Still in the Arena: Carving New Paths After the Bell Rings

Still in the Arena: Carving New Paths After the Bell Rings

“Retirement,” they say, “is the end of a career.” I beg to differ. To me, it is not a full stop but a semicolon—a pause, perhaps, but never an end. After decades in education—designing systems, mentoring educators, steering institutions, and shaping young lives—I find myself not in retreat, but in realignment.

The fire to contribute still crackles within me, and my pen, once used to correct notebooks and sign certificates, now flows freely with reflections, reason, and revelation.

A New Chapter with Familiar Ink

As an author of multiple books—ranging from poetry and motivational addresses to subject-wise test series and even fiction—I now see writing as both legacy and lifeline. Titles like Image of My Experiences, Speeches from the Desk of the Principal, and The Legend of Inara Wali are not just publications; they are pages of my personal evolution. I have authored 23 books so far. Through each work, I reach out to kindred minds, sharing lessons, laughter, laments, and a lingering hope for a better world.

My Career Plan? A Purposeful Continuum.

I now walk a path that blends lived experience with literary endeavour, bridging school corridors with written words, and daily thoughts with deeper philosophies.

1. Educational Consultancy with Integrity
Through Prashant Educational Consultancy Services, I offer tailored support to schools navigating the turbulent waters of modern-day education. Be it restructuring academic frameworks, organising teacher training, or streamlining student services—I provide hands-on solutions grounded in decades of practical insight.

2. Writing as Reflection and Revolution
The writer in me is more than a chronicler; he is a crusader. My blogs and books strive to stir minds and soothe souls. I explore history, law, mythology, and educational policy—always with a critical eye and a compassionate heart. Writing has become both my profession and my prayer.

3. Training and Thought Leadership
Having spent years mentoring faculty and engaging with learners, I now offer workshops and talks that blend old-world wisdom with contemporary relevance. From leadership training to parenting insights, I continue to share what life has so patiently taught me.

4. Remaining Adaptable and Aware
I keep my roots firm and my branches flexible. I actively follow global pedagogical trends, technological shifts, and social transformations. I believe the mind must be like a parachute—open to function. I seek, I read, I reflect.

Challenges Are There—but So Are Choices
Yes, age-related bias persists. The perception that one becomes redundant post-retirement is a sad cultural flaw. But I prefer to focus on my circle of influence, not the limits imposed by others. Instead of lamenting lost chances, I nurture new ones.

The Mission Remains

My journey now is not about career ladders, but about purpose-filled platforms. I may no longer be called ‘Sir’ in bustling corridors, but I remain a lifelong teacher. I may not clock in at 8 AM, but I remain ever-on-duty in thought and expression.

I write. I guide. I grow. I contribute.

Because once a mentor, always a mentor. Once a writer, always a seeker. And once a Principal, always a custodian of young dreams and better tomorrows.

The arena may look different now, but I am still in it—pen in hand, purpose intact.

Kaifi Ki Kahani: An Evening of Verse, Valor and Velvet Memories

Kaifi Ki Kahani: An Evening of Verse, Valor and Velvet Memories

Bangalore has its share of evenings steeped in art, but every once in a while, there arrives a moment that transcends performance—it becomes poetry in motion, memory in the making. One such evening unfurled before me in the gentle embrace of Kaifi Aur Main, a dramatised reading that blurred the lines between stage and soul.

Curated with affection and intellectual elegance, the show unravelled the epic of Kaifi Azmi—not just as a poet of protest, but as a man who lived his verses. The narrative moved seamlessly between his revolutionary writings, his romance with Shaukat Kaifi, and the political fire that fuelled his pen. It was not a linear biography but a lyrical tapestry, embroidered with love letters, hunger strikes, film lyrics, and flaming verses.

Shabana Azmi, poised and powerful, channelled her mother with breathtaking depth. Reading from Yaad Ki Rahguzar, she offered more than words—she gifted us moments.

“Main chali thi unse milne, Kaifi Azmi se. Milne gayi thi ek shaayar se… aur laut aayi ek inquilabi ke saath.”
(I had gone to meet a poet… but returned with a revolutionary.)

The auditorium, usually restless with the shuffle of feet and phones, sat entranced. Silence became sacred.

The script, co-authored and directed with restraint and brilliance, flowed through Kaifi’s personal letters, political convictions, and poetic reflections. Atul Tiwari (or another seasoned narrator) delivered the commentary with the cadence of a companion looking back—not with nostalgia alone, but with the weight of lived truth.

Kaifi’s own voice, crackling from old recordings, suddenly filled the room, reciting lines like:

“Aurat ne janam diya mardon ko, mardon ne use bazaar diya…”
(Woman gave birth to man, and he returned the favour by casting her into the marketplace…)

That verse hit like thunder—reminding us that Kaifi’s ink was soaked in the blood of social injustice and lit with the fire of reform. He wasn’t merely an observer; he was a participant in the revolution of hearts and headlines.

Yet it was not all fire and fury. There was romance too—delicate and defiant. In one passage, Shaukat writes about the time Kaifi mailed her a letter proposing marriage, ending it with:

“Main aapko pasand karta hoon. Agar aap razi hain toh jawab dein. Agar nahi, toh is baat ko chhod dein jaise yeh kabhi hua hi na ho.”
(I like you. If you agree, please reply. If not, forget this as though it never happened.)

The simplicity of the line brought chuckles, sighs, and knowing smiles. This was love, Kaifi-style—honest, urgent, and poetic.

In the latter part of the performance, as Shabana recounted her father’s final moments, her voice faltered—not in weakness, but in reverence. There was a passage that will stay with me forever:

“Kaifi sahab ne aakhri waqt mein apne haathon se mera haath pakad kar kaha – Shabbo, main jaa raha hoon. Apna khayal rakhna…”
(Kaifi Sahib, holding my hand with his own, said: Shabbo, I am going. Take care of yourself…)

Not a whisper stirred after that. The air was dense, not with sadness, but with awe. The standing ovation that followed was less for the performance and more for the presence—of Kaifi, of Shaukat, of all those souls who once dreamed aloud in verse.

As I stepped out into the Bangalore night, I felt lighter yet deeper, moved yet steadied. I was reminded of what Kaifi once said:

“Main akela hi chala tha janib-e-manzil magar,
Log saath aate gaye aur kaarvaan banta gaya.”
(I set off alone toward my destination,
But people kept joining—and it became a caravan.)

Indeed, that evening, we had all joined Kaifi’s caravan—for an hour or two, we lived in his world. And what a world it was.

Kindling the Common Flame: My Journey Through Community Involvement

Kindling the Common Flame: My Journey Through Community Involvement

There’s an old proverb that says, “A single stick breaks easily, but a bundle is unbreakable.” This, in essence, is the spirit of community — a mosaic of souls moving together toward a shared good. As someone who has spent decades shaping young minds and nurturing institutions, the desire to stay meaningfully tethered to the community did not retire when I did. If anything, it intensified.

From Authority to Affinity
During my years as a school Principal, community engagement came by default — parent-teacher interactions, civic partnerships, outreach programmes, and educational camps were part of my calendar. But post-retirement, the challenge became how to stay engaged not by title, but by intent. That required reinventing myself, not as a retired educator, but as a citizen still carrying the torch of service.

Wearing Many Hats, Carrying One Heart
I began modestly — volunteering at local schools, mentoring young teachers, and conducting workshops on educational leadership. These sessions were not sermons from the mount, but shared stories of struggle, strategies, and silent triumphs. What surprised me was the thirst among young educators and students to connect with lived wisdom, not just textbook theory.

Beyond classrooms, I made it a point to attend community meetings, participate in environmental drives, and speak at local cultural gatherings. Each interaction was a thread, weaving me back into the social fabric. “Out of sight, out of mind,” some say, but I learned that “presence is a silent poem,” and just showing up matters.

The Power of Listening
Community involvement is not only about what you offer; it’s also about what you absorb. I made it a practice to listen — to local shopkeepers, workers, librarians, youth at parks — anyone who bore a story. These voices, often brushed aside in the race of modern life, held the pulse of the locality. Their tales, raw and unscripted, reminded me that every man is a volume if you know how to read him.

Digital Bonds, Real Roots
While my fingers fumble with touchscreens more than they glide, I ventured into digital communities too. Online forums for retired professionals, social service groups, and virtual workshops helped me expand my reach beyond the postcodes I dwell in. The irony of modern times is that while the world has become smaller, true connection has grown rarer. But where there’s authenticity, even pixels can pulse with purpose.

The Inner Community
Not all engagement is outward. Some of the most powerful community work begins within. Through introspection, prayer, and self-education, I try to remain a well that does not run dry. A vibrant inner world allows one to bring clarity, compassion, and creativity to the outer one.

Leaving Footprints, Not Just Impressions
True community involvement is not about grand gestures. It is in the art of consistency — a kind word, a well-timed suggestion, a willingness to walk beside rather than ahead. In doing so, we don’t just touch lives; we become part of the collective heartbeat.

So, when asked, “What do you do to be involved in the community?” I reply — I remain reachable, relevant, and real. I may no longer wear a badge or wield a title, but I carry a lamp lit long ago, and I strive to pass its flame forward — kindling the common light, one interaction at a time.

A Day in the Judge’s Robe: If Only for a While

A Day in the Judge’s Robe: If Only for a While

There are many roles in the world that dazzle with power, prestige, or passion. Some come with the glory of applause, others with the burden of responsibility. But if given the chance to step into a profession for just one day—not for gain or glory, but for experience and introspection—I would choose to be a Judge.

Yes, for a single day, I would don the solemn black robe, sit on the elevated dais of justice, and feel the weight of impartiality wrap around me like a mantle forged from the very essence of ethics and law.

Why the judiciary? Because it is one of the few callings where silence speaks, where pauses are potent, and where words can either liberate or condemn. A judge does not chase popularity, nor do they bask in the limelight. Instead, they stand—or rather sit—as the embodiment of balance, morality, and interpretation.

Just for that one day, I would like to walk through the hallowed corridors of the court, feel the echoes of past judgments in the air, and take my seat not to impose power, but to uphold Dharma—the righteous path as extolled in our ancient scriptures and mirrored in the Magna Carta’s promise of justice. I would listen—truly listen—with the ears of Solomon, to both sides of the argument, weighed not on scales of sympathy, but reason.

The idea isn’t to mete out life-altering decisions, but to observe how, in the grey area between law and humanity, a single human being is entrusted to find clarity. That is no ordinary privilege; it is a humbling, almost spiritual duty.

Would I be nervous? Of course. The hammer of justice is not a toy to be played with. It requires the courage of Arjuna, the wisdom of Athena, and the restraint of King Harishchandra. Even for a day, to be the person who helps restore faith in fairness would be a lesson in humility and introspection.

It would also be an experience to step away from the noise of daily biases and prejudices—to view people not by their name, wealth, or background, but by their actions, their words, and the spirit of the law that binds all.

And once that one day is over, I’d remove the robe—not with relief, but reverence. Perhaps I’d carry forward some of its values into everyday life: listening more patiently, judging less hastily, and upholding fairness not just in courtrooms but in conversations.

As the old adage goes, “To understand someone, walk a mile in their shoes.” For me, it would be a mile in the robe and gavel of justice—a day etched not in power, but in purpose.

More Than a Logo: Why Brands Matter in a Noisy World”

“More Than a Logo: Why Brands Matter in a Noisy World”

In today’s bustling marketplace, where choices multiply like rabbits in spring, and consumer attention spans shrink faster than a puddle in the sun, one question quietly looms large—what makes us choose one product over another? The answer, more often than not, lies in one simple, potent word: brand.

Branding is not just the art of putting a name or a symbol on a product. It is the soul of a business, the silent ambassador of trust, and the promise whispered between seller and buyer. Whether we realise it or not, we interact with dozens of brands every day, and over time, they begin to define not just our choices, but our identities.

A Brand is a Story—Well Told

At its heart, a brand tells a story. It conveys heritage, values, and aspirations. The most enduring brands—be it in clothing, food, technology, or education—don’t merely sell products. They sell meaning. They offer a narrative that resonates with our desires and reassures our doubts.

Imagine standing in front of a shelf filled with nameless packets of tea. Would you pick one with confidence? Unlikely. But when you see a familiar name, one that has delivered comfort in the past, your hand moves without hesitation. That is branding at work—a subtle, silent pull.

Trust Woven Through Time

In a world teeming with fleeting trends and overnight sensations, brands provide consistency and credibility. We trust them to deliver quality, to keep their word, to evolve with time without losing their essence. This trust is not built overnight. It is carved slowly, over years of consistent service, ethical practice, and meaningful engagement.

A strong brand becomes a shorthand for quality. It saves us from decision fatigue. It allows us to make informed choices without constant scrutiny. When the world feels uncertain, brands become islands of assurance.

More Than a Purchase: A Relationship

Brand loyalty often mirrors a relationship. There’s a phase of discovery, followed by satisfaction, and then commitment. Great brands know how to nurture this relationship—not just through glossy advertising, but through listening, adapting, and standing by their customers.

This is why branding goes beyond the marketplace. It builds communities, fuels movements, and at times, shapes culture. Think of how certain brands become verbs, habits, or even ways of life. That is influence, rooted in identity.

For Organisations, It’s Make or Break

From a business perspective, branding isn’t a luxury—it’s a strategic imperative. A strong brand:

– Commands attention and respect

– Attracts talent and partnerships

– Justifies premium pricing

– Withstands market shocks

– Drives long-term growth

Moreover, in sectors like education, healthcare, and consultancy, where trust and integrity are paramount, a well-nurtured brand becomes an ethical compass—a reputation that precedes you.

Branding the Right Way

Effective branding requires clarity of purpose, consistency of message, and authenticity of voice. It must be felt in every touchpoint—from packaging and advertisements to customer service and after-sales care. A brand is only as strong as its weakest link.

In today’s digital age, where social media can amplify or dismantle reputations overnight, authenticity and transparency are no longer optional—they are essential. One bad review, one tone-deaf post, and years of goodwill can unravel.

The Echo That Lasts

Branding is not just about being seen. It is about being remembered, respected, and recalled with warmth. In the clutter of competition and the cacophony of advertising, a well-crafted brand stands like a lighthouse—offering direction, reliability, and a little glow of familiarity.

After all, people don’t fall in love with products. They fall in love with the stories behind them, the trust they evoke, and the values they carry. And those, dear reader, are the very bricks with which great brands are built.

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.