Visualize a large fort ringed by several hundred soldiers, feverishly digging trenches around high security walls, to safeguard a nervous king increasingly wary of every external sound and commotion. The scene clearly gives the impression of a Crown lacking in valiance, desperate to be rescued from his predicament. 

The conduct of today’s communities towards multiplicity of gods, couched in dogmatics and steeped in ritualistic monotony, would remind us of the fortified king’s unenvious situation. The so-called almighty figure cast in stone, it would appear, is heavily dependent on hype arising from legions of frenzied humans vying to offer reverence and protection. Intimidating the skeptics and nonbelievers with blasphemy laws and threats to life, proselytising the pliant and credulous with horror visions of hellfire and dreams of an afterlife in paradise teeming with all conceivable pleasures. In effect, the exercise is as fatuous as holding an umbrella, made of highly combustible material, over a raging fire. If the supreme energy is the infinite power and ultimate truth pervading the universe, or multiverses if you will, is there a need for petty humans to boost it with hype and hoopla, worship and safeguarding? Why are the huge mass of people desperately toiling and moiling on such irrational endeavours? 

The answer to it lies in the existential crisis surrounding today’s humans. In trying to protect gods, we are aiming to protect not gods, but our own crumbling edifice of worldly securities. It is mainly visible in the way we connect with science. Historically, gaps, created by mysteries of life unexplained by science, were filled in by gods. Thunder, lightning, quakes, tsunamis, diseases and other natural disasters were all attributed to acts of god. The encircling darkness of human ignorance generated by these phenomena faded in the blazing light of scientific inventions and discoveries. Earth became scaled down as just another tiny planet at the galactic fringes, from its originally exalted centrality of the universe. Advances in meteorology and medicine translated into timely weather predictions, effective preparation against climatic vagaries, and cure for ailments. The fallout of this was the challenge of relegating gods to progressively narrowing gaps between science and the unknown. As knowledge advanced, the scope for godly intervention limited to moments near the Big Bang, mysteries surrounding consciousness, or the capriciousness of quantum mechanics. Putting it differently, the plight of gods is now akin to the lion downsizing to a microbe in its own den, desperately trying to squeeze into as yet untraced crannies between the telescopes, microscopes and other equipments of science, AI and ML. 

In an age when scientific laboratories define the nature of reality, religions are in an existential angst. Religious doctrines and theologies are reeling under overpowering might of steadily advancing science and rational outlook. This is sought to be partly countered by ‘retrofitting’ – ferreting out stories from dusty pages of scriptures as if these climatic vagaries and astounding developments in science were anticipated in the revelations of yore: it is a kind of face-saving, desperate attempt at holding religious necks above the surging waters of science and technology; nothing more than that. The mass of fearful and credulous believers forming the bedrock of religions may still find solace in scriptural yarns but by taking recourse to such gimmicks and chicanery the clergy is reducing science to a justifying tool and religious teachings to a crude forecast of scientific discoveries, climatic turbulences and apocalyptic doom or visions of afterlife fantasies.

That begs the question of why humans are involving in something so infructuous. The reason is that human mind craves for stories whereas science is about equations, possibilities and procedural rigour. It tells what, when and how of things but not the who. Attempts to use divine intervention as an explanation for phenomena not yet understood by science, and attributing phenomena that are not yet explained by science to the direct intervention of God are sarcastically captured in the expression, god of the gaps. It posits that any gap in scientific understanding is a space where god’s existence can be inserted as an explanation. However, the sarcasm in this line of reasoning comes to the fore when science eventually explains the phenomenon.

As scientific knowledge continues to advance, these gaps tend to shrink, potentially weakening the argument for god’s existence. Critics contend that such an approach can undermine religious beliefs by suggesting that god only operates in the unexplained areas of our understanding, leaving little room for divine involvement in a comprehensive and coherent worldview. In this context, some theologians and scientists have proposed that a more satisfactory approach is to view evidence of divinity within the natural processes themselves, rather than relying on the gaps in scientific understanding to validate religious beliefs.

From the last quarter of nineteenth century, Friedrich Nietzsche states in his Thus Spoke Zarathustra that “into every gap they put their delusion, their stopgap, which they called God”. The concept goes back to Henry Drummond, a contemporary evangelist lecturer, from his 1893 Lowell Lectures on The Ascent of Man. He chastises those Christians who point to the things that science has not explained as presence of god — “gaps which they will fill up with God” — and urges them to embrace all nature as god’s, as the work of “an immanent god, which is the God of Evolution, is infinitely grander than the occasional wonder-worker, who is the God of an old theology.”

During World War II, the German theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer expressed the concept in similar terms in letters he wrote while in a Nazi prison. In his words: “how wrong it is to use God as a stop-gap for the incompleteness of our knowledge. If in fact the frontiers of knowledge are being pushed further and further back (and that is bound to be the case), then God is being pushed back with them, and is therefore continually in retreat. We are to find God in what we know, not in what we don’t know.”

Charles Alfred Coulson wrote: “There is no ‘God of the gaps’ to take over at those strategic places where science fails; and the reason is that gaps of this sort have the unpreventable habit of shrinking. And either God is in the whole of Nature, with no gaps, or He’s not there at all.” Coulson was a mathematics professor at Oxford University as well as a Methodist church leader, often appearing in the religious programs of British Broadcasting Corporation. The actual phrase ‘God of the gaps’ is credited to him. 

There are gaps in a physical-chemical explanation of this world, and there always will be. Because science has learned many marvelous secrets of nature, it cannot be concluded that it can explain all phenomena. Meaning, soul, spirits, and life are subjects incapable of physical-chemical explanation or formation. The term God-of-the-gaps fallacy can refer to a position that assumes an act of god as the explanation for an unknown phenomenon, which according to the users of the term, is a variant of an argument from ignorance fallacy. Such an argument is sometimes reduced to the following form: There is a gap in understanding of some aspect of the natural world. Therefore, the cause must be supernatural. But such arguments tend to relegate god to the leftovers of science: as scientific knowledge increases, the dominion of god decreases, as depicted by the AI hand of science closing in on the human hand.

It has also been argued that the god-of-the-gaps view is predicated on the assumption that any event which can be explained by science automatically excludes god; that if god did not do something via direct action, he had no role in it at all. The “god of the gaps” argument, as traditionally advanced, was intended as a criticism against weak or tenuous faith, not as a statement against theism or belief in god. The phrase is generally derogatory, and is inherently a direct criticism of a tendency to postulate acts of god to explain phenomena for which science has not (at least at present) given a satisfactory account. In this vein, Richard Dawkins, an atheist, dedicates a chapter of his book The God Delusion to criticism of the god-of-the-gaps argument. He noted: “Creationists eagerly seek a gap in present-day knowledge or understanding. If an apparent gap is found, it is assumed that God, by default, must fill it. What worries thoughtful theologians such as Bonhoeffer is that gaps shrink as science advances, and God is threatened with eventually having nothing to do and nowhere to hide.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer clearly saw the danger of placing God on the level of secondary causal explanation. God and the god hypothesis would be edged out, just as the astronomer Marquis de Laplace replied “I had no need of that hypothesis” when Napoleon asked why he did not discuss God in his writings. According to Ian Barbour in Religion and Science: Historical and Contemporary Issues (1997): “The ‘God of the gaps’ was as unnecessary in biology after Darwin as it had been in physics after Laplace. Adaptive changes could be accounted for by random variation and natural selection without involving divine intervention. We have Darwin to thank for finally making it clear that God is neither a secondary cause operating on the same level as natural forces nor a means for filling gaps in the scientific account.”

The concept of god intervening from beyond to fill in inadequate knowledge or to resolve human problems actually goes back in Western culture to the ancient Greeks and the understanding of a deus ex machina (god of the machine) found in Greek theatre. When a plot became too convoluted (or the audience’s patience and endurance was wearing thin), an actor wearing the mask of the appropriate Greek deity would literally be lowered onto the stage from above by a crane (the machine) and resolve the plot conflicts, restore order, and serve out justice. In later thought, deus ex machina came to refer to any theological concept that involved god directing human or earthly events by dropping out of the supernatural into the natural. The ad hoc character of the concept expresses a form of theological desperation in which divine involvement cannot be understood in a coherent way with other forms of rational explanation.

The world is unfree, bound in shackles of precepts and attitudes handed down through generations. Thus the profound words, “The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence becomes an act of rebellion,” of Albert Camus, encapsulates his existentialist idea that when external structures deny freedom, one finds true liberty and resistance through internal rebellion, authenticity, self-determination, and living fearlessly, making one’s very being a defiance against oppression, as explored in works like The Rebel and The Myth of Sisyphus. Camus argues that true freedom isn’t just political; it’s a state of mind, a conscious choice to live authentically despite oppressive systems.

By choosing our own values and living by them, even when it contradicts societal norms, we inherently challenge the system. This aligns with existentialist thought, where individuals create meaning and freedom in a meaningless or restrictive world through their choices and actions. It addresses the absurd tension between humanity’s search for meaning and the world’s indifference, suggesting rebellion through conscious, free living. 

‘What a ride,’ exclaims Shubhanshu Shukla from his spacecraft. 

“Kya kamaal ki ride thi (what an amazing ride),” the Indian astronaut remarked as SpaceX’s Dragon spacecraft entered the orbit around the Earth within 10 minutes of launch from NASA’s spaceport in Florida.

Group Captain Shubhanshu Shukla, who became the second Indian to travel to space, spoke in chaste Hindi to announce India’s return to space after a gap of 41 years, and urged everyone to be a part of his journey.

“The Tiranga (Tricolour) on my shoulders tells me that I am not alone and I am with all of you,” the 39-year-old fighter pilot-turned-astronaut said in his first remarks from the earth’s orbit.

“Namaskar, my dear countrymen. What a ride! We have returned to space after a gap of 41 years and what an amazing ride it was,” he said, also adding, “We are orbiting the earth at a speed of 7.5 km per second… This is not just the beginning of my journey to the International Space Station, but the beginning of India’s human space programme and it is my desire that all the countrymen become a part of this journey. Your chest, too, should swell with pride… Together, let’s embark on this journey of India’s Human Space Programme. Jai Hind! Jai Bharat”. 

Group Captain Shukla scripted history by embarking on a space odyssey along with three others to the International Space Station as part of a commercial mission by Axiom Space on Wednesday 25th June 2025, 41 years after astronaut Rakesh Sharma’s spaceflight onboard a Russian spacecraft.

Effecting successful liftoff  at 6:31 am UTC (2:31 am EDT, 12:01 pm IST, 8:31 am CET), the mission uses a SpaceX Falcon 9 rocket operated by Axiom Space. Shukla will perform 7 India-led experiments, including work on seeds, algae, and human physiology in microgravity. But this mission, especially for India, is no longer a one-off. India’s space agency, ISRO, sees the Axiom-4 mission as a key stepping stone toward its own maiden crewed mission, planned for 2027 under the Gaganyaan (meaning “sky craft”) programme. India also plans to set up its own space station over the next decade.

The crew of four consists of commander Peggy Whitson, an Axiom employee and former NASA astronaut; pilot Shubhanshu Shukla of the Indian Space Research Organisation; and mission specialists Sławosz Uznański-Wiśniewski, a European Space Agency project astronaut from Poland, and Tibor Kapu representing the Hungarian Space Office. Shubhanshu Shukla is the first member of India’s astronaut corps to fly to space.

The mission represents the first government-sponsored human spaceflight in over 40 years, and the second overall, for India, Poland, and Hungary, with each country having previously participated in one Soviet-era Interkosmos mission. While the Interkosmos missions docked at Salyut 6 or Salyut 7, this is the first mission for those countries to the ISS.

Ax‑4 represents a milestone for India’s Indian Human Spaceflight Programme, integrating with ISRO’s Gaganyaan initiative. While Gaganyaan remains India’s independent crewed program, Ax‑4 provides the first opportunity for an Indian astronaut—Shubhanshu Shukla—to fly on a commercial mission to the ISS. Shukla will conduct experiments developed by ISRO and Indian institutions, including studies of cognitive effects of screen use, microbial adaptation, muscle atrophy, and crop resilience in microgravity.

The Dragon spacecraft — named Grace by the astronauts — was programmed to dock at the International Space Station at 4:30 p.m. IST on Thursday 26/6/2025. Accordingly, SpaceX’s Axiom-4 mission docked at the International Space Station around 4.45 pm IST and crew members entered the orbital lab around 6 pm. 

Speaking after marking the historic presence of an Indian astronaut for the first time on the International Space Station and the second visit of an Indian to space, Shubhanshu Shukla said he will get used to the no-gravity environment in a few days.

In a message in Hindi, he said, “I have reached safely. Standing here………is slightly difficult. My head is heavy, but we will be used to this in a few days. I am very excited to conduct the experiments.”

He added that it is a privilege to “see the earth from a vantage point.”. The minute I entered the International Space Station, this crew made me feel so welcome. You literally opened the doors to your house for us. It was fantastic. I am very confident that the next 14 days are going to be amazing – as you said – advancing science and research and working together,” he added.

The 14-day mission on board the ISS will “realise the return” to human spaceflight for India, Poland and Hungary.

As he zoomed into space on board the SpaceX Falcon 9-rocket on Wednesday, Group Captain Shukla gave wing to the hopes of an entire nation — and realised his own dream that likely first took shape when he attended an air show as a child.

The 39-year-old, who propelled himself into history as the first Indian on the International Space Station and only the second to go into space after Rakesh Sharma in 1984, has more than 2,000 hours of flying experience on a wide range of fighter jets over a decade-long career in the Indian Air Force.

The Lucknow-born Shukla, who goes by the call sign ‘Shux’, is part of an ISRO-NASA supported commercial spaceflight by Axiom Space that blasted off for a 14-day sojourn to the International Space Station from the Kennedy Space Centre in Florida.

Millions dream of soaring into space, to conquer that final frontier. And some like Shukla take it to fruition.

His elder sister Suchi Shukla remembers when it all first started. “As a child he had once been to an air show, and he later told me how he was fascinated by the speed and sound of the aircrafts. Then he had spoken of his dream to fly, but of course there was no telling at the time how quickly he would embrace his dream.

“As an Indian and as his sister, it’s definitely a very proud moment, for this space journey of my brother is carrying with them the hopes and blessings of a billion Indians,” Suchi told PTI ahead of the launch that was delayed several times. He is carrying the taste of home with him in his space odyssey, she said.

On a personal note, the event marks a stellar moment for me too, as 13th April 1984 saw the arrival of my son to planet Earth, the day when Rakesh Sharma, India’s first astronaut executed his successful space mission. As proud parents, it was then the privilege of Lekha and myself to give the same name, Rakesh, to our son now striding sturdily in all of his present 41 years at Leopardstown, a suburb of Dublin, Ireland where he is presently pursuing his engineering career. A happy convergence of memories and circumstances have also enabled, though for a brief period, our family togetherness in Leopardstown with our grandchildren. 

As Axiom-4 gets to accomplish its task to also set up for the upcoming Gaganyaan mission, mindless exploitation of the terrestrial environment is a continuing reality, and earthlings in many regions of the globe are locked in destructive strife, delineating a weird story that is inexorably distorting into indecipherable hieroglyphs in the larger script of life, leading to nihilism and potential migration of humans to other planets in a desperate quest for safer and tranquil havens. 

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A few years ago, I laid out my reflections on ‘Journeying To The Great Beyond’, which was a progression on my romanticized views upholding the sanctity of life regardless of circumstances, under the title ‘Euthanasia? Yes Or No’, posted over a decade ago. Life has taken many twists and turns since then. The larger world, too, is moving fast, blurring the thin line between spiritual and the temporal. The things that were held sacred and sacrosanct are no more so because emerging compulsions, born out of quantum leaps in knowledge, necessitate seeing them through the lens of pragmatism and common sense.

The father of human behavior research, Daniel Kahneman – who famously wrote the book Thinking Fast, Thinking Slow – spent his life studying how we make decisions and uncovering the biases that cloud our judgment. In the end, he made an unusual final choice – to end his life, on the 27^th March, 2024. Just a year ago. It transpires that Daniel Kahneman, at 90 years old, opted for assisted suicide in Switzerland. His decision was influenced by his declining health, including failing kidney function and increasing mental lapses. He had long held the belief that “the miseries and indignities of the last years of life are superfluous”. He wanted to avoid a prolonged decline and “go out on his own terms”. He also expressed that he had made peace with death, viewing it as “going to sleep and not waking up”.

Another recent incident, really appalling, right here in my hometown, is the case of Dr. George P Abraham, a renowned Urologist and Renal transplant specialist with a successful track record of couple of thousand kidney transplants; a beacon of hope for many of his patients, the doctor was on his usual weekly retreat to his suburban farmhouse. Around late hours in the night, he was seen hanging in his room. Subsequent police inquest revealed a suicide note in his pocket which mentioned that age, at 77 years, had blunted his working and he was missing his professional satisfaction of yesteryears. According to the note, the suicide was on account of his anguish over not being able to continue his medical practice with same proficiency as before; since undergoing a surgery on his spine around six months back, his hands started shivering virtually putting paid to the prospect of continuing his surgical practice. Also, the miseries and indignities of a prolonged decline that was in store might have weighed on the doctor’s mind to decide on a quick exit instead of the agonizing wait for Nature’s guillotine.

A stray dog in repose.. Evening view of a secluded stretch of Kollam Beach..

A century ago, the average lifespan was a mere 32 years. Medical science has progressively extended human life expectancy far beyond what was once thought possible. So when an 87 year old with multi organ failure is admitted to the ICU or requires multiple heart procedures, should he be saddled with every possible intervention? Must there be not a pause to ponder over the goal, varying from extending life by a few months to restoring quality and respecting the patient’s dignity? Medicine provides an answer. But wisdom, nay compassion, demands a deeper conversation.

To put things in perspective, two French studies analyzing large numbers of ICU patients over 85 years of age found that 55% died in the hospital. Among those who survived, patients aged 85-89 survived an average of 10 months while those 90 and older lived for only 4 months.

With ageing, our bodies weaken and heal more slowly, well-meaning medical practitioners point out. The risks of medical interventions are magnified. In some cases, all that can be seen are a flurry of tubes, beeping machines, and sterile rooms replacing the warmth of a home. The pain and fear in the patient’s eyes – the silent plea for a familiar face, a gentle touch – add to the discomfiture of the near ones. The truth is, the body’s resilience wanes. The pain is both physical and emotional. In his mind, the patient is torn between the faint hope of recovery and despair of present suffering. I am going into such excruciating detail based on experience of seeing my brother-in-law, himself a specialist doctor who, after having suffered a heart attack, and a stroke following angioplasty, is virtually crippled and confined to his bed, being shunted between home and hospital for over last ten years. At 72 years, he is now reduced to a bag of bones. The elder of his two daughters, also a specialist doctor, discussed a few medical interventions with the doctors at the hospital. To which the doctors responded that “somehow keeping your father breathing is not life”, meaning clearly that it is better to let go at the point when quality of life is not restorable.

At that point, the most profound solace for the elderly happens in the embrace of loved ones. The laughter of grandchildren, the cosiness of a favourite armchair, the simple joy of a sunset – these are the moments that truly define a life well lived. May the final chapter be written at home, surrounded by love, not in the sterile confines of a hospital.

Finally, do I appreciate Kahneman’s and Dr George P Abraham’s choice? Yes. Do I endorse it? Yes, of course, as and when quality of life is impacted. Both these gentlemen made well considered and deeply personal decisions that their families, though suddenly grief stricken, must have eventually come to terms with. As medical science advances and lifespans lengthen, we may see more of these choices being exercised in the future. The question worth asking is not how long can life be prolonged, but at what cost and for whose benefit? Twilight years are not to be riddled with suffering and travails. Life is a journey of solemn purpose, challenging, fulfilling and rewarding in its bewildering inflections; may each one be enabled with a dignified exit out of it.

In the eternal flow of time, the brief and zippy coda of a short span of twelve months is a precious gem: preciousness accentuated by its ephemerality; here this moment as a shimmering stream, vanishing, in a trice, into nature’s oceanic depths. Within its brevity, we have the opportunity of seeing off the old and moving on to another temporal portion from time’s infinite treasury. Just as the break of new day lights up the horizon into a festival of myriad colours, new year, too, brings in the fond hope of raining down peace, happiness, progress, prosperity and all kinds of material and spiritual well-being.

The pursuit of newness is almost universal. New possessions, friends, places and engagements taking life forward are joyful for their rewarding experiences. Yet, it serves as a reminder of the basic limitation of all things worldly, circumscribed as they are by their evanescence or impermanence. Be it any prized product, exciting piece of art or music, or any other form of entertainment, none of it holds the capacity to provide unending gratification or value. Still, the striving after creature comforts is relentless till the point of realization of true happiness in one’s inner core. The cycle of birth and death, changing seasons, relentless turn of the wheel of time are purposed towards facilitating aforementioned realization. It enables righting of wrongs, refining grossness and performing good acts hitherto overlooked; thereby opening up possibilities for better today than yesterday and better tomorrow than today. Open to everyone without exception, promising all-round progress through cyclicity of all life, matter and existence. It is a secular spirituality, embracing the potential for all experiences to assume a spiritual quality, not limited to any one religious or transcendent realm.

As we move into another year completing nearly a quarter of the twenty-first century, the question that keeps looming larger with every passing year is whether we have progressed as humans in aligning with values initially set forth in magna carta and thereafter in other democratic constitutions in terms of justiciable fundamental rights and social weal. “Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains. One man thinks himself the master of others, but remains more of a slave than they are.” With firm statement echoing through the corridors of three centuries, Rousseau avers that all humans are born equal but some are deprived of their rights and enslaved by the chains of compulsion force. The chains of slavery, poverty, class, sect and countless other partisan considerations are the indicators that man is invariably enslaved at some level. In contrast to some of his forerunners and contemporaries (such as Montesquieu and Thomas Hobbes), Rousseau believed that humans possessed a natural goodness and that caring properly for oneself did not exclude concern for the welfare of others.

Though all were born free and socially equal, inequalities emerged as artificial creations of social systems based on private property and organized labour – systems that allowed the domination and exploitation of some people by others. The world has changed significantly since Rousseau’s time, yet the rankling issues of divisiveness, prejudices and communal strife remain mostly unresolved. In spite of dream-like leaps in technology taking amazing strides in AI, hyper-loop, air taxis, seaplane tourism and space shuttles, and tidal wave of changes wrought by social media, IoT, neo-liberal economic policies and consequent renewal in lifestyle, humankind is still stymied by social and racial barriers, gender disparity, regionalism and inequality of opportunity. The resplendent world of technology and high-life runs in parallel with the gloomy and achromatic world of inequities and turmoil. The need of the hour is for a messiah and reformer, capable of uplifting huge masses of people from the clutches of deeply entrenched beliefs and dogma into a brave new borderless world of freedom and egalitarianism.

Freedom and liberty of expression constitute the cornerstone of a system that can create a conducive environment for righting of wrongs, refining grossness and uplifting human endeavor towards newer reaches of excellence, leading to an efflorescence of art and literature, and scientific breakthrough that challenges every form of orthodoxy. Newness in art or science is always a creation of learning and fresh thinking in the present moment. As Jiddu Krishnamurti put it pithily, “Knowledge is accumulation of the past. Learning is always in the present”. And without learning, there is no advancement as human endeavor remains mired in the morass of custom and dreary habit.

Ergo, to reject or vilify art, if it is not in consonance with one’s beliefs, is failing to understand its nature. Art sets the artist’s passionate personal vision against the received ideas of its time because art knows that received ideas are the enemies of art, as Flaubert maintained in Bouvard et Pecuchet. Whether sanctioned by invisible sky gods or earthly beings, ideologies and beliefs seek to restrict thinking to narrow definitions. Without art’s enablement of constant renewal and fresh thinking, our world would wither and die. Constituting the essence of our humanity, art seeks the right to exist. It accepts argument, criticism, even rejection. It does not accept violence. And in the end, it outlives those who oppress it. Ovid was exiled by Augustus Caesar, but the poetry of Ovid has survived the Roman Empire. Mandelstam’s life was ruined by Joseph Stalin, but his poetry has outlived the Soviet Union. Lorca was murdered by the thugs of General Franco, but his art has withstood the fascism of the Falange.

“There is too much tendency to attribute to god the evils that man does of his own free will”. Agatha Christie’s famous statement speaks to the idea that people often blame their wrongdoings on a higher power or forces beyond their control, encapsulated in Latin as ‘force majeure’. Whether we choose to do good or evil is up to us, but it is pointless to deflect it towards an abstraction, conveniently called god, for our wrongdoings. Ascribing our errors and misdeeds to someone up there is escapism, known as attribution syndrome. Terrorists across the world and in all dogmatic religions invariably bring in god to justify their heinous and barbaric acts like some zombie apocalypse.

Just a few weeks back, I read a book about the inevitability of death in a world where research is on to make humans immortal. Seeking to arrest ageing and attain the span of double centenarians in longevity, if not actual Markendaya-like immortality, is now a multi-billion dollar research and business liberally funded by tech billionaires of California (Elon Musk, Peter Thiel, Larry Page, Sergey Brin, Yuri Milner, Jeff Bezos, and Mark Zuckerberg are all part of funding the anti-ageing research bandwagon). When they were young, they wanted to be rich, and now that they are rich, they all want to stay young and keep mortality away..! The only notable exception is Bill Gates, who is realistic in his recognition that the best way to improve overall life expectancy is by living healthily and addressing world’s healthcare inequities. Despite intensive research, scientists have yet to figure out reliable measures to arrest ageing. 

Ageing research taps into most people’s primeval fear of death, with many willing to subscribe to anything that might postpone or eliminate it. The reality, however, is that the prospect of humans living forever is as remote today as it has ever been. Also, from an environmental and social standpoint, what is desirable is sustainability and constant generational renewal. Generations living longer lives is not only regressive and unproductive but also environmentally depleting and therefore not at all advisable. Let the end come as and when due. The only thing that is to be feared is prolonged debilitation that precedes death. So if morbidity can be compressed to the minutest extent whereby any suffering, including potential loss of dignity, is negligible, there is no room for anxiety. 

It is that time of the year, where we not only need to be grateful for all the good that happened, but also hold a mirror to ourselves to see where we can be better. The reason for our subjective experience of time passing, is because we ourselves are in motion. It is like looking out of the window of a moving train, and seeing the scenery change. The only difference is that when we time, we remember how things were and how the same affected us. It is not only us that time. Everything in the universe is timing along with us. Motion refers to change. Changes in location are referred to as spatial motion. Changes in atomic state, are referred to as temporal motion. We can remain stationery, but, we cannot remain static.

The word now, describes our current temporal location. Because we are always in temporal motion, now is not a fixed temporal state. Unlike space, where our previous location still exists, the past and the future do not exist. The past is where we come from. The future is where we are heading. The present, now, is linked to us. Where ever we go, we are here, spatially, and now, temporarily. The progress of time derives from cosmology.

As time scales on to a new twelve-month span, the younger generations stand classified into Gen X – born 1965-1979. Millennials – born 1980-1994. Gen Z – born 1995-2012. Gen Alpha – born 2013 onwards. The distinguishing aspect of these generations is the qualitative shift in their manner of redefining and practicing freedom, with greater openness, accommodation of diversities, and willingness to eschew narrow ideologies and restrictive practices. Freedom serves to uplift the individual physically, mentally and economically. Societal progress is the sum total of the knowledge acquisition and intellectual development through rational and prudent lives of its individuals reflecting in beneficial changes in culture.

I see time as life, the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present and future regarded as a whole, a non-spatial continuum that is measured in terms of events which succeed one another from past through present to future. The time you have is your life. Life is time. Whatever happens in your life, you always refer it to time: “Do you remember when?” “Do you guys remember that time when…?” Basically, time is existence, which is life. Make the best of life.

“ഗായകാ നിൻ വിപഞ്ചികയിലെ ഗാനമായിരുന്നെങ്കിൽ ഞാൻ / താവകാംഗുലീലാളിതമൊരു താളമായിരുന്നെങ്കിൽ ഞാൻ / കൽ‌പ്പനകൾ ചിറകണിയുന്ന 
പുഷ്പമംഗല്ല്യ രാത്രിയിൽ / വന്നു ചൂടിക്കുമായിരുന്നു ഞാൻ എന്നിലെ രാഗമാലിക..”, so goes one of the strains of a Malayalam song of the late 1960s. It broadly translates into “oh minstrel if only I were a melodic song on your harp, / a rhythm ardently struck by your deft fingers; / I would, on a night of flowery gold when my fancy takes wings, / fly to your midst to adorn you with a garland of my musical notes..”. Translation, regrettably, is an indequate tool to fully convey the magic, as described by the lyricist, in the minstrel’s music. 

Life is a stuff suffused with music and, bereft of it, our brief earthly transit would have been so insipid and drab. A sentiment that would probably have prompted Maya Angelou to exclaim, “Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness”. 

Today, June 21, 2024, is World Music Day (WMD), also known as Fête de la Musique, uniting people around the globe through the universal language of music. This annual event, steeped in history and cultural significance, offers a platform for musicians of all genres to showcase their talent and for communities to come together in a harmonious celebration of sound.

The origins of WMD date back to 1982 in France, initiated as the brainchild of Jack Lang, then minister of Culture and Maurice Fleuret, a renowned composer and music journalist. They envisioned a day dedicated to free and live music, encouraging amateur and professional musicians alike to take to the streets and perform. Their vision materialised on June 21, 1982, chosen to coincide with the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. This inaugural event was a resounding success, setting the stage for an annual celebration across the world. WMD is presently celebrated in more than 120 countries and its significance extends beyond mere performances. It provides an opportunity for people of all ages, backgrounds, and musical preferences to engage in a shared experience, fostering a sense of community and mutual appreciation.

The World Music Day holds special significance in the Indian context, since our diverse country is the home of Carnatic and Hindustani classical music traditions preceding a rich repertoire of folk and contemporary music streams in around 22 different languages. The performance this year at Kolkata’s Netaji Indoor Stadium is centred around the collaboration of numerous musical styles, bringing together the spirit of several musical ideologies in a unique and harmonious blend that resonates across boundaries and unites the soul. As a city that celebrates the arts, WMD has been transformed into a flagship event by the musicians of Kolkata. With legends like Amjad Ali Khan, Usha Uthup, Shubha Mudgal, Shankar Mahadevan, Rekha Bhardwaj and Papon set to hit the stage, this year’s performance promises to be superlative. 

It is not all sound. The interlude of silence between sounds of the singers and instruments is part of the music too: “The music is not in the notes, but in the silence between” (Mozart). The musician and the raga (literally, ‘colouring’; raga in Indian classical music is a melodic framework, akin to a melodic mode, each of the six basic musical modes expressing different moods in certain characteristic progressions, with more emphasis placed on some notes than others. Raga is central to classical Indian music and a unique feature of the tradition: no equivalent concept exists in western music. Each raga consists of an array of melodic structures and musical motifs; and, from the perspective of the Indian tradition, the resultant musical output holds the ability to “colour the mind” as it engages the emotions of the audience) are like the temple priest and the deity. Every morning as the musician sits down to practise, the soulful lyrics and the rhythm rouse the raga’s divine force – quite like the ceremonial prayer performed in a temple to ‘awaken’ the deity. 

Like the priest, the musician first purifies his own mind, body and soul, and seeks his guru’s blessings before he begins to sing. As the temple precincts are cleansed before the daily puja, the place where the riyaz or sadhana is performed each day is tidied up likewise. The priest first ‘calls’ the deity, what is known as the aavahan, with mantras and invites Him to be ‘seated’ as the vigraha, which is duly adorned with vermilion, sandal paste and silk cloth. To the chanting of mantras, the priest ‘appeases’ the divinity present in the vigraha, treating it as a guest with offerings of milk, honey, fruits, sweets and incense placed in front of lit oil lamps. Similarly, the musician sings the lyrics like a mantra, appeasing the raga’s deity by awakening its mandala or mystic swara configuration. As the raga is sung, in cycles of initiation, elaboration and conclusion, they expand its presence and aura, giving it life and a spiritual extension and reach. Today holds an added significance too in that the 21st June is commemorated as the International Yoga Day – duly honouring an ancient practice that can be verily described as the music of the body and mind, since yoga essentially is the orchestration of energy into all bodily organs to harmonise mind and soul. 

It is finding new ways to move the body through asanas, controlling one’s breath with pranayamas and finding a centred self through meditation. Hatha yoga is a branch of yoga that uses bodily techniques to try to preserve and channel vital force or energy. The Sanskrit word hatha literally means “force”, alluding to a system of physical postures and movements. Hatha splits to ha and ta, respectively denoting the sun and moon, signifying the need to balance the inner sun and moon, otherwise known as the pingala and Ida energies within, to attain a state of harmony and thereby higher levels of awareness. It ought to be clear that energy is foundational to all existence and what is perceived as severalty of matter is merely an illusion created by the sense faculties. Systematic calibration of the all-pervasive energy and continuous research on it is called science; seeking deeper understanding of the supreme energy manifesting as music, dance, paintings and sculpture in the respective harmony of sounds, graceful bodily movements and expressions, colours and forms, pervading as universal consciousness, and utilising the practice of yoga to attain higher dimensions of awareness is called spirituality; merely investing it with divinity and blind deification of it in different forms degrade it into dogmatic religions, artfully institutionalised and manipulated by the clergy and partisan interests to opiate the masses, exercise control and dominance as power blocs.

Winding mountain roads are not mere serpentine ribbons of asphalt but an open vista, a new perspective of the surrounding panorama. Driving or trekking along these roads, suddenly a majestic view appears; unheralded, a snow clad mountain peak makes its appearance purveying ineffable joy. The sight of a peak, either shrouded in mist or illuminated by the sun’s golden rays, is certain to leave the viewer uplifted. The sheer scale of a mountain range is awe-inspiring, a reminder of nature’s grandeur and overwhelming power. With every step, the mountain grows larger, its details becoming more defined – the rugged cliffs, verdant slopes and patches of snow. Each mountain ridge tells a tale of time, etched by weather’s brushstrokes, a testament to resilience and magnificence. The chiarascuro of light and shade unveils a breathtaking spectacle, evoking reverence. It is not only natural beauty; in the mountains one finds solace, deep connect, and a profound appreciation of the cosmos with its harmony and impeccable orderliness. The liberation of spirit accompanied by unalloyed happiness enveloping our senses, is a dimension of bliss overarching truth. Wherever pure joy pervades, truth trails closely by. That is why the divine is called sat-chit-anand, translating to truth-consciousness-bliss.

Garibaldi Heights, Vancouver BC..

It is a profundity that is equally experienced in the predawn hours. There is a quiet hum of dawn, when the world is still asleep. The early riser becomes a privileged witness to the birth of a new day, observing the subtle transformation of shadows into light. In this me-time, the mind finds its sanctuary for uninterrupted strands of thoughts, to contemplate the day ahead in perfect serenity and quietude. As the rest of the world gradually stirs, the early bird carries the residue of morning serenity into the unfolding day. There is a sense of accomplishment in having stolen a march on time, an unspoken victory over the pressing demands of a bustling world.

Thamarassery gradient, en route to Wayanad in Kerala..

My occasional forays into hilly terrains and regular me-time during pre-dawn hours are presently holding up as oasis of calm and quiet sequeing uncomfortably into the scorching tropical heat and aridity of summer days, presently stretching its way into mind’s terrains to wither away blooms of optimism and positivity. Climatic patterns are in disarray, manifesting as disastrous cloudbursts, cyclonic turbulences and bouts of torrential rain and extremes of summer heat in various parts of Asia. A deep gloom envelopes the mental horizon which hitherto remained bathed in luminosity of hope for better tomorrows, a kind of inner turmoil resonating from environmental degradation and conflicts around various regions worldwide.

The dharmic way of life enjoins the preservation and conservation of Nature, as beautifully delineated in the Vedic prayer chanted upon one’s waking up at the dawn of a new day: Samudra-vasane Devi / Parvata-Stana-Mannddale / Vishnu-Patni Namasthubhyam / Paadha-Sparsham Kshamasvame. It approximately translates to, “Oh Devi (Mother Earth), donning the Ocean as your garment, and Mountains figuring as your bosom, / Oh consort of Vishnu, salutations to you; seeking absolution for the tread of my feet”. The shloka is a morning salutation to Mother Earth, revered here as goddess Lakshmi, consort of Vishnu, beseeching forgiveness for treading on the terrain construed as her body. Stated differently, humans are exhorted to seek pardon of mother Earth for the privilege of using, and in the process often abusing, her exteriority in pursuit of their daily sustenance. The prayer serves as a solemn reminder of the heightened sensitivity and care to be exercised in the conduct of our workaday lives. The values of environmental conservation, conscious and sustainable living are deeply embedded in metaphors highlighting a reverential attitude to planet Earth, spiritualized as Lakshmi.

Consciousness, according to Arthur Young, “sleeps in the minerals, awakens in plants, walks in animals and thinks in man”. Consciousness progresses through desire, manifestation and love. It hibernates in the minerals while informing across aeons, and awakens in the plant, with even more informing across larger timescales to gain dynamism in the fauna and gather critical mass to finally attain sapience in the human. Environmental, social and governance, known shortly as ESG, is a burgeoning force delving deep into spiritual values, with its overarching framework extending to the management of self, family, and society. Its essence expands to E-empowerment through a positive mindset, S-strong relationships, and G-governance rooted in disciplined practices imbued with spiritual values. The resultant positivity emanating from individuals, salubriously impact family dynamics and, much like a potent virus, possesses the capability to synergistically influence the broader ecosystem.

Various spiritual traditions seamlessly align with the redefined values of ESG. The Upanishadic Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam, meaning ‘the world is one family’, underscores the promotion of a shared destiny akin to familial bonds. Thus ESG is a spiritual compass guiding us towards transformation. We must actively work to make it happen: as in the words of Peter Drucker, “The best way to predict the future is to create it”, or the audacious hope in Martin Luther King Jr’s words, “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree”. And it is not a mirage. As King articulates it again, ‘Hope is not an illusion…the world has thus far survived on seemingly outlandish hopes’. When the threads of material wealth and spiritual essence intertwine, the concept of abundance unfurls its sails, aided by the winds of cosmic generosity. The air we breathe, sunlight that bathes the earth, the rains and endless expanse of water, the vastness of space and twinkling stars have all been bestowed freely upon us. Nature, the ultimate philanthropist, teaches us that abundance is a birthright, not an earned privilege. Denoting the richness of the soul, abundance is a journey with a spiritual compass. As we tread the path illuminated by ancient wisdom and modern insights, we discover that true abundance is not merely material possessions but the boundless love, compassion and generosity we share with the world. As Wayne Dyer would have it, ‘Abundance is not something we acquire. It is something we tune into’.

“The existential dilemma is this: because we are free, we are also inherently responsible”. A bounden responsibility clearly pointing at the imperative to reduce emissions and concurrently eliminate the accumulated carbon in the biosphere: CCUS, which stands for Carbon Capture Utilization (or sometimes this is termed ‘usage’) and Storage. The idea is that, instead of storing carbon, it could be re-used in industrial processes by converting it into, for example, plastics, concrete or biofuel. CCUS refers to a suite of technologies that enable the mitigation of carbon emissions from large point sources such as power plants, refineries, transportation modes and other industrial facilities, or the removal of existing carbon from the atmosphere.

Environmental degradation is only a side effect of what Kim Stanley Robinson calls Götterdämmerung capitalism, the destructive and dehumanizing influence of modern capitalism, only slightly different from feudalism, with an owner class consistently enriching off the workers and the environment. The UN’s climate negotiations always make a strong distinction between developed and developing nations, with repeated injunctions on developed nations to do more to mitigate climate problems than developing nations. Now, as the situation continues to deteriorate, many of the stakeholders see themselves fighting a losing battle, confronted as they are with the apathy of some of the major economies disinclined to meet their emission targets. The sincere group is arguing that all the young people on Earth, along with generations of humans in the centuries to come, who could never speak for themselves, added up to something like a hugely deprived and vulnerable fledgling, appearing inexorably over the horizon of time. These new citizens were young and weak, in many cases utterly helpless. And yet they had rights too, under the Paris Agreement’s equity clauses to which every nation is a signatory. Arguably, they had rights equivalent to those of a developing nation. And without quick and massive efforts of developed and economically strong countries, the developing nations’ developmental, nay existential, challenges continued looming larger.

In a recent study, published in the Lancet, entitled global fertility rates in 204 countries and territories, 1950-2021, with forecasts to 2100, projected India’s total fertility rate (TFR) – the average birth-rate per woman – to drop to 1.29 by 2050. India’s TFR dropped substantially from 6.2 in 1950 to an estimated 1.9 in 2021, plummeting below the universally accepted replacement rate of 2.1. India’s case, however, is not an exception as the global fertility rate dropped from 4.5 in 1950 to 2.2 in 2021. Against the background of reducing population arising mainly from economic growth leading to more women entering workforce, the global drive towards sustainability initiatives to save the environment will matter little, at least to humans, if there are not enough numbers of them left as inhabitants in a few generations.

Dwindling fertility rate may gradually diminish ecological degradation contributing to natural reversal of climate change and rejuvenation of environment in a schema of lesser humans resulting in re-wilding of increasingly vacant spaces, leading to eventual environmental restoration. With global population expected to plateau and steadily plummet in the not so distant future, the emerging scenario is likely to be of fewer humans than before coexisting with more wildlife in what now appears to be a return from a time of illness.

The possibility of a flat world, sans barriers and borders, was, according to Harvard University’s political theorist Michael J Sandel, first identified by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels in the Communist Manifesto, published in 1848. The figurative shrinking and flattening of the world of today may be at variance with what was envisaged by Marx, but it is still part of the same historical trend highlighted in his writings on capitalism – the inexorable march of technology and capital to remove all barriers, boundaries, frictions, and restraints on global commerce. “Marx was one of the first to glimpse the possibility of the world as a global market, uncomplicated by national boundaries”, Sandel explained. “Marx was capitalism’s fiercest critic, and yet he stood in awe of its power to break down barriers and create a worldwide system of production and consumption. In the Communist Manifesto, he described capitalism as a force that would dissolve all feudal, national, and religious identities, giving rise to a universal civilization governed by market imperatives. Marx considered it inevitable that capitalism would have its way – inevitable and also desirable. Because once capitalism destroyed all national and religious allegiances, Marx thought, it would lay bare the stark struggle between capital and labour. Forced to compete in a global race to the bottom, the workers of the world would unite in a global revolution to end oppression. Deprived of consoling distractions such as patriotism and religion, they would see their exploitation clearly and rise up to end it.”

But where do work and workers stand in today’s world? AI is taking over most of routine and repetitive work, compelling larger numbers of workers into re-skilling, unlearning and relearning, a continual process that is uplifting the workforce to higher realms of specialisation and sophistication. The possibility of workers around the world as single class uniting around a commonality of demands is becoming more and more remote and destined to shrink into irrelevance. Assuming greater relevance are the three natural Laws of economics, as expounded by Adam Smith, together with state support by way of policy intervention and fiscal stimulus as posited by John Maynard Keynes; together, they appear to be more in sync with peoples’ progress and developmental aspirations: the law of self-interest – people working for their own good; law of competition – competition forcing consistently better products at lower prices; and law of supply and demand – production of adequate goods at lowest price to meet the demand in a market economy. In other words, rational self-interest in a free market economy appropriately regulated by the state leads to economic wellbeing more than a crop of autocrats at the helm, planning and controlling state’s resources, and deciding the course of citizens’ lives. Liberal market theories explain how to make economic growth faster, yet they do not explain how to make growth inclusive. The models assume that growth at macro level, like a rising tide, lifts all boats, and wealth will percolate down as it accumulates. Such trickling down of wealth, however, does not happen automatically. Achieving economic growth with social inclusion remains a challenge before governments everywhere. Capital formation is kosher only if it places humanity and concern for environment at its centre. Capitalism must be like a tree striking deep roots that enable resources to trickle down to the bottommost level with its fruits of prosperity concurrently spreading out as branches of sustainable development.

Human extinction denotes the hypothetical end of human species, due to population decline vide anthropogenic destruction or extraneous factors such as asteroid impact, massive volcanism, annihilation triggered by nuclear or biological warfare and advanced AI. More than extraneous factors, mankind’s rapaciousness is likely to hasten their end given the way the world is trending. Ecological extinction results from loss of biodiversity that gradually erodes environmental resilience over a period of time. Every specie holds significance as a predator, competitor, symbiont, mutualist, or prey contributing to a wider interactive process that sustains biodiversity in turn leading to ecological preservation.

All things point to the imperative of humankind finding its sustenance whilst simultaneously safeguarding ecological concerns, or else it is destined for early extinction. Over eight billion people segregated into two hundred odd countries and territories separated by military borders, continue to jostle for survival, ascendancy and control, keeping step, regrettably, with the choreography of paternalistic nationalism and religious radicalism. Vitiated by extreme religiosity and sectarianism, nationalism stands distorted, assuming monstrous proportions. A nation is, essentially, an artificial concept and nation building ought to be devoid of sectarianism and accommodative of diversity; it must not be a procrustean process of forcing identity into narrow, constraining walls of religion, race or creed.

Deep emotional and spiritual ties link people to geographies in which they live, duly forged by cultures they have developed and the relationships that further strengthen those ties. The naïve assumption that people can simply transcend their identities, which for better or worse have acquired a certain reality over time, and embrace a hazy and globalized humanism is, even though ideal, unrealistic. The only caveat is that the love of what one considers one’s own must not devolve into chauvinism or notions of superiority, or a xenophobic obsession with keeping one’s environment “clean of outside influences”.

We struggle to define words such as “nationalism” or “patriotism” in positive ways because they have always been somewhat vague and open to multiple interpretations. Some progressives who attempt to construct a non-chauvinistic notion of love for the homeland have attempted to counterpose patriotism, as a preferable attribute to nationalism, which is defined, somewhat arbitrarily, as undesirable. Others in contrarian and equally arbitrary disposition, equate patriotism as inchoate chauvinism, and “nationalism” as an enlightened creed of non-exclusive, geographically-based solidarity. It would, therefore, be opportune to consider matriotism, a new term having a tonal softness and an all-embracing, inclusive feel, advocating an emotive link with the feminist movement and ancient tradition of seeing the Earth as feminine. Myriad cultures, Greek, Indian, Chinese and Sumerian, characterized the Earth as a feminine entity, often personalized as a goddess. The matriotic view also alludes to the earth as “mother”, thus the homeland of the matriot is the matria, i.e. motherland, rather than the masculine patria, or fatherland. Matriotism is specifically, semantically and semiotically identified as the love of the motherland and, in casting it as such, carries a conscious appeal to a set of archetypal feminine values that support an agenda of compassion, empathy and solidarity. The archetypal mother figure, hallowed in various cultures as Dhaatri, Gaia, Ishtar, Brid, Frigga, and Madonna, symbolizes compassion, unremitting care and acceptance.

It is a call to reconceptualize the modern state, particularly the post-war welfare state, in a way that respects and accommodates people’s love of place and culture, which celebrates connection to historical communities without conceding anything to racism, exclusivism, chauvinism or narrow communalism and wanton exploitation of the environment. The matriotic approach is open to adopting new members for inclusion into the family. It is neither bloodline nor race that unites people but their status as milk-siblings, suckled by the same parent whether native or adoptive. There is, however, clearly an implicit responsibility here; matriots must embrace a common set of values that unite them in their diversity. It is not a community where siblings angrily vie with each other for parental attention but one in which solidarity is the first of the matriotic values whereby members are encouraged to remember their fundamental family ties. Matriotism, in short, is a love of place based on relationships.

This may seem to be myth-creation, yet it is necessary to steer societies towards edifying values aimed at preserving the (wo)man and the environment. Mythology and story-telling are ways to help us connect to deeper enduring truths of the ongoing human condition. It is a call for greater democracy, on a notion of rights which is as inseparable from responsibilities as the natural give-and-take of any relationship. It is, in short, an invitation to reconsider and reconceive society as a kind of ecosystem, a system of relationships in which all are valuable, all have a role to play, and all are needed.

The search for the divine is a spiritual odyssey. The concept of divinity has been explored and debated for eons, with different cultures and religions offering their own interpretations. The most rational interpretation within the limits of human comprehension is the posit that everyone and everything is a manifestation of divine energy – part of a dynamic ecosystem comprising a huge multitude of constituents, a veritable inter-connected, inter-dependent web of life, both within and without  -, predicated on the precept of Tat tvam asi.

The divine is one’s own highest, most illumined, most perfect part. We all have two parts, one is higher, the other lower. Most of the time, we tend to stay in the lower plane. By becoming fully aware of our higher being, our lower part is totally transformed and unified with the highest, at which time we are none other than divinity itself. The summit of the spiritual journey is the attainment of one’s own highest, most developed, most perfect and illumined state. 

Selflessness and love are integral to the most illumined state, leading to compassion and enduring happiness. Names of divinities and layers of mythology surrounding them are only signposts whereas the values, such as love, beauty, compassion and happiness, are the vital core. And if a person has attained it, s/he is already up there. By being integrated in our awareness, all our thoughts are shut out as we have become an impenetrable citadel. Not that we are closed; we are still open; but just the very energy of awareness becomes our citadel whereby the thoughts that are afloat will bypass us, enabling our free movement – transiting unaffected even through the most abominable situations in the most loathsome places – to a truly enlightened state. To reach that harmonious state, the sagely advice is to maintain equanimity, avoid negativities, and live mindfully in the present.

In the workaday world, only quantifiable things hold value. This leaves ethics, justice, beauty, loyalty, commitment, love and discipline to an arcane realm of sentiment and abstraction. Does the certitude of scientific knowledge and its specialized fragmentation steal from us the faculty of critical thinking and holistic comprehension, making us social conformists, eager to subjugate ourselves to extant power structures? Perhaps we need to revise our notion of rationality and enlightenment in the first place, and seek movement, instead of acceptance of stasis. 

Life is about finding enough delights in short spans of happiness to extenuate the longer spells of sorrows, frustrations and disappointments, carving out positive swathes to contribute one’s mite to society in a generally unhappy environment where, as Henry Kissinger observed in a different context, there is no “absolute satisfaction but only balanced dissatisfaction”. One way to do this is by choosing our dharma, our passion or ikigai – it could be drawing, painting, photography, mountaineering, reading, writing, music or dance, or whatever lifts the spirit, and adhering to it. This is what Bulgarian essayist Maria Popova calls ‘Parallel Reality’. To find joy and hope for oneself and spark it in others is nothing less than a countercultural act of courage and resistance. It is a matter of discovering a parallel reality, where joy and hope are equally valid ways of being, writes Popova. To underscore her point, she then quotes artist Rene Magritte as saying, “I live in a very unpleasant world because of its routine ugliness. That’s why my painting is a battle or rather a counter-offensive”. The compulsion, therefore, to live a parallel reality, to have a meaningful life by seeking out the kindly light, rather than merging with the encircling gloom.

Schopenhauer’s credo, in this context, that suffering is rooted in the cycle of desire of wanting more, acquiring it and obtaining temporary relief, only to start wanting more all over again leading to a life of suffering and striving is coincidentally reminiscent of Buddhism. He termed it as the ‘will to live’. If the word ‘suffering’ appears to be hyper for the stated human condition, it may be toned down to a lack of peace of mind. The suggested solutions to get out of the vicious cycle are not limited to asceticism and compassion. Art is strongly advocated as a means of finding solace. And even in art forms, it is music that is deemed to be the best option, as music is said to be integrally linked to spirituality; it leads to the right setting for spirituality, in turn inspiring soulful music. A singer’s voice extending to three-and-a-half octaves invoking the divine in raga Abeer Todi, elevates the listener to a spiritual bliss in the same manner as a devotional song set in raga Mohanam or Anandabhairavi, or, even Sufi music and Gregorian chants.

When we think about music, we often focus on the soaring highs of treble or the thumping depths of bass. But there is a whole meadow for our ears to run about in the spectrum of midrange frequencies. These middle tones, or midrange, shape the overall sound, delivering a rich, emotive journey; it is the heart of most compositions, where one listens – and not just hears – vocals, strings and woodwinds. Eric Clapton’s low drone riding the guitar takes on a new shimmer. The sublime notes of Bismillah Khan’s Shehnai travel through a soaring air tunnel. The human voice finds its home in this range, making us connect with, dare we say, an Ella’s or Amy’s soul.

It is in the midrange that instruments find their sweet spots. The resonance of a tanpura, the warmth of an acoustic guitar and the harmonious heft of a saxophone are amplified by these frequencies, and listening to them is like biting into a musical piece. It goes into the artist’s emotions, even intentions. From the ringing riff of a Les Paul to the raw emotion in Billie Holiday’s voice, midrange gets intimate. So, my suggestion for the next time is to try listening to a favourite musical piece or artist, putting ears together for the enchanting midrange, and begin to see the sounds, as in the monsoon raindrops falling on the ground. 

“When the leaves hang trembling, the wind is passing through” said the poet. The magical sound of wind gusting through trees is pleasurable to the senses. Listening to susurration of leaves, watching the branches bend and sway, one experiences life far more subtle, far more generous and far more wondrous than in the humdrum of routine. The wind is, of course, invisible. Neither is it audible. But as soon as the trees catch the wind, we have the wind before our eyes and ears, in a sound describable as psithurism, aptly from the ancient Greek psithuros, or whispering. It is an audible hush, a joy of seeing trees come alive, swaying like apsara dancers, alive to the breezy music. This can be a son et lumière for the onlooker-onhearer, a show put up for his relaxation. What is mesmerising is the rise and fall of the sound, the hiss and shush of psithurism, seeking our quietness and audience, our seeing and being.

In a similar vein, a monsoon downpour is joyous chaos. Stealing the words of Emily Dickinson from a different context, the rains ‘tell all the truth” of Nature “but tell it slant”. Puddle-watching no longer has to be just a child’s delight. For a child-like adult, it is creation in action to be witnessed from a balcony or through a window. A monsoon downpour pierces the heart of scorching heat and does it with a visual splendour: the trees are turned into a brighter hue of green, buildings turn wet-darker by a few shades, making for a painting. The sky goes into concealment in the torrential rain; but upon subsequent brightening, it reveals itself like a mademoiselle washed herself clean. The sight of raindrops dancing on leaves and rooftops is deeply entrancing, as is the sound of rain pattering on different surfaces to create a symphony of its own, mixing the hard and the soft, the wet and the once-dry. The parched Earth greedily intakes the water, exuding petrichor, the fragrance of its wetness. Monsoon rains feed the lakes and rivers to sustain diverse life forms. In the profoundly poetic perspective of Henry David Thoreau, “A lake is the landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature. It is earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature. The fluviatile trees next the shore are the slender eyelashes which fringe it, and the wooded hills and cliffs around are its overarching brows.”

Vembanad Lake , in a sombre mood..

But what about the summer preceding the monsoon? If there is one good thing about the searing Indian summer, it must be the mangoes. Each variety has a distinctive character, flavour and signature. When a person sinks his teeth into, and push the palate back on one, it erupts as if it had just been created in all its glory inside the very mouth that is tasting it. 

There can be no winner in a Totapuri-vs-Salem-vs-Sindhoori-vs-Mallika-vs-Banganapalli-vs-Malgova-vs-Alfonso-vs-Neelam-vs-Hemapasand-vs-Kosseri tussle. The names have become fibrous abstractions melting away, giving way to sweet notes, punctuated with shades that have the full-blown, dramatic overdrive charm of a pulp novel magically mixed with subtle, deft tones that lurk in the back like teenage sentiments. End of summer, though welcome, it also is, alas, the end of the affair with fruity Aam. Savouring the last mango of the season – its fragrance of memory mixed with dream, its velvety texture and the perfect tingle of sweetness and tanginess – is an experience that is as palate-worthy and disconcerting, akin to seeing off one’s beloved taking off on a journey. The Aam is off for now, but the names – Alfonso, Amrapali, Ataulfo, Badam, Chausa, Payri, Kesar, Dasheri -, the bright yellow colours and taste linger.

Life is a feast. The question is, are we the one feasting – feasting our eyes and mind upon it, being nourished without diminishing it – or, are we the one being feasted on – being eaten up and eaten away, or eating ourselves from within like hungry ghosts, as we crave more and more and consume more and more and yet have less and less? Do we, when faced with some refreshing view or fact or perspective, approach it with curiosity, hoping to learn, even if it means letting go of some things held to be sacrosanct, or do we reject it as a threat to the world view we have built up, the position we have claimed for ourselves, the cage we have so carefully constructed around us?

Beautiful British Columbia is how the vehicle population captions it on their registration number plates. And it cannot be any truer. As Canada’s western most geographical area situated between the Pacific Ocean and the Rocky Mountains, the province has a diversity featuring rugged landscapes, rocky coastlines, sandy beaches, forests, lakes, barren stretches and grassy plains. British Columbia, or BC in its abbreviation, borders Alberta to the east, the territories of Yukon and Northwest to the north and the US states of Washington, Idaho and Montana to the south with the Pacific Ocean and Alaska to the west. BC has Victoria as its capital and Vancouver, as its largest city at the confluence of the Fraser River and Georgia Strait. Scenic views, climatic clemency, and friendly people create a delightful blend of attributes that makes Vancouver known around the world as both a popular tourist attraction and one of the best, though expensive, places to live. The city recently figured as one of North America’s most promising economic and investment locations of the future in addition to its consistent rating as one of the world’s most sustainable and beautiful cities. Vancouver is the greenest city in Canada according to an independent ongoing urban ecological footprint study; it has a near future goal to become the world’s greenest city.

Port of Vancouver with its container / cruise ships terminals.

Taking off on a direct flight from Delhi, I was in Vancouver in the middle of June this year for an idyll lasting many weeks of sightseeing, rides aboard yacht and ro-ro vessels, spending enjoyable spells at the beaches and walking several evening hours around its spick and span environs inclusive of our salubrious place of stay at Burnaby Heights, soaked in atmospheric air punctuated by floral fragrances. What is so special about Vancouver? One thing that immediately strikes the visitor is its scenic beauty, wide open spaces, well maintained green parks, beaches and lakes. Surrounded by majestic mountains and sparkling waters, alongside glorious rain forests providing an incredible contrast to the modern skyscrapers adorning the city’s skyline. Just over the Lion’s Gate Bridge in Stanley Park is West Vancouver and Lighthouse Park. Here are some of the exquisite views in the tri-city area, with picturesque locations looking back at the city of Vancouver over the water, coastal islands, birds, boats and even whales.

On board Pacific Yacht.

Squamish Nation.

The city takes its name from the Englishman, Captain George Vancouver, who explored the inner harbour of Burrard Inlet in 1792 and gave various places British names. The family name “Vancouver” itself originates from the Dutch “van Coevorden”, denoting somebody from the city of Coevorden, Netherlands. The explorer’s ancestors came to England “from Coevorden”, which is the origin of the name that eventually became “Vancouver”.

The beginnings of the modern city, which was originally named Gastown, grew around the site of a makeshift tavern on the western edges of Hastings Mill that was built on July 1, 1867, and owned by proprietor Captain John Deighton. His garrulous nature earned him the nickname Gassy Jack and the place logically became Gastown. Lively Gastown isknown for its whistling Steam Clock and mix of souvenir shops, indie art galleries and decor stores in Victorian buildings. A trendy food and drink scene includes chic cocktail lounges and restaurants serving everything from gourmet sandwiches to local seafood. The heritage value of its overall architecture saved Gastown from being overrun by redevelopers and commercial exploitation. The city was renamed “Vancouver” in 1886 and the Canadian Pacific transcontinental railway was extended to the city by 1887. The Port of Vancouver, a natural seaport on the Pacific Ocean, became a vital link in the trade between Asia-Pacific, East Asia, Europe and Eastern Canada.

Stanley Park is the city’s first, largest and most serene urban getaway, with its ever-blooming gardens, pristine coastal areas and roughly half a million cedar, fir and hemlock trees living up to its green-space reputation since the last century. The park offers a wide range of unforgettable experiences for all ages, including Canada’s largest aquarium.

In close proximity is the English Bay in the downtown area, also called First Beach, offering facilities for kayaking, scuba diving, beach mats, swimming rafts and beach volleyball. The Stanley Park Seawall, a sought after running and biking route, runs along the eastern side of the beach. An interesting structure at the English Bay is the Inukshuk, a striking rock monument that readily grabs one’s attention. Created by Alvin Kanak, it stands six metres tall and weighs approximately 31,500 kilograms. A plaque near the structure reads: “This ancient symbol of the Inuit culture is traditionally used as a landmark and navigational aid and also represents northern hospitality and friendship. Constructed of grey granite, this monument was commissioned by the Government of the Northwest Territories for its Pavilion at EXPO ’86 and later given to the city of Vancouver. The word “inukshuk” means “in the likeness of a human.” For generations, Inuit have been creating these impressive stone markers on the vast Arctic landscape. Inukshuks serve several functions, including guiding travellers, warning of danger, assisting hunters and marking places of reverence.

The beaches of Vancouver also bear tell-tale indication of its Spanish association, in its name Spanish Banks in commemoration of the 18th century meeting of the English, under George Vancouver, and the Spanish, under Galiano and Valdés. An entire stretch, located between Locarno Beach to the east and the grounds of the University of British Columbia to the west, forming a series of beaches carry the name Spanish Banks. These beaches are backed by grassy fields, which make them popular for walks, family gatherings, picnics, soccer and volleyball games. There is a neatly laid out bike path next to a walking path that runs parallel to the water. Spanish Banks is best known for its low tide flats. While swimming is possible at Spanish Bank East, skimboarding and kitesurfing are more popular activities at Spanish Bank West. We spent a balmy afternoon on the 25th June picnicking on the grassy stretches alongside Spanish Banks Beach. The park was yet not crowded. As the afternoon wore down, the crowd started building up and a group of families settled close to our tent. Soon they brought out a variety of drums, that looked like a percussion ensemble, and set it into a drum circle. A crowd gathered around the drum circle as they enthralled onlookers playing up a variety of rhythm patterns. Apparently the rhythm worked its way into the minds and bodies of the crowd. A girl promptly waltzes into the circle matching steps with the beat; as if on cue, other shaking hips and legs too join in to further enliven the scene. Encouraged by spectators, the performance continued but faded out from our view as we moved on with our agenda for rest of the evening.

Canada Place at night hours with its fabric shaped roof sails illuminated (as seen from Pacific Yacht).

Another iconic landmark is the Canada Place, a whitish building owned by the Vancouver Fraser Port Authority, accommodating the Vancouver Convention Centre, the Pan Pacific Hotel, World Trade Centre, the Port Office together with the Cruise Ship Terminal, and the virtual flight ride called Fly Over Canada that affords the visitor a close-to-the-real experience of major attractions across Canada. Being the starting point for cruises to Alaska, the cruise terminal handles a heavy traffic of regularly scheduled pleasure-cruise vessels. It is also the world’s fourth largest cruise terminal. In keeping with its maritime character, the exterior of Canada Place is covered by fabric roofs resembling sails that are colorfully illuminated during night hours.

The highlight of our Canadian idyll was a three hour nocturnal sailing from the Bayshore Marina on board the Pacific Yacht on the 30^th June 2023. It was a real jamboree in the company of family and friends in a spirit of celebration aimed at cementing relationships and creating memories for a lifetime.

The ride on the Pacific Yacht neatly sequenced into a drive to the BC Ferries terminal on the 1^st July for on-boarding to ro-ro vessel Queen of Cowichan that took us on a two hour voyage to Vancouver Island. Located off the coast of southern BC, the Vancouver Island is surrounded by Pacific Ocean and separated from mainland BC by the Straits of Georgia, Johnstone and Queen Charlotte. Ferry and Air service connect it to Vancouver BC.

The Vancouver Island is renowned for its rugged coastline, giant trees, and abundant wildlife. The stunning natural environs and mild climate make for spectacular hiking, biking, camping and paddling activities. Quite simply, it is a nature and outdoor lover’s paradise sprawled across 460 kilometers to qualify as the largest island on the pacific coast of North America and one of the world’s largest islands. The area boasts of three national parks and over hundred provincial and regional parks, all well worth exploring. The island is home to Victoria, the capital of BC and a veritable recreation of cherished features of British urban life. Our resort destination here was Tigh-Na-Mara, located in picturesque Parksville. Nestled on the eastern shores of Vancouver Island, not too far from Nanaimo and Victoria, Parksville provides fascinating views of the Strait of Georgia and the surrounding mountain ranges and some of the Island’s best beaches stretching across several kilometers of shoreline affording ample space for all – from beachcombers and kite flyers to ornithologists, sandcastle enthusiasts and more.

As planet Earth’s deepest and largest of ocean basins covering approximately sixty-three million square miles and containing more than half of the Earth’s free water, the Pacific has always held a limitless appeal to my pantheistic sensibilities. I did not want to fritter away time plonking myself into the shallows and getting confined to a particular waterfront, keener as I was to explore as much of vast expanse of the Pacific spread out before me in the form of one of its straits.

Sunrise over Pacific waters (view from our resort cottage).
The watery expanse of late afternoon and all through the previous night hours started receding in the morning with the tide ebbing away, exposing several kilometers of seabed. The incredible rhythm of the ocean’s changing tides is so powerful that it can cause entire landforms to submerge and reemerge with each flow and ebb. I become witness to what appears as land for several morning hours being magically transformed into an expanse of neritic water by late afternoon. While witnessing the slow transformation, I promptly utilize the tidal window for exploring as much of the ocean floor as possible. Keeping an alert eye on the sheet of water that seemed to be hugging the far horizon, I keep walking at a slow pace, concurrently observing the seabed comprising varieties of sand, clay, silt and gravel.

Morning view of Beachfront at ebb tide.

Watching the sky at dawn is a sensory feast. Not only does it mark the night segueing into the day, but it also denotes the beginning of another pearl-string of moments into our lives. Dawn also has the moon, stars and other celestial objects gradually fading away or being subsumed by the emerging sun’s brilliance, serving the reminder that many things present at all times can be perceived only some of the time. Celestially, dawn is furling of the night and, at the same time, unfurling of the day. For a tellurian like me, a morning walk on the dampness of the seabed presented a similar spectacle, facilitated by sea waters ebbing away into the great distance, providing, in the process, a rare sanctuary where one could cozy up on solitude as a coveted luxury, lolling around in the open, liberated space in which to truly relish the pleasures of being alone, feeling the wet and muddy sand crunching gently under the bare feet, occasionally stamping on sharp edges of a shell or coral and retracting, and then wading through a soothing wave in the shallow patches, all alone in spirit, untethered from the quotidian world’s incessant demands and distractions, as if couched within the comforts and vastness of Nature’s womb. It offered a tranquil setting for introspection and self-discovery, shorn off the layers of social niceties one is constrained to practice in the living and working spaces of domestic and vocational lives. Time seemed to attain an elasticity, expanding and contracting at will; minutes stretched into hours as I relaxed, lending a listening ear to the water’s pampering burbles and spume. It was deeply experiential where, I, for one, felt like a child toddling on the ocean floor of a strait of the mighty Pacific, feeling his way amidst the corals, tiny crabs and other marine organisms.

My surreal state at this juncture is in a trice fazed by a feeling of apprehension: what if a giant wave suddenly starts advancing at a menacing pace? The ocean floor can be enticing with the waters beckoning from several miles afar; it can be beautiful beyond words and description; it can also be misleading and hazardous in case the tide unexpectedly turns back faster that I can head to the safety of the shores. It is just not my realm. The realization dawns that we are but visitors in a domain we are ill-suited to explore, but instinctively drawn to admire.

My spirit wants to linger; but physical limitations keep tugging me back. I head to the security of the shoreline, to spend the remainder of my resort time with family, new relatives and friends, and set myself up for the return voyage the next day on board ro-ro vessel Queen of Oak Bay to mainland Vancouver BC.