In the precincts of the mind,
In the fortress I call mine,
Ties between India and East and Southeast Asia are bound to strengthen, given the growing synergies in strategic areas such as defence, critical technology and higher education. It is important for Indian students, professionals, and skilled workers to harness educational and work opportunities in that region that is open to receiving Indian students and techies. This is especially important given that countries in the Anglosphere, not just the US but also Canada and to an extent Australia, are adopting increasingly insular immigration policies and tightening student and work visa regulations.
Across Kashmir, the image of crowded reading rooms alongside empty classrooms should compel us to reflect on the direction our education system is taking. Reading rooms may help students prepare for examinations, but schools and colleges prepare them for life.
The future of Indian higher education may depend not on greater central control, but on creating autonomous institutions operating within a strong framework of accountability.
Pakistan’s absence is not without costs. Diplomatic exclusion is only one facet of the spectre that looms over the country: limited transit access, reduced prospects for integration into Bay-centric supply networks and weakened soft-power influences across the Indian Ocean littoral.
In the precincts of the mind,
In the fortress I call mine,
O Demise, thou art a friend true
When I feel lost and dark blue
The capriciousness of destiny
at play I see in every day
Is my Time really mine
Or, is there a paradox there,
Light up the wick of Conscience,
And the waiting lamp within,
Does too much joy a sadness bring
Must there be little bits of everything,
Rivers flow but they tell us no more
Where they come from , where they go,
Since we don’t know why we are here
Let’s do what the the Heaven we like,
Impatience they say, now holds sway
Impatience will bring forth gains,
You see, I C B M’s, as the much-touted
When life’s no more than each breath we take,
Than the days and nights that we call the past,
Materialism’s at its Zenith Now
But, Money can’t buy God nor ever will,
It’s not about Perfection
But, all about Connection,
The look in your eyes is no surprise,
The fear I see is meant to be
I think I knew who lived here once
And, I think, I knew him well,