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The Day My Grandmother Was Everywhere

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Today, during my weekly visit to Lord Hanuman, I came across a very old woman, her spine bent with age, her body carrying the unmistakable weight of time. Each step she took felt deliberate, as if the years themselves were guiding her forward. There was a quiet dignity in the way she stood there, fragile yet unwavering, as though life had folded her body but not her spirit. She was trying to climb a short flight of stairs, yet her body refused to obey her will. Each step stood before her like a quiet challenge, and she paused, caught between desire and limitation, gathering courage from somewhere deeper than strength. It wasn’t defeat that slowed her, but the long conversation between age and gravity, where every movement demanded patience, grace, and silent resolve. I reached for her hand  I held it like the way I once held my grandmother’s, instinctively, gently, as if my palm already knew the language. In that moment, the idea of this blog was born, not as a thought, but as a fe...
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What a Monk Taught Me Without Teaching

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Some days, when the world’s chaos spills past its edges, I slip away to a quiet corner, not to escape life, but to meet my solitude, waiting patiently for me. In one such quiet today, during my solitary time, I met a monk sitting right in front of me, unannounced and still, wrapped in a saffron robe. Time seemed to have healed him gently; his long white beard flowed freely, his white hair tied loosely atop his head, as though the years had learned how to rest upon him. In his presence, time did not move forward or backward, it simply paused, holding its breath. Sometimes we all need guidance and since the chaos was too much for me to handle, I went in conversation with him, among lot of things discussed I asked him "Prabhu what is Detachment, loss or freedom". He smiled, not the kind that teaches but the kind that knows. He stood up and gently dusted his Robe, the dust fell away.  Then he said,  “See this? It came without effort.  When it leaves, I don’t follow it. ...
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Demystifying AI: What Leaders, Engineers, and First-Time Users All Need to Understand

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  AI has a bit of an image problem. Some leaders see it as a silver bullet. Some engineers feel it’s overhyped and poorly defined. Many first-time users find it intimidating, almost mystical.  Non-AI people want to jump on the wagon wheel to do "something/anything" in AI All of those reactions miss the mark. AI isn’t magic. And it isn’t the future showing up overnight. AI is just a tool. A powerful one, but like any tool, what it delivers depends entirely on how thoughtfully it’s used. The Anxiety Beneath the Hype  Let’s be honest about what’s really driving the rush. Leaders worry: Are we falling behind? Engineers worry: Are expectations even realistic? Everyone else wonders: Will this make me irrelevant? So organizations jump into pilots, dashboards, and proof-of-concepts. And then… nothing really sticks.  Not because AI failed, but because clarity did. AI doesn’t usually fail quietly. It fails loudly and expensively when the problem itself isn’t...
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The Evolution of a Techno Body: From Hunting to Mobile (and the Rise of the Thumb)

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The Evolution of a Techno Body: From Hunting to Mobile (and the Rise of the Thumb) The human body has always evolved with its tools. But no body part tells this story more clearly than the   thumb . Quiet, opposable, and underestimated,  the thumb has gone from shaping survival… to shaping civilization. The Thumb: The Original Technology Long before machines, the thumb was our first breakthrough. It enabled grip. Then precision. Then creation. Stone tools. Fire. Spears. Needles. Writing. All of it begins with the thumb opposing the fingers. Anthropologists often say:   we didn’t just develop tools because we were intelligent, our intelligence evolved because we had thumbs. The Hunting Body: Thumb as Survival In early humans, the thumb was about   power and control . Gripping weapons Striking flint Skinning animals Throwing with accuracy A weak thumb meant poor hunting. Poor hunting meant death. Skill lived in the hand. Memory lived in muscle. The Mahabharata: When th...
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Where Are the Books We Read & What Are We Reading Now?

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I was reading my Daughter's, Class-7 Hindi Literature book, and it struck me that something has quietly collapsed in our education system. Not buildings. Not technology. But   books . The books that once shaped thinking, conscience, and character have been reduced to tools for passing exams. What students read today is no longer literature, it is   content . Safe, diluted, and forgettable. From Literature to Low Risk Text Earlier, school books carried stories that were uncomfortable. They showed hunger, inequality, moral conflict, and social truth. Stories like  Writers like Premchand did not protect the reader from reality. They forced you to look at it.  Authors like Munshi Premchand, Poets Suryakant Tripathi, Mahadevi Verma, Mathili Sharan Gupt, Banmkim Chandra Chatterjee,  defined hindi literature with realism, social commentary and lyrical depth. Influencing generations through Poetry and Stories Today’s textbooks avoid discomfort at all costs. Characters a...
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What Burnt at the Library of Nalanda University

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This article is a researched piece, drawing from multiple publicly available sources on the internet. I have not put forward any original ideas or personal viewpoints here. When people say   “Nalanda was burnt,”   they often imagine a tragic but vague loss, an ancient library reduced to ashes. Source: Google Images The reality is far more devastating, far more specific, and far more important to understand. What burnt at Nalanda was not just a building.  What burnt was   humanity’s accumulated intelligence of nearly a thousand years .
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One Question

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You Could Ask God or the Universe, One Question,  Imagine this. You’re standing in front of a doorway, not glowing, not dramatic, nothing like the movie shows, just quietly powerful. The kind of doorway where you know someone on the other side sees you completely. Your past, your mistakes, your unopened potential,your secrets, your pain. your heart in all its tangled contradictions. And you’re told you can ask one question. Just one. With a direct answer. Crystal clear.No riddles.No poetic dodge.No “look within” lecture. A straight, divine reply. the kind that could rearrange your entire life in a heartbeat Now pause and think, I am sure you have never thought about one question.  Whats would you ask the supreme.  “What is my purpose?” The universal hunger, to know why we’re here, why we matter, what thread we’re meant to pull in the vast weave of existence. “Why was I born?” Not the biology.The reason.The meaning behind arrival. “Why am I the way I am?” "Why this tempera...
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