A message to all my readers When I first began writing down my stories in this quiet space, it was nothing more than an open diary. A place to put memories that needed somewhere to rest, reflections gathered over a lifetime, and thoughts that felt too personal—or perhaps simply too ordinary—to share in conversation. Conventional wisdom often suggests that personal musings rarely accomplish much on the wider internet. There are no frameworks here, no quick advice, and no polished agendas. Just the raw textures of life as I have experienced it: the sudden turns, the quiet routines, the moments of doubt, and the steady work of beginning again. Recently, as a small corner quietly crossed 30,000 reads, I paused to look more closely at the numbers. What moved me was not just the milestone itself, but where those visits were coming from. While some readers join from home here in India, so many of you are reading from entirely different corners of the earth—from Singapore across the seas ...
Holiday Reading was a wonderful concept in my children’s school. They were given a book to read in English and Hindi during summer vacations, and then their understanding was tested, and later prizes were showered during the annual function, which again were books. These books were classics, and a few were even contemporary; I, too, got to read new kinds of literature with them.
The curriculum in ICSE and ISC when I studied was relentless. There was A Midsummer’s Night Dream, Julius Caesar, Joan of Arc, Richard the Second, and Mayor of Casterbridge in successive years. I reminisced to my boys. They seemed to find it incredibly amusing that their mother performed poorly in the subject. To add salt to my injury, my grandfather even shared a school report card that stated “Needs to work hard in English” and a grade of 4, marked in red, describing the inevitable. This report card remains the only family heirloom of my academic record, despite being in tatters now.
There’s a silver lining to every cloud. Besides a comment for English, there was “Diligent in Science. Keep it up!” in the remark section. This report card had let the floodgates open, and no consolation was sufficient to stop the deluge of emotions, as far as I remember.
As I write, I can only think of the source of motivation for this one-liner. It stays with me even today, after four decades, despite its tattered condition. Ever since, I have worked on my English and taken Science as the stream of my profession to make a living.

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