A Father’s Promise - India’s Path to Progress and Peace

Last evening, as the golden sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky over our Bengaluru home in hues of orange and pink, my ten-year-old son, Vivek, sat cross-legged on the balcony, his curious eyes fixed on me. “Papa, Santosh,” he began, his voice tinged with wonder, “why is everyone saying India is behind? Behind whom? And why do we need to catch up? Can’t we just be happy here, with our festivals and stories?”

His questions hit me like a gentle breeze, stirring both pride and concern. As I looked at Vivek, his innocent face reflecting the glow of a nation brimming with potential, I realized this was more than a father-son chat. It was a chance to explain to him—and to all of you, my readers—what’s happening in India, where we stand in the world, and what we must demand of ourselves and our leaders to shape a future that honors both progress and peace.

The World’s Race and India’s Place

“Vivek,” I began, pulling him closer, “imagine the world as a giant playground. Some kids—like the USA, Japan, and China—have shiny new toys: superfast computers, robots, and spaceships. They’ve been building these for years, spending lots of money and time. India, our home, has toys too, but they’re not as shiny yet. We’re learning to make them, but it takes time.”

Vivek’s brows furrowed. “How far behind are we, Papa?”

I explained that in things like artificial intelligence or super-speed internet, we’re about 10 to 15 years behind countries like the USA or Japan, and maybe 5 to 10 years behind China. “It’s like they started running a race long before us,” I said. “They spend much more on inventing new things—America spends about 3.5% of its money on research, China about 2.4%, but India only 0.65%. That’s like them having ten paintbrushes to create new ideas, while we have just one.”

“But Papa,” Vivek interrupted, his first big question bubbling up, “what are our strengths? Why do we need to catch up with them?”

India’s Strengths and the Call to Catch Up

I smiled, ruffling his hair. “Vivek, India is like a young, strong tree with deep roots and new branches reaching for the sky. Our strengths are amazing. We have millions of young people like you—half our country is under 30! You’re all learning, dreaming, and ready to build. We’re world leaders in software—companies like TCS and Infosys help the whole world run their computers. And our digital systems, like UPI, let us pay for dosas or toys with a tap on our phones, faster than many countries!”

I told him about our space program, how ISRO sent a spacecraft to Mars for less money than it takes to make a big movie. “And our hearts, Vivek—our culture, our stories, our festivals—they make us unique. They give us strength to dream big.”

“But why catch up?” he pressed. I took a deep breath. “Because, my son, the world’s moving fast. If we don’t learn to make those shiny toys—better medicines, cleaner energy, smarter machines—others will decide the rules of the playground. We might have to buy their toys at high prices or follow their ways. Catching up means we get to choose our future, protect our land, and help others, like how we share our digital ideas with countries in Africa.”

Vivek nodded slowly, but his eyes sparkled with another thought. “Papa, that sounds like a lot of running. Why bother with this race? Can’t we just live quietly, be happy, and grow as better people? You know, like meditating or helping each other?”

The Rat Race vs. Tranquility: Finding Balance

His second question was profound, cutting through the noise of ambition. I paused, gazing at the stars now twinkling above. “You’re right, Vivek. Chasing others can feel like a never-ending race. And our land has taught the world about peace—think of Gandhi, or the sages who meditated in the Himalayas. Evolving as human beings, living with kindness and tranquility, is just as important.”

“But here’s the thing,” I continued, “the world isn’t always peaceful. If we only sit quietly, others might take our resources or push us aside. We need to be strong—not just in our hearts, but in our minds and tools. Imagine if we made clean energy so cheap that every village had light, or medicines so good that no one got sick. That strength lets us live in peace, help others, and still meditate under the stars.”

Vivek tilted his head. “So, we do both? Run and rest?”

“Exactly!” I said. “Balance is our way. We work hard to build a strong India—better schools, more inventions, cleaner rivers—but we also nurture our souls. We celebrate Diwali with joy, but we also ask why some kids don’t have books. We honor our rituals, but we question blind beliefs that hold us back, like thinking only old ways are best.”

Our Responsibilities and Priorities

As Vivek leaned against me, I felt a weight—the weight of a nation that sometimes sleeps too soundly, lulled by comfort or distracted by rituals that don’t always serve us. “Vivek,” I said, “our politicians and people need to wake up. Many of our leaders don’t see the world clearly. They focus on votes or old arguments, not on building the future. And some of us citizens, we love our traditions but forget to ask questions. We can’t be lazy or blind.”

I told him what we must demand from our politicians:

1. Invest in the Future: Push them to spend more—say, 2% of our money—on research and innovation. We need new ideas, from AI to green energy, born in India.

2. Educate Everyone: Ask for better schools and colleges, especially for science and skills, so kids like you can invent tomorrow’s toys.

3. Bridge the Gap: Demand fast internet and power in every village, so no one is left behind.

4. Clean Up Corruption: Tell them to stop wasting money and focus on real progress, not just speeches.

5. Think Global: Urge them to partner with countries like the USA or Japan to learn and share, so we grow faster.

“And us, Vivek?” I added. “We citizens have work too. We must learn, question, and vote for leaders who dream big. We love our gods and festivals, but let’s not cling to beliefs that stop us—like thinking girls can’t be engineers or that only city kids deserve good schools.”

A Promise to Vivek and India

Vivek yawned, his eyelids drooping. “Papa, will we catch up? Will India be strong and peaceful?”

I hugged him tight. “Yes, my son. We’re not just catching up—we’re carving our own path. In 15 years, when you’re my age, I want you to live in an India where every home has light, every mind has knowledge, and every heart has peace. We’ll run the race, but we’ll also stop to smell the jasmine, tell stories, and help each other.”

As I carried Vivek to bed, I looked out at the city lights, a reminder of India’s pulse—vibrant, uneven, but alive. My readers, this is our call. Let’s shake off laziness and blind beliefs. Let’s demand more from our leaders and ourselves. Let’s build an India that leads in technology and tranquility, not because we want to beat others, but because we want to lift everyone.

Join me in this promise to Vivek, to India, to the future. Ask questions. Vote wisely. Dream boldly. And let’s balance the race with the rest, the ambition with the soul.

What will you do today to make this India real?

—Santosh, a father dreaming for his son and his nation