Mr Prashant is a seasoned educator and author with years of experience in school administration and classroom teaching. Having served as a Principal, he brings a wealth of knowledge on effective teaching practices and classroom management. He is also the author of several books, including "Image of my Experiences - a book of poetry," "Speeches from the Desk of the Principal," and "The Legend of Inara Wali." Now retired and residing in Bangalore, he
continues blogging etc
Cooking, to me, has never been a mere act of filling the stomach — it is the art of weaving stories in aroma and rhythm. My kitchen often becomes a sacred space where cultures meet, spices speak, and memories simmer. If one were to ask what my speciality is, I would smile and say, “Fish curry and potato — in every form known to mankind!”
Born in the heart of the Indian subcontinent, my taste buds were baptised early in the cult of spices. The fiery red of chillies, the golden glow of turmeric, the earthy scent of cumin, and the whisper of mustard seeds crackling in hot oil — these were my lullabies. The kitchen was a theatre, where every spice had its cue and every aroma a dialogue. From the humble jeera to the exotic garam masala, I learnt that balance, like in life, is the secret to perfection.
The Soul of My Cooking
Fish curry has always been my comfort food — a dish that mirrors both simplicity and sophistication. Whether it’s the Odia coastal touch with mustard paste and green chillies, or the Bengali-inspired tang of tamarind and tomato, my version carries the essence of home and heritage. The fish swims not only in the gravy but also in nostalgia — reminding me of riverside markets, brass utensils, and the smoky scent of wood fire.
The accompaniments — crispy potato fries and soft, buttery mashed potatoes — form the chorus of this culinary symphony. The golden fries sing of joy and childhood, while the mashed potato hums a lullaby of English elegance. Add to that a mound of steaming, pearly rice — and the meal becomes complete, wholesome, and meditative.
A Global Palette
Over time, my culinary curiosity has travelled far beyond the frontiers of my native kitchen. The sizzle of Chinese stir-fries, the tang of Italian pastas bathed in olive oil and basil, the zest of Mexican enchiladas — they all found a place in my kitchen diary. I admire the English roast with its measured poise and the buttery scones that melt with grace — simple, honest, yet regal.
Food, I have realised, is not just about taste. It is a dialogue between the soil and the soul, a reflection of human survival and social connection. Each region, with its own ingredients and climates, whispers stories of people — their joys, hardships, and celebrations. To eat is to belong; to cook is to create that belonging for others.
A Cult of Togetherness
In Indian homes, food is never eaten alone. The clatter of utensils, the chatter of family, the fragrance that escapes into the courtyard — all form an inseparable cult of togetherness. Sharing food is sharing affection, and inviting someone to your table is a gesture of deep trust.
For me, preparing a meal is an expression of gratitude — to nature for her bounty, to ancestors for their recipes, and to loved ones for their laughter that fills the dining space.
In simmering pots, my dreams arise, Of rivers, rains, and sunset skies. A pinch of salt, a drop of care, Transforms the world beyond compare.
From mustard seeds to pepper’s flame, Each spice a tale, each taste a name. The curry hums, the rice does gleam, Food — my faith, my living dream.
So come, my friend, take up your seat, Let heart and hunger gently meet. For in each bite, you’ll surely find, The story of my soul — well-spiced, well-kind.
There are moments in life when pride does not roar — it whispers. It is not the medal that glitters, nor the applause that thunders, but the quiet heartbeat of purpose that reminds one of a journey well-lived. When I look back, the question — what am I most proud of in my life? — doesn’t summon the trophies on my shelf, but the invisible milestones engraved upon my soul.
The Silent Triumphs of the Soul
Pride, to me, is not an act of vanity but a recognition of survival — of the self that endured, evolved, and empathised. I am proud that I stood firm in the face of adversities that could have easily reduced me to dust. Life, with its unpredictable experiments, tested me like a curious scientist observing the reactions of the human spirit. Yet through each trial, I discovered resilience — that hidden chemical within, which reacts not with despair but with determination.
Every challenge became an alchemy of emotion — transforming pain into patience, loneliness into learning, and struggle into strength. I am proud that I never allowed bitterness to corrode the better part of me. Like a tree surviving storms, I chose to bend rather than break.
Human Behaviour and the Art of Becoming
Psychologically, pride is often linked to ego, but in its refined form, it becomes a mirror of growth. I take pride in the art of becoming — becoming a teacher, a father, a seeker, a philosopher in my own right. My career, spanning decades, was not merely about instruction; it was about illumination. I helped minds discover their own equations of excellence, not through fear, but through faith in their ability to shine.
The beauty of being human lies in this — our capacity to adapt, reflect, and reconstruct ourselves even when the world offers no applause. Survival is not merely physical endurance; it is emotional evolution. I am proud that I learnt this truth early — that the most meaningful victories happen within.
A Scientific Gaze upon the Human Journey
From a scientific perspective, life itself is a magnificent experiment of energy and consciousness. Atoms that once danced in stars now dwell in us — making each heartbeat a cosmic rhythm. I am proud that I have respected this marvel of existence — never treating life as trivial, but as an ongoing exploration of mind and matter.
The physicist in me finds wonder in the laws of nature; the philosopher in me finds meaning in their silence. When science meets spirituality, one realises that pride is not possession but participation — in the grand experiment of creation.
The Emotional Equation of Gratitude
I am proud not because I achieved, but because I appreciated. Gratitude became my emotional constant, balancing the variables of sorrow and success. I learnt that pride without humility is like light without warmth — it dazzles but doesn’t nurture. So, I carried my achievements not as ornaments but as offerings — to those who guided, loved, and believed in me.
The Eternal Echo of Contentment
Now, as I reflect, my pride lies in having lived meaningfully — in leaving behind ripples of thought, kindness, and learning. It lies in knowing that even when the applause fades, the echo of good deeds continues to sing.
In the storms I learnt to stand, yet bow, In defeat I found my strength somehow, In silence I heard the soul’s deep song, That whispered, “Endure, for you belong.”
No crown I wear, no throne I claim, Yet pride resides, without a name, For life itself — my truest art, Is painted on the canvas of heart.
Pride, then, is not what I have gained, but what I have retained — my faith, my humility, my capacity to love, and my courage to continue. These are the lighthouses within — guiding me through the fogs of time, illuminating not just what I have done, but what I have become.
The Evil Eye: Between Faith, Fear, and the Invisible Threads of Belief
In the vast and vivid cultural landscape of India—where faith flutters between logic and legend, and the seen blends with the unseen—the concept of nazar (evil eye) stands as one of the most fascinating intersections of belief, psychology, and social practice. From bustling bazaars to silent courtyards, from grand mansions to humble huts, the phrase “nazar lag gayi” (to be affected by the evil eye) still carries a deep resonance, blending fear and fascination, spirituality and superstition. It is both a reflection of human vulnerability and an expression of the unseen energies that shape our collective consciousness.
The Meaning and Mystique of Nazar Lagna (Being Affected by the Evil Eye)
The term “nazar lagna” (to be struck by the evil eye) is the belief that excessive admiration, jealousy, or even a lingering gaze can transmit harmful energy to the object of attention—be it a person, a child, an animal, a house, or even success itself. It signifies an imbalance in the cosmic harmony caused by the unseen power of human emotions.
In Sanskrit, this condition is referred to as Drishti Dosha (दृष्टिदोष)—drishti meaning sight or gaze, and dosha meaning defect or affliction. Ancient Indian scriptures recognise the spiritual potency of the human gaze. The Rig Veda (ऋग्वेद 10.137.7) mentions:
“यस्य चक्षुः न निमिषति तस्य दृष्टिः अमृतस्य भवति।” Yasya chakṣuh na nimiṣati tasya drishti amrutasya bhavati. He whose eyes do not waver, his vision becomes immortal.
This verse reveals the dual nature of vision—it can bless or blemish, heal or harm, depending on the intent of the beholder.
Another verse from traditional Tantra Shastra expresses the subtle danger of envy:
“असूया हि मनुष्याणां दोषः सर्वत्र वर्तते।” Asūyā hi manuṣyāṇāṃ doṣaḥ sarvatra vartate. Envy is the defect that dwells in all human hearts.
Thus, nazar lagna becomes not just a supernatural concept but also a moral reflection on the frailty of human emotion.
The Act of Nazar Lagana (Casting the Evil Eye)
Nazar lagana (to cast or inflict the evil eye) is often considered unintentional, arising from unguarded admiration or concealed envy. A passer-by who gazes too long at someone’s prosperity, a friend who lavishly praises another’s child, or even a stranger admiring a bride’s beauty—all may unwittingly project negative vibrations.
The saying “Buri nazar wale, tera muh kala” (O bearer of evil eyes, may your face be darkened) is not merely a curse but a cultural mechanism to resist harmful intentions. It encapsulates the moral message that one should celebrate others’ happiness without envy.
In ancient India, this idea was expressed in the following Sanskrit maxim:
“परद्रव्येषु लोभो हि दृष्टिदोषस्य कारणम्।” Paradravyeṣu lobho hi drishti doṣasya kāraṇam. Greed for what belongs to others is the cause of the evil gaze.
Thus, the act of nazar lagana represents the shadow of unbalanced desire—an occult interplay between emotion and energy.
Nazar Utarna (Removing or Reversing the Evil Eye)
If nazar lagna (being affected by the evil eye) is the illness, nazar utarna (removal or reversal of the evil eye) is the cure—a symbolic act to cleanse and restore spiritual equilibrium.
Common household practices include rotating red chillies, mustard seeds, or salt around the affected person’s head and then discarding or burning them. Hanging lemon-and-chilli garlands at entrances, tying black threads on wrists or ankles, or applying a small dot (kajal ki bindi) behind a child’s ear are believed to deflect negative forces.
These rituals represent the ancient Indian understanding of energy transfer: if the harm comes through sight, it can be nullified through symbolic acts of fire, motion, and mantra. A sacred invocation used during nazar utarna rituals is:
“ॐ नमो भद्राय महादृष्टये स्वाहा।” Om namo bhadrāya mahādrishṭaye svāhā. Salutations to the benevolent vision that destroys the malignant gaze.
Another powerful chant from the Atharva Veda (4.4.5) offers protection:
“दृष्टिं मे पापिनीं हन्तु, दृष्टं पापं निवर्तय।” Drishtiṃ me pāpinīṃ hantu, drishtaṃ pāpaṃ nivartaya. May the sinful gaze be destroyed, may its evil return to naught.
By uttering such verses, one invokes not just divine protection but also a psychological assurance—a cleansing of the mind from fear and uncertainty.
The Occult and Psychological Undercurrents
The idea of nazar treads the fine line between cult and culture, between occult practices and psychological necessity. Amulets, charms, black threads, and even blue glass beads are thought to absorb negative vibrations. But beyond the ritual lies a profound truth about human psychology.
The fear of nazar stems from the fear of exposure—the anxiety of being too happy, too fortunate, or too visible in a world where envy lurks in silent hearts. These practices offer comfort through symbolic control—a way to externalise inner fears into tangible acts, giving the believer both solace and strength.
Modern psychology recognises this phenomenon as a form of external locus of control, where individuals perceive their wellbeing as influenced by external forces. In uncertain times, belief in nazar utarna offers emotional balance, serving as both protection and placebo.
A Social and Cultural Mirror
Every civilization has acknowledged the gaze of envy. The Greeks called it Baskania, the Arabs Ayin al-Hasad, the Italians Malocchio, and the Turks Nazar Boncugu. Yet, in India, the nazar transcends religion and geography.
Hindus perform aarti with salt and chillies, Muslims recite dua for protection, and Christians bless their homes with holy water. The practice unites people across faiths in the shared recognition of invisible energies that shape human destiny.
It is not merely superstition but a spiritual metaphor for human vulnerability, reminding us that envy can corrode not only the envied but the envious themselves.
When praise turns heavy with unseen sighs, And smiles conceal the shadowed eyes, We seek a thread, a stone, a prayer, To guard our joy from envy’s glare.
For sight can wound, though soft its hue, A spark of envy pierces through; So chant we softly—“Om Shanti, Om,” Let peace, not malice, fill our home.
Let every gaze be pure, benign, Let hearts with others’ joy align; Let blessings flow where curses die, And faith outshines the darkest eye.
“शान्तिः दृश्येषु सर्वत्र, दृष्टिदोषो न जायते। शुभदृष्टिः भवेत् सर्वे, मङ्गलं च सदा वसेत्॥” Śāntiḥ drishyeṣu sarvatra, drishti doṣo na jāyate; Shubha drishtiḥ bhavet sarve, maṅgalaṃ cha sadā vaset.
Let peace dwell in every sight, may the evil gaze never arise; May every vision be auspicious, and may goodness forever reside.
When someone asks, “What have you been working on?” the question may seem casual, yet it holds layers of depth that few pause to explore. It is not merely about occupation or activity — it is about evolution, endurance, and the invisible transformations that shape who we are becoming.
I have been working — not only with my hands or my head, but with my heart. I have been mending what life has broken, polishing the dull corners of patience, and watering the roots of resilience. In a world where visible productivity earns applause, I find myself cherishing the quiet progress that cannot be displayed — the kind that refines the soul and renews the spirit.
Human behaviour is a fascinating study in itself. We work incessantly, often without knowing whether our efforts will bear fruit. Psychologically, this yearning to contribute, to matter, is what keeps us alive. We measure time not in hours, but in hopes — in the soft pursuit of meaning. Survival, then, becomes not just about existence, but persistence — the will to work upon ourselves, even when the world isn’t watching.
The work of life is rarely loud. It hides in the unseen acts of love, patience, and endurance. A mother’s sleepless nights shaping a child’s tomorrow, a teacher refining lessons for minds that may or may not remember, an artist painting dreams that may never sell — all are workers in the vineyard of hope. Each one is silently crafting beauty out of belief.
Philosophically, work is the poetry of persistence. It is not merely what we do, but what we become in the process. The carpenter becomes patient through chiselling wood; the writer becomes wise through rewriting pain; the human becomes divine through learning compassion. Thus, work transcends profession — it becomes pilgrimage.
So when I am asked, “What have you been working on?” I no longer list tasks or achievements. I smile gently and say — I have been working on myself. On forgiveness and faith, on calm and clarity, on the courage to begin again. For the finest masterpieces are never painted on canvas — they are carved quietly within the human heart.
I have been working on silence, not noise, On the courage to lose and still rejoice. On threads of peace that time may spin, To stitch the rifts that live within.
I have been working on light, not gold, On truths that shimmer when stories are told. On turning trials to lessons learned, And ashes of grief to grace returned.
I have been working on love, not fame, On life’s pure art — this endless game. For every scar, each tear, each fall, Has built the soul that conquers all.
Book Review: The Mechanics of Motion – Force, Friction, and Energy Explored by Prashant Kumar Lal
In The Mechanics of Motion, author Prashant Kumar Lal takes readers on an enlightening journey through the foundational principles of Physics — force, friction, and energy — weaving together scientific understanding with lucid explanations and real-life examples. The book stands as a testament to Lal’s lifelong engagement with education, science, and intellectual exploration.
About the Author
Prashant Kumar Lal, a seasoned educationist with over three decades of experience as a Principal and consultant, brings a rare combination of academic rigour and storytelling flair to this work. Having taught, trained, and inspired countless students and teachers across India, Lal’s passion for Physics and his deep-rooted belief in making science accessible shine through in every chapter. His earlier books — spanning poetry, school leadership, and academic excellence — reflect his multifaceted personality and his ability to connect logic with life.
About the Book
The Mechanics of Motion is not just a textbook or a scientific guide — it’s an exploration of the unseen forces that govern our world. The author skillfully dissects complex physical concepts into engaging narratives, enabling readers to see how principles of motion influence everything from the movement of celestial bodies to the smallest mechanical interactions of daily life. The book is organised thoughtfully, ensuring that readers gradually build their understanding from basic laws to advanced applications, all while staying grounded in clarity and relevance. The use of examples, conceptual illustrations, and contextual reasoning makes this book a valuable companion for students, teachers, and enthusiasts alike.
Target Readers
This book is particularly beneficial for:
– Students of Physics at the high school and undergraduate levels who seek conceptual clarity.
– Educators and science enthusiasts looking for refreshing ways to teach and appreciate Physics.
– Curious readers who wish to explore the mechanics behind motion without getting lost in mathematical jargon.
Lal’s ability to bridge the gap between theory and reality ensures that even readers from non-science backgrounds find the book intellectually stimulating and emotionally fulfilling.
USP of the Book
The unique selling proposition (USP) of The Mechanics of Motion lies in its fusion of science, philosophy, and pedagogy. Lal not only explains the “how” of motion but also delves into the “why,” making the learning experience both rational and reflective. His teaching experience gives the book a conversational tone, guiding readers gently rather than overwhelming them with formulae and abstraction. Furthermore, the inclusion of illustrative analogies, real-world relevance, and a crisp writing style distinguishes this book from conventional Physics texts. It’s as much a scientific discourse as it is a meditation on the dynamic nature of existence.
Availability
The Mechanics of Motion – Force, Friction, and Energy Explored is available in both print and digital formats on http://www.amazon.com, making it easily accessible for global readers.
In essence, this book is an inspiring contribution from an educator who has spent his life nurturing scientific curiosity and human wisdom. It’s a must-read for anyone who believes that learning Physics is not merely about understanding motion — but about embracing the wonder of movement that defines life itself.
The Untold Echoes Within: What Most People Don’t Know About Me
There are layers to every human being—some revealed in conversation, some hidden in silence, and others buried deep beneath the quiet corners of the soul. What most people don’t know about me is not a secret wrapped in mystery, but a story softly humming in the background of my being—a melody that few have paused long enough to hear.
Behind the façade of calm composure lies a heart that wrestles with contradictions. I appear confident, yet within me often resides a gentle uncertainty that questions, reflects, and dreams in solitude. I am not as unbreakable as I sometimes seem, nor as tranquil as I appear. My strength, in truth, was born out of countless nights of doubt, the kind that whispers to you about your worth and purpose when the world sleeps. It’s a strength polished by endurance, not applause.
Most people know my words, my actions, my mannerisms—but not the silent dialogues I hold with myself. The small wars I’ve fought against fears that never made it to daylight. The soft prayers uttered for others who will never know I cared. Beneath the smile is a man who has faced rejection, yet chooses compassion; who has seen life’s harsh winters, yet still nurtures spring within his heart.
Philosophically speaking, we all live two lives: the one we show the world, and the one that blooms unseen in the mind’s garden. It is in the latter that our true self dwells—the self unchained by roles, expectations, or performance. Human behaviour often compels us to wear masks for acceptance, but survival—true survival—lies in embracing our hidden truths. To live authentically is to dare to reveal the soft underside of the armour, to let the world glimpse the scars and call them beautiful.
From a psychological lens, the unseen parts of us form the foundation of our resilience. The suppressed emotions, the unspoken grief, the silent endurance—they shape our inner architecture. Those who seem the calmest often hold the heaviest storms inside. Yet this quiet endurance becomes a source of empathy, teaching us to look at others not through judgement, but understanding.
In my own quiet world, music, faith, and memory become bridges that connect my inner solitude to the outer noise. They remind me that it is perfectly human to be complex—to be soft and strong, to be wounded and wise, to be a seeker in an age of superficial certainty. What most people don’t know about me is that I find meaning in the unnoticed—like a leaf trembling in the wind, or a child’s innocent question that stirs old memories.
Life, after all, is not about what we show, but what we silently overcome.
In the stillness of my thought I dwell, Where echoes of old dreams softly swell, The world sees my calm, my steady grace, But not the storms I gently face.
Behind each smile, a silent prayer, Behind each word, a hidden care, If hearts could speak without disguise, You’d see the truth behind my eyes.
So judge me not by what you see, For I am oceans—calm and free, And though my depths are seldom known, They are the seeds from which I’ve grown.
“The Stillness Within the Storm: When Lazy Days Whisper Wisdom”
In the symphony of our modern existence—where every moment hums with notifications, deadlines, and the constant chase for accomplishment—there arrive those rare, languid days that drift like soft clouds across an otherwise stormy sky. The so-called lazy days. To some, they are blessings in disguise, allowing the soul to breathe; to others, they are silent thieves, robbing one of momentum and purpose. The question, then, stands like a mirror before our restless minds—do lazy days make us feel rested or unproductive?
Philosophically speaking, stillness is not absence—it is presence. The great Stoics, fromMarcus Aurelius to Seneca, taught the virtue of reflection amidst the chaos of life. A lazy day, therefore, is not an indulgence in idleness but a retreat into self-awareness. When the body rests, the mind begins its subtle restoration—like the calm sea that gathers its strength for the next wave. Yet, the paradox remains: while the body basks in stillness, the mind, conditioned by years of societal conditioning, whispers guilt. We are trained to equate action with worth, busyness with success, and rest with weakness.
Contemporary life amplifies this internal battle. In the digital age, even the rest is curated. A weekend away must be Instagram-worthy; an afternoon nap must be justified with wellness jargon. The world rarely applauds serenity unless it is packaged as “self-care.” And yet, beneath this façade of productivity, the human spirit craves idleness—the kind of gentle pause where one stares out of a window, follows the dance of a leaf, or simply lets thought meander without direction.
From a psychological standpoint, lazy days are the mind’s natural mechanism for balance. Our brains, much like our muscles, require intervals of inactivity to process, heal, and create. Neuroscientists often note that creativity thrives in moments of rest—the so-called “incubation period” when the subconscious takes over. Great ideas are born not in boardrooms but in bathtubs, beds, and beneath banyan trees of thought. Survival, too, is not merely about action but about adaptation—and rest is nature’s way of ensuring endurance.
Yet, the emotional struggle remains palpable. On a lazy day, when the hands of the clock seem to mock our inertia, one may feel the tug of self-reproach—“I should be doing something.” But perhaps, doing nothing is the most profound act of being. The ancient Indian sages referred to it as Nishkama Karma—action without attachment, and at times, even inaction that carries divine meaning.
In truth, lazy days are mirrors reflecting the state of our inner being. When we are at peace, they appear as tranquil sanctuaries; when restless, they transform into prisons of guilt. Learning to embrace them without judgment is the beginning of self-compassion. For it is only in such moments of surrender that we truly rediscover ourselves—unhurried, unfiltered, and unmasked.
When clocks grow tired of ticking time, And dreams drift softly out of rhyme, Let silence play its gentle part— A balm upon the weary heart.
When work and worry fade away, And dusk turns gold to silver-grey, The soul rediscovers what’s been lost— Peace, unpriced, and worth the cost.
So, if a lazy day comes by, Don’t curse the calm or question why— For in that hush, the heart may find, The sweetest rest for soul and mind.
