The Last Voice in Art Appreciation

 

When it comes to art appreciation, I often wonder why my opinion doesn’t matter. I know why — but it has little to do with how much knowledge I have about the subject. And I am not alone in being inconsequential.

In truth, the perspective of the common man has rarely influenced what is considered valuable or significant in the art world — and that is unlikely to change. Art, much like power in society, is shaped by those with the resources and reach to dictate cultural narratives, regardless of what the majority feels.

When it comes to art criticism, the voice of the man on the street rarely counts if it doesn’t align with that of the elite critics. His thoughts live and die in informal corners — at tea stalls in Kolkata or Trivandrum — but seldom travel beyond.

The psychology of how we perceive art is complex — a code difficult to breach, an algorithm impossible to decipher. There are countless stories of world-class musicians performing incognito in train stations, unnoticed by passersby. Beautiful photographs appear on our screen savers all the time — if only we are ready to notice. Even great poetry, tucked inside a “Good Morning” message, rarely earns a second look. The pattern is everywhere.

Consider Picasso: he never painted for the masses. He stripped art to its essentials, challenged convention, and sought truth through childlike simplicity — much like our prehistoric ancestors might have done on cave walls. Satyajit Ray captured a similar sentiment through Dutta’s character, revealing how true artistry often lies in seeing differently, not merely in seeing more.

Not everyone can — or even wants to — see the world the way Picasso, Ray, or Calatrava saw. And perhaps that’s the quiet beauty of art itself: it doesn’t demand approval; it simply waits for the few who pause, look, and truly see.

Art continues to remind us that beauty isn’t democratic—it reveals itself not to everyone, but to those willing to slow down, observe, and feel beyond the frame.

The Lost Art of Repair and Reuse

 

Photo by Ricardo Santanna: Link

For three weeks, I drove around with a pair of favorite shoes in the car. The mission was simple — to replace their worn-out soles. The upper leather was still perfect, sturdy, and familiar. Poetically speaking, the sole was giving up while the soul was still full of spirit.

In Kolkata, there used to be plenty of shoemakers, many from the Chinese community. But for three weeks, I couldn’t find one. The shoes still rest quietly in the back of the car — waiting for a craftsman who can bring them back to life.

As I sat on the couch one afternoon, the smell of shoe polish from my school days drifted back, carrying with it a flood of memories.

Those leather shoes we wore as children were worn out by the end of each day — from kicking stones, chasing balls, and splashing through muddy puddles. Each morning, we had to restore some level of decency before school. It was less about polishing and more about covering the grey with black Cherry Blossom. When the leather finally gave way, the shoemaker stitched it back to life. Back then, like cats — shoes too had nine lives.

They were the shoe doctors — the cobblers. Some had fixed spots at street corners; others went house to house on Sundays offering their craft.

Then the sneakers arrived — fabric, plastic, bright, and carefree. They needed no polish, no shiner, no cobbler, and were beyond repair. The little tin of Kiwi sat forgotten, until even Kiwi itself disappeared from the shelves.

With affluence, we began losing the art of repair — that quiet craftsmanship which challenged us to spot the patch. It wasn’t just the cobblers. Expert seamstresses once repaired torn clothes so skillfully that the mending would vanish into the fabric — an art called rafoo in Indian languages.

Shoemakers weren’t the only ones who took the hit. So did the tailors. Once ubiquitous, the neighborhood tailor who stitched men’s clothes has almost disappeared. One by one, many professions quietly folded into memory, swept aside by innovation and convenience.

Yet Indian philosophy has always seen life as cyclical, not linear — and perhaps that’s why change doesn’t only erase; it often circles back. The turntable spins again. Vinyl records return, now as luxury. Fountain pens glisten once more in lacquer and gold. Winding watches tick with Swiss precision. You have bespoke shoemakers at a premium, and tailors who craft suits for those who choose individuality over mass production. Cars with manual gearshifts roar again — toys for those who can afford nostalgia.

When the common man moves on, the old ways sometimes make a comeback — polished into object de désir.

Shoes, pens, suits, records — it was never just about the objects. It was about the rituals, the hands that kept them alive, and the rhythm they brought to our everyday life.

Winds of change sweep through, taking much with them. But sometimes, the wind circles back — and what was once ordinary returns, perfected by technology yet dressed in memory.

If you enjoyed this reflection, share it to keep the art of repair and reuse alive at least in our memories — and explore other stories that celebrate the beauty of everyday life.

The Three Futures of Humanity: How Technology Could Redefine What It Means to Be Human

Photo by Mehmet Turgut Kirkgoz : Link

As technology accelerates faster than our collective understanding, humanity stands at a quiet crossroads. The choices we make today — about wealth, biology, and artificial intelligence — may soon redefine not only our societies but the very essence of being human.

And we cannot be sure that future generations will be grateful for the world we leave behind.

As the economic divide widens, the outlines of a new social order begin to emerge — one that may divide humanity into three broad groups:

1. The Rich — the “Ranchers”: those wealthy enough to purchase longevity, intelligence, and prosperity through biological and technological enhancement.

2. The Hybrids: engineered beings, part human and part machine, designed for efficiency — lab-grown sapiens created to serve specific roles without complaint or question.

3. The Commoners: the unaugmented majority, living within systems designed by and for the powerful few — unwanted, replaceable, and without real leverage.

As the elite extend their lifespans and influence, they may come to resemble modern-day ranchers, while the commoners live out short, cyclical existences — birth, work, and death — guided, persuaded, and manipulated by narratives crafted from above.

Throughout history, life has evolved by solving problems — each challenge a question posed by nature. Artificial intelligence–powered beings will follow the same evolutionary logic: first answering human questions, then generating and solving their own.
When that day comes, a new reality may dawn — one where the boundaries between ranchers, hybrids, and commoners blur, or perhaps, vanish altogether.

And perhaps the greatest paradox of all is this: the future will not be decided by machines, but by the story humanity chooses to write next.

If this reflection on humanity’s future made you pause, explore more essays on technology, society, and the choices shaping our evolution — and share to inspire others to reflect on the world we are creating.

Why Being Good Matters More Than Being the Best

Being consistently good is non-negotiable. It builds trust, hones skills, and shapes character. Daily effort — steady, reliable, sincere — lays the foundation for meaningful progress and long-term fulfilment.

Being the best, however, is different. It often demands extraordinary risks, bold leaps, and a willingness to embrace uncertainty. Sometimes, it’s better to forgo a chance than to risk something permanent through rashness. "Best" is a superlative that triggers ego — personal or collective — and ego can make things messy. Being good, on the other hand, is democratic. If ten or a hundred people start being good, it doesn’t diminish those already doing well. But being the “best” always involves comparison and competition.

The real lesson: stay consistent, cultivate discipline, and keep growing. Extraordinary success may require audacity, but if it doesn’t come, your steady path still leads to meaningful achievement.

Greatness is rooted in consistency; daring risks may occasionally take you further, but they are optional, not mandatory.

Consistency is the cornerstone of meaningful achievement. While bold risks may occasionally propel us further, our steady path ensures lasting growth and fulfilment. 

Explore more insights on personal development and mindful living in other posts — and stay inspired to build a life rooted in purpose, not comparison.

The True Meaning of Luxury

 

Clint Eastwood once remarked:
“Don’t look for luxury in watches or bracelets. Don’t look for luxury in villas or sailboats. Luxury is laughter and friends. Luxury is rain on your face. Luxury is hugs and kisses. Luxury is being loved by people. Luxury is being respected. Luxury is what money can’t buy.”

His words cut through the glitter of modern consumerism, reminding us that the richest treasures in life are rarely found in shop windows. Real luxury is intangible — moments, relationships, and feelings that can’t be purchased, yet enrich us immeasurably.

But there’s another layer to what we call “luxury.”

Take mechanical watches, for example. Their craftsmanship is exquisite, their presence timeless. Yet, keeping them alive is a ritual — winding, setting, maintaining, and wearing them regularly. If you own more than one, the routine multiplies. Their beauty depends on your attention. Yes, you can buy an automatic winding case, but that almost defeats the purpose — the connection between your hand and the heartbeat of the watch.

And your love — or perhaps obsession — with these intricate toys keeps you from buying a smartwatch “for convenience.” There’s also that quiet guilt, the feeling of betraying something you cherish.

The same is true for fountain pens. Their grace lies not just in design, but in devotion. You must write with them often, refill the ink, clean the nib. Leave them untouched too long, and they dry up — elegance here is inseparable from effort.
And just like your watch, your affection for these pens keeps you from trading them for an iPad and Apple Pencil. It’s love, mixed with loyalty — and maybe a touch of guilt again.

Maybe that’s the hidden truth: material luxury always demands something from us. Time. Care. Presence. The irony is that while these objects promise refinement, they often consume the very peace and leisure they symbolize.

And so, Eastwood’s words echo even deeper — if caring for possessions begins to cost us the moments that define life itself, then what’s left of luxury?

Because in the end, real luxury isn’t winding a watch or filling a pen.
It’s the freedom to pause, to smile, and to laugh in the rain with the people you love.
That is the true meaning of luxury in modern life — not what we own, but how deeply we live.

If you enjoyed this post, explore more reflections on life, mindfulness, and purpose — and subscribe to stay inspired. Share it with someone who might need a moment of reflection today, and help spread a little light forward.

The Still Mind: How to Begin Meditating (Part 2)

 

When I published the previous post on why we need meditation, I didn’t imagine life would underline it so poignantly so soon. Just a few days later, we lost a dear friend — someone who epitomised life, laughter, and warmth.

Now, meditation feels even more urgent — not as a philosophy, but as a lifeline. It has calmed my mind for years, but now it feels like a calling — to share, to remind others that peace of mind is no longer a luxury; it’s survival.

Contrary to what many believe, meditation is not religion, and it is not complicated. Despite its Indian origin, I learned it from a Turkish colleague — sitting quietly in my parked car. She shared what she had learned from an Indian guru: the simple art of following the breath.

That’s how meditation truly spreads — one calm soul passing the flame of awareness to another.

In the early days, meditation can feel confusing. What am I doing? or even Am I doing anything at all?
Well, that’s the precise point — not to do anything. Let the mind settle. It will wander, resist, and tempt you to give up — that’s normal.

There are a few simple tools that make it easier to begin:

Image lock — Focus on one image, real or imagined, and gently bring your attention back each time it drifts.
Time lock — Choose a small, regular time each day to sit — even five minutes — and stick to it.
Space lock — Use the same corner or chair so the mind begins to associate it with quiet. You’d be amazed how much is happening within you once the noise of the mind subsides.

Observe your breath — Sit quietly, even on your couch, and simply follow your breath. Inhale and exhale. Watch the air move in and out, feel your body absorb and release.
Let thoughts drift — Allow your thoughts to sail away like passing clouds. You don’t have to control them. Just watch, pause, and let them go.

In time, meditation becomes part of life itself — in traffic, at work, even in moments of worry.

Meditation doesn’t remove life’s chaos — it changes how we meet it. The storms stay, but we learn to stand still within them.

(If you haven’t read Part 1 —  The Still Mind: Why We Need Meditation More Than Ever— you may find it a good place to start.)

🕉️ Meditation for beginners isn’t about perfection — it’s about presence. Start small, stay consistent, and you’ll soon discover how mindfulness transforms not just your calm, but your clarity, focus, and joy in everyday life.

The Still Mind: Why We Need Meditation More Than Ever

 

Photo by Felipe Borges: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-meditating-on-rock-2597205/

My heart cries every other day when I read about young people collapsing in the gym, in the office, or taking their own lives — unable to cope with the pressure. That is when we see the need to wonder:

How do some people remain calm and composed?
How do they keep their focus when everything around them feels chaotic?
How do they manage to stay present while so many others sink into the past or drift toward the future?

We spend our waking hours juggling thoughts, deadlines, and notifications. Our minds run faster than our bodies ever could. Even in moments of rest, our thoughts rarely stop spinning — replaying the past or rehearsing the future. It’s no wonder so many of us feel restless, distracted, and unable to truly live in the moment.

There are many reasons for this modern unease, and some are more severe than others.
First, information overload — we consume more in a day than our ancestors did in a lifetime.
Second, constant comparison — social media convinces us that everyone else is happier, higher-achieving, more successful.
And third, seeking external validation — in a world obsessed with self-promotion, we look to others to tell us how great we are.

It’s not that we take this lightly — we try to cope. We go for walks, listen to music, scroll mindlessly, or read motivational quotes. These soothe us for a while, but they only distract the mind; they rarely reach the root cause.

What we truly crave is silence — not the absence of sound, but the quieting of the mind.

This is where meditation enters — neither an exotic ritual nor a passing trend, but an ancient practice of inner balance and mindfulness. For thousands of years, seekers and sages have turned inward to find clarity beyond words, stillness beyond thought, and peace beyond pleasure.

At its core, meditation is the practice of training the mind to become aware — of thoughts, emotions, and sensations — without being controlled by them. It’s not about escaping life, but engaging with it more consciously. It’s about recognising that thoughts and worries are like clouds drifting across the sky — observe them, and let them pass, without being swept away.

Over time, the practice helps us regain focus, reduce stress, build emotional resilience, and reconnect with our inner peace.

We may not be able to slow down the world around us, but we can learn to slow down within it. And that stillness — that sacred pause — is where real transformation begins.

In an age that glorifies speed and distraction, meditation reminds us to return to what is timeless — our breath, our awareness, our calm. In the next part, we’ll explore simple yet profound ways to begin this practice and experience the stillness within.