SURVIVAL STRATEGIES💪

We all earn a living to lead a life. Occupation at times becomes a need to survive for many. This blog is about the same.

The Quiet Brilliance of Everyday Survivors

Over the past few weeks, I found myself observing people from all corners of life each one carrying an invisible toolkit of survival strategies. Some belong to the world of white-collared work: government employees, corporate workers, business owners. From the outside, their lives may seem cushioned, even privileged. Yet the pressures they shoulder are relentless, the fear of uncertainty always hovering like a silent blade above their days.

But beyond this familiar world exists another universe one stitched together by people who earn purely on a day-to-day basis. For them, income is as unpredictable as the monsoon clouds, yet they greet each morning with an almost poetic courage. If life were a battlefield, their most reliable armour would be unpolished, unstated, yet astonishingly powerful.

Among these everyday warriors were three faces that lingered in my thoughts, each one carrying a story that shimmered quietly beneath the surface.unstated, yet astonishingly powerful.

THE BLANKET RIDER

The first was a blanket seller.

What drew me in wasn’t the man himself but the extraordinary sight of his motorbike stacked high with blankets until the vehicle resembled a moving hill of softness. There was barely any space for him to sit; just a sliver of seat clinging to necessity.

I couldn’t resist capturing the moment. And when I spoke to him, his story unfolded with the simplicity of someone accustomed to hardship: he rode 15 kilometres every single day just to reach this spot. No fixed income, no certainty of customers only hope, effort, and persistence strapped tightly with the blankets he carried.

His energy startled me; his determination humbled me.And his resilience… it glowed brighter than the sun that afternoon quiet, steady, and fierce enough to keep an entire life in motion.

The Man with the Cotton Bags

The second scene was smaller, gentler a little pocket of sweetness.

On a quiet roadside stood a man selling tiny cotton handbags, each one stitched in soft colours and neat patterns. They looked like small parcels of joy waiting to be chosen. He wasn’t loud or persistent; his voice drifted like a polite invitation to anyone passing by.

His smile carried warmth without effort, the kind that comes from sincerity rather than strategy.

I bought a bag, and as I handed him the money, he slipped a tiny candy into my palm with the same soft smile.

“A small gesture for my customers,” he said.

The candy felt sweeter than it looked. In that moment, I realised he wasn’t just selling bags; he was offering a little goodwill wrapped in fabric and kindness. A lesson in how heart can elevate even the simplest exchange.

The Silver Man in the Evening Rush

Temples, to me, are theatres of devotion and commerce entwined. Outside their gates, a whole ecosystem blooms every evening flower sellers arranging garlands with practised hands, sweet vendors stacking trays with care, bangles catching the last blush of daylight before the lamps take over.

During a recent visit, I stepped into this familiar swirl. The sky was shifting from gold to hushed blue, the temple bells were beginning to ring, and devotees moved like restless waves through the entrance.

And right there—in the middle of all this motion—I saw him.

A frail old man, standing absolutely still.

His entire body was dusted in silver. Face, hands, clothes—everything shimmered faintly under the soft temple lights. It felt as though a slice of moonlight had stepped down from the sky and chosen stillness as its craft.

He didn’t blink. He didn’t shift. He simply existed in a disciplined quiet.

At his feet was a tiny QR code tag—his modern-day equivalent of an offering bowl. People paused, smiled, stared, scanned. Children watched with wide eyes. Everyone moved on, but he stayed anchored in his unmoving performance.

And yet behind the metallic paint was a profound truth—his chosen way of survival. A strategy built not on noise or persuasion, but on absolute silence.

There was something deeply dignified about it. In a world constantly pushing forward, this still silver figure held his ground with unwavering resolve. He became the most unforgettable part of my visit that day… a shining reminder that people find astonishingly creative, courageous ways to earn a living.

A CLOSING THOUGHT

From the blanket rider to the cotton bag seller to the silent silver statue—each one carried a different story, a different struggle, a different method of staying afloat. Yet beneath all their differences lay a shared thread: resilience.

It is the quiet force that keeps them moving.
It is the invisible currency that shapes their days.
It is the brilliance that often goes unnoticed in the rush of our own routines.

Watching them reminded me that survival isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes, it’s a man balancing blankets on a motorbike. Sometimes it’s a candy tucked into a stranger’s hand. Sometimes it’s a silver figure choosing stillness in the middle of the evening rush.

And all of it… is remarkable.

I am ending this blog with my heartfelt observations.

If any of you have also come across such people do post in the comments. Would b entice to hear the same.

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