From Chakra Meditation to a Journey of Self-Discovery

 

I have been practising Chakra Meditation for nearly four decades.

For many years, it remained largely a personal practice. As my own understanding deepened, I began sharing the practice with a few people around me through in-person sessions. Then came COVID. Like many other activities, the sessions moved online and that unexpectedly became the beginning of something much larger.

What started simply as teaching Chakra Meditation gradually evolved into a structured journey of self-discovery and understanding life through understanding ourselves.

Bringing Ancient Wisdom and Modern Science Together

One question has fascinated me throughout this journey:

What actually happens within us when we meditate?

My interest in the science of meditation led me to explore neuroscience and other scientific perspectives alongside what our ancient scriptures and yogic traditions tell us.

This gradually became an important part of the course.

Rather than asking participants simply to practise a technique, I wanted them to understand the body, mind and energy processes associated with meditation, and how sustained practice could potentially influence the way we perceive, become aware and respond to situations in everyday life.

The course therefore evolved into a blend of ancient wisdom, personal experience and contemporary scientific understanding.

A Journey Into the Self

Over successive batches, the programme became more structured and experiential.

Today, the journey explores several interconnected dimensions: the mind and its patterns; the subtle-energy architecture of chakras and nadis; prana or life-force energy; interactions between body, mind and energy; our receptivity to universal life-force energy; gratitude and affirmations as part of inner practice; vibrations and frequencies; and exercises for cleansing and quietening the mind.

But I have consciously tried not to make these merely subjects to be taught.

The intention is to create experiences through which participants can observe what is happening within themselves.

Meditation then becomes more than sitting quietly with closed eyes. It becomes a way of understanding ourselves, and perhaps gradually transforming the way we live.

Can We Measure What We Cannot Easily See?

Another area that has fascinated me for many years is the measurement of subtle energies.

Can something that we experience subjectively during meditation also leave measurable effects on the body or mind?

This led me to explore different approaches to observing the state of mind, physiological changes and patterns associated with what traditions describe as life-force or subtle energy.

I eventually introduced an entire session called “Measuring the Unseen” into the programme.

During the session, we discuss - and in some cases demonstrate - different approaches such as physiological measurements, Kirlian / GDV-type imaging, aura or bio-field scanning, and other emerging approaches such quantum-physics based approaches that attempt to interpret subtle or subconscious patterns.

I am careful to distinguish between what science can measure directly, what can only be inferred from measurable effects, and what still remains exploratory.

For me, that distinction is important. Spiritual experience does not need to be forced into science, nor should scientific terminology be used merely to legitimise spiritual ideas. Both can contribute to our understanding when we remain curious about what each can, and cannot, tell us.

The Life Mirror

This exploration eventually led me in another direction.

I began working on an AI-assisted reflection framework based not on instruments, but on something much closer to everyday life:

How do we respond to situations?

An unexpected expense, criticism, rejection, recognition, disappointment, hurtful words, uncertainty etc.

Our responses to ordinary situations can reveal a great deal about what is happening within us.

The framework therefore looks separately at two dimensions: (1) our expression or response, and (2) our awareness of what is happening within us while we respond.

The purpose is not diagnosis, nor is it to attach a label to a person. It is a self-reflection tool - a mirror that may help participants observe patterns across different dimensions of life and revisit them after continued meditation practice.

I call it the Life Mirror.

Eighteen Batches - and Still Evolving

In the early days, I documented very little. I was more interested in conducting the sessions and observing how people experienced them.

Later, I realised that the programme itself was evolving and needed to be documented systematically.

Since beginning that documentation, I have completed 18 batches, and Batch 19 is now being planned in couple of weeks.

I don't advertise the programme. Participants have come almost entirely through word of mouth from people who have experienced the course themselves.

I deliberately keep each batch small, with a maximum of around 30 participants. We meet twice a week, and the ten-session journey is completed over approximately five weeks.

Participants have joined from different parts of the world, bringing very different life experiences into the same exploration of the self.

The Journey Continues Beyond the Course

The sessions themselves are only one part of the journey.

We also have a vibrant WhatsApp community called Chakra Dhyana Sadhana, where conversations continue around meditation, awareness, mind, energy and everyday life.

Questions, reflections, small experiments and polls often turn into interesting discussions.

It does take a considerable amount of my time.

But I thoroughly enjoy it.

Much of what I share is knowledge that I myself have received, studied, experimented with and gathered over many years. Being able to pass some of it on, and seeing people use it for their own self-development, is deeply fulfilling.

A Different Kind of Guru Dakshina

The course is completely free.

Occasionally, participants ask whether they can offer me a Guru Dakshina.

I tell them that I am happy to receive their gratitude in the form of energy rather than money.

If they still feel they would like to give something, I request them to donate an amount of their choice to an NGO that I am associated with, working in the neurodiversity space.

That, for me, makes the circle complete.

What Began as a Meditation Practice...

When I look back, it is interesting to see how something that began as my personal Chakra Meditation practice nearly four decades ago has taken on a life of its own.

It became a meditation course.

The course became a journey into the mind, energy and awareness.

That journey led to questions.

The questions led to research.

The research led to experiments, measurements and new frameworks for self-reflection.

And every batch teaches me something new.

Perhaps that is what I find most satisfying about this entire journey: I may be conducting the sessions, but the learning is never one-way.

We explore together. We experience together. And, in many ways, we all learn from each other.

The journey continues.

Transitioning to Independent Living: Pratibha's First Month at TTC

It has been a month since we moved to The Together Community (TTC), Hosur on 22nd June.  Looking back, I feel this transition to independent living did not happen in a month. It is the culmination of years of preparation, patient planning, and the support of an extraordinary team.

The Together Community (TTC) is a thoughtfully designed residential community for adults with Autism and developmental disabilities, where independent living is supported through a caring ecosystem of families, Direct Support Professionals (DSPs), medical support, and community life. It is an initiative of the Together Foundation Trust, with Smt. Sangeetha Chakrapani, Founder of the Trust and the driving force behind the TTC project, providing the vision and leadership behind this unique model of supported independent living.

Right from the beginning, Sangeetha Chakrapani guided us with a well-thought-out transition plan. Her suggestion was simple but brilliant - we recreated the ambience of the studio apartment in our own bedroom. We arranged two beds: one for Pratibha and one for her Direct Support Professional (DSP), Basanti Yadav. This gave the two of them an opportunity to get to know each other in a familiar environment before moving into the studio apartment.

Initially, we were contemplating whether Pratibha really needed a dedicated DSP. We thought that perhaps a shared caregiver, supporting two or three special adults, would be sufficient, considering Pratibha's functional independence. Looking back now, we feel that having a dedicated DSP during this transition phase made a big difference. It allowed trust to develop naturally, gave Pratibha the reassurance of a familiar face, and helped her adapt to her new environment much more smoothly than we had imagined.

The following Monday, Pratibha shifted to her studio apartment. To make the transition gentle, Asha stayed inside the studio apartment with her for the first week. We could see that Pratibha was making a genuine effort to adapt to her new surroundings.

What probably helped the most was the preparation that had begun long before we came to TTC. For more than five years, we had been talking to Pratibha about independent living. We had tried to help her understand that one day she would have a home of her own and that we wanted her to live as independently as possible with the right support. So, when she entered the studio apartment, she didn't see it as a temporary place. She genuinely tried to make it her own home.

Our weekend routine also became an important part of the transition. Every Friday evening, Pratibha comes to our villa, spends Friday night with us, attends her day activities on Saturday, returns home on Saturday evening, and stays with us until Sunday evening. On Sundays, we prepare some of the food that we are used to so that neither Pratibha nor we miss our familiar Konkani cuisine. After dinner on Sunday, she happily goes back to her studio apartment, where Basanti joins her.

Gradually, beautiful signs of belonging began to appear.

She started practising her sitar in the studio apartment with my help. She arranged her belongings comfortably. More importantly, she began referring to it as "my house" or "my studio apartment." Every time I heard those words, I felt an indescribable sense of relief. Those simple words told me that she had begun to accept the studio apartment as her own home.

Pratibha Practising Sitar in Her New Home

Another heartwarming development was the relationship that blossomed between Pratibha and Basanti. What started as a professional support relationship gradually transformed into a warm friendship. Pratibha started calling her affectionately "Basantu," teasing her, laughing with her, and treating her like a buddy rather than a caregiver. Watching that bond develop has been one of the most reassuring aspects of this transition.

After the first week, another carefully planned step was introduced. Instead of sleeping inside the studio apartment, Asha started sleeping outside the room. Pratibha knew her mother was just outside, and that reassurance helped her become increasingly comfortable sleeping independently while continuing to strengthen her bond with Basanti.

After reviewing Pratibha's progress with Sangeetha Chakrapani and the Team Leads, it was decided that, beginning Monday, 20th July, she was ready to stay independently with Basanti.

Pratibha knew that the review meeting with Sangeetha was taking place couple of days before this planned date. Though she repeatedly told Asha, "I am happy to stay without you," we could sense the emotional struggle she was going through. That emotional discomfort also manifested itself in a few physical symptoms. We were, however, confident that these would gradually reduce as her comfort and confidence increased. It was a courageous moment for her. Like every major life transition, it carried both excitement and anxiety.

Since 20th July, Pratibha has been staying independently in her studio apartment while we stay in our villa. We continue to meet her every day in the cafeteria during meal times, and she happily looks forward to coming home to our villa every Friday evening for the weekend.

Life is slowly settling into a beautiful rhythm.

Every day, I spend time with her helping her practise her sitar. Those sessions have become precious moments for both of us.

Asha spends about an hour with her every afternoon in the studio apartment, giving her emotional reassurance while still allowing her the space to build her own independent routine.

Basanti has been wonderful in helping Pratibha with her daily living skills, including ensuring that she takes the right portions of food during meals. The Medical Centre meticulously manages and monitors her medication - now limited to vitamin supplements - giving us tremendous confidence that her health is being looked after with great care. The team has also started helping Pratibha learn to ride a bicycle - something we never imagined would become part of her routine. Every new skill she acquires is another small step towards greater independence.

Looking back, I feel this successful transition is the result of meticulous planning by Sangeetha and the remarkable execution by the professional Team Leads. Every step was introduced gradually, never abruptly, allowing Pratibha to adjust at her own pace.

What has touched us equally is the warmth of the entire TTC community. The families here, the uncles and aunties, fellow special adults, the cafeteria staff, the DSPs, the Team Leads, and the Medical Centre have all played their part in making Pratibha feel accepted and at home. Independence, we have realised, does not mean living alone. It means living confidently within a caring community. The warmth and acceptance that surround her every day have made this transition far easier than we had imagined.

As parents, we often wonder whether our children will find a place where they truly belong after we are gone. Over the past month, TTC has given us the confidence that Pratibha is not just living in a place - she is becoming part of a family.

As parents, we are keeping our fingers crossed and praying that this beautiful journey continues just as smoothly.

This is still only the beginning.

But today, when Pratibha proudly says, "This is my house," I know that years of preparation, patience, hope, and countless small steps have finally begun to bear fruit.

I thought of sharing this experience because many parents of adults with special needs cherish the same dream that we have cherished for years - that their child should one day experience a life of dignity, belonging, and as much independence as possible.

Our experience over the past month has reinforced one important lesson: Independence is not achieved in a single day. It is built over years of preparation, trust, compassionate support, and the courage to let go - one small step at a time.

Measuring Hope: Helping Our Special Needs Children Grow Into Independence

There is one question that quietly follows almost every parent of a child with intellectual or developmental disabilities: “What will happen to my child after us?”

It often begins the day a diagnosis is given.  From that moment, life takes a turn we never expected. Parenting is no longer just about milestones and school admissions. It becomes a long, winding journey through special schools, therapy centres, special educators, psychologists, hospitals, and government offices for disability certificates and benefits… and then some more. It is emotionally draining, physically tiring, and often overwhelming.

As the years go by, that uncomfortable question - “What after us?” - only grows louder. For us, as parents of a daughter with autism and intellectual disability, this concern surfaced quite early, much before she became an adult. Over time, one thing became very clear to us: if we wanted her future to be safe, meaningful, and dignified - even in our absence - we had to help her grow as independent as possible in her everyday life.

This post is about how we tried to measure that functional independence, and how those measurements slowly turned into something more than numbers—they became a way of measuring hope. I will focus here on the measurement system we adopted and how it helped us set goals and plan our efforts. I am not going into the details of the interventions themselves.

Saying “make the person as functionally independent as possible” sounds simple. In reality, it raises many questions. Independent in what? To what level? And how do we know whether we are actually moving forward or just hoping we are?

When I began searching for answers, I could not find a convincing framework designed specifically for persons with intellectual and developmental disabilities that objectively captured everyday independence. That search eventually led me to a framework commonly used in stroke rehabilitation. I had also seen parts of this framework being used in a hospital to evaluate the effectiveness of certain interventions for persons with developmental disabilities - though only in a limited way.

What stood out for me was the clarity and objectivity of the approach. It did not rely on vague impressions or comparisons. It asked simple, concrete questions about what a person can actually do. That is when I decided to explore whether this framework could work for our daughter.

This exploration led us to the Functional Independence Measure (FIM). We began using it to systematically assess our daughter’s abilities across different life skills, hoping it would give us a clearer and more grounded way to track her journey toward independence.

The original FIM framework defines 6 domains and 18 activities. Over time, it was expanded to better reflect real life. Two important extensions were added:

• FAM (Functional Assessment Measure), which includes higher-level cognitive, psychosocial, and community-related abilities

• EADL (Extended Activities of Daily Living), which captures more complex, real-world tasks

Together, FIM + FAM + EADL form a comprehensive framework that spans basic self-care to broader life participation. I refer to this combined framework as EFIM – Extended Functional Independence Measure.

EFIM looks at functional independence across multiple domains, each broken down into specific activities.  Figure 1 presents domains and activities in the EFIM framework.

Figure 1: List of domains and activities in EFIM

Each activity is scored on a 7-point scale, based on a structured set of simple yes/no questions. This makes the scoring consistent and objective, rather than subjective or impression-based.

Figure 2: The 7-point scoring scale 

Each activity score reflects a level of independence. When scores across all 36 activities are added together, they give an overall Functional Independence Score - much like an index that allows us to see progress over time.

We created our first baseline EFIM score for Pratibha in 2008, and her overall score at that time was 116.

From there, we chose a few activities across different domains and set 6-month and 1-year goals. For each goal, we planned and carried out specific interventions. Every year, we repeated the measurement to see what had changed. If an activity showed no improvement for two consecutive years, we let that goal go and chose another. Some areas improved steadily, some slowly, and some barely at all.

Figure 3 shows how Pratibha’s EFIM scores for all the 36 activities for years 2008, 2015 and 2025..

Graphs 1 (blue), 2 (orange), and 3 (green) represent the years 2008, 2015, and 2025. Graph 4 superimposes all three to clearly show her growth in functional independence.

Figure 3:  Pratibha's EFIM scores for years 2008, 2015 and 2025.

A few observations form the graphs make this more concrete:

• Social Interaction (Activity 22) improved from a score of 3 in 2008, to 5 in 2015, and 7 in 2025

• Problem Solving (Activity 26) progressed from 1 → 2 → 5

• Home Finance (Activity 35) showed limited improvement: 1 → 1 → 2

• Comprehension (Activity 16) improved modestly from 2 to 4 over 17 years

These measurements helped us clearly see where progress was happening and where it was not—and guided us in deciding what kind of support to focus on.

Figure 4 below shows how Pratibha's overall EFIM score progressed over time.

Figure 4:  Progression of Pratibha's EFIM scores for 17 years

It is also revealing to see how activities moved across different levels of independence.  Figure 5 below presents changes in Pratibha's Functional Independence across categories in 2008 and 2025.

Figure 5:  Changes in Pratibha’s Functional Independence across Categories: 2008 and 2025.

In 2008:

• 7 activities were in total assistance

• 6 activities were already in complete independence, all of them related to mobility

• The largest number of activities fell under moderate assistance

By 2025:

• 0 activities are in total assistance

• 11 activities reached complete independence

In 2008, 29 out of 36 activities required some level of assistance. By 2025, that number had dropped significantly - clearly showing how functional independence of Pratibha improved over 17 years.

Looking back, we found Extended FIM (EFIM) to be an extremely useful framework - not just for assessment, but for planning life of persons with intellectual and developmental disabilities. It helped us identify areas for improvement, set realistic goals, and anticipate caregiving needs, especially in assisted or supported living environments.

Most importantly, it helped us replace vague fear with informed preparation. As we now move towards a community living setup where Pratibha will live independently in her own studio apartment, EFIM has played a crucial role in helping us prepare - for her future and for our peace of mind.

For us, measuring functional independence became a way of measuring hope - hope grounded not in wishful thinking, but in understanding, patience, and steady progress.

If you are reading this as a parent walking a similar path, please know that you are not alone in asking “What after us?” It is a heavy question, and there is no single right answer. But taking small, honest steps to understand your child’s abilities can replace some of that fear with clarity and confidence.

Independence does not arrive all at once, and it does not look the same for every child. Every small gain matters. Every skill learned, every support identified, is a step toward a safer and more dignified future.

Measuring progress is not about limiting hope—it is about grounding hope in reality. And sometimes, that is exactly what allows hope to grow.

My recent train travel experiences

We recently completed three train journeys — from Mumbai to Mangalore, Mangalore to Ernakulam, and Ernakulam to Hosur.  Each journey was on a different type of train and brought unique experiences. I thought it would be interesting to share a glimpse of our travel experiences with you.

We traveled by Matsyagandha Express from Lokmanya Tilak Terminus, Mumbai to Mangalore Central. Despite booking our tickets on the very first day of reservation, we managed to get only two upper berths and one middle berth in 3-tier AC. As senior citizens, both Asha and I were a bit concerned, especially since Pratibha is a person with special needs. Given that it had been quite a while since our last long train journey, we were unsure of how challenging this one might be.

It was a pleasant surprise to see the railway stations looking so clean, with facilities like electric buggies for passenger and luggage transport, as well as escalators and lifts. However, at Kurla LTT, we couldn’t locate the escalator and had to carry our luggage up the stairs, which was a bit stressful. Unfortunately, there were no signboards on the platform to guide us to the escalator. I had to purchase a platform ticket for someone who came to assist us. In the past, this meant standing in a long queue, but now, thanks to vending machines, the process is quick and seamless—just a few seconds!

The train seats and berths were impressively clean. Since it was an AC coach, we were provided with pillows, blankets, and a set of freshly laundered white linen sheets. However, something about the berths felt unfamiliar compared to what we remembered from earlier travels, though we couldn’t immediately identify the change. Pratibha took the middle berth, while Asha and I had to manage the upper ones — not an easy feat anymore. As we attempted to climb up, we realised that there was no proper grip or handhold. That’s when we noticed the usual vertical support hanging from the roof for the upper berth was missing. Perhaps it was removed as a cost-cutting measure, but its absence made it extremely difficult — especially for senior citizens like us — to climb up safely. It made me think: design improvements should also consider user comfort and accessibility, not just cost efficiency. Sadly, that seems to have been overlooked here.

Earlier, I used to be able to sit comfortably and even have a sip of water while on the upper berth. This time, I couldn’t even sit upright — it strained my neck. I’m not sure whether to blame my age or if the design changes for cost-cutting have reduced the berth height. Unfortunately, the joy we felt from seeing clean stations, tidy platforms, and spotless coaches quickly faded after this uncomfortable experience. It seems the design engineers have prioritised cost over passenger comfort. Still, we somehow managed to get through the night, and by morning, we arrived in Mangalore. One definite plus, though, was the availability of mobile charging points in the coach.

"Another major aspect of train travel is the condition of the toilets. In this train, the toilets were reasonably clean. Out of the four in our coach, only one was a western-style toilet. Having used western-style toilets for many years now, switching to the Indian-style ones isn’t easy — likely due to both age and habit. Our joints and muscles don’t cooperate as well anymore with that kind of posture. Still, we managed somehow."

I would describe this leg of the journey as a mix of both comfort and challenges..

Our next journey was after 2 days on the Vande Bharat Express from Mangalore to Ernakulam. Since this was a newly introduced train with a lot of buzz around it, my expectations were quite high. Pratibha was especially excited about its flight-like ambiance —  of course, the food!

The train was scheduled to depart at 6:25 AM, but even by 6:15 AM, it hadn’t arrived at the platform. Passengers waiting grew restless, and the railway staff were overwhelmed by the flurry of questions and concerns. The train finally arrived just 7 minutes before departure, causing a bit of a scramble to board. At the same time, the crew was busy loading food for the journey, adding to the chaos.

Many passengers were visibly disappointed by the last-minute platform placement. However, within just 10 minutes, everything fell into place, and the train departed at 6:29 AM — only 4 minutes late. I must say, full credit goes to the passengers for the swift boarding! Though I wasn’t too surprised — after all, I’ve seen hundreds of people get on and off Mumbai local trains in just 10 to 15 seconds!

Once we boarded the train, the experience turned out to be truly delightful. My sister joined us for this leg of the journey, and we were lucky to get three seats together, plus an aisle seat on the opposite side. Pratibha chose the aisle seat away from us and confidently said she wanted to sit by herself because she’s grown up now. It was heartwarming to see this change in her— her desire for independence and the confidence to sit apart from us brought us a lot of joy.

The ambiance in the Vande Bharat was truly impressive—comfortable seats with ample legroom, spacious overhead luggage racks, effective air conditioning, and more. We were given newspapers in English and Malayalam along with a half-liter bottle of Rail Neer water. The newspapers didn’t matter much to me, as I’ve long stopped reading them. In my view, most newspapers these days present stories instead of news, often tinted with political or religious biases depending on the publisher’s stance—a trend that’s true across much of today’s media.

About half an hour into the journey, tea and biscuits were served. They offered NutriChoice biscuits, which used to be my favourite years ago, but no longer. I’ve since chosen to avoid all maida-based foods and have given up on biscuits, cakes, and the like. However, travel comes with its own set of allowances, so I did indulge—though mindfully. The tea was premixed, including sugar. Still, since I’d already decided to be a bit more relaxed while traveling, I went ahead and had the tea.

Around 8 AM, breakfast was served, and the neatly packed tray made a good first impression. It included upma, sambar, two vadas, kesari (sheera), and a packet of Lotte Choco Pie. Though the meal was slightly on the heavier side, it was quite tasty. However, the sambar didn’t meet our expectations. I usually avoid sambar from outside since I’m not fond of the flavour of certain ingredients commonly used in restaurants, which we don’t use at home. As for the Choco Pie, none of us opened it— for obvious reasons.

The train ran on time at every station. The food service staff were polite and cheerful — it seemed like they had been well-trained in hospitality. There were plenty of charging points, offering both standard and USB slots. All in all, our experience on the Vande Bharat was very positive and enjoyable. I especially appreciated the thoughtful and ergonomic design of the interiors, from the seating and legroom to the overall convenience and comfort.

The toilet facilities in the Vande Bharat train were impressive — spacious, clean, and thoughtfully designed. The floor was dry, the commode was western-style, and there were proper arrangements for flushing, washing, and hand hygiene. This certainly added to the overall pleasant experience of the journey.

Our next leg of travel — from Ernakulam to Hosur — after a five-day break. Pratibha was eager to check on the progress of her apartment under construction in Hosur, so we decided to return to Mumbai via Hosur and Bangalore. We initially booked tickets on the Intercity SF Express in the AC Chair Car, but they remained on the waitlist. As a backup, we also booked second-class (non-AC) chair car tickets, which were confirmed. Since the AC tickets didn’t clear, we traveled in the non-AC compartment.

Unfortunately, we couldn't get three seats together. We managed two seats side by side — a middle and an aisle — and one window seat a row away. We hoped the person seated near us would agree to swap the window seat, so we could sit together, but he refused to exchange the seats. Pratibha was happy to take the away seat, proudly saying she felt grown-up and independent. Though we missed sitting together — chatting, playing cards, and sharing snacks — our “let go” attitude and belief that “everything happens for a reason” helped us take it in stride.

The heat was intense, especially while passing through Palakkad and Salem, and we could feel the hot air inside the compartment. Still, we passed the time enjoying the scenic views of Kerala — the lush greenery, people working in the paddy fields, and large flower and vegetable farms. These glimpses of everyday life are one of the many charms of train travel. In contrast, air travel offers only clouds and a rather bland experience. When time is a constraint, flying becomes necessary, but it lacks the richness of a train journey.

Pratibha enjoys trains journeys — she loves the freedom to move around and doesn’t have to worry about turbulence. For all three of us, train travel continues to be a favourite. With cleaner trains, better-maintained stations, and generally punctual schedules, the experience has improved significantly. If Indian Railways could further refine the ergonomic aspects, it would elevate the comfort and joy of traveling even more.

One unexpected disappointment was the absence of mobile charging points in the train. In today’s world, our mobile phones have almost become an extension of ourselves — it’s hard to imagine being disconnected because the phone runs out of charge. To conserve battery, I kept mobile data off for most of the journey.

The toilets, although reasonably clean, were all Indian-style. For those of us accustomed to western-style commodes, using these was a bit of a challenge — perhaps due to age, habits, or both.

Thankfully, my sister had packed delicious homemade breakfast and lunch for us, which made the journey all the more comforting. While I usually don’t mind sampling train food, the taste of home felt more appealing this time. Still, hearing the familiar cries of “Coffee… Chai… Vada… Samosa…” from the vendors brought a wave of nostalgia. That’s when I realised how much I missed those small but joyful elements of train travel.

One of my favourite things during such journeys is watching people — their mannerisms, conversations, and conversations  that often springs up between strangers. Sadly, that was missing this time. Most passengers were engrossed in their phones, with barely any interaction. It felt like a subtle but noticeable shift in the way we now travel.

The stretch from Dharmapuri to Hosur was beautiful. We passed large flower and vegetable farms — something I truly enjoy seeing. The train maintained near-perfect punctuality up until Dharmapuri, even arriving a few minutes early at several stations. That was a pleasant surprise in contrast to the usual "Indian Stretchable Time" (iST). However, after Dharmapuri, delays crept in, and by the time we reached Hosur, we were about 45 minutes behind schedule. The holdup was mostly due to unscheduled halts to allow other trains to pass. Despite that, it was a satisfying leg of the journey—although the dry hot air did make it uncomfortable as the day wore on.

Still, the journey gave us a much-needed "feel-good" vibe. Catching glimpses of rural life, even through a train window, brings me immense joy. To me, train travel is the closest we get to connecting with both nature and people in one go. Yes, there are little inconveniences, but the progress made by Indian Railways over the decades is remarkable.

I can vividly recall my first long train journey — from Madras (now Chennai) to Bokaro on a steam engine train in the early 1980s. It took over two days, and by the time we arrived, our faces were almost unrecognisable — covered in coal dust! Yet, those were memorable experiences. Getting off at stations like Rajahmundry and Jharsuguda to enjoy local food, drinking water from the taps on platforms, getting out to platforms at most stations — all part of the charm back then. We never even carried water bottles!

Indian Railways has truly come a long way since then:

From counter bookings to seamless online reservations,

From filthy coaches to clean, well-maintained ones,

From littered platforms to neat and organised stations,

From open toilets to bio-toilets,

From printed reservation charts to text notifications,

From pantry food to curated meals from your favourite restaurants,

From bulky TTE reservation lists to smart tablets,

From rickety old trains to ultra-modern Vande Bharat Expresses,

From long complaint queues to instant grievance redressal via text or social media…

The transformation is astounding.

A big salute to Indian Railways — one of the largest organisations in the world, with over 12.5 lakhs employees — working tirelessly to ensure that every journey is a safe, pleasant, and memorable one.