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To be able to read, she had to hide.

In nineteenth-century Bengal, even a woman’s wish to learn to read could invite trouble. Yet one woman decided to learn the alphabet without a teacher, without books of her own, and with almost no time to herself.

Her name was Rassundari Devi.

Married young, her days were consumed by the kitchen, childcare, and endless household responsibilities. In many homes, women were discouraged-or forbidden-from studying. People feared that an educated woman would begin to question the social order.

But Rassundari’s desire to read refused to die.

As a child, she had listened to village schoolchildren reading aloud and caught a faint sense of the letters. Later, she watched her son practise writing.

One day, she found a copy of Chaitanya Bhagavat at home. She secretly kept a page from it and began comparing its letters with those in her son’s writing. Hidden away among cooking pots and household work, she matched letters, memorised them, and slowly taught herself to read.

Imagine: what we do today by simply opening a book, she had to do in fear of being caught.

Later in life, she also learned to write. The first part of her autobiography, Amar Jiban, was published in 1876. It is regarded as the first full-length autobiography written by an Indian woman-giving voice to a woman’s life in her own words.

Her story is not only about learning to read. It is about the mindset that keeps women away from knowledge.

Education is not merely a degree. It teaches us to examine our beliefs-to ask why we accept certain rules, roles, and expectations.

Even today, girls face expectations around marriage, family, clothing, and approval. Often, these are accepted without question.

Removing external barriers matters. But it is equally important to recognise the beliefs within us that quietly stop us from thinking freely.

🔗 Sources:

https://indianexpress.com/article/research/amar-jiban-the-story-of-a-bengali-woman-who-secretly-taught-herself-to-read-8484611/

https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/how-rassundari-devi-read-and-wrote-her-way-into-the-world-10575492/

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Life is a climb in which you have to keep going up continuously.

Once you conquer one challenge, take up an even bigger one ahead.

Whatever the purpose may be, life itself must not come to a halt.

Exercise for the body

Spirituality for the ego

~ acharya Prashant

When Twelve People Agree, Can They Still Be Wrong?

12 Angry Men is not merely a film about a murder trial. It is a powerful reflection on how people form judgments, how easily certainty can become dangerous, and why questioning an accepted conclusion is sometimes a moral responsibility.

The story centers on an 18-year-old boy accused of murdering his father. His fate rests with a jury of twelve men. At first, the case appears simple: nearly everyone believes the boy is guilty, and most jurors want to reach a verdict quickly.

But one juror refuses to vote “guilty” immediately.

He does not claim that the boy is innocent. He only asks the group to take the case seriously and examine the evidence once more before making a decision that could cost someone his life. That single request becomes the heart of the film.

Majority Is Not Truth

When twelve people agree, their agreement may feel convincing. But agreement is not the same as truth.

A majority can still be mistaken if people are relying on incomplete information, repeating each other’s assumptions, following a confident voice, or avoiding the discomfort of disagreement. Consensus can sometimes reflect careful reasoning;but it can also reflect conformity.

This applies far beyond a jury room. In workplaces, families, social media, politics, and everyday conversations, people often accept a view because “everyone thinks so.” But the number of people who believe something does not, by itself, make it correct.

The Courage to Change

One of the film’s most important lessons is that changing one’s mind is not a weakness.

To let go of a false belief, it is not enough for someone else to tell us that we are wrong. We must be willing to look closely, investigate honestly, and recognize for ourselves where our thinking has been shaped by bias or emotion.

12 Angry Men reminds us that justice requires more than intelligence. It requires humility,the humility to admit, “I may be wrong,” and the courage to change when the evidence demands it.

When everyone around us seems certain, perhaps the most necessary question is:

Is this really the truth,or merely a conclusion that many people have agreed to believe?

Source : 🔗 12 Angry Men, Sidney Lumet, 1957
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0050083/

If you use a tank to kill a mosquito, the problem may not be the tank

Imagine someone hands you a massive tank.

It has a powerful engine, heavy armour, and the capacity to strike from long range.

But what is your job?

To kill a mosquito.

You drive the tank, take aim, and finally manage to kill the mosquito.

Job done.

But the question is: did you really need a tank for this?

Our situation with AI today is very similar.

Frontier and large AI models are not just chatbots that answer questions. They can process long documents and large datasets, perform multi-step reasoning on complex problems, analyse images and other files, and assist with difficult coding tasks.

You can get a sense of their capability from some benchmarks. In OpenAI’s published benchmark table, one GPT‑5.6 configuration scored 92.3% on GPQA Diamond and 78.4% on MMMU Pro—benchmarks intended to evaluate graduate-level scientific reasoning and multimodal understanding.

In coding too, these models can handle multi-step work. In one OpenAI experiment, GPT‑5.3‑Codex ran continuously for about 25 hours, generating roughly 30,000 lines of code, running tests, and fixing errors. This was an experiment, not a guarantee that the model will reliably perform every long-running task.

So what we have in our hands is not just a fast calculator, but a tool capable of assisting with many kinds of complex work.

Now the real question is: what are we using it for?

Are we using this vast capacity to understand our inner and outer condition more clearly?

Or, even with such a powerful machine in our hands, are we still using it only for small, repetitive tasks that do not necessarily deepen our understanding?

This is where one idea I encountered in Acharya Prashant’s work became relevant to me: the challenge is not only the availability of powerful resources, but also the quality of their use.

To make proper use of powerful tools, our motives and attention need to be examined.

The problem may not lie in the objects themselves, but in the assumptions and desires of the person using them.

Before asking what AI can do, perhaps we should also ask:

What is the user trying to do with all this power?

Source https://developers.openai.com/blog/run-long-horizon-tasks-with-codex

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Janaki Ammal: India’s pioneering plant scientist

Born on 4 November 1897 in Thalassery (then Tellicherry) in Kerala, E. K. Janaki Ammal was one of India’s leading botanists.

She chose the path of science at a time when women’s access to higher education and participation in scientific research in India was extremely limited. She went on to become an internationally respected scientist in the fields of botany, genetics and cytology.

She pursued higher studies at the University of Michigan and became one of the very few Indian women of that era who made scientific research the central focus of their lives.

Janaki Ammal’s most important work was in the field of sugarcane.

At that time, many of the sugarcane varieties cultivated in India were not well suited to local conditions.

By researching the genetic structure of plants, she contributed to the development of varieties that were better adapted to Indian conditions.

Later, she researched many plant species and was also associated with major scientific works such as "Chromosome Atlas of Cultivated Plants", which is considered an important reference in the field of botany.

After Independence she returned to India and was involved in many national scientific projects, including the reorganization of the "Botanical Survey of India".

In the later part of her life, she gave special attention to biodiversity and the conservation of native plant species.

In recognition of her contributions, she was awarded the Padma Shri by the Government of India.

But the most interesting aspect of Janaki Ammal’s life is not only her scientific contribution.

Looking at her life, a question arises:

How does a human being choose the direction of their life?

From society’s expectations?

Or from their own curiosity?

Most of us grow up in an environment where many things are already decided:

What we should study.

What we should become.

Whom to value.

Whom not to.

Gradually, we too begin to move in that same direction.

But some people ask a different question:

What is it that I truly want to understand?

Janaki Ammal’s life is perhaps an example of this very question.

She chose science at a time when women’s presence in scientific fields was extremely limited.

She did not choose the easy path.

She worked in the direction in which her curiosity was alive.

Plant structures,

genetics,

natural diversity,

and scientific research,

these were not just academic subjects for her.

They were fields of exploration.

Here something important becomes visible.

When the driving force behind our work is not just achievement,

but a longing to understand,

then a person remains committed to it despite difficulties.

Perhaps this is why the importance of her life does not lie only in what she discovered.

Its importance also lies in the fact that she did not allow her curiosity to become smaller than her circumstances.

In all our lives there are some questions that are truly our own.

But often we leave them behind,

because society is rushing in some other direction.

Gradually, we do remain busy,

but we forget to examine whether what we are doing is really our own choice,

or just a direction we have passively accepted.

Janaki Ammal ji life gives us an opportunity to see that growth does not come merely from adding achievements.

Growth comes when a person can remain honest to the question that is alive within.

For curiosity does not give only knowledge;

it can also change the direction of one’s life.

🔗 Sources:

https://iiim.res.in/herbarium/edavaleth-kakkat-janaki-ammal.htm

https://www.unsw.edu.au/science/about-us/equity-diversity-inclusion/belonging-in-science/science-history-profiles/ek-janaki-ammal

https://www.mpg.de/19967547/janaki-ammal

After the Goa session, when I came back home, I was showing my friends the videos and photos from there.

One of those was this video too. Seeing it, one of them said, “Weren’t you scared? So late at night you just went out like that with some unknown guy? ”

Her question was natural.

In India, we mostly just imagine getting to live such a free life. If I hadn’t met Acharya Ji, I would have asked the same question: “How could you go out alone so late at night with some guy? ”

My answer was: This is exactly what Acharya Ji has given us. The kind of society we used to only imagine, he has actually given us that ready-made. Where there is no “boy” and no “girl,” there are just human beings.

And these are not just words, this is my life, my real family, the one Acharya Ji has given me.

After the sessions, I was supposed to return home, but my heart wanted to roam a bit more, to gather a few more memories. So I stepped out of Ravindra Bhavan, met a few volunteers there and said, “Let’s go somewhere, I feel like going out.” They also said, “Let’s go…”

Then we thought of going to Agonda Beach.

I had initially asked one person, then slowly we became five people, and I was the sixth, the only girl. But it never even crossed my mind; there was only fun and joy with everyone.

With bhajans and songs on the beach, we didn’t even realize how the night passed. When we checked the time, it was already 1 a.m.

I also had to go to the airport . I rested for a little while in the room and then we left for the airport. I couldn’t tell where night ended and day began—time just flew.

First time in Goa, that too as a solo trip. First time at an airport . All of this was a first for me, yet there was absolutely no fear, only the joy of the journey and the longing for the destination.

The journey was beautiful, and so was the destination.

Recently, I noticed something interesting about myself.

As my hair gradually grew back, I could clearly see that my identification with the body was quietly returning too.

At the same time, my family had once again become anxious about getting me married. With all of this happening together, I ended up creating another little revolution. 🤫☺️ It came as quite a shock to everyone.

All the plans and expectations people had built around me fell apart when I got my hair cut very short again, almost like a boy's. While sitting in the salon, I could sense something inside resisting the decision, telling me not to "ruin" my hair.

Looking closely, it felt like that resistance was nothing but the ego's attachment to the body, wanting that identity to continue. Even then, I chose what felt right and natural to me.

After getting the haircut, I realized how much unnecessary time and energy I had been spending on long hair. I used to tie it up at least three times a day, and even then the heat was unbearable. Washing it always felt like a task that needed planning. Now everything feels much lighter, simpler, and more effortless.

The courage to question these patterns and make such choices comes from Acharya Ji's teachings. Deep gratitude to Acharya Ji, once again. Thank you so much. 🙏☺️

Original Post by: Amrita

(On the AP App)

This quote by AP is relatable at so many levels, don’t you think?

Have you ever noticed that strange feeling after achieving something you deeply wanted?
That prestigious job you spent years chasing, the person you thought was your dream partner, the perfect body you worked so hard for, the luxury car you always imagined driving, or the lifestyle you believed would finally make you feel complete.
For a while, there is excitement. The mind says, “Yesssss..Finally, this is it.” But then slowly, something changes. The excitement fades, the aftertaste becomes strangely bland, and there is this quiet realisation: “Oops, this didn’t last as long as I thought it would.”

The emptiness that was supposed to disappear somehow finds its way back. What if the issue was never the absence of the thing we desired, but the restlessness from which the desire was born???

We keep assuming that the next achievement, the next relationship, or the next possession will finally settle the mind. Yet the moment we arrive there, the mind casually starts searching for the next destination.

This is what the Bhagavad Gita points towards through “Nishkaam Karma”. Not rejecting action, but understanding the trap of expecting the outcome to permanently give us peace.

Would love to know your thoughts - How many “finally, I have made it” moments will it take before we notice that the finish line keeps moving? How many designer dresses, penthouse with swimming pool, a fleet of luxury cars?? What?? What next??