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By:

Anandajit Goswami

15 April 2026 at 11:15:27 pm

Lessons from the Mountains

How much of the Himalayas must melt before we rediscover our humanity? I have carried this question for some time. Perhaps it came from the mountains, the rain and the silence. The Himalayas feed rivers, sustain communities and carry memories of centuries. Yet their changing landscape reminds us that nature has limits. We discuss melting glaciers, disappearing water sources and climate change, but too often these remain statistics. What happens when they become part of daily life? I imagine...

Lessons from the Mountains

How much of the Himalayas must melt before we rediscover our humanity? I have carried this question for some time. Perhaps it came from the mountains, the rain and the silence. The Himalayas feed rivers, sustain communities and carry memories of centuries. Yet their changing landscape reminds us that nature has limits. We discuss melting glaciers, disappearing water sources and climate change, but too often these remain statistics. What happens when they become part of daily life? I imagine sitting on those mountains on a rain soaked afternoon, watching clouds descend and the earth being washed clean. In that silence, love arrives. Not the dramatic love we celebrate, but a quieter love that simply sits beside us. And then I ask myself: have I learned to love another human being, or only the idea of humanity? Humanity as an idea is easy to love. The person before us is different. He has fears, weaknesses, anger and wounds. To love a human being requires patience. It requires us to stay. The question stays with me. We often imagine spirituality as a journey away from people, towards mountains, forests and solitude. But perhaps the journey into the mountains is only half the journey. The other half is returning to people. Perhaps we enter the forest not to escape humanity, but to understand it better, and then return to everyday life with a greater ability to see those around us. If spirituality creates distance between us and others, what have we gained? True spirituality should make that distance smaller. It should make us more compassionate, not more detached. We can speak to someone thousands of kilometres away in seconds, but may not know what the person next to us is going through. How much of Nepal do we really reach when we admire its mountains? Perhaps Nepal represents every distant place we admire without truly knowing, every landscape we photograph without understanding, and every suffering we discuss without allowing it to change us. We can cross mountains and borders without ever truly arriving. A journey is complete only when it brings us closer to another human being. Perhaps that is where a spiritual journey becomes meaningful. And then there is violence. A missile can cross the sky in seconds. A bullet can end a life in an instant. But fear travels much faster. It moves from one heart to another and changes the way people see each other. Grief becomes anger, anger becomes hatred, and hatred makes it easier to see another human being as an enemy rather than as a person. At such moments, our philosophies disappear. The mask falls. I imagine looking beside me. I expect to find a gun. But there is no gun. There is a guitar. I do not know who placed it there. Perhaps it was love. Perhaps it was music or another human being reminding me that there is a choice. The gun represents hatred, revenge, intolerance and the desire to silence another voice. The guitar represents conversation, empathy and creativity when the world is full of noise. We can decide what we add to the world. We can add to anger, or we can reduce it. We can answer hatred with hatred, or begin a conversation. Every choice shapes society. Perhaps that is where being human really begins. The Himalayas may continue to melt. Rivers may shrink. Fear may return, and guns may continue to speak. But we still have a choice. We can add another weapon to the noise, or pick up the guitar. We can continue speaking the language of fear, or learn the language of compassion. Perhaps spirituality is making that choice again and again. Humanity begins with the person standing next to us. It could be a stranger, neighbour, colleague, or someone we strongly disagree with. The moment we stop seeing that person as another human being and begin to see something of ourselves in him, the distance becomes smaller. The mountains may teach us silence. Rivers may teach us movement. Rain may teach us renewal. But their greatest lesson is simple: we are all standing on the same fragile earth. The world will continue to change, whether we are ready or not. The real question is what we will become while it changes. Where we expected a gun, perhaps there can be a guitar. Perhaps we should begin there. We may not control the future, but we can influence the human atmosphere we leave behind. (The writer is an author and musician. Views personal.)

A beacon of hope for rural athletes

Correspondent
Oct 8, 2024
3 min read

Updated: Oct 22, 2024

How Akash Shinde transformed from a shy village boy to a prominent kabaddi player

beacon of hope

Mumbai: In the heart of Nashik's Adgaon village, a young boy Akash Shinde dared to dream big. Little did he know that his journey from playing in the muddy grounds of his town to becoming a PKL winner would inspire a generation of aspiring athletes.


“Initially, when I used to play, I would come home with bruises because Kabaddi was played in the mud,” Akash recalls as he enters his fourth season with the Puneri Paltan. And despite his family's initial concerns, his passion for kabaddi burned bright, fuelled by the unwavering support of his early mentors Sagar Malwade and Vinod Labde.


His path to success was far from smooth. He faced numerous setbacks, failing to make the cut in his first attempts at various levels. “I fell short in my first attempts at all levels. I went for my senior camp for Maharashtra and fell short there too!”


But instead of letting these failures discourage him, Akash used them as stepping stones. “These setbacks kept me determined, and I knew I needed to try harder and with renewed energy to show the world what I could do and achieve.”


His breakthrough came in 2019 at a seniors’ trial in Nashik. This performance opened doors, leading him to play in the Junior Nationals and eventually catching the eye of Yuva Paltan, which is the Puneri Paltan’s academy.


The turning point in Akash’s career came when he represented his college in Beed, earning his first chance to play for Maharashtra. Under the guidance of Anil Jagdale and Kailas Jagdale, his skills flourished. His journey accelerated as he moved from Mahindra & Mahindra to Yuva Paltan, where mentors like Sangram and Ashok helped refine his game.


Akash’s PKL debut with Puneri Paltan in Season 8 was a moment of immense pride, not just for him but for his entire village. “No player from the Nashik region had made it to PKL or even the Maharashtra team, so it was a shock, a pleasant one, for everyone. The entire Nashik district was very happy. It felt really good,” he reminisces.


But it was in Season 9 that he truly announced his arrival, becoming a formidable force on the mat. In the 22 matches that Akash played on the way to his first PKL final, he scored 139 raid points, averaging 6.32 raid point per match.


His performances caught the eye of the national selectors, earning him a spot on the Indian team for the Asian Games. “I received my Team India kit on the 27th of October. I still remember it,” he says.


The crowning glory came in PKL Season 10 when Akash, along with his Puneri Paltan teammates, lifted the coveted trophy. Albeit playing a diminished role, he managed an impressive 56 raid points in the 13 matches he played. “There was only one target then... we had made up our minds that we had to win the title this season, whatever it took,” he shared, reflecting on the team’s collective determination. Now, Akash stands as a beacon of hope for young athletes from rural India. His message to them is clear: “Keep believing in yourselves and your dedication and efforts.” He emphasizes the importance of loyalty, urging young players to stay true to the clubs that nurture them.


As he prepares for PKL Season 11, his journey from the muddy grounds of Adgaon to the bright lights of Pro Kabaddi serves as a testament to the power of dreams, determination, and unwavering support.

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