I first visited Pune in the winter of 1989 and worked as part of the Project Akash team, which was involved in developing a surface-to-air missile system. I visited our sister organisation, Research & Development Establishment (Engineers), to discuss the missile launcher interface. In the evening, while browsing in a bookstore in the Budhwar Peth area, the book Self and Others caught my attention. The cover features three circles that partially overlap each other, and the title makes little sense. I had not heard of the author, R.D. (Ronald David) Laing. However, a mysterious force compelled me to buy this book. A Scottish psychiatrist, Laing died that very year, which I later came to know. 

The book is not big—only 192 pages—but what intrigued me the most was the idea that self-awareness is not merely about introspection but also about acknowledging the interplay between the self and surrounding social interactions. Understanding this dynamic allows individuals to navigate their relationships with increased mindfulness and intentionality. What we consider ‘normal’ behaviour is often a game played by people hiding from themselves.

According to Laing, the individual is not isolated from the environment. The individual continuously modifies the environment, and the environment simultaneously constructs and reconstructs the individual. To be normal is the guarantee of being unsuccessful in life. The art of living is all about recognising and validating the experiences and perspectives of others while staying true to one’s values and beliefs. This dual emphasis on the self and others can lead to more meaningful and fulfilling connections – moving toward, away from, and against others – and is foundational to a peaceful and purposeful life.

The opposing forces of alienation and connection drive our lives. These forces are not permanent but mutually emergent between two people or groups. One response is to cut oneself off from others, leading to alienation. The other response is to connect. Develop a sense of belonging, relatedness, and mutual understanding with others and the world around us. Then there is self-estrangement. A sense of alienation from oneself can develop when internal values clash with societal norms. Having a more compassionate and understanding relationship with oneself is of utmost importance. Acknowledge and confront negative self-beliefs.

“True guilt is guilt at the obligation one owes to oneself to be oneself. False guilt is guilt felt at not being what other people feel one ought to be or assume that one is.” (Part Two, chapter X, p. 133)

The book emphasises the importance of genuine communication. Miscommunication or superficial interactions can distort self-perception and contribute to mental health issues. Laing examines how language and nonverbal cues impact our understanding of ourselves and others.

If you’re feeling disconnected from yourself and your passions, trying out new hobbies or pastimes may help you reconnect with them. When life is not going as you want it to, do what you liked most as a child. It can be flying a kite, reading a book, playing with pebbles or cards, or simply loitering around, going for a long walk, or sitting in a park or on a bench in a mall and just watching people. A well-wisher gave me the book on Gestalt Therapy. But this book came to me through an invisible hand that took me there and purchased it. It has proved to be an eye-opener for me.

I arrived in Hyderabad in February 1982, having been selected as a Scientist in the Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) and posted to the Defence Research and Development Laboratory (DRDL). I had got there purely on merit and grit, and was reverberating with excitement and growth. However, there were financial difficulties. The Central Government paid me a monthly salary of Rs. 1500, of which Rs. 400 was spent on house rent.

Inspired by Dr. Kalam, who became Laboratory Director around the same time, I spent long hours at the office, and my wife, with two children to raise, lamented it all. Soon, I succumbed to work pressure and ended up getting migraines. At times, they were disabling. They would come on just before an important meeting, and I found it extremely challenging to perform. A gentleman named M. Ravi Kumar gave me the book, “Gestalt Therapy: Excitement and Growth in the Human Personality,” saying that, based on his experience, it could be of help to me.

The book taught me how to interpret dreams and connect with ignored feelings and suppressed thoughts. I learnt that you could heal inside when you sit alone and talk aloud to the characters in your dream. Fritz Perls, one of the authors, developed the Empty Chair Technique, described below.

Sit on a chair and keep an empty chair before you, representing either an absent person or a part of yourself. Now, speak to the empty chair, expressing your thoughts, feelings, and emotions as if the other person or part were present. Then, swap chairs and speak from the perspective of the imagined ‘other’.

The empty chair can represent a part of oneself, such as a critical inner voice or a vulnerable aspect of oneself. You articulate your feelings, thoughts, and perceptions while speaking to the empty chair occupied by your ‘imaginary part’, bridge gaps in understanding and emotional well-being, and confront unresolved issues, fostering a profound sense of clarity and reconciliation. This releases tensions such as anger, tears, and shivering, and you feel better after a few minutes. This is not magic, but a brilliant scientific technique. I experienced healing using this technique—my headaches disappeared within a few months.

We are indeed a bundle of multiple selves. There is a biological self, a social self, an intellectual self, and, finally, an immortal Self. Like waves in an ocean, these selves rise and fall in different situations and at various times. The problem starts when one dominates the others. For example, many knowledgeable people lack social grace. The example of an American President having a sexual encounter with his intern in his office is a glaring example of how the biological self can override all others.

Sleep, a regular break of about eight hours from waking life, is meant for mental repair. Dreams reveal the repressed, alienated, and ignored aspects of awareness, which, if correctly understood, can have a profoundly positive effect.

After reading this book, I began looking inward to understand my problems with the outside world, realising that many of them have built-in solutions and can be resolved from within. In this process, what happens to you inside becomes the most serious —and transformative—business. In the words of Fritz Perls,

“Awareness is like the glow of a coal which comes from its combustion… In awareness, a process is taking place in the coal (the total organism) . . . . Our emphasis is on self-awareness . . . this is where most of us are handicapped.” (Part 1, chapter III, p. 75-76)

That’s what the Gestalt therapy challenges us to do: stay present, face ourselves, and let awareness do what it does best—transform.

While working at GB Pant University as a teaching associate, a low-key job that, in retrospect, suited me the most, I met Dr. N.S. Mishra, my senior by about ten years, who joined the faculty in 1978. He had lost one of his eyes in an accident, but he neither used dark glasses to cover it nor opted for prosthetic surgery. He used to say he didn’t want to be judged by his appearance, but rather by his intellect and usefulness. He studied Metallurgy at BHU and worked for the Steel Authority of India before settling into academia. He gave me the book, The Act of Creation, saying that he had received it from his professor as a gift and was passing it on as a baton.

When I relocated to Hyderabad, I took this book with me and read it over the course of several years. The author, Arthur Koestler, found by studying inventions and discoveries that they all share a familiar pattern, which he named ‘bisociation’.

I have coined the term ‘biociation’ in order to make a distinction between the routine skills of thinking on a single ‘plane’, as it were, and the creative act, which as I shall try to show, always operates on more than one plane .  . . transitory state of unstable equilibrium where the balance of both emotion and thought is disturbed.” ((Book 1, part 1, chapter XVIII, p. 36)

He described it as blending components from two formerly unrelated matrices of thought into a new matrix of meaning through comparison, abstraction, categorisation, analogies and metaphors. The best part of this book is its celebration of humour as a creative process. A joke is looking at life from a radically different perspective.

Koestler also compared creativity with the surfacing of the unconscious mind into awareness. Citing the examples of lodestones (natural magnetic rocks) and amber, which attract small objects when rubbed with a cloth, Koestler explains creativity as the process of understanding the reason behind the phenomena. The Greeks had dismissed these as freak phenomena, leaving it to Dr. William Gilbert, physician to Queen Elizabeth, nearly two thousand years later, to discover that the force attracting the magnetic needle was not in the skies, but within the Earth, which itself is a giant spherical lodestone.

Creativity disrupts the status quo. Those who are comfortable and satisfied with their conditions can rarely create anything new. However, even most dissatisfied people merely lament and criticise. Only a few do something to change the situation—and that is the essence of creativity.

“The history of art could be written about the artist’s struggle against the deadening cumulative effect of saturation. The way out of the cul-de-sac is either a revolutionary departure towards new horizons, or the rediscovery of past techniques, or a combination of both.” (Book 1, part 3, chapter XVIII, p. 335)

Arthur Koestler and his wife, Cynthia, died by suicide together at their London home by overdosing on a medicine they knew would kill them. He was suffering from terminal blood cancer (leukaemia). It deeply saddened me. What a tragic end for a man who best understood the science of genius.

We have no control over most things. Childhood is shaped chiefly by where one is born, the family, the locality, and school. I was born into a lower-middle-class family in Meerut. However, my parents were educated, and we had our own three-storey house. I am the eldest of four children, followed by my sister and two brothers. My grandmother also lived with us. Growing up in a small town, I never imagined anything beyond Meerut. But even as a child, books fascinated me. Meerut is famous for its printing of Hindi detective novels, known as Jasoosi Upanyas. I would somehow find one and read it. 

I was introduced to English books at Pantnagar University, where I graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering. Other students in the hostel, from better schools and families, used to own novels, and it was easy to borrow one. The first books I read were novels by James Hadley Chase and Harold Robbins. Their gripping plots and mysteries captivated me. My father passed away in June 1979, and to survive the sudden loss, I felt the need for a book. I walked to Abu Lane with my brother. There was a book shop a few yards from the Nishat Cinema. I purchased Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead, as recommended by the shop owner.

‘The Fountainhead’ follows the journey of Howard Roark, an idealistic and innovative architect. The novel begins with Roark being expelled from architectural school for refusing to conform to traditional architectural styles. Roark struggles to find work and is often rejected due to his avant-garde designs. He takes a job with Henry Cameron, an older architect who shares his vision but struggles to keep pace with changing trends.

In contrast, Peter Keating, a classmate of Roark, succeeds by pandering to societal expectations. He eventually becomes a partner at the prestigious architectural firm. Roark works independently, designing a housing project showcasing his modernist ideals. After facing numerous setbacks, he finally gains recognition for his talents.

Roark’s uncompromising values lead him into conflict with critics who favour traditional architecture. His battle with conformity becomes central to the story, manifesting through the various responses of characters to his work. Roark’s most controversial act occurs when he sets dynamite to a partially completed housing project that is altered against his wishes, asserting his belief in artistic integrity over compromise. The story ends with Roark finally achieving success on his terms, symbolising the triumph of individualism over collectivism.

Roark represents the ideal of a man who refuses to conform to societal expectations or compromise his artistic and architectural vision. The novel champions self-reliance, innovative thinking, and the courage to stand firm against external pressures. It marked a turning point in my life—one that inspired and liberated me from what I now call the ‘Meerut mould’, allowing me to step into my own identity. I have internalised the words of Roark:

“It’s easy to run to others. It’s so hard to stand on one’s record. You can fake virtue for an audience. You can’t fake it in your own eyes. Your ego is the strictest judge. They run from it. They spent their lives running.” (Part 4, chapter 11, p. 606)

The Fountainhead dares you to live a life of your own making. Sometimes, the most radical act is to stand your ground and be unapologetically yourself.