Saturday, October 31, 2026

Poverty and Hunger Index

Poverty Reduction Without Nutritional Security

According to the World Bank’s April 2026 estimates, India’s extreme poverty has fallen to 2.6%, while broader poverty remains at 16.1% (2023–24).

The World Bank’s poverty thresholds are $3 per person per day for extreme poverty and $4.20 for poverty in lower-middle-income countries, at 2021 PPP. These translate to approximately ₹58 and ₹82 per day at 2021 prices, or ₹68 and ₹95 at 2023–24 prices. Thus, monthly consumption thresholds are ₹2,040 and ₹2,850, and annual thresholds ₹24,820 and ₹34,675 respectively. These amounts cover food, clothing, shelter and other basic necessities, not just food.

However, economic gains have not translated adequately into nutritional security. The 2026 Global Hunger Index ranks India 100th among 122 countries. Its indicators reveal that 9.8% of the population is undernourished, 29.3% of children under five are stunted, 19% suffer from wasting, and 2.7% die before reaching five years of age. This reflects a serious challenge to the nutritional health of India’s future human capital.

India must acknowledge UPA-II’s contribution through the National Food Security Act, 2013. The COVID-19 crisis led to additional free foodgrain distribution, continued by the present government for 81.35 crore beneficiaries for five years from January 2024. While its social protection value is undeniable, one may also question the role of electoral considerations in its continuation.

The larger concern is that India invests more in visible infrastructure than in nutrition, public health and human development. At the household level too, people often economise on nutritious food while spending on mobile recharges, fuel and other avoidable expenses.

Economic progress must be measured not merely by what we build and consume, but also by how well we nourish our people. A nation cannot build its human capital on roads and bridges alone.


Friday, October 30, 2026

Aryan

From the Measurement of Noses to the Politics of Birth: The Making of Social Hierarchies

There is an interesting historical irony in how physical features and cultural identities have been used to construct social hierarchies.

In India, British colonial administrator and anthropologist Herbert Hope Risley used the measurement of noses to classify communities. During his Ethnographic Survey of Bengal (1885–1891), he employed anthropometry, particularly the nasal index—the ratio of the width of the nose to its height. As Census Commissioner in 1901, he extended this approach to classify India’s population into supposed racial types. His work, published in The People of India (1908), attempted to establish a relationship between caste and racial ancestry. These racial classifications are now regarded as scientifically unsound. MANAS +1

In Nazi Germany, Adolf Hitler and his ideologues promoted the mythical concept of an Aryan master race, idealising Nordic physical features such as blond hair, blue eyes and fair skin. The idea was used to legitimise racial discrimination, particularly against Jews, Roma and other communities. Thus, a linguistic term was transformed into a false biological hierarchy. Holocaust Encyclopedia

The migration of Indo-Aryan speakers

The history of the term Ārya is much older than either colonial racial theories or Nazi propaganda.

The prevailing scholarly model, supported by ancient DNA research, traces the movement of Steppe pastoralist populations into Central and South Asia from around 2000 BCE, following earlier movements beginning in the third millennium BCE. These populations were associated with the Eurasian Steppe, a vast grassland region extending across parts of Central Asia and Eastern Europe. Their pastoral economy depended on livestock and the resources of these grasslands.

Their movements were not simply a search for grazing land; they involved complex demographic, economic and cultural processes. Their descendants contributed to the ancestry of later Indo-Iranian-speaking populations, while linguistic and cultural interactions shaped the development of Vedic society in the subcontinent. PMC +1

It is important to distinguish the migration of people from the spread of languages and culture. The term Ārya in the Vedic tradition cannot simply be treated as the name of a biologically uniform migrating race.

From cultural identity to social hierarchy

In early Vedic literature, Ārya appears in contrast with Dāsa and Dasyu. The distinction had cultural, linguistic and possibly social dimensions. Its precise original meaning remains debated. Over time, however, Ārya also acquired connotations of nobility, respectability and social status. Encyclopaedia Iranica +1

Indian society gradually developed increasingly elaborate systems of social classification. The fourfold Varna framework and numerous hereditary Jātis became associated with distinctions of occupation, ritual status, marriage, food and social interaction. Access to education, religious authority, resources and public positions was also distributed unequally.

These divisions were neither created at one moment nor uniformly applied across India. They evolved over centuries, with considerable regional variation. Nevertheless, birth-based status became a powerful mechanism for reproducing privilege and discrimination.

The process of Sanskritisation, a term later coined by sociologist M. N. Srinivas, describes how some communities sought upward social mobility by adopting the customs and practices of socially dominant groups. It illustrates how cultural assimilation often meant moving towards the established hierarchy rather than challenging its foundations.

The historical irony

The word Ārya could signify a noble, honourable or worthy person. Buddhist philosophy gave it an especially profound ethical and spiritual meaning through expressions such as Ārya-satya—the Noble Truths.

Yet, in the evolution of social institutions, nobility increasingly came to be associated with birth and inherited status rather than individual conduct.

Perhaps this is the greatest irony of the history of Ārya: a word that could signify nobility of character eventually became associated, in some social settings, with privilege by birth.

And the colonial officer measuring noses and the Nazi ideologue examining eye colour were, in their own very different historical contexts, attempting to give physical justification to hierarchies that human societies had constructed.

Historical qualification: The article distinguishes established evidence of Steppe-related migration from the much more contested interpretations of the origins and evolution of caste. It does not assume that all social stratification in India originated with Indo-Aryan migration.


Saturday, October 17, 2026

Navratri: The Divine Energies Within Us

Navratri: The Divine Energies Within Us

The nine forms of the Mother Goddess worshipped during Navratri can broadly be understood through the three gunas or qualities of nature—Sattva, Rajas and Tamas—respectively symbolised by Maha Saraswati, Maha Lakshmi and Maha Kali.

The first three days are dedicated to Shailputri, Brahmacharini and Chandraghanta, associated here with the Sattvik energy of Maha Saraswati. This energy represents learning, wisdom, education and the cultivation of knowledge and skills.

The middle three days honour Kushmanda, Skandamata and Katyayani, associated with the Rajasik energy of Maha Lakshmi. This energy symbolises creation, reproduction, sustenance, prosperity and protection—the forces that enable life and society to flourish.

The last three days are dedicated to Kalaratri, Mahagauri and Siddhidatri, associated with the transformative energy of Maha Kali. This energy represents the destruction of ignorance and negativity, inner purification, spiritual awakening and the realisation of one’s inner potential.

Navratri: A Celebration of Life, Health and Nature

Navratri arrives after the monsoon, during Sharad Ritu, a seasonal transition historically associated with an increased burden of certain diseases. In this context, the ancient blessing “Jeevema Sharadah Shatam”—may we live for a hundred autumns—expresses the aspiration for a long and healthy life.

Over generations, traditions of seasonal discipline, dietary regulation, fasting and prayer became intertwined with the celebration. Ayurveda developed its own understanding of seasonal health and the importance of adapting our lifestyle to nature’s rhythms. Fasting, when practised sensibly and according to one’s health needs, may encourage dietary discipline; community worship, music and Garba bring people together in a shared celebration of life.

The slaying of Mahishasura can also be interpreted symbolically as the triumph of life-affirming forces over destructive ones. The real battle is not merely against an external demon but against the ignorance, unhealthy habits and negative impulses that weaken us. Our innate capacity for resilience, supported by appropriate healthcare and a balanced lifestyle, is among our greatest protections.

Where is the Mother Goddess not present? She is worshipped everywhere—in the world around us and, symbolically, within every living being. Her three energies offer a meaningful framework for life: Maha Saraswati inspires us to acquire knowledge and skills through education; Maha Lakshmi guides us towards productive work, livelihood and prosperity; and Maha Kali, also revered as Durga, gives us the courage to confront destructive forces and overcome our inner weaknesses.

Together, these energies remind us that a fulfilling life requires wisdom to understand nature, enterprise to sustain ourselves and courage to overcome adversity. When we respect nature, practise moderation, care for our bodies and live with faith, discipline and compassion, we create the conditions for a healthier and more harmonious life.

Navratri, therefore, is not merely a festival of worship and dance. It can also be understood as a celebration of the divine energies within us—the energies that help us learn, create, sustain, protect and transform ourselves.

17 October 2026


नवरात्रि: हमारे भीतर विद्यमान दिव्य शक्तियाँ


नवरात्रि में पूजी जाने वाली माँ दुर्गा के नौ स्वरूपों को प्रकृति के तीन गुणों—सत्त्व, रजस और तमस—के माध्यम से व्यापक रूप से समझा जा सकता है। ये तीनों गुण क्रमशः महासरस्वती, महालक्ष्मी और महाकाली की शक्तियों के प्रतीक माने जा सकते हैं।


पहले तीन दिन शैलपुत्री, ब्रह्मचारिणी और चंद्रघंटा को समर्पित हैं। इन स्वरूपों को यहाँ महासरस्वती की सात्त्विक ऊर्जा से जोड़ा गया है। यह ऊर्जा अध्ययन, ज्ञान, शिक्षा, विवेक और कौशल अर्जित करने की प्रेरणा देती है।


मध्य के तीन दिन कूष्मांडा, स्कंदमाता और कात्यायनी की आराधना के लिए समर्पित हैं। ये महालक्ष्मी की राजसिक ऊर्जा के प्रतीक हैं। यह ऊर्जा सृजन, प्रजनन, पालन-पोषण, समृद्धि और संरक्षण का प्रतिनिधित्व करती है—वे शक्तियाँ जो जीवन और समाज को आगे बढ़ने तथा फलने-फूलने में सक्षम बनाती हैं।


अंतिम तीन दिन कालरात्रि, महागौरी और सिद्धिदात्री को समर्पित हैं। इन्हें महाकाली की परिवर्तनकारी शक्ति से जोड़ा जा सकता है। यह ऊर्जा अज्ञान और नकारात्मकता के विनाश, आंतरिक शुद्धि, आध्यात्मिक जागृति और अपनी अंतर्निहित क्षमताओं की अनुभूति का प्रतीक है।


नवरात्रि: जीवन, स्वास्थ्य और प्रकृति का उत्सव


नवरात्रि वर्षा ऋतु के बाद शरद ऋतु में आती है। ऐतिहासिक रूप से इस ऋतु-संधि को कुछ रोगों के बढ़ते प्रकोप से जोड़कर देखा जाता रहा है। इस संदर्भ में प्राचीन आशीर्वचन “जीवेम शरदः शतम्”—हम सौ शरद ऋतुओं तक जीवित रहें—दीर्घायु और स्वस्थ जीवन की कामना व्यक्त करता है।


समय के साथ ऋतु के अनुकूल जीवनशैली, खान-पान में संयम, उपवास, प्रार्थना और धार्मिक अनुशासन जैसी परंपराएँ इस उत्सव से जुड़ती गईं। आयुर्वेद ने भी ऋतुओं के अनुसार जीवनशैली में परिवर्तन करने और स्वास्थ्य की देखभाल करने पर बल दिया है। विवेकपूर्ण ढंग से और अपनी स्वास्थ्य-स्थिति के अनुकूल किया गया उपवास आहार में अनुशासन लाने में सहायक हो सकता है। वहीं, सामूहिक पूजा, संगीत और गरबा लोगों को एक साझा उत्सव में जोड़ते हैं और जीवन के प्रति उल्लास की भावना जगाते हैं।


महिषासुर के वध को जीवन-पोषक शक्तियों की विनाशकारी शक्तियों पर विजय के प्रतीक के रूप में भी समझा जा सकता है। वास्तविक संघर्ष केवल किसी बाहरी राक्षस से नहीं, बल्कि अज्ञान, अस्वस्थ आदतों और उन नकारात्मक प्रवृत्तियों से भी है जो हमें भीतर से कमजोर करती हैं। उचित स्वास्थ्य-सेवा और संतुलित जीवनशैली के साथ हमारी स्वाभाविक प्रतिरोधक क्षमता और परिस्थितियों से उबरने की शक्ति हमारी सबसे बड़ी सुरक्षा बन सकती है।


माँ कहाँ नहीं हैं? वे सर्वत्र हैं—हमारे चारों ओर की प्रकृति में और प्रतीकात्मक रूप से प्रत्येक जीव के भीतर भी। उनकी तीन शक्तियाँ हमें जीवन का सार समझाती हैं। महासरस्वती शिक्षा के माध्यम से ज्ञान और कौशल अर्जित करने की प्रेरणा देती हैं; महालक्ष्मी हमें कर्म, आजीविका, उद्यम और समृद्धि की दिशा में आगे बढ़ाती हैं; और महाकाली, जिन्हें दुर्गा के रूप में भी पूजा जाता है, हमें विनाशकारी शक्तियों का सामना करने तथा अपनी आंतरिक कमजोरियों पर विजय पाने का साहस देती हैं।


ये तीनों शक्तियाँ हमें याद दिलाती हैं कि सार्थक जीवन के लिए प्रकृति को समझने का विवेक, स्वयं और समाज का भरण-पोषण करने का उद्यम तथा विपरीत परिस्थितियों पर विजय पाने का साहस आवश्यक है। जब हम प्रकृति का सम्मान करते हैं, संयम बरतते हैं, अपने शरीर की देखभाल करते हैं और आस्था, अनुशासन तथा करुणा के साथ जीवन जीते हैं, तब स्वस्थ और सामंजस्यपूर्ण जीवन की संभावनाएँ बढ़ती हैं।


इस प्रकार, नवरात्रि केवल पूजा और नृत्य का पर्व नहीं है। इसे अपने भीतर विद्यमान दिव्य शक्तियों के उत्सव के रूप में भी समझा जा सकता है—वे शक्तियाँ जो हमें सीखने, सृजन करने, पालन-पोषण करने, संरक्षण देने और स्वयं को रूपांतरित करने की क्षमता प्रदान करती हैं।


Sunday, October 11, 2026

मिलजुलकर खाओ।

 

मिलजुलकर खाओ। 

एक पंगत की कहानी, जीवन के दर्शन के साथ। सब धर्मो के उपदेश में यह कहानी अक्सर कही जाती है। 

एक सज्जन ने बड़े प्रेम से सत्संग और सहभोज का आयोजन किया। भोजन की सुगंध और सत्संग की महिमा ऐसी फैली कि आमंत्रित अतिथियों से लगभग दुगुने लोग पहुँच गए।

आयोजक धर्मसंकट में पड़ गए। बरामदा छोटा था और अतिथियों की संख्या बड़ी। सबको एक साथ बैठाना संभव नहीं था। अंततः तय हुआ कि आधे लोग पहले भोजन करेंगे और शेष आधे बाद में।

लेकिन भोजन की एक विचित्र शर्त थी!

हर व्यक्ति के दोनों हाथों को लकड़ी की पट्टियों के सहारे इस तरह बाँध दिया जाएगा कि कोहनियाँ मुड़ न सकें। भोजन सामने परोसा जाएगा, पर उसे खाने के लिए केवल तीस मिनट मिलेंगे। समय पूरा होते ही पंगत उठ जाएगी।

पहली पंगत : लड्डू उछले, पूरियाँ बिखरीं!

घंटी बजी और भोजन शुरू हुआ। सामने गरमागरम पूरियाँ, सुगंधित सब्ज़ी, दाल-चावल और रस से भरे लड्डू सजे थे। भूख से व्याकुल लोगों ने अपने-अपने हाथों में भोजन उठाया और अपने मुँह तक पहुँचाने की कोशिश करने लगे।

लेकिन हाथ सीधे थे, कोहनियाँ मुड़ नहीं सकती थीं!

बस, फिर क्या था! कोई पूरी को उछालकर मुँह में डालने की कोशिश करता, तो पूरी मुँह के बजाय सामने वाले की पगड़ी पर जा गिरती। कोई सब्ज़ी का कौर उछालता, तो सब्ज़ी मुँह तक पहुँचने से पहले ही कपड़ों पर अपना रंग दिखा देती। किसी ने लड्डू उछाला तो वह मुँह में जाने के बजाय सामने बैठे सज्जन की गोद में जा गिरा। कहीं दाल छलक रही थी, कहीं पूरियाँ हवा में उड़ रही थीं और कहीं लड्डुओं की लुढ़कन से पंगत में हँसी-ठिठोली मची थी।

हर कोई अपने मुँह तक भोजन पहुँचाने के लिए हाथ उछाल रहा था, गर्दन आगे बढ़ा रहा था और मुँह को कौर के रास्ते में लाने की जुगत भिड़ा रहा था। भोजन कम नहीं था, भूख भी खूब थी, लेकिन हर व्यक्ति अपनी ही थाली और अपने ही पेट की चिंता में लगा था।

इस उछल-कूद में तीस मिनट कब बीत गए, किसी को पता ही नहीं चला। जब समय पूरा होने की घोषणा हुई, तो सामने पकवानों से भरी पत्तलें थीं, कपड़ों पर सब्ज़ी के दाग थे, जमीन पर पूरियाँ बिखरी थीं और पेट अब भी खाली थे।

भोजन सामने था, लेकिन भोजन का सुख किसी को नसीब नहीं हुआ! 

देखते-देखते तीस मिनट पूरे हो गए। पकवान सामने थे, भूख पेट में थी और भोजन का स्वाद केवल कल्पना में रह गया था।

आयोजक ने समय समाप्त होने की घोषणा की। पहली पंगत को उठना पड़ा। लोगों के चेहरे पर असंतोष था। भोजन की कोई कमी नहीं थी, फिर भी पेट खाली रह गए।

दूसरी पंगत : अपनी नहीं, सामने वाले की चिंता!

अब दूसरी पंगत बैठी। वही बरामदा, वही पत्तलें, वही पकवान और हाथों पर लकड़ी की वही पट्टियाँ।

लेकिन इस बार एक व्यक्ति ने सामने बैठे अतिथि को देखा और सहज ही कहा, “भाई साहब, आपके हाथ तो मेरे मुँह तक पहुँच सकते हैं। आप मुझे खिला दीजिए, मैं आपको खिला देता हूँ!”

बस, एक छोटी-सी बात ने पूरी पंगत का गणित बदल दिया।

सामने वाले ने कौर उठाकर उसके मुँह में डाल दिया। उसने भी अपने हाथ का भोजन सामने बैठे व्यक्ति को खिला दिया।

फिर क्या था! एक ओर से पूरी उठी तो दूसरी ओर से सब्जी का कौर आया। कोई सामने वाले को दाल-चावल खिलाता, तो कोई मिठाई का स्वाद चखाता। हाथ सीधे थे, पर मन उदार हो गए थे। कोहनियाँ नहीं मुड़ सकती थीं, लेकिन रिश्तों में झुकने की सहजता आ गई थी।

किसी को अपने मुँह तक हाथ ले जाने की आवश्यकता ही नहीं रही। हर व्यक्ति दूसरे का पेट भरने में लगा था और इस प्रक्रिया में उसका अपना पेट भी भरता जा रहा था।

पंगत में हँसी थी, संतोष था और भोजन का आनंद था। तीस मिनट कब बीत गए, किसी को पता ही नहीं चला।

समय पूरा हुआ तो दूसरी पंगत के लोग तृप्त होकर उठे। वही भोजन, वही समय-सीमा और वही शारीरिक बाधा—लेकिन परिणाम बिल्कुल अलग!

अंतर कहाँ था?

पहली पंगत में हर व्यक्ति सोच रहा था—मैं अपना पेट कैसे भरूँ?

दूसरी पंगत में हर व्यक्ति सोच रहा था—मैं सामने वाले का पेट कैसे भरूँ?

परिणाम यह हुआ कि पहली पंगत में सबके सामने भोजन होते हुए भी लोग भूखे रह गए, जबकि दूसरी पंगत में एक-दूसरे को खिलाते हुए सब तृप्त हो गए।

व्यवहार में अंतर है।

साधन कम नहीं थे। अंतर केवल दृष्टि और व्यवहार में होता है।जहाँ हर व्यक्ति केवल अपने लिए जीता है, वहाँ प्रचुरता के बीच भी अभाव है। जहाँ व्यक्ति दूसरों के सुख में अपना सुख देखता है, वहाँ सीमित साधनों में भी समृद्धि है।

जीवन का सबसे बड़ा विरोधाभास यही है—दूसरों को देने से हमारा हिस्सा हमेशा कम नहीं होता; कई बार वही हमारा पेट भरने का एकमात्र रास्ता होता है।

समाज, परिवार, शासन और संसार—सबकी सफलता इसी सरल सिद्धांत पर निर्भर है:

एक हाथ दूसरे को सहारा दे, एक व्यक्ति दूसरे का हाथ बँटाए और एक मन दूसरे मन की चिंता करे।

क्योंकि अंततः प्रश्न यह नहीं है कि हमारे सामने कितना भोजन रखा है, बल्कि यह है कि हम उस भोजन को बाँटने की कला जानते हैं या नहीं।


Eat Together, Live Together

A Story of One Dining Row and the Philosophy of Life

This story is often told in the teachings of different religions to convey a simple yet profound truth: we can nourish ourselves by learning to nourish others.

A gentleman lovingly organised a gathering for spiritual discourse followed by a community meal. The aroma of food and the appeal of the spiritual gathering spread far and wide, and nearly twice as many people arrived as had been invited.

The host found himself in a dilemma. The veranda was small, while the number of guests was large. It was impossible to accommodate everyone at the same time. Eventually, it was decided that half the guests would eat first and the remaining half afterwards.

But there was a peculiar condition attached to the meal!

Each person’s hands would be secured with wooden splints in such a way that the elbows could not bend. Food would be served in front of them, but they would have only thirty minutes to eat. Once the time was up, the dining row would have to disperse.

The First Row: Laddoos Flew, Pooris Scattered!

The bell rang, and the meal began. Before the guests lay hot pooris, fragrant vegetable curry, dal, rice and laddoos soaked in syrup. Hungry and eager, everyone picked up the food and tried to bring it to their own mouth.

But their arms remained straight. Their elbows could not bend!

What happened next was pure chaos. Someone tried tossing a poori into his mouth, only for it to land on the turban of the person sitting opposite. Another flung a morsel of vegetable curry towards his mouth, but the curry splattered across his clothes before it could reach its destination. Someone tossed a laddoo, which missed his mouth entirely and landed in the lap of the gentleman seated opposite him.

Dal spilled here, pooris flew through the air there, and laddoos rolled across the dining row, provoking bursts of laughter and playful commotion.

Everyone was waving their arms, stretching their necks and manoeuvring their mouths in desperate attempts to catch a morsel. The food was plentiful, and their hunger was genuine, but each person was preoccupied with his own plate and his own stomach.

Amid all the frantic activity, nobody noticed how quickly the thirty minutes passed. When the announcement came that time was up, the plates were still laden with food, clothes were stained with curry, pooris lay scattered on the ground, and stomachs remained empty.

The food was right in front of them, yet nobody had experienced the pleasure of eating!

The host declared the time over, and the first row had to get up. Disappointment was written on their faces. There had been no shortage of food, yet they had gone hungry.

The Second Row: Think of the Person Opposite You!

Now it was the turn of the second row. The same veranda, the same plates, the same delicacies and the same wooden splints restricting their arms.

But this time, one guest looked at the person sitting opposite him and said spontaneously:

“Brother, my hands can reach your mouth, and yours can reach mine. Why don’t you feed me while I feed you?”

A simple observation transformed the entire arrangement.

The man opposite picked up a morsel and placed it in his mouth. In return, he fed the other person from his own plate.

And so the miracle began!

One hand offered a poori while the other brought a morsel of vegetable curry. Someone fed his neighbour dal and rice, while another offered him a taste of the sweets. Their arms remained straight, but their hearts had opened. Their elbows could not bend, but they had learned the art of bending towards one another with kindness.

Nobody needed to bring food to his own mouth. Everyone concentrated on feeding the person opposite, and in the process, everyone’s own hunger was satisfied.

There was laughter, contentment and the sheer joy of sharing a meal. The thirty minutes passed before anyone realised it.

When time was called, the guests in the second row rose with full stomachs and satisfied hearts. The food was the same, the time limit was the same, and the physical constraint was the same—yet the outcome was entirely different!

Where Did the Difference Lie?

In the first row, everyone was thinking:

How can I fill my own stomach?

In the second row, everyone was thinking:

How can I fill the stomach of the person sitting opposite me?

As a result, the first row remained hungry despite having plenty of food before them, while the second row enjoyed a satisfying meal simply by feeding one another.

The difference lay in their attitude and behaviour.

The resources had not changed. Only their perspective had changed.

Where everyone lives solely for themselves, scarcity can persist even amid abundance. Where people find happiness in the well-being of others, even limited resources can create a sense of prosperity.

This is one of life’s greatest paradoxes: giving to others does not necessarily diminish our share. Sometimes, it is the only way to fulfil our own needs.

Whether in society, family, governance or the world at large, success depends on this simple principle:

Let one hand support another. Let one person lend a helping hand to another. Let one heart care for another.

For, ultimately, the question is not how much food is placed before us, but whether we have learned the art of sharing it.

Life becomes fulfilling not when everyone struggles to feed themselves, but when everyone cares enough to feed one another.


Tuesday, October 6, 2026

Win Big: A Lesson from the Sequoias

Win Big: A Lesson from the Sequoias

“It is a big world for a little seed.”

A Sequoia begins life as something almost insignificant—a tiny seed in a vast forest. Millions of seeds are produced because only a very small number will survive the hazards of nature and grow into giants. Ultimately, perhaps only one seed from a mature tree needs to reach maturity for the forest to continue. I found this simple fact deeply moving. It seemed almost like a metaphor for human life: the odds may be against us, but the possibility of becoming something extraordinary always remains.

My visit to the giant Sequoias began after a brief exploration of San Francisco. We saw the Golden Gate Bridge, the waterfront and port area, Chinatown and drove through the city's streets before beginning the long journey towards Sequoia National Park.

The Golden Gate Bridge itself had already given me a lesson in human determination. Conceived and built during the difficult years of the Great Depression, the bridge was financed through bonds and opened in 1937. Its enormous towers and suspension cables represented not only engineering achievement but also the willingness of people to undertake something seemingly impossible during a period of economic hardship. Looking at it, I thought that great achievements often begin when circumstances appear least favourable.

After nearly 300 miles of driving, we reached the Three Rivers area near Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks in the evening. After checking into the Comfort Inn and having a simple supper of ready-to-eat Indian food, we went for a walk beside the highway.

It happened to be the night before Dev Diwali. The moon was exceptionally bright. Away from the lights and pollution of a large city, the full moon appeared almost extraordinarily close and luminous. I remember thinking of the old Hindi expression “Chaudhavi ka Chand.” The walk became unexpectedly meditative. Under the vast sky, in the cool night air, there was little to do except walk, look upward and listen to the silence.

The little town had everything a visitor needed—accommodation, restaurants, a grocery store, a bank and a post office. It struck me as a simple but effective lesson in tourism infrastructure: a natural attraction becomes economically useful to a region only when visitors have the basic facilities to stay, eat, travel and enjoy it comfortably.

The following morning, we drove into the forest.

Sequoia National Park lies in the southern Sierra Nevada and is renowned for its giant sequoia trees. The landscape rises dramatically from foothills to high mountain country, eventually reaching Mount Whitney, the highest point in the contiguous United States. In early November, a light covering of snow had begun to transform the forest. The giant trunks, evergreen foliage and patches of white created a landscape that looked almost timeless.

But it was the trees themselves that overwhelmed me.

The General Sherman Tree, one of the world's largest trees by volume, stood like a living monument. Around it were hundreds of other giant sequoias. Some had already lived for more than two thousand years. They had stood through the rise and fall of kingdoms, empires, civilizations and technologies. When these trees were young, much of what we now call recorded human history had yet to unfold.

I stood before one of them and tried to imagine its age.

What had the world looked like when this tree was a seed? What rulers had come and gone? How many generations of human beings had lived and disappeared while the tree quietly continued to grow?

The forest made human time appear very small.

I also noticed the visitors. Birdwatchers moved quietly with long camera lenses, waiting patiently for a bird to appear in the right frame. Squirrels moved among the trees, and signs of deer and other wildlife added to the sense that this was not simply a collection of trees but a living ecosystem.

The visitor centre was modest but thoughtfully organized, with displays explaining the forest, its wildlife and its natural history. Maps, signboards and trails made the enormous landscape accessible to ordinary visitors. It reminded me again that good public administration often works best when it becomes almost invisible—when information, infrastructure and systems are arranged so well that the visitor simply experiences the place.

There were still places I could not see because of the limited time. I had visited one of the canyons but could not explore Crystal Cave. The forest seemed to demand more time than I had available. Some places are like that: one visit introduces them to you, but does not exhaust them.

Yet the greatest lesson came from the trees.

A Sequoia does not begin as a giant. It begins as a tiny seed in a dangerous world. Fire, wind, drought, disease and competition threaten its survival. Millions of seeds may fall, but only a few become mature trees. And yet the forest continues.

That thought stayed with me long after I left the park.

In human life too, we begin as small and vulnerable as seeds. We encounter failures, disappointments, competition, uncertainty and circumstances beyond our control. We cannot determine every hazard that will come our way. But we can determine whether we continue to grow.

The Sequoia does not hurry. It simply keeps growing—year after year, decade after decade, century after century.

Perhaps that is the secret.

Do not worry about how small the seed looks today. Give it the conditions to grow, survive the storms and keep reaching upward.

As I stood among those ancient trees, I wrote a line for myself:

“Look at a Sequoia and imagine that you are a Sequoia seed. Then turn the wheel of life and see if you will WIN BIG.”

The giant tree was not always a giant.

It was once a seed.

Win Big.

 

Powered by Blogger.