The Quiet Art of Being Well Liked

 

The Quiet Art of Being Well Liked

If someone were granted a single wish, many would choose popularity. Being popular means being appreciated by many people, not just a small circle of friends. Yet true popularity is not something that happens by magic—it is built through awareness, balance, and character.

One of the greatest risks of popularity is inconsistency. You cannot be warm and respectful to some people while ignoring or dismissing others without revealing your true nature. How you treat elders—parents, teachers, neighbors, and relatives—speaks loudly about who you are. Courtesy toward them earns trust and shows maturity. At the same time, kindness toward younger children reflects patience and empathy. Both matter.

Popularity also depends on considering others’ feelings and opinions. In group decisions, you will not always get your way. Accepting this gracefully is a sign of good sportsmanship. Complaining or sulking only harms how others see you, while cooperation strengthens bonds.

However, being well liked does not mean surrendering your values. Standing up for what you believe is right, even when it is unpopular, requires courage. Such honesty is often respected more than silent agreement.

In the end, popularity is not about pleasing everyone. It is about respect, fairness, kindness, and integrity. Gained this way, it may be quieter—but it lasts far longer.

Borders of the Map, Freedom of the Mind

Borders, visas, and passports often feel restrictive, yet they exist for the same reason we lock our doors or hire security—to ensure safety. In a world marked by conflict, terrorism, and territorial ambition, nations draw lines not out of idealism but out of necessity. These boundaries are meant to protect a shared space, especially when neighboring powers may be hostile or oppressive.

It is tempting to argue that nature recognizes no borders. Birds migrate freely, animals roam without passports, and even viruses cross continents unchecked. But human societies are different. Human history is shaped by ambition, fear, competition, and the urge to possess more—land, power, resources. Contentment and harmony, sadly, are not universal human traits, regardless of race, culture, religion, or ideology.

Thinkers across time have urged humanity to transcend borders, and that aspiration remains noble—so long as it does not compromise collective security. Nationalism, territorial obsession, and rigid fundamentalism have repeatedly fueled violence and division. While symbols like flags, anthems, and patriotic rituals can unite people, when taken to extremes they risk turning into tools of exclusion rather than connection.

As Arundhati Roy sharply observed, flags can be used by governments to narrow thinking and later to sanctify the consequences of conflict. Similarly, when John Lennon imagined a world without borders, religions, or possessions in *Imagine*, he voiced a deeply human longing. That song resonated globally because it spoke to hope—but it also revealed how distant that vision remains. Such ideals assume a level of human perfection that the real world has yet to achieve.

**Rabindranath Tagore** was deeply critical of aggressive nationalism, seeing it as exclusionary and driven by false pride. Yet even he acknowledged that nationalism could have value if it served the dignity and welfare of the marginalized rather than the vanity of the powerful.

In this light, borders can be understood as practical arrangements—administrative and security tools—rather than ultimate truths. They organize the physical world, while the deeper challenge lies elsewhere: freeing the human mind. **J Krishnamurti** emphasized that true freedom is psychological, not geographical. It is the freedom to question, to doubt, and to reject blind conformity—an inner state that dissolves dependency and fear.

Krishnamurti warned that nationalism narrows thought and that selfish self-interest sits at the heart of destructive patriotism. Echoing this, the **Dalai Lama** has repeatedly pointed out that war and violence arise from anger, ego, and division. When humanity clings to “us versus them,” cruelty finds justification.

Lasting peace does not require erasing borders overnight. It requires cultivating a sense of shared humanity despite them. When people of different cultures, regions, and beliefs learn to see one another as members of a single human family, borders lose their power to divide—even if they remain on the map.

IF HE EXIST

I drive joy there was a doctor in Benaras who spent 7 minutes in the morning and evening for mediation on God. Knowing this, his colleagues and friends laughed at him. One day they argued that he was wasting 7 precious minutes on something, which he had been misled into believing. The doctor replied, “Well, if God does not exist, I agree that I am wasting 7 minutes a day. But, if He exists? I am afraid you are wasting your entire lifetime. I prefer to waste 7 minutes rather than a lifetime. Why should you grudge me the 7minutes joy that I derive 4m.-

ILLUSTRATED REVIEW : 7thheaven moment of the week India won second t 20 by 7 wk

Seeds of Scientific Thought in Ancient India

 

Seeds of Scientific Thought in Ancient India

Ancient India nurtured a deep and systematic curiosity about nature, life, and the universe. Long before science was divided into modern disciplines, Hindu sages approached knowledge as an integrated pursuit—where observation, reasoning, and experience worked together. Their insights were not abstract philosophy alone; they addressed practical human needs such as health, measurement, astronomy, and the understanding of matter itself.

In the earliest Vedic tradition, the sage Atharvan is associated with humanity’s first conscious engagement with fire. Fire was not merely a ritual symbol but a technological breakthrough—central to cooking, metallurgy, medicine, and social development. Mastery over fire marked a decisive step in civilization, transforming how humans lived, worked, and survived.

The sky, too, was studied with remarkable precision. The sage Dirghatamas is remembered for his deep contemplation of cosmic order and celestial cycles. His reflections laid early groundwork for astronomy, emphasizing patterns of time, movement of heavenly bodies, and the relationship between the cosmos and human life—an approach that blended observation with mathematical intuition.

In the field of medicine, Ancient India produced one of the most influential pioneers of surgery. Sushruta compiled detailed surgical techniques, instruments, and procedures in the Sushruta Samhita . His work included plastic surgery, cataract operations, fracture management, and ethical guidelines for physicians—centuries before similar texts appeared elsewhere in the world.

Indian thinkers also ventured into the invisible structure of reality. The philosopher Kanada proposed that all material existence is composed of indivisible particles, or anu . This early atomic theory was not speculative mysticism; it was a logical system explaining change, combination, and permanence in the physical world.

Mathematics flourished alongside philosophy and science. The scholar Baudhayana articulated geometric principles that include the relationship later known as the Pythagorean theorem. His work demonstrates that such mathematical understanding existed in India well before it was attributed in the West to Pythagoras .

Together, these contributions reveal that Ancient India was not merely a spiritual civilization but also a rigorous scientific one. Its sages laid intellectual foundations that continue to influence modern science—showing that reason, experimentation, and insight were deeply rooted in India’s ancient quest for knowledge.

Why Life Is Always New—and the Mind Makes It Old

One of the sharpest insights attributed to Heraclitus is the idea that life is never repeated. The sun is not the same today as it was yesterday. Hunger, love, joy, and pain are never recycled experiences. Even saying “each day” falls short—because every moment, every gesture, every breath is new. If reality renews itself constantly, the real question is not why life changes, but why we grow bored.

Boredom does not arise from existence; it arises from the mind. Existence has no past—it lives only in the present. The mind, however, is made of memory. It carries yesterday into today and stains fresh moments with old conclusions. When you see through memory instead of awareness, the world begins to look dull, repetitive, and lifeless.

Every sunrise is new. Every appetite is new. Every satisfaction is new. But the mind is ancient—it is an archive of habits, labels, and expectations. When memory leads perception, even love becomes familiar and mechanical. When memory steps aside, the same person appears new again, because in truth no one is ever the same from one moment to the next.

A human being cannot be fully known, because a person is a moving current of consciousness. Just as you cannot enter the same river twice, you cannot meet the same individual twice—not even yourself. Life flows continuously, vibrant and alive. Nothing in existence grows old; only the mind does.

When this is not seen, boredom sets in like a slow poison. It drains color from life until enthusiasm disappears. People begin to die inwardly long before their bodies stop breathing. Youth fades—not because of age, but because curiosity and freshness are lost.

Youth, in reality, is not a number; it is a way of seeing. To look at the world without the burden of memory is to remain young. Even death then becomes an adventure—another transformation, another doorway. Rest follows movement, silence follows sound, but nothing repeats itself.

Everything changes endlessly. Only the mind clings to the past. To see life without the mind’s filter is meditation—and in that seeing, boredom has no place.

IF HE EXIST

I drive joy there was a doctor in Benaras who spent 7 minutes in the morning and evening for mediation on God. Knowing this, his colleagues and friends laughed at him. One day they argued that he was wasting 7 precious minutes on something, which he had been misled into believing. The doctor replied, “Well, if God does not exist, I agree that I am wasting 7 minutes a day. But, if He exists? I am afraid you are wasting your entire lifetime. I prefer to waste 7 minutes rather than a lifetime. Why should you grudge me the 7minutes joy that I derive 4m.-

ILLUSTRATED REVIEW : 7thheaven moment of the week in wpl mumbai won by 7 wk

Many Paths, One Awakening: Vivekananda’s Call to Strength and Harmony

 

Many Paths, One Awakening: Vivekananda’s Call to Strength and Harmony

At just thirty years of age, Swami Vivekananda captivated the world at the World Parliament of Religions in Chicago. His address was not merely eloquent; it was a confident presentation of India’s spiritual inheritance, rooted in Vedanta and marked by an inclusive vision of life. He spoke of a civilization comfortable with diversity, where multiple faiths could coexist without conflict. To convey this spirit, he quoted an ancient verse comparing religions to rivers that rise from different sources yet ultimately merge into the same ocean—distinct in form, united in essence.

On the Parliament’s final day, Vivekananda reaffirmed a powerful principle: the freedom of belief. No individual, he insisted, should be compelled to abandon their faith for another. Each tradition must absorb the spirit of others while preserving its own identity and growing according to its nature. Following the Parliament, he spent nearly three years traveling across America, spreading these ideas before returning to India.

This philosophy is later distilled by Srinivas Venkatram in an illustrated work, Awakening the Nation , which curates Vivekananda’s thoughts drawn from his lectures “from Colombo to Almora.” Though deeply grounded in the abstract expansiveness of Vedanta, Vivekananda frequently spoke of the “nation”—not as territory, but as people. For him, national awakening meant inner strength and shared purpose.

A son of Bengal, Vivekananda also loved football and often used it to connect with young minds. His remark that one could come closer to heaven through football than through studying scripture was not irreverent; it was symbolic. Football represented strength—physical, mental, and moral. Weakness, he believed, made one vulnerable, while conscious self-strengthening opened limitless possibilities, both worldly and spiritual.

His stirring call to youth—“Arise, Awake!”—echoes the message of the Bhagavad Gita , where Krishna urges a despondent Arjuna to cast off weakness and stand firm. Vivekananda carried this message forward, urging young people of character to renounce selfishness, serve others, and work for a larger cause—thereby uplifting themselves and the nation alike.

Life after God

In Hinduism, the search for God has never been treated as an escape from life. From very early on—thousands of years ago—there was a deep understanding that even if one discovers the true nature of God, life does not stop. The body still needs food, cleanliness, shelter, relationships, work, and order. Enlightenment does not cancel living; it must coexist with it.

Because of this realization, Hindu thought did something very practical and visionary. It accepted that not everyone needs to search for God directly, and that society cannot function if everyone abandons worldly responsibility in pursuit of the absolute. So a system of living was created alongside the spiritual search.

A smaller group dedicated themselves fully to the discovery of truth and ultimate reality—those later known as Brahmins in the philosophical sense. Others were oriented toward protection and governance (Kshatriya), trade and sustenance (Vaishya), and service and skilled work (Shudra). This was not originally about superiority, but about distribution of responsibility, so that life as a whole could continue smoothly while spiritual inquiry remained alive.

The same balance appears in the four ashramas of life:

Brahmacharya – learning and discipline

Grihastha – family, work, society

Vanaprastha – gradual withdrawal

Sannyasa – renunciation and realization

This shows a profound understanding: God-realization is a stage of life, not a rejection of life.

Likewise, Hinduism defined the four aims of living:

Dharma (right conduct)

Artha (material stability)

Kama (joy and desire)

Moksha (liberation)

None of these are denied. Even liberation is placed after responsibility, not before it.

That is why Hindu wisdom says:

“Pray as if everything depends on God, and work as if everything depends on man.”

Because even if God is realized, the system of life still runs. One must still eat, bathe, earn, raise family, manage society. Discovery of God does not remove biology, psychology, or social structure.

This is also why Hinduism comfortably accepts wealth, family, learning, and even specialized “gods” for these aspects—not as distractions, but as acknowledgements that existence is layered.

Even when extraordinary experiences occur—miracles, visions, revelations—the Hindu mind does not abandon schools, science, governance, or daily order. The understanding is simple and mature:

Truth may be eternal, but life is continuous.

That is the core genius of Hinduism:

It never chose between God and life.

It designed a way to hold both together.

IF HE EXIST

I drive joy there was a doctor in Benaras who spent 7 minutes in the morning and evening for mediation on God. Knowing this, his colleagues and friends laughed at him. One day they argued that he was wasting 7 precious minutes on something, which he had been misled into believing. The doctor replied, “Well, if God does not exist, I agree that I am wasting 7 minutes a day. But, if He exists? I am afraid you are wasting your entire lifetime. I prefer to waste 7 minutes rather than a lifetime. Why should you grudge me the 7minutes joy that I derive 4m.-

ILLUSTRATED REVIEW :7thheaven moment of the week in wpl Devine no 77 got player fo the match

Service Before Self: A Timeless Ideal in a Changing World

 

Service Before Self: A Timeless Ideal in a Changing World

To a hard-nosed pragmatist, phrases like “service before self” or “selfless service” can sound like outdated sermons, disconnected from modern realities. In today’s marketplace, the word *service* is often borrowed by clever businesses as a marketing mask—used to disguise the single-minded pursuit of profit by any means. In such a climate, genuine selflessness appears rare, almost naïve. Yet this view tells only half the story. Just as night exists alongside day, exploitation coexists with sincerity. Beneath the noise of commercial language, authentic service still survives.

Indian thought has long illustrated this deeper meaning of service through stories that speak to the heart rather than the ledger. One such episode comes from the life of **Sri Krishna**. When Krishna fell gravely ill, he declared that he would recover only if someone placed the dust from their feet upon his head. Those around him hesitated, fearing sin in offering foot-dust to a divine being. Yet the Gopis, moved by love rather than calculation, stepped forward without a second thought. Their act was not driven by reward or fear, but by pure concern for the one they loved.

The Gopis’ gesture captures the essence of selfless service: acting without weighing personal gain or loss. They did not pause to measure consequences, social judgment, or spiritual risk. Their devotion was complete because it was unburdened by self-interest. In that moment, service was not a duty imposed from outside but an inner impulse flowing naturally from love. This is why such stories endure—they reveal a moral clarity that transcends time.

India’s cultural memory is rich with similar examples. Hospitality elevated to sacrifice, compassion placed above comfort, and service regarded as sacred duty have shaped the ethos of this land. Many of its greatest figures shared a single ideal: service to society before concern for self. They gave their energy, their comfort, and often their lives for the good of others. Their immortality lies not in monuments, but in the values they embodied and passed on.

In the modern era, this spirit found renewed expression through **Swami Vivekananda**. He reminded the world that love for humanity is the highest form of devotion. His message was simple yet radical: serving fellow human beings is serving the divine itself. By reconnecting spirituality with social responsibility, he restored dignity to the idea of sacrifice in an age moving toward material ambition.

Skeptics may still question the relevance of selfless service today. Yet a society built solely on selfishness cannot sustain itself. While personal ambition can drive individual progress, it cannot by itself create harmony or collective well-being. True growth requires moving beyond the narrow shell of self-interest. In Indian philosophy, the highest stage of self-development—liberation or *moksha*—is impossible without transcending selfish motives.

There is also wisdom in recognizing the role of age and perspective. Youth, by nature, is more open to ideals and collective dreams. A Chinese saying captures this balance: if a young person never thinks of society, he lacks vision; if an old person thinks of nothing else, he lacks perspective. Early life is the season of dedication, when the seeds of selfless service can be sown. If nurtured then, the principle of service before self remains not an outdated slogan, but a living force shaping individuals and societies alike.

When Reason Trips Over Itself

Paradoxes are the mischievous tricks the mind plays on itself. Write on one side of a paper, “The statement on the reverse is true,” then flip it and write, “The statement on the other side is false.” Instantly, you are trapped in a loop. Neither side can settle the matter, and logic ties itself into a knot with no exit.

Classic examples sharpen this confusion. Consider the claim: all men are liars. If I am a man and say this aloud, then I must be lying—which means the statement cannot be true. Yet if it is false, then not all men are liars, which brings us back to questioning the original claim. The argument spirals endlessly, mocking our desire for clear answers.

Despite such traps, reason has been humanity’s greatest tool. Through it, *Homo sapiens* built civilizations, explored oceans and galaxies, and unlocked the atom’s power. Rational thought gave us science, technology, and progress. Yet hidden within reason itself is a flaw that occasionally turns it against its own foundations.

This self-negation is symbolized by the ancient image of the Ouroboros, the serpent that devours its own tail. Reason, when pushed to extremes, can erase itself through paradox. When thought cancels thought, some traditions see not failure but transcendence—a doorway into mysticism, where the mind steps beyond logic.

As **Søren Kierkegaard** observed, when the ship of reason breaks on the rocks of its own limits, one must take a leap—not of logic, but of faith. Similarly, Zen teachers confront students with koans, riddles that defy rational solution, forcing insight beyond analysis.

Ancient thinkers also delighted in such puzzles. **Zeno of Elea** argued that motion itself is an illusion, while playwright **Tom Stoppard** humorously suggested that **Saint Sebastian** must have died of fear, since Zeno’s logic implies no arrow could ever reach him.

In the *Critique of Pure Reason*, **Immanuel Kant** framed the ultimate paradox: did the universe begin in time, or has it always existed? Both answers collapse under scrutiny. The lesson is humbling—reason is not always reasonable about itself. Trust reason completely? Paradoxically, you just can’t. A paradox may be a game, a philosophical doorway, or a path to insight—worthy of applause, even if only with one hand.

IF HE EXIST

I drive joy there was a doctor in Benaras who spent 7 minutes in the morning and evening for mediation on God. Knowing this, his colleagues and friends laughed at him. One day they argued that he was wasting 7 precious minutes on something, which he had been misled into believing. The doctor replied, “Well, if God does not exist, I agree that I am wasting 7 minutes a day. But, if He exists? I am afraid you are wasting your entire lifetime. I prefer to waste 7 minutes rather than a lifetime. Why should you grudge me the 7minutes joy that I derive 4m.-

ILLUSTRATED REVIEW : 7thheaven moment of the week in epl aston viallas no 7 scored two goals