Nikola Tesla: The Forgotten Conductor of Light and Thunder

Nikola Tesla: The Forgotten Conductor of Light and Thunder

There are lives that read like poetry written in sparks of fire and currents of lightning. Nikola Tesla’s story is one such tale—a saga of brilliance, solitude, and the unrelenting pursuit of a future his contemporaries could scarcely imagine. He was a man whose very soul was tuned to the hum of the universe, hearing music in the crackle of electricity and visions in the dance of energy unseen.

A Life of Unwavering Vision

Born in 1856 in Smiljan, within the Austrian Empire (modern-day Croatia), Tesla was a child marked by imagination and intensity. His mind strayed beyond the limits of what was, daring to glimpse what could be. As a student of engineering and physics, he quickly surpassed the confines of his education, for textbooks could not bind his vision. His obsession was clear: to harness energy in ways that would liberate humankind from toil and darkness.

Scientific Journey and Triumphs

Tesla’s greatest contributions to physics and technology are woven deeply into the fabric of modern civilisation. His development of alternating current (AC) power transformed the very arteries of society. Unlike the fragile reach of direct current, AC could travel vast distances, carrying light to cities and villages alike. The world was forever changed.

He dreamt of a wireless future—power transmitted through the air, communication leaping across oceans without wires, and energy flowing freely to all corners of the earth. His experiments with resonant circuits, wireless transmission, and high-frequency waves became the very foundation of radio and modern wireless communication. His work with magnetic fields, induction motors, X-rays, and the early conception of radar placed him years—sometimes decades—ahead of his peers.

Tesla was not merely a scientist; he was a seer of physics, bending Maxwell’s equations into living inventions, hearing in mathematics the rhythm of nature itself.

Hurdles and Tragedies

Yet, genius often walks hand in hand with isolation. Tesla’s journey was fraught with betrayals, rivalries, and financial ruin. The infamous “War of Currents” against Thomas Edison was more than a technical contest—it was a clash of egos, economics, and power. While Tesla’s alternating current triumphed, he himself remained in the shadows of commercial success.

Time and again, he was exploited. Investors abandoned him, patents slipped from his grasp, and dreams of a global wireless energy system crumbled. In his later years, the world dismissed him as eccentric, a forgotten prophet feeding pigeons in a New York park. His final days were lived in obscurity, his brilliance dimmed by poverty, though his mind never ceased its dance with ideas.

A Legacy that Outlived Tragedy

Tesla’s story is a paradox of tragedy and triumph. Though denied wealth and recognition in life, his legacy shines brighter than ever today. He foresaw renewable energy, wireless technology, robotics, and the power of clean, boundless energy long before the world was ready to listen. Physics remembers him not only as an inventor but as a dreamer who bridged the gap between imagination and reality.

He reminds us that knowledge is not always rewarded in the present, but it carves an eternal path for future generations.

Beneath the storm’s electric glow,
A lonely figure walked below,
He whispered truths the world ignored,
And lit the skies with thought’s reward.

The wires sang, the towers dreamed,
Through every spark his vision gleamed,
Though silence cloaked his final years,
His thunder echoes through our spheres.

The man who courted light and flame,
Left us a world that speaks his name;
For Tesla’s soul, though lost to sight,
Still hums within the veins of night.

The Jewel Within: Cherishing the Trait I Value Most

The Jewel Within: Cherishing the Trait I Value Most

In the vast theatre of life, where personalities collide and ideologies contend, one often pauses to ask a simple yet profound question: What is the trait I value most about myself? To me, the answer is resilience—that quiet fire which keeps burning even when storms rage and when the world appears to be dimmed by shadows.

Resilience is not merely about surviving hardships; it is about transmuting them into stepping-stones. It is the alchemy of turning grief into wisdom, failure into strength, and loneliness into reflection. Like a river cutting through stone, resilience does not boast of its power, yet it reshapes landscapes.

Philosophically, the ancient Stoics considered endurance the cornerstone of human dignity. Socrates embraced death with unshaken calm, and Gandhi transformed political oppression into a movement of moral resilience. In a socio-political climate where voices are stifled and inequalities abound, resilience becomes more than a personal virtue; it is a form of silent resistance, a declaration that the human spirit will not be crushed by systems, nor by the weight of economic injustice.

Economically too, resilience plays its part. In societies where financial instability haunts countless families, the ability to rise again after loss or scarcity becomes essential. Resilience teaches us to find dignity in modest means, to stand tall when consumerism seduces us into thinking that worth is measured only in possessions. It speaks of survival, but also of self-respect—a currency no market can devalue.

On a personal scale, I treasure resilience because it has allowed me to navigate seasons of uncertainty without losing faith in the dawn. It has gifted me patience when opportunities were delayed, hope when companionship faltered, and courage when expectations outweighed recognition. It is this inner jewel that tells me: the journey matters more than applause, the effort more than the outcome.

Yet, resilience is not a solitary companion. It thrives in the symphony of other virtues—empathy, honesty, humility—that give it shape and music. For what is resilience if not softened by compassion, or guided by conscience? It is not merely the art of withstanding life; it is the art of living it fully, tenderly, and fearlessly.

Beneath the weight of worldly schemes,
Resilience guards my fragile dreams;
Through storms of doubt, through nights so long,
It moulds my soul to rise up strong.

And so, I guard this trait as a sacred inheritance. It is my answer to chaos, my prayer in silence, my bridge between despair and hope.

No crown of gold, no fleeting gain,
Could rival what this trait sustains;
For in my depths it softly sings—
A timeless gift, on steadfast wings.

If Money Were No Object: Callings of the Heart

If Money Were No Object: Callings of the Heart

There are moments in life when one wonders—what would I do if the chains of money, status, and expectation did not hold me? The world, as it is, is framed by economy and necessity; livelihoods are often measured by salaries, promotions, and survival. Yet, if we set aside these metrics and listen to the whisper of our inner calling, the answers can be profoundly revealing.

I imagine three pursuits, not as professions dictated by market forces, but as vocations of the soul.

1. A Teacher of Wanderers

Teaching, in its purest form, is the most sacred of callings. To ignite curiosity, nurture thought, and prepare young minds for a world not yet born—this is not employment but an act of devotion. Were money irrelevant, I would seek to teach not within the narrow confines of examination halls, but beneath the banyan trees, on mountain trails, and across rivers where life itself becomes the curriculum.

Philosophers such as Socrates taught without fees, offering dialogues instead of degrees. In today’s world, where education is often commodified, returning to such untainted pedagogy would be an act of quiet rebellion against a system that reduces learning to business. It would be to resist the commodification of curiosity and to affirm the dignity of knowledge as a human right.

2. A Poet of Everyday Life

Poetry, for me, is not mere ornamentation of words but a way of living truth. In a world swayed by political campaigns, corporate slogans, and the endless noise of consumerism, poetry offers resistance through simplicity and depth.

Were money irrelevant, I would write verses that draw from the soil of everyday life—the laughter of a child chasing a butterfly, the resilience of a labourer in the marketplace, the silent grief of a widow by the riverbank. Poetry has the power to confront injustice, to heal wounds, and to remind societies of their forgotten humanity. Pablo Neruda once declared that poetry is an “act of peace,” and perhaps, in a fractured political climate, it remains the balm that people desperately need.

3. A Caretaker of Forgotten Spaces

The modern world moves with ruthless haste, erecting skyscrapers where forests once stood, and forgetting heritage in the rush towards ‘development.’ If freed from the compulsion of income, I would dedicate myself to restoring what has been neglected—ruined temples, abandoned libraries, desolate gardens, and even fading traditions.

This role is not merely nostalgic. It carries socio-political meaning, for it challenges the narrative that progress lies only in newness. Reviving forgotten spaces and practices is to preserve collective memory, reminding us that societies without roots are societies without resilience. It is to resist the global tide of cultural homogenisation and affirm the dignity of local heritage.

A Reflection Beyond Wealth

To dream of these callings is to acknowledge a deeper truth—that vocation is not always synonymous with profession. Money, while essential, often narrows our imagination of work to survival alone. But human life, in its essence, seeks meaning. Whether as a teacher, poet, or caretaker, the real measure of labour lies not in coins but in contributions to humanity, culture, and the flourishing of future generations.

If wealth were but a fleeting breeze,
I’d sow my hours beneath the trees.
To teach, to write, to guard the past,
To give my breath to things that last.

For coins may rust, and empires fall,
But truth in verse will outlive all.
In service, song, and sacred land,
I’d shape my world with open hand.

Roots that Bloom: A Journey through Cultural Heritage

Roots that Bloom: A Journey through Cultural Heritage

Culture is not merely the ornament of a society; it is the pulse that sustains its spirit. To me, cultural heritage is not a static museum of rituals but a living river that carries wisdom, memories, and melodies from one generation to the next. It gives me both identity and humility, teaching me that I belong to a continuum where past, present, and future are intertwined like threads of a timeless tapestry.

I find pride in the plurality of my heritage. The ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus once observed, “No man ever steps in the same river twice,” for culture, like rivers, evolves yet retains its essence. From the songs sung at twilight to the stories whispered around village fires, my heritage is alive in rhythms and silences, myths and morals, faith and festivities.

What fascinates me most is its inclusiveness. The Upanishadic ideal of “Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam”—the world as one family—resonates deeply with me. But alongside it, I admire the African proverb that says, “Wisdom is like a baobab tree; no one individual can embrace it.” Both remind me that no culture stands alone; every heritage gains richness in dialogue with another.

There is pride in its resilience too. Despite wars, exiles, migrations, and modern distractions, cultural roots have survived, branching into music, art, literature, philosophy, and even the simplest forms of daily courtesies. From Confucian thought in the East stressing harmony, to the Celtic mystics of the West who saw divinity in forests and stones, culture has always been humanity’s compass to navigate meaning.

What captivates me most are the intangibles—the values that whisper through rituals. Respect for elders, compassion for the poor, reverence for nature, the celebration of harvests, the shared laughter in festivals—all of these are fragments of eternity placed in ordinary time. My cultural heritage is not merely about what I inherit; it is about what I choose to nurture, reinterpret, and pass on.

As Rabindranath Tagore once wrote, “Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.” Heritage is that bird—it carries songs of resilience even when storms rage. To be proud of one’s cultural heritage is not to claim superiority but to hold a lamp that lights both our own path and that of others.

Beneath the soil, my roots run deep,
Through time’s vast corridors they creep;
From chants of dawn to evening’s song,
They teach me where I still belong.

Heritage whispers, tender, profound,
In every silence its echoes are found;
Not chains of the past, but wings to rise,
A bridge from earth to eternal skies.

Brands that Breathe Beyond Logos

Brands that Breathe Beyond Logos

There is a strange alchemy in the way we humans attach ourselves to brands. They are not merely names on billboards or imprints on glossy shopping bags; they are stories stitched into fabric, philosophies whispered through design, and promises carried in quiet subtleties. A brand, at its purest, is not just about consumption—it is about identity, belonging, and resonance.

When I reflect upon the brands I truly associate with, I find myself not dazzled by flamboyant advertisements but drawn by authenticity. It is not the price tag that captivates me, but the values that flow beneath the surface. A fountain pen that glides like a river across paper becomes more than a tool—it becomes a companion in moments of solitude. A car that hums steadily through the countryside is not only a machine; it is a bridge between dreams and destinations.

Philosophers have long debated the nature of symbols. Plato spoke of ideals beyond appearances, and in a way, brands too can be shadows of deeper ideals. A pair of shoes may symbolise resilience, carrying the weight of countless journeys. A watch may embody the philosophy of time itself, ticking gently as a reminder of life’s fleeting beauty. These objects, adorned with logos, become almost talismanic—they carry the essence of who we are and what we aspire to be.

Yet, there lies a subtle caution. When brands overshadow our essence, when we allow them to dictate rather than reflect, we risk losing our freedom. The Bhagavad Gita warns against bondage through desire, and consumerism can easily weave its silken threads around us. True association with a brand, then, must be conscious—chosen for meaning, not dictated by marketing.

I find myself leaning towards brands that whisper rather than shout, those that embody sustainability, artistry, or endurance. They are like trusted friends who do not boast, but quietly stand by you. In their design, I see poetry; in their endurance, I sense philosophy.

And so, brands for me are not possessions but extensions—gentle echoes of my inner world, testaments to journeys taken and dreams still unfolding.

A name embossed, a logo etched,
Yet deeper still, a tale is sketched.
Not wealth nor glitter calls my hand,
But spirit woven through the brand.

For brands are more than fleeting flame,
They guard a soul, they frame a name.
And when they breathe with truth inside,
They walk with me, as silent guide.

The More Within the Less

“The More Within the Less”

There are questions that arrive like soft ripples upon a still pond, gentle yet unsettling, delicate yet demanding. What could you do more of? At first glance, it may appear like a taskmaster’s query, but when one pauses long enough, it becomes less about accumulation and more about awakening. It whispers not of possessions but of presence, not of achievements but of alignments with our truest self.

Too often, the word more is chained to a culture of endless striving. More money, more recognition, more control. Yet psychologists remind us that after a point, these pursuits leave us hollow, burdened with anxieties rather than blessings. What we truly crave is not more to own but more to live fully.

Imagine if we did more of listening, not just hearing words but absorbing the silences in between. If we did more of noticing—the play of shadows at dusk, the laughter of a child, the resilience of a tree bending in the storm. These seemingly small “mores” become quiet revolutions, transforming how the heart feels and how the mind breathes.

Philosophy, too, leans toward this truth. Kierkegaard, in his soulful reflections, spoke of deepening one’s inwardness—living more authentically rather than scattering the self in distractions. Simone Weil, the French mystic, saw attention itself as a form of prayer: to give more attention to the world is to touch the sacred. And Rumi sang of the heart’s capacity to pour more love, reminding us that generosity of spirit multiplies rather than diminishes.

Doing more of what nourishes does not demand grandeur. It is not measured in leaps but in layers. More compassion softens the rough terrains of human existence. More patience in conversation can restore bonds frayed by haste. More wonder at the night sky can calm a weary mind battered by daily anxieties. Even more solitude, when embraced, does not isolate but deepens the soul’s roots.

The psychology of fulfilment is clear: lasting joy emerges when our actions align with values, when our “mores” are chosen not out of compulsion but from clarity. A little more kindness shared each day rewires the brain towards empathy. A little more gratitude lightens the heart’s heaviness. A little more forgiveness releases the invisible chains we bind ourselves with. These are not small gestures but inner renovations.

What could you do more of? Perhaps more stillness in a world addicted to noise. More hope when despair threatens to take centre stage. More courage to say yes to life, even when uncertainties loom. And perhaps, more tenderness towards oneself—for often we forget that the gentleness we lavish on others must also be gifted inward.

The soul does not ask us to become larger, but deeper. It does not demand that we run faster, but that we pause longer. To do more of what heals, what connects, what elevates—that is the “more” which truly matters.

Do more of holding the fleeting light,
Of guarding dreams in the folds of night.
Do more of smiling when skies turn grey,
For dawn is never too far away.

Do more of loving with hands unclosed,
Of tending the fragile, the faint, the supposed.
Do more of being where hearts entwine,
And you will taste the eternal divine.

The Murmur That Changed My Path

The Murmur That Changed My Path

Advice often enters our lives not as thunder, but as a quiet murmur that refuses to fade. The most transformative counsel I ever received was simple in its form yet profound in its implications: “Learn to listen to silence.” At first, it baffled me, for silence is often seen as a void, a vacuum, even an awkward pause. But gradually, I realised that silence is not the absence of sound—it is the presence of depth. It is the space where life speaks in subtle tones.

The Psychology of Silence

Modern psychology acknowledges what ancient wisdom has long whispered—that silence heals. Clinical studies show that silence lowers cortisol levels, slows the racing mind, and helps the nervous system reset. When we allow ourselves to step back from the incessant hum of conversations, devices, and distractions, the brain re-engages with creativity and balance.

Silence, in this sense, is not passive. It is an active restoration. It is the mental equivalent of deep sleep—a state where unseen repair takes place. Carl Jung once hinted that “the soul needs time alone to uncover itself.” Indeed, in silence, the unconscious rises like a hidden tide, carrying dreams, intuitions, and insights we would otherwise drown out with noise.

Philosophical Reflections Beyond the Familiar

While great names like Socrates or Confucius often dominate discussions, other less-cited thinkers offer delicate threads of wisdom on silence:

1. Max Picard, the Swiss philosopher, emphasised that silence is not emptiness but a presence more eloquent than words.

2. Meister Eckhart, the German mystic, urged seekers to quiet their inner turbulence, for only then could truth arrive unannounced.

3. Kamo no Chōmei, in his hermit’s hut in 12th-century Japan, wrote in Hōjōki that stepping away from the clamour of society into a small, silent space opened the way to serenity and impermanence.

4. Plotinus, though seldom quoted in modern contexts, insisted that turning inward into silence was the only way to touch the “One”—the source of all existence.

These diverse voices, spanning centuries and continents, converge on one truth: silence is not absence, but presence, not weakness but strength.

The Practical Wisdom Hidden in Quietude

Silence teaches us patience in a world addicted to instant gratification. It grants us the courage to pause before reacting. In relationships, listening to silence allows us to hear not just what is spoken, but also what is withheld. Psychologists remind us that unspoken emotions often surface in body language, in the eyes, in pauses heavier than sentences.

Silence is also the soil where creativity flourishes. Writers, musicians, artists—many confess that their greatest inspirations did not arrive in noisy cafés or bustling streets but in still moments, often when they were alone with themselves. In silence, imagination gathers strength.

Even spiritually, silence has been the door through which seekers step into transcendence. From the deserts of early Christian hermits to the forests of Indian sages, silence has always been the chosen path. The Upanishads describe the ultimate reality, Brahman, as that which lies “where words turn back, together with the mind.”

Personal Resonances

I have found that silence is not merely the absence of talk but a way of listening—to the world, to others, and to myself. It has guided me in moments of decision, reminding me that rushing often leads to regret. It has soothed me in grief, when words felt inadequate. It has made joy fuller, when shared laughter was followed by a contented pause.

And most importantly, silence has taught me humility—the awareness that not everything demands my voice, my opinion, or my explanation. Sometimes, wisdom lies in restraint.

In silence dwells the tender flame,
That burns beyond all praise or blame.
It heals the scars that time has sown,
And carves a peace the heart has known.

The stillness hums, a sacred tone,
A music felt, though never shown.
For when the clamour fades away,
The soul finds words it dares not say.

So let the murmur guide the way,
Through night’s embrace and break of day.
For silence, vast and deep, conveys
The timeless truth no tongue betrays.