The evening sun dipped low as Ramesh stepped onto the crowded platform of Gaya Junction. The station was alive with a thousand tiny movements – tea vendors calling out their prices, coolies rushing with luggage balanced on their heads, and passengers weaving in and out of the crowd. Ramesh’s train, bound for Kolkata, was scheduled to depart at 6:10 p.m., yet the announcement board glowed ominously with the words “Delayed – Expected at 9:30 p.m.” He sighed. His suitcase was heavy, but his thoughts weighed more. It had been three years since he last saw his mother, and the urgency in his uncle’s telegram – “Come immediately” – suggested time was short. Finding a corner seat on a worn wooden bench, Ramesh opened a small tiffin box and ate the last of the chapatis his neighbour had packed. As the hours passed, the platform transformed. Daylight faded into a flickering yellow from overhead lamps. Street dogs roamed between the tracks, scavenging for scraps. Vendors switched to selling hot pakoras and steaming cups of chai, their spicy aroma mingling with the smell of diesel. Finally, at 9:45 p.m., a deep rumble signalled the train’s arrival. It crept into the station like a weary beast, its windows glowing with dim light. Ramesh hurried aboard, finding a seat near the window. The whistle blew, and the train groaned forward. He stared out at the passing silhouettes of huts, trees, and distant fields. As the night deepened, Ramesh wondered if he would reach home in time. Outside, the darkness seemed endless, but inside, hope flickered like the train’s trembling lamp – fragile, yet stubbornly alive.

Climate change is among the most pressing global issues of our time. It refers to long-term shifts in temperature, precipitation, and other climate patterns, largely caused by human activities. The burning of fossil fuels, industrial emissions, and deforestation release large amounts of greenhouse gases, such as carbon dioxide and methane, into the atmosphere. These gases trap heat, leading to a steady rise in global temperatures-a phenomenon known as global warming. The consequences are far-reaching. Melting ice caps and glaciers contribute to rising sea levels, threatening coastal communities. Extreme weather events, including hurricanes, droughts, and floods, have become more frequent and intense. Biodiversity is under threat as many species struggle to adapt to rapidly changing habitats. Human health is also at risk due to heatwaves, poor air quality, and the spread of diseases. Tackling climate change requires both global and local action. Governments must invest in renewable energy sources like solar and wind, enforce environmental regulations, and encourage sustainable practices. At the individual level, reducing waste, conserving energy, using eco-friendly transport, and planting trees can make a difference. Combating climate change is not only about protecting the planet for future generations-it is about safeguarding our present way of life.

“My children, this is the last lesson I shall give you. The order has come from Berlin to teach only German in the schools of Alsace and Lorraine. The new master comes tomorrow. This is your last French lesson. I want you to be very attentive. What a thunderclap these words were to me! Oh, the wretches; that was what they had put up at the town-hall! My last French lesson! Why, I hardly knew how to write! I should never learn anymore! I must stop there, then! Oh, how sorry I was for not learning my lessons, for seeking birds’ eggs, or going sliding on the Saar! My books, that had seemed such a nuisance a while ago, so heavy to carry, my grammar, and my history of the saints, were old friends now that I could not give up.”

Driving from my parent’s home to Cochin last Friday morning, I saw my mother, beside me, doze, open mouthed, her face ashen like that of a corpse and realised with pain that she was as old as she looked. But soon put that thought away, and looked out at young trees sprinting, the merry children spilling out of their homes.

“The presidents of the New York Central and the New York, New Haven and Hartford railroads will swear on a stack of timetables that there are only two. But I say there are three, because I’ve been on the third level of the Grand Central Station. Yes, I’ve taken the obvious step: I talked to a psychiatrist friend of mine, among others. He says it’s a waking-dream wish fulfilment. He says I’m unhappy. But that’s the reason, he says, I want to escape. Well, maybe, but I think it’s the Grand Central Station that’s odd. There are a dozen logical explanations for it, I suppose. And maybe my psychiatrist was right. But I keep wondering-what if the third level is there, really?”

The library stood at the edge of the town square, its stone walls streaked with moss and age. Its arched wooden doors bore deep scratches, and its iron handles were polished smooth by decades of eager hands. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of paper, ink, and dust – the perfume of centuries. Tall oak shelves loomed like solemn guardians, their spines whispering stories from every corner of the world. The afternoon light filtered through stained-glass windows, scattering crimson and gold across the tiled floor. In one corner, a grandfather clock ticked patiently, its chimes soft and reassuring. The reading room was lined with worn leather chairs whose cracked surfaces bore the weight of countless thinkers and dreamers. The tables, though scarred with ink stains, stood sturdy and proud. Silence reigned here, broken only by the rustle of turning pages or the occasional cough. In the farthest aisle lay the rare books section, where ancient volumes rested under glass – illuminated manuscripts, brittle scrolls, and first editions. Each was a treasure, a fragile survivor of time’s relentless march. For the librarian, this place was more than a workplace; it was a living museum. She moved quietly among the shelves, straightening books with a reverence one might show to relics. Every visitor seemed to leave lighter, as if the burden of the outside world had been eased by the library’s quiet embrace.

The internet is perhaps the most transformative invention of the modern era. It has revolutionized communication, learning, and business. With a single click, we can access vast amounts of information, connect with people across the globe, and conduct transactions from the comfort of our homes. Educational resources, online courses, and digital libraries have made learning accessible to anyone with an internet connection. Businesses thrive through e-commerce, while social media platforms allow individuals to share ideas and experiences instantly. However, the internet is not without drawbacks. Overuse can lead to addiction, reduced attention spans, and a decline in face-to-face communication. It is also a breeding ground for misinformation, cyberbullying, and security threats. Privacy concerns are rising as personal data is often collected and misused. Therefore, the internet can be both a boon and a bane, depending on how it is used. The solution lies in striking a balance-using it as a tool for learning, productivity, and meaningful connection while avoiding harmful overdependence. Ultimately, the internet’s value depends on the responsibility of its users.

“‘We must guard our language among us and never forget it, because when a people are enslaved, as long as they hold fast to their language, it is as if they had the key to their prison.’ Then he opened a grammar and read us our lesson. I was amazed to see how well I understood. All he said seemed so easy, so easy! I think, too, that I had never listened so carefully; and that he had never explained everything with so much patience. It seemed almost as if the poor man wanted to give us all he knew before going away, and to put it all into our heads at one stroke. After the grammar, we had a lesson in writing. That day M. Hamel had new copies for us, written in a beautiful round hand-‘France, Alsace, France, Alsace.’ They looked like little flags floating all over the schoolroom, hung from the rods at the top of our desks.”

But after the airport’s security check, standing a few yards away, I looked again at her, wan, pale as a late winter’s moon and felt that old familiar ache, my childhood’s fear, but all I said was, see you soon, Amma, all I did was smile and smile and smile.

“There were brass spittoons on the floor, and across the room a small, curved glass window with gold lettering on it that said ‘The Globe Newspaper’. Men wore derby hats, black four-button suits with tiny lapels, and big black handlebar moustaches. I saw a man pulling a gold watch out of his vest pocket. The currency they used was old-style bills. And I never saw so many beards, sideburns, and fancy moustaches in my life. The station itself smelled of cigars and old wood. The clerks looked at me strangely when I tried to buy tickets to Galesburg with my modern notes. That was when I realized-I was really in 1894, standing on the third level.”

Bees, though small, play an outsized role in maintaining the health of our planet. These industrious insects are primary pollinators for a vast range of crops and wild plants. Without them, many of the fruits, vegetables, and nuts we consume would become scarce or disappear entirely. In fact, around 75% of global food crops depend to some extent on pollination. Beyond agriculture, bees contribute to biodiversity. By enabling plants to reproduce, they support habitats for countless other species, from birds to mammals. Their work ensures the stability of ecosystems, which in turn benefits humans. However, bees face multiple threats. Pesticide use, loss of natural habitats due to urban expansion, climate change, and diseases have all contributed to significant declines in bee populations worldwide. Colony Collapse Disorder, a phenomenon where entire colonies vanish, has particularly alarmed scientists and farmers alike. Efforts to protect bees range from large-scale agricultural reforms to small actions taken by individuals. Planting native flowers, avoiding chemical pesticides, and supporting local beekeepers are effective steps that anyone can take. Governments and environmental organisations are also working to create “pollinator corridors” – connected green spaces that provide safe routes and food sources for bees. Protecting bees is not merely about saving a single species. It is about safeguarding the intricate web of life that sustains human existence. As Einstein is often (though perhaps wrongly) quoted: “If the bee disappeared off the face of the Earth, man would only have four years left to live.” Whether the quote is authentic or not, the truth it reflects is undeniable.

Space exploration represents humanity’s quest to understand the universe beyond our planet. Since the first moon landing in 1969, remarkable achievements have been made, including unmanned missions to Mars, probes to distant planets, and powerful telescopes capturing breath-taking images of galaxies. Satellites orbiting Earth provide essential services, from weather forecasting to GPS navigation and global communication. These advancements have not only expanded scientific knowledge but also led to technologies used in everyday life, such as improved medical imaging and water purification systems. However, space exploration is expensive and risky, sparking debate about whether resources should instead be directed toward solving urgent problems on Earth. Supporters argue that space research inspires innovation, fosters international cooperation, and prepares humanity for potential future colonization of other planets. With advancements in private space companies and reusable rockets, space travel is becoming more accessible. The dream of human settlements on Mars or lunar bases may one day become reality. Whether for science, survival, or sheer curiosity, space exploration continues to push the boundaries of what we know and what we can achieve.

“Why do you do this?” I ask Saheb, a rag picker boy who scrounges the garbage dumps of my neighbourhood. “I have nothing else to do,” he replies, looking away. “Go to school,” I say glibly, realising immediately how hollow the advice must sound. “There is no school in my neighbourhood. When they build one, I will go.” “If I start a school, will you come?” I ask, half-joking. “Yes,” he says, smiling broadly. A few days later, he comes running to me, “Is your school ready?” It takes longer to build a school, I say, embarrassed at having made a promise that was not meant. But promises like mine abound in every corner of his bleak world.

Now we will count to twelve and we will all keep still. For once on the face of the Earth, let’s not speak in any language; let’s stop for one second, and not move our arms so much.

Everyone stood transfixed in stupefaction. They looked wildly at each other and blinked. “O wise prophets! It was I who spoke.” This time there were no grounds for doubt. It was the infant born just ten days ago who had enunciated the words so clearly. The chief astrologer took off his spectacles and gazed intently at the baby. “All those who are born will one day have to die. We don’t need your predictions to know that. There would be some sense in it if you could tell us the manner of that death,” the royal infant uttered these words in his little squeaky voice.