An Indecisive Indian

In an earlier blog (reference at the end), I had written about the Jagjit Singh show in which I was to assume the role of narrator. The evening, held on 5th April in Lucknow, met with an exceptionally warm response and, even at the cost of sounding a touch pretentious, I must admit to a quiet sense of being blessed, rather a novice to theatre, to have left some small imprint upon the performing arts canvas. Khwaateen o hazraat (ladies and gentlemen), if the prelude to an evening is anticipation, then what follows a truly lived mehfil (gathering) is something far more elusive, almost ineffable. One returns not merely with memories, but with a lingering kaifiyat (state of being), as though some unseen mehmaan (guest) has visited the soul and quietly taken residence there. As the show Kāġhaz Ki Kashti unfolded in Lucknow, it felt as if that mehmaan was none other than Jagjit Singh himself, his rooh (spirit) gently presiding over every sur (note), every lafz (word), every thehraav (pa...

  There is a famous quote, often attributed to Winston Churchill , that “There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics.” In today’s climate of hype and headline-making announcements, one might well add a fourth category: declarations that fall into four convenient shades, the truth, the lie, the hype, and the half-truth. Indian Railways (IR) , it would seem, has not merely learnt the craft of presenting hype and half-truths but has elevated it to something of a performing art, complete with drumrolls, confetti cannons, standing ovations. First the hype. There are innumerable examples, but let us stick to the latest one. It was announced this week that building on the success of Vande Bharat trains, a new era of high-speed freight transport is going to begin with Vande Bharat-based freight trains. IR is gearing up to launch India’s Vande Bharat freight EMU, and Integral Coach Factory, Chennai, will soon roll out the first prototype for testing and trials. The fre...

Khwateen o hazraat (ladies and gentlemen), how fortunate you are. You were born in Hindustan, and in your virasat (heritage) you received not merely a language but a living, breathing tehzeeb (culture), zaban-e-Urdu (the Urdu language), or better still, Hindustani. And with it came that exquisite inheritance of adab (literature), sher o shairi (poetry). Such is this adab that one can only marvel at this khushnaseebi (good fortune), that countless poets have adorned the husn-e-ghazal (beauty of the ghazal), and will continue to do so for ages to come. Thus was created this luminous khazana (treasure) of ghazals, and among those who carried it to the hearts of people with unmatched grace, the name that rises above all is Jagjit Singh. What is a ghazal? It is as if a husn-e-be-misaal (peerless beauty) has gently shaken her rain-kissed tresses, and in that fleeting moment the air is filled with a lateef (delicate) freshness, a roohani kaifiyat (spiritual mood). Like droplets slipping...

  Let me begin with a disclaimer, for what I am about to say will inevitably be dismissed by some as compulsive negativity, without the courtesy of examining the concerns being raised. The recent India AI Summit 2026 unfolded less like a conference and more like a coronation. Vast LED walls pulsed with algorithmic optimism, exhibition halls shimmered with robotic choreography, and panel discussions rose and fell in crescendos about ethical AI, sovereign compute and India’s moment in the digital century. Policymakers, top global government representatives, investors and venture capitalists, industry leaders from India and around the world, startups and researchers converged under one gleaming roof, each armed with slides, statistics and suitably visionary adjectives. India’s digital public infrastructure, from Aadhaar to UPI and other population-scale platforms, bore testimony to administrative success and, beyond that, stood as a civilisational proof of concept. The narrative...

  Union Budgets are meant to be moments of stock-taking and signal setting. As the Finance Minister speaks, priorities are revealed not merely through allocations, but through emphasis, intent and, at times, carefully choreographed silence. For Indian Railways (IR), that silence has now evolved into a full-fledged policy instrument, not accidental but “carefully budgeted”, with footnotes “strategically camouflaged”, delivering clearer signals than most speeches manage. Once a standalone spectacle, the Railway Budget was the annual confession booth where ambitions were proclaimed, inconvenient truths reluctantly admitted, and the nation’s transport backbone subjected to public cross-examination. Since its merger with the Union Budget, however, IR has been quietly demoted to a footnote. Vast operations, stubborn structural problems and a permanently fragile financial balance sheet are now squeezed into a few lines and a cluster of tables buried so deep in the documents that their...

  Sir William Mark Tully passed away on 25 January 2026. KBE. Former BBC Bureau Chief in India for two decades. A BBC journalist for over thirty years. Winner of numerous awards. Author of nine books. All this is known. All this will be written, recorded, archived. And yet, none of it quite captures the man. In the days following his passing, I read deeply moving obituaries written by friends whom I admire. Rajendra Aklekar, journalist with Mid-Day and chronicler of India’s rail history and heritage. Deepak Sapra, one of the most outstanding alumni of my railway alma mater and author of the much-loved The Boy Who Loved Trains . Incidentally, Sir Mark wrote the foreword to their books, as he did to mine, My Train 18 Story . Reading their tributes stirred something personal in me. I felt compelled to write, not merely because Sir Mark was a towering journalist, but because he had left an indelible imprint on my own life and thinking. What truly set Mark Tully apart,...