From Here

The reduced footprints unleashed a burst of life. Squirrels roamed freely, butterflies flitted, and fish leaped. Birds—ducks, cormorants—danced for their prey, their excitement palpable. Stray dogs, or “adopted” ones, rested on concrete steps, secure in the quiet. Life was coming alive.

What makes HSV so special to me is how he connected different worlds in Kannada literature. He was a bridge between the pre-Navya (pre-modern) and post-Navya (modern) movements, blending the classical grace of poets like Pampa and Kumaravyasa with the fresh energy of modern Kannada poetry. His work in the Bhavageete genre—those lyrical, soul-stirring poems set to music—touched hearts across generations. He saw poetry as something natural, like a tree bursting into bloom. “Whe

Nikhil’s story, while heartbreaking, is not an isolated tragedy—it’s a symbol of a much larger crisis. There are umpteen numbers in the corporate world facing similar battles, their struggles hidden behind closed office doors. From tech startups to multinational corporations, countless young professionals endure toxic work environments, battling stress, isolation, and despair in silence. Nikhil represents the untold stories of those who feel crushed under the weight of modern

Let’s challenge schools to embody the ideals they proclaim. An elephant may be innocent, but education demands strength, purpose, and truth. Let’s ensure that the names we celebrate reflect the reality we seek for our children.

Now don’t get me wrong—I understand emotion. We are a nation that bleeds sentiment, and sometimes it feels good to wear it. But I worry that we are not yet a mature society, one that chooses long-term value over instant validation.

The thunder may roar, but it is the quiet rain of truth and statesmanship that will sustain India’s growth. Let us move forward with clarity, unity, and pride in our nation’s strength

The priest chirped about soul-cleansing, but I bet the flock missed the metaphor, too busy chasing social shiny bits. I mumbled the Gayatri mantra in Kiran’s right ear, wondering why the left got no love.

Kamsa’s dead now—Krishna saw to that. Kill the blind beliefs in your time, too.