I am a mechanical engineer who worked for 15 years at the Defence Research & Development Laboratory (DRDL) in Hyderabad. There, I developed the Trishul and Akash missile airframes and Titanium Airbottles. In 1992, Dr APJ Abdul Kalam, then Chief of the Defence Research & Development Organization (DRDO), decided to develop civilian spinoffs of defence technology. I came out of the mainstream to interact with doctors and learn from them to indigenously develop medical materials and devices as affordable import substitutes.

The success of developing a unique variety of 316L stainless steel led to the development of an indigenous coronary stent that became famous as the Kalam-Raju Stent. Cardiologist Dr B. Soma Raju, who guided this effort, invited me to leave the confines of defence research and development. We created the Cardiac Research and Education (CARE) Foundation, a biomedical research platform recognised by the Department of Scientific and Industrial Research (DSIR), Government of India.

The importance of indigenous development cannot be overstated. Innovation—a new method, idea, or product—is at the root of creation. Innovation involves creative brilliance and a particular type of people who think differently from the typical and conditioned ways of life. Using the vast infrastructure of defence R&D for civilian spinoffs was a historical innovation. We were driven to address the cost prohibitiveness, and our little initiative prepared the ground for many multinationals to open their factories in India.

By the turn of the new millennium, I found myself stranded, working with doctors and with little government support forthcoming. The advent of broadband connectivity saved the day for me, and we remained relevant by developing teleradiology, which became the basis of the Pan-Africa e-Network launched by the Government of India to connect African hospitals and universities with their Indian counterparts. The concept of delivering medical images directly from where they are generated to expert radiologists at their locations addressed the issue of a shortage of radiologists in the country. For a while, radiology became the most sought-after medical speciality, but as imaging machines became intelligent, the role of radiologists was reduced to verification. 

Then came the era of generative AI, and machines started learning from radiologists’ work. Major equipment manufacturers integrated machine learning features into their machines, enabling imaging machines like CT and MRI to instantly identify patients’ apparent health issues. Today, machines can deliver highly accurate results, not only in imaging but also in laboratory tests. Blood is still needed, but in minimal quality—a drop rather than a vial—and soon, even that may be replaced by non-invasive methods.

Saying that COVID-19 was a watershed moment in modern times may sound like a cliché, but the fact remains that it has changed the way the world works. The way in which primary healthcare was abandoned during that period and private hospitals made money, is an embarrassing testimony to the fact that healthcare has become a commercial business. The medical profession has almost destroyed itself, being controlled by big money; most hospitals function with profit-making policies and how things will change is unclear. 

So, the focus shifts back to innovation; its purpose is now redefined as delivery rather than mere availability. How do we take intelligent machines to needy people? They cannot access expensive hospitals because of a lack of money, nor are they always welcomed, as their presence is often viewed as spoiling these hospitals’ clean, polished ambiences that outshine even five-star hotels. This situation is untenable and, unless corrected, will lead to another healthcare crisis sooner rather than later.

Over a decade ago, I met Dr Bharat Veeramachaneni, an Internal Medicine specialist. The grandson of legendary leader Smt. N.P. Jhanshi Lakshmi (1941–2011), Dr Bharat is conscious of his responsibility towards primary healthcare. We create unsolvable issues for ourselves if we neglect to serve the poor and fail to address their issues. Once a pathogen develops anywhere, it becomes impossible to stop it. Today, the biggest problem is the need for more doctors in primary healthcare settings. Before the NEET system, state governments used to deploy doctors to work in such settings before granting them a PG seat, but now, no one goes there. What is the remedy?

I shared the famous story of Belling the Cat with Dr Bharat. In it, a group of mice agrees to attach a bell to a cat’s neck to warn them of its approach in the future, but they need help finding a volunteer to do the job. Technology, funds, and people are available; political will needs to be improved. I asked Dr Bharat if he would bell the cat. He surprised me by saying, “The time to bell the cat has long since elapsed. Our inability to mount a combined and concentrated effort, which included the screening and triage of patients at the primary healthcare level, adversely impacted and overwhelmed our secondary and tertiary healthcare response to the COVID pandemic, causing morbidity and mortality on an unprecedented scale. It is time to deal decisively with a difficult or dangerous situation or live burdened with chronic diseases.”

The productivity of a nation directly depends on the health of the country. With the existing secondary and tertiary healthcare infrastructure, which has neither the required manpower nor the physical reach, it is impossible to cater to the healthcare needs of 1.42 billion Indians. This challenge is compounded by the financial burden of accessing secondary and tertiary care centres for health issues that can often be managed at the primary healthcare level at a fraction of the cost. The responsibility for healthcare delivery cannot rest solely with corporate hospitals and private health insurers, who would manage it for their profits, which is a no-brainer.

There is an urgent need to develop a robust primary healthcare infrastructure: a formidable force of specialists fully vested with knowledge, power, and authority tasked with protecting our nation’s health. Further strengthening our primary healthcare with government policies and new-age tools such as AI would help improve surveillance, delivery and service efficiency and provide an opportunity to educate people on maintaining good health and preventing diseases. AI can bridge the six cardinal information gaps in receiving treatment in the hospital – first contact, longitudinality, comprehensiveness, coordination, person or family-centeredness, and community orientation.

Yes, the time to bell the cat has long since elapsed. The bull is running amok in the shop of fragile glassware, and the only way to prevent further damage and destruction is to take the bull by the horns, wrest control of our great nation’s health from the clutches of private and for-profit players and place it firmly back in the hands of capable, empowered primary healthcare providers. The question is not who will allow it but who will stop it. Life is all about taking the right actions at the right time.

Myths often reflect the creativity and storytelling traditions of cultures. They can be seen as symbolic narratives that explain natural phenomena, human behaviour and societal values. These stories often incorporate fantastical elements and characters illustrating human experiences and emotions. Can mythology be interpreted as profound metaphors or even a coded system of secrets? I believe myths contain deeper meanings, metaphorical truths and cultural values that their fantastical narratives might obscure. Hidden messages about morality, rituals, or societal structures are conveyed through myths and passed on to successive generations. Sometimes, myths can serve as allegories for psychological experiences or historical events.

Even in the 21^st century, half of science is dogmatic and no different from myth. This includes the celebrated molecular biology theory that genetic information flows from DNA to RNA to protein and cannot happen in a reverse fashion. There is no proof, but it cannot be disproved either. After the conclusion of the Human Genome Project in 2003, which sequenced all 3 billion ‘letters’, or base pairs, in the human genome, the mystery of life was declared an open book. However, a confusing dilemma rapidly emerged: while scientists could copy the text, they could only comprehend a small portion.

The vast bulk – up to 98 per cent – of our DNA does not code for proteins. Much of this ‘dark matter genome’ is assumed to be nonfunctional evolutionary remnants that are along for the journey. However, numerous critical regulatory elements are hidden in this noncoding DNA that controls thousands of gene activations. Furthermore, these elements have a significant role in diseases including cancer, heart disease and autism and may hold the key to potential therapies. No wonder the modern medical industry is busy mainly with ‘managing’ chronic diseases for which there is no cure. Even questions like why one has high blood pressure are not answered.

The observable universe is limited to only a fraction of what we know and observe. The portion of the universe we can detect from Earth, including the Hubble telescope which is stationed 525 km above Earth’s surface, spans about 93 billion light-years in diameter. Still, it is just a tiny part of the entire universe, which might be much larger or infinite. Approximately 95% of the universe comprises dark matter and dark energy, which are not directly observable. Dark matter is thought to account for about 27% of the universe’s mass-energy content, while dark energy is believed to make up around 68%, driving the universe’s accelerated expansion.

How incredibly the Shiva Purana describes Lord Shiva, the unmanifested primal God, as using 10% of His power to create Vishnu, the Lord of the manifested universe

संप्रधार्येति स विभुस्तया शक्त्या परेश्वरः ।

सव्ये व्यापरायन्चक्रे दशमेऽगें सुधासवम् ॥

[Lord Brahma narrates] The Almighty Lord of the Supreme, as by that power He is to be understood, perfused with nectar [activated] a tenth portion of His left side. (Rudra Samhita 6.37)

Even the name of the manifested God is not arbitrary. ‘Vishnu’ embodies the preservation, protection and sustenance of the universe. The ancient Indian imagination of the cosmos as an ocean, specifically the ‘Kshira Sagar’ or the ‘Ocean of Milk’, is profound and accurate. Various forms of life and the universe emerged from the Cosmic Ocean.

The ancients brilliantly captured reality by identifying ‘God is in every living being’ and identifying this divine presence with Narayana, ‘floating over waters’. The view that ‘all other elements appeared from that great Being’ encapsulates a profound sense of spirituality that encourages reverence for life and emphasises the oneness of all existence, promoting a compassionate and harmonious way of co-existence. Not only me but all others; everything else is God-originated and God-sustained.

The universe is unimaginably vast, with billions of galaxies, each containing millions or even billions of stars, many of which have their planetary systems. The Earth is just one small planet in a medium-sized galaxy (the Milky Way), among an estimated 100 billion galaxies in the observable universe. While the Earth may seem tiny on the cosmic scale, a mere sand particle in a desert, and I am among more than 8 billion like me living here, the idea of interconnectedness suggests that every part of the universe is part of a larger whole; all human beings carry with them One divinity, whatever it is.

Ancient Indians captured this with the spectacular imagery of a lotus flower growing out of Vishnu’s navel and a four-headed, red-coloured Lord Brahma sitting in it. The flower symbolises the transient nature of human life and experiences, and it comes out of Vishnu’s navel, suggesting that our physical existence is a small chapter in the larger narrative of the universe.

The origin of life on Earth remains one of the most intriguing scientific mysteries. While several theories propose how life could have begun, a definitive explanation has yet to be established. A hypothesis suggests that life might have originated from self-replicating ribonucleic acid (RNA) molecules that may not have originated on Earth but arrived here via comets, meteoroids, or interstellar dust. The way the ancient Indians described it, ‘Lord Brahma, being playfully kept upon the lotus’, is fantastic.

The Shiva Purana mentions an exciting argument between Lord Vishnu and Lord Brahma. Lord Vishnu treats Lord Brahma as His junior because he has grown out of Him. Lord Brahma refutes this, sure of His independent origin, powers (four heads), and potency (blood-red colour). So, an infinite column of light appears between the two warring ones, exposing the pettiness of their thinking. They both attempt to measure the column of light by trying to reach its end: Lord Brahma, as a swan, goes upward, while Lord Vishnu, as a boar, goes downward. However, they still looked for its boundaries even after travelling for thousands of years. Lord Brahma laments:

सत्वरं सर्वयत्नेन तस्यान्तं ज्ञातुमिच्छया।

श्रान्तो न दृष्ट्वा तस्यान्तमहं कालदधोगतः॥

[Lord Brahma tells Narada Muni] I quickly made every effort to find the end of it [the column of light]. Exhausted from not seeing, He [Vishnu] was also back, I fell into the abyss of time. (Rudra Samhita 7.62)

So, what do I envisage as 2024 draws to a close? According to mythology, the duration of Kaliyuga is around 4,32,000 Earth years, of which hardly 5000 years have passed. There is a long way ahead, and thousands of human generations will roam the Earth before the curtains are drawn in whatever be the final act. How narrow and short a human life of some seven, eight, or nine decades is in the cosmic drama! And yet, the incredible fact of our times is that we are close to transferring information from living brains made out of carbon to those made from silicon and taking intelligence to other planets where the human body may not survive without water and oxygen, but silicon brains can.

The image of Lord Brahma sitting on a lotus is soothing, though the scary infinite serpent of Time can’t be ignored and wished away from the frame. Indeed, the romanticised aspects of life often mask the challenging realities of ageing, illness, and mortality. While love and connection can bring immense joy, the inevitability of health decline and loss can create significant emotional turmoil. Embracing the full spectrum of life, its beauty and difficulties can ultimately lead to a richer understanding of what it means to be human.

I exist. My family, friends, and people I wouldn’t say I like all exist. I face situations both comfortably and disquietly. I feel happy and sad, relaxed and anxious. Like a flowing river, the stream of thought in my mind sometimes flows smoothly, sometimes torrentially, sometimes transparent, and at times muddy. Many fish keep lurking in my consciousness. Maybe I am lucky not to have an alligator!

Who am I? What do I know? Do I express my feelings to others without fear? Am I firm in my values and beliefs? Am I free of biases, pride and prejudice? Am I calm, serene, grounded in my faith in the One Consciousness operating across the cosmos, and believing that whatever is happening is the only way it could have happened? I have aged every year, and will be 70 soon. People my age have already started departing. After all, the average age of an Indian is 67 years, and I have already lived longer than that.

Confined to my home on health grounds and having retired from work long back, I read a lot and write regularly. I am connected to some good-hearted, thoughtful people through my blog, which is read across five continents. I have seen the world transform – from postcards, public phones, and bank tokens to the Internet on mobile phones and digital money transfers. I can access any library and read any newspaper sitting in my home. I can order my medicines and hot food online. There is no need to go to the cinema, where I once stood in the queue and bought tickets in black.

A lot has happened for the good. Although the poor people remain poor, they are not as miserable and helpless as they used to be. Things have improved for everyone – roads, water, electricity, and a sense of social equality cannot be denied. But what has not changed, or may I say has worsened, is the peaceful contentment with which my middle-class parents lived. They struggled with their meagre means but provided what was necessary, and my three siblings and I never felt uncared for on any account. Now, well-off people are complaining about almost everything. Why is it so?

Human society is a well-evolved system. For centuries, people have developed ways to live together with their own methods and manners, different in different places but suited to their surroundings. Some people are knowledgeable, scholarly, forceful, authoritative, enterprising, transactional, and happy in their servitude. As we say in the language of System Engineering, a balance is somehow arrived at that may not be the best but is optimal. This local equilibrium has been disrupted in the last two decades. Mobile phones and the Internet have turned what was considered ‘privileged’ into ‘commonplace’. 

Well-crafted dramas circulate on TV, seeding discord and rivalry in families and violence in communities, and criminals have become role models. Politics has been hijacked by big money, and governments, instead of being the custodians of public interest, seem to have become facilitators of corporations. Consumer culture has been unleashed, encouraging people to buy fancy things and products. They are lured to borrow money even if they don’t have to spend it, creating a new form of slavery. No wonder there is discord in families, unrest in society and a general climate of unease everywhere.

We no longer live our truths but ‘the roles defined’ by the powerful electronic media machinery. Everyone has been given a mobile phone with ‘free’ bandwidth, which can ‘trap’ their inquisitive minds from exploring, just as rats are captured in homes. Food has been industrialised – cooked in large quantities and ‘delivered’ to the house. Hospitals have become more like hotels, the insurance system supports high tariffs, and the premiums have become more like a ‘tax’ on the living. All roads collect ‘toll tax’, drinking water has become a commodity, and education has become a farce. Whatever you study, a competitive exam system that runs like an industry selects only the ‘best’.   

The world as it has emerged is a consumer base of 8 billion people eating, procreating, getting sick, and competing among themselves for their little comforts and conveniences, where a few corporations have amassed wealth that is more than the economies of nations, and turned mankind into ‘consumer machines’ and the world into ‘a marketplace’. Apple Inc. is as giant as the Indian economy in terms of money. This is the truth, and as for the facts, it depends on which TV channel you watch, your social-political orientation, what your Internet search and ChatGPT tell you, and what you want to know and ignore.

However, certain realities remain. I will state three of them here.

The first reality is impermanence. What was there yesterday is not there today, and what is there today will not be there tomorrow. For example, when you bathe in a river, you have new water every time you take a dip, as the earlier water has already flowed downstream. You are getting older, and your children are growing up. Livelihoods are changing, roles are changing, and the standards of right and wrong, proper and improper, are changing too. General courtesy, respect for elders, compassion for the poor, charitable hospitals and schools are memories.

The second reality is mortality. Whoever is born will die. Here, I must mention my observation that disease and death do not necessarily go hand-in-hand as they are made out to be by the healthcare industry. I have seen many people with disability and chronic diseases praying for death every day of their lives but continuing to live while healthy and happy people suddenly drop dead. (I am not including accidents here.) Even alcoholics and smokers may live longer than many health-conscious people.

The third reality is Maya, the illusionary power that clouds our minds and refuses to let us see things as they are. In Hinduism, Maya is created by God Himself to sustain materiality in which ‘an experiencer’ has been introduced who has given himself the name of ‘Human’ and started believing himself to be God, forgetting that the earth is merely a sand particle in the cosmos and that he is only one of the eight billion people who are already living there. Maya operates through hubris and greed, fulfilling your ‘larger than life’ image and attitude of ‘entitlement and privileges’.

While it is very appealing to read Shri Krishna telling Arjuna that he is a soul and not the body, the disturbance we experience due to things like a delay of an hour in getting food or an electricity breakdown on a hot and humid night, or someone ignoring us, not answering our calls or not replying to our emails, is testimony to the sordid state of our being, which is nothing more than our bodies and minds. I am inclined to consider myself as an actor who was given the role of a king in a drama, and after the show was over, the crown, the sword, and the dress were taken back. No payment was made as it was a charitable show, and everyone participated as a volunteer. The worst was that no one even recorded the video.

That is how I dreamt about myself recently.

I visited Mr Radhakrishna Chandramouli, a long-standing friend and successful banker who spent two decades in Africa and is a devout Brahmin. My son Amol accompanied me. Now retired,  Mr Chandramouli lives in his palatial house in upscale Banjara Hills in Hyderabad with his wife; his children are settled, and besides managing his financial assets online, he spends his time in active devotion to God through chanting and puja. His face radiates peace, and when he speaks, there is no attempt to please the listener or promote an idea; words come from his heart, conveying his feelings. I shared with him my unhappy frame of mind and my boundary-line lamentation about how things are rather than what they could have been.

Mr Chandramouli knows me well and has read most of my books. Without mincing his words, he pointed out my over-emphasis on intellectualising ideas and idolising things and people. He said, “The biggest illusion is this sense of ‘I’ that tries to see like a torch beam and analyse the little spot it is illuminating.” He suggested I spend more time quietly, chanting a good mantra and letting things and people go their way. Of course, he also spoke of a ceremony for my ancestors, who he says are always present overseeing what is going on with a helping mindset, even if powerless to interfere directly. He suggested I read the Uddhava Gita. I acted upon his advice, felt good after remembering and venerating my ancestors, and studied the Uddhava Gita.

Among ancient India’s Sanskrit books of wisdom, the Shrimad Bhagavata Purana is unique in its intellectual sophistication, poetic beauty, and compelling organisation. The Uddhava Gita is part of the Eleventh Book of the Shrimad Bhagavata. It is presented as a dialogue between Lord Krishna and his childhood friend and devotee, Uddhava. Shri Krishna imparts spiritual knowledge and guidance to Uddhava before he winds up his incarnation in the human world.

The teachings of the Uddhava Gita cover various topics, including philosophy, devotion, the nature of the self, the importance of righteousness (dharma), and the paths to liberation (moksha). Overall, it emphasises the significance of devotion to God (bhakti) and provides insights into leading a virtuous life while navigating the world’s complexities. This text is often considered an essential philosophical work that reflects the principles of the Vedanta and the Bhakti traditions in Hinduism.

It is time for Shri Krishna to conclude his incarnation in Dwapara Yuga, the third and the third-best of the four world ages preceded by Treta Yuga and followed by Kali Yuga. Uddhava requested Shri Krishna to grant him liberation from the mortal world. But Shri Krishna replied that something remained for Uddhava to do in this world, so he must live for some more time. Shri Krishna then disclosed to Uddhava the most confidential understanding of religious principles, whereby even a blind man can easily follow the path and ultimately attain liberation. After understanding this knowledge, Uddhava must impart it to the twin sages Nara and Narayana Rishis, residing at Shri Badrika Ashram in the Himalayas. The dialogue, or the discourse of Shri Krishna to Uddhava, is the Uddhava Gita.

There is a view that the Uddhava Gita picks up where the Bhagavad Gita and Anugita – Shri Krishna’s two revelational conversations with Arjuna – are embedded in the Mahabharata end. Both books are different, though written by Rishi Veda Vyasa, the author of eighteen major Puranas and considered a generic author of Hindu scriptures. The Uddhava Gita enhances the lessons of the Bhagavad Gita—one could even argue that it serves as a cap on the Gita tradition, with culminating knowledge and esoteric complexity about why a human life with its unique capability to imagine, especially about the afterlife, exists on planet earth. Where lies its uniqueness? What is its purpose?

There are 1100 Shlokas in the Uddhava Gita. However, the entire Uddhava Gita is condensed into six shlokas, from 7 to 12 in the first chapter. ‘Relative’ is the crucial word in Shloka 7. Shri Krishna says that everything we see and think with our eyes and brains is transient (mithya) and already headed towards its dissolution. Therefore, how can we feel safe relying on that which is perishing? How are we supposed to feel satisfied?  The critical term in Shloka 8 is ‘Separation’. Shri Krishna says living in this delusional manner is like being on a different planet in one’s mind.  After that point, we continue to divide people—me, you, mine, yours, rich, poor, etc.  ‘Direction’ is the keyword in Shloka 9. How do we avoid becoming lost in the mind or the labels? Guide the senses to the mind or through the mind, then guide the mind to the Supreme Creator behind the phenomenon.

While ‘effort’ is the subject of these three shlokas, the ‘outcomes’ are covered in the next three. ‘Joyous’ is the keyword in Shloka 10. You will be happy if you become Me, Shri Krishna extols. The depth of this relationship is Devotion. Know this and internalise it. The message in Shloka 11 is ‘Freedom’. Joyful people feel liberated, much like a baby. A baby is spontaneous, carries no burden on its mind, and lives in the present. The message of Shloka 12 is ‘Peace’. Calm people are content with themselves and naturally lend a hand to help others. Of course, these six ideas are expanded with excellent examples and through enchanting poetry in the rest of the book.

Devotion is best described as a hybrid of love and surrender. That makes it undoubtedly useful for quietening the mind. You have the confidence that ‘you are taken care of’ by the ‘Supreme Creator’. But it is often more complex than simply achieving mental tranquillity. It is a robust process of purification. As all invisible microbes die, when an operation theatre is fumigated in the hospital, in the mind of a devotee, all bad impressions of prior deeds, like bad seeds, are burned, never to sprout again. Devotional practices, such as prayer, meditation, or rituals, can help individuals concentrate and cultivate mindfulness. This focused attention can lead to a quieter mind and peace. Devotion often involves deep emotional engagement and connection to a higher power or a greater purpose. Deities, various forms of God, help.

Mine is a four-armed standing Lord carrying a discus (Sudarshan Chakra) in the upper right hand, conch (Panchajanya) in the upper left hand, mace (Kaumodaki) in the lower left hand, and lotus in the lower right hand. This emotional aspect can enhance the experience of devotion, leading to feelings of love, gratitude, and inner calm. Prayer, meditation, rituals, or singing can provide an emotional outlet, allowing individuals to release the tension and anxiety associated with daily life. This emotional catharsis can lead to a feeling of lightness and relief.

Faith in God goes much beyond the mind. In the Cosmic phenomenon of which planet Earth is a tiny part, like a sand particle in a desert, human life is no more than a worm slithering in a pit. Setting aside the ‘madness’ of ‘what I think is appropriate’, how I feel about ‘so and so’, and ‘this and that’, if we try to connect with the Oneness of the entire phenomena, it is only natural that the source energy removes the muck in the consciousness and loosens the knots in the troubled emotional heart. The knot gets created when one tries to have things in a particular way rather than accepting them as they are. Most of our energy is wasted sorting out the complications we create. Those who can’t free up their consciousness from ‘I-ness’ and ‘Mine-ness’ return to the world with a new body – crying like a helpless infant and growing up weaving a new web of relations like a spider.

Last fortnight was the Pitra Paksha, an annual 15-day period in Hindu tradition observed to honour and pay homage to ancestors.  During this period, Hindus perform various rituals such as Tarpan (offering water), Shradh (ceremonial offerings of food), and other acts of devotion to appease the souls of deceased ancestors. It is believed that these rituals help the ancestors attain peace and liberation.

One is thought to have three primary debts: a debt to the gods, a debt to the guru, and an obligation to the forebearers. Repaying these debts with the most extraordinary deference and humility is required. The ruler of death, Yama Raja, permits everyone who passes away from this life to return to earth and collect offerings from their next generations during this time, known as Pitra Paksha. Shradhs appear to result from the Karma hypothesis, which upholds and sustains relationships for all eternity. As King Mahabali journeys to Kerala during the Onam festivities, the shradhs create a bridge between the living and the dead.

Pitra Paksha is a powerful reminder of the belief in the continuity of life. It reflects the importance of honouring one’s lineage and serves as a time for individuals to reflect on their family history and express gratitude towards their ancestors. This belief in the eternal cycle of life and death can bring a sense of reassurance and comfort. The Chinese, Japanese, and certain other Asian people show gratitude and reverence for their ancestors similarly. This time, I invited five competent priests and performed the ceremony. Through them, I worshipped my paternal and maternal bloodlines, ancestors, all the gods, and Shri Vishnu’s footmark in Gaya. It was a genuinely satisfying experience.

Our ancestors ‘live on’ within us through DNA, which is not merely an idea but a fact. Each person inherits genetic material from their parents, which contains DNA passed down through generations. This genetic information influences everybody, including physical traits, predispositions to specific health conditions, and even some behavioural tendencies. In this sense, every person carries a part of their ancestors’ biological legacy within their cells.

Emerging science in epigenetics suggests that environmental factors can influence gene expression and potentially be passed down through generations. This adds another layer to understanding how ancestors may impact their descendants. Understanding our genetic connection to our ancestors can foster a sense of belonging and identity. It reminds individuals of their heritage and the contributions of those who came before them, reinforcing that our lives are intertwined with those of our forebearers.

Anatomically modern humans (Homo sapiens) are believed to have emerged around 300,000 years ago. An average generation length of 30 years would suggest that approximately 10,000 generations of humans have existed. Each of these generations has played a role in shaping human experience, culture, and evolution. 

As humanity spread across the planet, diverse cultures and histories emerged. Each group may have its generational perspective shaped by local customs, challenges, and adaptations.

People have always wandered the planet, and many have migrated from their home country to a new one in the last few centuries. They have experienced the transition, often facing challenges such as language barriers, cultural differences, and adapting to new social systems.

The children of migrants usually grow up with a blend of their parents and the host country’s culture. They often face unique challenges, including navigating their identity between two cultures. The grandchildren of the original migrants are typically even more integrated into the host society. However, while younger generations may adopt the societal norms of the host country, they may still engage with their ancestral culture through family traditions, festivals, and community gatherings.

We live in the ‘millennial’ or ‘digital’ generation, with newer generations emerging as societal norms and technologies evolve. Millennials have grown up during a time of increasing globalisation. They have greater access to information, cultures, and ideas worldwide than previous generations, primarily due to the internet and social media. With the rise of digital technology, millennials are more likely to engage with and embrace diverse cultures. Exposure to international music, films, cuisine, and art is more prevalent, fostering a global perspective.

Many millennials prioritise building diverse social networks. They often connect with people from various backgrounds, ethnicities, and cultures, leading to a more cosmopolitan social experience. Millennials support values promoting inclusivity, diversity, and social justice. This mindset often stems from a cosmopolitan view emphasising the importance of understanding and respecting global issues.

Despite these trends, it is important to note that not all millennials are cosmopolitan. Geographic location, socio-economic status, personal preferences, and individual experiences can shape one’s worldview. Some millennials may have less exposure to global cultures due to economic, social, or geographical constraints. Children of migrated populations often face significant challenges, such as poverty, unemployment, and lack of access to education and social services. They are vulnerable to radicalisation, leading to participation in violent extremist groups.

Many people turn to their ancestry to anchor their sense of self in a globalised world where identity can feel fragmented. Understanding where one comes from can help individuals navigate questions of identity, particularly in multicultural contexts. The history of one’s ancestors often reflects broader societal changes, such as migration, war, social movements, and technological advances. Understanding this history allows individuals to reflect on the progress and issues in society today.

So, what do ancestors mean to a modern man? Modern individuals may find value in tracing their genealogy, learning about the lives and struggles of their forebearers, and recognising the legacies they have inherited, which can influence their sense of self. Honouring one’s ancestors through rituals and practices can provide comfort, foster a connection to something larger than oneself, and receive support from those who came before.

Without a doubt, we feel a solid connection to our ancestral roots, whether through cultural traditions, values, or beliefs. This connection shapes personal identity, influencing how individuals perceive themselves and interact with the world. The world is complex, and life is only sometimes a pleasant journey. Living in the shadow gives a sense of higher order protection like a tree, continuing influence and setting expectations based on ancestral history. By acknowledging the impact of ancestors, individuals can actively embrace, modify, or break free from specific patterns or practices to align more closely with their values and aspirations. Engaging with this ancestral connection can enrich modern life, fostering a sense of continuity, resilience, and belonging.

I performed the Shradh ritual this year, having ignored it earlier. Undoubtedly, the moment you call out the names of your ancestors – from the bloodlines of your father and mother, you have goosebumps. The rest of the ceremony may be semantics, but the connection of every living one with oneself is real and phenomenal and cannot be ignored. If we count back to four grandparents, their eight parents, then their sixteen parents, and so on, for me to be born, 12 earlier generations, 4094 ancestors were involved. How many struggles, victories, and defeats they would have lived through so that I am living today? I can always pretend to be ignorant, but could I ever be without them?

When I took admission to G.B. Pant University in 1971 to pursue graduation in mechanical engineering, I experienced a cultural shock. I had never seen such a lush green campus with trees lining both sides of the roads, the backdrop of the Kumayun Hills on the northern horizon, and neatly constructed buildings with elegant facades – imposing yet not intimidating. The first Agricultural University of India, G.B. Pant University was established in collaboration with the University of Illinois and had an engineering college that I attended. Several faculty members were U.S.-returned and spoke English with an accent I found hard to understand. However, perhaps the most significant challenge was the course on elementary economics, taught by a young professor from Visakhapatnam. I hardly understood what he said in class. Hapless and clueless, I wondered why an engineering student needed to study economics.

After a few weeks, when my ears and brain got accustomed to my teacher’s accent, I heard him say one day that markets are like scissors. As the two blades of a scissor act upon a cloth to cut it, so do supply and demand set market pricing. Demand for a product means nothing if there is no supply, and supply is worthless without demand. This made perfect sense to me, and my happiness at finally learning something important was unbound. The teacher said that while one of the two might play a more active role in price determination in the short run, both are essential for the market to exist. However, I was stuck on a question:  If markets are scissors, what exactly do they cut? But I was too timid and handicapped by my lack of fluency in English to ask.

As I grew older, I overcame the language barrier. I did well, if not excelled in my studies and realised the importance of economics — not just in engineering, but in every field. Economics plays a crucial role in shaping the world and influencing various aspects of society, politics, and the environment. Transactions are a fundamental part of our daily lives. Even interacting with the environment is involved – for example, we must breathe air to live, have sunlight, drink water, have soil to grow food and so on. When our exchanges are fair, they benefit individuals and promote a more harmonious and sustainable community. Striving for fairness in all transactions can enhance the quality of life for everyone involved. Economics, in this sense, is the axis around which the world moves.

In 2006, I visited Tokyo and witnessed an economic miracle. Having risen from the ashes of World War II, Japan’s astoundingly rapid and complete financial recovery seemed surreal. During this trip, I met many thoughtful people. Though they did not speak fluent English, their expressions were flawless. I was told that Japan’s “economic miracle” was made possible by the cooperation between manufacturers, suppliers, distributors, and banks, organised in close-knit groups called “keiretsu”; the annual wage negotiation between factory owners and workers, called “shunto”; and the guarantee of lifetime employment, called “shushin koyo”, in large corporations.

During a beautiful week in Japan, I observed three school children travelling on the Metro, their school bags tagged with RFID to ensure their safety. They joyfully played a game where each child made a sign behind his back with his hand and then showed his hand. They would either lose or win, depending on the combination of the signs made. My host explained that the game was “Rock, Paper, Scissors”. Each player simultaneously formed one of three shapes with an outstretched hand — a fist signalled a “rock”, a palm represented “paper”, and a fist with the index finger and middle finger extended, forming a V symbolised a pair of “scissors.” Rock wins over scissors as it can blunt them, scissors win over paper as they can cut it, and paper wins over rock because it covers it. If all players choose the same shape, the game is tied and replayed. It’s such a simple yet profound game! This game has stayed with me since then. I often play it when in doubt to guess the outcome.

My friend Suresh Patel at the G.B. Pant University, younger than me by a few years, graduated in agriculture and later entered the banking sector and excelled there. His rise to the position of the Managing Director and CEO of Andhra Bank brought him to Hyderabad. Thus, we met four decades later and had a good time during his stay for over two years. Once, I shared with him about this “game” and brought up my long-standing unanswered question from 1971 – if markets are scissors, what do they cut? A man of a few words, Mr Patel gave me the perspective of a banker – the purpose of money is to provide solid financial support to organisations and projects for economic development. He kept speculative trading and risky investment out of the equation. Mr Patel superannuated in 2017 and later became the Central Vigilance Commissioner of India.

This metaphor of markets as scissors led me to study more. The COVID-19 lockdown and my health issues gave me a lot of time to read books by some great authors. Two such books were The Theory of Moral Sentiments and The Wealth of Nations, written by the Scottish philosopher Adam Smith and published respectively in 1759 and 1776. Running into several hundreds of pages and dotted with examples from that era, a modern reader may wish the books had been more manageable. Still, these books are of immense value as they provide a deep understanding of the origins of economic theories and principles that still underpin much of today’s economic thinking. Smith’s emphasis on individual liberty, free markets, and limited government intervention continues to shape monetary policy and ideology debates.

Just as scissors can cut or divide things, markets have the potential to create both opportunities and societal disparities. So, just as scissors need a tailor’s hand, markets, too, need guidance and control – which can even be intrinsic. Balancing free markets and government intervention involves finding a middle ground for competition and innovation while addressing market failures and ensuring fairness. Some ways to achieve this balance include implementing regulations to prevent monopolies, protecting consumer rights, providing social safety nets, promoting fair competition, and investing in public goods and services. The goal is to harness the benefits of free markets while mitigating their potential negative impacts on the environment and livelihoods. Will this be possible in the emerging digital economy and AI-driven world?

Will the AI, as it becomes mature, be Smith’s “invisible hand” regulating the economy? Will it ensure that technological innovations are deployed responsibly and equitably? Will it make a fair deal for livelihoods, businesses and the environment? By harnessing technology’s potential while mitigating its negative impacts, societies can work towards inclusive and sustainable development for all. Not growing is not an option in the 21^st century, but neither is compromising on moral principles. I believe, in the emerging world, it will be possible and even easier to flourish by following righteous and ethically correct ways.