Untangling the Wires: The One Technology We Might Be Better Off Without

Untangling the Wires: The One Technology We Might Be Better Off Without

There is an odd beauty in asking which technology we would be better off without. It is like holding a mirror to modern civilisation: the glittering innovations, the complex networks, and beneath them, the unseen cracks that quietly widen under our feet. In an age where our daily lives shimmer with scientific marvels—from quantum processors to self-learning algorithms—choosing a technology to forgo feels almost sacrilegious. Yet, introspection is often the first step towards progress.

After much contemplation, one technology stands out as both transformative and troubling: predictive personal surveillance technology—the vast ecosystem of data-mining tools, behavioural trackers, and algorithmic profiling systems that claim to “optimise” our lives while quietly scripting them.

A World Under Watchful Eyes

Predictive surveillance is not simply CCTV cameras perched on lampposts. It is a sprawling system:

– smartphone sensors that follow our steps,

– algorithms that learn our preferences before we articulate them,

– apps that map our social behaviour,

– devices that listen even when we are silent.

Scientifically, it is a masterpiece of data engineering. Terabytes of information feed machine-learning engines, producing predictions with astonishing accuracy—consumer behaviour, emotional tendencies, even potential political inclinations. It has legitimate applications: preventing fraud, enhancing medical diagnostics, and improving urban planning. Yet, these benefits come with a price we rarely calculate.

Technically Brilliant, Socially Burdensome

Predictive surveillance thrives on one raw material: human privacy.
And privacy—unlike oil—cannot be replenished.

The practical viability of removing or restricting such technology is grounded in a simple truth: human beings function best when they have room to think, err, and evolve. When every action is tracked, measured, and modelled, freedom shrinks—not always through force, but subtly, psychologically.

A world without this technology would mean:

– fewer algorithmic assumptions about who we are,

– less pressure to conform to predicted patterns,

– more space for spontaneity,

– reduced risk of mass profiling or exploitation,

– greater trust in human-to-human interaction.

This is not a rejection of technology but a call for recalibration—an encouragement to adopt tools that empower us rather than tools that script us.

The Intellectual and Philosophical Lens

Philosophers from Aristotle to Tagore have spoken of the sanctity of self-governance. To be fully human is to articulate one’s own choices, even imperfectly. When prediction becomes too precise, individuality risks dissolving into patterns on a screen.

Jean-Paul Sartre might argue that predictive technologies dilute existential freedom, reducing us from creatures of will to datasets of probability.

In ancient Indian philosophy, particularly in the Upanishads, the value of internal exploration surpasses the noise of external measurement. To “know oneself” becomes harder when every moment is already being known by something else.

Looking Towards the Future

Futuristic societies will not shun technology—they will refine it, temper it, and humanise it. If we must let go of something, let it be the tools that steal our autonomy under the guise of convenience.

Instead, imagine a society where:

– AI is assistive, not intrusive,

– data belongs to the individual,

– choices stem from human intuition,

– privacy is treated as a fundamental right,

– technology bends to societal ethics, not the other way around.

– Such a future is not naïve; it is necessary.

Closing Thoughts

Stepping away from predictive surveillance does not pull us back into the dark ages. Instead, it might illuminate corners of our humanity that high-precision algorithms unintentionally shadow. Progress need not mean surrender; innovation need not mean intrusion.

And so, perhaps the technology we would be better off without is one that knows too much—more than it should, more than we need it to.

Not every spark must blaze the night,
Not every truth requires a light;
Some roads the human soul must tread,
Unmapped, unknown, by instinct led.

In the silence free from scans,
We breathe, we dream, redraw our plans;
Let wisdom guide the world we build
With privacy preserved, and freedom filled.

Stirring Memories, Seasoning Joy: Our Holiday Kitchen Chronicles

Stirring Memories, Seasoning Joy: Our Holiday Kitchen Chronicles

Holidays, in every home and every culture, have their own unmistakable flavour — a blend of nostalgia, celebration, and simmering pots that tell stories far beyond their ingredients. In our family, the festive season is never merely about dates on the calendar; it is a grand culinary overture that brings generations, traditions, and emotions together under one aromatic roof. Food becomes the faithful messenger of love, the keeper of memories, and the silent guest at every celebration.

A Kitchen Where Seasons Change but Flavours Stay

Our holiday kitchen has always been a bustling crossroads — where childhood recollections shake hands with present-day improvisations. Even now, after retirement, while living in Bangalore with my son Akash, daughter-in-law Pushpa, grandchildren, and my beloved wife Agnes, the kitchen transforms into a cosy sanctuary during festive times. The clang of ladles, the comforting fragrance of ghee, and the sizzling symphonies on the tawa all conspire to whisper, “The celebrations have begun.”

Agnes’s Signature Spread — A Taste of Punjab with a Graceful Spin

My wife, Agnes, becomes the undisputed maestro of the festive menu. Her culinary talent is the stuff of family legend. Come Christmas, Easter, or any holiday worth its salt, she dusts off her cherished recipes and the kitchen turns into her warm little theatre.

Her Punjabi-style chicken roast — marinated overnight in yoghurt, lemon, pepper, and her secret melody of spices — could make even the most solemn saint break into a jig. The vegetable cutlets, crisp on the outside and soft inside, remind me of the school feasts I once organised as a Principal — wholesome, comforting, and universally loved. And during Lent or Good Friday, her simple fish fry with just ginger, garlic, lime, and mustard oil becomes a revelation, proof that miracles exist even in minimalist cooking.

A Father–Son Bond Simmering on the Stove

Akash, with his exacting nature as a legal and compliance professional, carries that same precision to the kitchen. During holidays, he joins me in trying out something “new but safe,” as he teasingly phrases it. Together we prepare a mutton Rogan Josh — fiery red, aromatic, and cooked slowly until the meat falls apart like old regrets. The kitchen becomes a battleground of fragrant debates. He stirs the pot with the seriousness of a courtroom submission while I sprinkle in experience, memories, and the occasional philosophical musing.

My Own Modest Contribution — Simple, Honest, and Heart-Warming

I have never claimed any Michelin star ambitions. My cooking is humble, straightforward, and drawn from years of boarding school simplicity. Holidays to me often tasted like mashed potatoes — buttery clouds that melt all worries — and finger chips, the timeless favourite of children and adults alike. Even today, my grandchildren light up at the sight of them, and that alone makes the effort worthwhile. Perhaps that’s the true magic of festive food: its ability to turn ordinary ingredients into extraordinary smiles.

A Vegetarian Offering — Healthy, Colourful, Comforting

Pushpa often steps in with her signature vegetarian delight — palak paneer or a mixed vegetable pulao dotted with cashews and raisins. Her dishes embody her personality: calm, composed, balanced, and quietly nourishing. They round off the holiday table beautifully, creating harmony between indulgence and simplicity.

More Than Recipes — They Are Rituals

Over the years, I’ve learnt that holiday dishes don’t merely fill plates; they fill the heart. They are bookmarks in the novel of our lives — the taste of Christmas mornings, the aroma of Diwali evenings, the warmth of family reunions, and the comfort of knowing that no matter how far we roam, these familiar flavours will lead us home again.

Holiday cooking in our family isn’t about extravagance. It is about celebrating togetherness — like stirring hope into a pot, seasoning love into a pan, and serving joy on a plate. The dishes may change with time and geography, but the sentiment remains evergreen.

In the End…

When the dining table glows under the soft light of celebration, when the laughter rises like steam, when flavours meet feelings — that is when holidays truly begin. And if you listen closely, amidst the clatter and chatter, you will hear the gentle voice of gratitude saying, “This is what family tastes like.”

Nights Unchained: How I’d Live a Life Without Sleep

Nights Unchained: How I’d Live a Life Without Sleep

If the universe suddenly whispered, “You no longer need sleep,” I imagine my life unfolding like an undiscovered continent—vast, thrilling, and shimmering with possibilities. What would I do with those additional hours, when the world is hushed and time itself seems to walk barefoot? I would not merely fill the hours; I would transform them into something unforgettable.

Exploring the World When It Isn’t Looking

First, I’d reclaim the night as my personal playground. There is something magical about roaming through quiet lanes, where even the streetlights seem to hum secrets. I’d walk under the moonlit sky, letting ideas fall like shooting stars. Cities at night have a face they never show to day—raw, poetic, unmasked. And I would be its lone witness.

Midnight University: Degrees in Everything

My sleepless hours would be my admission ticket to what I fondly call The Midnight University—a place with no deadlines, no tuition, and no boundaries.

I would:

– learn a new language every few months,

– revisit the elegance of calculus and classical mechanics,

– decode the mysteries of Indian astrology,

– and even dabble in anthropology to understand why humans behave the way they do.

No exams—just pure, unadulterated curiosity. When others dream, I would learn.

Crafting My Own Symphony of the Night

Music would become my midnight companion. I’d explore unheard ragas, improvise soft melodies, and let the harmonium breathe as though it, too, were freed from the tyranny of time. In those quiet hours, I might even record an album—Ragas for the Restless Soul—a tribute to sleepless dreamers like me.

The Writer Who Never Runs Out of Time

Words have a strange habit: they arrive when you are least prepared. With no sleep to chase me away, I would let the words pour out like monsoon rain over parched earth. I would write:

– travelogues of places I haven’t yet visited,

– stories set in old Himalayan boarding schools,

– philosophical reflections on time and memory,

– and maybe even a wild, humorous novel inspired by my own life’s detours.

No rush, no clock, no eyelids demanding surrender.

Reinventing Myself—Piece by Piece

With all that time, I would rebuild myself from the inside out.

I would meditate at 3 a.m. when the world’s noise shrinks to a whisper.
I would practise breathing techniques older than empires.
I would stretch, strengthen, and walk until my body learnt the calm luxury of movement.

Without sleep, I wouldn’t live more hours—I would live them better.

Experiments in the Quiet Corners of Life

Freed from fatigue, I would attempt the things I always pushed aside:

– master the perfect Odia pakhala without creating a culinary crime scene,

– build a miniature model of my childhood as it existed in the 1970s,

– trace my family history through maps, letters, and memories,

– restore forgotten photographs into stories again,

– and maybe start an eccentric 3 a.m. online club for thinkers, wanderers, and insomniacs.

Life would become a beautiful laboratory of experiments.

Night Drives with Myself

I’d take the car for long drives while the world slept. The empty highways would be my meditation mat, their long ribbons stretching into the unknown. Bangalore to Mysore in the ghost hours—why not? With a flask of tea, soft Jim Reeves playing, and the stars keeping score, I would rediscover India one silent kilometre at a time.

Giving Back in Invisible Ways

With no sleep pulling me away, I’d spend quiet hours helping others—responding to students seeking guidance, drafting training modules, reading research, crafting advice for schools, and lending young educators the strength I once needed.

Unseen work is often the most meaningful.

In the End…

A life without sleep wouldn’t just be longer—it would be deeper, stranger, more alive. I would use every extra hour not as a cushion but as a canvas. The night would no longer be an ending; it would be a beginning.

And if someone asked,
“Don’t you miss dreaming?”
I would smile and say,
“No. I’m too busy living with them.”

The Three Irritants That Ruffle My Calm

The Three Irritants That Ruffle My Calm

There are days when life ambles along like a leisurely river under a winter sun—and then there are days when a few, very specific behaviours stir the waters, sending tiny ripples across my otherwise philosophical calm. I do not claim to be flawless; age and experience have taught me that imperfections are as essential as breath. Yet, a few pet peeves do raise their heads, nudging my patience and whispering, “Surely we can do better as a civilisation.”

Here, then, are my top three—listed not with irritation, but with a contemplative sigh, a sprinkle of humour, and a philosopher’s conviction that self-awareness is the first step toward grace.

1. The Art of Speaking Without Listening

If civilisation were a symphony, listening would be its most delicate note. Yet many people treat conversations like verbal sprints, eager to reach the finish line of their own opinions.

What irks me is not disagreement—diversity of thought is the lifeblood of progress—but the habit of talking at rather than talking with. When someone interrupts just as you are about to land a meaningful idea, the moment evaporates like mist over the Himalayan foothills.

As someone who has guided countless students, staff members, and parents, I have always believed that true leadership—and true humanity—rests in the ability to listen deeply. When this art is abandoned, discourse becomes noisy.

2. Delayed Responses in a Hyper-Connected Era

I belong to a generation that wrote letters with fountain pens, waited for postmen, and savoured the thrill of a reply that arrived after days—or weeks. Ironically, in the digital age of instant messaging, it is not the delay itself that annoys me but the indifference behind the delay.

A simple acknowledgement—“Received,” “Will reply shortly”—costs nothing but conveys respect. Yet messages vanish into the void, as if sucked into a black hole of modern detachment.

In a world where everyone is connected, it is remarkable how quickly one can feel left out or invisible. Perhaps this is why delayed responses now pinch a little more sharply—they reflect not time, but priority.

3. Chaos Masquerading as Creativity

As a former Principal and someone shaped by the discipline of Physics, I admire the elegance of order.

But some people believe that messiness is a mark of genius. While that may be true for the likes of Einstein, for the rest of us chaos often leads only to forgotten deadlines, misplaced sincerity, and the famous refrain:
“I thought you were doing it!”

Whether it is unstructured meetings, haphazard planning, or simply clutter—physical or emotional—I find it unsettling. Order, to me, is not rigidity but a silent courtesy. It allows life to flow smoothly, like a well-composed musical score where each note knows exactly when to arrive.

A Gentle Reflection

Pet peeves are not judgements; they are small windows into our values. Mine arise from a life shaped by discipline, humility, and a deep longing for meaningful human connection.

I have travelled across classrooms, corridors, hostels, mountains, and memories—and somewhere along the way, I learnt that the world is kinder when we listen, respond, and organise our thoughts before offering them to others.

In the hush of life’s unfolding scroll,
A few small habits test the soul.
Yet patience grows with every breath,
Taming storms that rage beneath.

For even peeves, when understood,
Can shape our hearts towards the good

The Enchanted Ladder of Numbers: A Journey Through the Fibonacci Mystery

The Enchanted Ladder of Numbers: A Journey Through the Fibonacci Mystery

There are numbers we count with, numbers we calculate with, and then there are numbers that seem to whisper the secrets of the universe. Among these mystical companions of mathematics, the Fibonacci numbers stand tall—calm, elegant, and eternally fascinating. They are more than a sequence; they are a bridge between arithmetic and artistry, a melody threaded into nature’s fabric, and a gentle reminder that order hides within apparent chaos.

What Are Fibonacci Numbers?

At first glance, they are a simple pattern:

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34…

Each number is the sum of the two preceding ones.

This recursive simplicity is what gives the sequence its charm—every term owes its existence to what came before, much like generations in a family, or years in a person’s life.

Where Did They Come From? – The Origin Story

The story of Fibonacci numbers begins in Medieval Italy with Leonardo of Pisa, fondly known as Fibonacci (short for “filius Bonacci” – the son of Bonacci).
In his 1202 book Liber Abaci, he introduced the sequence through a simple problem:

How many pairs of rabbits can be produced from a single pair in one year if every month each pair produces another pair that becomes fertile after two months?

The answer to this rabbit riddle gave birth to the sequence we now know across continents and centuries.

Although Fibonacci popularised it in Europe, older traces of the pattern exist in classical Indian mathematics. Scholars like Acharya Hemachandra described similar sequences long before the West named them after Fibonacci. History, as always, rewards curiosity across cultures.

How Was This Sequence “Invented”?

The sequence was not invented in the strict sense but rather discovered—a natural outcome of exploring growth patterns. Fibonacci merely framed a situation where the pattern revealed itself. His brilliance lay in observing that numbers could model biological reproduction, turning a simple puzzle into a timeless mathematical gem.

Why Are Fibonacci Numbers So Interesting?

Because they keep showing up everywhere.

They quietly appear in:

– Nature’s Architecture

– the spiral of sunflower seeds

– the branching of trees

– pine cones

– nautilus shells

– hurricanes

– galaxies

These spirals often follow ratios that echo the Fibonacci sequence, suggesting nature’s fondness for efficiency and balance.

Art, Design & Beauty

The Golden Ratio, approximately 1.618, is intimately tied to Fibonacci numbers. Artists and architects have relied on it—sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously—to create proportions pleasing to the human eye.

The Parthenon, Leonardo da Vinci’s sketches, modern digital design layouts—all resonate with this silent rule of symmetry.

Music & Poetry

Rhythmic structures, stanza lengths, and even Indian classical compositions sometimes fall into Fibonacci patterns.
The mind loves balance, and Fibonacci provides a rhythm that feels both surprising and inevitable.

Computers and Science

In today’s world, Fibonacci numbers and the Golden Ratio appear in:

– coding algorithms

– data structures

– search techniques

– stock market analysis

– population modelling

– cryptography

From medieval rabbit puzzles to cutting-edge computation—the jump is astonishing.

Human Psychology

The unpredictability-yet-patterned nature of the sequence has fascinated philosophers. It symbolises growth, resilience, and continuity—echoing how life evolves, sometimes steadily, sometimes dramatically.

Applications in the Modern World

1. Finance: stock chart patterns, Elliott waves, and risk-prediction tools.

2. Architecture: ratio-based room sizes, façade layouts, staircases.

3. Digital Imaging: pixel arrangements, cropping, and composition.

4. Biology: phyllotaxis (leaf arrangement), DNA structure.

5. Gaming: procedural generation in virtual landscapes.

6. Artificial Intelligence: optimisation algorithms.

This 800-year-old idea continues to reinvent itself.

Why Do They Feel Magical?

Perhaps because Fibonacci numbers tell a story of harmony emerging from recurrence.
Perhaps because the sequence mirrors our own lives: we grow by building upon what came before.
Or perhaps because, like poetry, these numbers show that simplicity can blossom into profound beauty.

Whatever the reason, the Fibonacci sequence is a reminder that mathematics is not dry—it is alive, breathing through petals, waves, galaxies, and imagination.

In petals curled in nature’s hand,
In seashell spirals on the sand,
A whisper runs from one to two,
A secret code the ages knew.

From Pisian quill to cosmic dome,
These numbers weave the world we roam,
An ancient tune the stars still sing—
The Fibonacci wondrous spring.

Creatures of My Quiet Affection

Creatures of My Quiet Affection
A reflection on the animals that have shaped my wonder, wisdom, and wandering heart

Animals have always been extraordinary teachers—silent philosophers wrapped in fur, feather, or scale. Though I do not claim a particular favourite, I find myself quietly enchanted by many of them, each offering a unique lesson, a tender memory, or a whisper of philosophy that lingers long after the moment has passed.

The Elephant: The Gentle Giant of Memory

Whenever I watch an elephant, whether in the wilderness or in a documentary, I am reminded of calm strength. The elephant walks with the weight of centuries yet steps with astonishing softness—as though mindful of the very earth that sustains it. Its familial loyalty and emotional intelligence mirror the deepest human values we aspire to uphold. In their slow, majestic gait, I find the wisdom to move through life with intention rather than haste.

The Dog: The Friend Who Loves Without Conditions

Dogs have long been companions of human hearts. Their loyalty is never bargaining, their affection never measured. A dog’s gentle presence can brighten the darkest evenings and bring joy to the quietest corners of a home. Even without owning one, I have felt moved by their unspoken message: love fearlessly, live faithfully, and trust more than you doubt.

The Butterfly: The Poet of Transformation

Few creatures embody the beauty of change as gracefully as the butterfly. Its delicate wings remind me that transformation, however painful, can blossom into something breathtaking. Watching a butterfly flit across a garden is like seeing a line of poetry take flight—fragile, fleeting, but deeply meaningful. The butterfly whispers a universal truth: nothing stays the same, yet everything can become beautiful.

The Horse: The Symbol of Freedom and Grace

A horse running across an open field is a vision of pure freedom. Their strength does not suppress; it elevates. Their grace does not demand attention; it earns admiration. They remind me that freedom is not the absence of boundaries but the presence of purpose. In their galloping strides, I sense a rhythm that resonates with the human spirit—steady, strong, and endlessly hopeful.

The Sparrow: The Keeper of Everyday Joy

Often overlooked, the humble sparrow sings with an enthusiasm that outshines the grandest birds of the sky. Its presence each morning teaches resilience, gratitude, and the charm of simple joys. A sparrow reminds me that life’s quiet moments—those uncelebrated bits of daily existence—can still echo with warmth if we choose to notice them.

Life has taught me that one need not have a “favourite” to appreciate beauty. Affection is not always about choosing one over another; it is about recognising the little spark of divinity in every living being. Animals, in their innocence and instinct, reveal truths that even philosophy sometimes fails to articulate.

In feathered flight and padded tread,
In quiet nooks where sparrows tread,
Each creature holds a tale untold,
Of tender hearts and instincts bold.

No favourites kept, yet love I find,
In every form of life entwined.
For nature speaks in many tongues,
Through ancient beasts and newborn youngs.

Where the Waves Meet the Peaks: A Heart Caught Between Two Horizons

Where the Waves Meet the Peaks: A Heart Caught Between Two Horizons

There are questions in life that have easy answers—tea or coffee, morning or night, trousers or shorts. And then there are the profound ones, the ones that tug at the deepest recesses of our being. Beach or mountains? For many, it is a choice. For me, it is a celebration—because I prefer both, and each speaks to a different chamber of my heart.

The beach is a poem whispered by the wind. Its rhythm mimics the pulse of the earth—waves embracing the shore with eternal devotion, retreating only to return with renewed passion. There is something irresistibly romantic about the sea: its vastness, its mysteries, and the way it invites you to walk barefoot into its arms. Every footprint on the sand feels like a fleeting thought, washed gently by the tide, reminding us that nature has its own way of editing our stories.

Yet the mountains—ah, the mountains!—they rise like ancient philosophers, carved by time and crowned by silence. Standing amidst them is like entering a cathedral with no walls, no rituals, and no restrictions—only the sacred dialogue between you and the universe. Their whispers come in the form of rustling pines, and their breath arrives as crisp, cool winds that brush your cheeks with affection. The mountains teach stillness; they remind you that at the top of any climb lies not triumph, but humility.

Between the golden shimmer of the coast and the emerald majesty of the highlands lies the essence of adventure. The beach invites you to play—to run along the shore, taste salt on your lips, ride the waves, and laugh with abandon. The mountains beckon you to explore—to trek into unknown trails, chase sunrises that appear like shy brides, and feel the thrill of chasing the sky itself. One is a festival; the other, a pilgrimage. One charms you with warmth; the other challenges you with height. And in this vibrant contrast, life finds its balance.

Romanticism thrives in both terrains. On the beach, lovers carve their initials into wet sand, sealing promises that last longer in memory than on the shore. In the mountains, hearts beat louder in the silence, where two hands held tightly can warm an entire world. Whether it is the moonlight shimmering on the waves or the first sunlight kissing a snow-capped ridge, nature keeps offering love letters to the human soul.

Philosophically, the beach reminds us of constancy—waves that return, no matter how many times life pulls us away from what we adore. The mountains remind us of perseverance—some heights take longer to reach, but the journey remains worth every breath, every stumble, every step. Together, they teach us to be fluid yet firm, soft yet strong, humble yet hopeful.

So, do I choose the beach or the mountains? The truth is, my heart is a traveller. It dances with the waves and meditates with the peaks. It enjoys the laughter of the shore and the solitude of the pine-scented trails. I belong to both worlds, not because I cannot choose, but because I do not want to diminish the abundance that life so generously offers.

And thus, I embrace both horizons—where adventure meets romance, where nature meets philosophy, and where my own spirit feels most alive.

On the shore where the sea and sky collide,
My heart becomes the wanderer’s tide.
Salt on my lips, wind in my hair—
Life feels lighter, free from care.

But up on the peaks where the eagles soar,
My soul awakens to something more.
Silence speaks in ancient rhyme,
Guiding my steps beyond space and time.

So give me the waves, give me the heights,
The playful days, the starry nights—
For I am the traveller blessed with both,
Bound by wonder, freed by oath.