The Circle of Wisdom: Voices That Guide Me Through Life

The Circle of Wisdom: Voices That Guide Me Through Life

In the theatre of life, where the curtains rise on dilemmas and decisions each day, we all need a few steadfast voices—wise, weathered, and well-meaning—to illuminate our path. For me, these voices do not arrive with fanfare or parade titles, but rather, with the quiet strength of wisdom, earned through time, toil, and truth.

1. The Saints and Sages of Yore
Long before I sat in the Principal’s chair or put pen to paper for poetry or policy, I found myself drawn to the ancient voices—Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, Swami Vivekananda, Saint Augustine, Kabir, and the quiet meditations of the Buddha. Their words are timeless, as if echoing from some sacred mountain. When the world feels too loud or my thoughts too scattered, I often leaf through their teachings. They don’t offer quick fixes, but the deeper kind of advice—on duty, detachment, compassion, and clarity.

2. The Philosophers’ Bench
When the rational mind stirs and seeks direction, I turn to Socrates, Marcus Aurelius, and Bertrand Russell. They do not provide me ready-made answers, but prod me to ask better questions. Whether it’s Stoicism in a storm or scepticism in a sermon, these thinkers teach me the power of patient inquiry and the grace of uncertainty. They remind me that sometimes, just staying still and reflecting is an act of boldness.

3. Educational Thought-Leaders
As a lifelong educator, the insights of Maria Montessori, John Dewey, and Dr A.P.J. Abdul Kalam have shaped not only my profession but my perspective. These thinkers have advised me silently through the chalk dust and staffroom chatter, reminding me that education is not just instruction but inspiration. Dr Kalam, especially, stands out as a beacon for those who dare to dream but are burdened by their circumstances.

4. The Literary Seers
When I need emotional resonance or a deeper understanding of the human psyche, I resort to the likes of Rabindranath Tagore, George Orwell, and R.K. Narayan. Their narratives, poems, and prose do not always offer advice in a didactic sense, but in their characters, conflicts, and conclusions, I find guidance, reflection, and sometimes, relief.

5. My Teachers and Mentors
From Jesuit Fathers who opened the doors of logic and language to me, to stalwart Headmasters and College Professors who bore the weight of my inquisitiveness with patient smiles—I carry their voices in my mind like annotated bookmarks. Their advice, sometimes curt and often candid, still echoes during my writing, planning, or mentoring.

6. The Anonymous Stranger
Odd though it may seem, I often find wisdom in unexpected conversations—with a co-traveller on a train, a shopkeeper’s honest observation, or a porter’s poetic simplicity. These ‘ordinary’ people, unadorned by fame or following, have gifted me extraordinary insight at crucial junctures. Life has its way of slipping in lessons through unnamed teachers.

7. The Inner Guide
And then, there’s the quiet counsel that rises from within—a synthesis of all the voices I’ve absorbed. Call it intuition, or perhaps the whispered mercy of the Divine. It surfaces when I least expect it but need it most. The more I listen to it, the clearer it becomes.
Advice is not merely sought; it is sensed, sifted, and sanctified through experience. The people I admire and listen to are not just repositories of knowledge—they are reflectors of truth, humility, and humanity. They don’t chart my path, but they light it just enough for me to take the next step.

As the saying goes, “A wise man learns more from a foolish question than a fool learns from a wise answer.” I choose to stay a lifelong learner, surrounded by this quiet circle of wisdom.

“Casting a Vote, Casting a Voice: Why I Still Queue at the Ballot Box”

“Casting a Vote, Casting a Voice: Why I Still Queue at the Ballot Box”

“Do you vote?” – an innocent enough question that often meets with a shrug, a smirk, or worse, a cynical retort: “What difference does it make?” I do vote. Religiously, responsibly, and resolutely. And each time I do, I carry not just a voter ID card but the legacy of those who fought hard for this fundamental right. Yet, the increasing apathy around me is deeply unsettling.

In a world swirling with digital activism, hashtags, and endless debates on WhatsApp forwards, it bewilders me that people still choose silence on the one day that truly counts. Isn’t it ironic that some of the most opinionated people are also those who skip the ballot box?

Voting is more than a ritual. It is a statement of belief, a whisper that becomes a roar when joined by millions. For a democracy to thrive, every vote must count—and more importantly, must be counted. It’s the most peaceful revolution one can participate in, the quiet power of a tick mark on a slip of paper (or a button on an electronic machine) that can build or break policies, principles, and public priorities.

Historically, men and women across continents gave blood, sweat, and tears for enfranchisement. From the suffragette marches in Britain to the civil rights movement in America, the struggle was steep and often brutal. In India, the right to vote was embedded in the very idea of a sovereign republic from Day One. What a proud and progressive start! And yet, decades later, we find ourselves battling disinterest.

Why do so many abstain?

Perhaps it’s disillusionment, a belief that politicians are all the same, that change is but an illusion. Or maybe it’s sheer convenience—holidays, weather, and “something came up” excuses. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: if we don’t vote, we lose the moral right to complain. As the saying goes, “Bad officials are elected by good citizens who do not vote.”

When I walk into a polling station, I see democracy in action—rustic, raw, and real. The indelible ink on my finger is more than a mark; it’s a badge of honour. A small act, yes, but mighty in consequence. I vote not just for a candidate or a party but for accountability, vision, and the hope of a better tomorrow.

Let us not underestimate the weight of a single vote. It has swung fortunes, flipped constituencies, and echoed dissent in the chambers of power. One vote is the silent scream against tyranny, the unsung note of support for reform, the humble nudge toward justice.

So to those who stand at the edge of apathy, I urge: step in. Participate. Engage. Critique, if you must—but after you’ve cast your vote. Democracy, after all, is not a spectator sport.

As for me, I’ll continue to queue up, ballot in hand, heart full of hope. Because every vote is not just a choice—it’s a voice. And I intend to be heard.

The Compass Within: Finding Bearings in Life’s Tempestuous Voyage“

“The Compass Within: Finding Bearings in Life’s Tempestuous Voyage“

What gives one direction in life? This question, like the North Star to an ancient mariner, has guided civilisations, steered sages, and anchored the lost souls of wandering hearts. For me, direction is not a mere GPS-like signal but a soulful convergence of purpose, philosophy, and providence.

Life, in its unpredictable odyssey, is often akin to sailing without a map. Storms brew, winds deceive, and yet, some invisible compass gently nudges the sailor onward. For some, that compass is ambition. For others, it is service, spiritual yearning, or the hunger to leave a mark upon the sands of time. Mine has been an evolving narrative — a tapestry woven with threads of education, introspection, and the sheer will to mean something to someone, somewhere.

Growing up amidst limitations and aspirations, I often leaned on what I now call the ‘inner lighthouse’ — a silent, steadfast presence that neither flickered with failure nor flared with success. It came alive through verses I read, faces I admired, and values I held sacred. Faith, not necessarily religious but deeply spiritual, served as my anchor. It reminded me that even the darkest clouds could not dim a soul lit with belief.

Direction in life is not a fixed railway track; it is more like a meandering stream — changing its course when met with rocks, yet always finding a way forward. I have stumbled more than once, hit dead ends, and questioned the very soil I stood on. But every stumble was a silent sermon, every fall a footnote of wisdom.

Books — both sacred and secular — have also played the role of navigators. Whether it was the thunderous whispers of Shakespeare, the poignant agony of Rumi, or the pragmatic laws of physics, each offered a lantern to hold in the dark alleys of confusion.

Of course, one must speak of values — those oft-neglected compasses hidden in plain sight. Integrity, humility, perseverance, and gratitude — these are not just noble words tucked in essays but living forces. They don’t just give direction; they define it. As the saying goes, “If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.” These values ensured I stood — even if alone, even if uncelebrated.

The role of silence, too, cannot be overstated. In a world that chatters relentlessly, silence is the most underrated mentor. It is in silence that one hears the whispers of destiny, feels the nudge of one’s conscience, and dares to question, “Am I walking my true path, or just going with the herd?”

To the reader asking this same question today, I offer no compass but a candle. Light it with honesty, shield it with faith, and walk through your shadows. Life may not always make sense, but it will slowly reveal meaning.

In the grand bazaar of life, where everyone is rushing somewhere, finding direction is not about pace — it’s about poise. One may walk slow, but with the right bearings, even the slowest march leads to the summit.

So, what gives me direction in life?
A blend of hope, purpose, and a refusal to drift aimlessly. The belief that I am not merely passing through time, but shaping it with every step. That every morning is not just a day to survive, but a call to serve. And that somewhere, in this magnificent maze, there is a path — mine alone — waiting to be walked with grace, grit, and Godspeed.

To Strive, Not to Yield: A Life Anchored in Effort and Faith

“To Strive, Not to Yield: A Life Anchored in Effort and Faith”

There is a quiet yet potent wisdom in the belief I hold close to my heart—“Try your best, and leave the rest to destiny or God.” It may sound simple, but within its folds lies a lifetime of resilience, toil, surrender, and serenity.

In the theatre of life, I have played many roles—some scripted, others improvised under the glaring spotlight of uncertainty. Yet, the one thread that has held me together through all scenes, tragic or triumphant, is this guiding belief. I have never claimed mastery over the outcome, nor have I deluded myself with the illusion of complete control. Instead, I have found solace in hard work and the unshakeable ground of integrity, trusting that what is meant to unfold will do so in its own time.

The Bhagavad Gita, a scripture I often return to in times of doubt, says:
“Karmanye vadhikaraste, ma phaleshu kadachana”—
“You have the right to perform your actions, but not to the fruits thereof.”
What a liberating thought! The pressure to succeed, to outshine, to conquer—it melts away when one learns to be devoted to effort rather than to reward.

Like a sailor who rows with all his might against a raging tide but never tries to command the sea, I have chosen to focus on my deeds while leaving the currents of life to the divine mariner. There is peace in this posture. There is honour too.

In a world increasingly driven by quick gains, instant recognition, and visible achievements, holding onto such a principle is akin to swimming against the tide. But I have seen enough of life to know that even if the fruit doesn’t fall into your basket, the labour isn’t in vain. It builds character. It shapes the unseen fabric of one’s destiny.

I recall moments of sheer exhaustion—emotional, financial, and spiritual—when nothing seemed to bear fruit. Yet, not once did I consider taking the crooked path. Why? Because when you walk the straight road, even in silence, your footsteps echo with pride. I’ve often told myself, “Do your duty, and let the skies decide.” Sometimes, the skies are stormy. Sometimes, they open up to a bright dawn. Either way, my task remains the same—to keep walking.

This philosophy has not made me passive; rather, it has made me purposeful. It has taught me to care less about applause and more about authenticity. Like a potter focused on shaping the clay, not on where the pot will be displayed, I have stayed immersed in the joy of creation, of effort, and of doing what is right.

There’s an old idiom that says, “The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly fine.” Indeed, divine justice and destiny may move at their own pace, but they are precise and impartial. So, while I sow the seeds of hard work, I leave the harvest to the heavens.

In the end, this quote—my life’s quiet compass—has spared me the burden of regret and the madness of comparison. It has kept me grounded, hopeful, and grateful.

For all who toil and worry, I offer this: Try your best with all your heart, and leave the rest with folded hands. The universe has a way of rewarding the patient, the honest, and the tireless.

Let others chase the scoreboard. I choose to honour the game.

Under the Canvas of the Stars: A Life of Camping Adventures”

“Under the Canvas of the Stars: A Life of Camping Adventures”

There are few experiences as liberating, humbling, and life-affirming as sleeping under the open sky, far away from the din and clutter of civilisation. From my earliest years, camping has been not merely a pastime, but a way of connecting with nature, discovering inner resilience, and embracing the adventure that lies just beyond the next bend in the trail.

My journey into the world of camping began when most children were still wrestling with their shoelaces. Trekking through dense forests, pitching tents on uneven ground, and rafting across wild, gurgling rivers became second nature to me. It was a life coloured with excitement, unpredictability, and a fair share of hard lessons — all of which stitched themselves into the fabric of who I am today.

There’s a certain magic about setting up camp in the heart of the wilderness. The whispering winds through the trees, the orchestra of crickets under a star-studded sky, and the crackle of a modest fire breaking the night’s silence — all create a symphony that no grand concert hall could ever match. Whether it was trudging along rocky trails, tackling rope climbs that tested both muscle and mettle, or honing the rudiments of basic mountaineering, each experience was a brushstroke on a canvas that painted the bold, untamed spirit of youth.

Over the years, my boots have trodden upon many awe-inspiring paths. I have camped in the rugged Mustang Hills of Nepal, where the arid landscape and ancient monasteries speak of forgotten times. Trekking through Pokhara, surrounded by the mighty Annapurna range, offered experiences both serene and sublime. I vividly recall the trek to the base camp of Kangchenjunga — the world’s third-highest peak — an odyssey through dense forests, remote villages, and chilling winds that humbled even the bravest souls.

India, with its tapestry of terrains, has also been a boundless playground. Scaling the trails of Nag Tibba in Uttarakhand, often dubbed the ‘Serpent’s Peak’, offered breathtaking views of snow-capped ranges. In Himachal Pradesh, Sungra — a quaint village perched above the Sutlej River — became a perfect camping site, where the night sky shimmered with a million stars and silence reigned supreme.

Then there was the exhilarating climb to Chor Peak, near the Shimla region, where the climb challenged not only physical strength but demanded grit and nerve. Camping amidst the wild expanses of Uttarkashi, with the Bhagirathi River roaring nearby, was a pure and raw experience — nature untamed and magnificent.

No account of my adventures would be complete without mentioning the waters that tested my spirit. Rafting in the swirling rapids of the Brahmaputra River, battling the fierce currents of the Teesta in Sikkim, and embracing the sacred yet powerful flows of the Ganges near Rishikesh were experiences that left an indelible mark. Riding the crests and troughs of those mighty rivers, one learns quickly that nature brooks no arrogance.

One of the most exhilarating aspects of camping was embarking on solo adventures. With only a backpack, a sturdy pair of boots, and an unquenchable thirst for exploration, I often set out to face the wild alone. These solitary journeys were more than mere escapades; they were profound lessons in self-reliance and inner dialogue. Nature, in her rawest form, has an uncanny ability to strip away pretence and lay bare the core of one’s character.

Of course, group expeditions added another flavour to my camping repertoire. There’s a camaraderie born on a trek that no other setting can foster. Sharing stories around the fire, pooling resources when the going got tough, and pulling each other up — sometimes quite literally — over challenging ridges forged bonds that would stand the test of time. In these moments, I truly understood the old adage, “A burden shared is a burden halved.”

Camping was never about mere survival; it was about thriving against the odds. It was about standing on a riverbank, raft slung on one shoulder, and daring the currents to try their worst. It was about scrambling up rugged slopes with the sun blazing overhead and finding, to one’s delight, that the summit was just a few determined steps away.

Even today, the call of the wild stirs something deep within me. The crackling campfires, the earthy scent of damp soil after rain, the first rays of dawn filtering through the fabric of the tent — these are not just memories; they are treasures, etched indelibly into the soul.

Camping taught me that life, much like the wild, does not always offer smooth paths or clear signposts. It demands adaptability, courage, patience, and an eye for beauty even in the roughest terrains. It showed me that beyond the safety of concrete walls and electronic screens lies a world teeming with raw, unpolished wonder, waiting for those brave enough to step outside.

As I look back on those countless nights spent under the canvas of the stars, I realise that camping was never simply an activity. It was, and remains, a philosophy — one that teaches us to pack light, tread softly, and savour every step of the journey, no matter how rugged the road ahead.

The Golden Hours of My Productivity: A Journey Within

The Golden Hours of My Productivity: A Journey Within

There is a peculiar rhythm to every individual’s day — a silent melody that dictates when we are most alive, most alert, and most productive. For me, the crescendo of my productivity does not arise from an alarm clock’s shrill cry or the mechanical ticking of a schedule, but rather from a harmonious blend of nature, mindset, and inner energy.

Mornings: The Sacred Symphony

It is in the stillness of early morning, before the cacophony of life takes over, that my mind dances with creativity. The freshness of dawn — when the sun gently yawns over the horizon, and the world is yet cloaked in a blanket of calm — ignites in me a unique clarity. The mind, untainted by the day’s demands, feels like a pristine canvas, ready to absorb, to reflect, and to create.

In these hours, ideas flow like a river unblocked by obstacles, words weave themselves into thoughtful expressions, and solutions to complex problems seem to emerge with ease. It feels almost magical — as though the universe itself whispers guidance into my ears.

The Midday Plateau: A Pause for Reflection

As the clock creeps towards noon, the brilliance of the morning begins to taper. The mind, having worked diligently, seeks a brief respite. Rather than fighting this natural dip, I have learned to embrace it. A short walk, a mindful breath, or a dive into a book allows me to refuel — like a ship anchoring momentarily before setting sail again.

It is during this interlude that new perspectives often emerge. Problems mulled over in the morning tend to unravel themselves while the mind is seemingly at rest. Truly, still waters run deep.

Evenings: The Flickering Flame

Evenings bring a different hue to productivity — one shaded by reflection rather than creation. Tasks requiring mechanical effort or structured execution find their place here. The mind, no longer sharp but still earnest, prefers to complete the day’s loops: responding to communications, organising thoughts for tomorrow, and drawing lessons from today’s endeavours.

By twilight, satisfaction or gentle disappointment tiptoes in, depending on the harvest of the day. Regardless, the flickering flame of evening reminds me that every day is a chapter, not the whole story.

Philosophical Musings: Productivity Beyond the Clock

Over the years, I have realised that productivity is not merely a matter of time management; it is soul management. Productivity peaks when one is in alignment with purpose and peace. Some of my most meaningful accomplishments have blossomed not during rigorous, scheduled hours, but during moments when I felt most connected with the inner self.

Ancient philosophers spoke often of Kairos — the opportune, divine moment — as distinct from Chronos, the ticking clock. In my journey, embracing Kairos has been key: recognising that true productivity is not about being constantly busy, but about being deeply present when it matters.

In Summation

To feel productive is to feel alive, fulfilled, and attuned to one’s inner compass. For me, the morning light is the golden thread that weaves my most productive hours. Yet, throughout the day, different shades of efficiency grace me, provided I remain mindful and adaptive.

In this dance between time and self, the real triumph lies not just in completing tasks but in finding joy, purpose, and a quiet pride in the way each day unfolds

The Half-Pant Diaries: Chronicles of Unforgettable Childhood

The Half-Pant Diaries: Chronicles of Unforgettable Childhood

A Timeless Tapestry of Innocence, Dreams, and Growing Up

About the Book

The Half-Pant Diaries: Chronicles of Unforgettable Childhood is more than just a collection of memories — it is a soul-stirring celebration of the most vibrant, tender, and formative years of life.
Through 102 delightfully woven chapters, the book paints a vivid picture of boarding school days, a world where half-pants symbolised not just uniforms but a carefree spirit, unfiltered dreams, innocent mischiefs, and the gradual awakening to life’s greater realities.

Each story is a gentle blend of humour, drama, wisdom, and poetry — chronicling a journey from playful pranks to profound reflections, from giggles shared in the corridors to moments of silent introspection under the starry sky. It captures the spirit of camaraderie, the pangs of growing up, the silent lessons taught outside classrooms, and the priceless treasures of human connection.

With rich narration and heartfelt epilogues, The Half-Pant Diaries becomes an intimate bridge between the reader’s heart and the beautiful memories of their own half-pant days.

What Makes The Half-Pant Diaries Unique (USP)

True-to-Life Boarding School Vignettes: Authentic, emotionally rich stories based on real-life experiences, presented with a magical touch of storytelling.

Layered Narratives: Each chapter holds multi-dimensional storytelling — humour laced with wisdom, mischief intertwined with morality, and innocence illuminated by budding maturity.

Visual and Poetic Language: Words that transport readers into bustling school corridors, sunlit playgrounds, quiet dormitories, and lively mess halls.

Universal Relatability: No matter where one grew up, the emotions are universal — dreams, fears, friendships, struggles, laughter, and hope.

A Manual for Heartfelt Living: While nostalgic, the book also gently reminds readers of the values that truly build a good life — gratitude, respect, resilience, and community spirit.

Why Should You Read This Book?

To relive the magic of your own childhood days.

To reflect on life’s simpler lessons learned beyond books.

To feel the warmth of innocent friendships and the pride of first victories.

To enjoy light-hearted drama, soul-touching stories, and life philosophies hidden in everyday moments.

To gift yourself a timeless journey back to a world of half-pants and whole-hearted living.

About the Author

The author, a seasoned educationist, former Principal, and lifelong mentor, brings a treasure trove of life’s experiences into this unforgettable collection. Having dedicated his career to nurturing young minds, he possesses a rare insight into the formative phases of life — when dreams are raw, mistakes are pure, and lessons leave a permanent mark on the soul.

His multicultural upbringing, academic leadership, and literary passion weave together to create a narrative that is both personal and universal. In The Half-Pant Diaries, he captures the essence of youthful spirit, compassion, and growth, offering a memoir that feels like a friend’s heartfelt conversation.

Final Words

The Half-Pant Diaries: Chronicles of Unforgettable Childhood is not merely a journey into the past — it is a celebration of who we were, how we grew, and the lasting imprints of a childhood well-lived.
This book promises not only nostalgia but also timeless lessons in kindness, gratitude, resilience, and joy.

Step into these pages to rediscover the half-pant version of yourself — brimming with dreams, daring, and delightful imperfections!

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