Colonel's Random Thoughts

The Moments I Wish I Could Keep Forever There are moments in life I would give almost anything to live again.  Not to change them. Not to make them better. Just to feel them once more: a voice I have not heard in years, a hand I once held, a laugh that filled a room, a face that meant home.  Perhaps that is why American singer-songwriter Jim Croce’s 1972 song "Time in a Bottle" has touched something deep within me. I will take a minute to narrate the tragedy of Jim. His story and the conception of the lyrics, makes this song even more priceless.  In 1971, Jim Croce, a Philadelphia native who struggled through multiple blue-collar jobs to support his singing and family, wrote the haunting melody and words for the classic “Time in a Bottle ” a chartbusting song when his wife Ingrid had informed him that she was pregnant with their unborn son, AJ - Adrian James. And l ess than two years later, Jim Croce’s life was tragically cut short by a plane crash at the age ...

The Currency of a Life At this stage of my life, I sometimes find myself looking backwards, not with regret, but with a strange sense of wonder. Sixty years have passed almost imperceptibly. I can still remember the boy I was, the uncomplicated happiness of childhood, the restless dreams of college, the urgency of beginning a career, the responsibilities of work, the arrival of marriage and family, and the years that followed, filled with duties, journeys, friendships, triumphs and disappointments. When I look back now, I realise something I could never have understood when I was young: we spend our entire lives exchanging time for things, without always asking whether the things are worth the time. That is why Haruki Murakami's words have stayed with me: “Spend your money on the things money can buy. Spend your time on the things money can’t buy.” As a child, I possessed very little money, yet somehow had an abundance of what I now recognise as priceless wealth: time. ...

Indian Democracy Needs More Ritikas! Because democracy is not protected merely by casting a vote. It is protected by the institutions that safeguard that vote, by journalists who scrutinise those institutions, and by citizens who refuse to look away when legitimate questions arise. An Election Commission must be trusted not because it demands trust, but because its actions can withstand scrutiny. A government must be accountable not because it claims to be, but because democratic institutions and a free press can question it without fear. That is why investigative journalism matters. The ballot gives citizens power. Journalism helps ensure that power is not quietly taken away from them. And when questions arise about the integrity of the electoral process, the answer cannot be silence, political defensiveness or partisan accusation. The answer must be evidence, transparency, independent scrutiny and accountability. That is the republic's insurance poli...

Before the Sun Rises Without Us One morning, you will wake up for the last time.  You will not know it is the last. You will make your coffee, reach for your phone, get dressed and begin another ordinary day. You may drive to work, answer calls, sit at your usual place at the dining table, laugh with your family, kiss your children, watch a movie and make plans for next week.  Nothing will announce that this is a moment you should remember forever. That is the strange condition of being human: we are given no calendar for the moments that matter most.  We do not know the date we will arrive in this world, nor the hour we will leave it. Between those two unknown points lies an astonishing interval called a lifetime. It may be twenty years. Forty. Sixty. Eighty. Perhaps a hundred.  We simply do not know.  Yet we live as though tomorrow has signed a contract with us.  We make plans. We postpone things. We tell ourselves there will be time later. La...

Kollavarsham 1202: A Journey Through Time, Memory and Resistance There are some people you meet in life who seem to inhabit a world slightly different from the rest of us. Jinson Abraham is one such person. I have known Jinson for nearly 17 years, and through all these years I have watched him remain what he has always been at heart: a deeply creative soul, endlessly curious, restless with ideas, and possessed of that rare ability to see things that most of us simply pass by. His ongoing exhibition at Durbar Hall Art Gallery, Kochi, is yet another window into that remarkable imagination. Kollavarsham 1202: Munne : Ippozh : Ini [Before, Now, Hereafter], conceived and photographed by Jinson, is not merely a photographic exhibition. It is an encounter with memory, history, identity and resistance. Inspired by Kerala's complex history of the female body, clothing, caste and social power, the project brings together twelve women, twelve portraits and twelve months of the Mal...

Maybe I Am Meant to Be Unfinished When I was young, I thought life was a question that needed a single answer. At different points, I wanted to be a poet, a filmmaker, a librarian, a café owner, a therapist, an architect, a musician playing on sidewalks. I imagined selling books in a quiet little town, growing my own vegetables, healing people, wearing suits in glass buildings, dancing on rooftops in cities that never slept. Sometimes I even wanted to disappear. Looking back, these were not confused dreams. They were different windows through which I wanted to experience life. Perhaps that is what growing older teaches us. Our goals do not remain still because we do not remain still. What seemed desperately important at twenty may feel strangely irrelevant at forty. What we once called success may later seem like an elaborate distraction. A failure that broke us at one age may become the very experience that gave us wisdom at another. Life keeps editing us. ...