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

Loneliness is not merely the absence of people; it is the absence of receptive presence. The lonely person indeed looks for someone to share feelings with. But the paradox is this: one can have many listeners and still be lonely, and one can have very few and feel held. That is where adda becomes important. The adda joint was never just a physical space; it was a psychological refuge. It allowed emotions to spill without demanding resolution. Home, often demands roles, wherea

People who share their feelings with everyone are often labelled as lonely, but that may be a simplification. Loneliness is not merely the absence of people; it is the absence of receptive presence. Some speak a lot because they have no one who listens deeply; others speak because they have learned that articulation itself is a form of companionship. Sharing is a habit of thinking in the open. The lonely person indeed looks for someone to share feelings with, but the paradox

A classroom is one of the few spaces where mistakes are not moral failures but learning events. Where listening matters as much as speaking. In a classroom, we rehearse patience, humility, empathy, and dignity. It is a space that teaches how to accept guidance without surrendering autonomy. Some classrooms matter even when syllabi become obsolete. The content may age but the practice of being together does not.

The longer one stays in the laboratory, the more committed to research one is assumed to be. Some believe enjoyment and rigour are opposites. This confusion arises when effort is mistaken for insight, endurance for originality, and conformity for discipline. Things are changing. Workplaces are becoming more diverse, and it is increasingly evident that those who were good at something beyond their formal training adapt better. The ability to shift perspectives has become a pro

Mornings are my lifelines. Through this lifeline, I feel like connecting. I feel like sharing. My mornings begin a little late. I have seldom seen the rising sun. Yet whenever I wake, I feel a new day waiting for me. It tells me that time is a companion, not a clock. A clock divides life into units and expects each unit to justify itself. When time is a companion, it walks beside me. It understands pauses. It allows detours and moments of stillness. In my morning hours, time

I visited Kolkata for the first time in 1961. I came with my Didima. Kolkata, for me then, was cinema and natok. It was Rabindranath’s birth centenary year. I watched Teen Kanya and Tripti Mitra’s Setu. We stayed with one of our maternal uncles. Our house stood next to Dilip Mukherjee’s. He looked like an ordinary neighbour, not a film star at all. His ordinariness stayed with me longer than his films. That was also the only time I saw a Bengal village with pukur, aam and jam

Live music is the music that never dies. Some songs grow older, and yet remain forever young. Let me go back to my school days. When I passed High School, my grandmother gifted me a Roamer watch. She also decided to buy for the family a record player. My elder brother (my eldest maternal uncle’s son, and incidentally a good singer) and I were entrusted with the responsibility of procuring it. There were not many HMV stores then. There were not many models either. We chose one

The first course I was assigned to teach was Mass and Energy Balance for second-year chemical engineering students. This reminded me of an incident that happened years ago. After completing my MTech, I appeared for an interview at a prestigious research organization. It was the best interview I ever faced. There were many candidates, yet there was no chaos. I was calmly told which room to go to. The committee consisted of five members. After the usual formalities, one of the

My first job had a dramatic beginning and an equally dramatic end. I was doing my PhD. Two and a half years had passed, and I felt I would not be able to complete it. My confidence was low, though there was no real reason for it. My progress was good, and I already had material ready for publication. Around that time, I got a job offer that was far below my academic background. Still, I accepted it. As a first job, it was extremely challenging. I was entrusted, along with a f

The first batch of the Five-Year Integrated M.Tech in Biochemical Engineering and Biotechnology at IIT Delhi was special. The programme was new—conceived by Prof. Tarun K. Ghose. We ran it with hope more than certainty. Students joined without knowing what the future held. There were no precedents, no guarantees. Yet, perhaps because of that very uncertainty, we received some of the most committed students. They took it upon themselves to make the programme a success. The fac

Today, the familiar script of education is being questioned. More young people want to skip college and go straight to the job. This shift is the result of several tectonic forces reshaping the landscape of work and learning. Higher education has become for many a tunnel of debt. They ask: Is it sensible to borrow heavily for a degree when the job market no longer rewards it proportionately? The skill-first economy has arrived. Degrees are no longer passports; skills are. Man

Destiny, perhaps, is desire directed by the environment. Our surroundings shape the trajectories of our wants. In the intersection of what we hope for and what the world allows us to imagine, our path quietly emerges. Reason, however, cannot open every door. One may examine every possibility, take every careful step, and still arrive at a place never intended. Destiny enters through the doors we believed we had firmly sealed with reason. And when the doors of reason finally s

This morning I thought of one of Raj Kapoor’s films, Jagte Raho. We move through life much like the wanderer in that film: not seeking a destination, but seeking a justification for our movement. What we desire is rarely clear; what pushes us forward is often only the discomfort of standing still. From one door to the next, from one promise to another, we hope that the next encounter will validate our existence, that someone will recognise us without suspicion. Yet every thre