A republic means that the state is not the private property of a ruler, a dynasty, or a family. It belongs to its citizens. A group, too, carries a similar connotation. Membership does not demand confinement to one’s immediate wants or needs. Beyond these boundaries lies an unlimited world. Once upon a time, I taught at an elite institute. Every year, we organised a cricket match that included students, support staff, and teachers alike. It was joyous, noisy, imperfect, yet d

We are entering an age where those who want to live a simple life may find it a little harder. In agriculture, when growing enough on the surface is no longer viable, humanity may turn underground. Subterranean cultivation—layered soils, artificial sunlight, controlled climates—could redefine farming itself. Here, a tension emerges between the simplicity of traditional agriculture and the precision of hyper-technological methods. Survival may demand complexity, yet the desire

The first sixty minutes after waking are important for my day. This unguarded hour is important for me. In this hour, the mind has not begun to defend itself, justify itself, or perform for the world. In this state, thoughts are closer to instincts than opinions. The mind works best when it is so relaxed that it forgets to expect. In that state, thought becomes playful rather than anxious; insight arrives uninvited. We must respect this hour. Try not to surrender this hour to

Rabindranath Tagore’s music—Rabindra Sangeet—is universal. It touches what is common to human experience. Tagore’s songs speak of love, longing, devotion, separation, freedom, nature, and death, emotions that precede language and geography. The mood of a song carries meaning. His music resonate across spiritual traditions without being confined to one theology. His fusion music is not for novelty but for harmony through understanding. Tagore's nature is a living participant.

A bright, independent candidate from my hometown once dared to defy the odds. He entered politics armed with conviction and clarity, driven not by the hunger to rule, but by a desire to serve. My family, like many others, saw in him a rare honesty and stood by him. In the beginning, he stood firm, unyielding before coercion, corruption, and compromise. But politics has its own appetite. The cost of remaining independent was steep; financially, socially, emotionally. Slowly, t

Soumitrada was a ‘Gaach’. He was not extravagant. Subtlety was his forte. His humour was subtle. His art was subtle. His poetry was subtle. He loved to hear. He did not interrupt anyone in the middle. A cricket enthusiast, he thought geniuses like Bradman live forever in the minds of people. He was Bradman of the Bengali film fraternity. He liked technical perfection in films, but not at the cost of vitality and life force. He was well-read. Mahabharata was his constant compa

These days grandparents don’t retire. E-entertainment has taken the place of storytelling. Roger Schank presents an interesting future scenario: The storyteller will be your computer. Computers will have built-in capability of understanding your needs, identifying the storyteller from the existing archive, and then delivering the story to you. I wish that both the grandchildren and grandparents will find time to communicate with each other. I hope the never-retiring grandpare

A library is a place where nothing is surplus. A place where needs are met and wants are encouraged. A place with no depreciation, only appreciation. My library offers space, relationships, trust, understanding, and opportunity. It speaks to the whole person, not just the intellect. Writing has become my way of staying attentive to the world and to myself. When I don't write, something feels incomplete, not because I must produce, but because writing is how I think, pause, an

Often, we hear that degrees are not required for the jobs people do. May be this is true. A degree is a certificate; education is a process. Formal credentials may not be necessary, but competence is. Education is learning to observe and revise one’s understanding. When people dismiss degrees, they reject certification, not the learning. Common sense cannot emerge in the absence of learning. Common sense is built through accumulated experience. It does not arise spontaneousl

Bhojon-rosik Bengali can travel any distance for a good meal. 'Bhojon-rosik' is a defining Bengali identity. Budhadev Bose described it most generously, “Bengali food is a product of the home and family ties, of personal relationships — as much of science as of human affection, as much of age-old wisdom as of an intuitive response to Nature.” He then added a delicious detail: “If there is an orthodox widow in the family, you must—absolutely must—beg her to give you a taste o

I will go back to 1961. We did not have a radio at our place. I would go to our next-door neighbour’s house, particularly on Wednesdays at 8 p.m. It was the day of Binaca Geetmala. I loved all the songs. I knew more about filmi gaane than what was written in my books. Bharat felt vivid; I came to know the country through these songs. Let me say with a pinch of salt, Ameen Sayani was more popular than the singers, or the lyricists, or even the music directors. Radio—one never

A calculated mind measures before it moves, estimates before it trusts. Spontaneity yields to foresight, intuition learns to justify itself. Clarity replaces chaos. Innocence is traded for control. One begins to see patterns in numbers, probabilities in people, risks in emotions, and limits in hope. When overlearned, distance elongates between knowing and living. Mathematics of learning shapes a mind precise and powerful. But when calculation replaces trust, life turns into a

Cinema is an art of convergence. Within it live many art forms, each indispensable, each incomplete without the others. The Art of Seeing inherits the eye of the painter. Light, shadow, colour, framing, and depth become moving canvases. The camera magnifies presence; it punishes falsehood. Yet another component of this art is the eye of the spectator, for seeing is always a shared act. The Art of Language tells stories in a moving tongue, through dialogue, music, silence, and

When one grows old, age assumes a different meaning. Bertrand Russell writes, “An individual human existence should be like a river—small at first, narrowly contained within its banks, and rushing passionately past rocks and over waterfalls. Gradually the river grows wider, the banks recede, the waters flow more quietly, and in the end, without any visible break, they become merged in the sea, and painlessly lose their individual being.” In the early years, our concerns are l

We reached Coorg late in the evening. Serene environments often come nestled within relatively unspoiled nature. A young girl from Kerala received us warmly. We were given one of the better rooms, surrounded by greenery. The rain didn’t matter. We shared a warm dinner with one of my son’s friends and his family. They live deep in the jungle, in the midst of a coffee plantation, where elephants outnumber humans, and they love it that way. The next morning arrived with light ra

How a film can have so much appeal? I can’t remember how many times I have seen Sonar Kella (the golden fortress), especially after moving to Jaipur. Is it because Sonar Kella is in Jaisalmer, Jaisalmer is in Rajasthan, and I have been living in Jaipur for the past 3 decades? The movie is about the adventures of a seven-year-old boy. The boy can remember his past life and that worries his parents. The boy presumably lived in Rajasthan hundreds of years ago. He talks about a g

A beautiful mind is like a flower, sprouting in the cracks of life, to beautify the stony existence. It gels well with other minds. It reaches the point where differences lose significance, where possible is compatibility. It can observe life dispassionately, and can balance the swinging pendulum of life beautifully. A beautiful mind knows, but doesn’t display. It is not burdened by knowledge, envisions the visible, and perceives the invisible. It values relationships that do

I am still Knowing the Known. Much of what I write is an attempt to understand me. Few of my books include: Knowing the Known (2008) The collection of essays explores the author as an explorer of the depths of his self and as an interpreter of the fabric of his experiences. Ethics of the Chair (2015) The book highlights the truths that have guided the author in his professional journey. It includes: Don’t always approach science with the lens of a money lender, and respect th

You gave me something I did not know I was seeking: time to look at my other side. I loved films, and somewhere within me lived a quiet wish to be a filmmaker. You did not fulfil that wish, instead, you made me a writer. What cinema might have taught me through images and movement, you taught me through stillness and reflection. Living here, I encountered primary education from close quarters, not as an abstraction, but as lived reality. When resources are scarce, intention

A retired government officer once said that his son, who studied at exclusive institutions and is now a senior executive in a multinational, resents his middle-class attitude. The father thinks that his son has come up the hard way and deserves the position he holds but he can’t understand his son’s resentment of the middle class. The son occasionally visits the city where his parents live but prefers to stay in a five-star property. He invites his parents as well as his acqu