4th Dimension

Recently, while binge-watching Squid Game , something strange happened. No, not just the shock of people literally dying over red light-green light. Something more unsettling. A question, quiet but sharp, started whispering in my mind: Are my choices really mine? I mean; really. Are we choosing, or just reacting to circumstances cleverly dressed up as options? Because in Squid Game , every player "chooses" to be there. There’s no handcuffs, no force. Just a polite offer: play the game, win a fortune, escape your miserable life. Sounds fair... until you realise they were picked because their lives were already rigged against them. Desperate people with no good options makes the easiest targets for a system pretending to give them freedom. So when you see them pressing those creepy little buttons; vote to quit, vote to stay; you realise this isn’t choice. It’s theatre. A performance of free will inside a structure that’s already made most of the decisions for them. A...

It all began, as many profound sociological inquiries do, with a toddler, a cartoon, and an unintended insult. I overheard an Indian mother scolding her three-year-old son for calling his father "Papa Pig." The horror in her voice was matched only by the child's innocent grin. Now, calling someone a pig in India isn’t just cheeky, it’s bordering on blasphemous. Yet here was a child, clearly influenced by Peppa Pig, nonchalantly dropping farm-animal epithets. Intrigued, and slightly amused, I began to dig deeper. After all, cartoons aren’t just moving pictures. They’re miniature empires of soft power. Me, who grew up with Mowgli’s jungle wisdom, Uncle Scrooge’s capitalist acumen, Dexter’s lab-coat logic, and the Powerpuff Girls’ sugar-spice-chemical-X formula for justice, I hold a certain reverence for cartoons. But today, as a father and a sociologist, I find myself questioning: what are these cartoons really teaching our children? And who, exactly, is doing the teaching?...

Yesterday, I met my ex-neighbour at a temple. Not just any temple. The Umiya Devi temple—the unofficial parliament for a certain caste’s community matters. He was beaming. Turns out, his caste group is organising a National Business Summit. Not a business summit. A caste-based business summit. For businesspersons of their caste only, thank you very much. Proudly, he informed me that he’s on the executive organising team. Big deal. Big pride. Big caste. And then it hit me. Again. My city just hosted a Global Patidar Business Summit. Before that, a Global Brahmin Summit. Add a couple of Yadav Yatras and Vaishya Ventures, and we’ve basically got an unofficial caste-based G20 happening every few months. Now, as someone who eats, sleeps and occasionally overthinks sociology, caste always felt like that stubborn stain on your white shirt. It fades, sure. But it never disappears. And yesterday, I saw why. Caste survives because it accommodates. It makes room for people who are left out by the...

Today, I came across a funny instagram reel of a so-called spiritual leader. He was publicly making fun of Science and cracking jokes about relationships with women and other people who seek solutions about their real life problems from him in the Pandal of a Katha vachan . This is not the first time I was looking at such a person,  I have seen many such spiritual leaders who often make fun of science, psychology and people in their Sabha .. These individuals, often referred to as Babas or guru, wield immense influence over vast numbers of people, shaping beliefs, behaviors, and even societal norms. But who are these Baba, and what accounts for their widespread popularity? Consider the case of Pookie Baba, also known by the more formal title Anirudhacharya Ji Maharaj or simply Anirudh Tiwari. Born in Jabalpur, Madhya Pradesh, in 1989, he moved to Vrindavan as a child to immerse himself in the study of Sanskrit and Hindu scriptures. From these modest beginnings, Pookie Baba has emer...

Reading time: 2 minutes.  As a faculty member in a respected B-School, I frequently engage with management theories and concepts. These ideas are mostly shaped by Western philosophies, which, in my view, do not fully capture the realities of the East. Because of these theories and concepts, management education today tends to cling to  Western ideas, leading to a shallow understanding of the human mind, culture, civilization, and society. Lately, I have been reviewing papers on Diversity, Inclusion, and Equality in management journals. Almost all of them lack a deep (sociological) understanding of diversity and inclusion. The Western idea of diversity focuses mainly on gender, sexuality, and race, but misses the broader idea of "human differences." Around the world, there are many types of diversity—like caste, religion, and language—that Western management theories often overlook. Take China and Japan, for example. These societies are heavily Westernised but remain deeply xe...

Reading time : 3-4 Minutes As I reflect on the recent tragedy at Rau's IAS Study Circle in Delhi, my mind drifts to the Ramayana, an epic that has always intrigued me. Why, I have often wondered, did Ravana, a so-called intellectual, allow his city to burn and his family to perish? Were his actions driven solely by desire, or was there something deeper at play? This question has haunted me, and as I ponder the tragic deaths of young UPSC aspirants in Delhi and protesting students in Dhaka, I begin to see a pattern in the human psyche: the older generations often cling to power at the expense of the youth. Ravana's story is one of immense complexity. Here was a man of great intellect and power, yet he allowed his ambitions and desires to consume him, leading to the destruction of his kingdom and the death of his loved ones. As I read the Ramayana, I wonder: why did Ravana make such choices? Was it merely his insatiable hunger for more power, or was it his desperate clinging to t...