Category: Life Notes

In late September, I attended the Mont Pelerin Society 2024 General Meeting in New Delhi, continuing my unbroken streak of participation since 2014, with the exception of the 2020 meeting cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

This gathering, following the 2022 Oslo meeting I previously wrote on, centred around the theme “Freedom and Prosperity for the Next 6 Billion.” As the Chair of the Organising Committee, I worked closely with the Centre for Civil Society (CCS), which hosted and managed the event. As Parth Shah (Chair of the Program Committee) and I wrote: “Mont Pelerin Society was established in 1947, in the same year in which India gained its independence! At the Centre for Civil Society, we remind our fellow citizens that independence is not the same as freedom, as often has happened, only the rulers’ skin colour changes. Our slogan has been, From Independence to Freedom! India must continue to fight for her economic and personal freedom. What has been true for India has been very much true for the Global South, the 6 billion. And that is the theme of the General Meeting, Freedom & Prosperity for the Next 6 Billion. Actually, the recent political and economic development has put freedom and prosperity of the Global North also in question. The battle cry with which MPS was established is more relevant now than ever.”

An MPS meeting is always an intellectual feast, immersing participants in classical liberal ideas that have fostered prosperity in various nations. For India, this gathering held particular importance as the country stands at a crossroads, with the potential to embark on a path to prosperity. However, realising this potential requires significantly more individual and economic freedom than currently exists. Unfortunately, this concept is not widely understood in India, neither by policymakers nor by the general public.

After the meeting, as I reflected on India’s needs, three key themes emerged: “Swatantra Business” – the need to free Indian businesses from government interference; “Swatantra Cities” – empowering cities by reducing central and state government control; and “Dhan Vapasi” – the monetisation of surplus public assets combined with universal wealth return. These concepts align with my previous efforts to create a movement for prosperity called Nayi Disha. [Here are my writings on related themes.]

What I wrote after MPS Oslo still holds true: “A politically stable and secure leadership can free Indians and open India to the world. A decade of breakthrough ideas like Dhan Vapasi, low taxes, protecting property rights, enablement of education, decentralisation of powers to cities, freeing agriculture from all its constraints, removing trade barriers, ensuring speedy justice and contract enforcement, and eliminating all discriminatory laws can see India rise rapidly to middle-income levels.”

Looking ahead, the next MPS meeting is scheduled for 2026 in Indianapolis. This event will mark the 250th anniversaries of two significant milestones: the publication of Adam Smith’s “The Wealth of Nations” and the Declaration of American Independence. I eagerly anticipate attending the meeting and continuing to engage with these vital ideas for global prosperity, especially 1.5 billion Indians.

One of the cornerstones of my daily routine is spending 30-40 minutes each weekday morning reviewing my notes from the previous day and writing a page or so with key highlights and incremental ideas. I’ve dubbed this practice my “AM Doc” – a nod to its early morning execution and its role as a document of reflection and growth.

During the hustle of the day, particularly in meetings, I rely on my spiral notebook for making notes. This analog approach keeps me present and focused, free from the distractions of digital devices. At the top of each page, I list immediate actionables from the meeting, ensuring nothing slips through the cracks of memory. This system allows me to keep my mind uncluttered, delegating the task of remembering to paper rather than taxing my mental bandwidth.

However, while this method excels at capturing information in the moment, it leaves a gap in terms of reflection and connecting the dots across various interactions and ideas. This is where the AM Doc steps in, bridging that crucial gap.

For me, the early morning hours are a wellspring of productivity. Rising with the sun, I carve out time from about 5 am for my read-write-think routine. As I revisit my notes from the previous day with fresh eyes and the benefit of some distance, I often uncover threads that might have otherwise gone unnoticed. It could be recurring phrases, intriguing references, or thought-provoking questions that warrant deeper consideration. In the whirlwind of back-to-back meetings that often characterise our workdays, this dedicated time to see the bigger picture is invaluable.

As leaders, one of our primary responsibilities is to peer into the future and make informed bets on differentiated strategies that will give us a competitive edge in tomorrow’s landscape. The AM Doc serves as a critical tool in this endeavour. It’s my personal laboratory for synthesising disparate ideas into a cohesive whole – some reinforcing existing mental models, others challenging and reshaping them.

The tranquillity of the morning, undisturbed by the constant pings of emails or the chatter of WhatsApp and Slack messages, provides the perfect environment for this deep work. It’s in these quiet moments that my most innovative ideas for both the business and this blog tend to surface. I’ve come to treasure this time – it’s a form of “Me time” that functions as a kaizen-like system of continuous improvement, allowing for incremental yet impactful progress day after day.

To further enhance the utility of this practice, I’ve incorporated an additional step. After accumulating a few weeks’ worth of AM Docs, I print them out and have them spirally bound. This physical compilation allows me to quickly scan through aggregated thoughts and insights much faster than rifling through multiple digital files. It’s a tangible record of my intellectual journey and often serves as a fountain for inspiration when I’m grappling with complex problems or seeking fresh perspectives.

Looking ahead, I can envision a future where AI might streamline this process –  automatically summarising meeting notes, identifying patterns, and even suggesting connections that human cognition might miss. However, until that day arrives (and perhaps even after), I’ll continue to rely on my AM Doc.

During my recent US trip, I attended multiple conferences, presenting at two and engaging in a 1:1 conversation at the third. In the quieter moments, I found myself pondering how to elevate these events. The challenge lies in striking a balance between content and sponsor needs while keeping attendees engaged. After all, in our digital age, a few minutes of dullness is all it takes to lose an audience to their smartphones and laptops.

Here are ten ideas to transform conferences into more dynamic, engaging experiences:

20-Minute Max: No session should exceed 20 minutes. If TED Talks can convey groundbreaking ideas within this timeframe, so can any presentation.

1:1 Conversations: Replace (where possible) traditional presentations with one-on-one conversations that delve into real numbers and tangible experiences. Nathan Latka’s approach at SaaS Open is exemplary, making content relatable and concrete.

Streamlined Panels: Limit panels to a moderator and two speakers. This format allows for deeper discussions, avoiding the pitfall of multiple panelists repeating similar points with insufficient depth.

Live Audience Feedback: Implement a screen displaying real-time audience feedback and questions. Leverage the smart devices attendees already have to enrich the conversation with their insights.

Question Incentives: Encourage participation by rewarding selected questions with prizes like Starbucks vouchers or books. This can help overcome the common hesitation to engage.

Data-Driven Sponsor Presentations: Sponsor talks should feature customers presenting real-world data: the problem faced, the solution implemented, and the measurable results. This approach grounds presentations in reality, preventing them from sounding like AI-generated content.

Optimised Name Tags: Design clear, double-sided name tags with large, bold text for first names and company names. Smaller font can be used for last names and designations, ensuring easy visibility from a distance.

Pre-Event Preparation: Organisers should conduct run-throughs with each presenter and facilitate pre-event calls for panel members. This ensures smooth flow and eliminates the need to “wing it.”

Strict Scheduling: Adhere rigorously to the timetable. Implement visible timers on stage and empower producers to keep the event running like clockwork, avoiding the cumulative delays common in some conferences.

Skip Speaker Intros: In our digital age, lengthy introductions are unnecessary. Avoid the cliché of “XYZ needs no introduction” followed by a list of achievements. Trust attendees to access this information online if interested.

The key to a successful conference lies in recognising the evolving attention spans of our Insta/TikTok/X era. Event organisers must think like filmmakers, ensuring every minute captivates and contributes value. By implementing these strategies, conferences can transform into dynamic, engaging experiences that keep attendees present and participative. They can become to become hubs of genuine learning, networking, and inspiration. Let’s reimagine these events to match the pace and expectations of our digital world, creating experiences that are truly worth stepping away from our screens for.

We all have our stories about amazing experiences in the hospitality industry. Those moments when someone goes above and beyond, making us feel like the most important person in the world. I had such an experience recently at the Loews Coronado Bay Resort in San Diego, which got me thinking about the power of personalisation in business.

I was at breakfast during a marketing conference, navigating the spread with my usual caution due to my strict Jain dietary restrictions. Among the offerings, I spotted a bagel labelled “Vegetarian”. For me, a bagel in the US is hard to resist! However, in my experience, “vegetarian” doesn’t always mean egg-free. I approached one of the servers with my query, fully expecting a polite but uncertain response. After all, I was just one among 150+ attendees with an off-the-syllabus question.

To my surprise, the server, despite not knowing the answer immediately, promised to check. A few minutes later, he returned with his phone in hand. “I wanted to be absolutely sure,” he said, showing me a photo of the ingredients list from the bagel packaging. “There’s no egg. You can check for yourself – and also make sure the other ingredients are okay with you.”

As I sat on the terrace later, savouring both my bagel and the breathtaking views of the bay, I realised that this was the epitome of hyper-personalisation that marketers should strive for. I was a segment of one. Someone had gone out of their way to address my specific need, treating me as if I were a VIP.

This wasn’t an isolated incident. During my stays at the Residence Inn at Times Square in New York over the past few years, I’ve experienced similar attentiveness. Despite visiting only twice a year for about 15-20 nights total, I’m always greeted with a warm “Welcome back, Sir” upon check-in. One front-desk executive, in particular, has gotten to know me well, and we always share a friendly chat when he’s on duty.

These experiences underscore a crucial lesson for businesses: the art of N=1 personalisation, creating memorable experiences for a segment of one. While AI and data analytics can certainly help in tailoring services and products, it’s the human touch that provides that extra layer of difference. The genuine care and attention shown by these hospitality workers can’t be replicated by algorithms alone.

The challenge, of course, lies in scaling this level of personalisation. How can businesses provide this VIP treatment to every customer? A good starting point is to focus on your best customers – an approach I’ve termed “Velvet Rope Marketing.” By identifying and prioritising your most valuable clients, you can dedicate resources to providing them with exceptional, personalised experiences.

Ultimately, N=1 personalisation is about making every customer feel seen, heard, and valued. It’s about going beyond creating meaningful connections that stay long after the transaction. In a world increasingly dominated by digital interactions, these human moments of care and attention can be your greatest differentiator.

As businesses, our goal should be to create more of these moments – to make every customer feel like they’re the only customer that matters. Because in that moment, to them, they are.

As I was preparing for the marketing presentations in the US, I decided to try an experiment. Most presentations are straightforward: a person on stage speaking to a bunch of slides. After sitting through 10-15 of these in a day at conferences, they all start to blend together. I’ve been to countless such events throughout my career, and I realised I had to do something different to stand out – to make my presentation not just informative, but memorable. That’s where the idea of using three caps came in.

Instead of a bland presentation of ideas, I framed it as a conversation between Maya (a new CMO of an eCommerce company) and Rajesh (me – her friend, philosopher, and guide). To bring this discussion to life, I hit upon the idea of using two caps and switching between them depending on who was speaking. I added the CEO cap as a finale, creating a three-act structure that would keep the audience engaged throughout.

The preparation was intense. I practiced hard, working through the switching of caps until it became second nature. I knew that a single mistake could break the flow and distract people. The transition between caps had to be seamless. My goal was to make people feel they weren’t watching a presentation, but experiencing a performance – a piece of business theatre that would stick in their minds long after the conference ended.

On the day of the presentation, it worked flawlessly. The audience was captivated from the start, their eyes following each cap change with rapt attention. As I switched roles, I could see the shift in their expressions – from empathy with Maya’s challenges to thoughtful consideration of Rajesh’s advice, and finally to the surprise announcement by the CEO.

The feedback was overwhelmingly positive. Numerous people approached me afterwards, saying things like: “Your caps were cool”, “I loved your switching of the caps”, and “I will remember this presentation for long – never saw anything like it in a serious marketing conference.” One attendee even joked, “I came for the marketing insights, but I learnt some  hat tricks!”

As I reflected on the presentation and the feedback, I realised that we not only need good ideas, but we need to tell them as a story – one that people can relate to and remember. The caps idea made it unforgettable, but more importantly, it allowed me to connect with the audience on multiple levels. It brought in the element of me being able to articulate sentiments they were feeling as marketers via the role play of Maya as a CMO – and then have those concerns addressed by an expert (Rajesh). The interplay between these perspectives created a dynamic that a traditional presentation simply couldn’t match.

The CEO cap at the end was a nice add-on, elevating the entire performance. The story became not about two, but three caps. Like a juggler with three balls, the third one makes all the difference! It added an extra layer of complexity and interest, while also providing a higher-level view of the strategies we’d discussed.

This experience reinforced for me the power of creative presentation techniques. In a world where information is abundant, it’s not just what you say, but how you say it that makes the difference. By turning a presentation into a performance, we can engage our audience’s emotions as well as their intellects, making our messages stick long after the Powerpoint slides have faded from memory.

The following week, I was scheduled to do the same presentation at another marketing conference – this time in San Diego. My disastrous NY experience meant that I could not use the same title. I clearly needed something very different.

Looking back at what had gone wrong in New York, I realised the issue wasn’t just the delivery; it was about connecting with the audience at a more visceral level. The parallel session that had been taking place when I spoke on “Profitless to Profipoly: Re-engineering Retention with AI Twins and Email Apps” was titled “Your Post-Purchase Flow Is Terrible. Here’s Why.” I remember glancing at it and realising that it resonated more immediately. Taking a dispassionate view, it was clear which title seemed more attractive and likely to grab attention. Titles matter. They set expectations and draw people in before you’ve even had the chance to speak.

With this in mind, I decided to scrap my original title and take a new approach. My revised title? “Your Acquisition Strategy Sucks! 3 AI-Powered Fixes You Need Now.”  There were five critical reasons why I settled on this title (with a little help from the AIs, of course).

First, I learned the hard way that you must start where the audience is, not where you want them to be. It’s a fundamental principle of communication, yet one I had overlooked in my eagerness to share my vision. Customer acquisition is the primary obsession of marketing teams, not retention. So, instead of leading with retention (which should come later), I led with acquisition. It’s always easier to hook people in with something they’re already anxious about. It’s like fishing – you bait the hook with what the fish wants, not what you think they should eat.

Second, the title needed to be bold and hard-hitting. “Your Acquisition Strategy Sucks” isn’t just a statement; it’s a challenge. It triggers a visceral reaction, which is exactly what’s needed to cut through the noise at a crowded conference. In a sea of polite, jargon-filled titles, this one promised to deliver some hard truths. It’s provocative, maybe even a bit uncomfortable, but that’s what creates engagement. In fact, a colleague overheard an attendee tell another at the lunch table, “This is a session I want to attend. Rising cost of acquisition is a serious problem in my company.” This anecdote perfectly illustrated the power of addressing a pain point head-on.

Third, while the first half grabs attention, the second half offers a solution. It’s not enough to point out the flaws; you must also promise a way out. That’s where “3 AI-Powered Fixes You Need Now” came in. It’s not just pointing out a problem; it’s promising specific, countable solutions. There’s something psychologically appealing about the number three – it’s manageable, memorable, and implies a comprehensive approach without being overwhelming.

Fourth, let’s face it – AI is the buzzword of the moment. If AI is in the title, you’ve already given your talk a major head start because it’s what everyone wants to hear about. AI is synonymous with modern, cutting-edge solutions, and anything less would seem dated. Everyone’s talking about AI, everyone’s curious about it, and everyone’s a bit anxious about being left behind. By prominently featuring AI, I’m signalling that this talk is cutting-edge, relevant, and potentially game-changing.

Finally, the title had to suggest immediate actionability. The promise of “3 AI-powered fixes you need now” creates a sense of urgency, implying that these aren’t just theoretical concepts or future possibilities, but solutions that can be implemented right away. In a world where marketers are constantly bombarded with new ideas and strategies, the promise of something they can act on immediately is incredibly appealing.

This new title was a complete departure from my original approach. It was less about educating and more about provoking. Less about my vision and more about their pain points. It was a calculated risk, but one that I hoped would fill the room and create the engagement I needed to eventually lead them to the ideas of retention re-engineering and the path to becoming a profipoly.

It worked. I had a full room. (The competition in this case was not another session, but the amazing weather and views right outside the conference room; it was San Diego after all.)

**

The experience with the two presentations became a valuable turning point. It has reignited my passion for the art of communication and reminded me of the ever-present need to connect with our audience on their terms, not just ours. As I move forward, I carry with me a renewed appreciation for the delicate balance between innovation and accessibility, between complexity and appeal. In the end, this lesson in humility may prove to be the most valuable presentation I could have given – to myself.

In the heart of New York City, I found myself facing an unexpected challenge. I had come to share groundbreaking ideas at a marketing conference. My topic, “Profitless to Profipoly: Re-engineering Retention with AI Twins and Email Apps,” seemed, to me, a beacon of innovation in the marketing world. Little did I know that I was about to receive a stark lesson in the very field I thought I had mastered.

The conference hall buzzed with energy as attendees flocked to various sessions. My anticipation was palpable as I prepared to unveil concepts that I believed could revolutionise customer retention strategies – and eventually brand profits. However, as I stood ready to present, a harsh reality set in. The room, capable of hosting a hundred, held merely ten. The contrast was stark and humbling – a parallel session, with the enticing title “Your post purchase flow is terrible. Here’s why,” had drawn a crowd over ten times larger.

I watched, a mix of disappointment and realisation washing over me, as people streamed out of the room at the end of the previous session. Their choices were clear – they were voting with their feet, and the verdict was not in my favour. The scale of my misjudgment hit me like a tidal wave. I had committed a cardinal sin in marketing: I had failed to market myself and my ideas effectively.

In my eagerness to share complex, innovative concepts, I had overlooked a fundamental principle – the need for an appealing, accessible pitch. My session title, while descriptive and meaningful to me, had failed to resonate with the broader audience. It was a classic case of losing sight of the forest for the trees.

This experience served as a powerful reminder that even the most groundbreaking ideas need effective packaging and promotion. Innovation alone is not enough; it must be coupled with the ability to capture attention and spark curiosity. I had assumed that the merit of my ideas would speak for itself, forgetting that in a world inundated with information, the first challenge is simply to be heard.

The magnitude of this missed opportunity was not lost on me. It wasn’t just a personal setback but a lost chance for Netcore to showcase its cutting-edge thinking and tech innovations. I had envisioned pioneering new approaches to profitability and customer retention, but instead found myself grappling with a fundamental lesson in audience engagement.

This experience underscored a crucial truth: in the realm of ideas, presentation is as vital as content. Even the most revolutionary concepts need a compelling sales pitch. People make split-second decisions based on first impressions, and I had failed to make mine count.

As I reflected on this experience, I realised that when faced with such significant missteps, incremental changes are insufficient. This situation called for a complete rethinking of my approach to presenting ideas. It was a reminder that as marketers, we must constantly apply our skills not just to our products or services, but to ourselves and our ideas as well.

I had an opportunity waiting a few days later.

On the flight from Mumbai to NY, I was doing what I like best on long-hauls: listening to songs stored offline via Amazon Prime and my Bose headset, and thinking and writing in my notebook. Mine was the only overhead light shining. For me, flights are the best thinking pods ever created. (And I really hope Air India doesn’t do Wi-Fi on their US non-stops!)

A young woman from a few rows behind walked up to me and said, “I have been observing you and you write so much. What do you write? I don’t see too many people writing, so am curious to know.” I then explained to her about my writing habits and also a bit about me. I also gave her a copy of my book.

I have had this experience more than a few times. People asking what I write and who I am. Most mistake me to be a writer of some sort. (Which in a way I am.) And that made me wonder, why don’t more people write? Our mind is always active. We are observing the world around. Ideas come up. Not all may be actionable, but just writing them keeps the mind free.

But I was happy that the woman was curious and bold to come and ask me! (And observant.)

Here is a second story from my US travels. I was carrying a few of my books from our office to my hotel room to pack for the next event we were doing in San Diego. In the hotel elevator, a middle-aged woman (probably around my age) saw me with the books (all with the same title), “What are those books? Are they yours?” And I said, “Yes. I wrote a book on entrepreneurship, and these are for a conference.” She replied, “My son wants to become an entrepreneur. He has many ideas. Any suggestions for him?” I answered, “Focus on the problem. Ask him to find a problem that people have and which he can solve uniquely. That could be his company.” She thanked me and we parted.

A couple days later, we again met in the elevator. (What’s the probability of a second chance meeting?!) This time, her son was with her. She recognised me and introduced her son. I recommended to him Uri Levine’s book, “Fall in Love with the Problem, not the Solution.” I wished him luck.

Life is sometimes about these short sweet moments with strangers which bring a smile. Our paths will probably never cross again, but in that briefest of engagements, we have shared something and created a memory. And perhaps helped each other become better. These fleeting interactions, though seemingly insignificant, often leave lasting impressions that enrich our lives in unexpected ways. They remind us of the interconnectedness of human experiences and the potential for growth in every encounter.

In a world increasingly dominated by digital interactions, these spontaneous, face-to-face exchanges become even more precious. They challenge us to remain open, curious, and engaged with the world around us. Whether it’s a conversation sparked by a simple observation or a chance meeting that leads to sharing knowledge, these moments serve as gentle reminders of our shared humanity. They encourage us to look beyond our immediate circles and recognise the potential for learning and connection in every interaction.

In sharing our thoughts and experiences with others, we not only potentially impact their lives but also reinforce our own beliefs and values. It’s a beautiful reciprocity that enriches both parties involved, creating ripples of positivity that extend far beyond the moment itself.

Labour Day (US) weekends have become an unexpected milestone in my entrepreneurial journey, bookending two pivotal moments in my career, three decades apart.

In 1994, I found myself in the Bay Area around Labour Day, grappling with the challenges of a struggling entrepreneur. Two years prior, I had returned to India with grand ambitions of building a software products business, only to face a series of setbacks. My confidence was at its nadir, and while I had a few nascent ideas, the path forward remained obscure. The trip was a desperate search for direction, a lifeline for my floundering entrepreneurial dreams.

Fast forward to 2024, and I find myself in the US, again around Labor Day, in a starkly different position. Netcore, the company I’ve nurtured, has reached the impressive milestone of $100 million in revenue with healthy profitability. Yet, the road to $200 million and beyond seems shrouded in some uncertainty. Our growth, while steady, has decelerated from the heady days of 2020-2023. The market landscape has evolved, with competition intensifying in our core sectors. Once again, I find myself at a crossroads, seeking that elusive ‘next big thing’ to propel us forward.

The parallels between these two trips, separated by three decades, are striking. Both journeys are quests for innovation, born from the recognition that past strategies have perhaps reached their limits. However, the contrasts are equally significant. In 1994, I was a fledgling entrepreneur, my resume a litany of failures, desperately seeking my first breakthrough. Now, in 2024, I stand as a seasoned ‘proficorn’ business leader with numerous successes under my belt, yet facing the equally daunting challenge of scaling to new heights.

The 1994 trip bore fruit in the form of IndiaWorld, India’s pioneering web portal. This time, my mind buzzes with fresh concepts: re-engineering retention; reimagining email with Atomic Rewards (Mu), Email apps (Epps), ActionAds; AI Twins; and Kaizen services (Progency). Could this constellation of ideas form the bedrock of a new marketing paradigm, one that drives sustainable, profitable growth for businesses in the AI age?

What I’ve come to appreciate about these US trips is the mental space they provide. Removed from the daily grind of Mumbai operations, my mind is free to wander, connecting disparate dots and stumbling upon unexpected synergies. There’s rarely a single ‘Eureka’ moment; instead, it’s a series of micro-realisations, gradually coalescing into a coherent vision.

As I reflect on this journey, I’m struck by the profound changes in the technological landscape. The 1994 trip coincided with the dawn of the Internet era; now, in 2024, we stand at the threshold of the AI Age. Throughout these three decades, technology has been my constant fascination, a flame that shows no sign of dimming. What excites me is that I remain at the forefront of this revolution, still burning with the passion to make a meaningful impact on the world.

The juxtaposition of these two Labour Day trips serves as a poignant reminder of my entrepreneurial evolution. From a struggling dreamer to a successful innovator, the core drive remains unchanged: the relentless pursuit of the next big idea. As I navigate this latest chapter, I’m filled with a sense of anticipation. The challenges may have changed, but the thrill of innovation and the potential to reshape industries continue to fuel my entrepreneurial spirit.

On the flight to New York, I started reading a book, “The Notebook: A History of Thinking on Paper” by Roland Allen. I had read a Wall Street Journal review about the book. As someone who keeps a notebook and still makes notes and thinks on paper, the book was too good to resist!

From the review: “A fresh notebook exudes strange power. If you have ever opened one, perhaps while sitting at a sidewalk cafe, you will know the rising sense of possibility that comes with what Mr. Allen calls “the infinite potential of the blank page.” It is as though the unmarked paper is summoning something—an idea, a verse, a drawing—that might otherwise have stayed inside your head, undeveloped. A notebook thus becomes an extension of the self. Perhaps it is your deep personal self and you are writing down your emotions and experiences in a diary (or “egodocument,” as present-day academics have it). Perhaps it is your professional maritime self and you are documenting longitude and latitude in a ship’s log on a sea journey; or perhaps it is any number of aspects of yourself expressed in one of the other variants of notebook that Mr. Allen has discovered.”

From the book’s introduction: “You don’t need me to tell you what a Moleskine looks like, but you may not have considered how insistently its design sends messages to the ‘Contemporary Nomad’. The minimal black cover looks, at first glance, like it might be leather: robust, but also luxurious. The non-standard dimensions, a couple of centimetres narrower than the familiar A5, let you slip the notebook into a jacket pocket, and the rounded corners – which add considerably to the production cost – help with this. They also stop your pages from getting dog-eared and, together with the elastic strap and unusually heavy cover boards, confirm that the notebook is ready for travel. The edges of the board sit flush with the page block, ensuring that your Moleskine can never be mistaken for a printed book. In use, it lies obediently open and flat, and the pocket glued into the back cover board invites you to hide souvenirs – photos, tickets stubs, the phone numbers of beautiful strangers. Two hundred pages suggest that you have plenty to write about; the paper itself, tinted to a classy ivory shade and unusually smooth to the touch, implies that your ideas deserve nothing but the best, and the ribbon marker helps you navigate your musings. Discreetly minimal it may seem, but the whole package is as shot through with brand messaging as anything labelled Nike, Mercedes or Apple – and like the best cues, the messaging works on a subconscious level.”

I can attest to the power of a blank page. I have a 300-page ruled spiral notebook that I use for all my notes and thoughts. I complete one book in about two weeks. My notebook is always with me – it’s like a friend who is always around to talk with. I write everything; it helps keep the mind free. This practice has become an integral part of my daily routine and creative process. The act of putting pen to paper allows me to externalise my thoughts, giving them a tangible form outside my mind. It’s not just about recording ideas; it’s about exploring them, connecting disparate concepts, and often stumbling upon unexpected insights. Whether I’m brainstorming business strategies, reflecting on personal experiences, or simply jotting down observations about the world around me, my notebook serves as both a canvas for my thoughts and a time capsule of my intellectual journey. The physical act of writing seems to engage my brain differently than typing on a device (which I am not good at in real-time in meetings). Writing on paper often leads to more nuanced thinking and deeper reflection.

In many ways, my notebook has become an extension of my cognitive processes, a trusted companion in my quest for clarity and creativity. It is my Digital Twin.

Also see: Parts 3-5 from My Life System series.