4th Dimension

The Hanuman Chalisa emerged from the soul of a poet in the 16th century—Tulsidas, a sage steeped in bhakti and awakened vision. He composed it in Awadhi, the dialect of the common people, far removed from the learned tongue of Sanskrit. This was a radical act: to take devotion out of the temples and place it on village lips. The hymn’s legend is just as powerful as its verses. Imprisoned by Emperor Akbar, as one narrative goes, Tulsidas composed the Chalisa during forty days of confinement. Each day, he recited a verse. On the fortieth day, an army of monkeys stormed the court, leading to his release. History may not confirm the tale. But the power of the story is symbolic—it speaks to what devotees know: Hanuman comes where he is called. Architecture of the Divine The Chalisa begins with a homage to the guru, before flowing into forty chaupais—couplets extolling Hanuman’s strength, wisdom, and unwavering devotion to Rama. It ends with verses promising protection, courage, and spiritua...

Things I never expected in Vadodara include uncivilized public behaviour. But the recent drink and drive case of Rakshit Chaurasiya is intriguing to me. he shouted "Another Round" , "Nikita" and "Om Namah Shivay" after killing and injuring innocents. Which is not unknown to us. It has become a very common scenario where a late-night street in a bustling city, a luxury car speeds past, a loud thud, a body on the ground. The driver? Gone. The headlines the next morning scream outrage, but within weeks, the case disappears into legal oblivion. It’s a script we’ve seen play out time and again, especially in recent years, where young, affluent men behind expensive wheels seem to treat traffic laws as mere suggestions. But has it always been this way? Have hit-and-run cases always plagued India, or is this a new, ugly side-effect of rising wealth, urbanisation, and the lack of consequences? Let’s take a journey through the decades, from post-independence India’s...