Untangling the Wires: The One Technology We Might Be Better Off Without

Untangling the Wires: The One Technology We Might Be Better Off Without

There is an odd beauty in asking which technology we would be better off without. It is like holding a mirror to modern civilisation: the glittering innovations, the complex networks, and beneath them, the unseen cracks that quietly widen under our feet. In an age where our daily lives shimmer with scientific marvels—from quantum processors to self-learning algorithms—choosing a technology to forgo feels almost sacrilegious. Yet, introspection is often the first step towards progress.

After much contemplation, one technology stands out as both transformative and troubling: predictive personal surveillance technology—the vast ecosystem of data-mining tools, behavioural trackers, and algorithmic profiling systems that claim to “optimise” our lives while quietly scripting them.

A World Under Watchful Eyes

Predictive surveillance is not simply CCTV cameras perched on lampposts. It is a sprawling system:

– smartphone sensors that follow our steps,

– algorithms that learn our preferences before we articulate them,

– apps that map our social behaviour,

– devices that listen even when we are silent.

Scientifically, it is a masterpiece of data engineering. Terabytes of information feed machine-learning engines, producing predictions with astonishing accuracy—consumer behaviour, emotional tendencies, even potential political inclinations. It has legitimate applications: preventing fraud, enhancing medical diagnostics, and improving urban planning. Yet, these benefits come with a price we rarely calculate.

Technically Brilliant, Socially Burdensome

Predictive surveillance thrives on one raw material: human privacy.
And privacy—unlike oil—cannot be replenished.

The practical viability of removing or restricting such technology is grounded in a simple truth: human beings function best when they have room to think, err, and evolve. When every action is tracked, measured, and modelled, freedom shrinks—not always through force, but subtly, psychologically.

A world without this technology would mean:

– fewer algorithmic assumptions about who we are,

– less pressure to conform to predicted patterns,

– more space for spontaneity,

– reduced risk of mass profiling or exploitation,

– greater trust in human-to-human interaction.

This is not a rejection of technology but a call for recalibration—an encouragement to adopt tools that empower us rather than tools that script us.

The Intellectual and Philosophical Lens

Philosophers from Aristotle to Tagore have spoken of the sanctity of self-governance. To be fully human is to articulate one’s own choices, even imperfectly. When prediction becomes too precise, individuality risks dissolving into patterns on a screen.

Jean-Paul Sartre might argue that predictive technologies dilute existential freedom, reducing us from creatures of will to datasets of probability.

In ancient Indian philosophy, particularly in the Upanishads, the value of internal exploration surpasses the noise of external measurement. To “know oneself” becomes harder when every moment is already being known by something else.

Looking Towards the Future

Futuristic societies will not shun technology—they will refine it, temper it, and humanise it. If we must let go of something, let it be the tools that steal our autonomy under the guise of convenience.

Instead, imagine a society where:

– AI is assistive, not intrusive,

– data belongs to the individual,

– choices stem from human intuition,

– privacy is treated as a fundamental right,

– technology bends to societal ethics, not the other way around.

– Such a future is not naïve; it is necessary.

Closing Thoughts

Stepping away from predictive surveillance does not pull us back into the dark ages. Instead, it might illuminate corners of our humanity that high-precision algorithms unintentionally shadow. Progress need not mean surrender; innovation need not mean intrusion.

And so, perhaps the technology we would be better off without is one that knows too much—more than it should, more than we need it to.

Not every spark must blaze the night,
Not every truth requires a light;
Some roads the human soul must tread,
Unmapped, unknown, by instinct led.

In the silence free from scans,
We breathe, we dream, redraw our plans;
Let wisdom guide the world we build
With privacy preserved, and freedom filled.

Stirring Memories, Seasoning Joy: Our Holiday Kitchen Chronicles

Stirring Memories, Seasoning Joy: Our Holiday Kitchen Chronicles

Holidays, in every home and every culture, have their own unmistakable flavour — a blend of nostalgia, celebration, and simmering pots that tell stories far beyond their ingredients. In our family, the festive season is never merely about dates on the calendar; it is a grand culinary overture that brings generations, traditions, and emotions together under one aromatic roof. Food becomes the faithful messenger of love, the keeper of memories, and the silent guest at every celebration.

A Kitchen Where Seasons Change but Flavours Stay

Our holiday kitchen has always been a bustling crossroads — where childhood recollections shake hands with present-day improvisations. Even now, after retirement, while living in Bangalore with my son Akash, daughter-in-law Pushpa, grandchildren, and my beloved wife Agnes, the kitchen transforms into a cosy sanctuary during festive times. The clang of ladles, the comforting fragrance of ghee, and the sizzling symphonies on the tawa all conspire to whisper, “The celebrations have begun.”

Agnes’s Signature Spread — A Taste of Punjab with a Graceful Spin

My wife, Agnes, becomes the undisputed maestro of the festive menu. Her culinary talent is the stuff of family legend. Come Christmas, Easter, or any holiday worth its salt, she dusts off her cherished recipes and the kitchen turns into her warm little theatre.

Her Punjabi-style chicken roast — marinated overnight in yoghurt, lemon, pepper, and her secret melody of spices — could make even the most solemn saint break into a jig. The vegetable cutlets, crisp on the outside and soft inside, remind me of the school feasts I once organised as a Principal — wholesome, comforting, and universally loved. And during Lent or Good Friday, her simple fish fry with just ginger, garlic, lime, and mustard oil becomes a revelation, proof that miracles exist even in minimalist cooking.

A Father–Son Bond Simmering on the Stove

Akash, with his exacting nature as a legal and compliance professional, carries that same precision to the kitchen. During holidays, he joins me in trying out something “new but safe,” as he teasingly phrases it. Together we prepare a mutton Rogan Josh — fiery red, aromatic, and cooked slowly until the meat falls apart like old regrets. The kitchen becomes a battleground of fragrant debates. He stirs the pot with the seriousness of a courtroom submission while I sprinkle in experience, memories, and the occasional philosophical musing.

My Own Modest Contribution — Simple, Honest, and Heart-Warming

I have never claimed any Michelin star ambitions. My cooking is humble, straightforward, and drawn from years of boarding school simplicity. Holidays to me often tasted like mashed potatoes — buttery clouds that melt all worries — and finger chips, the timeless favourite of children and adults alike. Even today, my grandchildren light up at the sight of them, and that alone makes the effort worthwhile. Perhaps that’s the true magic of festive food: its ability to turn ordinary ingredients into extraordinary smiles.

A Vegetarian Offering — Healthy, Colourful, Comforting

Pushpa often steps in with her signature vegetarian delight — palak paneer or a mixed vegetable pulao dotted with cashews and raisins. Her dishes embody her personality: calm, composed, balanced, and quietly nourishing. They round off the holiday table beautifully, creating harmony between indulgence and simplicity.

More Than Recipes — They Are Rituals

Over the years, I’ve learnt that holiday dishes don’t merely fill plates; they fill the heart. They are bookmarks in the novel of our lives — the taste of Christmas mornings, the aroma of Diwali evenings, the warmth of family reunions, and the comfort of knowing that no matter how far we roam, these familiar flavours will lead us home again.

Holiday cooking in our family isn’t about extravagance. It is about celebrating togetherness — like stirring hope into a pot, seasoning love into a pan, and serving joy on a plate. The dishes may change with time and geography, but the sentiment remains evergreen.

In the End…

When the dining table glows under the soft light of celebration, when the laughter rises like steam, when flavours meet feelings — that is when holidays truly begin. And if you listen closely, amidst the clatter and chatter, you will hear the gentle voice of gratitude saying, “This is what family tastes like.”

Nights Unchained: How I’d Live a Life Without Sleep

Nights Unchained: How I’d Live a Life Without Sleep

If the universe suddenly whispered, “You no longer need sleep,” I imagine my life unfolding like an undiscovered continent—vast, thrilling, and shimmering with possibilities. What would I do with those additional hours, when the world is hushed and time itself seems to walk barefoot? I would not merely fill the hours; I would transform them into something unforgettable.

Exploring the World When It Isn’t Looking

First, I’d reclaim the night as my personal playground. There is something magical about roaming through quiet lanes, where even the streetlights seem to hum secrets. I’d walk under the moonlit sky, letting ideas fall like shooting stars. Cities at night have a face they never show to day—raw, poetic, unmasked. And I would be its lone witness.

Midnight University: Degrees in Everything

My sleepless hours would be my admission ticket to what I fondly call The Midnight University—a place with no deadlines, no tuition, and no boundaries.

I would:

– learn a new language every few months,

– revisit the elegance of calculus and classical mechanics,

– decode the mysteries of Indian astrology,

– and even dabble in anthropology to understand why humans behave the way they do.

No exams—just pure, unadulterated curiosity. When others dream, I would learn.

Crafting My Own Symphony of the Night

Music would become my midnight companion. I’d explore unheard ragas, improvise soft melodies, and let the harmonium breathe as though it, too, were freed from the tyranny of time. In those quiet hours, I might even record an album—Ragas for the Restless Soul—a tribute to sleepless dreamers like me.

The Writer Who Never Runs Out of Time

Words have a strange habit: they arrive when you are least prepared. With no sleep to chase me away, I would let the words pour out like monsoon rain over parched earth. I would write:

– travelogues of places I haven’t yet visited,

– stories set in old Himalayan boarding schools,

– philosophical reflections on time and memory,

– and maybe even a wild, humorous novel inspired by my own life’s detours.

No rush, no clock, no eyelids demanding surrender.

Reinventing Myself—Piece by Piece

With all that time, I would rebuild myself from the inside out.

I would meditate at 3 a.m. when the world’s noise shrinks to a whisper.
I would practise breathing techniques older than empires.
I would stretch, strengthen, and walk until my body learnt the calm luxury of movement.

Without sleep, I wouldn’t live more hours—I would live them better.

Experiments in the Quiet Corners of Life

Freed from fatigue, I would attempt the things I always pushed aside:

– master the perfect Odia pakhala without creating a culinary crime scene,

– build a miniature model of my childhood as it existed in the 1970s,

– trace my family history through maps, letters, and memories,

– restore forgotten photographs into stories again,

– and maybe start an eccentric 3 a.m. online club for thinkers, wanderers, and insomniacs.

Life would become a beautiful laboratory of experiments.

Night Drives with Myself

I’d take the car for long drives while the world slept. The empty highways would be my meditation mat, their long ribbons stretching into the unknown. Bangalore to Mysore in the ghost hours—why not? With a flask of tea, soft Jim Reeves playing, and the stars keeping score, I would rediscover India one silent kilometre at a time.

Giving Back in Invisible Ways

With no sleep pulling me away, I’d spend quiet hours helping others—responding to students seeking guidance, drafting training modules, reading research, crafting advice for schools, and lending young educators the strength I once needed.

Unseen work is often the most meaningful.

In the End…

A life without sleep wouldn’t just be longer—it would be deeper, stranger, more alive. I would use every extra hour not as a cushion but as a canvas. The night would no longer be an ending; it would be a beginning.

And if someone asked,
“Don’t you miss dreaming?”
I would smile and say,
“No. I’m too busy living with them.”

The Three Irritants That Ruffle My Calm

The Three Irritants That Ruffle My Calm

There are days when life ambles along like a leisurely river under a winter sun—and then there are days when a few, very specific behaviours stir the waters, sending tiny ripples across my otherwise philosophical calm. I do not claim to be flawless; age and experience have taught me that imperfections are as essential as breath. Yet, a few pet peeves do raise their heads, nudging my patience and whispering, “Surely we can do better as a civilisation.”

Here, then, are my top three—listed not with irritation, but with a contemplative sigh, a sprinkle of humour, and a philosopher’s conviction that self-awareness is the first step toward grace.

1. The Art of Speaking Without Listening

If civilisation were a symphony, listening would be its most delicate note. Yet many people treat conversations like verbal sprints, eager to reach the finish line of their own opinions.

What irks me is not disagreement—diversity of thought is the lifeblood of progress—but the habit of talking at rather than talking with. When someone interrupts just as you are about to land a meaningful idea, the moment evaporates like mist over the Himalayan foothills.

As someone who has guided countless students, staff members, and parents, I have always believed that true leadership—and true humanity—rests in the ability to listen deeply. When this art is abandoned, discourse becomes noisy.

2. Delayed Responses in a Hyper-Connected Era

I belong to a generation that wrote letters with fountain pens, waited for postmen, and savoured the thrill of a reply that arrived after days—or weeks. Ironically, in the digital age of instant messaging, it is not the delay itself that annoys me but the indifference behind the delay.

A simple acknowledgement—“Received,” “Will reply shortly”—costs nothing but conveys respect. Yet messages vanish into the void, as if sucked into a black hole of modern detachment.

In a world where everyone is connected, it is remarkable how quickly one can feel left out or invisible. Perhaps this is why delayed responses now pinch a little more sharply—they reflect not time, but priority.

3. Chaos Masquerading as Creativity

As a former Principal and someone shaped by the discipline of Physics, I admire the elegance of order.

But some people believe that messiness is a mark of genius. While that may be true for the likes of Einstein, for the rest of us chaos often leads only to forgotten deadlines, misplaced sincerity, and the famous refrain:
“I thought you were doing it!”

Whether it is unstructured meetings, haphazard planning, or simply clutter—physical or emotional—I find it unsettling. Order, to me, is not rigidity but a silent courtesy. It allows life to flow smoothly, like a well-composed musical score where each note knows exactly when to arrive.

A Gentle Reflection

Pet peeves are not judgements; they are small windows into our values. Mine arise from a life shaped by discipline, humility, and a deep longing for meaningful human connection.

I have travelled across classrooms, corridors, hostels, mountains, and memories—and somewhere along the way, I learnt that the world is kinder when we listen, respond, and organise our thoughts before offering them to others.

In the hush of life’s unfolding scroll,
A few small habits test the soul.
Yet patience grows with every breath,
Taming storms that rage beneath.

For even peeves, when understood,
Can shape our hearts towards the good

The Enchanted Ladder of Numbers: A Journey Through the Fibonacci Mystery

The Enchanted Ladder of Numbers: A Journey Through the Fibonacci Mystery

There are numbers we count with, numbers we calculate with, and then there are numbers that seem to whisper the secrets of the universe. Among these mystical companions of mathematics, the Fibonacci numbers stand tall—calm, elegant, and eternally fascinating. They are more than a sequence; they are a bridge between arithmetic and artistry, a melody threaded into nature’s fabric, and a gentle reminder that order hides within apparent chaos.

What Are Fibonacci Numbers?

At first glance, they are a simple pattern:

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34…

Each number is the sum of the two preceding ones.

This recursive simplicity is what gives the sequence its charm—every term owes its existence to what came before, much like generations in a family, or years in a person’s life.

Where Did They Come From? – The Origin Story

The story of Fibonacci numbers begins in Medieval Italy with Leonardo of Pisa, fondly known as Fibonacci (short for “filius Bonacci” – the son of Bonacci).
In his 1202 book Liber Abaci, he introduced the sequence through a simple problem:

How many pairs of rabbits can be produced from a single pair in one year if every month each pair produces another pair that becomes fertile after two months?

The answer to this rabbit riddle gave birth to the sequence we now know across continents and centuries.

Although Fibonacci popularised it in Europe, older traces of the pattern exist in classical Indian mathematics. Scholars like Acharya Hemachandra described similar sequences long before the West named them after Fibonacci. History, as always, rewards curiosity across cultures.

How Was This Sequence “Invented”?

The sequence was not invented in the strict sense but rather discovered—a natural outcome of exploring growth patterns. Fibonacci merely framed a situation where the pattern revealed itself. His brilliance lay in observing that numbers could model biological reproduction, turning a simple puzzle into a timeless mathematical gem.

Why Are Fibonacci Numbers So Interesting?

Because they keep showing up everywhere.

They quietly appear in:

– Nature’s Architecture

– the spiral of sunflower seeds

– the branching of trees

– pine cones

– nautilus shells

– hurricanes

– galaxies

These spirals often follow ratios that echo the Fibonacci sequence, suggesting nature’s fondness for efficiency and balance.

Art, Design & Beauty

The Golden Ratio, approximately 1.618, is intimately tied to Fibonacci numbers. Artists and architects have relied on it—sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously—to create proportions pleasing to the human eye.

The Parthenon, Leonardo da Vinci’s sketches, modern digital design layouts—all resonate with this silent rule of symmetry.

Music & Poetry

Rhythmic structures, stanza lengths, and even Indian classical compositions sometimes fall into Fibonacci patterns.
The mind loves balance, and Fibonacci provides a rhythm that feels both surprising and inevitable.

Computers and Science

In today’s world, Fibonacci numbers and the Golden Ratio appear in:

– coding algorithms

– data structures

– search techniques

– stock market analysis

– population modelling

– cryptography

From medieval rabbit puzzles to cutting-edge computation—the jump is astonishing.

Human Psychology

The unpredictability-yet-patterned nature of the sequence has fascinated philosophers. It symbolises growth, resilience, and continuity—echoing how life evolves, sometimes steadily, sometimes dramatically.

Applications in the Modern World

1. Finance: stock chart patterns, Elliott waves, and risk-prediction tools.

2. Architecture: ratio-based room sizes, façade layouts, staircases.

3. Digital Imaging: pixel arrangements, cropping, and composition.

4. Biology: phyllotaxis (leaf arrangement), DNA structure.

5. Gaming: procedural generation in virtual landscapes.

6. Artificial Intelligence: optimisation algorithms.

This 800-year-old idea continues to reinvent itself.

Why Do They Feel Magical?

Perhaps because Fibonacci numbers tell a story of harmony emerging from recurrence.
Perhaps because the sequence mirrors our own lives: we grow by building upon what came before.
Or perhaps because, like poetry, these numbers show that simplicity can blossom into profound beauty.

Whatever the reason, the Fibonacci sequence is a reminder that mathematics is not dry—it is alive, breathing through petals, waves, galaxies, and imagination.

In petals curled in nature’s hand,
In seashell spirals on the sand,
A whisper runs from one to two,
A secret code the ages knew.

From Pisian quill to cosmic dome,
These numbers weave the world we roam,
An ancient tune the stars still sing—
The Fibonacci wondrous spring.

Creatures of My Quiet Affection

Creatures of My Quiet Affection
A reflection on the animals that have shaped my wonder, wisdom, and wandering heart

Animals have always been extraordinary teachers—silent philosophers wrapped in fur, feather, or scale. Though I do not claim a particular favourite, I find myself quietly enchanted by many of them, each offering a unique lesson, a tender memory, or a whisper of philosophy that lingers long after the moment has passed.

The Elephant: The Gentle Giant of Memory

Whenever I watch an elephant, whether in the wilderness or in a documentary, I am reminded of calm strength. The elephant walks with the weight of centuries yet steps with astonishing softness—as though mindful of the very earth that sustains it. Its familial loyalty and emotional intelligence mirror the deepest human values we aspire to uphold. In their slow, majestic gait, I find the wisdom to move through life with intention rather than haste.

The Dog: The Friend Who Loves Without Conditions

Dogs have long been companions of human hearts. Their loyalty is never bargaining, their affection never measured. A dog’s gentle presence can brighten the darkest evenings and bring joy to the quietest corners of a home. Even without owning one, I have felt moved by their unspoken message: love fearlessly, live faithfully, and trust more than you doubt.

The Butterfly: The Poet of Transformation

Few creatures embody the beauty of change as gracefully as the butterfly. Its delicate wings remind me that transformation, however painful, can blossom into something breathtaking. Watching a butterfly flit across a garden is like seeing a line of poetry take flight—fragile, fleeting, but deeply meaningful. The butterfly whispers a universal truth: nothing stays the same, yet everything can become beautiful.

The Horse: The Symbol of Freedom and Grace

A horse running across an open field is a vision of pure freedom. Their strength does not suppress; it elevates. Their grace does not demand attention; it earns admiration. They remind me that freedom is not the absence of boundaries but the presence of purpose. In their galloping strides, I sense a rhythm that resonates with the human spirit—steady, strong, and endlessly hopeful.

The Sparrow: The Keeper of Everyday Joy

Often overlooked, the humble sparrow sings with an enthusiasm that outshines the grandest birds of the sky. Its presence each morning teaches resilience, gratitude, and the charm of simple joys. A sparrow reminds me that life’s quiet moments—those uncelebrated bits of daily existence—can still echo with warmth if we choose to notice them.

Life has taught me that one need not have a “favourite” to appreciate beauty. Affection is not always about choosing one over another; it is about recognising the little spark of divinity in every living being. Animals, in their innocence and instinct, reveal truths that even philosophy sometimes fails to articulate.

In feathered flight and padded tread,
In quiet nooks where sparrows tread,
Each creature holds a tale untold,
Of tender hearts and instincts bold.

No favourites kept, yet love I find,
In every form of life entwined.
For nature speaks in many tongues,
Through ancient beasts and newborn youngs.

Where the Waves Meet the Peaks: A Heart Caught Between Two Horizons

Where the Waves Meet the Peaks: A Heart Caught Between Two Horizons

There are questions in life that have easy answers—tea or coffee, morning or night, trousers or shorts. And then there are the profound ones, the ones that tug at the deepest recesses of our being. Beach or mountains? For many, it is a choice. For me, it is a celebration—because I prefer both, and each speaks to a different chamber of my heart.

The beach is a poem whispered by the wind. Its rhythm mimics the pulse of the earth—waves embracing the shore with eternal devotion, retreating only to return with renewed passion. There is something irresistibly romantic about the sea: its vastness, its mysteries, and the way it invites you to walk barefoot into its arms. Every footprint on the sand feels like a fleeting thought, washed gently by the tide, reminding us that nature has its own way of editing our stories.

Yet the mountains—ah, the mountains!—they rise like ancient philosophers, carved by time and crowned by silence. Standing amidst them is like entering a cathedral with no walls, no rituals, and no restrictions—only the sacred dialogue between you and the universe. Their whispers come in the form of rustling pines, and their breath arrives as crisp, cool winds that brush your cheeks with affection. The mountains teach stillness; they remind you that at the top of any climb lies not triumph, but humility.

Between the golden shimmer of the coast and the emerald majesty of the highlands lies the essence of adventure. The beach invites you to play—to run along the shore, taste salt on your lips, ride the waves, and laugh with abandon. The mountains beckon you to explore—to trek into unknown trails, chase sunrises that appear like shy brides, and feel the thrill of chasing the sky itself. One is a festival; the other, a pilgrimage. One charms you with warmth; the other challenges you with height. And in this vibrant contrast, life finds its balance.

Romanticism thrives in both terrains. On the beach, lovers carve their initials into wet sand, sealing promises that last longer in memory than on the shore. In the mountains, hearts beat louder in the silence, where two hands held tightly can warm an entire world. Whether it is the moonlight shimmering on the waves or the first sunlight kissing a snow-capped ridge, nature keeps offering love letters to the human soul.

Philosophically, the beach reminds us of constancy—waves that return, no matter how many times life pulls us away from what we adore. The mountains remind us of perseverance—some heights take longer to reach, but the journey remains worth every breath, every stumble, every step. Together, they teach us to be fluid yet firm, soft yet strong, humble yet hopeful.

So, do I choose the beach or the mountains? The truth is, my heart is a traveller. It dances with the waves and meditates with the peaks. It enjoys the laughter of the shore and the solitude of the pine-scented trails. I belong to both worlds, not because I cannot choose, but because I do not want to diminish the abundance that life so generously offers.

And thus, I embrace both horizons—where adventure meets romance, where nature meets philosophy, and where my own spirit feels most alive.

On the shore where the sea and sky collide,
My heart becomes the wanderer’s tide.
Salt on my lips, wind in my hair—
Life feels lighter, free from care.

But up on the peaks where the eagles soar,
My soul awakens to something more.
Silence speaks in ancient rhyme,
Guiding my steps beyond space and time.

So give me the waves, give me the heights,
The playful days, the starry nights—
For I am the traveller blessed with both,
Bound by wonder, freed by oath.

Across Empires and Eternities: Conversations I Wish I Could Have

Across Empires and Eternities: Conversations I Wish I Could Have

If destiny ever granted me a ticket through time—a golden pass to meet minds who shaped civilisation—I would choose three giants whose thoughts, triumphs, and temperaments still ripple across history: Julius Caesar, Leonardo da Vinci, and Leo Tolstoy. Each of them belongs to a different world, yet their influence journeys far beyond their own eras. To sit with them would be to sip from the fountains of power, genius, and moral truth.

Julius Caesar: The Architect of Ambition

If history ever produced a man who walked with fate at his side, it was Julius Caesar. To meet him would be to encounter the very embodiment of ambition—steady, strategic, and unstoppable.

I would ask him:
“What gave you the nerve to cross the Rubicon?”
Was it confidence? Calculation? Or the quiet whisper of destiny?

His life reads like a theatre of impossibilities—captured by pirates as a young man, he demanded they double his ransom; declared war when scorned; returned to Rome as a hero, a reformer, and ultimately a martyr to his own greatness.

His story still teaches us that courage often comes disguised as risk, and that progress demands a willingness to step into the unknown. In an age where hesitation often beats conviction, I would ask Caesar how he silenced doubt and marched forward with such magnificent audacity.

Leonardo da Vinci: The Man Who Dreamed in Blueprints

Da Vinci is not merely a historical figure—he is a galaxy unto himself. To meet him would be to watch thunder think.

The man who could paint the faintest smile in human history also imagined flying machines centuries before humanity touched the skies. His notebooks were worlds, scribbled with inventions, observations, and questions—always questions.

I would love to ask him:
“How did your mind travel so effortlessly between art and science?”

He would perhaps smile, tilt his head, and sketch something mid-conversation—a bird’s wing, a mechanical limb, the curvature of light.

Leonardo teaches us that imagination is not luxury—it is a responsibility. The world moves forward only when someone dares to dream for it. His curiosity was not a trait but a flame, one that burned through the boundaries of disciplines, languages, and eras.

Leo Tolstoy: The Conscience of Humanity

Where Caesar mastered empires and da Vinci mastered ideas, Tolstoy mastered the human soul.

To meet Tolstoy would be to sit with a philosopher dressed as a novelist. His words peel back the layers of life—war, peace, love, guilt, kindness, suffering, redemption. He understood humanity not through crowns or canvases but through hearts.

I would ask him:
“What does it truly mean to live a moral life?”

Tolstoy’s later years, spent in simplicity and reflection, reveal a man in search of spiritual clarity. In a world of speed, distraction, and noise, I would want to hear him speak about compassion, conscience, and how one finds peace while living amidst the storms of existence.

Three Eras, Three Minds, One Timeless Lesson

What unites these giants?
They each remind me that greatness is not a destination but a pursuit.

– Caesar teaches boldness.

– Da Vinci teaches curiosity.

– Tolstoy teaches conscience.

Their lives whisper that the world is shaped by those who refuse to stop asking, Why not?

If I could meet them, I would not only listen to their stories—I would carry back their spirit. A spirit that tells us to rise beyond the ordinary, to question our limits, and to live a life richer in courage, imagination, and meaning.

Across the corridors of time I’d walk,
To hear three legends think and talk.
A ruler, a dreamer, a sage so wise—
Each holding truth that never dies.

From Caesar’s roar to Leo’s pen,
And Da Vinci’s worlds beyond our ken—
I’d gather lessons, bold and bright,
To guide my days and guard my night.

The Month That Teaches Me to Breathe

The Month That Teaches Me to Breathe

There are twelve months in a year, each with its own temperament and tale. Some arrive like a marching band, loud and bright. Some slip in like a shy visitor, barely making a sound. Some test our endurance—others mend our spirits. Yet, among these twelve comrades of time, October has always been the month that feels like home to me.

October is not merely a page in the calendar; it is a state of mind.

Why October? The Charm of a Transitional Soul

October stands gently between extremes—neither clinging to the heat of summer nor surrendering fully to the cold of winter. It is the golden hour of the year, the month that bridges vivacity and calm.

In India, October is a season of soft breezes and gentle sunshine. The monsoon bows out respectfully, leaving the earth washed, fragrant, and ready for a new chapter. The skies turn a deeper blue, the mornings feel contemplative, and the evenings float like soft music drifting through an open window.

It is a month where change feels comforting, not frightening.

A Cultural Canvas of Festivals

October glows with cultural vibrancy. It brings with it a tapestry of celebrations—
Durga Puja, Dussehra, Lakshmi Puja, and in some years, the anticipatory hum of Diwali. Cities light up, villages echo with stories of victory over evil, and homes brim with the fragrances of sweets, incense, and tradition.

It is the month that reminds us that faith, festivity, and family can turn ordinary days into luminous memories.

Nature in Her Poetic Mood

If months had moods, October would be poetic. The leaves, even if subtly in India, begin their quiet journey towards change. The sunlight is no longer aggressive; instead, it drapes the land with a mellow warmth. Migratory birds test the winds again. Flowers begin to bloom with a renewed tenderness.

Walking outside in October feels like reading a favourite poem—one you already know by heart, yet rediscover each time.

The Introspective Month

October encourages reflection. It wraps the world in a soft glow that invites introspection without melancholy. It gives the soul time to stretch and breathe, time to plan and to pause.

For writers, thinkers, teachers, retired professionals, and wanderers of the mind, it is the month that makes thoughts feel lighter and ideas feel more alive.

October is when diaries open, books feel more inviting, and long walks seem to hold whispered revelations. It is the month of renewed motivation—the quiet guardian of creativity.

Philosophically Speaking

Philosophers have always found solace in transitional phases. October is a metaphor for life itself:
ever-changing, gently unfolding, and subtly preparing us for what lies ahead.

It teaches us the beauty of impermanence.
It teaches us that endings can be graceful.
It teaches us that preparation and reflection walk hand in hand.

A Month of Memory and Gratitude

October also brings with it gentle reminders—of the year that has already passed, of the blessings received, of the struggles faced, and of the grace that carried us through. It makes gratitude feel natural, not forced.

It is the month that touches both memory and hope.

A Tribute to October

In the hush between summer’s sigh
And winter’s waiting call,
October walks with lantern-light,
A calmness over all.

It paints the world in amber hues,
It softens every day,
And whispers to the wandering heart:
“There’s beauty in the halfway.”

Oh October, gentle friend,
Your breeze restores my soul,
You teach me how to breathe again,
And still, to dream in full.

Where My City Breathes: A Walk Through My Favourite Place

Where My City Breathes: A Walk Through My Favourite Place

Every city has a heartbeat — a quiet, rhythmic pulse that only those who pause long enough can hear. In Bangalore, the city I now call home, that heartbeat echoes in many corners: in its ancient temples, its scientific institutions, its gardens, and its unassuming lanes of food and culture. Yet among all these, one place remains my favourite refuge — Lalbagh Botanical Garden, a sanctuary where history, nature, science, and serenity meet under an ever-changing sky.

A Garden Older Than Memory

Lalbagh is not merely a garden; it is a chronicle of time. Conceived by Hyder Ali in the 18th century and nurtured by Tipu Sultan, it carries the fragrance of historical transitions. Here, one can almost hear the whisper of the Mysore rulers as the breeze moves through the centuries-old trees. The Glass House, inspired by London’s Crystal Palace, stands as a shining reminder of Bangalore’s colonial past and its embrace of global ideas. It is a place where the present bows respectfully to the past.

Where Science Meets Soil

My fondness for Lalbagh deepens each time I stand before its legendary Lalbagh Rock, a formation older than the Himalayas — around 3,000 million years old. For someone with a background in Physics, touching that stone feels like touching the Earth’s first heartbeat. It reminds me that while cities rise and fall, nature endures silently.
Botanists and scientists continue to shape Lalbagh into an open-air laboratory, a place where one can learn without opening a book. Every species of tree carries a scientific tale, from the rain trees that create their own microclimate to the majestic African tulips that burst into flame-like flowers.

Culture in Every Corner

Lalbagh is not an island; it is a melting pot. Walk a little and you hear Kannada, Tamil, Bengali, Odia, Hindi, English and even French from passing tourists. Morning walkers chant Sanskrit shlokas, children giggle on the pathways, and photographers crouch near dew-dropped leaves capturing the theatre of nature.
And during the famous flower shows, the place becomes a festival of colours, a cultural mosaic celebrating creativity, craftsmanship, and community spirit.

Beyond Lalbagh: The City’s Many Jewels

Although Lalbagh remains my favourite, Bangalore offers a tapestry of many remarkable places:

Cubbon Park, where British-era statues, the State Central Library, and children’s laughter weave a story of recreation and heritage.

Bangalore Palace, a Tudor-style marvel echoing royal history.

ISRO and the Visvesvaraya Industrial and Technological Museum, where India’s scientific dreams take shape.

Nandi Hills, where sunrises teach lessons in humility and hope.

Vidhana Soudha, a symbol of democratic architecture and political legacy.

Each of these adds a note to the city’s symphony — historical, cultural, scientific, or spiritual — yet it is Lalbagh where my soul feels most at home.

Why Lalbagh is My Sanctuary

Because it allows me to think without interruption. Because no one demands an explanation from the wind or from a man walking slowly under a 200-year-old tree. Because time moves gently here — neither too fast to overwhelm nor too slow to bore.
Lalbagh allows me to return to myself, to observe the world with quieter eyes, and to remind myself that life, like the garden, grows in seasons.

Where morning dew on petals lie,
I find my thoughts begin to fly,
For in this garden’s silent grace,
My heart discovers its resting place.

Among the rocks older than light,
I learn the strength of ancient might,
And trees that sway with wisdom’s art,
Teach patience to my wandering heart.

O city of gardens, dreams, and rain,
You heal my spirit’s hidden pain,
And every path in Lalbagh’s shade,
Is poetry that nature made.

A First Glimpse of the Soul: The Impression I Wish to Leave

A First Glimpse of the Soul: The Impression I Wish to Leave

There is something magical about a first impression. It is like the opening note of a timeless melody, or the first brushstroke on a blank canvas—subtle, yet powerful enough to shape an entire perception. Over the years, as life has chiselled my personality through experiences, hardships, blessings, and wanderings across cultures, I have often pondered: What do I truly want people to feel when they meet me for the very first time?

In an age where people value speed over substance and instant judgement over quiet understanding, I wish my first impression to be a gentle countercurrent—something still, soothing, meaningful.

A Presence Rooted in Calm

If someone meets me briefly, I hope they sense serenity rather than agitation, warmth rather than distance. Life has taught me that calmness is not the absence of storms; it is the presence of an anchor.
I want people to feel that they are standing before someone who listens not merely with ears but with the heart—a person who has walked through fire and yet chooses to carry water for others.

A Mind Polished by Thought

An impression, to me, is not about appearing flawless; it is about being thoughtful.
Raised between the Himalayan grace of Nepal and the cultural depth of Odisha, enriched by Jesuit discipline and Punjabi affection, my mind has become a mosaic of philosophies, faiths, seasons, and stories.
So, when people meet me, I hope they detect—in the first few sentences—a mind that has reflected deeply, questioned bravely, and accepted humbly.

Kindness Without Drama

In my first impression, I hope kindness stands taller than credentials.
I have met ambassadors, leaders, artists and thinkers—and yet the most unforgettable among them were never the most powerful; they were the most humane.
If someone recalls me later, I wish they remember a steady, gentle presence—someone who offered respect before receiving it, someone who made them feel valued in the simplest of ways.

Strength Behind Softness

Softness is often mistaken for weakness, but my softness has come from surviving storms that were meant to silence me.
My first impression should quietly whisper this paradox:
A gentle man can also be a strong man.
I want people to see a spirit that has endured loneliness, loss, and reinvention—and still chooses hope over hatred and effort over excuses.

A Philosophy Worn, Not Preached

Let my first impression be a lived philosophy.
A belief that life is not a race but a pilgrimage, not a competition but a conversation.
If someone walks away after meeting me, I hope they carry a pinch of peace, a drop of thought, or a spark of inspiration—anything that brings light to their own journey.

May my first hello be gentle,
A breeze that cools the day;
A voice that carries kindness,
In a soft, unhurried way.

May my presence be like morning,
Calm, expectant, still;
A hint of quiet strength beneath
A tempered human will.

May people sense a river,
Deep, yet flowing slow;
A soul that walks with wisdom
Wherever life may go.

And if they ever remember me,
Let it be for this impression—
Not grandeur, nor perfection,
But a heart in true expression

“The Treasure I Never Found”

“The Treasure I Never Found”

There are stories of people stumbling upon treasures — a long-lost coin glinting in the sand, an old letter tucked behind a cupboard, or a childhood trinket rediscovered in the attic. The world seems to delight in rewarding those who chance upon forgotten wonders. But as for me — I must confess — I have never found a thing worth keeping. Not even a lost button that could claim some sentimental worth!

Perhaps, fate has decided that my share of treasures must come not from things, but from thoughts. While others have tales of lucky finds, I have had only fleeting moments that slip like sand through my fingers — a smile from a stranger, a sunset too beautiful to photograph, a tune that hummed itself into silence. Each time I tried to hold on, life whispered, “Not everything found can be kept.”

As a child, I dug under mango trees in the hope of finding ancient coins — none appeared. As an adult, I rummaged through drawers expecting to find forgotten notes — not a penny. Even my attempts to unearth “treasures of wisdom” often ended in misplaced spectacles or vanished pens! It seems the universe delights in keeping me guessing, while others walk away with their pockets full of surprises.

But over time, I realised something profound: the coolest thing I never found is perhaps contentment in not finding. There’s a certain liberation in emptiness — a quiet joy in knowing that life owes me no souvenirs. The beauty of the journey lies not in what we clutch, but in what we observe, feel, and remember.

So, while others boast of coins, curios, and crystals, I celebrate my unclaimed discoveries — laughter shared with family, moments of solitude that bred creativity, and memories that outshine material finds. Maybe the coolest thing I ever found is that I needn’t find anything at all.

And as for ending on a lighter note — here’s my poetic confession:

I sought for gold beneath the ground,
But worms were all that I had found.
I searched the attic, dust and gloom —
Sneezed my way right out the room!

I checked my coat for coins of yore,
Just lint and crumbs — and nothing more!
Yet through it all, I’ve come to see,
The best finds… often find you — free!

So if life’s pockets turn out bare,
Don’t sulk or curse what isn’t there;
For laughter’s light and friendship’s sound —
Are treasures best when never found!

The Shadows and Silhouettes of Fame

The Shadows and Silhouettes of Fame

Fame is a curious creature — radiant, restless, and often elusive. It glitters in the distance like a beacon calling out to millions, yet when you come close enough to touch it, you realise it is made as much of fragility as of fire. Having spent decades as a teacher and Principal in premier institutions, my professional journey often meandered through corridors where fame walked in its many forms — ambassadors with poised grace, bureaucrats wrapped in quiet power, politicians with persuasive charm, movie stars with that unmissable aura, writers who could turn silence into sentences, educationists who sculpted minds, sportsmen whose discipline became worship, and musicians who could turn a room into a temple of rhythm.

Yet, to name them would be an injustice — not out of secrecy, but out of sanctity. For every famous or infamous person I met was, at the core, just human — vulnerable, searching, yearning to be understood beyond the weight of their name. Some carried their fame like a fragrant flower, others like a thorn in the flesh. Some were humbled by applause; others enslaved by it. In those exchanges, I learnt that fame and infamy are often twin faces of the same coin, tossed by time and judged by perception.

As an educator, I observed with fascination how fame could elevate or erode character. The young dreamt of being known; the wise dreamt of being remembered for the right reasons. Between the two lies the true test of life — not to seek recognition, but to seek purpose. When I stood beside those whose names adorned newspapers or echoed through television channels, I often wondered: is fame a blessing, or a burden?

There were moments of revelation — a famous musician who confessed that applause no longer reached his heart; a celebrated author who felt lonely amidst literary circles; a sportsman who missed the innocence of the first game he ever played. Each encounter reminded me that beneath the sheen of fame lies the same heart that beats within us all — fragile, hopeful, and profoundly human.

Fame, I realised, is not measured by how many know your name, but by how deeply your presence touches lives. Some of the most inspiring souls I met were not famous at all — perhaps a humble teacher, a silent worker, or a compassionate student who lit up another’s world quietly. True greatness often wears no spotlight.

And so, I cherish not the glamour that came my way, but the grace that each encounter left behind — the warmth of a handshake, the sincerity of an exchange, the humility of a great mind that still chose to listen.

Because when the lights dim and applause fades, what remains is the echo of your deeds, not your name.

When fame departs and silence stays,
When lights grow dim and colours haze,
It’s not the name the world will say,
But hearts you touched along the way.

For stars may fade, their shine may cease,
But souls that serve shall rest in peace.
The truest fame, so pure, so deep,
Is love we sow, and memories we keep.

Book Review: “Physics Test Series for Class XI ”

Book Review: “Physics Test Series for Class XI ”

About the Book

“Physics Test Series for Class XI ”” is a masterpiece that bridges the gap between theoretical understanding and practical application. Covering the complete syllabus of senior secondary Physics — from Units like Laws of Motion and Gravitation to Thermodynamics, Oscillations, and Waves — this book serves as a one-stop solution for learners aspiring to master Physics at the board and competitive levels.

Every chapter begins with a crisp introduction, followed by important definitions, laws, derivations, and formulae, and concludes with conceptual, analytical, and numerical problems that match the standards of CBSE, ICSE, State Boards, JEE, NEET, and A Levels. The clarity of explanation and logical progression of ideas make this book a dependable companion for both classroom learning and self-study.

About the Author

Authored by Prashant Kumar Lal, an experienced educator and former Principal with over 38 years of dedicated service in the field of education, this book reflects his profound understanding of Physics and his passion for teaching. Having trained thousands of students and teachers, and authored several acclaimed works such as Image of My Experiences, Speeches from the Desk of the Principal, and Physics Test Series for Class XII, Mr. Lal brings both academic rigour and a human touch to this volume. His ability to simplify complex ideas without compromising on depth sets this work apart from conventional textbooks.

Target Readers

This book is ideal for:

– Senior Secondary Students (Classes XI & XII) preparing for CBSE, ICSE, and State Board examinations.

– JEE and NEET aspirants who aim for conceptual clarity and numerical accuracy.

– A Level and IGCSE students seeking a balanced and comprehensive reference.

– Teachers and mentors who wish to use it as a structured teaching resource.

– Parents and academic institutions that value quality educational content with a learner-centred approach.

Unique Selling Proposition (USP)

– Comprehensive Coverage of the entire syllabus with depth and precision.

– Blend of Concept and Application—ideal for both theory and problem-solving.

– Exam-Oriented Presentation with graded questions (1, 2, 3 & 5 marks).

– Competitive Edge—designed keeping JEE, NEET, and A Level standards in mind.

– Author’s Legacy—reflects the wisdom, discipline, and empathy of an educator who has lived Physics both as a science and as a philosophy.

Final Verdict

“Physics Test Series for Class XI ” isn’t just another textbook—it’s a journey into the heart of Physics. Its lucid explanations, systematic structure, and challenging exercises make it a must-have for every serious learner. Whether you are a student striving for excellence, a teacher seeking precision, or a parent looking for the right guide for your child, this book promises to illuminate the path with clarity and confidence.

A complete conceptual and numerical companion for mastering Physics.

Where Every Tail Tells a Story

“Where Every Tail Tells a Story”

There are few joys in life as pure and heartwarming as having a pet. The gentle wag of a dog’s tail, the soft purr of a cat curling on your lap, or even the quiet flutter of a bird greeting the morning sun can fill the emptiest corners of a home with laughter and love. Pets, in their innocent simplicity, bring out the most human qualities within us—compassion, patience, responsibility, and unspoken affection.

Having a pet is much more than an act of companionship; it is a silent conversation between souls. They ask for little—just food, care, and attention—but they give back an abundance of warmth and loyalty. A pet’s presence has a remarkable ability to ease loneliness. After a long, tiring day, being greeted by an excited pet at the door feels like therapy without a prescription. Their joy is unfiltered, their love unconditional, and their sense of belonging unparalleled.

From a psychological point of view, pets reduce stress, anxiety, and depression. Studies have shown that stroking a pet lowers blood pressure and releases endorphins—nature’s own mood boosters. For children, pets become the first teachers of empathy and responsibility. For the elderly, they become living, breathing reminders that life still has purpose, warmth, and rhythm.

In a world that often moves too fast, pets remind us to slow down and savour the moment—to appreciate a morning walk, to enjoy a nap in the sun, or to simply listen to silence together. They do not care for our social status, wealth, or success; they love us for who we are, flaws and all. Isn’t that what true love means?

There is also a deep philosophical connection between humans and their pets. The ancient Egyptians revered cats as sacred beings, symbolising protection and grace. In Indian tradition, animals have always been part of the cosmic balance—representing loyalty, strength, and faithfulness. The dog that guards the threshold of Lord Yama, the cow revered as a mother, and the monkeys associated with Hanuman all remind us that animals, too, are threads in the divine fabric of life.

Having a pet transforms a house into a home. They listen without judgment, play without pretence, and forgive without hesitation. They remind us that affection doesn’t need words—it thrives in gestures, glances, and quiet companionship.

So, if you ever find your days growing dull or your evenings feeling too silent, consider opening your heart and home to a pet. You won’t just gain an animal; you’ll find a friend, a confidant, and a source of unconditional love.

As someone beautifully said, “Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.”

Echoes of Thought: The Podcasts That Resonate With My Soul

Echoes of Thought: The Podcasts That Resonate With My Soul

In an age where silence is a luxury and words are our constant companions, I find solace in the world of podcasts — those gentle streams of voices that stir ideas, ignite memories, and sometimes heal unseen wounds. My mornings, once adorned with the rustle of newspapers and the aroma of freshly brewed tea, now carry the mellifluous hum of conversations that traverse continents and centuries.

Podcasts, to me, are not mere digital monologues — they are dialogues with the self. They bring together history, science, philosophy, and poetry in an orchestra of intellect and emotion. From the cadence of a scholar explaining the cosmos to the warmth of a storyteller recounting an old folktale, every episode feels like a bridge between mind and heart.

One of my favourites is The Rest is History, where historians Tom Holland and Dominic Sandbrook transform dusty archives into living, breathing narratives. Their spirited exchanges bring alive the Roman Empire, the Indian subcontinent, and even the Cold War with such flair that I often feel I am sitting in a time machine rather than my living room.

When I crave something closer to home — philosophical yet tender — On Being with Krista Tippett becomes my sanctuary. Her soft-spoken wisdom and soulful interviews with poets, scientists, and theologians make me reflect upon life’s quiet purposes. Listening to her feels like meditating with words.

Then comes The Infinite Monkey Cage, a favourite for my scientific mind. Physicist Brian Cox and comedian Robin Ince blend science and humour into a delightful concoction. Their banter about black holes, quantum mysteries, and human absurdities keeps my Physics-loving heart alive and laughing.

On certain evenings, when nostalgia grips me, I turn to Desi Books — a voice that celebrates Indian writing and diasporic thought. It reminds me of the rhythm of regional languages, the philosophy of Indian storytelling, and the cultural kaleidoscope that defines my roots.

Each podcast I listen to becomes a small pilgrimage — a walk through thoughts that are new yet familiar, challenging yet comforting. They remind me that learning never ends, that curiosity is the finest form of prayer, and that the human voice, when sincere, can be the most profound teacher.

Podcasts are, in truth, my companions of solitude. They keep me company on long walks, during silent afternoons, or when I sit by the window watching clouds drift across Bangalore’s moody sky. In their echoes, I find not just entertainment but enlightenment — not just information but introspection.

So if you ask me what I listen to, I’d say — I listen to life itself, through voices that dare to think, question, and dream.

In whispered tones and fleeting words,
I meet the world unseen,
Through echoes deep, where thought occurs,
And silence finds its sheen.

A voice, a pause, a world anew,
Unfolds within my mind,
For podcasts are — both old and true —
The mirrors of mankind.

Through the Glass Screen, Darkly: My Tryst with Digital Discipline”

“Through the Glass Screen, Darkly: My Tryst with Digital Discipline”

There was a time when screens were mere rectangles of curiosity — a television set in the living room, a desktop humming in the corner, a rare luxury in the early mornings or late evenings. Today, they are the very air we breathe — phones, laptops, tablets, televisions, watches, all demanding a slice of our attention like persistent guests overstaying their welcome.

Managing screen time, therefore, is no longer a simple act of switching off a device; it’s about reclaiming one’s mind from the maze of algorithms, notifications, and digital dependencies.

The Problem: When Screens Steal Time Silently

It begins innocently — a quick glance at the phone after breakfast, a scroll through the news, a peek into social media, a reply to an email. Before long, hours slip away like sand through loose fingers. The eyes ache, the neck stiffens, and the mind feels oddly cluttered. Yet, the hand instinctively reaches again for that glowing rectangle — as if the world might collapse without another update.

The real danger lies not in technology itself, but in the subtle addiction to “connection.” We check not because we need to, but because we fear missing out. A creeping anxiety emerges — the digital fatigue — where one feels busy but unproductive, informed but unfocused, connected yet lonely.

The Insight: Understanding the Digital Mirror

Screen time is not just a measure of hours; it’s a mirror reflecting how we prioritise our lives. Each notification represents a choice — between presence and distraction, between creation and consumption.

When I looked closely, I realised my screen habits followed emotional patterns. Fatigue made me scroll more. Boredom led me to random videos. Stress pushed me towards endless reading. The problem wasn’t only the device — it was my mind seeking instant solace.

That was the turning point — understanding that technology is neutral. It amplifies either our focus or our fragmentation, depending on how we engage with it.

The Solution: My Formula for Digital Balance

1. Scheduled Silence:
I now observe two “screen-fasting” hours a day — one early morning and one before bedtime. These hours belong to reading, prayer, reflection, or simply observing life without filters.

2. The Golden Hour Rule:
No screen is touched during meals or family time. Conversations taste better than notifications.

3. Purposeful Logging:
Before opening any app, I ask, “Why am I here?” If the answer is vague, I close it.

4. The Physical Reminder:
My phone sleeps in another room at night. It sounds simple, but it has transformed my mornings from mechanical swipes to mindful awakenings.

5. The ‘Analogue Hour’:
Each day, I spend at least one hour doing something tangible — writing in a notebook, playing the harmonium, watering plants, or walking outdoors. It refreshes the senses dulled by pixels.

The Reward: From Restless Tapping to Restful Thinking

Once I reclaimed my hours, I discovered a quiet joy in slowness. Books whispered more deeply. Music sounded purer. Conversations grew warmer. Time, once stolen by screens, began to return — not in abundance, but in quality.

Digital discipline, I realised, is not about rejecting technology but redefining its purpose. The aim is not to escape the digital world, but to live above it — using it as a tool, not as a tether.

Epilogue: The Screen and the Soul

Perhaps, in the end, it’s not the screen that needs managing — it’s the self behind it. The glow of the screen can never outshine the glow of a contented heart.

So now, I remind myself each evening:

“Switch off the light, not the life.
Let the stars, not the screen, guide your night.”

Borrowed Moments: Do You Need Time?”

“Borrowed Moments: Do You Need Time?”

Time — that invisible traveller, moving with neither haste nor rest, yet leaving footprints on every soul it passes. It is both our most loyal companion and our most elusive captor. We chase it, curse it, plead with it, and yet, when it stands still for a moment of bliss, we hardly notice its grace. Do we really need time, or do we merely need to understand it?

From the first cry at birth to the final whisper of farewell, life unfolds like a fragile manuscript written on the parchment of time. Each second is a syllable, each hour a sentence, and each year a chapter — some joyous, some tragic, all irreversible. Philosophers call it a river that cannot be stepped into twice; saints call it Maya, the grand illusion that veils eternity.

The dilemma of time lies in its duality. It heals, yet it hurts; it builds, yet it breaks. The same clock that ticks beside a child’s cradle tolls beside an old man’s bed. In its impartial rhythm, we discover both our insignificance and our sacredness. Time reminds us that nothing is permanent — and in that impermanence lies beauty.

Spiritually, time is not just a measurement — it is a teacher. It humbles the arrogant, consoles the grieving, and purifies the seeker. It whispers to the restless mind, “Be still — eternity dwells within you.” In meditative silence, one begins to feel that time is not passing outside, but unfolding within. What we call minutes and hours are but waves upon the ocean of consciousness.

And yet, in our modern existence, we barter time as though it were currency. We “save time”, “spend time”, and “waste time” — forgetting that it cannot be owned, only experienced. The irony is sharp: we have clocks on our wrists but no rhythm in our souls. We are prisoners of appointments, not pilgrims of awareness.

So, do we need time? Perhaps not as a measure — but as a mirror. It reflects the journey of our becoming. Without it, growth would be frozen; memories would have no fragrance; forgiveness would lose its healing. Time is not the enemy of eternity — it is its language.

Let us then not fight time, but flow with it. Not fear its passing, but feel its pulse within. To live with time wisely is to live beyond it — where every moment is complete, and every breath eternal.

When hours slip through the fingers of dawn,
And twilight hums a forgotten song,
Pause — for in silence you may find,
The timeless truth that frees the mind.

Do not chase the ticking chime,
For you are the keeper — not of time.
In every breath, the cosmos plays,
Eternity woven through fleeting days.

So when the sun sets, soft and slow,
And shadows dance in evening’s glow,
Remember — the moment you truly see,
Is the moment you’re set eternally free.