Rodevra Republic

The Enigmatic Look Women Give One Another I have often wondered what women think when they look at one another. It is usually a silent assessment—nothing said aloud—only a quick scanning with the eyes, absorbing little details. That look is intriguing, and I have never quite understood what goes on in their minds in those brief moments. The other day, at the all-ladies branch of my bank, a woman was standing in front of me—businesslike, with two thick pay-in slip books, sorting out some issue with her account. At the next counter, another woman kept watching her intently. I assumed she was connected to the matter, but the nature of her gaze was different. It even made the customer conscious; she suddenly behaved more “official,” as if putting on an armour. The atmosphere felt slightly uncomfortable. And then, almost casually, the woman at the counter remarked on the customer’s earrings—fish-shaped, unique, and beautiful. That broke the tension immediately. But it left me even more puzz...

She fell twice, the third time made history. A move so dangerous even the World's trapeze artists rarely attempt it: Anna Gosudareva. The more I saw this video, with the caption above, the more I felt that there is something much more to it than a successful attempt after two failed ones. The young acrobat, Anna Gosudareva, has achieved something extraordinary and rarely performed — a quadruple somersault on a Russian bar. The video actually led me to read more, and the more I learned, the more I realised how exceptional this feat is — a genuine peak of human capability, combining strength, timing, mind control, trust, and fearlessness. A Russian bar is a long, slightly flexible pole held on the shoulders of two base performers. The flyer stands on this bar and uses it like a launchpad. When Anna attempts her somersaults, three bodies — hers and the two bases — must move with perfect synchrony. A tiny mistiming of a fraction of a second can send her off-axis. Even a slight tremor ...

Sir’s quote gives meaning and substance to our lives. It suggests that we can live fully in the world—productive, engaged, and useful—and yet find a deeper fulfilment within. When our aim is inner happiness, it does not lie in some distant retreat; it can be realised even when we are in the full flow of work, family, and responsibilities. What Sir essentially states is that the quest for Truth—an inner life—need not stand apart from the outer life of duties. At first sight these two seem to move in opposite directions: one inward and quiet, the other outward and demanding. Yet Sir assures us they can be reconciled. Many lives demonstrate this possibility. A shining example is Lahiri Mahasaya, the disciple of Shri Guru Babaji, who lived the ordinary life of a householder while being one of the most advanced yogis of his time. Lahiri Mahasaya’s life is remembered precisely because it shows that spiritual realization does not require withdrawing from the world. He worked as a governme...

Having just completed my duty, or shall we say my right, by casting my vote, a few observations and thoughts came to mind. The walk to the polling booth is something I take almost every few days, so I was not expecting anything eventful to happen. But I was in for a surprise. Unknown people were greeting me and smiling. One particular person, whom I had neither met nor seen before, actually called out my name and said, “Mahimkar saheb, 4 number lakshat theva.” I noticed regular shopkeepers and party workers standing in groups, and it was not difficult to guess their affiliations. Another thing I noticed was a white band across the road with “200 meters” written on it. Closer to the center, it read “100 meters”. When I had seen this a few days earlier, I had not known what it was for, but today it became clear. Strangely, I noticed one more thing—the streets were extra clean, as if one day’s clean roads would influence our decision! The center itself had standard security measures, and...

  A few statements in the video are real eye-openers, for example, “The bird does not wonder where to go, the planet tells it.” This suggests that Earth and life are in a continuous dialogue, and migration is part of it. Essentially, it means that migration is less an act of will and more an act of alignment. Birds do not consciously “monitor” shifts in magnetic fields, changes in latitude, or the Earth’s tilt; their bodies change in response. Hormones rise, fat accumulates, orientation mechanisms switch on. The conditions for migration are set. In that sense, Earth is not merely the stage where migration happens; it is the conductor, setting a choreographed performance in motion. What stands out is how little birds deliberate or plan these extraordinary journeys. They simply respond to the changes within them, faithfully. This biological receptivity has shaped the animal and plant worlds for millions of years, refining itself into a co-evolved sensitivity. The video’s closing li...

Sir’s quote today speaks of the elusive nature of happiness. He nudges us to look deeper into what happiness truly is and, in doing so, helps us see the futility of chasing it when it is sought in external things. It follows that happiness must be internal. Turning inward, therefore, becomes the very essence of spiritual life. There are many paths to this inward journey, and the Guru’s grace and guidance become vitally important. The disillusionment we experience while seeking happiness outside, and the conscious choice we then make to turn inward, may well be the most important change we can bring about in our lives. In the quotes from the last three days, Sir speaks precisely of this inner shift. It is a life-changing choice, one that takes us closer to the very purpose of our lives. Yet, the moment we turn inward, happiness does not reveal itself immediately. There are years, perhaps even lifetimes, of accumulated conditioning, or muck as Sir calls it, that must be cleared, and much...

In 1970, a 23-year-old physics student at Imperial College London found himself at a crossroads most people will never face. Brian May had spent three years studying cosmic dust — specifically, the zodiacal light, that faint glow created by sunlight reflecting off tiny particles scattered through the solar system.  He’d built instruments, collected data, analyzed measurements. His PhD in astrophysics was within reach. But he was also the guitarist for a band that had just landed a record deal. A band called Queen. Tours were booked. Studio time was scheduled. Momentum was building. If he stepped away for a few months to finish his thesis, the opportunity might disappear forever. So Brian May made the choice that would leave his doctorate unfinished for 36 years. He chose the guitar. What followed was one of the greatest careers in music history. Queen skyrocketed. “Bohemian Rhapsody” exploded into the culture. Stadiums thundered with “We Will Rock You” and “We Are the Champions.”...

I had volunteered to be with a close relative at the hospital, staying with him through the night. It was not much trouble for me, and when I had a chance to be of service, I took it up immediately. This musing is based on my experience over two days at the hospital. It was Saifee Hospital, opposite Charni Road station. The building itself is impressive from the outside, a blend of Islamic and modern architecture, but equally striking are its interiors. Much of what one sees is subdued and understated, creating a calming and soothing atmosphere. Credit must go to the architect, Parag Parekh, who drew upon the Fatimid architectural style from the 10th to 12th centuries, lending the space a quiet dignity rather than overt grandeur. As you enter the hospital, one thing is immediately noticeable: you don’t quite get a “hospital feel.” One of the reasons is the absence of that familiar hospital smell. Even in the wards, the air feels neutral — not masked by any artificial fragrance either. ...

 An old silent pond— a frog jumps into the pond, splash! Silence again. This weekend’s Musings arose from an invitation to reflect on these lines by Matsuo Bashō. What began as an invitation soon turned into a gentle challenge, as it became clear that the poem invites many ways of seeing. It can even invite silence, as we honour the stillness of the pond. The image is simple, almost bare. A still pond. A sudden leap. A brief splash. And then silence again. Nothing is explained, nothing is concluded. What is offered is a moment, complete in itself. Yet, being a Musing, I must still arrive at my own reading. In these lines, Bashō draws us into a world where there is no past or future — both constructs of the mind, or the ego. He lives entirely moment to moment, in full awareness of it. The past becomes nothing more than memory, a storehouse of conditioning, biases, and habits. The future is merely the drama projected from that past. In such a state of awareness, action is no longer ...