see you the last couple of days, where were you?” I’ve seen colleagues wait for their travel buddy just to share ten minutes of banter before the grind begins. Friendships in the hustle aren’t planned — they sprout like weeds through concrete. Unexpected, unasked for, yet strangely grounding.

2. Humanity

We keep saying kindness is rare, but maybe it’s not. Maybe we just stopped paying attention. It’s there — in the girl rushing to class who still pauses to steady an old man crossing the road. In the stranger who sees you struggling with directions and decides to help. In the hand that reaches out when you’ve tripped. In the stranger who offers you their water bottle when you look drained. Sometimes it’s just a smile, small but enough to remind you that you aren’t invisible. Humanity, I’ve realised, isn’t extinct. It just hides in plain sight, waiting for us to notice.

3. Time

They say time waits for no one. True. But also not true. Time does pause if you let it. In a city that runs faster than the clock, you’d think breathing space is a luxury. But I’ve felt time slow down just by looking out of a train window at the blur of lights. I’ve felt it when I put away my phone and let myself just exist for a while. You don’t always need a long weekend or a vacation. Sometimes you just need to tell yourself, “Stop.” And for a second, time listens.

4. Home

Home isn’t just four walls. Sometimes it’s your desk at work, the seat you always grab in class, your favorite chai stall, or the familiar commute you take every day. It could be anywhere you stop to look up at the sky, admire it and take a deep breath. The hustle gives you these little pockets of comfort, places that feel like home even if they’re temporary. And then there are the homes you carry forever — the ones built out of people, memories, and moments you don’t let go of.

5. Kindness

What you put out always finds its way back. The smile you gave a stranger. The seat you offered. The mistake you forgave. The grudge you didn't hold. The directions you gave when you didn’t have to. These things matter. Maybe not in that instant, but like boomerangs, they circle back. Kindness doesn’t just soften the world for someone else; it cushions you too. The hustle makes sure you learn that.

Of course, it isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. There are days you curse under your breath at the crowd, days the train feels heavier than usual, days you want to shout at the universe for being unfair, days where you wonder if you'll make it through. But even on those days, you move. You shake it off, tell yourself, “Just a bad day,” and return the next morning. That’s the thing about the hustle: it teaches you to endure, to restart, to carry on — and in that carrying on, you learn.

The conversations you stumble into during this madness feel like little treasures. A stranger telling you what the city looked like 20 years ago. A random lesson you didn’t know you needed. A new friend. A new story. A new home. A new truth. A new perspective. In between the noise, life has a way of quietly dropping these gifts into your lap.

And somewhere between all of this — the chaos, the crowds, the calm pauses — comes gratitude. The hustle humbles you. It reminds you that no matter how fast you’re running, someone else is running too. It reminds you that your struggles aren’t yours alone, that someone on the same train might be fighting a bigger battle, yet still found the space to smile at you. It teaches you that no matter how high you climb, you’re still human — and being human means needing others, noticing the small things, and staying grounded. The hustle doesn’t just teach you to dream bigger; it teaches you to bow your head in thanks for the little things that carry you through.

So this post is my little ode — to all that I’ve learned and all I’m yet to. To the chaos that shapes us, to the city that never stops moving, to the small lessons tucked between deadlines and crowded trains. Here’s to the hustle — not as a grind, but as a teacher.

And to you, reading this: pause. Think of the last small act of kindness you witnessed — or gave. Think of the place that feels like home, even if it isn’t one. Think of the stranger whose smile carried you through a rough day. Think of the story that stayed with you. Think of the sky that comforted you. That’s the hustle speaking to you. Don’t ignore it.