Rethinking Success

 “Rethinking Success: Why Balance Matters More Than Being First”

Fast Lane Childhood

Think back to when you were growing up. You were probably told to speak up, lead from the front, never lag behind, get to the top—or be first—or be forgotten. It started with your parents, who seemed to have an instinctive radar for ambition, quickly picked up by teachers, and soon the whole extended family joined in: uncles, aunts, grandparents—everyone had advice, everyone had expectations. And if you were an Indian child, your parents would announce to anyone who would listen how brilliantly you spoke, wrote, scored, or played chess. You didn’t even need to be in the room—your brilliance had a life of its own.

Mental Health and Pressure

This obsession with speed has crept into education too. We celebrate toppers and gold medallists—but what about the rest? Nearly one in seven adolescents worldwide struggles with mental health issues, often worsened by academic and social pressures. We speak too often of winners, and too rarely of worth.

“Mental health” and “wellbeing” are now fashionable buzzwords. But how much has really changed? Conferences and wellness committees are easy; reducing the pressure that makes them necessary is harder. What we need is a societal awakening—a choice to value balance as much as brilliance, fulfilment as much as first place.

Patience Pays

But the older I get, the more I realise that history often belongs to those who took their time. Mandela waited 27 years behind prison walls and emerged with the patience to reconcile, not retaliate. Gandhi moved at the pace of the slowest villager, yet shook the foundations of an empire. Lincoln was accused of being too slow, yet his careful choices preserved a fragile union.

Rushing Leaders

Compare that with some present-day leaders—again, no names needed. Always rushing from summit to summit, posing for photos, issuing urgent declarations that expire before lunch, and tweeting policies into existence before breakfast. They seem to equate motion with progress. In reality, they leave behind press releases, hashtags, and baffled citizens wondering what was actually achieved.

Awards and Trophies

Awards are everywhere—The Most Inspiring Leader, Visionary Extraordinaire, and so on. Many are little more than business models: pay, nominate yourself, and presto—a certificate, shield, or shiny cup. I have never received one myself, but that is not the point. Does every child or adult really need a trophy? When everyone is rewarded, rewards lose their meaning. Some are genuinely well-deserved, but many exist simply to glitter on a shelf. Perhaps it is time to rethink what we are truly rewarding—and why.

Redefining Success

I was never a topper. Rarely in front, rarely leading the pack. Yet today, I consider myself successful—not because of medals, but because I have found purpose, balance, and a life I value. Success, I have learned, is not always about being first; it is about being fulfilled.

Drive and ambition matter. But so does perspective. Balance. Wellbeing.

The tortoise, after all, did not hurry—but it reached the finish line just the same.

So the real question for all of us—educators, leaders, parents, and young people alike—is this: in our desperate race to be first, are we forgetting what it really means to be successful? Because history rarely remembers who ran fastest. It remembers who mattered.

Are Our Schools Ready for AI

Excitement alone won’t improve learning — preparation and purpose will.

AI is coming to schools, but the real challenge is turning its potential into meaningful impact for teachers and students.

Every school wants in, but one crucial question is often overlooked: are our teachers truly ready? You cannot rely on a single passionate AI enthusiast and hope everything will work out. Teachers need proper training, ongoing support, and a clear understanding of how AI tools can enhance their teaching. Without this, even the most sophisticated software risks being underused.

The UAE, to its credit, is not merely following this global tide — it is leading it. The UAE AI Strategy 2031 is bold: to build a knowledge-based, innovation-driven society where AI improves quality of life and ensures competitiveness. Education sits at the heart of this vision.

Yet in schools, it is easy to mistake excitement for progress. Glossy announcements and flashy tools can overshadow the harder work of embedding technology in ways that truly matter.

AI in education should focus on three things — improving learning outcomes, supporting teacher effectiveness, and enabling smarter leadership decisions. When software tracks a student’s progress and pinpoints where support is needed, that’s powerful. When teachers use AI insights to tailor lessons instead of guessing, that’s progress. When school leaders make resource decisions based on data, that’s transformation. The real gain is giving teachers sharper insights so they can do what they do best: teach.

Chasing expensive showpieces is a distraction. What works is simpler: small, well-planned pilots, comprehensive teacher training, and clear feedback to measure real impact. Schools that succeed will treat AI as an enabler in the background, quietly supporting better teaching and learning.

Many UAE schools recognised this early. Leading operators have made AI a priority, and we are seeing encouraging steps in the right direction. But big questions remain: How much AI is enough? What happens next? Where will AI in classrooms realistically be five years from now? And how will we equip teachers to use these tools effectively?

These are not questions for policymakers alone. Parents need to understand how AI is shaping their children’s education. Teachers must learn to use these tools while preserving the human connection that defines great teaching. School leaders must balance innovation with practical wisdom, ensuring technology serves real learning goals.

The UAE has an advantage. Regulators are ahead of the curve, supporting innovation while insisting on safety, ethics, and accountability. This balance of ambition with careful guidance sets the stage for AI in education to grow in meaningful, sustainable ways.

AI in schools will succeed when we focus on meaningful change rather than chasing shiny tools. The key questions remain: Are our teachers ready? Are students learning better? Are we using technology wisely to enhance education? It’s time to equip teachers, support students, and make AI truly count in classrooms.

Society must not forget it's Teachers

 Society must not forget it's TEACHERS 

In a world of rapid change and information overload, teachers remain the true architects of learning, innovation, and social progress.

Looking back on my school years in Allahabad, I remember a few teachers who left a lasting mark—not just for the lessons they taught, but for the way they taught them. Some were strict, disciplined, and passionate about ensuring no pupil was left behind, while others were cheerful, approachable, and inspiring in their own gentle way. Later, as a young teacher at The Bishop’s School, Pune, I observed senior colleagues who guided and mentored me, showing me both what to do and what not to do in the classroom. Those early experiences shaped my understanding of teaching: it is as much about character, empathy, and patience as it is about knowledge.

Over the past 25 years in the UAE with GEMS Education, one of the largest providers of private schooling in the region, I have seen firsthand how high the standards of education are here. Parents have real choices and demand the best for their children, regulators like KHDA, ADEK, and SPEA continuously raise the bar, and students are advanced, aware, well-read, and well-traveled. The UAE is a country that moves education forward at remarkable speed, making it a vibrant place for learning.

Yet the challenges for teachers remain immense. Today’s educators are not just conveyors of facts—they must be role models, mentors, counselors, administrators, tech experts, and sometimes even part-time parents. They need to adapt to each student’s unique learning style, nurture curiosity, and prepare learners to think critically, creatively, and independently. The classroom is no longer a one-way street of rote learning; it is a space for collaboration, exploration, and innovation.

While I often look back fondly on the teachers who influenced me, I also recognize a worrying trend: fewer young people seem eager to take up teaching as a profession. In countries like Finland, Singapore, and South Korea, teachers are highly respected and among the best-paid professionals, and this reflects in the quality of education and societal progress. We need a rethink and reform in how we value teaching. Teachers must be restored to their rightful place as gurus—the guides who shape not just individual students but the very future of society.

It is not rocket science. If we want a society capable of innovation, compassion, and real change, we need to go back to the grass roots. We must understand why respect for teaching has diminished and why fewer young people aspire to it. Teachers are the foundation of every other profession; engineers, doctors, scientists, and artists all begin as students under their guidance. Without investing in teachers—through respect, resources, and incentives—we risk eroding the very fabric of progress.

Effective teachers are fluid, adaptive, and deeply human. They inspire curiosity, encourage questions, and nurture resilience. And while technology can enhance learning, it cannot replace the subtle art of guidance, encouragement, and mentorship that a teacher provides. Perhaps the only formula society really needs is simple: value teachers, invest in them, and trust them to mold the future.

After all, as any good teacher will tell you—with a twinkle in their eye—teaching is the only profession where you can shape the world without ever leaving the classroom.

Libraries

 Dusty Shelves, Bright Minds: My Life Among Libraries

Some say libraries are dying; I say they’re just getting quieter, while slyly plotting their comeback! 

My earliest memory of a library goes back to St Joseph’s, Allahabad – I was probably in Grade 6. There was a proper, central library, and within it, two or three cupboards were allocated to each grade. A serious looking Librarian sat in one corner. From those shelves, I devoured every Enid Blyton book I could find. There was also a thrilling series called Biggles, which convinced me I might one day fly secret missions over enemy territory. And of course, Secret Seven must take some responsibility for several earnest, if slightly misguided, crime-fighting adventures in the school corridors.

Then came The Boy’s High school – also in Allahabad - Grade 8 onwards, with its dusty, upstairs library. It was a large room but rather run down and forgotten … though more mischief happened there than serious reading. Books fell, paper planes soared, fights broke out and football was played. 

I then moved to teach in The Bishop’s School, Pune.  The library there offered a large, bright, airy sanctuary. Staff and boys flocked to the library to read the newspapers and books, plan which movie to see (and the staff to work out details and odds for the afternoon Horse racing on the Pune racecourse! Getting a look in on weekends was a difficult proposition. 

 I remember less about the novels and far more about the encyclopedias: Encyclopedia Britannica, World Book Encyclopedia, and The New Book of Knowledge. I spent hours poring over them, researching Shakespeare’s plays and poems which I taught to Grade nine and ten, long before Google made it effortless. Boys were smart and I was always determined to be one step ahead. 

Then Google arrived. Slowly, quietly, it changed everything. Over the past decade, library usage has dropped by roughly a third, as instant access to information replaced the ritual of wandering shelves. 

Yet, libraries are far from obsolete. Many people still maintain home libraries, surrounding themselves with books for comfort, curiosity, and the joy of discovery.

Reading remains one of the most wonderful, thought slightly underestimated pastimes. It entertains, sharpens the mind, broadens perspectives, and keeps one alert and thoughtful. 

Will libraries ever be fully replaced? I doubt it. They are more than just repositories of information; they are spaces that nurture imagination, cultivate wisdom, and quietly demand focus in a noisy world. There is something sacred about a good Library, which is indescribable.  

For those of us who grew up among Blyton’s, Biggles, and dusty encyclopedias, libraries will always remain sacred places – cathedrals of thought, knowledge, and yes, a little mischievous fun too.

 ______Why dressing well matters __________________________________

"Ragamuffins Beware: Why Dressing Well Still Matters"

As a young lad growing up in Allahabad, I vividly remember my mother and aunt being almost military in their expectations of how we dressed— “we” meaning myself and my two girl cousins, who were younger than me but nevertheless inspected with equal ferocity. Frocks and shirts were checked like items on a parade: socks spotless, shoes polished to mirror-finish, ribbons perfectly aligned, collars lying flat—rebellion was not an option. It was never about fashion or showing off (we couldn’t afford that anyway); it was about being clean, neat, and appropriate. Heaven help the child who turned up looking like they’d been hauled out of the dirty clothes basket or dragged headfirst from the hedge!

Looking back, most young boys and girls in Allahabad looked the part: spruced up for church, weddings, and dances; tidy for school.

Fast forward to today and I’m genuinely baffled by what passes for fashion. Trousers come pre-destroyed, underwear on display , T-shirts sport more holes than Swiss cheese, and outfits seem deliberately chosen from the “lost property” bin. Ironically, the richer the person, the more they try to look like they haven’t seen a washing machine in months. Some even pay extra for the “worn-out beggar” look!

Just last evening, I watched a re-run of a popular TV singing programme. Judges and finalists sparkled in gowns and suits; the audience looked ready for a royal gala. And then there was Simon Cowell- the head honcho —wandering around in scruffy jeans and a T-shirt, looking like he’d popped out for bread and eggs. Not cool. Disrespectful, even, to everyone else who had made the effort.

As a schoolmaster, I always ensured I looked clean, neat, and properly dressed—and expected the same from my pupils. Even today, when I recruit staff, it’s obvious who has made the effort. It’s not about flashy designer wear; it’s about being tidy, appropriate, and polished. That effort counts. It shows respect, attention to detail, and good manners—qualities parents should teach their children early.

Unfortunately, many schools today slide into the “couldn’t care less” look. Boys with long, unkempt hair or unshaven faces, girls sporting multiple earrings or nose studs, socks never seen… students wandering about like they’ve just rolled out of bed or are headed to a pop concert. Clean, neat, respectful dress may seem old-fashioned—but it matters. It shows self-respect, respect for others, and readiness to step confidently into the world. After all, dress does maketh the man (and woman).

And yes, a polished shoe says far more than a designer logo ever will.

Not all chains are forged by force

 “Not all chains are forged by force — some are passed down with love. It’s time to break them.”

Patriarchy doesn’t always wear a man’s face. Often, it speaks in a woman’s voice — gentle, familiar, trusted. It’s the mother who scolds her daughter for wanting too much education or independence. 

The boss who makes sure she is the only woman at the top, quietly shutting out others. The aunt who warns a girl to sit “properly” lest men stare.

When women enforce patriarchy, it rarely looks like oppression. Instead, it wears the cloak of tradition, care, and concern. And that’s what makes it so powerful, so deeply embedded in our lives.

The painful reality is that patriarchy doesn’t survive solely because men uphold it. It thrives because women, often unknowingly, pass down its rules—wrapped in culture, honor, and the hope of protecting the next generation. This cycle tells young girls how to behave, what is “appropriate,” and what dreams are too big to chase.

Yes, progress has been made — more girls attend universities, more women lead businesses, and more voices demand equality. But these successes touch only a small fraction of the world. For many, the story remains unchanged. Girls are still told their brothers’ education matters more. Women are pressured to fit into narrow roles, silenced if they speak too loudly or reach too high.

This isn’t just a story of individual oppression; it’s a systemic pattern passed down like an heirloom, polished with warnings of safety, respectability, and tradition. And when women uphold these customs, it doesn’t feel like violence—it feels like love, discipline, or respect.

If change is to come, it must begin with women reclaiming their power to challenge these inherited norms. It starts with the mother who tells her daughter that her dreams are valid and worth fighting for. The teacher who encourages girls to speak up and lead. The leader who opens the door wider for other women to step through.

But this is not a fight for women alone. Men must stand as allies—not as rescuers, but as partners. They need to question long-held beliefs, support women’s ambitions, and reject silence that condones injustice. The journey toward equality demands courage from all of us.

This is not about rejecting every tradition. It’s about discerning which customs uplift us and which confine us in outdated roles. Our history has value, but it must never become a cage.

True change requires reflection, bravery, and a willingness to rewrite the stories we tell ourselves and each other. It means asking uncomfortable questions: Are we teaching our daughters to be small so our sons can feel big? Are we honoring culture, or just repeating patterns of control?

Let us remember, obedience is not a virtue when it suppresses voices. Tradition is not sacred when it stifles growth. 

The time has come to break these chains—chains not forged only by force, but passed down in love and fear.

Allopath Homeopath or Naturopath

 ARE YOU A HOMEOPATH ,NATUROPATH  OR ALLOPATH FOLLOWER ? 

I’ve been an allopathic chap all my life. From my childhood in Allahabad to now, it’s been Crocin, Calpol, Amoxicillin, Azithromycin, Ciprofloxacin, and the occasional Vicks on the chest for good measure. No Tulsi leaves boiled with pepper, turmeric, honey, and ginger—some magical concoction said to cure everything from grey hair to pneumonia, measles, and possibly even the mumps. My aunt once gave me a syrup made of garlic, onion juice, jaggery, cloves, and a pinch of pepper —claimed it would build immunity- it did none of that. I always had a cold and a cough for as long as I can remember!

Back in Allahabad, I dreaded visits to the family doctor. I’d go in with tonsillitis or a sore throat and, without fail, he’d say, “You’ll need an injection.” It was like a horror film. No small talk, just a needle. I’d sit there with fake bravery, till it was over.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a hypochondriac. I don’t invent symptoms. I just take care of myself. A few multivitamins, sensible eating (when I’m in the mood), and an old-fashioned belief in real medicine.

Anyway, two years ago, I had something vague—nothing serious—and a few well-meaning friends said, “Try homeopathy.” And for reasons I can’t explain, I did. I walked in, came out with sugar pills, and to my surprise… they worked. Or I got better despite them. 

The pills are those tiny white globules that taste like absolutely nothing. You’re told to take five - three times a day. You pour ten into your hand, pop them all in. No harm. It’s not like overdosing on Crocin.

Now I’ve got something else—again, not serious. No heart, no kidneys, no liver (whatever those organs do—I was never good at Biology). So, I thought - let me go back to the same homeopath. One visit, collect the meds, quietly vanish.

But no. Within 30 minutes, just like last time, I had nodded dutifully and paid AED 2,000 for a six-month course. Something about the clinic makes me lose all resistance. Scented candles? Hypnosis? Who knows.

The questions were the same as last time- probing and personal :

“Name?”

“Age?”

“Do you feel hot or cold?”

Depends on the weather. 

“Spicy or bland food?”

I said I like tasty food. That seemed to irritate her.

“Are you social or do you prefer to be alone?”

I said I like both

“Do you like your job?”

Yes. Otherwise, I’d have retired by now. I tried to infuse some humour into the conversation! 

“Relationship with your wife?”

I said, “Fine, thank you.” She smiled! 

“Do you get irritated easily?”

No (she asked me this thrice- maybe I have the look!) 

“How many children?”

Two. Now grown. Plus, two grandchildren who trouble me endlessly 

She also threw in a few others:

• “Do you cry during emotional movies?”

• “Do thunderstorms make you anxious?”

• “Do you prefer trains or flights?”

I nodded wisely at all of them, not sure what part they played in the diagnosis. 

She glanced at her computer, repeated a few questions—either to trap me or because she couldn’t hear properly. Which is funny, because I had come to her for an ear problem. Maybe we both need treatment.

I left with two containers and a tiny vial while breathing a sigh of relief of having survived the interrogation. 

My next appointment was last week. I missed it. I wasn’t ready to face the music—especially the “Did you take your medication regularly?” part. (Spoiler: I didn’t.)

I’m going today. Alone. I dare not take my wife. What if the doctor asks:

• “Does he snore like a tractor?”

• “Does he argue with you? 

My wife will gleefully say yes, and I’ll be given a one-year course, have to pay more  and may also get a referral to a counsellor- and they are frightfully costly .

Anyway, fingers crossed. I’m going in. Wish me luck. 

– Still not cured, but definitely confused

Anglo-Indians of Allahabad

ALLAHABAD CIVIL LINES  NOSTALGIC MEMORIES

The Bishop's School Alumni Association

DrPramod Tripathi