Prakash Kumar

When I was a teenager stepping slowly into adulthood, I often wondered what truly happens when one becomes old. Life, as I observed it, appeared to follow a fixed and relentless trajectory—education, job, marriage, family, possessions. Alongside this ran an unspoken but powerful current of comparison: first with classmates and colleagues, later with cousins, siblings, and finally with those closest to us. The race never paused. There was no finish line, only shifting reference points. During this long and breathless run, I held onto a quiet hope. I believed that with age and experience, people would eventually see the futility of endlessly amassing wealth and status. I imagined that maturity would bring a widening of vision—that people would recognize real wealth in humane relationships, empathy, and a deeper connection with the world beyond themselves. What I witnessed instead was deeply unsettling. Many of those I observed—people entering their sixties, seventies, eighties, and...

The power of silence and solitude is not easily felt. For roughly one decade, I have been trying to experience this elusive state. I explored several manners of techniques and tools, yet it continues to elude me. I spent considerable time in the Himalayas, embarked on several long solo journeys both within country and abroad, read countless books and articles, and practiced meditation and yoga. Throughout this journey, I try to develop a non-reactive mindset while continuing to work. What amazes me in this process is that the murmuring self never allows you to rest in silence, even in the deep mountains where you are completely alone. What I come to understand is that the inner self is the primary obstacle to meaningful silence and solitude. I try to work on this realization, observing all sorts of communication with my inner self while trying not to be reactive or repetitive. It remains a work in progress, but the initial results are bit positive. In this process, I learned to mai...

  As we witness the devastating conflicts in Ukraine and the Middle East, and witnessing the rising tide of authoritarianism worldwide, Doris Lessing's 1957 reflections on the artist's role become more relevant. Since the 1960s, the world has moved from testing nuclear weapons to stockpiling large arsenals, while simultaneously creating an ecological time bomb. Today’s conflicts starkly put nuclear power nations against aspiring ones, while environmental destruction threatens all nations regardless of their arsenals.  Writing in the shadow of nuclear testing and the cold war, she understood something profound about how we face civilizational threats—and how easily we retreat into either "the pleasurable luxury of despair" or hollow platitudes. Her words remind us that in times when madmen hold switches of destruction, artists, writers and individuals bear a special responsibility: not to turn away from the nightmare, but to help us imagine what living might look lik...