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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.)

The Gentleman Legend

Writer: C.S. Krishnamurthy
C.S. Krishnamurthy
Jul 19
3 min read

Every sport produces champions. Very few produce figures who become the measure by which all future greatness is judged. Sir Garfield Sobers belonged to that rare company. His passing leaves untouched a reputation that has remained unchallenged for generations.


Cricket has witnessed magnificent batsmen, devastating bowlers, athletic fielders and exceptional all-rounders. Yet, whenever the conversation turns to the most complete cricketer the game has produced, Garfield Sobers remains the benchmark.


His achievements have long been part of cricketing folklore. More than 8,000 Test runs at an average above 57, 235 wickets with three distinct styles of left arm bowling, and over 100 catches speak of a player blessed with extraordinary versatility. His unbeaten 365 against Pakistan in 1958 stood as the highest individual Test score for more than 36 years, an innings that reflected both technical brilliance and remarkable concentration.


Statistics, however, explain only part of the story. Sobers possessed the rare ability to make difficult things appear effortless. Whether unfurling a cover drive, bowling with the new ball, switching seamlessly to spin as conditions demanded, or producing moments of brilliance in the field, he seemed to play cricket with uncommon ease. He was not merely adaptable. He excelled in every discipline the game offered.


Little wonder that generations have searched for “the next Sobers.” Equally little wonder that none has truly emerged.


Enduring Legacy

One of the defining images of his career came in 1968 when, playing for Nottinghamshire against Glamorgan, he became the first cricketer to strike six sixes in a single first-class over. It was an astonishing feat in an era when such aggression was almost unimaginable. Today, boundaries arrive in abundance in franchise cricket. Sobers accomplished the extraordinary long before power hitting became fashionable.


Yet his enduring appeal rested on far more than spectacular performances. He played with an infectious sense of freedom that reminded spectators that cricket, despite its pressures, remained a game to be enjoyed. There was elegance without extravagance, confidence without arrogance, and authority without intimidation.


The old sporting maxim that "form is temporary, class is permanent" found one of its finest expressions in Sobers. His class lay not only in the manner of his batting or bowling, but also in his conduct. He accepted victories without arrogance and setbacks without bitterness, a rare blend of grace that won him admirers far beyond the boundary ropes.


As captain, Sobers led the West Indies during a formative period in Caribbean cricket. The years of complete dominance would come later, but he helped build the confidence and identity that shaped one of the game's greatest teams. Leadership, for him, was never about rhetoric. It was about setting an example.


Many anecdotes continue to illuminate his remarkable career. One of the most enduring suggests that if someone were asked to choose a team to save the world, Sobers would be selected first and the rest could follow. It is an exaggeration, certainly, but it captures the esteem in which he was held by teammates, rivals and followers alike.


There is another story that reveals the man behind the legend. Throughout his retirement, Sobers remained remarkably approachable, generous with his time and willing to engage with young cricketers wherever he travelled. Knighthood never altered his simplicity. Those who met him often spoke first of his warmth, and only then of his greatness.


His affection for India was equally well known, and it was warmly reciprocated. Older cricket followers vividly remember his performances on Indian soil, while younger generations came to know him through stories told by parents, coaches and commentators. Across eras, the verdict remained unchanged.


Modern cricket celebrates specialists whose workloads are carefully managed. Sobers represented an age when versatility was indispensable. He responded to every challenge his captain presented without complaint and invariably strengthened the side.


“They broke the mould after him” is a phrase often used too freely in sport. In Sobers’ case, it feels entirely justified.


Cricket has lost one of its finest ambassadors. The scorebooks will preserve his runs, wickets and catches. Archives will preserve the images. Historians will preserve the achievements. What cannot be fully preserved is the privilege of watching a player who expanded the possibilities of the game while embodying its finest values.


Sir Garfield Sobers was not simply the greatest all-round cricketer of his time. He was one of cricket's finest gentlemen. That distinction, perhaps even more than his remarkable records, ensures that his legacy will endure for generations.


 (The writer is a retired banker and author. Views personal.)

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