Nostalgia #4

Nostalgia #4

It wasn’t just the classes I took that shaped me. It was everything else: those impromptu corridor chats, the friends—both mischievous and sincere—my benchmates, project partners, the lunch breaks, the industrial visits, the extra classes, and all the mistakes I made along the way. My circle included Keats, Ayub Guhan, Sandy, Jithesh, Mukhs, Amina, Gowri, and each of the 42 classmates who walked this journey with me.

I was lucky enough to have a wonderful bunch of seniors—Sathya, Nishil Bhayya, Sho Ka, Ravi Shankar, Tharani Ka, Shyam Sundar, Anand Shankars, Ezhil, Gomz Na, and so many more—who often tried to give me a piece of their mind. They helped me in countless ways, though managing me must have been a challenge! Then came the “little buddies,” my juniors, whose love was overwhelming—Niranja, Prabhu, Geetha Rani, Praveen, Sriram, Ranjith, Rowdy, Gomz Mach, Charles, Dhivya, Asokan, and many others. They showered me with so much affection, and I thoroughly enjoyed their company.

Spending time with PSS Sir was another highlight—he was a perfect role model in many respects, a flawless leader, and a vibrant soul. Just one encounter with his contagious smile could make anyone’s day. Then there were sessions with Dr. K.T., our principal, who taught us invaluable lessons in time management. He kept everything simple yet remarkable. From him, I learned important human values. And I can’t leave out N.C.B. Sir, our placement coordinator—had it not been for his contagious enthusiasm and wisdom, I wouldn’t have mastered the art of clearing interviews.

Even though I’m sad that the “heaven” called college life is over, and I’m no longer a student but an alumnus of KSRCT, I’m equally happy and satisfied with how things turned out. Those four years made me feel a hundred times wiser.

Now my status has shifted from “alumnus” to “distinguished alumnus,” or whatever label comes next. I’ll get calls from Prof. Karthik, the department alumni coordinator, asking if I’m free to attend meetups. Without hesitation—if there were any lingering egos, they’d vanish—I’ll smile with pride and joy and say, “Yes, I’d love to!” That’s the bond I share with KSR-DBT.

From here on, I’m an ex-student of KSRCT-DBT, Class of 2011. All I can do now is support the college’s growth and celebrate every success my alma mater achieves. One day, I can take my kids there and say, “My heaven once existed right here.” But I can’t be a student anymore.

DOT

Nostalgia #3

Tummy twists and turns—a strange, indescribable feeling. I was about to say goodbye to a place that had housed me, shaped me, and watched me grow. I was preparing to shed tears for the walls that witnessed my laughter, absorbed my sadness, and gently wiped away my tears.

Those days had been long, short, fun, and extraordinary—all at once. I made friends who stuck around, while some faded away. We laughed, cried, argued, supported each other, and roamed around causing mischief. We escaped trouble, got scolded, researched and made new friends. We dozed off in class (sometimes quite literally), and saw our campus grow from empty hallways to bustling crowds. We invaded the deserted canteen, the unoccupied labs, the silent classrooms, and the hidden seminar halls. With proud grins, we flaunted our identity from the Biotech Department, acting as if we were the only ones on earth doing real research—and then actually proving it. We felt privileged to have such an incredible set of teachers, sometimes even competing to be one professor’s “pet” or another’s “favorite.” Those four years felt as though they would last forever. “We” was the operative word—the 41 musketeers who made my life at KSRCT truly meaningful.

Suddenly, I realized I had grown up. On that last day, I understood that the Department of Biotechnology at KSRCT was more than a mother figure in my life. My eyes literally “sweated” when I stepped into the Microbiology lab and laminar flow chamber for the very last time. I knew I’d experienced the best years of my life in those four years. I felt tears rolling from my cheeks to my chin when the Microbiology lab was locked up for the final time; I recall asking my junior friend, probably Prabhu, to lock it only after I left. The thought of no longer debating science ideas with my HoD, having no more doubt-clearing sessions or scoldings, no more fun—was overwhelming.

Had it not been for that awesome group of faculty, I’d be worse off today. Without those four amazing years at KSRCT-DBT, I wouldn’t be writing these lines right now. I wouldn’t have learned what a real lab looks like, become a scientist, or discovered how research really works. I wouldn’t be able to offer you any “piece of mind,” wouldn’t have started my career at a biotech FMCG, and wouldn’t have the precious friends or the rich trove of memories I do now.

If it weren’t for Punieetha Ma’am, I’d never have learned to handle people, nor would I have dived into informatics. She was more than just a teacher—mentor, guide, confidante, philosopher—any wonderful adjective fits her. Dear Ma’am, let me say it now: I love you for everything you’ve done for me. I’m still proud to be connected to you in whatever small way.

Without Kalpana ma'am , I never would have got a chance to understand experimentation, nor would I have known anything about the importance of documentation. She was , again, more than a teacher. She helped me stay grounded, she was strict, stoic with quite a temperament. But, now looking back, I know that "strictness", that "temperament" shaped me into a compassionate, well human being. To you, my dear Kappu Ma'am, I owe it - every step of my growth and life. I am just hoping to have you in every step of my life, till eternity!

To you, our CA sir a.k.a G.G Sir who had the toughest times with us being our advisor and we took him for granted. Those raiding of shops for a birthday card, and celebrating every classmate's birthday, made us friends. With you, it was more fun and frolic, and you became one of us. Your wedding times and when you brought Mrs GG when she said about all of us, we felt so so special!

To you, Arul sir a.k.a M.A. you taught me patience, practicality, and handling emotions in a perfect way. Your life lessons, helps me every single time, i face a strife and Gosh, I wonder how you handled us - all the 42, so well! I still remember, when you said, "In a class, there can be 4 or 5 different opinions, but with you guys I have 42 different opinions and I dunno whose side I had to pick! So, here I go giving my 43rd opinion!" Thanks sir for making memories with us!

Without Anitha Ma’am , I’d have no clue how to conduct a proper observation. Without SRS Ma’am or Ramya (Jee) Ma’am, I wouldn’t know how to handle situations diplomatically and remain unbiased. Nadhiya Ma’am’s PAGE work deserves special mention. Balki Sir taught me the significance of detailed paperwork—it was an eye-opener. Mohan Sir’s math sessions shed light on mathematical modeling, which is now one of my favorite interests (my CV runs pages on that!). Srinivash Sir helped me develop tolerance and confidence. Arutselvi ma'am, attending conferences with you and making you my official photographer was fun. Without LGM Divya Ma'am and Janani maam, I would have never stepped out of classes to perform on those stages. Thanks, P.P sir, for heading the department with so much to handle on your plates! 

I was also something of a favorite in the Science and Humanities department, teeming with Einsteins, Ramanujams, Mendeleevs, Shakespeares, and T.S. Eliots. I absolutely loved my chats with Radhakrishnan Sir, Mohan Sir, Mani Sir, R.P. Sir from Chemistry, Palaniappan Sir (AP sir), Geetha Ma’am, Mallika Ma’am, C.C. Sir, Vidhya Ma'am and so many others. AP sir and Geetha maam, helped me to grow even more fond of the English literature. They took time to read my sciblings those days and offered me good pieces of advice. Even though only a few of them actually handled my classes, nobody there felt like a stranger.  Or maybe I was a stranger to none! Without the S&H team, I might have lost my sense of humor and all those quality hours of sharing ideas. I only keep wishing that, I stay in touch with all of you till eternity. The time spent with you all are so less, but I will carry on the learnings from you for,  " அறிவை தருபவர் ஆசிரியர். அன்போடு, பண்பும், வாழ்கைவியல் கற்றுத்தருபவர் ஆசான் " 

But it wasn’t only about classes…

(…to be continued…)

Nostalgia #2

The first year featured an array of foundational subjects—true “starters.” We tackled applied physics with Mohan Sir, gained communication skills from Radhakrishnan Sir, studied chemistry applications under Parimam, dipped our toes into programming with Punieetha Ma’am, and explored electrical engineering basics taught by Krithika Ma’am. Mathematics became manageable thanks to Mohan Sir, Mani Sir guided us through nanoscience, Padmanaban Sir handled Environmental Science, and EGD was taught by some mechanical faculties (whose names, frankly, I still don’t recall!). These courses were just the appetizer of our four-year experience.

Then came the “main course.” We dealt with strain after strain—both in the lab and in our lecturers’ patience—while learning microbial staining from BB Ma’am. Ramya Ma’am introduced us to maternal inheritance and its biological significance. SRS Ma’am, with her imposing assignments, delved into the structural and chemical aspects of biology. Nadhiya Ma’am broke down DNA duplications and replications at a molecular level, while Punieetha Ma’am showed us how to apply technology and computing to biotech. Instrumentation classes came from Premalatha Ma’am, and Poongothai Ma’am taught us about plant cell culture. We explored equilibrium, enzyme kinetics, and thermodynamics with Kappu Ma’am. Then it was on to animal cell biology with Selvi Ma’am, followed by learning how such cells could turn cancerous from Subbiah Sir. Anita Ma’am took us on a culinary science journey (or “foodie sessions”), and Arul Sir, Ramesh Sir, Gnanavel Sir, and Srinivash Sir introduced us to reactor engineering—throwing in a neutral feedback loop to challenge our minds. Our HoD stepped in to refine our process engineering prowess, and after we had an ethics chat with Balki Sir, Arul Vel Sir gave us a taste of bio-entrepreneurship. Rounding out the list, Muththiah Sir guided us through clinical aspects.

The full-course meal concluded with “fortune cookies”—practicals, projects, mini-projects, reports, and theses. Oh my, the references, results, observations, and records—it was quite the marathon.

For dessert, we had seminars, conferences, in-plant trainings, symposiums, and all those academic extras. We also enjoyed a few “gala sherbets” in the form of annual day celebrations, cultural fests, and those fun industry visits we called “tours.”

This was a period when we were barely out of our teens, squirming in classroom desks, swaggering through corridors whenever juniors passed by—only to shrink back if a senior strolled by and put an abrupt halt to our bravado. Sometimes, we wanted to storm out of the department altogether because it felt like “too much.” Saturdays and Sundays made us lazy; scorching heat on the quadrangle tanned our skin; dozing off in class got us scolded; and we snacked openly despite strict rules. In truth, we turned the classroom into a place for almost everything except attending lectures—trying out sorority-like outfits, formal wear for placements, lab coats, and fancy hairstyles.

An “organic, healthy feast” awaited our batch in the form of our college going autonomous—and we were the first group under that system. Abrupt changes took all of us by surprise, and it seemed like nobody really knew what was going on. Even politics had a hand in the shifting educational landscape, altering affiliations and the university name itself. We couldn’t tell if we were affiliated, autonomous, or stand-alone. Were we on a semester system, a trimester system? Class committee meetings, Board of Studies discussions, and interactions with HoDs and the principal left us puzzled by all the new “curriculum changes.” Out of the blue, we’d be asked to choose an “elective.”

Eventually, we navigated all those hoops. After writing the final theory paper, we experienced a giddy sense of having accomplished something we’d once thought impossible—graduating with no arrears, and some of us even securing distinction. I had that moment of awe, finishing exams, going off to the movies, celebrating at theme parks, and hanging out with my besties. I don’t recall a sigh of relief upon leaving college. Instead, a sudden fear crept in—a void, a feeling of loneliness took root. My stomach felt like it was knotting itself in circles, a strange sensation of…

(…to be continued…)

Nostalgia #1

Nostalgia #1

When you distance yourself from the chaos of the outside world and gaze deep—deeeep—within, you realize how those four years of college life as a grad student filled the pages of your story with soooo much. Call it a throwback session or a moment of reminiscence, but every time you think of those fun-filled undergrad days, you’re flooded with mixed emotions.

I can hardly believe it’s been this long—about four years since I stepped out of the heaven where I spent my eight-semester stay at the Department of Biotechnology, K.S. Rangasamy College of Technology. How I wish I could reverse time and relive some of the best moments there! My memories include an abundance of pleasant experiences, a fair share of scoldings (for my mischief!), numerous leaves (for health reasons!), a string of mini-projects, a double string of conferences and awards, endless assignments (no escape!), countless internals and retests, a dozen symposiums, and too many guest lectures to emcee.

Despite the time that’s passed, I vividly recall the first day I walked into the college to check out the facilities. There was this glimmer of pride as I set foot in the biotech department, where I met our then-Director, Dr. Kannan—a man in his 60s but practically radiating youth. He welcomed me with a gentle smile and immediately began talking about my passion: Biotechnology. It was a thrilling experience, especially when he introduced me to the faculty. Everything felt great!

During those initial, ice-breaking moments, certain people stuck in my mind—especially Prof. Dr. Punieetha Ma’am and AsP. Mohan G., who were introduced to me as senior faculty members. I remember offering them a shy smile, all the while thinking about how I’d soon be attending their lectures. Then, as I toured the labs, marveling at the equipment and possibilities, I thought, Yes, this is it. I’m going to be a graduate student here!

Before joining, I barely knew the institution, but from the very minute I stepped into the School of Biotechnology, I felt a strong sense of ownership and pride—like I truly belonged. I realized I was entering a campus brimming with people who would form my community for the next four years, a community steeped in academics and research. Sure, I was nervous and had a “butterflies in the stomach” feeling, but I also sensed I’d grow, stumble, prune, and eventually flourish in this environment.

Many individuals tolerated my silly pranks, patiently guided me, or even lost their cool when I pushed them too far. Yet I always felt cherished, never once feeling away from home. Back then, Facebook was still somewhat new, Orkut was our go-to social platform, we used to scrap each other’s profiles, and group texting was made cheaper by rate-cutter recharges. We had the freedom to share entire lesson summaries via SMS, plus random meetups with conference friends, batchmates, college mates, and hostel roommates. Looking back, I’m so grateful for all of it—life would’ve been harder otherwise.

Personally, I had some truly spectacular times, and I also had my share of miserable flops. Along the way, I crossed paths with many people: some became good friends, a few led to pointless clashes, some came with fleeting crushes, others for random connections, and a handful grew into deep, lasting friendships. More than once, I got in trouble for being “the naughtiest of the naughty,” pulling off stunts that were “the craziest of the crazy.” But that was my life—a medley of everyday adventures and mischief.

(…to be continued…)

Musically Yours - Srinivas(Singer)

So, for each of us, music is an inseparable part of life in one way or another. Sometimes we even create social media posts for our loved ones saying, “When I miss you, I listen to that song that reminds me of you—and then I miss you even more!” That’s how profoundly music shapes our experiences. Many of us have special keepsakes that make us feel proud to have lived during certain iconic individuals’ eras. I’m no exception, and I consider it a blessing just to have existed in the times of such great, greater, and greatest people. My list includes the “Musical Synonym” Shri M.S. Viswanathan, the brilliant scientist Prof. Umaa Shanker Raman, the mandolin maestro Amarar Srinivas, cricket legend Sachin (though I barely follow the sport, I’ll watch it for him), the incomparable poet Amarar Vaali, the ever-lively Vinay Ji, the remarkable Sujatha Sir, my all-time favorite “magical Stellar Musician” Srinivas Sir—known to me as Vasu Uncle—the celestial voice of Shri K.J. Yesudas, the soulful Chitra Ma, the splendid scientist Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam, the writer of humankind Muthulakshmi Amma, the “Memory Master” Dr. Reddy, and so on. You may wonder why I haven’t put figures like H.H. Ravishankar or H.H. Parthi Sai Ram at the top. My apologies, but my limited spiritual knowledge has never let me write much about them, so I’ve placed them somewhere lower on my list.

Srinivas - 100 Expression - 1

Let’s return to the “magical stellar Musician,” Srinivas Doraiswamy—or Vasu Uncle, as I affectionately call him. He kindly allowed me to address him informally, never insisting on “Sir.” He’s truly a marvelous figure in the music industry. Each time I hear him sing, I think he should have been born with a tag reading, “Musically Yours!” His soulful voice infuses listeners with a luminous energy. It’s pure bliss to hear him sing “Kadhal thaaimai irandu mattum, baaram enbadhey ariyaadhu!” or to smile at “Undhan Nizhalaruge oivugal eduthiduven…Idhu Kaadhal illai…Idhu Kaamam illai.” You can’t help shedding tears of pride when listening to “Mouname Unnidam, antha mounam thane azhagu.” This engineer-turned-musician has perfected every chord, pitch, and note so profoundly that you can’t help but fall in love with his music. If music were a religion, I’d listen to Srinivas every day.

Srinivas - 100 Expression - 2

All of us have big dreams. Some of us never dare to chase them; others knock on the door of our dreams but don’t wait for that door to open. Still others, hurt by the thorns along the path, give up and merely daydream about what could have been. By contrast, Srinivas must have realized slippers exist for a reason. When thorns pricked his feet on his path, he persisted, determined to follow his dream. I always marvel at how his mind acts like a perfectly efficient reactor, generating a positive feedback loop under all conditions, offering us a flawless musical feast from t = 0 to t → ∞. (Yes, I’m referencing the chemical engineering and heat transfer principles from my college days.) He’s no ordinary man, that much is certain.

I read everything I can about this man who merges seamlessly with music, and I’m always struck by a glow of pride. Every interview I’ve watched or read shows him to be humble, down-to-earth, and wonderfully warm. I’ve even experienced his kindness firsthand—he has replied to or “liked” every little Facebook post of mine. Such simple, humane gestures speak volumes about him.

Srinivas - 100 Expression - 3

There’s nothing quite like having a companion to enjoy Vasu Uncle’s music with, and I’m lucky to have an entire circle of friends who are fans. At the top of that list is my aunt, a sixty-five-year-old who loves hearing his songs nonstop. She can’t resist grabbing her phone to call me, shrieking in delight, “Hey Gaana, Sri is singing on ### channel—turn it on!” Without hesitation, I’ll snatch the TV remote from my bewildered dad (who probably thinks I’ve lost my mind). My aunt and I will stay on the phone until the program ends; even the commercial breaks are filled with our excited commentary about his gorgeous expressions. One of the most unforgettable interviews he did was with M.J. Shriram. Watching Srinivas sing, you can’t decide whether to listen or to watch; his facial expressions themselves are captivating. It’s a feast for the ears, eyes, and soul.

Srinivas - 100 Expression - 4

I was around ten years old when Uyire was released. That’s when I first fell under the spell of Srinivas’s enchanting voice. Back then, I barely understood the lyrics; it was simply the pleasure of hearing such a fantastic voice. “Google God” or “Yahoo Upa Devatha” wasn’t an option, so we relied on All India Radio, “Pepsi Ungal Choice,” or local channels like “Manam Virumbudhey.” My grandmother—who had her own eclectic music tastes—would also join me, though she referred to him as “Srinivasan” (don’t ask me why!). She’d help me call the TV host to request his songs, and then she’d sit by my side until they finished playing.

Another partner in my musical obsession is my best buddy, Keats. I “infected” her with what we call the “Srinivas Syndrome” (and several other syndromes, to be honest). Whenever she has access to the internet, she heads straight to YouTube, searches for “Srinivas performances live,” “Srinivas songs,” “Timeless Classics,” and so on. She downloads them all just to flaunt her collection the next day—usually far surpassing mine.

Before Keats, my partner in mid/high school was Kavi, a fellow member of our “Srinivas Crush Club.” (We were young; forgive the phrasing!) Every recess would be spent chattering about Srinivas, trying to imitate how he sang this or that song, or debating who had the right lyrics. “Azhage Sugama” was the tune I always banked on, netting me plenty of chocolates. No math formula ever stuck to my brain quite the way that song did.

Srinivas - 100 Expression - 5!!!

Even now, each new album or track he releases can move me to tears—tears of pride. Some people we don’t know personally, yet they seem very close to our hearts. We offer them unconditional love, keep them in our daily prayers, and hold them in immense respect, whether or not they’re aware of it. For me, Srinivas is one of those rare people. Perhaps God realized not everyone can express love through music, or maybe even God needed someone to voice it, and thus Srinivas came into being. Early in his career, his name might not have caused an instant spark, but these days, just hearing “Srinivas” calls up a rush of adjectives in your mind: melodious, ardent lover of music, gifted musician, and so on.

If you’re feeling nostalgic or if this piece has given you the “Srinivas Syndrome,” grab your headphones, click on any of his songs, close your eyes, and you’ll be directly connected to a state of pure bliss.

Cheers and happy aMusi(KI)ng!

P.S. I’m not a “professional” writer, but I definitely write with passion. If acknowledgments are due, they go to the hero of this piece—Mr. Srinivas Doraiswamy—whose musical journey has given me so much to feel and to express. I also dedicate this post to all his fans across the globe.

(Pictures are snapshots from the Airtel Super Singer grand finale telecast on Vijay TV.)        

       

      

             

Fossilized Memoris

Every one of us bemoans those distant childhood days that seem so far behind us. Childhood has become a treasure trove of memories, and sometimes, in the midst of our monotonous routines, we manage to evoke that nostalgia. It’s a momentary escape when our overtaxed brains stumble onto recollections buried deep in our own secret gardens, where the memories bloom, and we inhale their sweetness, realizing how precious those times were.

We recall waking to our mother’s gentle voice, which quickly turned into a raised one when we wouldn’t budge. Our father would step in for a morning kiss, and we’d pull him close, clinging to that warmth just to snatch a few more seconds of sleep. Eventually, we’d give in, finding our mother busy in the sacred place we call the kitchen, preparing something that smelled positively divine. We’d creep up like a stealthy cat, give her a hug, and earn a mild scolding for interrupting her “pure” cooking.

Then came the daily ritual: rummaging for socks and shoes, fetching our crisply pressed uniforms from the wardrobe, and counting the days till we could wear our next “color dress.” We’d double-check our homework, hoping the math or geography teacher would be absent, and praying the P.E. teacher was healthy enough for class—nobody wanted a missed games period!

We’d grab our bike—or cycle—handlebars, pedal as fast as possible, and spot the watchman inching the school gate closed as the first bell rang for assembly. We’d flash our brightest smile, offer a polite “Namaste,” and slip through the narrow gap with our heavy bag and sports cycle. Parking it somewhat deeper inside (to pretend we arrived earlier), we’d drop our book bag and lunch bag in a random ground-floor classroom, then line up for assembly with our classmates, trying to appear like the ever-punctual “good kid.” The head girl would acknowledge us with a smile, effectively marking our presence. Any lingering fatigue from the bike ride would vanish under the cool breeze from the yellow-flowered tree, swaying at the edge of the grounds. We’d smile with gratitude at its topmost blossoms.

“School, stand at ease! School, attention!” came the school pupil leader’s voice. We’d obey like robots, singing those lengthy prayer songs, half-closing our eyes. The news would be read in multiple languages; we’d hear various thoughts of the day, all while fretting over the lunch bag we’d left in that unfamiliar classroom. Meanwhile, the head girl, ever-vigilant, might catch us chatting and note our names for an imposition on the Big Black Board. After the formalities, we’d recite the Indian pledge, hands on our hearts, and hear the school captain announce class attendance: “VI A—Boys present: 21, Girls present: 23…” all the way up to “XII C—Boys present: 9, Girls present: 6.” The assembly ended with the chant of “Hare Rama Hare Rama, Rama Rama Hare Hare,” followed by a cheerful clapping routine. Finally dismissed, we’d head back to class, where our closest friends created the memories that now seem etched in our minds forever.

In the classroom, we’d listen halfheartedly, doze off, get caught whispering, and commit every kind of harmless mischief. On Mondays and Wednesdays, we had evening drills—an excuse to play matches with seniors or just watch friends sprint around the grounds. Tuesdays brought “special classes” we tried to skip (often unsuccessfully), and Thursdays and Saturdays featured co-curricular activities. Some of us showed our “classical” dance moves then, while on Fridays, bhajans took center stage. Though not everyone was deeply religious, we’d still walk into the prayer room to watch our buddies perform and to savor the “Maha Naivedhya Prasadam”—delicious sundals. Our friends’ little hands would beat percussion instruments, and their sweet voices would sing, “Radha Rasikka Vara Raasa Vihaara…” Those 45-minute sessions felt like a feast, whether you were the lead singer or simply soaking in the atmosphere.

Then there were those geography exams where we’d stare at squiggly lines on a page, supposedly maps and borders. English grammar—“is,” “was,” “were,” “had been,” blah blah blah—was equally puzzling. Finger-on-your-lips corridor walks were probably the only times we truly grasped the concept of silence. If our names ever got called over the mic, even if for mischief, we felt like royalty. And once the final bell rang, we’d snatch our satchels, race to the field, unlock our bicycles, and exit through the grand grill gate. A quick glance back gave us a burst of joy: we were free for the rest of the day and could hang out with friends on street corners.

Who could forget annual days and science project exhibitions? Sanskrit classes, Sanskrit dramas—watching seniors conversing in that ancient language and falling hard for it ourselves. Sports moments, inter-school chess competitions, personality development camps at Thenangoor or Thekkady—wherever they took us. We beamed with pride when our school triumphed over its sister concern. We also held exhibitions and celebrated Raksha Bandhan on Independence Day, envying kids from other schools who got a holiday. If our parents applied for a “restricted holiday,” we’d happily stay home to enjoy the festival with our grandparents.

We fought for window seats, swapped colorful sketch pens (especially the fluorescent ones), and pasted charts all over the walls. We endured aural-oral competitions and holiday homework. We played UNO with siblings, watched Kane and The Undertaker in the wrestling ring, and cheered on Sachin Tendulkar in cricket matches, oblivious to diagonal or horizontal lines—just enthralled by Sachin’s batting. The next day at school, we’d excitedly replay every move with friends. (Sachinism probably deserves its own write-up.)

And here we are, wishing God had a reverse button to take us back to those good old days. Back then, “Google God” was too expensive a concept to fathom; we simply relied on libraries or Doordarshan. JGHV—Jaigopal Garodia Hindu Vidhyalaya—played an enormous role in my life story, teaching me values that shaped me into a near-complete individual.

We learned what family means, understood the essence of friendship, and experienced genuine love. Every one of us holds a rich legacy of memories—let’s cherish them and do our best to pass a bit of that magic on to our kids. I inhale a deep breath of hope, leaving you to wander back to your own childhood.

P.S. Thank you, Padmaja, for prompting me to write this, and thanks to the many friends—Madhuvanthi, Janani, Shakthi, Srivatsan Jagannathan, Aishu, Kavitha, Abi, Krithika, Vaishu, Suju, Usha Mam, Gaju Mam, Sathya Sir, Sankari Miss, Kumar Sir, Princi Mam, Nalini Mam, and all those teachers who not only appear in this piece but also fill the pages of my life. A special mention to Lalitha Mam and Uma Mam of JGHV—my T.S. Eliots—who first recognized my ability to write. I only wish they could read this piece of mine!

CAUTION: ZONE OF IMAGINATIONS: HAZARDOUS TO MIND FEELS

Between the two moments of birth and death sputters the phase we call life. In that phase, you meet people of all kinds, spanning a wide spectrum of relationships. Sometimes, we fire up our brains to understand big ideas—God, prayers, love, and all sorts of known and unknown phenomena—rather than wasting time gossiping about individuals. My mind is teeming with thoughts struggling to take form, and I finally managed to get my laptop to capture them all, hoping to shape these random reflections into a coherent whole. Often, we have nothing to say yet still want to speak—that happens to me quite a bit. So, here’s my take on how a perfect weekend should unfold, starting with Friday.

“Caution: You are entering a HIGH Imagination Zone. You may not step back until permitted.”

TGIF is the first phrase your lips murmur on a Friday morning. After a long, draining week, every cell in your body begs for the serenity of the weekend. There’s a chill in the air, and a little squirrel appears by your window while the coconut tree bends gracefully for the passing breeze. Your phone, lying next to the pillow, softly plays your favorite tunes, and you wonder why these magical moments don’t happen at the start of the week. You wish your loved one were by your side to share the bliss, but it’s only around 5:00 a.m. Still, you pick up the phone that’s been serenading you all night, dial a special number, and hear Dasettan’s voice crooning your dedicated caller tune. Your lips curl into a smile. A warm, playful “Hello daa” meets your “Love you, sweetheart,” which in turn earns a “Love you more.” A tingle courses through every nerve, making your heart flutter.

With that uplifting start, you set out for the day. After a brief commute, you find yourself volunteering at a center for differently abled children, and the joy of helping them spills over into your own work later on. You tackle an overdue report, grateful for a previous filing system that finally helps you tie up loose ends. At last, the weekend is here—two full days for yourself. On your way home, you’re almost walking on air, inhaling the aroma of home cooking through the evening chill. Time seems to swirl forward: day turns to dusk, and the setting sun yields the sky to a gently glowing moon. You reflect on cherished memories of your loved one as you head to a personal meeting. A blessing slips from your lips the moment your phone lights up with your loved one’s picture calling you. Their voice makes you feel as though you’ve traveled in circles, returning to square one—but in the best possible way.

Eventually, you have private moments with all the people who matter most. When the most special one of all scolds you for your impulsive trip, your heart silently cries, “I know you won’t hear this, but I’ll answer you in person if I’m blessed with the chance.” You’re not alone in the night; the sleepless moon keeps you company. You aren’t trained to read stars and planets, but you can capture their essence in your eyes and translate it into words. A shiver runs through you just imagining time spent with your beloved. At last, the big day arrives. You hang out with your dearest friends, letting the gathering fill only half your day, then message your loved one to meet at their place. Shocked to find they’re nowhere to be seen, you realize you’ve mixed up addresses. With your heart pounding so hard it feels like it could leap from your chest, you knock on the correct door at last. A minute passes in stunned silence—guilt, longing, and relief flood both of you, your eyes taking in every subtle change in their expression. Egos dissolve, and tensions fade. You reach out, only to find yourself already embraced in warmth and passion. With a sheepish grin, you whisper, “Yes, I’m absolutely crazy about you, and I made this exhausting trip just to feel this hug.” Words vanish; your eyes do all the talking.

Period.

Transforming for a Deformation!

So, this piece was influenced by a weekend discussion about cultural deterioration. In this era of transformation, everything keeps changing: phones get smarter while humans seem to grow duller, gadgets get slimmer while people get heavier, and our outlooks, attire, and attitudes evolve too. We talk about Darwin’s idea of “survival of the fittest,” yet we often fail to live in harmony with nature, expecting “natural selection” to favor us even though we stand apart from, rather than as part of, nature. Poor nature struggles to find its place on this planet.

We love having conversations in English—perhaps because it’s considered the “balcony of the world.” I am not against English itself, but I am against those who make fun of their own mother tongues. Our attitude toward culture has deteriorated, and our sense of community seems to have vanished. I recall a statement from my sixth-grade Hindi reader—“Manushya saamaajik jandhu hai,” meaning “Humans are social animals.” The author (perhaps Madhu Dhawan or Harivansh Rai Bachchan) was prophetic in reminding us that humans are still classified as animals. Modernization has led to skyrocketing crime rates and unfathomable corruption, and basic moral values appear to be disappearing under the guise of “swag.” We feel embarrassed touching our elders’ feet or going to temples, but we have no qualms about frequenting bars and late-night parties. Clothing has become more about fashion than about being covered at all.

This decline began when our nation welcomed revenue from sectors promoting cultures opposite to traditional Indian values. Like a child drawn to a shiny new object, people were lured in, and that external culture blended into Indian roots. Slowly, financial bonds overshadowed the true bonds of life; the power of wealth began determining how strong relationships should be.

When people isolate themselves, arrogance flourishes, and “self-dependency” is mistakenly viewed as unquestionable independence. This also applies to parents: if an elder—like a grandfather or grandmother—had been around, children would have learned to cope with loneliness more positively. Earlier generations favored nuclear families, and proud parents of both genders realized too late that their pride was misplaced. The saddest part is that many people still haven’t realized this mistake. Had joint families or at least caring grandparents been present, cultural deterioration might have been far less severe. Regardless of gender, the blame is equally shared. If the elder generation had respected their own parents, perhaps we wouldn’t need sophisticated senior care centers.

While parents attempt to instill Indian heritage, values, and traditions in their children, Bollywood has increasingly catered to its diaspora audience, and second- or third-generation Indians—dressed in modernized versions of the traditional sari or shalwar kameez—are blazing a new pop-cultural trail. There’s no need to force children to follow traditions. Being a parent is not just about giving birth but also participating in a child’s “growth and development.” Simply maintain your customs with a smile of genuine satisfaction, and children will naturally be drawn to them. That’s how I learned many of my own traditions, and I’ve continued to uphold them even when no one was watching.

It’s disheartening that “Moral Science” and “Ethics” are now treated merely as school subjects—an indication that Indian culture and professionalism are on the brink of extinction. If I may speak as a rebel, let me say that Western culture is also a valid culture. There is much good in it that we can learn and adopt. However, every cultural package carries its own pros and cons. We Indians should apply a “cultural filter” before letting ourselves become diluted by outside influences. The pursuit of wealth and the power of Western media have amplified these effects; without the revenue, things might have been different. While it is necessary to evolve into better professionals (whatever that means), being completely swept away by foreign values may not be wise. Our heritage is rooted in spirituality, while the culture we are adopting often has a more materialistic base. Nowadays, if you don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, your partner might question your love—but our ancestors never even knew about that day and still shared lifelong bonds of love and trust. Today, people wish each other on Valentine’s Day, only to end up at the courthouse for a divorce or at the park for a breakup.

It’s high time we think for ourselves, rediscover our roots, and make sure our original culture doesn’t fade away. We already have campaigns to save tigers and trees. Let’s hope we don’t end up needing one to “Save Indian Culture and Tradition.

Conditionally Unconditional

To those wondering what the most beautiful thing on Earth is, read on. If this stirs your senses or sends your adrenaline rushing—well, that’s not my responsibility. The order of these priorities doesn’t matter; jotting down every tiny thing that brings a massive smile—broadly curving those rosy lips—is always worth it.

A Moment Amidst Nature
Imagine walking down a lane when the sky gently blesses the earth with rain, and the trees sway in ecstasy for their beloved breeze. Dried leaves, unable to remain in their nests, fall at the roots, pleading for reintegration into the soil. Then there’s you—marking your footprints among the fallen leaves, on the soft sand, maybe over fresh petals just fallen to the ground. The air is chilly, dusk approaches, and a soothing melody plays, bringing to mind the person closest to your heart, no matter how far they are.

A Warm Embrace
Turning back, slowly—ever so slowly—you realize your trembling body is lovingly enclosed in the arms of the one you’ve missed so much. You feel the warm hug you’ve yearned for, hear the husky voice that completes your soul, and the tender “I love you, Da” murmured right into your ears. These are the gentle arms of your beloved around your waist, softly, gently holding you with passion. That is beauty; that is heaven. You realize that heaven can be so small yet can perfectly cradle you when you gaze into your loved one’s eyes. You sense your very soul clinging to your lips in pure joy as they place a kiss on your forehead—one carrying their entire being. You might never have known such deep love, never guessed it could be returned so intensely.

The Ecstatic Moment
In that moment of ecstasy, you stop caring about your status or theirs. Every other detail fades into trivial numbers and letters. All that matters is the time your loved one devotes to you—an irreplaceable gift that can never be reclaimed. You strive not to make them regret sharing that priceless slice of life with you. What truly counts is the unconditional love you both share in that instant.

Nightfall might creep in as the shy sun tiptoes away to make love with the sea goddess, perhaps inspired by the love you both have shown. Yet you barely notice because your loved one’s radiant smile shines so brightly it brings joyful tears to your eyes. Your fingers intertwine, and you feel a gentle pat on your back, promising a steadfast presence for a lifetime. You rest your head on their strong shoulder, comforted and relaxed. Whether your tears are from joy or from longing, heaven emerges the moment your partner kisses them away from your cheeks.

Life and Love
Life is beautiful—far more beautiful than you might believe or expect. Professional etiquette is important, but passion and a cherished inner circle are even more vital. As a contemporary writer rightly noted, nobody will remember your promotions or PowerPoint presentations at your funeral. Spend time with your loved ones. Understand the pleasure of being exactly who you are for each other, sharing a love that remains the same today, tomorrow, and for years to come. Trials and transgressions won’t break it. You trust your partner so deeply that you forgive any missteps, hiding whatever scars there might be. Unconditional love often appears as a gift where initially only the giver seems to benefit—but the receiver benefits, too, once they realize how good it is to be loved.

Embrace the joy of surrendering yourself to your loved one. Life becomes truly beautiful when you share this “conditionally unconditional” love.

A Final Thought
Yes, unconditional love does exist—but not everyone can offer it, and not everyone receives it. Problems arise when all your loved one needs is some confirmation of your faith in them, but you hold back from offering that assurance.

P.S. Love and kinship are never the same thing. Please do not confuse them.

An Unposted Letter to My Angel . . .

My little one,

I could hear your teeth making noise when you find me calling you a little one, despite you being an entrepreneur or a “Woman” of Professional etiquette. But, you are, a little one to me, my darling daughter.

You know what, you made me to write this letter to you. Moreover, where you are put up? Abroad? Out of towns? Off country? No! Just the room next to where I “Live” Yes, I could hear you answering official calls, sometimes, banging the door with a big thud ! However, My angel, you do not have an ear to lend me for some times. All you say to me is, I have been talking too much of recent! And, You, the Gen Y, have not got time to answer all my sheer stupid questions that I used to bombard you with.

Generally, Dads and daughters are known to have lots of laughter’s over a coffees, around the kitchen tables, the drive from school to home or the other way round, but surely a decade or more to chit chat! We both, did have some, meaning, very little time for that ! I, being held up at work place and you were sent to imbibe with lots of activities to fine tune you! Still, at the end of the little chats that we have, warming our fingers with the coffee mugs, hearing hard lovely words from my better half into our ears, I would love to see your eyes blinking like a bunny rabbit when I try to give a piece of mind to you! Oh My, You, reacting as if what ever I had been talking to you was in Greek And Latin, was the loveliest sight I ever Had witnessed.

Might be, more than two decades ago, my heart jumped with joy on the very thought of having a daughter! I was equally joyous, happy, excited, ecstatic and equally worried of the fact that would I be a Best or even a good father to you! But, when you came strugglingly out of  your mom, and when I saw you wrapped in a tower, you as soft as petals of roses, all the fears and confusions crumbled and I realized I am going to love you more than what you can comprehend! I just realized having a daughter is as blessed as visiting heaven! You are just as sturdy as everyone is, you are a force to be surmised with, a soul who dwells with passion and life as same as any man around!

Slowly the wheels of time started rolling on and on! And, I started to grow up with you! I realized it the best moments when you grab the coffee mug from mommy and give it to me as a wake up call with a hug, you would even yell out applauding me when I very shortly, just at the knack, escape a hit from your mom J or what ever. It is more a cliché to me now, and it was not so long when we both tried to wake up your mom by banging doors or increasing the TV volume or dialing up each others’ mobile to ring up! As you grew up, both of us were been bestowed with lots of responsibilities, that the time of spending with each other slowly reduced. Still, your presence, your very movements around the home, atleast on the weekends kept me going!

You started taking reins in the various aspects of your life. And then, all I could do is just to gleam with pride, telling that angel is MY daughter! There were times when you knew me as a strict father, a perfectionist, who needed a infallibly a flawless finish in every thing you do, and when It did not happen, you were pale with the fear of getting beaten up black and blue. But, believe me, I did not mean to hurt you! I just wanted you to take care that your social etiquette is well built!

It was so good to see you stepping out of your high school, grad college and post graduated too with flying colors. Then, in those days you had much time to spend with me. We talked on many things and nothings. You used to share all the “Applications” that you used to receive. And I had so much of patience to answer all the silly, snaring questions that you used to ask more patiently! You had even snapped at me when I told you to be on less make ups!

And, Lo and Behold, In the blink of the eye, you have grown up to be a woman, an entrepreneur, who travels all around the world. And, I, still that senile old man, who cherishes the joy of seeing his daughter winning laurels! But, at the bottom of my heart it is aching to know that you have got no time to “TELL” your success to me! You had been busy enough that you have stamped me as an iconoclast, asking hell a lot of questions to you! You get irritated when I tell you, My little one! You are not ready to understand that, you never could grow out of my heart! I wish, you really do find “TIME” for me, to have atleast a part of our good old days back!

I am closing, all I would want is you to know this, I love you with all that I have.  I am exceptionally proud of you. I might sound selfish, but I ain’t!

Love you,

Loads of love,

Ur Dadda

PS: I dedicate this post to my first hero, My dadduppa, and all those who had given me daughterhood and love of fatherhood, CRR Appa, Radhakrishnan Achcha, and all. Thanks to N.C.B sir who shared his experience to write this one!

How I married Bioscience

To expect science as a profession to be devoid of the challenges that many other workforces face as a way of life would indeed be preposterous. But for those who grew to love science, it’s certainly heartbreaking when you realize that in science all is not fair and square! Some continue to brave despite the let downs, while for others, science may indeed be a story of a love lost! I am of the first type, who continues my affair with science rather than encouraging a break up!
Let me tell You, I am not against IT but I am FOR BT. Science is the object of my first love, First infatuation. The tantalizing theories of science made my neurons fire together and wire together with Science. The affair between me and science as such, is been never ending one. Membranes and Mitochondria are so damn exciting to me than the silicon chips and diodes! I fall in love with those Lactic acid bacteria and Xylanase producing Trichoderma than the copper wires and mother boards. The signal transductions and ion channels has been more appealing to me than the fop and c library! This made me to fix up a long un divorced wed lock life with my darling Science! I was in a state of Euphoria and could see transformation in me in becoming a very vibrant human being when I registered myself for a life long bonding with Science.
Science as such had really boosted and intensified my hitherto dormant concentration and focus. When I started my lifetime bonding with science through the microbes, isolating them from my most favorite food on earth, the curd! It was damn exciting to see such a wide spread of living organisms grown in a very small room and the microscope, that magnified its cells! My little child, I mean, My lactic acid bacteria, unlike me, was a too obedient kid. Though she was a delicate darling, I daringly handled her rough and tough! And, she never filed a suit on me for harassments! J I made sure that my delicate baby though was put under stress never went distressed! I treasured up every moment with her, feeding her with sugarless apple juice as if she was diabetic, giving her acidified liquid diet that solidified on her growth! She gave me the joy of motherhood! She allowed me to be in that blissful state of experiencing the joy upon seeing one’s growth! She inculcated the feel of optimism, the feel of feeling complete, the attitude of ‘Adjust with what you have” and many things.
Like how, a girl needs too go to her inlaws’ place, I had to have the bahu ki bidha with my little angel, who grew up with me. I had been so attached with my first child, the Lactobacillus acidophilus, I can’t allow her to go to a new place, from my hand. But, girls can’t be with their parents always right! I had to put her up for adoption incredibly to some one! She taught me how to cry on departures! I realized how brutal I was, the moment when I was asked to decant her under heat! After all, I could not kill my child with my own hands, empty her home, starve her to death, grabbing her food, or allowing some one to molest her by sharing her room! But pen ultimately, I gave her up for adoption, to my junior friend and kissed her a crying good bye!
After relinquishing my first baby, I had to have my espousal with the higher level kids, the animal cell lines. Life turned exhilarating when I was intoxicated with the animal cell lines, transversely infecting them with the good genes and rearing them up to be a good one and not a troublesome malignant men ! Slowly, life became normal with the new family members in my family and I am getting in on my life with life science!
It is generally heart throbbing to hear people asking me what Life Science has given me till now! I would rather question back than answering this, did your mother expect anything in return when she conceives you in her womb, gives her blood and food! Man, you had been sucking her blood for your life to get sustained, before you came to this earth! And after you came, you had her running behind you for your sustainment!
In BT field, you have a slow growth but a steady growth. Secondly, you dont have a insecured job. Your job security is fine with. I know, most of my friends as an UG get >3.25 L p.a. But I despite having a PG with a Rank and about a score of Projects and miniprojects, with a vast research expertise, earn less than that! I agree, Survival of the fittest is must. In not all cases, Survival of the fastest mean they are the fittest! See, to me its all about the job satisfaction and job security and also the affair that I have with science. Secondly, Life Science is one field thats gonna be there till the last human on earth survives. So you need not depend upon the foreign collaborations or the projects to feed you. You could feed yourself as such. 
I mite be too philosophical. But I look out for a long term improvement and Quality of life rather than the current Status. Life science is again a field that never lets u die thirsty! Growth is gradual but permanent in exponential log phase!  I can not so proudly say that I am one of those people who seem to think human beings; living organisms have structures more pleasing to the eye than Scarlet! Many people don’t seem to realize that we are a species still evolving, evolving to be a better HUMAN. Science could give you clarity of thoughts. I could achieve a state of mental equanimity when I start to unleash creativity to enliven my work environment with the little cells! I have a strong belief that science will be a place for love and no hatredness! 
Enjoy Science, Do Science for Science, Science for the love, Science for excitement of doing science, Science for Passion and Science for Humankind! But not Science for destruction. ! 
I luv ya BioScience ! <3

The Knotty Issue !

My dear son,

I am your mother speaking. I know you love me all the more than any one in this earth. But at the same time you hate me to the core when I talk of your wedlock issues. It is you who made me to tell Wedding/ Marriage as Wed Lock.

Are you able to sense, how sad me and your dad feel when we see guys of your own age, or why, your close friends visit us with his child and wife ?  You get engrossed in playing with the kid. But it is we who experience the heart ache, seeing you as a lone solitary reaper!

You know what, you were initially afraid of coming out of my womb. It was a herculean task to bring you into this world. I faced the risk at the cost of my life. So did you. And when you came out to see the world, your eyelids were sealed with each other. Your stomach was not pumping up and down. We had to put you into the incubator. But with in twenty eight hours, a day and little more, you proved to us you are fit to survive in this world. When you started walking, you feared of falling down, but you became a racer!

When you were put in school, I still remember your swollen red face with eyes drowned in tears .every stage of life was a challenge to you. And you had won in every challenge that you faced in life. Life is not modern and all. Life is life all the time. Just accept and understand that.

What makes you think the word marriage by heart is a burden in your life? Are you afraid of girls? Don’t tell me yes. I am a lady and you have your sister too! Are we not ladies? Are we harming you in any ways ?

Do think on this topic and realize, life is really incomplete without a marriage. We can not always, as parents, come with you till the end of your life. Life after marriage would be really beautiful to live. Me and your dad felt contented after you were born to us. We rejoiced your birth as you are the embodiment of our love and affection, the happiness we shared between us. We rejoiced because you gave meaning to our life.

I am sure you would also rejoice and cherish every moment of marriage and your life as a family man, than being a single eligible bachelor. I wish you read my letter to you, and take wise decision in this knotty issue.

Love u My Son,

With love,

Your Mom. 

My Fellow Humans,

No matter who you are—whether you possess boundless kindness, exceptional talent, or extraordinary wealth—you remain, at your core, a human being. This simple truth transcends labels, whether of gender, nationality, religion, or social status. We are all human, and it is crucial to remember that fact.

As humans, certain values define us: compassion, courtesy, kindness, and a willingness to help others. Even if you choose not to aid someone in distress, refrain from adding to their suffering through harsh remarks or baseless judgment. Yes, our society can be litigious and often discourages involvement in emergencies. However, I urge you to prioritize decency over indifference or criticism.

Consider this: today, you may see a stranger injured and calling for help; tomorrow, you or your loved ones could be in the same dire situation. Strive to be a Good Samaritan. If you cannot assist personally, at least support those who can, rather than spreading rumors or unhelpful commentary.

You don’t need an MBBS, MS, or MD to show basic human kindness. In fact, unsolicited medical advice can do more harm than good if it erodes the confidence of an accident victim. Instead, focus on essential safety practices—beginning with wearing a helmet. It is designed to protect your head, not serve as an accessory for your fuel tank.

Remember that roads are shared spaces meant for everyone’s safe passage. They are not racetracks, social clubs, or arenas for reckless stunts. Each traveler has a priority and destination. By following traffic rules and exercising common sense, we can prevent tragedy from becoming an everyday headline.

Tragically, many bystanders hesitate to help accident victims, dismissing them as “deserving” due to careless driving or risky behavior. However, no one deserves to be in an accident. If you witness one, please do what you can to help. India’s roads are already congested with diverse modes of transportation—from speeding cars to cycle rickshaws—making caution and empathy all the more necessary.

Regardless of who you are, carrying a pair of sterile gloves might enable you to assist an injured person. Moreover, having clear In Case of Emergency (ICE) information can save lives. Program your phone with easily recognizable contact names (such as “Father” and “Mother” or “Appa” and “Amma”) and include details like your medical history (e.g., asthma, diabetes), blood group, and emergency numbers. Keep this information accessible at all times.

Expect the unexpected. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. Drive safely.

Each morning when you leave home, you promise your loved ones you will return. As a fellow human being, do your utmost to keep that promise.

Cheers!

From the pages of a Man’s diary who loves solitude!

This is how every day starts at my home. My mom kicks off the "conference" titled "Me Getting Married"—or, in other words, locking me up in the name of wedlock! My dad? Well, he’s an exemplary husband, a non-chauvinist, you know? He follows in her footsteps, and thus begins the day’s ordeal. It eats away at my sanity, giving me a headache right at the start of what could have been a splendid day, if not for these endless marriage talks!

Let me tell you how it all starts. My mom—oh my God! She’s faster than Chitti, the Robot, when it comes to scanning potential brides. She scans, mixes, matches, selects, scrutinizes, and performs every possible analysis the moment her eyes land on a girl she finds pleasing. Meanwhile, there I am, scratching my head so hard it feels like my grey matter might ooze out! How do mothers always manage to assess every detail about a girl at first glance? Next comes my dad, with his glasses on, meticulously examining horoscopes to see if they match mine. His pupils dart around as if conducting a celestial investigation!

I sometimes seriously wonder—do all parents on Earth have no other job besides nagging their kids to get married? Even after enjoying decades of their own married lives, they still insist on dragging their kids into the same setup. Isn’t that ironic? I mean, spouses argue about every little thing under the sun, but when it comes to arranging their child’s wedding, they magically find common ground. It makes me think—are all parents of this generation destined to become marriage assemblers?

But there’s something they don’t seem to understand. For many girls, especially in certain circumstances, pursuing higher education isn’t a choice but an expectation. Meanwhile, most guys are forced to jump into professional life right after their undergraduate studies, leaving little room for further academic exploration. So, girls gain more exposure and qualifications, which inevitably become critical criteria in contemporary marriage arrangements. After all, as Nehru ji said, “Educate a woman, and you educate a society.”

But here’s the catch—this education plays a huge role in setting the bar. A woman with a master’s degree needs to marry a man with a master’s or a doctorate. And it doesn’t end there! The guy also needs to have a high-paying job at a top-notch company with an even higher CTC. Oh, and let’s not forget the grand finale—he must own a house! Rentals? Out of the question!

Seriously, are fathers supposed to be money machines? If I go to my dad again for help, my sister might just murder me in my sleep! So, the next option is a housing loan. And with that come the dreaded EMIs, interest rates, tax exemptions, and all those commerce terms that felt like Greek and Latin during school. To repay the loan, I’ll have to work overtime, part-time—basically all the time! And the loan will cling to me for at least ten years.

Now, suppose I manage to pay off the housing loan. If I have a child by then, guess what? My kid will come asking for tuition fees that cost more than my entire schooling! I’ll need yet another loan—maybe from my current job, or a new one if there’s no job security. It’ll be loans after loans—home appliances, education, this, that, and everything in between. By the time I fulfill all my responsibilities as a “responsible father,” I’ll be in my late sixties, too exhausted to enjoy life, let alone live it for myself. Add stress-induced ailments and dietary restrictions to the mix—what a life!

So, tell me, why should I marry and willingly enter this endless cycle of debt and stress? Should I waste my life for this?