PinkTin

Anxious doodler | Storyteller | Traveller

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Remember those school essays? "Great leaders are born, not made. Discuss." I used to passionately argue in favour of this statement. After all, it sounded convincing. Leaders, I believed, were simply wired differently. Years later, after working with some exceptional people, I have changed my mind. Leadership isn't forged in boardrooms or defined by job titles. It's built in the quiet moments that rarely make it to performance reviews. The decision to listen before reacting, the courage to stand by your convictions, the discipline to show up when motivation has clocked out, and the empathy to see people as humans before employees. The more I observe, the more I realise that great leadership isn't about commanding attention. It's about earning trust. In my latest blog, I explore the four qualities that, in my experience, separate good managers from great leaders. So do you think leaders are born, or are they made? I would love to know. Read the blog and let me know your thoughts. #Leadership #LeadershipDevelopment #PersonalGrowth #CareerGrowth #Workplace #ProfessionalDevelopment #Management #LifeLessons #PinkTin #Blog

Leadership was never about the loudest voice. It is about the quietest habits.

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Coming from the text book people pleaser, I thought if I worked hard enough, people will be happy! However, I was wrong. My senior, she had a habit of thinking out loud, and out of habit, she muttered “Why can’t she be more like the girl who worked before her?” under her breath. And I heard it. That was it. One sentence. No dramatic confrontation. No public humiliation. Just one passing remark about what or how she felt about my work. And the job was done. My confidence crumbled. My self-respect took a hit. And the textbook people-pleaser in me responded in the only way she knew hoe – working even harder to prove her worth. Looking back, it was almost funny. I was trying to bribe someone into validating my work ethics with productivity, As if extra work could change her opinion already been formed. Nothing I did was enough, because the problem was never my effort or my work. The problem was I handed someone else the remote control to my self-worth. Now standing on the other side of 30, I want to tell that scared 25 year old, “Bro, other people’s happiness cannot come at the cost of your sanity.! Scr*w that senior! Don’t let her define your worth.”

3 Things 30-Year-Old Me wants to Tell 25-Year-Old Me

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Well, I have earned the title "PPT Gupta" for a reason. Read on to know why. And if you like my style of writing and illustration, you can read my book here - https://www.amazon.in/Diary-Bespectacled-30-Year-Old/dp/B0DZXNZVQQ Yes, I have written a book.... 🥹

Three Things I Have Learnt About Making Presentations (After Making Far Too Many)

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Around 10 years ago, my little brother told me he wanted to be an Uber driver when he grew up.

He was 10. And turns out, he was way ahead of his time. A child sees the world through a different lens, something that is especially humbling. And why not? There is no social conditioning, no career anxiety. Just pure, unfiltered observation of the world as it actually is – colourful, without the grey. This makes every option a possibility. So the conversation began with the stereotypical…

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Luxury isn’t loud. It lingers. Beyond marble and chandeliers lies something quieter — intention, legacy, and spaces that feel rooted. Because true luxury isn’t about what shines. It’s about what stays.

Luxury is Not Marble. It is Meaning.

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Have you ever let your eyes rest on something for a second longer? Not a glance. Not a scan. Just a linger. I’ve been thinking about how much we miss because we’re always moving — racing office time, chasing deadlines, living in “morning mode.” But when you pause, even briefly, the ordinary begins to reveal metaphors. Children playing hopscotch on broken pavements. The shift in energy between the morning rush and the evening return. Clouds that look suspiciously like spaceships if you stare at them long enough. It’s fascinating how many stories hide in plain sight — waiting for someone to notice. I wrote a short piece about this idea — about attention, pace, pareidolia, and the metaphors life quietly places at every turn. If this resonates, read the complete blog here:

Finding stories in the mundane

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It's my 5 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

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My Writing Routine

Creating Magic Between 9–5 Responsibilities Clock reads 9:25 a.m.My day has officially begun — not with poetry, but with subject lines, campaign briefs, and mails marked urgent. Creativity, in this world, arrives wearing formals.I write, not for myself, but for paychecks. I do not have the luxury of a writer’s morning. No sunlit desk by a window. No steaming mug of artisanal coffee. No vintage…

My Writing Routine

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Pages over Pixels

Once upon a time, our parents warned us about the television. “Bokabaksho” — the idiot box — that’s what they called it, convinced it would steal our hours and slowly dull our minds. Years later, the screen has only grown smaller and smarter. The television now sits quietly in the corner, while the real glow now comes from the rectangles in our palms. Ironically, this very generation that…

Pages over Pixels

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If you could give your 10-year-old self one book, what would it be?

I was never an early reader. My journey into the world of fairy tales started with my grandfather. I preferred his baritone voice to turning pages. His “Once upon a time…” somehow immediately transported me to the world of fairies and talking bears. Some of my fondest memories are wandering the bookstore with him, picking the most brightly illustrated books for him to read out to me. Dadu, as I…

If you could give your 10-year-old self one book, what would it be?

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Dadu

My journey with storytelling began with my grandfather—my dadu. He is the reason I am who I am today. A stubby, bald gentleman with a perpetually sweet smile, dadu was adored by all. His mischievous streak and infamous workplace pranks only added to his charm. But my fondest memories of him are our nightly storytelling sessions. After finishing my homework, dadu and I would carefully pick out…

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Raise your voice

Every time I felt a lingering stare on my bosom, I instinctively looked down to check whether my clothes looked inappropriate. Every time a stranger’s hand grazed my bottom, I moved away trying to get as far as I can from his reach. Every time I was assaulted, I thought the fault was mine. Maybe I gave them some indication. I felt dirty everytime someone rubbed their pelvis against me. Every time…

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The Shiny One

Chapter 5 Meet my Light The Shiny One and the Little One walked toward a white, fluffy cottage perched atop a cloud. “It’s beautiful. It looks just like a bounce house!” chirped the Little One, clutching her hands together. “What is a bounce house?” asked the Shiny One. “Well, it is a house you bounce up and down on for fun. Just like this.” The Little One jumped from one cloud to another,…

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The Shiny One

Chapter 4 I can float? The Shiny One was a fair as rose and her hair was as white as snow. She was as small as the Little One. She glowed like a star. She floated up to the Little One and chimed, “Welcome to my home.” “You can fly?” asked the Little One, her expression awed. “Yes. We all fly here. In fact you can fly too,” smiled the Shiny One. “I can?!” The Little One’s eyes shone…

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The Shiny One

Chapter 3 Count one, two, three and jump! “The Shiny One!” the girl whispered, her eyes growing wide with excitement. “Did… s-she send you?” stuttered the Little Girl. The clouds nodded. “Why?” she wondered. “The Shiny One wants to meet you.” “Me? How? She is high up in the sky, and I am down low.” “Oh, don’t worry. Mr. Big Cloud here will carry you to her.” “I cannot go right now. Mamma…

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The Shiny One

Chapter 2 We come bearing news! “Do you think she’s scared?” the little girl asked. “No,” said the mother. She held her little girl close. The child snuggled in her lap. “Do you see those passing clouds?” the mother asked, pointing at the white fluff drifting by. “Yes,” whispered the little one, her eyes shining with curiosity. “Those clouds are her friends. They look after her. They keep…

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The Shiny One

A little girl is curious. Why is the shiny one hiding under the blanket with a torch? Is she scared? She explains it to her mother how the shiny one is hiding under the big blue blanket.

Chapter 1 She is Hiding, Mamma! “She shines so bright. Look at her, Mamma! She shines so bright!” quipped the little girl, pointing at the star shining outside her window. “Oh yes, she does.” the mother smiled fondly at her child. Her innocent quips and questions always amused her. “Do you think she is scared?” asked the little girl, her little pudgy hands resting on her chubby cheeks,…

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