Rodevra Republic

  High above the city, where a simple thought begins to take shape. When my friend on the 56th floor called, at first I thought he was inviting me over for a drink, as he usually does. But when I answered, he said solemnly, “Come if you are free. No agenda.” Which, in his case, usually meant there was one. We sat on the balcony. Tea arrived, as it always did, without being asked for. After some routine talk, he came to the point. “I have been hearing this term—family constitution—these days. I have been mulling over it, and I think it makes sense.” I had a feeling he had already made up his mind and was merely airing his ‘loud thinking’, seeking confirmation more than discussion. He knew I was a writer of sorts, as I used to send him my articles. He claimed he read them; I strongly suspect he didn’t. But the point is, he knew he had in me a patient listener, and someone who could help give shape to his thoughts. He is the patriarch of a large and well-known family, with its members...

Arashiyama Bamboo Grove, Kyoto — where towering stillness above rests on years of unseen growth below There are some images that do more than capture a place—they draw you into a certain stillness. This photograph of the Arashiyama Bamboo Forest in Kyoto is one such image. Tall bamboo rises and converges in an almost cathedral-like formation. There is a sense of vibrant life in these trees, yet what one feels is a deep calm, as if the grove holds its own quiet rhythm and invites you to slow down and notice it. Incredible as the setting is, what is perhaps more revealing lies beneath—an extensive rhizome network below these trees. Unlike what we may instinctively imagine, this is not a collection of individual trees standing apart. Beneath the ground runs a connected, spreading system—an underground stem network from which roots descend and shoots rise. What appears above the surface as many separate forms is, in fact, sustained by a shared foundation. In the early years, the plant i...

A tool may shape the words, but not the thought behind them From time to time, readers may wonder whether tools based on artificial intelligence play any role in the preparation of these posts. In an age when such tools are becoming increasingly common, the question is understandable, and it seems only fair to address it openly. The answer is yes, though perhaps not in the way one might imagine. When I first encountered these tools, I approached them with some hesitation. Writing that deals with reflection, experience, and the subtleties of the inner life seemed unlikely territory for something so technical. There was a concern that a machine might smooth the language while missing the spirit behind it. Over time, however, it became clear that, when used carefully, such tools can serve a limited but useful purpose. They can help refine language, improve clarity, and gently polish a piece once it has already taken shape. The reflections themselves still begin in the same way they always...

This is not a quiz in the usual sense.  There are no scores, no right or wrong to worry about. Think of it instead as a quiet walk through the many moods of Asha Bhosle . Each clue is only a small doorway, sometimes a year, sometimes a musical hint, sometimes just the way a word is held a little longer than expected. If a song comes to mind, stay with it for a moment. If it doesn’t, let the clue linger. The recognition often arrives unannounced. What unfolds, perhaps, is not just a set of songs, but a journey, from a young voice finding its space, to one that could play, provoke, seduce, and finally, transcend form itself. These are songs that did not merely become popular. They became memorable because of how they were sung. So take your time with it. Let the clues lead you where they will... 1. The Early Monsoon (early 1960s) Composed by Ravi .  A rain song where her voice is light, unhurried, and unadorned. No dramatics—just a gentle flow, like f...

Every song - a moment lived The answers, as promised, to the quiz in the previous post, "Asha Bhosle — A Musical Journey in 10 Clues" But perhaps they are only a small part of what these songs hold. What follows are a few glimpses,  small moments that make each of them stay, often for reasons that are not immediately obvious. 1. Ab Ke Sajan Saawan Mein / Early years, with  Ravi . There is a simplicity here that feels untouched. Before the voice acquired its many shades, it had this easy, flowing quality. The rain does not pour—it settles. 2. Piya Tu Ab To Aaja / With R. D. Burman . That stretched, breathy call changed something. It brought breath itself into singing as expression. What could have been excessive somehow becomes unforgettable. A small aside: the “Monica… oh my darling…” was not just a line—it became a cultural echo. Even those who don’t recall the full song remember that call. 3. Aao Huzoor Tumko / With O. P. Nayyar . She d...

Asha Bhosle in her early years, before the legend, when life had already begun asking difficult things of her An enduring journey, of adaptability, reinvention, and quiet strength Much has been spoken about Asha Bhosle, but there is one quality that stands out and defines much of her journey. It was her fluid strength—the ability to bend without losing direction. She did not confront struggle head-on in a dramatic way. She flowed around it, and in doing so, outlasted it. It was a kind of restless adaptability combined with an emotional detachment from defeat. She did not just endure hardship, she refused to be defined by any single phase of it. After the death of her father, Dinanath Mangeshkar, the family was suddenly pushed into survival mode. Much is said about the struggle, but what is less spoken of is this. She began working not with a sense of artistic calling, but almost as a practical necessity. Unlike some artists who are nurtured into refinement, she entered the field withou...

A fingerprint, seen through layers of analysis—where observation often gives way to interpretation Every now and then, one comes across messages, often passed around as casual forwards, that begin with a few interesting facts and slowly move toward larger, more sweeping conclusions. They usually follow a familiar path. A scientific observation is presented, then expanded, and eventually interpreted in a way that goes well beyond what the original fact can support. Fingerprints offer a good example. It is true that fingerprints form before birth. It is also true that they are unique to each individual. These are established facts. But from here, the line of thinking often begins to shift. As someone who writes, I have become more aware of how language can gently steer thought. Not always deliberately, but effectively nonetheless. Certain patterns of expression, certain turns of phrase, can nudge the reader from observation toward conclusion without quite making the transition visible. V...

There are some lines which do not ask for explanation. They arrive complete. Deus intra me est — God is within me. At first, it feels almost too simple. As if nothing more needs to be said. And yet, if one lingers with it for a while, it begins to deepen, not by adding meaning, but by drawing attention inward. For a long time, the human instinct has been to look outward. To seek, to search, to reach beyond—into the world, into ideas, into distant possibilities. Civilisations have risen on this impulse. Philosophies have been built around it. And yet, alongside this outward movement, there has always been another, quieter one. A turning. A later rendering of the Greek maxim “Gnōthi seauton” (Know thyself), a timeless call to turn inward At Delphi, the Greeks had inscribed a simple line: Gnōthi seauton — Know thyself. It does not sound like a spiritual declaration. It sounds almost like advice. But those who stayed with it realised that this “knowing” was not about facts or des...

Some stories rise so sharply that their fall seems almost inevitable. This is one of them. Victor Niederhoffer — investor, thinker, and a witness to both the heights and limits of success Victor Niederhoffer, the son of a refugee who had fled Nazi Europe, grew up in the United States with a certain inherited resolve. Loss had already visited the family once, and perhaps that leaves behind a quiet determination to rebuild, to rise, to secure what had once been taken away. He was brilliant with numbers. Markets, which to most appear uncertain and restless, began to reveal patterns to him. He entered the world of finance and rose quickly, with a clarity of thought and confidence that set him apart. Success followed, and then more success. Wealth accumulated, and at one point, he stood among the very few who could be called billionaires. But success has a way of altering the very judgment that created it. Confidence deepens into conviction, and conviction, if left unchecked, begins to hard...

George Washington Carver working in his laboratory at Tuskegee Institute I was recently forwarded an article about an interesting psychological concept called social proof.  It can be broadly defined as the tendency of individuals to look to others to determine the correct behaviour in a given situation.  It rests on the implicit assumption that if many people believe or do something, it must be valid or acceptable. This behaviour is rooted in our evolutionary past where group consensus often had survival value. Considering how subtle and pervasive it is, manifesting in various forms in our lives, I realised the value of independent and critical thinking. I was looking for examples of people who demonstrated this quality—of standing against the tide and refusing to take the easy route to conformity. I did not have to stretch my thinking; the name of George Washington Carver (1864–1943) immediately came up. My acquaintance with him began years ago, through a colleague who spok...