Shakespeare - In Celebration and Remembrance

23rd April marks both the birth and the memorial day of the Bard of Avon, William Shakespeare - a rare and poetic coincidence for a man whose words have endured for almost five centuries.

There is something about teaching Shakespeare that transforms me.

My energy shifts.

My voice finds a different rhythm.

I don’t just teach - I feel, I live every word.

And, perhaps that was always his intention…for his works are to be experienced, not merely studied.

Over the past few years, I have journeyed through some of his plays, and more profoundly, Sonnet 116 - a piece that continues to feel intensely relevant.

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments…”

I remember those sessions vividly - the classroom changed. The noise of the outside world faded, and what remained was the purity of love as Shakespeare envisioned it - steady, unchanging, almost eternal. It was no longer just a poem; it became a feeling shared across centuries.

What makes Shakespeare truly timeless is this: his writing captures every shade of human emotion.

Love and jealousy, ambition and guilt, hope and despair—nothing is left untouched.

And in today’s world - fast, distracted, and constantly shifting - his words offer something rare: stillness, reflection, and truth. In an age of fleeting attention and digital noise, Shakespeare invites us to pause, listen, and feel deeply.

Perhaps that is why boards like the Council for the Indian School Certificate Examinations continue to include his works in the syllabus, especially for teenagers. At an age when emotions run high and identities are still forming, Shakespeare does more than teach literature - he helps students understand themselves.

His characters wrestle with choices, consequences, and conscience - much like the young minds we teach today. Whether it is ambition in Macbeth or forgiveness in The Tempest, his lessons extend far beyond the page; they quietly shape thought, perspective, and character.

That, I believe, is why Shakespeare remains relevant even after almost five centuries.

When teaching becomes storytelling, and literature becomes emotion - that is when something magical happens.

This is not just a tribute to a literary giant, but a reminder - that words, when taught with passion, do not remain on paper.

They travel. 

They touch. 

They transform. 

But it is conditional - if you are ready to taken in!

And in those moments, across time, Shakespeare continues to live—through the voices of millions of English teachers.

A Deep BOW to the GOAT!

FFT

We have developed a habit of turning everything into something more than what it is.

If we listen to music, it becomes background to something else.

If we take up a hobby, we start thinking about how to get better at it.

If we get some free time, we immediately look for a way to “use” it well.

Nothing is allowed to remain simple for long!!!

A song is no longer just a song - it becomes something to analyse, rate, or multitask with.

An evening is not just an evening - it has to be planned, filled, or made productive.

Even something as natural as watching a flower bloom is quickly turned into a photograph, a post, a moment to capture rather than experience.

We rarely leave things alone! 

There is always this quiet pressure in the background - to improve, to optimise, to make every moment count.

At first, it sounds like a good way to live.

Who wouldn’t want to grow, to use time well, to become better?

But there is a cost to this way of thinking.

When everything becomes a means to improve ourselves, we stop engaging with things for what they are.

We don’t listen—we consume!

We don’t sit—we fill time!

We don’t notice—we document!

And slowly, without realising it, we lose the ability to simply experience.

Not everything in life is meant to take us forward.

Some things are meant to slow us down.

A song you listen to without distraction.

An evening that passes without a plan.

A small, ordinary moment that you don’t try to turn into anything else.

These things may not improve you in any visible way.

But they restore something quieter—and far more essential.

The ability to be present without purpose.

Maybe, that is what we need to hold on to.

Because if everything in life is treated as something to improve, we may end up becoming more efficient…but a little less alive.

And, is that a trade-off worth thinking about???

A Life That Whispered Love

Some souls do not walk beside us every day. We meet them only in passing moments, speak in brief exchanges… and yet, they leave behind a quiet radiance that lingers within us for a lifetime. And when they depart, their absence settles deeply, almost intimately, within the heart. Leelappachi was one such luminous presence in the Padma Saras family — gentle in spirit, boundless in affection, and utterly unforgettable.

My association with her traces back to 1998, when my marriage was fixed. I can still recall the grace with which she welcomed me — not through elaborate gestures, but through a rare softness, a warmth so sincere that it made me feel instantly embraced. And that essence of hers remained unchanged through the years. Time moved on, meetings became infrequent, yet every encounter with her felt suffused with the same tenderness — those kind, compassionate eyes speaking volumes that words never could.

One of the most delicate threads that bound us was our shared identity as teachers. She would always acknowledge it with a quiet pride, as though it was a bond she deeply cherished. In her voice, there was both dignity and belonging. Those seemingly simple conversations, once taken for granted, have now transformed into treasured fragments of memory I hold close to my heart.

What lingers most profoundly is her warmth. No matter how long the gap between our meetings, she would receive us with unwavering affection — the same concern, the same gentle smile, the same genuine interest. She would lovingly enquire about everyone connected to me, about my work, about life itself… never perfunctorily, but with a sincerity that made you feel truly valued. There was no distance in her love — only a soothing familiarity that enveloped you with quiet comfort.

I met her last December, when she was in good health — a memory that now feels even more precious. It is still difficult to comprehend that she is no longer with us. Some souls leave this world silently… yet the void they leave behind is immeasurable. Leelappachi was deeply cherished by all in the Padma Saras family, and she bore that love with effortless grace and humility.

She will be profoundly missed in every gathering we share hereafter. Her gentle presence, her unassuming ways, her quiet kindness — all of it will echo in the spaces she once filled.

Goodbyes such as these are never easy. But hearts like hers do not truly depart. They remain… in our memories, in our silences, in the love they so selflessly gave.

Dear Leelappachi, you will forever dwell in our hearts — remembered with enduring love and warmth. And yet, I write… not because words will ever be enough, but because a heart like hers cannot be left unspoken. This is no tribute worthy of her — for a life so gently and gracefully lived can never be contained in words. Some souls do not seek to be remembered, and yet they become unforgettable. They leave behind not noise, but a quiet light… one that stays with us, long after they are gone.

The Grace of Gratitude

In the rush of everyday life, it is easy to focus on what is missing. Our thoughts often wander wild toward unfulfilled goals, unanswered questions, or the feeling that something better lies just around the corner. In doing so, we sometimes miss the quiet blessings already present in our lives. Gratitude gently shifts this perspective, reminding us that happiness is not always somewhere in the future - it often lives in the present moment, waiting to be noticed.

When we begin to practice gratitude, we slowly learn to count our blessings instead of dwelling on what is lacking. A challenging day may still test our patience, but gratitude helps us see the silver lining hidden within it. It reminds us that even on cloudy days, a small ray of sunshine can still break through.

Often, gratitude begins with the simplest observations around us. If we pause long enough to notice the beauty and happiness around us - be it a plant that quietly blooms, a splash of colours across the sky, or a moment that fills the heart with excitement - we begin to realise how fortunate we are. These small experiences may seem like ordinary moments, but together they add colour to the canvas of our everyday lives.

Gratitude also has a way of warming human connections. A heartfelt ‘thank you’, a kind word of appreciation, or simply acknowledging someone’s effort can go a long way. Such gestures may seem small, yet they often leave a lasting impression, reminding people that their presence and kindness truly matter. 

When we choose to look for the good in people rather than focus on what they lack, our relationships naturally grow stronger and more harmonious. Recognising someone’s kindness, strengths, and genuine intentions fosters understanding and trust. In doing so, friendships and relationships flourish, nurtured by appreciation instead of weighed down by constant fault-finding.

With time, gratitude becomes more than a passing thought- it becomes a habit of the mind. Instead of constantly searching for greener pastures, we begin to appreciate the garden we already stand in. Life may still bring its share of storms, but gratitude gives us the strength to weather them with a steadier heart.

It goes without saying that gratitude does not necessarily change the circumstances around us, but it changes the way we experience them. By noticing the beauty in everyday moments and appreciating the blessings that quietly surround us, we discover that happiness was never far away - it was simply waiting for us to open our eyes and see it.

Failure is Not the End

Failure.

A word that often feels heavier than it should. It carries with it disappointment, self-doubt, and an uncomfortable silence that follows when things do not go as planned. Success is celebrated widely, yet rarely are individuals taught how to face failure with strength and understanding.

But what if failure is not the end of the road, but merely a turning point?

There are moments when losing feels like everything has come to a halt. It is not just about a result or a prize—it can feel as though confidence itself has slipped away. Watching others move ahead while standing on the sidelines is never easy. In such moments, failure can appear like a full stop—final and unforgiving.

Yet, time has a way of changing perspectives.

Failure is not a full stop; it is a comma—an invitation to pause, reflect, and continue with greater wisdom.

There are moments when sincere effort does not lead to the expected result. Preparation may be thorough, confidence may be strong, and there may be a quiet belief that success will follow. Yet, when the outcome unfolds, it tells a different story.

In such moments, a difficult truth emerges — sometimes, even one’s best may not be the best in that situation.

And that is not failure. That is reality.

In a competitive world, it is important for children to understand this early. Not every effort will lead to a prize, and not every attempt will bring immediate success. There will be situations where others perform better, where outcomes may seem unfair, or where hard work does not translate into victory.

This is not meant to discourage, but to prepare. Children must be guided to value participation over position. What matters most is the courage to step forward, to try, and to give one’s best with sincerity. Participation builds confidence, teaches resilience, and nurtures the ability to face both success and disappointment with balance.

Winning is momentary, but the habit of trying, learning, and improving lasts a lifetime.

There is a thought-provoking idea: “If you are the best in the room, you are in the wrong room.” At first, it may seem unsettling, but it carries a profound truth. Constantly being the best can lead to comfort—and comfort often limits growth.

True progress begins in spaces that challenge. Spaces where others may be more skilled, more experienced, or more accomplished. Instead of feeling diminished, one must learn to feel inspired. These are the environments that stretch abilities, refine efforts, and lead towards excellence.

There will always be someone better. This is not something to fear—it is something to accept with humility. It serves as a reminder that learning is a lifelong journey, and that there is always room to grow.

Failure, in its truest sense, is not a setback but a teacher. It teaches resilience when strength feels low, patience when everything seems rushed, and determination when giving up feels easier. It humbles, shapes, and prepares individuals for challenges yet to come.

Like a seed buried deep within the soil, growth is often invisible at first. It requires time, perseverance, and unwavering faith. With consistent effort, what once seemed like an end begins to blossom into a new beginning.

History is filled with individuals who faced repeated failures before achieving greatness. What set them apart was not immediate success, but their refusal to give up. Failure was not seen as defeat, but as preparation.

The real fear should not be failure.

The real fear should be the absence of effort.

The hesitation to try.

Because failure is not the opposite of success - it is an ESSENTIAL part of it.

So, the next time the child doesn’t win a prize or wasn’t able to perform well, let’s not get disappointed or make the child feel disappointed. Let’s make them understand how to handle failure and congratulate those who have won whole-heartedly.

There is no falling behind - only being shaped for something greater! 

What If the Road Was Never the Problem?

There is a quiet habit we seldom notice in ourselves. 

It slips in unnoticed, almost like second nature.

A conversation that did not go well — we replay what the other person said.
An opportunity that passed us by — we dwell on the circumstances.
Something we failed to achieve — we catalogue the obstacles.
Rarely do we begin with ourselves. 

Not because we lack honesty, but because it is always easier to look outward than to look within.
Blame is subtle. 

It does not always wear the face of anger. At times, it arrives dressed as reason.
“It wasn’t the right time.”
“They didn’t support me.”
“Things were not in my favour.”
And often, these statements are not entirely untrue.

Life is not always fair. People are not always kind. Circumstances are not always within our control. Yet, beneath all of this lies a quieter truth — one we do not always pause to confront.

None of these things can decide what we do next. They may influence us, delay us, even dishearten us. But they cannot choose on our behalf.

That part remains ours - UNTOUCHED!

And that is where the real story UNFOLDS!

There is always a moment — often fleeting, often overlooked — when we choose.
To step forward or step back.
To persevere or to withdraw.
To rise above or to remain where we are.

These choices rarely arrive with fanfare. They are not grand gestures. They do not announce themselves.
Yet, over time, they become the architects of our lives.

To accept this is not comfortable. It shifts the lens entirely.

It asks us to recognise that our lives are shaped not only by what happens to us, but by how we respond to it.
It asks us to admit that even in difficult moments, there were choices we made — or quietly chose not to make.

And that is not always easy to face.

Blame offers a certain relief. It allows us to lay the burden elsewhere, to place the weight outside ourselves.

But it takes something in return — quietly, almost imperceptibly. It takes away our sense of control.

For if others are responsible for where we stand, then they must also be responsible for where we go. And so, we find ourselves waiting — for circumstances to shift, for people to change, for life to fall into place.

Ownership, on the other hand, is heavier.

It asks us to look at our lives without the comfort of filters.
To accept what was beyond us — and what was not.
To acknowledge that while we were never in control of everything, we were never entirely without agency either.

And yet, within that weight lies something unexpected.

Freedom!

Here, one cannot help but recall The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.
We often remember it as a poem about courage — about choosing the road less travelled. But there is a quieter truth within it.

The traveller stands at a fork, aware that he cannot take both paths. He pauses, reflects, and then chooses — fully conscious that the decision rests with him alone.

There is no one else to credit. There is no one else to blame.

And much later, as he looks back, he says that the choice “has made all the difference.”

Not the road. Not the circumstances. But the CHOICE!

That is the truth we so often overlook.

At every stage of life, we stand at such crossroads — not always visible, not always obvious — but always present.
In the decisions we postpone.
In the chances we hesitate to take.
In the moments we allow to slip through our fingers.

And when we look back, it becomes easy to rewrite the narrative — to say we could not, to say we were not given the chance, to say the odds were not in our favour.

But perhaps the harder, quieter question remains:

At that moment, what did we choose? And, that is your answer! 

Pages That Deepen with Time!

For a long time, I had been carrying a quiet wish within me - to return to the novels and novellas that once shaped my college days, to open their pages again and see how they might speak to the mind and heart of the person I have since become. I wanted to feel them anew, to test whether stories we once loved remember us as faithfully as we remember them. Today, at last, I made time for that small, whimsical longing… and what I discovered was nothing short of wondrous.

More Nostalgia!

More Realizations!

More Depth!

There is a gentle, almost sacred tenderness in rereading a book that once rested in your hands years ago - much like rewatching a film from your younger days and suddenly noticing glances, pauses, and quiet meanings that once slipped past you unnoticed. 

The story has not changed! 

The words remain where they always were! 

And yet, 

Something feels different, as though the pages themselves have learned a deeper language during your absence, waiting patiently for you to grow into their truth!

Today I wandered once more through the windswept fields and hushed emotions of Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy (1874), a novel that once accompanied me in my UG years. Back then, I admired it as one admires a painting - from a thoughtful distance, attentive to its craft, its elegance, its structure. Perhaps I even read it with examinations in mind, hoping to gather marks along with meanings - who can say for certain?

But today, I did not stand outside it. I stepped inside. I felt the hush of its landscapes settle around me, the ache within its silences, the fragile courage trembling beneath Bathsheba’s pride, and the steady, sunrise-like warmth of Gabriel’s devotion. Scenes that once seemed merely beautiful now felt quietly profound; passages I once skimmed now lingered like echoes. It was no longer simply a novel I was reading — it was a world I was inhabiting.

And, it struck me then that time is the truest co-author of every rereading. 

Life annotates the margins! 

Experience underlines certain sentences!

Memory turns ordinary passages luminous!

We return thinking we are revisiting a story, only to discover that the story has been patiently waiting to revisit us.

Perhaps, that is why certain books never truly end. They relax on our shelves with the calm assurance of old companions, knowing that when we return, we will not encounter the same story again - we will encounter ourselves, reflected more deeply, more honestly, and more tenderly in their pages!