Reflections

 Reflections on a sweltering  evening 

What if it all works out exactly as we envisioned it would ?

What if the mountain ahead

is not there to block us,

but to show us how high we can actually climb?

What if the doubts that keep us awake at night 

are simply the shadows before the glorious dawn?

What if the challenges we face together

are not weights holding us back,

but tools shaping us into something wiser and  stronger?

What if every lesson we teach,

every quiet act of kindness,

is already building a future for us

brighter than we can ever  imagine?

And what if—

all along—

it was never about failing or winning,

but about showing up

and daring to believe that nothing was impossible?

The lost art of autograph books

 Smudges, Hearts, and Secrets: The Lost Art of Autograph books

Before emojis and Instagram, friendships were written in ink.

Remember the thrill of flipping open an autograph book and discovering your friends’ scribbles, doodles, and secret messages waiting inside? That little book was a time capsule—capturing laughter, secrets, and the drama of school life in ink.

If you are under 15, you may not even know what one is. No, it wasn’t Instagram’s ancestor or a prehistoric iPad. It was a small, brightly bound notebook that became a treasure chest of memories—filled with signatures, notes, and doodles that were ambitious, if not exactly artistic.

Autograph books go back centuries. They began in Europe, but by the time they reached Indian schools, they had morphed into something far more exciting—part diary, part confessional, part detective agency.

I had one in school. It carried messages from classmates, notes from teachers, and, to my pride, the signatures of a few Indian tennis stars I managed to corner after a match in Allahabad. No other famous names graced its pages, but at that age, even a slightly wobbly autograph from a sportsman felt like gold dust.

The real craze, though, was the “profile wall” at the back. Friends would fill in their name, date of birth, favourite colour, favourite dish, and best pastime. But the most eagerly awaited sections were always “Favourite Boy” and “Favourite Girl.” That was where the drama unfolded—less about hobbies and more about discovering who liked you, and whether you were anyone’s favourite. For a teenager, that was headline news.

I still have my autograph book somewhere. I haven’t seen it in years, but knowing it’s there brings back a flood of memories—faces, laughter, friendships—preserved forever in crooked handwriting and smudged ink.

When I began teaching, autograph books were still very much alive. Students would bring them to me, eager for a signature or a few words. I never wrote casually. I paused to think about what to say—a quote, a word of encouragement, something that might linger long after the ink had faded. Who knows? A sentence in an autograph book might have made someone smile, reflect, or even see life a little differently.

It was only around 2010 that autograph books began to fade, replaced by WhatsApp forwards, Instagram stories, and digital yearbooks. The messages became faster, flashier, and more forgettable. Yet the magic of those handwritten notes—smudges, crooked letters, little hearts in the corner—can never be replaced.

Do you still have an autograph book tucked away somewhere, waiting to be opened again?

The power of true inclusion

 No Child Left Behind: The Power of True Inclusion

Pulkit Chopra’s journey proves true inclusion empowers every child and inspires communities to leave no one behind.

In most parts of the world, children grow up playing the game of musical chairs. There are always fewer chairs than children, and each round, someone is excluded until only one remains—the “winner.” The game teaches a troubling lesson: for me to succeed, others must fail.

In Japan, however, the rules are different: if one child is left without a chair, everyone loses. Children learn to huddle and hold on so that all may find space. The lesson is clear: I succeed only if you succeed too.

This difference captures the UAE’s journey in inclusive education. Over the past decade, the nation has become a regional leader, with clear policies, trained inclusion specialists, and centres for students of determination. More than 20,000 students of determination are enrolled in mainstream schools, supported by teachers and Individual Education Plans. The message from leadership is clear: no child is left behind.

Our inclusive ethos has always been championed by Sunny Varkey, Founder and Chairman of GEMS Education, a strong advocate for embracing every child. At The Millennium School, we launched the Best Buddies programme, inspired by the global movement to foster friendships between students with and without disabilities. Led by passionate teachers and school leaders, our pupils were paired with children from the Manzil Centre for People with Disabilities and the Rashid Centre for People of Determination, engaging together in art, music, and sport. True bonds were built, and all children learnt empathy and acceptance.

Inclusion is about choices as much as programmes. I remember one such choice when the parents of a toddler, Pulkit Chopra, came seeking admission in kindergarten after being turned away by several schools. Our registrar, Sunila Shetty, strongly recommended we admit him, and we did without hesitation.

For twelve years, Pulkit thrived—singing in concerts, participating in sports, and even serving as a prefect from his wheelchair. His classmates rallied around him, his teachers adapted, and the school community grew in empathy. Pulkit himself was always cheerful, motivated, and inspirational—reminding us every day what courage can achieve.

Earlier this year, I attended his graduation from a top Dubai university. Today, Pulkit Chopra is a successful entrepreneur. His story proves that inclusion is not charity—it is empowerment, made possible by the UAE’s unwavering support for its people of determination.

Yet, there is more to do. Schools need greater awareness, training, resources, and support for families. Inclusion must move from compliance to conviction, from support to celebration of diversity.

The lesson is simple: we all win when no one is left standing.

Pulkit Chopra’s journey—from kindergarten in a wheelchair to successful entrepreneur—reminds us that inclusion empowers all and no child should ever be left behind.

THE PIPE ORGANS .

 

Echoes of Majesty: Pipe Organs at The Bishop’s School and Europe’s Old Churches

“I have always been spellbound by the deep, resonant chords of old pipe organs, which seem to lift the spirit and fill a church or cathedral with solemnity, history, and splendour unmatched by any other instrument.”

On a recent trip to Europe, I sought out these majestic instruments whenever possible. I climbed into the lofts to get closer to the gleaming pipes, the polished console, and occasionally, the hidden bellows. The lofts themselves were almost magical—shadows dancing on the walls, the scent of aged wood, and silent pipes looming overhead gave the space a ghostly aura, as if generations of players still lingered, waiting to strike the first solemn chord.

Being there reminded me vividly of home—St. Mary’s Church in Pune, with its venerable pipe organ, where Bishops boys once pumped the bellows during services. Though unseen and strenuous, the organ’s majestic voice filled the church with reverence and grandeur, echoing through stone and memory alike.

My fondest recollections belong to Founder’s Day at The Bishop’s School. Across twenty or so ceremonies, I watched the boys march down to St. Mary’s in spotless white uniforms and maroon blazers, shoes gleaming. The staff, too, were immaculately dressed. A few alumni were always present, and so were some ex-staff, making the occasion even more special and tinged with nostalgia. Inside the church, the atmosphere was hushed and expectant. Pews were adorned with flowers, and the altar bright with baskets of fruit—offerings from the boys to be given to the poor and needy.

In the week leading up to the service, Bishops boys pitched in wholeheartedly. There was no Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Sikh, or Jew—every boy worked side by side. They cut the grass, swept cobwebs, polished pews, and shined the famed brass eagle lectern. It was a yearly facelift for the church, and though it meant dodging a few tedious periods, the result was radiant—a church ready to welcome its children and guests alike.

Then came the grand entry: the Head Boy and House Captains walking with solemn dignity. As the service began, Mrs. Jolly—who everyone would remember—played the ancient organ. Though heard only once a year, the moment she touched the keys, the church seemed to breathe. The organ’s sound was majestic and moving—sometimes gentle, sometimes thunderous, always awe-inspiring.

The service was led by Mr. B.W. Roberts, the Principal, who preached the sermon, while Mr. Beaman oversaw nearly every aspect of the arrangements. The main hymn was always “O God, our help in ages past,” echoing through the stone walls, blending with the swell of the organ. Then came the Bishops’ School Song, sung with full voice by boys and staff alike, adding pride and belonging.

The organ’s voice is unlike any other. It can whisper softly or thunder like a storm, but always with majesty and reverence. Even now, whenever I hear a pipe organ, I am transported back to those Founder’s Days—the march, the flowers, the fruit baskets, the polishing, the laughter, the expectant hush—and above all, that magical sound.

How many of you carry fond memories of the Founder’s Service at Bishops, as I do?

Inspirational leadership

 Inspirational Leadership: The Power of Restraint

True leadership is measured not by how much you do, but by how much others can achieve because of you.

After 40 years in education, including becoming Headmaster of The Bishop’s School, Pune before I was 30, and now overseeing six large GEMS CBSE schools, I’ve discovered a truth most leadership guides seldom emphasise: restraint. Leadership is not about working longer hours, micromanaging, or issuing endless top-down instructions. It is about strategic action, decisive choices, and inspiring confidence.

In the UAE, we are fortunate to witness leadership at its finest. The country is what it is today because of visionary leaders whose no-nonsense approach, foresight, and unwavering commitment to excellence have transformed a region and inspired generations. Their example reminds us that true leaders empower others, make smart decisions, and create systems that allow talent to flourish.

Each of the six GEMS CBSE schools I oversee already has outstanding leaders, and my role is to mentor, support, and create conditions for their excellence to thrive. Leadership is about being friendly but professional—no back-slapping, no crossing the line, and always respectful. Familiarity breeds contempt, so integrity and accountability are non-negotiable.

Some of history’s most remarkable leaders, from Gandhi to Nelson Mandela, achieved extraordinary outcomes not by doing everything themselves, but by guiding, empowering, and creating space for others to act. Similarly, effective school leadership is less about occupying the spotlight and more about cultivating trust, initiative, and growth among staff and students.

A great leader lights the path, then steps aside and allows the team to walk it with confidence. Restraint is not weakness—it is mastery.

A lot of people tend to complicate Leadership- my mantra has always been- KEEP IT SIMPLE

Where are weddings made

 Four Decades of Marriage: From That Rainy Day in Allahabad

They say marriages are made in heaven. Others say on exotic beaches, in grand hotels, or even on a cruise. After 40 years of marriage, I’m still not sure where they’re made.

My wife and I had known each other since school, and by the time we tied the knot, we were both working at The Bishop’s School, Pune. That made planning easier — and mercifully spared us some of the usual family “input.” You know the drill — aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, and cousins all adding their two-penny bit.

Choosing who to invite was another challenge. Our families had lived in Allahabad for generations and seemed to know everyone in town. We had to make cuts — we certainly didn’t want a spectacle, and frankly, we couldn’t have afforded one.

We wanted a simple wedding — no glamour, no extravagance — just what we could manage with our modest savings. Clothes, rings, invites, favours — all were organized in Pune and carried to Allahabad.

The wedding Mass was at our majestic St. Joseph’s Cathedral, a building of soaring arches, stained-glass windows, and rich history. Fr. George D’Souza, a family friend, officiated, along with a few other priests connected to our families. The choir — nuns from St. Mary’s — sang like angels, though for a tense moment we all hoped they wouldn’t forget to show up and silently prayed the pageboy wouldn’t drop the rings.

The flower girls and bridesmaids were adorable, their smiles lighting up the cathedral more than the stained glass ever could. Seeing the little ones waltzing and twirling made me realize weddings are as much about their joy as ours. Bridesmaids, flower girls, and close friends completed the scene, adding warmth, love and laughter.

The reception was at the renowned Thornhill Club, just 25 meters from my home — perfect for last-minute preparations. The hall decorations were mostly homemade by talented friends and family, colourful, creative, and full of love. On the morning of the wedding, it poured. Torrential rain. We also wondered if we would get the roses for the bouquet — thankfully, we did.

We ensured the food was cooked by the best cooks available — after all, anyone who knows anything about cooking knows that food cooked on a wood fire has a taste like no other. The cooks reassured me, “Don’t worry, sahib. All will be well.” And it was. By evening, the shamiana looked splendid, the food was ready, and the hall was buzzing with laughter. Every guest ate heartily, and even the colony servants got their fill. There was so much food that the idea of throwing any away, as people do nowadays, never crossed our minds. And there it was — the beautiful and delicious five-tier wedding cake, baked and decorated in Allahabad, a true centerpiece admired by all, before it was devoured!

And then the music. The band, The Vibrations, led by Cyril Shepherd, Valentine Massey, and Tony Rodericks, was sensational. I often played with this band, so it was a no-brainer to join them at my own wedding — and before long, everyone was dancing to my tune!

Looking back, it was everything a wedding should be - simple, joyful, full of music, laughter, and togetherness. No drone cameras, choreographed sangeets, or designer outfits. Just a family and community celebrating, old friends catching up, and a couple starting life with God's blessings, rain, and rhythm.

When I look at the photos now, I can’t help but notice how skinny we were — I looked ridiculous! My daughters, never miss a chance to comment. Even now, when I see the children looking so adorable — I can’t help remembering that many of them, including both our mothers whose blessings we received, are no longer with us.

Two days after the big day, we were off to Pune to start married life. We piled into three slightly battered cycle rickshaws with friendly drivers, with our two large suitcases, a few extra bags, and not forgetting food and water for the journey - all of it jostling and bouncing along as the drivers cheerfully navigated the pot- holed roads — as was the norm in those days. Then it was off by train in sleeper class, truly, those were the days!

Weddings today are much grander, flashier and costlier, but marriages last not because of the money spent, venues or outfits — they last because of love, patience, trust, humour, forgiveness, and faith. And of course, a large dose of patience — after all, my wife has tolerated me for 40 years, proof enough that miracles still happen!

And if you can add a little music, dancing, and laughter along the way — well, that’s the rhythm that keeps it alive for a lifetime.

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.