Poetry, Essays & Reflections – Visit My Amazon Author Page


I’m happy to share that my books now have a dedicated home on Amazon through my Author Page. This space brings together my diverse writings—poems, sayings, essays, and reflective pieces that explore consciousness, human experience, and the inner journey. Readers can browse my published works, read descriptions, and stay connected as new books are added.
For many, my writing has served as a quiet invitation to pause, reflect, and rediscover clarity. Having an Author Page allows me to reach those readers more easily and continue that conversation. If you’ve followed my work or would like to explore it, I invite you to visit the page, bookmark it, and share it with anyone who may resonate with this blend of poetry and philosophy.
Here is the link to my Amazon Author Page:
https://www.amazon.com/author/samar

Nee illu Ekkado Telusa – “నీ ఇల్లు ఎక్కడో తెలుసా” || Telugu Folk Song 


“నీ ఇల్లు ఎక్కడో తెలుసా?” — Do you know where your true home is? This powerful Telugu folk song cuts through life’s illusions with fearless honesty, addressing the restless human mind directly. You celebrate your house, your family, your wealth — but your real final home, the song reminds us, lies at the cremation ground. You arrived in this world with nothing, and you will leave with nothing.
The song urges the mind not to cling to spouse, children, or siblings — for on the day you depart, even your closest loved ones will hesitate to come near. It questions the endless wrestling over property and possessions, calling them asthi ramu — unstable, impermanent. Fame and status fare no better: “How significant are you in this vast universe? How far does your name really reach?”
Even the body you call your own will one day abandon you. Belonging to the Telugu Vairagya tradition of philosophical folk poetry — echoing saints like Vemana and Kabir — this song does not preach despair. It preaches awakening. Surrender to the eternal, unseen divine, it says, for in a life of total impermanence, that alone is real.

“I will go wherever my argument leads me”


“Follow the argument wherever it leads” — drawn from Plato’s Republic — stands as the cornerstone of the Socratic method. It reflects a profound commitment to pursuing truth through rational dialogue, even when conclusions challenge our deepest assumptions. Socrates held that intellectual honesty demands we set aside bias and comfort in favor of objective reasoning. Through dialectic — the art of reasoned questioning — he pushed interlocutors to confront contradictions in their own beliefs. This relentless pursuit of truth over reputation ultimately led to his trial in Athens, yet he never wavered. Philosophy, at its best, asks us to do the same.

How AI Helped Me Make Peace with Science: A Journey Through Psychology, Medicine, and the Humanities


Why would anyone turn to AI to work through a psychological aversion to the natural sciences — or to process complicated feelings about medical school classmates they’d rather not see? The answer, it turns out, is stranger and more revealing than the question itself.
In this post, I reflect on an unexpected journey: using AI conversations to untangle a deep-seated psychological distaste — not just for medicine and biology, but for the whole constellation of natural sciences, from chemistry and physics to geology and astronomy. What began as an oddly specific inquiry into whether doctors are boring slowly became something far more personal: a reckoning with how our inner landscape distorts our perception of the outer world.
Perhaps the most unsettling insight is this — we don’t see fields of knowledge as they are; we see them as we are. Our psyche, in its quiet wisdom or its quiet woundedness, nudges us toward certain domains and away from others, not always by rational design but by emotional necessity. For those of us who needed the humanities and social sciences to feel whole, that detour wasn’t a failure of intellect. It was a form of healing.

Are doctors a tad boring?


What happens when a doctor defects to economics and the humanities — and then asks an AI whether doctors are a tad boring? The answers, from both Claude and Google AI, reveal something deeper than professional stereotypes. Claude argues that medical training, by design, rewards convergent thinking — getting the right diagnosis — over the exploratory, question-generating mind that the humanities cultivate. Years spent in a closed intellectual world produce a certain narrowness, though brilliant exceptions like Oliver Sacks and Atul Gawande remind us it is medical culture, not doctors as people, that deserves the critique. Google AI, characteristically, opts for balance: doctors are not boring, merely exhausted. But perhaps the most honest insight lies in the afterthought the questioner himself appends — that his intense dislike of medicine may be colouring his perception of those who stayed. Self-knowledge, as ever, is the beginning of wisdom.

The Spiritual Quest


I know not which way This spiritual quest twists and turns What works, what doesn’t In the mundane may lie…