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

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

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

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

The Problem: When Screens Steal Time Silently

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

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

The Insight: Understanding the Digital Mirror

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

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

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

The Solution: My Formula for Digital Balance

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

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

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

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

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

The Reward: From Restless Tapping to Restful Thinking

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

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

Epilogue: The Screen and the Soul

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

So now, I remind myself each evening:

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

Borrowed Moments: Do You Need Time?”

“Borrowed Moments: Do You Need Time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Through the Mists of Tomorrow: A Glimpse into My Life Three Years Hence

Through the Mists of Tomorrow: A Glimpse into My Life Three Years Hence

Time, that elusive traveller, never waits for anyone. It tiptoes past our moments of glory and grief alike, leaving behind a trail of memories and dreams half-fulfilled. When I close my eyes and imagine my life three years from now, I see not a distant fantasy but a quietly ripened continuation of the journey I tread today — a life woven with meaning, simplicity, and inner calm.

In three years, I imagine waking up not to the clamour of alarms, but to the melody of birds perched on the window sill, singing hymns of dawn. The aroma of freshly brewed tea mingles with the scent of wet earth after a light drizzle. The world outside may still rush with deadlines and devices, yet within my modest space, serenity will reign. Perhaps I shall be writing by the window — words flowing like gentle rivers, touching unseen shores of hearts that read them.

I envision myself still teaching in subtle ways — maybe not in classrooms filled with chalk dust and chatter, but through conversations, mentoring, or reflective writings. For a teacher never truly retires; he merely changes the medium of his lessons. My consultancy work would have evolved, embracing the digital and philosophical worlds alike — a bridge between traditional wisdom and modern education.

Agnes, my ever-gentle companion in life and letters, will perhaps be working on her next book, while I assist in editing her drafts, debating words over cups of coffee, and rejoicing in the shared dance of thought. Agastya, our little star, will be old enough to question the world with curiosity — his eyes shimmering with that divine wonder only children possess. To answer his innocent questions may become my greatest occupation and my sweetest joy.

Three years hence, I hope to have travelled more — not just to places, but into minds, histories, and inner landscapes. Perhaps I will visit the mountains again, tracing the breath of eternity in the Himalayan silence. Or wander through the ruins of an ancient civilisation, feeling time’s eternal pulse.

Philosophically, I dream of reaching that tranquil bend of life where acceptance meets aspiration. The restless search for recognition will fade into gratitude for experience. I would wish to cultivate the art of mindful living — cherishing conversations, forgiving faster, and complaining less. My bookshelf will grow thicker, my worries thinner, and my heart lighter.

The world in three years may change beyond imagination — AI will reason, robots will empathise, and humanity will chase stars. Yet amidst all that progress, I wish to remain beautifully human — feeling, faltering, and forgiving — a humble traveller of time’s vast sea.

And if destiny allows, my pen will still dance across paper, guided not by ambition but by affection — writing stories of life, faith, and love that outlive their writer.

When years unfold their silver hue,
And dreams take shapes both old and new,
I’ll walk through dawns with heart serene,
Where joy is quiet, and thoughts are clean.

No crown to wear, no race to run,
Just peace beneath the setting sun.
For life’s true wealth, I’ve come to see,
Lies in calm hearts and memory.

Day of Quiet Wonders – A Holiday for the Soul

Day of Quiet Wonders – A Holiday for the Soul

In a world that hums endlessly with chatter, notifications, and noise, what we often lose sight of is silence—the tender space between two heartbeats where meaning truly resides. Imagine, then, a holiday that celebrates the forgotten art of stillness—a day not of parades or parties, but of pauses and presence. I call it The Day of Quiet Wonders.

The Birth of an Idea

This holiday would fall on the first full moon of March, marking the transition from winter’s withdrawal to spring’s renewal—a time when nature itself whispers instead of roars. It would remind us that before creation comes contemplation. It’s not a religious festival, nor a cultural ritual—it’s a universal one, crossing all boundaries of creed, geography, and generation.

The idea emerged from the observation that most holidays celebrate doing—but none celebrate being. We honour heroes, harvests, independence, and revolutions, but never the still, unspoken revolutions within—the quiet realisation that peace begins in the human heart.

How to Celebrate

On this day, everyone would disconnect from all digital devices for twelve hours—from sunrise to sunset. No phones, no social media, no email. Instead, the time would be spent in slow, mindful ways: walking amidst trees, listening to birdsong, writing letters by hand, cooking with family, reading poetry aloud, or simply sitting by a window watching clouds drift.

Cities could organise “Circles of Quiet”—public parks and courtyards where people gather in respectful silence, perhaps accompanied by soft music or meditation bells. Schools might hold storytelling sessions about how silence inspires creativity. Workplaces could dedicate the day to reflection and gratitude—acknowledging efforts rather than chasing targets.

In the evening, as the moon rises, households would light a single candle or lamp at their window, symbolising the inner flame of awareness that guides each life through the darkness of distraction.

Why Everyone Should Celebrate

The Day of Quiet Wonders isn’t merely a break—it’s a balm. Psychologically, silence reduces stress, deepens breathing, and increases empathy. Philosophically, it reawakens us to our essence. Spiritually, it is a communion with the cosmos—a reminder that we, too, are part of the grand, wordless rhythm of the universe.

In celebrating this holiday, humanity collectively reclaims what modern life has stolen: time to think, feel, and simply exist. It allows children to see that joy doesn’t need Wi-Fi, that wonder can live in a fallen leaf or the sound of rain on rooftops. It invites adults to rediscover calm—the strength that lies not in speaking louder, but in listening deeper.

A Whispered Benediction

If the world can devote a day to noise, it can surely spare one for silence. Imagine nations breathing together, not in fear or frenzy, but in stillness—a global heartbeat syncing for just one quiet day.

So when the first full moon of March glows above, step outside. Feel the hush wrap around you like an old friend. Let your thoughts slow, your spirit stretch, and your heart whisper its own hymn to the heavens.

“In silence, we meet ourselves again,
Beneath the clamour, a calm refrain.
The world still turns, the stars still gleam—
In quiet, we live the truest dream.”

Webs That Weave My World

Webs That Weave My World

In a world knitted by invisible threads of data and dreams, the internet has become not merely a tool but a living reflection of our collective consciousness. It mirrors our thoughts, hopes, follies, and fears — a digital cosmos where every click tells a story. My favourite websites are not just pages bookmarked on a browser, but portals into different dimensions of learning, reflection, and human connection.

Among these, the websites that offer knowledge — like Wikipedia, BBC, or National Geographic — stand as modern temples of wisdom. They remind me of ancient libraries, where seekers once travelled on foot to unearth truth. Here, knowledge isn’t whispered through papyrus but shared in pixels. Every article feels like a small pilgrimage — the mind bowing before the altar of information, humility, and wonder.

Then there are the platforms that foster human dialogue and empathy — spaces like Medium, where writers bare their souls through stories, or Quora, where strangers turn philosophers for a moment, answering questions that echo from the caverns of our curiosity. These remind me that though the world is fragmented by borders and beliefs, thought still flows freely — connecting minds across oceans and hearts across time zones.

Websites that celebrate art, music, and literature are my sanctuaries of solace. Browsing YouTube, for instance, is like entering an eternal concert hall where Mozart meets Mukesh, and Rumi’s verses breathe through visuals. It is a place where human emotions, once confined to parchment and canvas, now dance in light and sound — a modern rebirth of creativity and catharsis.

Philosophically, these digital dwellings reflect our psychological need for meaning, belonging, and validation. When we search, scroll, or share, we are not just seeking data; we are seeking ourselves. The internet has, in a way, become an external memory of humanity — a mirror that both humbles and haunts. Like the mythical Akashic Records, it holds every joy, tear, and thought of mankind, reminding us that survival today is as much about emotional connection as it is about information.

Yet, amid this ocean of algorithms, the mind must know when to anchor. Too much web-spinning, and we lose our sense of reality — trapped like moths circling the flame of distraction. The best websites, then, are those that nurture the mind without numbing it, enlighten the spirit without enslaving it.

Each visit to these virtual realms is a dialogue between man and machine, a whisper between the temporal and the eternal. They shape our moods, mould our perceptions, and silently sculpt the architecture of modern thought.

And when the day draws to its quiet close, I shut down the screen not with emptiness, but with gratitude — for having touched, even briefly, the infinite through the finite.

In webs of light my mind takes flight,
Through doors of dreams unseen,
Each pixel holds a truth so bright,
A spark of what has been.

The world may shrink to a glowing frame,
Yet hearts still find their tune,
In bytes and bits, in joy and flame,
We mirror sun and moon.

So let me surf, but not forget,
The waves of life outside —
For wisdom’s net is a better set,
Where truth and time collide.

The Age I’d Relive — A Symphony of Innocence and Becoming

The Age I’d Relive — A Symphony of Innocence and Becoming

There are moments in life that cling to us like the scent of first rain on parched soil — faint, fleeting, yet forever fresh in the heart. If given a chance to relive a year of my life, I would choose the age when dreams were still tender buds, when laughter came easily, and the world felt vast yet kind — my seventeenth year.

That was the year when life seemed both infinite and immediate, when each sunrise felt like a revelation and each twilight like a whisper from eternity. It was an age untainted by cynicism yet touched by curiosity; a time when failures were not defeats but lessons in disguise. The rhythm of existence had a melody — one that played through classrooms, friendships, silent prayers, and solitary walks under starlit skies.

Reliving that year would not merely be a return to youth — it would be a rediscovery of wonder. Psychologically, that age represents the most formative junction between innocence and self-awareness. The human mind begins to bridge imagination with reality, questioning authority yet craving belonging. One dreams of changing the world, even before understanding its labyrinths. It’s an age of idealism — sometimes naive, but profoundly human.

Survival, then, wasn’t about endurance. It was about hope — the belief that life held something extraordinary just around the corner. Even pain, in those days, had poetry in it. A heartbreak could inspire a song, a failure could ignite determination, and a simple compliment could turn a day into gold. The mind, unburdened by the weight of responsibilities, knew how to marvel at the moon and believe in miracles.

Philosophically speaking, the yearning to relive a certain year reveals an eternal truth about the human psyche — our deepest longing is not for time itself, but for the feeling of being fully alive. As we grow older, we learn more but feel less; we plan more but dream less. The clock may move forward, but the heart often walks backward to drink once more from the fountain of youth — not to escape ageing, but to reclaim the wholeness of being.

If I could truly relive that year, I wouldn’t change a single thing. I would let the rain soak me, the books consume me, and the music move me just as it did. I would still stumble, still learn, still love — but this time, with a little more gratitude, and a little less hurry.

And when that year ended again, I’d bow to it — knowing that even the fleeting moments we cannot keep are the ones that keep us alive.

If time could bend its silver thread,
I’d walk once more where youth had led.
Through fields of dreams, through songs unsung,
Where life was old, yet I was young.

No crown of years could weigh the grace,
Of that pure light, that fearless face.
Though seasons fade, their whispers stay,
In heart’s deep hall where memories play.

So let me live that year once more,
Not to rewrite, but to adore —
For in that age, I first could see,
The timeless soul that lives in me.

Echoes of Bharat: The Historical Moments that Shaped the Indian Soul

“Echoes of Bharat: The Historical Moments that Shaped the Indian Soul”

History is not just a chronicle of kings and kingdoms; it is the living memory of civilisation — an echo of dreams, defeats, discoveries, and divine aspirations. Among the countless tales that the sands of time whisper, the story of India — Bharat Varsha — stands apart as a symphony of spirituality, struggle, and survival. What fascinates me most are those moments in Indian history where human behaviour, scientific temperament, and philosophical wisdom converged to define what it means to be human.

The Vedic Age: When Thought Became Cosmos

The dawn of Indian civilisation glowed with the Vedas — not merely scriptures, but vibrations of consciousness. The hymns of the Rigveda were not the chants of superstition but the seeds of science, psychology, and philosophy. “Ekam sat vipra bahudha vadanti” — truth is one, sages call it by different names — still echoes as an anthem of inclusivity.

Here was the world’s first exploration into the human psyche and the universe’s mystery, where matter and spirit were seen as threads of one eternal fabric. The Upanishads discussed energy, perception, and the nature of consciousness long before modern physics spoke of quantum reality. The Indian mind thus began its timeless dance between science and soul.

The Mauryan Era: Empire of Ethics and Enlightenment

When Ashoka laid down his sword after the carnage of Kalinga, India witnessed a psychological revolution. His remorse became a movement, his conquest turned inward. The Dhamma that followed was more powerful than any weapon — it sought to conquer hatred with compassion.

From rock edicts to Buddhist stupas, Ashoka’s reign radiated a new humanism. His message remains relevant even today: that governance without empathy breeds ruin, and that true victory lies in moral strength, not in might. In a world often ruled by ego and greed, his transformation reminds us of the power of inner awakening.

The Golden Age of Science and Art: Gupta Dynasty’s Light

The Gupta era (4th to 6th century CE) stands as a golden milestone — a time when India shimmered with intellectual brilliance. Aryabhata charted the stars, giving zero to the world — that humble yet infinite symbol of mathematical genius. Sushruta performed surgical miracles, while Kalidasa painted love, longing, and nature through verses that still intoxicate the soul.

This was an age when temples rose not just as places of worship, but as centres of art, acoustics, and astronomy. Every sculpture carved in stone seemed to pulse with the energy of human creativity. The Guptas proved that progress is not merely economic, but aesthetic, ethical, and intellectual.

The Bhakti Movement: The Revolution of the Heart

As centuries rolled on, India turned inward again — this time through love. Saints like Kabir, Mirabai, Tulsidas, and Guru Nanak bridged divide through song and surrender. The Bhakti movement was not a political revolution but a psychological one — it freed the human mind from ritual and caste, and the heart from fear.

Philosophically, it taught that divinity resides not in temples or texts, but in the tenderness of a compassionate soul. Its echoes are felt even today in Indian music, poetry, and prayer — proof that emotional intelligence can often heal what intellect cannot.

The Freedom Struggle: Science, Soul, and Sacrifice

The 19th and 20th centuries transformed India into a cauldron of awakening. Colonialism, though oppressive, also ignited the flame of reform and resistance. Visionaries like Raja Ram Mohan Roy, Swami Vivekananda, and Mahatma Gandhi blended intellect with idealism, science with spirituality, and rebellion with righteousness.

The Swadeshi movement was as much about economics as it was about psychology — reclaiming self-worth from servitude. Gandhi’s Ahimsa became a scientific experiment in moral physics — demonstrating that truth and love could exert forces stronger than bullets and chains.

When India awoke to freedom in 1947, it was not merely a political event; it was a rebirth of a civilisation. Tagore’s dream of a nation “where the mind is without fear and the head is held high” had finally taken form.

The Space Age and Scientific India: Tradition Meets Tomorrow

From Aryabhata the astronomer to Aryabhata the satellite, India’s journey from spiritual introspection to cosmic exploration remains unparalleled. The Indian Space Research Organisation’s triumphs — Chandrayaan, Mangalyaan, and Gaganyaan — symbolise not just technology, but tenacity.

It is as if the rishis’ meditative gaze upon the stars has evolved into a scientific quest. Psychology meets physics, faith meets fact — and together they define the modern Indian identity: humble, hopeful, and forward-looking.

Philosophical Reflection: The Eternal Continuum

The fascination with Indian history lies in its timeless rhythm — where decline is never destruction and rebirth is always renewal. Empires rose and fell, yet the essence of Sanatana Dharma — the eternal order — endured. The Indian psyche has always believed that every end is but a beginning in disguise.

Survival here is not about power but about adaptation through wisdom. The heart of India beats in balance — between science and soul, between chaos and cosmos, between yesterday and tomorrow.

From Vedic fires to rockets high,
Bharat’s dream still lights the sky.
Through storm and silence, peace and pain,
The soul of India breathes again.

In every heart her spirit burns,
In every fall, her faith returns.
Time may fade, but truth shall stay —
For Bharat walks the cosmic way.