The satire of the mimic

Autumn 1952, a dawn. There was a delectable nip in the air. A mellow wind was blowing across the barren fields, with no particular intent of reaching anywhere, while the winding dirt path took on an ethereal look in all that fickle, unsettled dust and sublime chaos. On such a pre-dawn, my father as he recalls took a march, down the very lane, the “pagdandi”...

A lesson for all of us

I was reading a report in a newspaper about a foreign delegation of rural and regional leaders visiting India, on a rural leadership programme, traveling to places, visiting villages, understanding community development projects and allied programmes. There was one question that Kiran Bedi had for this delegation “What are your takeaways?” She was keen to...