top of page

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.)

Bharat’s Jetson Cities, Light-years Away from Nature

Jan 18, 2025
5 min read

Updated: Jan 20, 2025

Jetson Cities

One thing is for certain: our Bharatiya cities, the big metros and towns, are fast becoming like the ‘Jetson’ cities. For those who are unaware of Jetson cities, these were first shown in the famous Hanna-Barbera cartoon series, the Jetsons, set in the 2100s, where cities are air-tight glass globules tethered to the ground, and the only way to get in and out are the flying cars. Yes, we, the city-dwellers, aspire to tall skyscrapers, spectacular bridges, world-class tunnels, swooshing metro trains, and we are building Jetson-like flying cars. A few HD drone images here and there, during the day and at night and around twilight, and we are content that our cities have become the cynosure of our own eyes. We want our cities to be brightly lit, with neon signs, laser shows, and large billboard videos. We would then fulfil our inner desire to have a city on par with Tokyo, New York, and Shanghai.


Our buildings, designed for the next 30 years, are well air-conditioned, shielding occupants from a soupy dust bowl of brown smog, soot, particulate matter, and fine dust. It is said that most new home buyers invest at least 10% of their property’s price in enhancing the interiors, soundproofing their homes, using air purifiers and conditioners, and disconnecting from the outside world for that much-needed solace. Indeed, large builders promote their projects as close to nature amidst tranquillity. However, there is always another builder eager to get one plot of land ahead of yours to enjoy that nature. To be truthful, access to nature now comes at a premium - even the skies.


Let’s assume the working-age population is occupied in the leisure of our Jetson cities, but how many of their young school and college-going kids have seen the long arm of the Milky Way galaxy from their cities? How many have witnessed a comet zooming by? How many know about endemic plants with medicinal properties? When did they last see a chirping house sparrow? How many know that the nearest sewage drain was once a freshwater stream? When did they last find their suburban beach prettier than the resort beaches of Maldives?


The intent to ask these questions is simple: Bharat is currently at a crossroads. Pundits are enthusiastic about a cultural renaissance on the horizon. Corporate leaders, on the other hand, want us to invest hundreds of hours each week to pay our dues to the growth of the national GDP. But no one asks, if a cultural renaissance is to occur, who will generate the new understandings and insights of nature that arise typically during such a period of human advancement? No one is actually asking, for whom are we building the nation if there is no time for children, or worse, if there is no time or intent to have children. In the process of growing rich, we are about to become old. By 2047, 65% of the population under the age of 35 will grow beyond 35 all at once, and we’d have an enormous population in advanced ages with a tapering young population, a graph that looks like a banyan tree. Unfortunately, that young population will have no access to the knowledge that nature has to offer, neither flora and fauna nor the seas and the skies.


Our urbane lifestyles need tempering. Such tempering can occur only if we ensure the revival of natural sciences during this period of cultural renaissance and nation-building. Let’s not rely solely on the educational system. With Indian Knowledge Systems, constructive changes are underway, and academic curricula are poised to improve for the greater good. However, true knowledge arises only when parents and grandparents introduce children to nature. Genuine understanding also develops from extracurricular activities in schools and colleges that encourage kids to observe, journal, and act on their discoveries. On the positive side, our country’s forest cover is increasing, as announced by the government. However, efforts must be made to ensure that every school or college, whether in Mumbai, Vijayawada, Gorakhpur, Ratlam, Thrissur, Bhuj, Faridabad, Imphal, Manali, Cuttack, or Ajmer, guarantees that their students are well aware of the endemic nature of their surroundings and are regularly observing and recording data on whatever interests them. Let kids observe rivers and understand the volume of water that flows through them. Let children learn about the decline of house sparrows in their cities and what steps should be taken to revive their populations. Let them study the bees in their nearby groves and recognise the vital role these bees play in nature.


Of course, you need to learn AI, robotics, fintech, the next generation of management courses, and all the engineering bells and whistles. However, we must not leave the next generation with inadequate comprehension and skills for understanding nature. We must ensure that nature conservation is not merely lip service or a tool for politicised green activists. This can be achieved if natural sciences are given the respect they deserve at the school, undergraduate, and postgraduate levels.


Indeed, I am a plebeian, and you might feel that you, too, could write a rant about the plight of our urban lives. Urban development and municipal experts have many solutions to propose, but few are willing to take action. However, that is not the issue I wish to highlight. I aim to illustrate a much larger concern—that Indian city dwellers are disoriented and devoid of nature, lacking a guiding star to lead them toward a brighter future. Our cities of Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru, Ahmedabad, Kolkata, and Chennai have taken on characteristics reminiscent of Jetson-like cities. We show little regard for the Nagar Devata, Gram Devata, and Van Devata, who have protected the cities, towns, and forests that once surrounded us. We wait for formal governance to clean up our beaches, rivers, and ponds without making sufficient efforts to prevent pollution in the first place.


For those striving to grasp spirituality not through the Puranas and Aadi-Granth but through new-age podcasts, I recommend watching Vinay Varanasi’s podcast on Bhagavan Vishnu’s Dashavatar. If it is clear that Bhagavan Vishnu does not tolerate disregard for Bhudevi or Mother Earth, why do we, the devotees of Bhagavan Vishnu, continue to pollute our Mother Earth—her air, soil, waters, and sounds? Or have we taken Elon Musk's words at face value, assuming our next destination is Mars after destroying Earth, only to ruin Mars later, even worse than its current clinically sterile state? If that is the case, then bear with me when I say this: these Jetson cities stand on precarious pillars of ego, victimhood, apathy, and consumerism, waiting to be toppled either by the true harbingers of order or by false prophets. Therefore, teach the next generations to observe nature, appreciate our coexistence with other species, and venerate the forces of nature. By doing so, we humans will be good, at least for the next thousand years. If not, prepare for a bleak future by the end of this century.


(The author is a Space and Emerging Technology Fellow at the Centre for Security, Strategy and Technology, Observer Research Foundation, Mumbai. Views personal.)

Comments


bottom of page