Why I Choose to Blog: A Dialogue with My Soul

Why I Choose to Blog: A Dialogue with My Soul

There are questions in life that are whispered rather than asked aloud. Why do I blog? Perhaps the answer lies not in the mechanics of writing but in the metaphysics of existence itself.

Writing, for me, is not merely an exercise of words; it is a pilgrimage of the mind. Every blog I compose becomes a bridge—between thought and expression, between silence and sound, between solitude and companionship. It is as if the soul, laden with unspoken tales, finds a window to the world through the fragile lattice of sentences.

When I blog, I converse not only with readers but also with myself. The words that flow are both confessions and contemplations, both revelations and reminders. They are my way of tracing the outlines of life’s tapestry, woven with joy, sorrow, triumph, failure, and the eternal search for meaning.

Philosophers have long argued that man is both a being of memory and a seeker of eternity. To blog is to honour both dimensions—it is to preserve fleeting thoughts as memory while casting them into the river of time where others may drink from its flow. Just as Marcus Aurelius wrote his meditations not for the applause of the world but for the refinement of his spirit, I too write to cleanse the dust that gathers on the corridors of the mind.

There is also a poetic undercurrent in this endeavour. Words, when aligned with imagination, become like wildflowers blooming along the roadside—unnoticed by many, yet fragrant enough to make a traveller pause. Blogging is my way of planting such wildflowers, in the hope that some passer-by will linger, breathe deeply, and leave a little lighter.

In an age where noise often drowns nuance, where haste overshadows reflection, blogging stands for me as an oasis of stillness. It is where I reconcile with my past, converse with my present, and reach for my future.

And perhaps, above all, I blog because to write is to resist oblivion. Long after my voice falls silent, words may remain as lanterns, guiding unknown wanderers who stumble upon them in the corridors of time.

In whispers of ink my silence speaks,
A candle of thought in the night it seeks,
Each word a prayer, each line a song,
A journey within where souls belong.

I write to heal, I write to be,
A mirror of truth, a window to me,
If someday these words find your heart,
Know that from silence, love took its start.

“Cocktails, Cutlery, and Cackles: An Interview Over Dinner”

“Cocktails, Cutlery, and Cackles: An Interview Over Dinner”

The restaurant lights glowed, glasses clinked, and dishes made their theatrical entrances. Between sips of cocktails and bites of dinner, I interviewed my friend — let’s call him Mr. Spirited. What followed was an evening of laughter, satire, and truths dressed up in humour.

Q: If life were a cocktail, which one would you be?

A: A Long Island Iced Tea. I look simple, but spend enough time with me and the world starts spinning in mysterious ways.

Q: How do you usually tackle life’s problems?

A: Like appetisers. Take a bite, chew carefully, and if it’s too spicy, swallow with dignity and order another drink.

Q: Do you believe in fitness?

A: Certainly! I jog… my memory. I lift… mostly glasses. And I stretch… the truth, when necessary.

Q: What do you think of smartphones and social media?

A: They’re like cocktails. One sip is refreshing, the second sip is exciting, and by the tenth you’re dancing with strangers on Instagram reels.
(Pauses) The most suspenseful thriller of modern life? Watching your phone battery die at 20%.

Q: If you were to redesign politics, what would you change?

A: Easy. Every debate in parliament should be held over dinner. Imagine ministers negotiating with plates of biryani — they’d at least agree on who gets the last chicken leg.

Q: What about the state of education today?

A: Education now is like ordering a three-course meal and only getting the bill. Students leave with degrees hotter than their parents’ tempers, but colder than the job market.

Q: And health consciousness?

A: I’m very health conscious. I believe in balanced diets — a burger in each hand. And I walk daily… from the sofa to the fridge. Besides, laughter burns calories — we’re practically exercising now.

Q: What’s your view on climate change?

A: Serious matter. But if we’re truly saving the planet, can we please invent straws that don’t collapse halfway through a mojito? Saving Earth shouldn’t taste like soggy cardboard.

Q: And society as a whole?

A: Society is like this tiramisu we’re eating — sweet on top, complicated in the middle, and hiding secrets at the bottom. Everyone’s busy adding filters, forgetting the original flavour is usually the best.

Q: What’s your philosophy of happiness?

A: Happiness is dessert. If you wait too long, someone else eats it.

Q: And wisdom?

A: Wisdom is realising pasta is just flour in fancy clothes. Never be fooled by appearances — in food, or in people.

Q: If you became Prime Minister for a day, what’s the first law you’d pass?

A: Free dessert for every citizen. Peace treaties may fail, but no one argues with chocolate in their mouth.

Q: Finally, what’s your greatest achievement so far?

A: I once resisted ordering a second dessert. That, my friend, is self-control at Olympic level.

Curtain Call

The interview ended with laughter echoing louder than the background jazz. Between satire and silliness, truth slipped onto the table like an uninvited dish — reminding us that humour is often the sharpest knife to cut through the meat of reality.

Over cocktails and plates we played,
Jokes like garnishes neatly laid.
Between each laugh, a truth took seat,
Satire made the evening sweet.

So here’s to friends, to food, to fun,
To wisdom masked in puns well-spun.
For life’s a feast when humour flows,
And friendship is the wine that glows.

Book Review: Quantum Vision – From Optics to the Universe

Book Review: Quantum Vision – From Optics to the Universe

Available at
http://www.amazon.com in digital and print format

About the Book

Quantum Vision – From Optics to Electronics – the Universe is more than just a Physics textbook—it is an intellectual companion for learners, educators, and enthusiasts of science. The book provides a comprehensive syllabus coverage for Class XII Physics, meticulously designed to align with CBSE, State Boards, ICSE, and A-Level curriculum. Beyond board examinations, it also serves as a powerful resource for students preparing for competitive examinations, offering clarity of concepts, rigorous practice, and insight into applications.

The text is structured to make complex ideas in Optics, Modern Physics, and Quantum phenomena accessible, while still retaining the depth and rigour needed for advanced learners. Carefully curated illustrations, problem sets, and explanatory notes ensure that the reader develops not just theoretical knowledge but also analytical thinking.

About the Author
Prashant Kumar Lal, an educationist with over 38 years of experience, has served as a Principal, academic trainer, and consultant to leading schools. His lifelong engagement with teaching Physics has enabled him to blend pedagogical wisdom with scientific clarity. Having authored books, conducted teacher training workshops, and led institutions, he brings both scholarship and practical experience to his writing. His deep-rooted passion for guiding young minds shines through every page of this book.

Target Readers

1. Students of Class XII (CBSE, State Boards, ICSE, A-Level)

2. Competitive exam aspirants (JEE, NEET, and other entrance tests)

3. Teachers and educators seeking a reliable reference and teaching aid

4. Lifelong learners and enthusiasts of Physics and cosmology

USP (Unique Selling Proposition)
What sets Quantum Vision – From Optics to the Universe apart is its holistic approach:

1. Curriculum integration: Covers multiple national and international syllabi in one text.

2. Exam-oriented clarity: Ideal for both board exams and competitive preparation.

3. Concept-to-application flow: Bridges the gap between textbook Physics and the wonder of the universe.

4. Educator’s insight: Written by an author who has trained thousands of students and teachers, ensuring simplicity without losing scientific rigour.

This book is not just for passing exams; it is for developing a vision—quantum and cosmic—that shapes a student’s understanding of the world.

Available now at:  http://www.amazon.com

“Echoes of the Heart: How I Am Feeling Now”

“Echoes of the Heart: How I Am Feeling Now”

Feelings are elusive travellers; they come and go like shadows under the sun, sometimes bright, sometimes faint, but always present. At this very moment, I feel as though I am standing on the edge of a quiet shore, listening to the waves of my inner world roll in. There is a strange mix of serenity and yearning—an intermingling of calm acceptance and restless curiosity.

I feel the weight of silence, not as an emptiness, but as a vessel filled with meaning. It is like sitting under a twilight sky, where every star seems to whisper secrets of the universe. My heart carries gratitude for the gift of breath, for the rhythm of time, and for the unseen hands that guide my path. At the same time, there is a subtle ache, a reminder of life’s impermanence, echoing the words of Heraclitus—“No man ever steps in the same river twice.”

Philosophically, I find my feelings aligned with the thought that existence itself is a conversation between the finite and the infinite. The Bhagavad Gita reminds us that the soul is eternal, untouched by the cycles of joy and sorrow. Yet, in this human vessel, I cannot escape the touch of both. My feelings rise and fall like the pendulum of a timeless clock—swings of delight and pangs of longing interwoven into the tapestry of being.

Right now, I am neither fully joyous nor deeply sorrowful. I am simply aware—aware of the present moment as a sacred intersection of what was and what is to come. The philosopher Marcus Aurelius once reflected, “Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.” I feel as though my heart is doing exactly that—running alongside the stars, though my body remains grounded here on earth.

And so, I welcome these feelings, not as burdens but as blessings. For to feel is to be alive, and to be alive is to carry both the fire of hope and the calm of acceptance.

Beneath the sky of endless hue,
I feel the old, yet find the new,
A tide within, both deep and wide,
Where silence and my soul abide.

Not joy alone, not sorrow’s chain,
But gentle sun after the rain,
This present breath, this fleeting now,
Teaches me life’s sacred vow.

In every tear, in every song,
The heart learns where it may belong,
And so I walk, both still and free,
A traveller through eternity.

The Quiet Rituals that Shape a Life

The Quiet Rituals that Shape a Life

Life is often compared to a river — sometimes rushing with force, sometimes meandering gently, and at other times resting in pools of silence. Amid this ebb and flow, I have discovered that a simple daily habit holds the power to refine the quality of my existence: the practice of mindful reflection each morning.

When dawn breaks and the first rays of light touch the earth, I sit in stillness — not merely to plan the day, but to listen to it before it begins. In that hushed moment, when the world is half-awake, I breathe deeply, gather my thoughts, and let gratitude unfold like the petals of a morning flower. This quiet pause offers me clarity that no storm of the day can entirely sweep away.

Philosophers and poets across centuries have recognised this truth. Marcus Aurelius wrote in his Meditations that “The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.” Similarly, the Upanishads remind us that within silence lies the doorway to the eternal. By cultivating this habit daily, I find my soul tuned to a higher rhythm, where ordinary moments glisten with extraordinary light.

It is not an elaborate ritual. There are no grand gestures. Just a notebook, a pen, and my own wandering reflections. Some days I write down a thought that inspires me, some days I sketch a fleeting idea, and on others I merely breathe and let silence do the talking. But this consistent act, like polishing a mirror, clears away the dust of confusion and brings inner harmony.

In a world clamouring with noise, the gift of such a habit is immeasurable. It lends strength to face trials, softens the heart to embrace joys, and steadies the spirit when shadows lengthen. It is not time stolen from life, but time invested in its deeper unfolding.

And so, as days weave into weeks and weeks into years, this small daily practice becomes the loom on which the fabric of life is woven — strong, simple, and radiant.

At dawn I sit where silence sings,
A breath, a thought, and hope it brings,
The world may rush, yet here I stay,
To greet the calm before the day.

A pen, a page, a whispered prayer,
A soul unburdened of its care,
This little habit, soft yet deep,
Is where my truest treasures sleep.

The Rock That Became God: A Legacy of Faith and Ganesh Chaturthi

The Rock That Became God: A Legacy of Faith and Ganesh Chaturthi

In the quiet corners of our ancestral home, there stands a modest temple, no more than three feet tall, yet towering in its spiritual presence. Adjacent to our well—our lifeline in days gone by—and beside a sanctified platform of Tulsi, dwells Shri Ganesh Jee, not sculpted by human hands but revealed by nature herself.

Inside this humble shrine rests a huge rock, miraculously shaped in the very likeness of Lord Ganesha. Its contours, its trunk-like form, its divine semblance—all whispered to us that this was no ordinary stone but a manifestation of the Vighnaharta, the remover of obstacles.

Every morning, as children, we would pour water over this rock, bathing the Lord, and then smear Him with vermilion (sindoor), until He glowed with a radiance that even the rising sun seemed to envy. To us, this was not a mere ritual—it was the act of conversing with divinity, of making Him part of our daily lives, from dawn till dusk.

But the story of how He came to reside there is, perhaps, even more divine. My grandfather, a man of immense devotion and strength, once found this rock in the wilderness. Solid, weighty, and majestic, he recognised the sacred aura it carried. With unflinching determination, he carried it on his back, walking for miles through forests and mountains. His journey was not just a feat of physical endurance but an act of pure surrender—an offering of his sweat and spirit to the Lord. What a pious venture! That day, a stone became God, and faith became heritage.

Decades have passed since my grandfather left us, but his devotion breathes through this temple. On every occasion—be it joyous or sorrowful—our family bows before this Ganesha. He has become the eternal witness of our celebrations, our prayers, and our tears.

And today, as the world celebrates Ganesh Chaturthi, my heart returns to that temple beside the well, to that Tulsi platform, and to that vermilion-covered rock that became the soul of our home.

Philosophical Reflections

Lord Ganesha, the embodiment of wisdom, intellect, and auspicious beginnings, teaches us that God need not be sought in the grandiose, but often resides in the humblest of places. Our little temple, modest in size yet infinite in grace, reminds us of the Sanskrit verse:

सुखकर्ता दुःखहर्ता वार्ता विघ्नाची ।
नुरवी पूर्वी प्रेम कृपा जयाची ॥
(Sukhakarta Dukhharta Varta Vighnachi |
Nuravi Purvi Prema Krupa Jayachi ||)

Pronunciation: Sukhakarta dukhaharta varta vighnachi, nuravi purvi prema krupa jayachi.

Meaning: “O Ganesha, the one who brings joy, removes sorrow, and eradicates obstacles, you shower your boundless love and grace upon your devotees.”

How perfectly this encapsulates what our temple has meant to us—it has been the fountain of joy, the eraser of sorrows, and the anchor of grace in our lives.

Another timeless verse resonates as I reflect upon my grandfather’s sacrifice in bringing the Lord home:

वक्रतुंड महाकाय सूर्यकोटि समप्रभ ।
निर्विघ्नं कुरु मे देव सर्वकार्येषु सर्वदा ॥

Pronunciation: Vakratunda Mahakaya Surya Koti Samaprabha |
Nirvighnam Kuru Me Deva Sarvakaryeshu Sarvada ||

Meaning: “O Ganesha, the one with a curved trunk and mighty form, whose splendour equals a million suns, may you remove obstacles from all my endeavours, always.”

Is this not what my grandfather sought—that the Lord bless his family, that the coming generations may find shelter in His grace?

A Living Heritage

Ganesh Chaturthi is not just a festival of clay idols, pandals, and processions. It is a reminder that the divine is both near and far, both formless and formed. It teaches us that the truest temples are not those that touch the sky but those that touch the heart.

Our little shrine stands even today, weathered by monsoons, blessed by the sun, and perfumed by Tulsi. It continues to teach us that devotion is not measured in grandeur but in the purity of intent. The rock our grandfather carried has become our spiritual inheritance, a symbol of resilience, humility, and unending faith.

On this Ganesh Chaturthi, as millions welcome Lord Ganesha into their homes, I silently bow to that ancient rock in our temple, to my grandfather’s back that bore its weight, and to the timeless truth that when faith moves mountains, even stones become Gods.

“Faith is the well, devotion is the Tulsi, and God is the rock—eternal, steadfast, and unshakeable.”

Tracing Curiosity in the Digital Mirror

Tracing Curiosity in the Digital Mirror

The last thing I searched for online was the origin of a word. At first glance, it may appear trivial, a mere act of etymological inquiry. Yet, beneath its surface, it held a whole ocean of meanings waiting to be unravelled. Words, after all, are not just sounds or symbols etched upon a page—they are vessels of thought, carriers of culture, and echoes of time itself.

The question that led me to this search was simple: where does this word truly come from, and what journeys has it undertaken through history to rest upon my tongue today? Curiosity nudged me forward, much like a candle flickering in the quiet chambers of the mind, illuminating forgotten corridors of knowledge. The online world, often accused of breeding distraction, became in that moment a gateway to deeper reflection.

In peeling away the layers of language, I stumbled upon philosophies of life itself. Each word seemed like a seed scattered across centuries, nurtured by countless voices and reshaped by human experience. My search was not about filling a gap of ignorance but about stitching myself closer to the grand fabric of existence. In chasing a single word, I felt connected to generations past and those yet to come.

Why was I looking for it? Perhaps because words have always been my silent companions. They do not betray, they do not wither—they stand like lighthouses amidst the stormy seas of life. To know their roots is to know a little more about oneself, for we are but stories woven in letters, sentences, and verses.

In truth, every online search reflects more than curiosity—it reflects the soul’s quiet yearning. Some seek answers to practical problems, others chase fleeting entertainment, but at the heart of it lies an ancient human instinct: the desire to know. My search, though modest, was my way of listening to the whispers of time, of bending my ear to the past, and of honouring the invisible threads that hold our world together.

As I closed the digital window, I felt lighter, as though a small door had been opened in the labyrinth of the mind. And it left me pondering: perhaps every search we make online is not just about finding—but about remembering, connecting, and awakening.

When the Screen Was Silent: Childhood Beyond Television

When the Screen Was Silent: Childhood Beyond Television

When people today ask, “What TV shows did you watch as a kid?” I smile, for the answer is simple and yet profound – none at all. There was no glowing box in the corner of the room, no flickering images shaping my evenings, no jingles or commercials echoing in my head. My childhood unfolded in a world where silence was not absence, but presence; where imagination was not outsourced, but deeply owned.

Instead of remote controls, we held the reins of our own creativity. The theatre of the mind was more vibrant than any broadcast. Stories travelled through whispered folklore, the turning pages of well-worn books, or the captivating rhythm of a wandering minstrel. Every rustle of leaves in the evening wind, every constellation studded across the night sky, seemed to tell a tale. The earth itself was our storyteller.

Philosophers often remind us that true wisdom lies not in what we consume, but in what we perceive. Aristotle wrote of catharsis through drama, yet in my world, catharsis came not from staged performances but from witnessing life in its raw authenticity – the first monsoon shower kissing parched soil, the golden sunrise painting new beginnings, or the deep hush of twilight signalling closure.

It was a childhood where time stretched like an endless meadow. Play was not choreographed by channels, but by instinct – running barefoot on soft soil, chasing dragonflies, inventing games with pebbles, or gazing into clouds to sculpt castles of fancy. In those moments, the soul discovered a rhythm closer to nature than to technology.

Looking back, I realise that not having television was not a deprivation, but a liberation. The absence of a screen created a presence of thought, of dialogue, of stillness. In that quietude, we learned to listen – to the laughter of friends, to the wisdom of elders, to the murmurs of rivers and the silent counsel of stars.

Today, when entertainment is at one’s fingertips, I sometimes wonder if children miss the sheer poetry of waiting, the magic of imagination unshaped by ready-made visuals. For what is childhood if not the first draft of our philosophy of life?

The French philosopher Rousseau once said, “The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is boundless.” My childhood, untouched by the glow of television, was precisely that – a boundless field where the mind galloped free, unfenced by screens.

And so, to the question, “What TV shows did you watch as a kid?” my answer remains both simple and profound: none. But in that silence, I watched the greatest show of all – life itself, staged by nature, directed by time, and narrated by the soul.

When no screen flickered, the stars would shine,
The moon was the lantern, its wisdom divine.
Dreams took their wings in the still of the night,
Stories were woven in dawn’s golden light.

No jingle, no drama, no scripted applause,
Just nature’s own rhythm, with infinite cause.
A childhood unscripted, yet wondrously free,
The truest of shows, was life’s poetry.

Book Review: The Half-Pant Diaries – Chronicles of an Unforgettable Childhood

Book Review: The Half-Pant Diaries – Chronicles of an Unforgettable Childhood

The Half-Pant Diaries: Chronicles of an Unforgettable Childhood is not just a book—it is a window into a world where innocence, mischief, discovery, and wonder intertwine. With every page, the reader is transported back to the tender years of youth, where a half-pant was not just an attire but a symbol of freedom, playfulness, and life unburdened by the complexities of adulthood.

About the Book

This compelling work captures the very essence of growing up—stories that echo with the laughter of carefree days, the fragrance of childhood friendships, the sting of little failures, and the triumphs that seemed like mountains conquered. Written in a nostalgic yet relatable style, it evokes memories buried deep in every heart. Each chronicle is both personal and universal—an intimate diary that reflects the shared experiences of an entire generation.

About the Author

Prashant Kumar Lal, an acclaimed educationist and author, weaves this narrative with the wisdom of an academician and the warmth of a storyteller. Having spent decades nurturing young minds as a teacher, mentor, and principal, Lal brings an authenticity to the writing that only someone deeply connected with the children’s world could achieve. His earlier works have inspired many, but The Half-Pant Diaries is special—it is a heartfelt return to his roots, shaped by his own unforgettable childhood.

Target Readers

The book is for everyone who has ever worn a half-pant—literally or metaphorically. Parents will smile as they find shades of their children in its pages. Teachers will recognise the universality of growing-up moments. Young readers will delight in the playful spirit, while older ones will be swept away by nostalgia. It bridges generations, making it a perfect family read.

Unique Selling Proposition (USP)

Unlike many memoirs, The Half-Pant Diaries is not just about the author’s childhood—it is about our childhood. The power of its narrative lies in relatability. It offers not only nostalgia but also life lessons, sprinkled with humour, innocence, and philosophical undertones. Its universal charm makes it timeless—a book that can be read, cherished, and passed on.

“The Half-Pant Diaries remind us that childhood is not something we leave behind—it is something we carry within us, forever.”

Available now on Amazon in digital and print format!

Whispers of Dawn: My Favourite Time of Day

Whispers of Dawn: My Favourite Time of Day

There is a time of day when silence is not emptiness but a living presence, when the world stretches out of its slumber and creation seems to whisper secrets to the soul. For me, that sacred hour is dawn — the gentle unfolding of a new day. It is not merely a shift in the clock’s hands; it is the delicate dance between night and day, shadow and light, despair and hope.

When the first rays of the sun pierce the veil of darkness, the world wears a robe of innocence. The trees stand still, almost in prayer; the birds begin their hymns in unison; and the wind, cool and untainted, brushes against one’s skin with a touch that feels divine. In that moment, the universe seems to pause, as if God Himself lingers to bless the earth with another chance, another beginning.

The Spiritual Breath of Morning

Dawn has always been revered in spiritual traditions. The Upanishads speak of Brahma Muhurta, the “time of the Creator,” which falls just before sunrise, believed to be the most auspicious moment for meditation and prayer. In those quiet hours, the mind is said to be pure, free from distractions, and closest to the divine. Likewise, Christian mystics often likened the break of day to resurrection — the stone rolled away, the tomb empty, and hope alive again.

To stand before a rising sun is to experience both humility and grandeur. The universe reveals its magnitude, yet whispers that we too are part of its vast design. It is as though the Creator dips a brush into the palette of eternity and paints a new canvas for us each day.

The Philosophical Light of Dawn

Philosophers have long drawn from the imagery of morning to explain life itself. Heraclitus saw in the sunrise a metaphor for the eternal flux, the truth that “you cannot step into the same river twice.” Similarly, in Indian philosophy, the dawn mirrors maya — the fleeting, ever-changing nature of reality. Every morning is a reminder that permanence is an illusion, and that beauty lies in this very transience.

And yet, dawn does not sadden me. It fills me with courage. It teaches me that endings — whether of nights, sorrows, or seasons — are never final; they are only preludes to new beginnings.

The Poetic Charm of the Hour

Poets have always found their muse in this liminal hour. William Wordsworth saw morning as “a silent blessing,” while Rabindranath Tagore described it as “the daybreak of joy.” The dawn is a poem written in colours too subtle for ink: the lilac streak across the sky, the trembling dew on a blade of grass, the fading star that gives way to the sun.

For me, dawn is a personal companion. It is the time I sip my first cup of tea, not merely for taste, but as a ritual of stillness. It is the hour when my thoughts are uncluttered, when the body is rested, and when the mind is tender enough to dream again.

A Time for Renewal

What makes dawn my favourite is not just its beauty but its philosophy. It tells me that every day is a fresh scroll, a chance to rewrite the verses of my existence. Yesterday’s failures and follies dissolve in the quiet mist, and today offers a clean page. It is the time when my mind is uncluttered, my heart is soft, and my spirit is ready to embrace both the grandeur and the grief of the hours ahead.

To wake with dawn is to witness hope incarnate. As the horizon blushes with hues of orange, pink, and gold, one is reminded that even the sky begins each day by painting itself anew. The sacred silence of dawn is not an absence of noise but a music too profound for ears, a harmony felt only by the heart.

At dawn, the soul takes flight,
Bathed in whispers of gentle light.
Yesterday’s burdens fade from view,
For every sunrise writes life anew.

The sky bows low, the earth stands tall,
And heaven’s mercy enfolds us all.
In dawn I find my sweetest prayer
A gift of time, beyond compare.

A Symphony in a Bowl: My Favourite Recipe

A Symphony in a Bowl: My Favourite Recipe

There are recipes we inherit, recipes we stumble upon, and recipes that grow upon us like faithful friends of the soul. Amongst the many delightful dishes that my taste buds have encountered, there is one recipe that never fails to awaken both my appetite and my heart — a humble bowl of khichdi.

At first glance, it may appear as nothing more than rice and lentils cooked together. Yet, much like life itself, simplicity often hides a profound philosophy. Khichdi is not merely food — it is harmony. It is the blending of two humble ingredients that would otherwise stand alone, yet when united in warmth, they produce a melody of comfort, nourishment, and peace.

When the grains of rice soften in the company of lentils, spices whisper gently into the pot, and clarified butter (ghee) slides in like a golden blessing, the dish transforms into a symphony — soothing, soulful, and timeless. To me, it symbolises what the Upanishads often reminded seekers: truth lies not in grandeur, but in stillness, in balance, in the merging of opposites.

Philosophically, khichdi carries the essence of equanimity. It neither shouts with the fiery exuberance of exotic cuisines nor hides in blandness. Instead, it teaches us the middle path — the Buddha’s wisdom of moderation. It warms the body on rainy afternoons, comforts the soul on days of illness, and anchors the mind in moments of fatigue. In a way, this dish is the culinary version of a hymn — gentle, healing, and universal.

Cooking it is as meditative as partaking in it. Washing the rice and lentils feels like rinsing one’s worries away. As they simmer together, the rising steam curls like incense in prayer, filling the kitchen with a fragrance of homeliness. Each stir of the ladle reminds me that patience, like fire beneath the pot, transforms the raw into the refined.

This favourite recipe of mine is more than nourishment; it is a philosophy plated. It reassures me that in a world full of complexities, the simplest things often sustain us the most. It humbly whispers that life, too, can be made wholesome when diverse elements — work and rest, joy and sorrow, solitude and companionship — are blended with care and love.

And so, in the quiet company of this dish, I often discover the eternal truth: happiness lies not in feasts of extravagance, but in the soulful embrace of simplicity.

In steaming bowls my solace lies,
Where lentils meet the rice so wise.
A humble hymn, a sacred song,
Of balance kept when days feel long.

A spoonful warm, the spirit sings,
Life’s deepest joy in simplest things.

When Joy Came Knocking at My Door

When Joy Came Knocking at My Door

Excitement often visits us unannounced, like a sudden shower on a parched summer’s day. The last time my heart leapt with such delight was not for a grand achievement or a monumental occasion, but for something far more tender, almost ordinary to the world, yet extraordinary to me. It reminded me that happiness often hides in the corners of simple experiences, waiting to be discovered with an open heart.

The occasion was as humble as a countryside outing—what began as an errand turned into a cascade of surprises. Plans were made to buy fishes, but fate—always mischievous in her ways—placed quails in our basket instead. What followed was a day embroidered with laughter, dancing to forgotten melodies, and a car-o-bar under the fading skies. In those moments, the world shed its heavy robes of worry, and life became a festival of small wonders.

Philosophers have long insisted that joy lies not in possessing, but in experiencing. Aristotle believed that happiness is the activity of the soul in accordance with virtue, and perhaps virtue lies in recognising the sacred in the simple. For me, that day was not just about quails, music, or even food—it was about gratitude, about being present, about feeling alive in a fleeting hour.

Excitement is often mistaken as a burst of noise, but in truth, it is a silent hymn. It is the soul whispering, “This moment matters.” To me, the laughter of my dear ones, the twinkle of delight in a child’s eyes, and the rhythm of old songs carried more depth than the applause of any achievement. It was a reminder that life’s true treasures come not in gold or glory, but in the togetherness of hearts and the simplicity of shared joy.

And so, the last thing that excited me was not a possession but an experience, not an object but a memory. It is stored within me like a flame—gentle, glowing, and eternal.

In the folds of time, I found my song,
A fleeting hour where I belonged.
Not crowns of fame, nor treasures rare,
But laughter and love that filled the air.

Excitement bloomed, so pure, so free,
A whisper of grace, eternity’s plea.
Life’s sweetest gift is not afar—
It shines where simple wonders are.

Book Review: Physics Test Series for Class XII by Prashant Kumar Lal

Book Review: Physics Test Series for Class XII by Prashant Kumar Lal 

Physics Test Series for Class XII by Prashant Kumar Lal is a meticulously crafted academic companion for students aspiring to master the subject at a higher secondary level. The book stands out as more than a test series—it is a structured roadmap for students preparing for board examinations (CBSE, ICSE, ISC), as well as competitive examinations like JEE (Main & Advanced), NEET, and international syllabi such as A-Levels.

About the Book

The book covers the entire Class XII Physics curriculum in a comprehensive test-series format, designed to gradually strengthen conceptual clarity, problem-solving abilities, and examination temperament. Each test is carefully curated, integrating previous years’ questions, advanced-level problems, and application-based questions that encourage analytical thinking. Detailed solutions provide not just answers but also a deeper understanding of the subject matter, helping students bridge the gap between theory and practice.

About the Author

Prashant Kumar Lal, with an illustrious career of over 38 years in the field of education, including 20 years as a Principal and academic mentor, brings both rigour and compassion to his writings. Having trained thousands of students, teachers, and parents, his experience reflects in the way complex concepts are simplified without diluting their depth. He has also authored several works including Image of My Experiences (a book of poetry), Speeches from the Desk of the Principal, and The Legend of Inara Wali, which show his versatility as both an educator and writer.

Target Readers

The book is primarily intended for:

1. Class XII students preparing for CBSE, ISC, ICSE board exams.

2. Engineering and medical aspirants aiming for JEE (Main/Advanced) and NEET.

3. A-Level Physics learners seeking structured practice and exam-focused preparation.

4. Teachers and coaching institutes looking for a reliable question bank with solutions.

USP (Unique Selling Proposition)

1. Comprehensive Coverage: Blends board-level and competitive-level problems.

2. Authenticity: Incorporates questions from past board and competitive exams.

3. Structured Learning: Tests are designed to enhance speed, accuracy, and confidence.

4. Exam Temperament Building: Simulates the real exam environment, preparing students mentally and strategically.

5. Experienced Touch: Authored by a seasoned educator who understands the evolving needs of learners.

Physics Test Series for Class XII is not just a book, but a reliable study partner. It instils confidence in students by offering them a platform to test, evaluate, and improve systematically. With its blend of conceptual depth, practical problem sets, and lucid solutions, the book is an indispensable resource for every serious Physics learner at the +2 level.

The City of Tomorrow: A Symphony of Light and Life

The City of Tomorrow: A Symphony of Light and Life

When one imagines the city of the future, it is not merely of glass towers scraping the heavens, nor of neon lights shimmering in eternal nights. Rather, it is the dream of a civilisation that has finally learnt to live in harmony with nature, technology, and the human spirit. The city of tomorrow is not just built—it is grown, nurtured, and breathed into existence like a poem unfolding across time.

The blueprint of such a city begins with sensitivity. The streets are not arteries of chaos, but pathways of communion. They do not roar with engines but hum with the quiet footsteps of walkers, the gentle wheels of bicycles, and the soft whirr of vehicles born of clean energy. Air is no longer a burdened sigh of smoke, but a melody of freshness, carrying the fragrance of blossoms from green avenues that line the heart of the metropolis.

Architecture, in this city, is not a triumph of steel over stone, but a dialogue between sky and soil. Buildings lean towards the sun not to dominate, but to draw light into the lives of their dwellers. Walls breathe, roofs harvest rain, and windows welcome not only vistas but wisdom. Every structure becomes an extension of the earth—an acknowledgement that humanity is but a tenant of this fragile planet.

Technology, too, is not a master but a companion. The city of tomorrow will be woven with invisible threads of intelligence—systems that adapt, learn, and protect. Energy will flow not from smoke-stacked powerhouses but from the kiss of the sun, the whisper of the wind, and the pulse of the tides. Water will be cherished as sacred, its flow respected, its cycles maintained. Waste will be reborn, not discarded, and food will grow in vertical gardens that brush against the clouds.

Philosophically, such a city will not be judged by its wealth or monuments, but by the wellbeing of its people. It will measure success not in skyscrapers, but in smiles; not in GDP, but in the quiet contentment of its citizens. It will be a place where solitude is not loneliness but meditation, where crowds do not suffocate but inspire, and where every child can gaze at the night sky unbroken by the tyranny of smoke.

Above all, the city of tomorrow will not erase the past but embrace it. History will not be demolished for progress but will live as wisdom carved in every square, every park, every cathedral of memory. The future will not be a severance but a symphony—an orchestration of past, present, and possibility.

And when one stands at its centre, the city will not feel like a machine, but like a soul—alive, luminous, and tender.

In streets where silence learns to sing,
And bells of harmony softly ring,
The city rises, gentle, true,
A sky of hope in every hue.

Its towers breathe, its gardens pray,
Its waters dance, its lights obey,
No chains of smoke, no cries of greed,
But tender hearts and gentle deed.

So let us dream, and let us sow,
A city where all rivers flow,
Where future walks with present past,
And love, not stone, shall ever last.

The Whisper Behind My Name

The Whisper Behind My Name A name is never a mere arrangement of letters; it is the echo of histories, the fragrance of cultures, and the pulse of human imagination. To ask, “Where did your name come from?” is not just a question of origin but a journey into identity, heritage, and the subtle mysteries of existence. Every name is like a seed—sown in the soil of time, nurtured by language, and watered by meaning. Some names are carved from the stones of tradition, handed down through generations like a torch of memory. Others are born from a spark of inspiration, a poet’s dream, or even the whispers of divinity. In both cases, the name carries a resonance beyond the person; it is at once personal and universal, unique yet shared with countless others across the fabric of humanity. Philosophically, a name is a paradox. It identifies us, yet it is not us. We are larger than our names, and yet, without them, we become shadows in the crowd. Like a title to a book, a name draws others to open our story. Behind those syllables lies the narrative of joys and sorrows, the triumphs and failures, the silent moments of reflection, and the loud echoes of laughter. The origin of a name often traces to myth, nature, or celestial patterns. Some are tied to rivers, mountains, or flowers; others to gods, heroes, or celestial stars. In ancient scriptures, names were seen as incantations—powerful vibrations capable of shaping destiny. To be named was not simply to be called, but to be invoked. As Shakespeare so timelessly asked, “What’s in a name?”—and yet, he knew the irony that a name carries both everything and nothing at all. When I reflect on my own name, I sense it as a gentle companion. It speaks in tones of continuity, as though a thread woven from unseen hands connects me to the past and nudges me into the future. It holds my laughter, it has witnessed my tears, and it has echoed back to me in different voices—stern, affectionate, respectful, or tender. It has travelled on certificates and documents, yet it has also rested like a prayer on the lips of those who have called me in love or concern. Ultimately, the question “Where did your name come from?” becomes inseparable from “Who am I?” For, in every name lies a journey of becoming. Perhaps the true answer is not only about ancestry or linguistics, but about the life one breathes into that name. Just as a river finds its own course despite its source, so too does a person give new meaning to the name they carry. So, my name came from time and tradition, from the wells of imagination and the whispers of destiny. But most of all, it came to find me—so that I could fill it with the colours of my being, and let it dance across the stage of existence, like a note in the endless music of life.

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The Sunlight Within: Embracing the Positive Emotions that Shape My Days

“The Sunlight Within: Embracing the Positive Emotions that Shape My Days”

There are moments when the heart, like a sunlit meadow, feels drenched in a warmth that words struggle to hold. These are the moments when positive emotions blossom — not merely as fleeting states of mind, but as enduring companions in life’s long pilgrimage.

The tapestry of my inner world is woven with countless threads, yet certain shades appear more often — bright, persistent, and quietly transformative. They are the gentle architects of my outlook, the hidden hand that turns even an ordinary day into a chapter of quiet joy.

Gratitude: The Candle that Never Burns Out

If life is a banquet, gratitude is the salt that gives it flavour. I often find myself marvelling at the ordinary — the cadence of morning birdsong, the honest blue of a late afternoon sky, the kind word from a stranger. Gratitude is not a transaction; it is a way of seeing, a sacred lens that renders the simplest thing a marvel. As the Stoic philosopher Epictetus advised, “He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things he has not, but rejoices for those he has.”

Contentment: The Quiet River Beneath the Rush

There is a peculiar strength in stillness. In a world spinning faster than our breath can follow, contentment is my quiet harbour. It does not demand the absence of ambition, but rather the presence of peace — knowing that one’s worth is not weighed by constant acquisition. Like a monk listening to the wind through the pines, I find contentment in the spaces between striving, where the soul can breathe.

Compassion: The Bridge to Every Heart

Compassion is perhaps the most transformative of all emotions I nurture. It reminds me that the sorrows of others are not distant echoes but notes in the same human symphony to which I belong. It bends the ego, softens judgement, and makes the heart a gentler place to dwell. As the Buddha once taught, “Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened.”

Hope: The Eternal Spring

Hope is the perennial bloom in the garden of the mind. It does not deny the frost or the drought; it simply believes the seasons will turn. Even in the dimmest corridors of uncertainty, hope is the flicker that lights the way forward. Philosophers may call it irrational; poets call it divine. I call it the heartbeat of tomorrow.

Joy: The Sudden Flight of the Soul

There are days when joy arrives unannounced — in a melody heard across a courtyard, in the laughter of children playing beyond the fence, in the aroma of fresh rain on parched earth. Joy has no appointment, no conditions; it simply soars into the spirit and lifts it higher than reason alone can carry.

In truth, these emotions do not live in isolation. They are interwoven like petals of a single flower, each enhancing the beauty of the other. They teach me that life’s worth is not measured by years or achievements, but by the richness of moments we allow to touch us deeply.

And so, I carry them with me — gratitude, contentment, compassion, hope, and joy — not as treasures locked away, but as sunlight within, always ready to spill into the world.

When Dreams Find Their Map: The Art of Goal Planning”

“When Dreams Find Their Map: The Art of Goal Planning”

Every dawn arrives with a silent invitation — to design the day, to shape the weeks ahead, and to sculpt the life we long to live. The horizon does not come closer by chance; it comes closer when our footsteps know where they are headed. And so, between the realm of what is and the realm of what could be lies the sacred bridge of goal planning.

Goal planning is more than making a list; it is a conversation between your present self and the self you wish to become. It is the art of translating a vision into steps, of weaving the abstract into the tangible. A wise philosopher once said, “Well begun is half done,” and in goal setting, that beginning is the moment you dare to imagine a future worth striving for.

First comes clarity. One must see the goal as if it were already alive — feel it, hear it, even taste the air in the world where it has been achieved. This is not idle daydreaming; it is planting the seed in the fertile soil of your mind. Without clarity, you may spend years climbing a ladder, only to find it leaning against the wrong wall.

Then comes breakdown. The loftiest of goals can be intimidating — like staring at a mountain peak from the valley floor. But when you divide the ascent into stages, the path becomes less daunting. A daily habit, a weekly milestone, a monthly review — each is a stepping stone in the river.

Flexibility is the companion of wisdom. Life is no obedient servant; it will throw storms at your sails, and you may need to adjust your course. The ancient Stoics taught us that while we cannot control the winds, we can adjust our sails. Goals must be firm in spirit yet adaptable in form.

Above all, goal planning requires alignment with values. A goal that stands apart from your inner compass will become a burden rather than a beacon. Let your ambitions echo your principles, so that each step towards them also feels like a step towards your truest self.

Finally, there is the philosophy of joy in the journey. While the destination gives us purpose, the path itself offers lessons, beauty, and growth. As the poet Rilke wrote, “The only journey is the one within.” Every day of striving becomes part of the tapestry of who you are.

So, plan your goals with the mind of a strategist, the heart of a poet, and the soul of a philosopher. Let your dreams find their map, and your map find its music. And when the day comes that you stand upon your chosen summit, you will not only see the world differently — you will see yourself anew.

“When the Sirens Sound: Crafting a Foolproof Emergency Preparedness Plan”

“When the Sirens Sound: Crafting a Foolproof Emergency Preparedness Plan”

In a world where uncertainty lurks behind every corner, the value of a well-thought-out emergency preparedness plan cannot be overstated. Whether it is the sudden strike of nature’s fury, an industrial mishap, a public health crisis, or even a prolonged power outage, the ability to respond effectively can mean the difference between chaos and calm, between loss and survival.

Why Preparedness Matters

Emergencies are rarely polite enough to announce themselves in advance. They strike swiftly, often when we least expect them. Preparedness is not the language of fear—it is the grammar of resilience. As the old adage goes, “Forewarned is forearmed”. Having a plan in place ensures that when disaster comes knocking, panic is replaced by purpose.

Key Elements of an Emergency Preparedness Plan

1. Risk Assessment

– Identify likely hazards in your area—earthquakes, floods, cyclones, fires, chemical leaks, or pandemics.

– Rank them by probability and potential impact.

– Stay informed about seasonal or regional threats.

2. Communication Strategy

– Maintain a list of emergency contacts—friends, neighbours, local authorities, hospitals, and utility services.

– Decide on a reliable way to communicate if mobile networks fail—such as a pre-arranged meeting point or a family radio channel.

3. Emergency Supply Kit

– Essentials: Non-perishable food, bottled water (at least three days’ supply), first-aid kit, torch, batteries, and multi-tool.

– Health Needs: Prescription medicines, sanitising supplies, face masks, and personal hygiene products.

– Important Documents: Identity proofs, insurance papers, medical records, and property deeds—kept in waterproof folders.

4. Evacuation Plan

– Know your local evacuation routes and nearest shelters.

– Keep fuel in your vehicle if possible.

– Assign responsibilities—who takes the pets, who secures valuables, who assists the elderly or disabled.

5. Shelter-in-Place Protocol

– When evacuation is unsafe, ensure your home has a safe, secure spot—away from windows, stocked with essentials.

– Have means to seal doors and windows in case of air contamination.

6. Skills and Drills

– Basic first-aid, CPR, and fire extinguisher use can save lives.

– Conduct practice drills at least twice a year to reinforce familiarity with the plan.

7. Mental and Emotional Readiness

– Emergencies test not just physical endurance but also mental fortitude.

– Keep morale high through clear communication, positive thinking, and structured action steps.

Special Considerations

– Children and Vulnerable People: Tailor your plan to ensure their safety and comfort.

– Pets: Keep pet food, water, and travel crates ready.

– Technology Backup: Portable chargers, solar lamps, and offline maps can be lifesavers.

The Philosophy of Preparedness

Emergency readiness is not about paranoia—it is about peace of mind. The great Stoic philosopher Seneca wrote, “The man who has anticipated the coming of troubles takes away their power when they arrive.” In other words, preparation transforms fear into foresight, and foresight into strength.

A well-prepared plan is like an umbrella—you may carry it for weeks without rain, but the moment the storm comes, you are grateful for every inch of its shelter. The art of preparedness is not a burden; it is an investment in safety, confidence, and the preservation of life.

So, when the sirens sound, will you scramble in confusion, or act with clarity? The choices—and the preparation—are yours.

The Word We Wear Thin

The Word We Wear Thin

Language, in all its splendour, is a living organism. It grows, it adapts, it borrows, and sometimes, it suffers neglect through our own carelessness. Words are like fine china — meant to be used, yes, but also treasured, lest we chip away their beauty. And if there’s one word today that has been worn down to a threadbare rag through sheer overuse, it is the word “literally.”

Once, “literally” stood tall and upright, like a proud sentinel guarding the gates of truth. It was a lighthouse in the fog of speech, signalling that there was an event not embellished by imagination, but grounded in the solid bedrock of reality. “I literally stood in the pouring rain” meant just that — the rain was falling, the clothes were soaked, the hair clung to the face. It was the language of honesty.

But now? “Literally” has been tossed into every conversation like salt on an overcooked dish — with little thought for its necessity. “I literally froze in the office.” “He literally blew my mind.” “We literally talked for centuries.” Each utterance stretches the word’s meaning like an elastic band until it no longer snaps back into shape.

Philosophically speaking, the overuse of “literally” mirrors our age of constant overstatement. We live in a time when “quite nice” is no longer enough — everything must be “absolutely amazing” or “mind-blowing epic.” The middle ground, the gentle slope of moderation, is vanishing. It is as if understatement has become a dying art, replaced by the relentless march of exaggeration.

And here comes the humorous part — “literally” has become that guest at the party who was delightful for the first hour, charming everyone with clever stories, but who now refuses to leave. The plates have been cleared, the host is stifling yawns, the chairs have been stacked, yet there they are — sipping their third cup of tea, telling the same story for the fourth time. Still likeable, perhaps, but in dire need of a gentle nudge towards the door.

The irony, of course, is delicious: “literally” now often means figuratively. This is akin to a compass pointing south when we are certain it faces north. It’s not just a slip of the tongue; it’s a slow erosion of meaning. And as with all erosion, what is lost is not easily rebuilt.

Writers of old knew the value of precision. Jane Austen could make a drawing room conversation glitter with wit without ever needing to “literally” anything. Shakespeare, with his boundless vocabulary, could conjure storms in the mind without a single “literally” to his name. These masters remind us that when we reach for the right word, rather than the nearest one, language becomes a tool not just for communication, but for art.

As the proverb goes, “Words are the dress of thought.” If we keep wearing the same tattered coat, how will our thoughts ever look their finest? We must give “literally” a rest, like a weary actor allowed a well-earned interval, so that it may return to the stage refreshed, ready to deliver lines that truly matter. In its place, we have a garden of alternatives: “truly,” “veritably,” “indeed,” “without a shadow of doubt.” Variety is the spice of language, and spice, when measured well, makes the feast worth savouring.

Let us become careful gardeners of our speech, pruning excess, nurturing meaning, and letting words bloom in their rightful season. For when a word is allowed to keep its strength, it becomes like a coin that has never left the mint — untarnished, crisp, and full of value.

Words, like wine, are best when aged with care,
Not poured in haste till the barrel runs bare.
Guard them well, let them ripen in thought,
And speak them only when truth is sought.

Marriage: The Sacred Tug-of-War”

“Marriage: The Sacred Tug-of-War”

Marriage has long been celebrated as the union of two souls, an intricate weaving of dreams, duties, and desires. Yet beneath the romantic lace and poetic vows lies an unspoken truth—marriage is not always a serene meadow of peace. It is often a lively, relentless tug-of-war, where each partner refuses to let the other live too peacefully, and paradoxically, this is what keeps it alive.

From a social standpoint, marriage functions as a partnership that demands constant negotiation. Society romanticises togetherness but overlooks that this togetherness requires friction. When two individuals share a roof, their worlds overlap, and differences in habits, priorities, and personal boundaries inevitably lead to interference. One’s definition of ‘peace’ may be solitude and silence, while the others may be conversation and shared activity. This dissonance becomes the heartbeat of the relationship—keeping both from sinking into self-centred isolation.

From a psychological perspective, humans are wired for connection, but also for autonomy. Marriage challenges both instincts simultaneously. Partners act as each other’s mirror, often magnifying flaws and pushing buttons, not out of malice, but as part of the subconscious drive to shape and improve one another. Discomfort here is not merely accidental—it is the furnace where personal growth is forged.

Science, too, lends its voice to this dynamic. Studies in evolutionary psychology suggest that our ancestors evolved to pair-bond not solely for romance, but for mutual survival and the raising of offspring. Mutual vigilance, constant involvement in each other’s affairs, and even occasional conflict were survival mechanisms. A partner who never ‘disturbs your peace’ might, in evolutionary terms, be too disengaged to protect, provide, or nurture.

Philosophically, one could argue that marriage is not about the pursuit of peace, but about the pursuit of meaning. As Friedrich Nietzsche remarked, “Marriage is a long conversation.” In that conversation, there will be debates, contradictions, even confrontations—but it is precisely these that keep it authentic. A marriage without ripples is not a lake; it is a stagnant pond.

When each partner refuses to let the other drift into a solitary bubble of comfort, they are in fact guarding against emotional entropy. The very interruptions, opinions, and challenges that disturb ‘peace’ are often acts of love in disguise—an insistence on being present in the other’s life.

“Love is not the quiet of the grave,
but the storm that shapes the shore.
It is the relentless tide,
pulling you back when you drift too far.”

“Peace may be a gentle meadow,
but marriage is a garden—
and gardens need pruning,
watering, and sometimes,
a little storm to bloom again.”