Girl on the Foot-Over Bridge

Yesterday, my wife showed me news reports about the death of Ali Khamenei’s granddaughter in a joint USA-Israel strike on Iran. While I personally support Israel’s position in this conflict, the photograph of the 14-month-old child visibly unsettled my wife and made me pause as well. I found myself thinking about the fate of the child, who would not have understood what is going on around her. Well, she was not alone as no one completely understands what is going on.

This brief exchange with my wife somehow took me back to 2016. To a personal experience but the context is of Syrian civil war and the refugee crisis.

I would not go into the details of the crisis but by 2015, millions of Syrians were attempting to flee the conflict, seeking refuge across borders. Several neighboring countries like Turkey, Lebanon, Jordan, Iraq and Egypt hosted millions of refugees.

In Europe, Germany opened its doors to a large number of asylum seekers. I remember that I would often joking remark that Germany appeared to be attempting to correct a historical wrong, though I questioned whether such a gesture was necessary or prudent. Countries including Austria, Sweden, Netherlands, and Greece also received significant numbers of refugees.

I remember being particularly struck by France’s position. France has had issues with Islamic fundamentalists. It probably started with the 2010 ban on face-covering veils (burqa). Then in January 2015, the offices of French satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo in Paris were attacked by Islamist gunmen, resulting in the deaths of 12 people. The assault was motivated by the magazine’s earlier publication of cartoons depicting the Prophet Muhammad, which had generated significant controversy. “Je suis Charlie” (French for “I am Charlie”) emerged as a worldwide slogan, hashtag, and emblem of solidarity in defense of freedom of expression and the press.

That France was also among the nations that extended shelter to Syrian refugees – though in comparatively small numbers (roughly 50,000) - struck me as bizarre! France indeed has been facing issues as there have been concerns about security, national identity, and the capacity to integrate migrants.

Back in 2015, in various discussions and on social media, I was vocal in criticizing what I perceived as an overly casual and permissive approach by several European countries. I argued that unchecked influx of Syrian refugees was risky as it was believed that even radicals, involved in mass killings in Syria, were using the situation to get into Europe. I maintained firmly that Syrian refugees should remain within neighboring region.

Yet, even as I held that view, a single image shook me. In September 2015, a two-year-old Syrian boy drowned in the Mediterranean while his family attempted to reach Europe. The photographs of his small body on a Turkish beach became the symbol of the crisis. The image haunted me for some days and may be weeks but then like it always happens, we moved on and forgot about it. My strong opinion about the Syrian refugees did not change though.

Then something happened in late 2016. It did not change my opinion but gave me another perspective.

It was the time when me and my family were preparing for our relocation from Malaysia to India. We had spent 5 years in Malaysia and were looking forward to the move to India. We were quite busy with the packing, paperwork and coordination with the cargo company. Our departure was probably a week away and then – like always in the last minute - my wife reminded about my daughter’s bicycle. My daughter was 5 years old and was extremely fond of her pink and white bicycle. It would have been prudent to sell off the bike and buy a new one in India but so much was about to change in her young life that I did not want her to part with something familiar and comforting.

Transporting the bicycle required dismantling it properly, so we decided to take it to the same shop from which we had bought it. The incident happened on the way.

It must have been around 3PM and we took a cab to go to the bicycle shop. At a busy traffic junction, I noticed a well-built man in a thick brown T-shirt and grey trousers. He was barefoot, moving from one vehicle to another, asking for help. Homelessness and begging, while not as visible as in India, do exist in Kuala Lumpur, so at first I paid little attention. A few seconds later, I looked again and saw that he was holding a piece of cardboard that read: “Syrian Refugee. Looking for Work and Help.” I looked at him for few seconds as I had not met or seen someone from Syria before. I was certain that I would not give him any money - primarily because of my strong opinion regarding Syrian refugees.

I looked away.

Near the junction stood a foot-over bridge (or pedestrian overpass) and I noticed a little girl sitting on the stairs. She was about the same age as my daughter. She was fair, had unkempt hair, and was barefoot. She was wearing a soiled frock - which I am sure would have been white back in Syria. Both the frock and the little girl looked as though they had seen much better days.

She watched the Syrian man with an expression that can be best described as a combination of affection, hope, and a child’s boredom. I looked at the Syrian man and at that point I noticed that, while he was busy going from one vehicle to another, he was regularly looking at her. While I am not certain, but I think she was his daughter.

Even in that condition, the little girl was strikingly beautiful. Her face radiated innocence. I kept looking at them – especially the little girl.

(Since I am sure you are thinking about it, let me clarify that it was a busy signal and we were there for few minutes.)

Then something else happened. A ragpicker – apparently a Malaysian homeless man - appeared from nowhere and started climbing the stairs of the foot-over bridge. He too had unkempt hair, wore a dirty shirt and khaki shorts. He was wearing a pair of slippers. When he reached the girl, he stopped. I felt a surge of anxiety. I looked at the Syrian man but at that moment, he was not looking at his daughter. This made me even more anxious.

Suddenly, the ragpicker reached into his bag and took out a half-eaten packet of potato chips. I distinctly remember shouting a silent “No” from inside the car. The girl looked at the packet, then at the man, then back at the packet. I hoped she would refuse, worrying that it might be unhygienic. I also questioned the ragpicker’s intentions. We clearly had different concerns in mind. She was thinking of hunger, I was thinking of hygiene and her safety.

She glanced toward the Syrian man, who at that very moment - much to my relief – looked toward her. He paused briefly and nodded, giving silent permission. The girl smiled. I still clearly remember that beautiful smile. She looked at the ragpicker, smiled again, and accepted the chips. The ragpicker gently and lovingly touched her head and walked away. I felt a sudden strange pain in my heart. It broke my heart to see she was so hungry that she was willing to take a half-eaten packet of chips.

Just then, the traffic began to move. Argghhh!!!

I do not know why but I asked the taxi driver to stop. He refused, saying he could not halt in the middle of the junction. Of course! I asked him to cross and stop beyond it. He replied that our destination was only 400 metres ahead and that it would be better to stop there. I agreed.

When we reached the bicycle shop, I carried the bike inside and asked my wife to supervise the dismantling as I have to go somewhere. She looked puzzled but did not question or stop me.

I ran back toward the junction hoping to find the girl there. I was desperate and ran as fast as I could. Somehow, it still took a while! When I reached the junction, I was relieved to see that the little girl was still sitting on the same step, eating the chips slowly, as if determined to savor each bite.

I crossed the road and approached her. She was startled to see a chubby Indian man hurriedly approaching her - while gasping for air!! (okay, I am not a runner......yeah yeah, I am not even a walker)

I stopped and looked towards the Syrian man, who by now had noticed me and was hurriedly moving towards us. When he reached us, I asked him if the girl was his daughter. That is when I realized that he does not understand English. He obviously did not understand Hindi, and I did not understand his language. He was looking at me with suspicion.

So, using gestures, I tried to explain that I too had a daughter of similar age. I took out my wallet and handed him all the cash inside. I do not know how much money was in it as I never have an idea about the money in my wallet, but it was not a small sum. I handed him the money and tried to explain to him that it is for her, and he should buy her something to eat. With gesture, I blessed her.

I do not know how much he understood but I think he did get some of it. He no longer looked at me with suspicion. He said a few things softly, but I did not understand him. He extended his hand and we shook hands. He had very thick, very strong hand and a firm handshake. I looked at the girl and smiled. She was looking at us and had a puzzled expression on her face. I wanted to say something to her. I think I did. She did not understand me. I said bye to both and turned back to go to my confused wife and my little angel - who was probably thinking that we have come to buy another bicycle for her! When I reached her, I hugged her and silently prayed that she stays away from misfortunes.

Three thoughts came to me on that day - two immediate, one later.

The first was that I wished I had more money in my wallet. They clearly needed help.

The second thought troubles me to this day. I wish I had bought her some snacks on the way. There was no time to buy a proper meal, but I could have stopped - during my marathon - to buy her something to eat.

The third thought came hours later. And it returned yesterday, when my wife showed me the photograph of the deceased granddaughter of Ali Khamenei. Whatever positions we may take on conflicts between nations, religions, races, or political ideologies, when we arrive at the most fundamental human level - the level of an individual, especially a child - our instinct is not to argue but to feel for them. And if possible - unless the person is truly evil or it's a matter of nation's interest - respond with humanity.

That is the way it should be. Before we are citizens, supporters, critics, or opponents, we are human beings. And it is precisely this reflex - to see the child before the flag, the person before the politics - that is likely to preserve what is best in us. If anything can sustain humanity through its divisions, it is that simple, uncalculated impulse to care. 

The Day I Dread, Long Before It Comes

A dear friend’s daughter left for Australia today to pursue higher studies. I do not know about the friend but somehow it is making me extremely emotional. I of course know the kid, but I am not even remotely close. We have hardly interacted. Yet it is making me emotional. She is still in transit, and I cannot stop myself from thinking about her, how she will manage everything, how she will cope up in a new country, and a new environment. She is a confident girl, and I know that she would be able to manage everything well. Then, why am I freaking out?

Or is it that I am thinking about MY little one? One day she would also step out of the house to explore the world. We have been over-protective, and I know that day I would be crying buckets and shitting bricks! 

Am I thinking all of that in my subconscious mind? May be. 

I do understand that eventually everyone has to find their own path. There is no escaping that truth. Growing up, I lived largely in a cocoon-like environment of military cantonments - with structured lives, protected spaces. When I finally stepped out into the real world, I was not ready. I struggled. A lot. But I survived. I adapted. I settled down. 

So logically, there is no reason why today’s kids - despite their carelessness, indiscipline, lack of life skills (wait… I seem to have accidentally switched on my Typical Dad Mode) - will not manage the challenges that come their way. In fact, they probably have far more exposure, confidence, and resilience than we ever did.

But I am scared. And I dread that day.

Cost of Closeness

If an angel were to grant a wish, many would ask for wealth, comfort, or joy. Others would wish for health and happiness for those closest to them. 

At other times, I might have chosen the same. But not today. Not at this moment...

At this very moment, my wish would be different. I would ask for the ability to conceal my emotions - my angst and pain - when they are caused by those I love, and for the power to not utter a word when an inner storm is stirred by their words or actions. 

The deepest suffering rarely comes from strangers.

नहीं रखता दिल में कुछ, 

रखता हूँ ज़ुबान पर

समझें न अपने भी कभी.....

What Blogging Means to Me: Shouting in a Deserted Street

I recently wrote a blog post and shared it with friends and family before publishing it. Since the topic was mildly controversial and referenced specific people, I wanted to be factually accurate and politically correct. 

They read it, approved it, and encouraged me to go ahead. 

The trouble is that most of them did not take any time in giving me the go ahead. Knowing some of them, I wont be surprised if a few just wanted to see what happens next!!! 

When the post finally went live and nothing happened, some of them sounded oddly disappointed. They asked why no one was reacting. I explained that I am not Chetan Bhagat or Amish Tripathi, and hardly anyone reads my blogs. That explanation disappointed them even more. But frankly, I was surprised they had assumed otherwise.

Since the expected 'explosion' never occurred, the next suggestion was even more interesting. I was advised to actively send the blog post to various people - including those who might be offended by it! 

Needless to say, I refused. 

For me, blogging serves two very simple purposes.

First, if there is a topic I feel strongly about - something that has been bothering me, unsettling me, or occupying too much mental space - I write about it. It could be a rant, a strong opinion, something that moved me or even plain cribbing. Writing helps me take it out of my system.

Second, once I publish a post, my opinion is out there. It feels like standing in the middle of a street and shouting at the top of my lungs. That, to me, is liberating. Now, whether the street is crowded or completely empty, it does not matter. Its irrelevant. I have shouted. People could have heard me. If they chose not to be there in the street, that is not my concern. 

And for some posts, I genuinely do not mind the street being empty!

What some of these friends expect is - since shouting in the street did not result in a Kambal Kutai (i.e., royal bashing) - I should now go knocking on doors and shout directly into people’s faces.

Sorry doston but I am not that stupid!! 🙂

I am happy shouting in my deserted street.

On Respect, Recognition, Biasedness and Overreaction

Recently, I came across clippings from a television interview of Mary Kom on 'Aap Ki Adalat with Rajat Sharma'. The interview attracted widespread criticism, largely due to the tone she adopted and certain remarks she made while speaking about her ex-husband. As someone who has long admired Mary Kom, I found the interview deeply disappointing.

Mary Kom’s achievements need no reiteration. She is one of the most accomplished athletes in Indian sporting history: a six-time World Amateur Boxing Champion, an Olympic bronze medalist, Asian Games and Commonwealth Games gold medalist, and a recipient of India’s highest sporting and civilian honors, including the Padma Bhushan, Padma Shri, Rajiv Gandhi Khel Ratna, and Arjuna Award. Beyond boxing, she has served as a Member of Parliament and is widely regarded as a pioneering figure who helped bring visibility and acceptance to women’s boxing in India. 

Several of Mary Kom’s major awards and victories came after she became a mother, and this is widely regarded as one of the most remarkable aspects of her career. Her journey from humble beginnings in Manipur to global sporting acclaim is inspiring enough to have warranted a biographical film. I have been a big fan of Kom.

It is precisely because of this stature that her remarks felt jarring. Publicly discussing personal disputes is rarely dignified, and in this case, it seemed unnecessary. More troubling was the manner in which she questioned her ex-husband’s role and contribution, making statements along the lines of “what kind of man lives off a woman’s money,” alleging that he withdrew money without her consent, and mentioning that he never had a successful career. These remarks were tasteless.

One could argue that this was a case of being caught off guard by the media. People who are not media savvy, can get sucked into a drain in front of cameras. Television seeks headlines and can exploit personalities; Mary Kom did seem to have been drawn into that trap, which did not favor her long-term reputation. However, after watching the clips, it is difficult to attribute everything to lack of media training. The remarks did not seem accidental; they appeared to reflect genuine beliefs. There seemed to be a clear lack of respect for her ex-husband as he did not earn much and, during their marriage, remained dependent on her earnings.

The videos and comments of Mary Kom triggered several thoughts and emotions. For example, it immediately reminded me of a remark made by actor and stand-up comedian Chris Rock that “Only women, children, and dogs are loved unconditionally. A man is only loved under the condition that he provide something.”

It also raised a hypothetical question. What if the comment was made by a successful man for his wife who, quit her job and set aside her passions to take care of home and children? What if the man had said that his wife was not successful and had belittled her contribution? What if the man had questioned her for withdrawing money or spending money without his permission?

All hell would have broken loose. The backlash would have been swift and severe, ...and rightly so.

This also brought to mind a personal anecdote involving two people I know. One of them is an entrepreneur - intelligent, driven, and successful. After a strong career in financial services, she pivoted to start her own business, which is now doing well and receiving media attention. She is married to someone I know, and both are part of a common WhatsApp group. Lets just call her - Sierra Kilo.

On one occasion, Sierra Kilo shared a news item or media coverage related to her business in the WhatsApp group. It naturally triggered a wave of congratulatory messages. Everyone applauded her success. One member of the group – the second character in this anecdote – congratulated her 'and her husband' in his message. In my view, it was a jovial, light-hearted, and seemingly harmless comment, likely sent out of courtesy since Sierra Kilo's husband is also a member of the group...though it certainly could have been avoided.

He referred to the husband as a “sleeping partner,” which, in my interpretation, served a dual purpose: to include the husband and at the same time, not take anything away from Sierra Kilo. I DO NOT believe the term was used in a formal business sense (Sleeping partner (also called silent partner) refers to a person who invests capital in a business but does not take part in its day-to-day operations or management). She, however, did not appreciate the message and objected on the WhatsApp group, clarifying that the business is a 'sole proprietorship'; she is the 'only Founder' and she runs it 'single-handedly'. 

It did not need clarification but its okay.

However, the matter did not end there. She subsequently wrote a 200+ word LinkedIn post on the subject. In it, she questioned why, when a woman entrepreneur succeeds, people say, “Congratulations to you and your husband.” She questioned why “educated, well-meaning individuals struggle to fully acknowledge a woman’s independent professional journey?”. In her words, “I was taken aback. But only briefly. Because, truth be told, this isn’t new. So I did what I always do – tuned out the noise, focused on the work, and kept going.”

The post got some ‘Likes’ and supportive comments, predominantly from women.

I found the <over>reaction immature, over-the-top and reflective of a tendency to frame the situation through a victimhood lens, while simultaneously projecting an image of being brave and unfazed.

What about the common phrase men have heard for generations: “Behind every successful man, there is a woman”. This has been said about business leaders, sportsmen, and almost every man 'who made it'...if he had a female partner. It has even been suggested that gallantry award winners from the military could fight for the country as there was a woman taking care of the home. How many men have posted about it and tried to play the ‘Victim Card’? How many say that why are you taking some credit away?

I feel that whenever it is said that “Behind every successful man, there is a woman”, it is meant as a compliment for the woman, acknowledging their emotional, domestic, or logistical support. I admit it is a big support and must be acknowledged. That is why, most logical men would never take offence, whenever they hear this.

This brings the discussion back to Mary Kom. Was her husband not providing similar support? I cannot claim personal knowledge of their marriage, but in several earlier interviews, Mary Kom herself openly credited her husband, Onler Kom, for standing by her, managing the household, and caring for their children while she trained and competed. She had repeatedly said she could not have achieved what she did without his support.

Why, then, does that support no longer merit acknowledgment? Is it because they are no longer together? Because the gap in their public and financial stature has widened? Or because personal grievances have reshaped her perception of his role? Whatever the reason, it appears that she is no longer comfortable sharing even a fraction of the credit she once willingly attributed to him. That is entirely up to her but she has no business mocking him in front of millions.

Let me make it very clear that the intention of the post is not to bash women (yeah right...too little too late) but I admit that I am getting dangerously close to that territory. I am just sharing my views on avoiding over-reactions, acknowledging your partner (if and wherever possible), being respectful and .....not having the 'Feminism ka Suleimaani Keeda'. (Oh no! I was this close to de-escalating the situation and I screwed up again!!)

On a serious note, my observations are not about any particular gender; I fully acknowledge that men are often insensitive and frequently discount women’s contributions, at times quite blatantly. Another real-life example illustrates this, involving people I know (examples, it seems, are closer than we often think).

A woman I know is married into a family that appears to be well-off (not certain as I am yet to ask them for their bank statements). They are into several businesses - including a two-wheeler dealership, possibly with multiple outlets. She and her husband slogged their asses off to establish and grow the two-wheeler business. While it may have appeared to several people (or they assume) that the husband has done everything, I know for a fact that she also managed several aspects of the business along with managing home and kids. I am not alien to the automotive industry and I had several discussions with her and was always impressed by her understanding and inquisitiveness. They were also planning to expand into a four-wheeler business, and both devoted immense effort over the years to make it happen.

Despite her relentless work and juggling of responsibilities, which included businesses, home, children, husband’s health, in-laws, another person (I know him too) repeatedly made disrespectful remarks. He would often suggest that she is all set, what does she have to worry about, she can chill and enjoy the fruits of her husband’s hard work and enjoy his wealth. 

Highly insensitive (Buddy, you make all of us look bad). In this case, a question similar to the one asked by Sierra Kilo - why educated, well-meaning individuals struggle to acknowledge a woman’s hard work - is entirely valid.

So, stupidity clearly has no gender.

Anyways, much has been said already. Ultimately, this discussion is not about taking sides or keeping score. Contributions, whether professional, emotional, domestic, or logistical, should neither be belittled nor exaggerated to suit a narrative. Acknowledging a partner’s support should not feel like a dilution of one’s own achievement. Genuine insensitivity should be called out but at the same time, if you do not like a comment, do not over-react turn it into a public outrage. 

The real maturity lies in balance: recognizing effort and support where it exists, calling out bias where it is real, and resisting the urge to turn every imperfect interaction into a larger battle.

(NOTE: If you are curious about how the individuals in the two anecdotes responded, here is what followed. The man in the first instance chose not to react to Sierra Kilo’s response; he was taken aback but decided to let it pass. In contrast, the woman in the second instance addressed the remark directly and firmly at an appropriate moment. She is no abla naari - in fact she is quite the opposite - which is precisely why I fondly refer to her as Jwaala Daaku!!)

If Life Had a Restart Button

If people could have a background score, mine would definitely be.... 

🎵Give me some sunshine, give me some rain, give me another chance, I wanna grow up once again...🎵

Sometimes I wish life were a video game - one where, if you were happy, you could simply continue playing. And if you were unhappy, or felt you had made an error, you could return to a previous stage and replay it.

Or perhaps the game could offer two lives. The first would be exactly as it is now: unplanned, instinctive, and imperfect. A life where we make mistakes, where regret and joy coexist, where happiness arrives unexpectedly. Everything happens organically.

But there would be an option of a 'second life', which would still be played by us - the same person who lived the first life - but this time with the knowledge, and learnings earned in the first life. We would move through life with a clearer awareness of what hurt, what mattered, what we should have done, what we should have avoided, and what we should have let go. Choices would be more deliberate, and hopefully, the mistakes would be fewer.

I agree, it is a weird and random thought. But then again, isn’t that exactly what my blog is all about? Random thoughts. As if I make sense in other posts!

Not sure how would I play the game but ya, I have too many regrets and would be tempted to replay or use the second life.  

A Breezy, Relatable Read: Musafir Cafe

Recently, I read a Hindi book after a long time, and the book was Musafir Cafe. I had been seeing frequent recommendations for it on Instagram, likely because I am always on the lookout for good Indian writing. I find books by Indian authors, or stories set against an Indian backdrop, far more relatable.

Musafir Cafe is a fiction novel by Divya Prakash Dubey. It revolves around a relationship between a confused man (someone I could easily relate to) and a woman with a devil-may-care attitude. The characters undergo an emotional journey, and the story is distinctly contemporary in its setting and sensibilities.

The book does have its shortcomings. Perhaps intentionally, to maintain a fast pace, the characters feel somewhat underdeveloped and the story lacks depth in parts. Certain episodes unfold too quickly, making them appear unrealistic and rushed.

That said, I found the story relatable and emotionally resonant on multiple levels. It transported me back to a phase in life when everything felt exciting and beautiful - largely because of my naivety. Are we not all naive when we are young? We believe we understand love. We think our story is unique and our partner is different. Inevitably, my own hawai kila (castle in the air) came crashing down not long after, and I probably deserved that rude awakening. Yet, in retrospect, life felt beautiful then, much like the intensity of a first crush or first love in our teenage years.

I was so engrossed in the book that for two consecutive nights I kept reading late into the night - what some sarcastic people like my wife and friends would call early morning - until I finished it. I wanted to know what happened to Sudha and Chandar and simply could not sleep without closure.

I agree that the book is not a 'piece of art' and does not come even remotely close to being considered an outstanding or highly artistic literary work. However, the fact that it hooked me and I was restless till I completed the story shows that - I have an average taste...but that aside - the book delivers what it intended. A portion of the story hit the rewind button and I felt a strange pain in my chest, the kind I last remember feeling about 20-25 years ago, or perhaps even earlier. 

Musafir Cafe is a breezy read with a simple story, one that I believe will resonate with people who have 'grown up' but were in love during their teenage years or early twenties. If you are one of them, I would recommend reading it. 

Motivation or Discipline

A question I was recently asked was simple on the surface: When will you develop the motivation to start going to the gym and working on your health? While I did not have an immediate answer, it led me to reflect on a broader and more important issue - what truly matters more in achieving long-term health and fitness: motivation or discipline?

In my view, motivation can be a useful starting point, but it is inherently fragile. It can be influenced by circumstances, emotions, external validation, or short-term results. Motivation can ignite action, but it rarely sustains it. Discipline, on the other hand, is what ensures continuity when motivation fades.

I say this with the benefit of personal experience. At various points in my life, I have been highly motivated to work on my health and reduce weight. During those phases, I made meaningful progress and achieved noticeable results. However, each time an obstacle arose - whether a setback, a disruption, or a loss of momentum - the motivation weakened, and the entire plan eventually unraveled. I have observed similar patterns in others as well.

In contrast, I look at my friend Prashant Joshi as a clear example of discipline in action. He made a conscious decision to improve his fitness, overall health, and muscle development. He structured his diet, committed to training under a highly experienced trainer, and followed through consistently. While motivation undoubtedly played a role at the outset, what truly stands out is his discipline.

He adheres to his routine regardless of social settings, holidays, or business travel. Where even highly motivated individuals occasionally deviate during gatherings or indulgent moments, he remains consistent. He avoids food and drinks that would compromise his progress and maintains his workout schedule without exception. Over time, this discipline has translated into visible and sustained results.

This contrast reinforces a belief I hold strongly: motivation may start the journey, but discipline determines whether the journey continues. Discipline enables persistence, consistency, and steady progress - qualities that are essential for achieving long-term goals, particularly in health and fitness.

For these reasons, I believe discipline is not just more important than motivation; it is the foundation upon which lasting change is built.

And for the record, I have neither!! 😜

Language, Politics, and Education: Finding Balance in a Diverse India

I am not sure what I am writing about as I am covering two topics here. First is Language, which has become a hot and highly politicized topic evoking a wide range of emotions. There are debates over 'National Language' and India's 'Three Language Policy'. The whole country is now divided into 'Hindi-Speaking States or Hindi Belt' and Rest of India (largely the southern states). The Hindi-speaking states (largely northern states) do not understand the regional languages especially the languages spoken in the South Indian states and now, several people (not everyone) in the states in South India as well as the state of Maharashtra suddenly do not want to hear anything except their mother tongue. 

This is a highly politicized debate. I feel that when political parties run out of ideas, they start creating divide among people and resort to 'we vs. them'. For example, Raj Thackeray does not like people from UP and Bihar and wanted them to be kicked out of Mumbai. Why? As per him, people from UP and Bihar take away the jobs from Maharashtrians and also pollute the city, commit crimes and what not. Economically backward people in UP and Bihar migrate to bigger cities in search of opportunities and do odd jobs that help them feed their family. They work as security guards, sell vegetables, drive taxis, work as cleaners, plumbers, etc. Yes, some of them may be engaging in crimes, but are crimes committed by people from UP and Bihar only? When we look back at the history of underworld in Mumbai, the involvement of Muslims and Tamilians is significantly high. Why not speak against them? And as far as taking away jobs are concerned, Mumbai being the financial capital, attracts a lot of people from various parts of India - especially Gujaratis, Marwaris from various states. Why not speak against them? Mumbai is such a cosmopolitan city that you would find people from all parts of India. Then why single out people from UP and Bihar? Because they are poor, they do not have a voice, and they are soft targets. Such topics are raised by politicians without a meaningful and productive vision and they use it to get easy and quick mileage. Does not help much and for too long. Look where Raj Thackeray is.

Language debate is similar. Suddenly we hear about incidents in Karnataka, Maharashtra, etc. about arguments and even fights over mother tongue. A delivery boy from north-east India was beaten up in Bengaluru for not being able to speak the regional language of that state. My friend, travelling with his family, was asked to get out of a taxi in Bengaluru for the same reason. Another friend's car was hit by a biker in Pune and instead of apologizing, the biker started arguing about why my friend cannot speak Marathi!! So why is all this happening? It is because political parties are telling people that Hindi is being forced upon them, and they should only speak their mother tongue. 

I completely agree that people in South India (or in any non-Hindi speaking state) must not be compelled to learn or speak Hindi and they should have the freedom. Knowing Hindi would indeed help - especially if you are in transferrable jobs, administrative jobs (IAS), military etc. however, it must not be forced.

But is the story complete? Is it one-sided where only Hindi is being pushed down the throat of people in non-Hindi-speaking states? 

That brings me to the other topic that I want to cover. Education. 

I keep reading about how Indian education system is outdated. We are not promoting practical knowledge and as a result, today's generation is highly unemployable. In today’s day and age, when information is available at the click of a button, we should not compel our children to learn by rote. Instead, the focus should be on topics that would are relevant today and tomorrow. The focus should be on practical knowledge. The focus should also be on life skills.

But what are we doing? In several parts of India (especially the non-Hindi-speaking states), an entire subject is effectively being wasted, which is deeply concerning. Education is extremely expensive, and more importantly, a 'forced' subject could be replaced with something far more useful or better aligned with a child’s interests and aptitudes. 

You may be wondering what am I talking about? Okay, let me take a step back and explain.

Due to the politicization of 'language' (as covered above), several schools in Southern States (and few others. E.g. Maharashtra) are compelling students to learn regional language. For example, I stay in a Southern State and in my daughter's school, she has to learn English, Telugu and pick one between Hindi or Spanish. I could also argue that just like 'Hindi should not be pushed down the throat', regional languages should also not be made mandatory in the respective states. This is politics at the cost of education system and the future of kids.

I acknowledge that it is reasonable for children (native or non-native) within a state to be 'encouraged' to learn the regional language, as language plays an important role in culture, social integration, and local identity. However, concerns arise when such learning is made mandatory rather than encouraged. This issue is further compounded by the reality of frequent inter-state mobility driven by employment for many families.

For example, consider a boy who moves from Delhi to Pune and takes admission in Class 6. He is suddenly required to study Marathi and, understandably, struggles initially. Over time, he manages to cope and even develops some interest. Subsequently, his father takes up a job in Hyderabad, and the child enrolls in Class 7 at a new school. He is then required to study Telugu, and the struggle begins again. What does he ultimately gain? A limited knowledge of Marathi that he is unlikely to retain without continued practice or practical use. I do not even want to take this scenario further where the kid had to move to Delhi in class 8^th or 9^th because - even though it is an imaginary kid - I don't want him to commit suicide in my imagination!!! 

The point is that when each state (or some schools within the state) mandates its regional language as a compulsory subject, children who move often are required to repeatedly start new languages, which can limit continuity and result in only surface-level learning rather than proficiency. It brings me back to my earlier point regarding the broader concern about the relevance of education to future employability. Industry leaders regularly highlight the gap between academic curricula and practical skills. The focus should be on subjects that are relevant today and in the future. Emphasis should be placed on practical knowledge, as well as on the development of essential life skills. 

I hated it when my daughter was compelled to choose between Hindi and Spanish. I want her to know Hindi like people from South India would want their kids to know their mother tongue. At the same time, learning a foreign language is not merely cultural, but a functional/technical skill with clear value in a global economy. Restricting choice by forcing students to choose between Hindi and a foreign language reduces their ability to tailor education to their long-term goals. The impact of such policies is also uneven. For example, students native to a South Indian state can often study English, the regional language, and a foreign language, while students from outside that state must study English, the regional language, and then choose between Hindi and a foreign language. This creates an imbalance in opportunity.

Encouraging regional languages is important but making them compulsory without flexibility does not fully account for modern mobility or the need for choice. Instead, a more balanced approach would promote regional language learning while allowing families the flexibility to decide what best serves their children’s future. Though I am thinking on the go, policymakers and educators can think of giving some benefits or merit points for knowing a regional language that is not your mother tongue. Something like, if a student from Bihar knows Tamil, he/she would get an additional attempt in UPSC or would be considered for a slightly lower cut off or something like that. Some system can always be worked out, and it would definitely be better than the current one. 

In the end, I would only say that India’s linguistic diversity should make us feel proud and not divide us. We should not allow our languages to become a political instrument or a compulsory academic burden as it would only cause both social harmony and education to suffer. Language should function as a bridge, not a barrier created by short-term politics.   

Reading, Rest, and the Elusive Pursuit of Sleep

Sleep has been a long-standing challenge for me. For several years, I survived on barely 3.5 to 5 hours of sleep a day. While I am now averaging a little over five hours—which is a meaningful improvement—I would like to push this to six hours or more in 2026. As expected, this is easier said than done. Old habits, after all, are remarkably persistent. Late nights spent watching podcasts or playing chess have been part of my routine for far too long.

Well-meaning experts around me suggested a familiar remedy: avoid screens after 10 p.m. and replace them with reading. No television, no laptop, no mobile phone—just books.

On paper, this advice suited me perfectly. I have always enjoyed reading, even though I rarely seem to “find the time” for it. I am also, apparently, an unconventional reader. I read four or five books in parallel. Much like music, my reading depends on mood and timing. If I have thirty minutes, I pick up a short story. On some days, it is fiction; on others, military histories or sports biographies and autobiographies. Occasionally, depending on the mood, I turn to Hindi books, which I find easier to read.

Taking this advice seriously, I began reading more in 2026. Today is only the 12th day of the year, and I have already finished three books—one cricketer’s autobiography and two works of fiction—and I am well into my fourth. By any reasonable standard, this feels like a personal victory.

Unfortunately, it is also a problem.

The purpose of reading was not to increase my book count but to help me sleep on time and sleep enough. Instead, I have discovered that books are no less dangerous than screens when they are good. A couple of nights ago, I started reading at 10:30 p.m. and stopped at 5 a.m.—only because my vision became blurry. The night before that, I managed to put the book down at a comparatively respectable 3:30 a.m.

So yes, reading is a good habit. It is just not the solution I was hoping for.

For now, I intend to exercise patience—and, hopefully, discipline. I will continue reading, but with one important constraint: no fiction at night. Good fiction is simply too hard to abandon mid-chapter. Whether this revised strategy succeeds remains to be seen.

The Odd Ritual of Solicited Tributes

In recent years, a curious custom has taken hold: the request for friends, acquaintances, and even near-strangers to create videos, voice notes, or written tributes for milestone celebrations (birthday, kids birthday, anniversary, parents anniversary etc.). The intention is harmless enough—collecting warm sentiments to honour someone’s birthday or anniversary—but the practice carries an awkward side.

Not everyone asked to participate has a meaningful connection with the individual being celebrated. Some may feel indifferent; others may even have a strained history with them. Yet the expectation remains to produce a glowing message filled with affectionate remarks. The result is often a collection of comments that, while polite, lack sincerity. They may sound pleasant, but they are hollow.

This is indeed discussed but in smaller groups and side-conversations, where the prevailing tone is often one of irritation. 

I always wonder: what value is found in hearing praise that was crafted out of obligation? If the words are not genuine, the exercise becomes less a celebration of a relationship and more a performance designed to fill a montage.

Perhaps the more thoughtful approach is to encourage contributions only from those who share real bonds with the honouree. Authentic sentiment, even when modest, far outweighs elaborate statements offered out of social pressure. Meaningful occasions deserve meaningful voices—not rehearsed lines delivered due to an obligation.

Mid-Life Crisis

When I was in my thirties, I’d often hear about this infamous ‘mid-life crisis’ that supposedly grips men like a sudden monsoon storm. The stories painted vivid pictures of otherwise rational men behaving ‘abnormally’—buying fancy motorbikes, setting off on unplanned adventures, or running marathons for reasons only they understood. I used to smugly think I’d be different. Rational. Immune.

Fast forward to today, I’m in my mid-forties, and so are my friends. And let me tell you, mid-life crisis is real. It’s here, and it’s hilarious. 

Let me introduce you to Exhibit A: my good friend Vikash Kumar Singh. (name not changed because... to hell with confidentiality).

Vikash and I go way back. I first met him on my very first day of college in 1997. Having just arrived straight from a cantonment, I was as lost and clueless as a freshman could be. My entire perception of college was based on what I'd seen in movies, and naturally, I was terrified of ragging. As luck would have it, the notice board announced that the start of the session had been postponed by couple of weeks. While relieved, I wanted to confirm this critical piece of information, but the question was—who to ask? The last thing I wanted was to mistakenly tap a senior and land myself in an impromptu ragging session. And then, I spotted him. A short guy, standing there intently reading the notice board. He looked harmless enough, and I figured even if he was a senior, he wouldn't be the ragging type. So, I tapped him on the shoulder and asked about the session. 

He turned around, and to my utter shock, the guy had a full-grown mustache! In my head, only professors and uncles had mustaches of that magnitude. He confirmed the news, and we got talking.

That was the beginning of a friendship that would see us through college as classmates, MBA as batchmates and flatmates, a stint at one of the Big 4s as colleagues, and of course, countless drinking sessions over the years. Vikash has always been the kind of guy who’d say yes to a drink, no matter the time, place, or occasion.

Now, out of nowhere, Vikash Kumar Singh has suddenly become a marathon runner!! Yes, he still says yes to drinks and is still the eternal 'Cheers' guy but now he has become the guy who’d rather run 10 kilometers than a whole night drinking session. A recently saw him saying no to a chilled beer on a Sunday afternoon. If that is not mid-life crisis, do not know what is!!!

The second example? Yours truly. But hey, I’m still in the planning stage and haven’t started doing anything too crazy—yet. I recently turned 45, and a few of my resolutions for this year include (a) no alcohol in 2025 and (b) at least one weekend holiday each month! We haven’t even crossed the first month of the year, and we’ve already done a weekend stay at a resort. Next week, I’ll be driving down to a small town 200 kilometers away for a weekend trip with… Vikash Kumar Singh! Next month, I’m heading to my hometown for a longer break. And at the end of that month, I’ve planned a weekend trip to a tourist attraction about 450 kilometers away. For the following month (i.e., March), I am already planning a trip to a hill station. So far, these are only plans but as I said, I’m still in the early stages of this mid-life crisis disease!

The third example is a little complicated. I used to know this person quite well. My observation is that he has always been fascinated by the relationships others have, and somewhere deep down, he feels he has never truly experienced that. He carries a fairytale-like image of relationships and love—one that, unfortunately, doesn’t align with reality. The truth is, there is no such thing as a perfect relationship. Every couple has their own set of challenges—some work through them, while others part ways.

Lately, this person, now in his late forties, has been convincing himself and those around him that he has never had a meaningful relationship. He genuinely believes it. And suddenly, he has embarked on a desperate search for new relationships. This, too, is a common symptom of mid-life crisis, but in his case, it’s manifesting in a more concerning way. He is losing his sense of identity, the respect of those around him, and, perhaps most worryingly, his own self-respect. I no longer know him well, but I sincerely hope he finds his way back. His support system has been doing their best, but so far, without much success. I just hope his mid-life crisis doesn’t turn into a long-term crisis.

That’s mid-life crisis for you. It doesn’t knock. It barges in, rearranges your priorities, and makes you do things you never thought you would. While most choose harmless hobbies/passions like bikes or trips, some choose the path of sheer stupidity.

Agneepath Scheme: Right Intent, Right Idea, Poor Positioning

 For leaders and policymakers, developing good ideas is essential, but effectively marketing and positioning those ideas is even more critical. Every idea has limitations, and it is vital to understand what to communicate and emphasize. Proper communication and marketing ensure awareness, engagement, and adoption by clearly conveying the benefits, building trust, and differentiating ideas in a crowded landscape. Effective positioning highlights the unique advantages and relevance, ensuring the idea resonates with the intended audience.

The ruling party in India, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), is reasonably good at generating sound ideas. Many of their schemes, policies, and initiatives demonstrate vision and good intent. However, these ideas often face rejection or public backlash due to inadequate communication, marketing, or positioning. For example, the Farm Bill introduced in 2020 aimed to benefit farmers by increasing their earnings. Nevertheless, the lack of clarity and effective marketing allowed opposition and vested interests to incite massive protests, ultimately resulting in the bill's rollback.

Another example, a hot topic, is the Agneepath Scheme, which in a nutshell is a recruitment scheme for the Indian Armed Forces. It involves recruiting young people, called Agniveers, for a four-year tenure. After this period, a portion of Agniveers may be offered permanent commission, while others will leave with a severance package and skills training. The scheme aims to reduce the average age of the armed forces and provide youth with disciplined training and experience.

The Agneepath scheme has several drivers and benefits. It aims to create a younger and fitter force, as a youthful workforce brings more physical agility and adaptability. Enhancing the Indian Armed Forces' youthful profile ensures maximum risk-taking and effectiveness in battle. The scheme also focuses on skill development, with Agniveers gaining discipline, teamwork, and technical skills. Additionally, reducing the average age of soldiers significantly lowers the pension burden. Agniveers not retained after their service will benefit from practical military experience, discipline, and skills, along with a financial cushion of Rs 12 lakhs to start businesses or further their education. This scheme presents a unique opportunity for young people to serve their country and support nation-building, creating an energetic profile for the armed forces.

However, the scheme has some implementation issues and limitations. It would have benefited from a smaller-scale pilot before full implementation. Moreover, the current form is more suitable for the Army and less for the Navy and Air Force, where longer training durations are required. Concerns about job security and the impact on military ethos also arise, as a shorter service period might hinder the development of a strong military culture and camaraderie. While the scheme has its pros and cons, analysis and discussions with military personnel and experts suggest it is indeed a step in the right direction. It is a 'work-in-progress' and not a finished product yet. There is significant scope for improvement, which the central government acknowledges and is open to addressing. Various state governments are also introducing related schemes to help Agniveers find suitable employment opportunities after their service.

The focus here is not to debate the efficacy, implementation, or limitations of the Agneepath scheme but to discuss whether the scheme was properly marketed and positioned. I feel that the scheme could have been positioned differently and effectively.

India is grappling with a significant unemployment crisis, with the youth unemployment rate being alarming. According to the latest data from the Centre for Monitoring Indian Economy (CMIE), an independent think tank, the unemployment rate in India stood at 9.2 percent in June 2024, a sharp increase from 7 percent in May 2024. This issue necessitates focused government interventions, skill development initiatives, and job creation to address the pressing challenge of unemployment. The issue of unemployment is being heavily discussed in parliament, public forums, social media, living rooms and is a key grievance against the current government.

On a separate note, I believe that the current government did not create the issue of unemployment; rather, it is the result of decades of negligence and a lack of vision and initiatives. Unemployment is more of a ‘by-product’ stemming from challenges such as uncontrolled population growth, high illiteracy, and a significantly inadequate education system at the grassroots level. While there are thousands of public and private schools, are we really preparing our children for the current and future requirements? The answer is a big no. Companies hire and then invest considerable time, resources, and effort in training new hires because they are often not sufficiently prepared to hit the ground running. A young individual with a degree but inadequate skills lacks employability.

While the current government inherited the unemployment problem, it is accountable for addressing it. It is another point that they are also not doing much to solve the root causes of the unemployment issue, so it serves them right!!

The Agneepath scheme, amid this backdrop, could have been positioned as a powerful tool for job creation. Instead of focusing on cost-cutting and demographic changes within the armed forces, the scheme should have been primarily positioned as an employment scheme with relaxed selection criteria, guaranteed employment for four years, along with a monetary benefit at the end and potential for future re-employment. That’s it. Plain, simple and effective. It would have resonated strongly with the target audience. This approach would have aligned with the nation's pressing need for job creation and could have mitigated some of the initial public resistance. Proper positioning of government initiatives is crucial in addressing complex societal challenges like unemployment.

Hopefully, some lessons have been learnt by the government and the bosses and in future, they would ‘read the room’!!

The Myth of Hindu Unity

In the grand tapestry of Bharat's socio-political landscape, one of the most enduring myths is that Hindus form a cohesive majority. Official statistics may indicate that around 80% of Bharat’s population identifies as Hindu, but beneath this numerical facade lies a complex web of divisions that belies this apparent unity. The notion of a monolithic Hindu identity often seems more like a political construct than a reflection of the country’s true socio-cultural fabric.

When we examine the internal dynamics of Bharat, the picture is far from unified. We are fragmented by numerous factors: geographical regions, ideological differences, economic disparities, caste, creed, and even fan loyalties. The nation's divisions are so pronounced that it is almost a given that we will find reasons to stay apart—whether by region (North versus South), political orientation (right wing versus left wing), or caste.

The historical narrative that Bharat remained a Hindu-majority country despite centuries of invasions and colonial rule often overlooks a critical issue: our internal disunity made us vulnerable. Additionally, while Hindu theology identifies kama (Desire/Lust), krodha (Anger), lobha (Greed), mada (Ego), moha (Attachment), matsarya (Jealousy), and alasya (Laziness) as key mental obstacles, many of us do not genuinely work to overcome these challenges in our daily lives. These factors highlight why we were subjected to rule by invaders (like the Mughals and British) and dynasts (such as the Indian National Congress) for so many centuries.

We take pride in the fact that, unlike many other countries that were religiously converted by invaders, Bharat remained a Hindu-majority nation. Statistically and on paper, this is accurate. However, what if the invaders did not exert significant effort to convert us? What if they considered us worse off remaining Hindus, or if they did not want their faith to be corrupted by our mindset?

Consider this: if Hindus were genuinely united, no one could have mocked us. No one could have taken things away from our plate in the name of appeasement. No one could have jeopardized Bharat’s medium to long term growth potential by playing vote bank politics. I am not at all suggesting that we should have been like a militant outfit and troubled others. Bullying others just because of the strength of numbers is cowardly. Saving cows is great, making Muslim drivers eat cow dung is not. Just a strength in character would deter people to not take us for granted.

Our divisions are laid bare during elections and in various other arenas, revealing a society where allegiance to caste and regional identity often outweighs national cohesion. The recent Lok Sabha elections offer a telling example. The ruling party, various other blunders aide, lost several seats due to the pervasive influence of caste-based voting. In certain constituencies, candidates were chosen based on caste affiliations rather than merit or party allegiance. It is actually good to not consider the religion while deciding who to vote for but then the consideration should be national interests, economic growth, integrity and not caste or freebies. This fractured approach to voting diminishes any party’s ability to implement substantial change.

In Bharat, the political and social landscapes are often shaped by fragmented vote banks such as Jats, Yadavs, and Bhumihaars. This fragmentation hampers the possibility of a unified and effective Hindu vote. In contrast, similar unity among other communities results in a more consolidated and influential political force. For instance, while Shia or Sunni vote banks may exist, they typically come into play only when the competition is between Muslim candidates.

Take the example of Rampur, Uttar Pradesh. Despite the BJP's reputation for Hindu-centric policies, the party allocated numerous houses under the Pradhan Mantri Awas Yojana to residents of Rampur, which has a significant Islamic population. However, the BJP faced a significant defeat in this constituency. Why? Because, unlike the fragmented Hindu vote, the Muslim voters in Rampur were largely unified. While this unity helped them defeat the so-called 'Hindu party,' it came at a cost. Leaders who engage in vote bank politics rarely serve their constituents' best interests. Their aim is to keep people divided and perpetually dependent.

By failing to stay united and prioritizing caste-based interests and freebies over national and economic growth, we perpetuate a cycle of poverty and political myopia. Consequently, we later find ourselves lamenting issues such as unemployment, rising prices, and the loss of job opportunities, academic seats etc. Let us not play victim in a situation that we have created for ourselves.

World needs Kamblis too

Talent and divine gifts, while remarkable, require more to flourish. They demand relentless hard work and immaculate discipline, alongside a sprinkle of luck. Without these, even the most gifted individuals risk fading into obscurity, akin to Vinod Kambli rather than Sachin Tendulkar.

Yet, the world needs its Kambli's too, as they underscore the exceptionalism of Tendulkar. They serve as reminders that talent alone is not enough; it must be nurtured, honed through hard work, and coupled with discipline. Luck, though unpredictable, can tip the scales. Together, this blend forms a potent recipe for success, showcasing that true greatness is not just about talent, but the dedicated pursuit of excellence.

Navigating the Ups and Downs of Relationships in the Modern Era

Let's talk about something that's been on my mind lately: relationships. Have you noticed how it feels like separation and divorce are almost trendy nowadays? It seems like everywhere I look, there's another couple hitting rocky waters or calling it quits altogether. It's got me wondering, have relationships lost their depth and understanding compared to our parents' and grandparents' generations?

I mean, let's get real here. Did our folks and their folks not have their fair share of issues? Of course, they did! Every couple has their highs and lows, and every individual comes with their own mix of amazing qualities and not-so-great ones. Even those couples we envy for their seemingly perfect happiness? Scratch beneath the surface, and you'll find they've got their own set of issues too. But here's the kicker: some couples tough it out, while others are quick to call it quits.

Now, divorces and separations are on the rise, and there's a laundry list of reasons why: incompatibility, miscommunication, infidelity, addictions, domestic abuse, family drama—you name it. But here's the thing: these big-ticket problems are often just the flashy symptoms, not the real root of the problem.

So what's the real kicker? Miscommunication. Yep, it's the biggie. In a world where egos often run the show, truly understanding each other can feel like an uphill battle. But here's the silver lining: most issues can be smoothed out with some good old transparent, heart-to-heart talks. It's all about putting yourself in the other person's shoes, ya know?

Of course, I'm not saying every relationship can be saved. Sometimes, priorities clash so hard that there's just no common ground to stand on. That's the real deal of incompatibility right there.

So, what's the takeaway from all this rambling? Well, maybe it's time we all put a little more effort into listening and understanding each other. After all, a little empathy can go a long way in keeping those flames of love burning bright.