An Indecisive Indian

I have blogged about our Bayān-e-Ghālib show twice already, and some of you have surely read those accounts. Others interested may see the references at the bottom.   Briefly, in a world drowning in noise, where poetry gasps for breath, a team of Lucknowites dared to dream—not a quiet mehfil (assemblage), but a full-blown spectacle. Not just a recital, but a sensory celebration of the greatest Urdu poet to have ever lived and, of course, wandered the lanes of Delhi— Mirzā Asadullāh Khān Ghālib . The Bayān-e-Ghālib show was born of audacity—to let his verses come alive through khutūt , sur , and raqs (letters, musical notes, and dance), and to resound with the fire of storytelling. Not just the master’s andaaz-e-bayān (style of narration), but bayān with andaaz by the troupe. It turned out to be not merely Ghālib in paper and ink—it became Ghālib on stage , alive in music, motion, and magic.   And a recap, a glimpse into the spectacle:   Narration ...

There are some institutions in India whose accomplishments are so profound, and their culture so rarefied, that even attempting to describe them feels like carving one's initials into the face of a granite mountain—audacious and perhaps unnecessary. And yet, now and then, the spirit compels expression, if only to pay homage to those few luminous outliers that shine in our national landscape otherwise muddied by mediocrity. In a country where governance is often held hostage by self-serving civil servants, public sector undertakings  trudge along saddled by an army of uninspired managers, engineers and accountants, academia is adrift in a sea of average professors, research is plagued by dispirited scientists, and the Indian Railways still lumbers on like a feudal relic—it is these islands of excellence that blaze like beacons in the fog. In recent months, I had the good fortune of being invited to speak on Atmanirbhar Bharat and transformational innovation by the National Dairy De...

  The idea for this blog hitched a ride on a curious paradox—India’s High-Speed Rail dreams gliding on the promise of bullet-like velocity, but hobbling forward at the pace of a bullock cart with a limp. The immediate trigger was an invitation from Mint/Hindustan Times to speak on a panel with two fellow railway domain experts—stalwarts both of them—on the prospects of High-Speed Rail (HSR) in India.   Here's the published piece that emerged from that discussion: https://www.hindustantimes.com/genesis/highspeed-rail-driving-economic-growth-and-sustainability-in-india-101746593803612.html   The article captured the sanitised slice of what I said, and I extract the essence here for context:   There are global instances where high-speed trains have cannibalised air travel, dramatically reducing the carbon footprint. Just look at China—10 billion passenger trips annually, compared to about 8 billion in India—and they’ve built an eye-popping 45,000-kilometre high-speed r...

  https://anindecisiveindian.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-bayan-e-ghalib-show-kahte-hain-ki.html   In a world increasingly cluttered with cacophony and noise, where poetry often struggles to find its rightful space, I dared to dream—not merely a dream, but a spectacle. Not a mere recital of verses, but a visual and aural celebration of the greatest Urdu poet ever to have walked the narrow lanes of Delhi: Mirz ā  Asadull ā h Kh ā n  Ghālib .   I dreamt of something audacious—a show that would breathe life into Ghalib's immortal words, with every syllable soaked in sur (musical tune, note), every line adorned with raqs (dance), and every pause echoing with narrative gravitas. Bayān-e-Ghālib was to be no ordinary mehfil (assembly, gathering)—it would be an andaaz-e-b ayān aur (unique style of narration) , an experience that would lift Ghalib from the pages of diwans and letters and place him centre stage, where music, dance, and emotion entwine.   A...