In my Quiet

Look around you today. Everyone is running. Students are running towards marks. Young men and women are running towards promotions, salaries, designations and LinkedIn connections. There is nothing wrong with ambition. It is good. It is necessary. But somewhere in all this running, we have quietly dropped something precious, something we did not even notice we had lost. We dropped the simple idea that a full life includes more than a full inbox. That a rich life is not just a financially rich life. That the greatest moments a human being can experience are not in a boardroom, rather they are in a kitchen, a courtyard, a cradle. And this is exactly what a very old, very beautiful story has been trying to tell us for thousands of years. The Bhagwat Purana, particularly the tenth chapter is the story of Krishna's childhood. And what a childhood it is. It is not a tale of gods and thunder and battles in the sky. It is something far more powerful. It is the story of a little boy who ste...

We're wounded. All of us, in some way. We carry these invisible injuries that don't show up on ultrasounds but still ache when the pressure is just right. Someone hurt us. Maybe recently. Maybe years ago. Maybe it's still happening. But we don't have to live there, in that wound, forever. Pain isn't our enemy, even though it feels that way. It's a messenger knocking at the door, urgent and insistent, trying to deliver something important. The question isn't whether we're in pain, we already know we are. The question is: have we got the message yet? What is the pain trying to tell us? That we matter and someone treated us like we don't. That we have boundaries and someone crossed them. That we deserve gentleness and someone gave us cruelty instead. That we need safety and someone made us feel afraid. We need to listen to it. Not forever. Just long enough to understand what it's saying. Then let it pass. Let it move through us like weather, like se...

In educational institutions, celebrations and events are an important part of student life. They provide opportunities for creativity, social bonding and joy. Yet there is always a balance to be struck between fun and maintaining the values that give an institution its character. How do teachers ensure that celebrations are lively and enjoyable without crossing the line into indecent or disrespectful territory? Being a cultural guardian is about helping students navigate that balance. It is not about discouraging enjoyment or creativity. Rather, it is about fostering an environment where joy, expression and engagement coexist with respect, dignity and thoughtfulness. Guardianship is the quiet work of preserving an atmosphere in which students can grow socially, ethically and intellectually. There are teachers who, when asked to exercise caution, may respond with enthusiasm rather than restraint. When the institutional head suggests that college parties maintain a sense of dignity, it m...

There is something about Dwarka that words can never quite capture. The first glimpse of the temple rising above the restless Arabian Sea feels like a conversation between time and eternity. The air itself carries a strange stillness. Salt, incense, and something invisible that touches you before you realize it. Standing there, I felt as if Krishna’s presence was not a memory of mythology but a living vibration that hummed in the wind and waves. The word "manthan", the churning has always fascinated me. We usually hear it in stories of gods and oceans, of poison and nectar, but that day, I understood that the real churning happens within us. As I stood by the sea, something deep inside began to stir. Every sound of the conch, every rhythm of the waves seemed to turn an invisible wheel within me. It wasn’t comfortable; it was unsettling, like being stripped of all pretense. I couldn’t tell if I was breaking apart or coming together. Perhaps both. Perhaps that’s what awakening ...

"If you can’t control the winds, adjust your sails." This simple truth finds its most powerful expression in Krishna’s decision to move his people from Mathura to Dwarka, one of the most remarkable acts of wisdom in our epics. After slaying Kans, Krishna could have ruled Mathura in peace. But destiny had other plans. Jarasandh, father-in-law of Kans, became his relentless enemy, attacking Mathura again and again, seventeen times in all. Each battle brought loss, destruction, and fear among the Yadavas. Most rulers would have stood their ground, refusing to move an inch. Pride would demand resistance, to fight until nothing remained. But Krishna saw beyond pride. He realized that true strength lies not in stubbornly holding one’s ground, but in knowing when to step aside and begin anew. His decision to leave Mathura was not surrender , rather, it was vision. He understood that leadership is not about ego, but about protection and renewal. War had drained his people. Peace had ...

When we read Hamlet, we often notice how much time the prince spends delaying action. For centuries, this has been called procrastination, even weakness. But if we look more closely, his hesitation is not simply fear. It is a form of intelligence. Hamlet lives in a world where appearances deceive, where trust is fragile, and where rushing into action could be more dangerous than waiting.   From the very beginning, Hamlet chooses not to act blindly. Instead, he observes, questions, and tests the truth of what he has been told. His decision to stage a play in order to study Claudius’s reaction is a striking example. Rather than being carried away by emotion, he pauses to confirm what lies beneath the surface. What looks like delay is actually careful attention to detail, a refusal to be manipulated by appearances.   Even when he finds Claudius alone and seemingly vulnerable, Hamlet does not strike. He reasons that killing him in that moment would not bring justice. Thi...