Prashant Kumar Lal , Author, Recipient of Shiksha Rattan Award - 2007,
Mr Prashant is a seasoned educator and author with years of experience in school administration and classroom teaching. Having served as a Principal, he brings a wealth of knowledge on effective teaching practices and classroom management. He is also the author of several books, including "Image of my Experiences - a book of poetry," "Speeches from the Desk of the Principal," and "The Legend of Inara Wali." Now retired and residing in Bangalore, he
continues blogging etc
What’s the first book you ever finished and still remember to this day?
Black Beauty: The First Book That Galloped into My Heart
Books come and go in our lives. Some are read and forgotten, while others leave hoofprints upon the sands of memory that time can never erase. When I look back upon my journey as a reader, one book stands tall among the many volumes that have crossed my path—Black Beauty by Anna Sewell. It was the first book I finished from cover to cover, and decades later, its gentle voice still echoes in my heart.
As a young boy growing up amidst the hills and valleys, books were precious companions. They opened windows to worlds beyond the horizon and introduced me to characters who became lifelong friends. Among them, Black Beauty was not merely a horse; he was a storyteller, a philosopher, and a silent teacher.
What fascinated me most was that the story was narrated by the horse himself.
Through Black Beauty’s eyes, I witnessed kindness and cruelty, comfort and hardship, joy and sorrow. The novel taught me that every living creature has feelings, fears, hopes, and a longing for dignity. It was perhaps my first lesson in empathy.
Anna Sewell wrote the book not merely as a story but as a plea for compassion towards animals. The message was simple yet profound: strength should never be misused, and kindness costs nothing. Even as a child, I could feel the pain of the horses who were overworked and mistreated.
Their suffering stirred something within me and awakened a sense of responsibility towards all living beings.
Looking back today, I realise that Black Beauty was much more than a children’s novel. It was a mirror reflecting human nature. Some characters treated animals with gentleness and respect, while others viewed them merely as tools. The same contrast exists in our dealings with fellow human beings. The book quietly taught me that character is revealed not by how we treat the powerful but by how we treat those who depend upon us.
Life has taken me through many seasons—student, teacher, principal, consultant, author, husband, father, and grandfather. I have read countless books on science, philosophy, education, religion, and literature. Yet Black Beauty remains special because it was my first literary journey completed successfully. It gave me the confidence that I could finish a book and understand its message. In many ways, it opened the gate to a lifelong love affair with reading.
There is an old saying: “The first cut is the deepest.” In the world of books, the first memorable read often leaves the deepest impression. For me, that honour belongs to Black Beauty. Its pages nurtured values that no classroom lesson could fully teach—compassion, gratitude, patience, and respect for life.
Today, whenever I see a horse, I remember Black Beauty. Whenever I encounter kindness, I recall the gentle hands that cared for him. And whenever I witness injustice, I remember his silent suffering. Such is the enduring power of a great book.
The years may have flown by like leaves in the wind, but the memory of that noble black horse continues to trot faithfully through the corridors of my mind. Some books are read once and shelved forever. Others become trusted companions for life. Black Beauty belongs to the latter category.
And perhaps that is the greatest compliment a reader can offer a book—that after all these years, one still remembers not only the story, but also the lessons it carried and the emotions it awakened.
The first book I finished was not merely a book; it was the beginning of a lifelong journey into the wonderful world of reading.
In life, we receive countless pieces of advice. Some are wrapped in motivational speeches, some arrive through books and scriptures, and some come casually over a cup of tea from people who may never realise the impact of their words. Most advice fades with time, like chalk washed away by rain. But occasionally, one sentence remains lodged in the heart for decades.
The most profound advice I was ever given came from an elderly teacher during the early years of my professional life. I was frustrated, overworked, emotionally exhausted, and quietly disappointed with the world around me. I had expected sincerity to be rewarded quickly, hard work to be noticed immediately, and relationships to remain loyal forever. Reality, however, had different plans.
That elderly gentleman looked at me and said quietly:
“Do not expect life to be fair every day. Just make sure you remain fair as a human being.”
At that moment, I nodded politely without fully understanding the depth of what he meant. Years later, I realised that those words contained an entire philosophy of survival.
The real world is not designed like moral science textbooks. Merit does not always win. Honest people are sometimes ignored while louder voices occupy the stage. Offices are filled with politics. Families occasionally fracture over property, ego, or misunderstanding.
Friendships weaken without explanation. Even social media has created a strange age where appearances often matter more than authenticity.
One may spend years building trust and lose it within minutes because of rumours or assumptions.
I have seen capable teachers struggle financially after retirement while less dedicated individuals prosper through connections. I have seen parents sacrifice everything for children and later sit silently in empty rooms waiting for a phone call. I have seen educated people behave without wisdom and simple villagers display extraordinary humanity.
Life slowly removes our illusions one by one.
There was a time when such realities made me deeply restless. I questioned why integrity seemed like a burden in a world increasingly driven by convenience and self-interest. During difficult phases, especially after retirement, I too experienced moments of invisibility. A person who once addressed assemblies, guided institutions, trained teachers, and inspired students suddenly becomes “retired” — as though experience itself has expired.
The world respects utility more than memory. That truth hurts.
In earlier days, neighbours sat together in courtyards discussing life till late evening. Today, even family members sitting in the same room are often lost inside mobile screens. Technology has connected continents but quietly widened emotional distances. Many elderly people today are not suffering from disease as much as from irrelevance and loneliness.
In such a world, bitterness becomes tempting.
One begins comparing. One starts counting betrayals. One replays old injustices repeatedly in the mind. But then I remember that advice:
“Just make sure you remain fair as a human being.”
That sentence prevented me from becoming cynical. I did not follow it perfectly every day. There were occasions when anger overtook patience and disappointment overshadowed optimism. I am human after all. But I kept returning to that principle whenever life became emotionally heavy. I continued helping students even after retirement. I continued writing even when readership fluctuated. I continued encouraging others despite my own uncertainties. I continued believing that dignity matters more than popularity.
Perhaps that is what maturity truly means — not becoming emotionless, but learning not to allow disappointment to poison character.
History repeatedly reminds us of this truth. Great individuals were rarely given comfortable lives. faced humiliation and imprisonment. faced repeated failures before leadership. spent decades in prison. Yet they did not allow suffering to reduce their humanity.
Ordinary people around us do the same quietly every day.
The bus conductor working double shifts to educate his daughter. The mother hiding her illness so the family does not worry. The retired teacher giving free tuition to poor children. The farmer smiling despite uncertain rains.
These are the unnoticed philosophers of the real world.
Today, when younger people ask me about success, I no longer speak only about ambition, salary, or achievement. I tell them that life eventually tests not merely intelligence but emotional endurance. Degrees may secure employment, but values sustain relationships. Efficiency may earn promotions, but kindness earns remembrance.
The world does not desperately need cleverer people. It needs more dependable human beings.
Looking back now, I realise that the advice I received did not make my life easier. It made my perspective steadier. It taught me that while we cannot control how the world behaves every day, we can still choose how we respond to it.
And in an age where outrage spreads faster than compassion, remaining fair, humane, and balanced may itself be a silent revolution. Perhaps that is why some advice outlives applause, achievements, and even time itself.
Money, they say, cannot buy happiness. Yet, if wisely used, it can certainly buy relief, opportunity, dignity, and hope. If Providence were to place an unlimited budget at my disposal for merely twenty-four hours, I would not spend the day counting currencies or decorating my life with luxuries. Instead, I would treat those precious hours as a divine assignment — a brief stewardship entrusted to me for the welfare of humanity.
After all, wealth is not measured by what we possess, but by what we can give away without regret.
The first few hours of my day would begin with feeding the hungry. Across the world, millions sleep on empty stomachs while banquet halls glitter under chandeliers. I would establish massive community kitchens in villages, towns, and urban slums where no child, widow, labourer, or abandoned soul would remain hungry. Food is not merely a necessity; it is the first language of compassion. As the ancient Indian philosophy says, “अन्नदानम् महादानम्” — offering food is the greatest charity.
Thereafter, my attention would turn towards education, the lamp that removes the darkness of generations. Having spent nearly four decades in the field of education, I have witnessed how talent often suffocates under poverty. I would establish schools and libraries in remote corners where children still study under trees or by the dim light of kerosene lamps.
Every child would receive books, digital access, uniforms, trained teachers, and opportunities to dream without fear. Education should never become a privilege reserved for the fortunate few.
Simultaneously, I would create healthcare facilities for the poor. In many parts of the world, illness does not merely attack the body; it destroys the finances and morale of entire families. Hospitals equipped with modern facilities, mobile clinics for villages, free medicines for senior citizens, and emotional support centres for the lonely would become my immediate priority. A civilisation can never be called truly developed if its weakest citizens suffer unattended.
If time permitted, I would also invest heavily in environmental restoration. Rivers are gasping for breath, forests are shrinking, and cities are turning into concrete jungles. I would initiate massive afforestation drives, rejuvenate dying water bodies, and encourage sustainable living. Nature has always whispered wisdom to humanity, but mankind often listens only after disasters knock at the door.
Yet, amidst all these grand plans, I would reserve a deeply personal portion of those twenty-four hours. I would gather my family — my wife, children, and beloved grandchildren — around one table filled not merely with delicacies but with laughter, music, stories, and gratitude. For in the final analysis, relationships remain the true currency of life. A man may own the world and still feel impoverished if love is absent from his home.
I would also spend some moments in prayer and silence. Unlimited wealth without wisdom can become a dangerous storm. History is filled with emperors who conquered nations but failed to conquer greed within themselves. Therefore, I would seek divine guidance to ensure that every action carried purpose rather than pride.
And yes, perhaps for a brief while, I would travel — not in search of luxury, but in search of wonder. I would revisit mountains, rivers, monasteries, churches, temples, and villages that shaped my philosophy of life. I would sit quietly beside nature and thank God for the extraordinary privilege of being alive.
As the clock approached the end of those twenty-four hours, I would not measure success by how much money had been spent, but by how many tears had been wiped away. Wealth, after all, is temporary; impact is eternal.
The real tragedy of humanity is not the absence of resources but the absence of compassionate distribution. If every wealthy heart carried even a fraction of empathy, the world would become far more humane.
Unlimited money for one day may sound like a fantasy, yet unlimited kindness can become a daily reality. In the end, life is not about how much we accumulate, but about how deeply we touch the lives of others.
For when the curtains finally fall upon the stage of life, neither bank balances nor possessions accompany us — only our deeds echo in eternity.
Life, they say, is not merely a journey from cradle to grave; it is a grand stage upon which every soul performs its allotted role. Some enter with trumpets and celebration, while others walk quietly through the corridors of existence like a soft evening breeze. Yet, in the finale of life, one question silently echoes within every human heart — will the world remember me with affection, or will life move on without a whisper?
As age advances and the shadows grow longer upon the road behind us, the mind often wanders into philosophical alleys. One begins to measure achievements, relationships, sacrifices, victories, and even failures. The youthful race for fame, wealth, and recognition slowly loses its glitter, much like autumn leaves surrendering to the inevitable call of winter.
What remains then is not the loudness of our success, but the depth of our humanity.
The finale of life is rarely about possessions. No one carries titles, properties, or bank balances into eternity. History, philosophy, and spirituality repeatedly remind us that human beings are remembered not for what they accumulated, but for what they gave away — kindness, wisdom, courage, compassion, and love. Even in the Indian epics, kings and warriors eventually fade into dust, yet their virtues continue to illuminate generations like lamps in a darkened temple.
One may depart surrounded by family, friends, prayers, and tears. Another may leave quietly, almost unnoticed by society. Yet the true measure of a life does not lie in the crowd gathered at the funeral, but in the silent blessings carried in the hearts of people touched along the way. A teacher lives on in the success of students; a parent survives in the values of children; a friend remains alive in cherished memories. In this sense, death never truly defeats a meaningful life.
The modern world, however, often pushes individuals into loneliness and emotional exile. Relationships have become fragile, conversations mechanical, and affection increasingly digital. Many elderly people today fear not death itself, but irrelevance — the painful feeling of becoming an “old chapter” in a rapidly changing world. Yet wisdom teaches us that sunsets are as beautiful as sunrises. The evening of life possesses a grace that youth seldom understands.
Philosophers from the East and West have repeatedly spoken of detachment. The Bhagavad Gita reminds humanity to perform duties without obsession over results, while thinkers like Socrates and Marcus Aurelius viewed death not as an end, but as a natural transition. Even the Bible gently whispers, “For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.” Yet between those two moments of dust lies the opportunity to become a blessing to others.
Perhaps, then, the finale of life should not frighten us. Whether accompanied by applause or silence, every life leaves behind invisible footprints. The important thing is not whether the world stands still after our departure, but whether we lived truthfully while we were here.
For in the end, life is much like a candle in the wind — fragile, flickering, and temporary. But even a small candle has the power to light another before it fades away. And perhaps that alone is enough.
The modern world often appears glittering and technologically invincible, yet three humble forces quietly decide whether nations prosper or panic — Forex, fertiliser and fuel.
When these three pillars wobble, governments lose sleep, markets tremble, and common households begin counting every coin before buying bread, rice, vegetables or milk. Across continents, from bustling metropolitan cities to remote villages, the “hue and cry” over these essentials has become impossible to ignore.
The world today is tied together like beads in one long thread. A disturbance in one corner of the globe sends ripples across oceans. Wars, sanctions, trade restrictions, climate disasters, political instability and speculative markets have transformed these three sectors into pressure cookers ready to whistle at any moment.
The Foreign Exchange Storm
Foreign exchange, commonly known as Forex, is the lifeblood of international trade. Every nation depends upon foreign currencies, especially the US Dollar, to import goods, repay debts and stabilise its economy.
When the domestic currency weakens against the Dollar, the nation begins to feel the heat.
A country importing crude oil, machinery, fertilisers, medicines or electronics suddenly has to pay much more. Governments then either increase prices, borrow heavily, or dip into precious reserves. Inflation quietly enters the marketplace like an uninvited guest.
For ordinary citizens, the effects become painfully visible:
– Imported goods become expensive.
– Air travel costs rise.
– Education abroad becomes difficult.
– Medicines and electronic gadgets burn holes in pockets.
– Savings lose purchasing power.
The middle class feels squeezed between stagnant salaries and rising expenses. The poor suffer silently as food prices climb higher day after day. It becomes a classic case of “robbing Peter to pay Paul.”
Developing countries are especially vulnerable because many already carry heavy debts. If their currencies collapse sharply, economic instability may follow.
History has repeatedly shown how currency crises can topple governments and push millions below the poverty line overnight.
Fuel: The Fire Behind Every Economy
Fuel is not merely petrol or diesel poured into vehicles. It is the invisible engine running civilisation itself. Factories, transportation, aviation, agriculture, electricity generation and even internet infrastructure depend heavily upon fuel. When crude oil prices rise globally, everything else follows suit like dominoes falling one after another.
A truck transporting vegetables from villages to cities requires diesel. Airlines require aviation fuel. Fishing boats need petrol. Farmers need fuel for irrigation pumps and tractors.
Industries require power generation. Thus, fuel inflation spreads into every corner of daily life.
The consequences are enormous:
– Public transport fares rise.
– Food prices increase.
– Manufacturing slows down.
– Businesses cut jobs.
– Electricity becomes costlier.
– Economic growth weakens.
The common household feels trapped. Cooking gas cylinders become expensive. Families begin reducing travel. Small businesses struggle to survive. Even school-going children indirectly suffer when transportation and stationery costs rise.
In poorer nations, fuel shortages can create chaos. Long queues outside petrol pumps become symbols of national distress. Social unrest, protests and strikes soon follow. One can clearly see that fuel is no longer merely an economic issue; it has become a social and political weapon.
Fertiliser: The Silent Guardian of Food Security
If fuel runs the economy, fertiliser feeds humanity. Modern agriculture depends heavily upon fertilisers to maintain crop yields. Any disruption in fertiliser supply immediately threatens food production. Countries dependent upon imports become especially vulnerable when global prices rise or supply chains collapse.
Recent geopolitical conflicts and export restrictions have worsened the crisis. Natural gas, which is essential for producing many fertilisers, has itself become expensive due to global energy tensions. Consequently, fertiliser prices have soared.
The chain reaction is alarming:
– Farmers spend more on cultivation.
– Crop production declines.
– Food prices increase.
– Rural debt deepens.
– Governments spend more on subsidies.
For farmers already battling uncertain monsoons and climate change, rising fertiliser costs are like adding fuel to the fire. Some reduce usage, which lowers productivity. Others fall into debt traps. Ultimately, consumers pay higher prices for grains, fruits and vegetables.
A simple plate of food on the dining table is therefore connected to global fertiliser politics more than most people realise.
The Interconnection Nobody Can Escape
Interestingly, Forex, fertiliser and fuel are deeply interconnected.
– Fuel prices affect fertiliser production.
– Forex rates affect fuel imports.
– Fertiliser shortages affect food prices.
– Food inflation affects political stability.
– Political instability affects foreign investment and currency strength.
It is a vicious cycle. One crack in the chain weakens the entire structure.
This is why economists, governments and international organisations constantly monitor these sectors. They are not isolated concerns but arteries of the global economy.
Impact on a Common Household
For the average family, economic theories mean little. Reality is experienced through shrinking grocery bags, rising school fees and unpaid bills.
Households across the world are now forced to:
– Reduce savings.
– Delayed medical treatment.
– Cut down travel and recreation.
– Compromise on nutrition.
– Postpone education plans.
– Borrow money for daily needs.
Mental stress also rises sharply. Financial insecurity creates anxiety, family conflicts and emotional exhaustion. The phrase “making ends meet” has become a daily struggle for millions.
Retired citizens, salaried employees, farmers and small traders feel the burden most acutely because their incomes rarely rise at the same speed as inflation.
Possible Remedies and Hope Ahead
Despite the gloom, nations are searching for solutions:
– Investing in renewable energy.
– Encouraging local fertiliser production.
– Strengthening domestic manufacturing.
– Diversifying foreign exchange reserves.
– Promoting sustainable agriculture.
– Reducing unnecessary imports.
Citizens too are adapting by conserving fuel, supporting local products and becoming financially cautious.
Human civilisation has survived wars, famines and economic collapses before. The present crisis too shall pass, though not without lessons. Perhaps the world is being reminded that true prosperity does not merely lie in skyscrapers and stock markets, but in stable food systems, energy security and balanced economies.
Forex, fertiliser and fuel may sound like technical economic terms, yet they shape the destiny of nations and the dignity of ordinary homes. When these pillars become unstable, the entire world feels the tremors.
The cry heard across the globe today is not merely about economics; it is about survival, stability and human resilience. In many ways, humanity stands at a crossroads where wisdom, cooperation and sustainable policies will decide whether future generations inherit abundance or anxiety.
As the old saying goes, “A stitch in time saves nine.” The world can no longer afford to ignore these warning bells ringing across markets, farms and households alike.
In a world overflowing with advice, opinions, motivational speeches, and endless lectures, one of the rarest gifts a human being can receive is simple presence. The image beautifully says, “Real friends don’t give advice. They sit with you, talk nonsense, and somehow, you feel better.”
How true, how deep, and how comforting these words are!
Life is not always a bed of roses. Sometimes it becomes a rough sea where the waves of anxiety, loneliness, failures, ageing, misunderstandings, and silent tears toss us around mercilessly. During such moments, people often rush to offer solutions. Some become philosophers overnight, while others behave like judges sitting in a courtroom of morality. Yet, strangely enough, their words often fail to heal the aching heart.
A true friend behaves differently.
A real friend may not possess extraordinary wisdom or magical answers. They may not quote great philosophers or deliver polished sermons. Instead, they sit beside you with a cup of tea, crack silly jokes, discuss utterly meaningless things, laugh at old memories, and quietly allow your storm to settle.
Their companionship becomes a soothing balm upon wounded emotions. Like gentle rain upon parched earth, their presence alone refreshes the tired soul. There is an old saying: “Shared sorrow becomes half, and shared joy becomes double.” Genuine friendship works exactly in this manner. Sometimes healing does not come through solutions but through silent solidarity.
Human hearts are strange; they do not always seek correction — they seek connection.
In today’s digital age, thousands of contacts live inside our phones, yet meaningful companionship is becoming as scarce as rain in a desert. Social media gives reactions but not reassurance. People are quick to comment but slow to listen. Many friendships have become transactional, measured by convenience, status, or usefulness.
However, true friendship still survives quietly in humble corners of life — in late-night conversations, unexpected phone calls, shared laughter, and comforting silence.
The beauty of authentic friendship lies in its freedom from judgement. A true friend does not constantly analyse your mistakes like a school examiner checking answer sheets. They understand your broken sentences, unfinished thoughts, and hidden pain. They know when to speak and when silence itself becomes sacred.
As age advances, one real friend becomes more precious than a hundred acquaintances. Wealth may vanish, fame may fade, health may decline, but sincere companionship remains a lighthouse during life’s darkest storms. Such friendships are not built overnight; they are woven slowly with trust, loyalty, patience, forgiveness, and countless shared experiences. Even history and literature celebrate such bonds. From Krishna and Sudama to David and Jonathan, friendship has always symbolised emotional refuge and human strength. These relationships remind us that companionship is not about constant advice; it is about standing beside someone when life becomes unbearably heavy.
Perhaps that is why some of the happiest moments in life are often the simplest — sitting under a tree, sharing roadside tea, laughing over nonsense, recalling old memories, or merely watching the evening sky together. No agenda. No judgement. No lectures. Just presence.
And sometimes, that presence saves a life quietly without making any noise.
In the end, true friendship is not about fixing people. It is about reminding them gently that they are not alone in their journey.
Fear and self-doubt are silent companions that walk beside almost every human being. They arrive uninvited — before an examination, during a difficult conversation, at the beginning of a new journey, or even in the stillness of midnight when memories begin to whisper. They are like dark clouds hovering over the mind, making even capable people question their worth.
Yet fear is not always an enemy. Sometimes it is merely a warning bell reminding us that we are standing at the edge of growth. A sailor never learns the strength of his vessel in calm waters. Likewise, a person never discovers inner courage while remaining forever inside the comfort zone.
Self-doubt, however, becomes dangerous when it turns into a permanent resident of the mind. It slowly chips away confidence, drains enthusiasm, and makes one feel as though every step forward is a leap into uncertainty. Many talented people bury their dreams simply because they believe they are “not good enough”. In reality, the tallest trees too begin as fragile saplings trembling in the wind.
How then should one react to fear and self-doubt?
First, acknowledge them honestly instead of running away from them. Pretending to be fearless is like sweeping dust under the carpet; it never truly disappears. Speak to yourself kindly. A wounded mind needs encouragement, not punishment.
Secondly, act despite the fear. Courage does not mean the absence of fear; it means moving ahead while the heart still trembles. Even a small step taken with determination can break the chains of hesitation. As the old saying goes, “Fortune favours the brave.”
Thirdly, avoid comparing your life endlessly with others. Comparison is often the thief of joy. Every individual carries a different story, different wounds, and different timings in life. A river does not compete with the mountain; both possess their own beauty and purpose.
Most importantly, keep faith in your experiences and struggles. The storms you have survived are proof that you are stronger than you think. Life has a peculiar way of polishing human beings through hardship, just as fire purifies gold.
Fear and self-doubt may knock at the door of the mind, but they need not become masters of the soul.
With patience, perseverance, and self-belief, even the darkest tunnel eventually opens towards light. After all, dawn arrives quietly — but it always arrives.
