Idhar Udhar Ki Baat

“Dadaji, do you just not get technology?” my grandson Goldie asked, rolling his eyes as I handed him the Wi-Fi router to reset. I chuckled. I remembered wearing that exact same expression decades ago, when my own father asked me to light the Petromax lamp after failing for the fourth time. “Goldie,” I said, “the technological transitions I’ve witnessed would make your head spin.” “Really? Tell me,” he said, sitting back, the router momentarily forgotten. “In my childhood, walking was the primary mode of transport. For longer distances, we relied on bullock carts or horse carts. I still remember the day our village got its first bus service—it felt like royalty had arrived. Trains were marvels too, though the steam engines left us covered in soot and coal dust. We carried our own bedding for journeys that lasted days. Today, a twenty-four-hour journey takes eight hours on the Vande Bharat, and you arrive fresh enough to walk straight into an interview.” I smiled at another...

  "It was sad to learn that you lost your property during the 1984 riots," I said as I sat down next to the elderly doctor. She affectionately offered me a delicious matthi . It had the perfect balance of crunch and softness, melting in my mouth with a sip of tea. "Our house was burnt to the ground in the '84 riots," Dr. Trilochan Bhatia said calmly. "That must have been devastating?" "Yes, it pinched a lot," she replied. "But then you find new motivation to work. As you can see, by the grace of God, we have rebuilt it even better than before. Bas, Waheguru da shukr hai —we are indebted to God." "Indebted to God?" I couldn’t help my skeptical reaction. "At least Waheguru saved our lives," she said. "All our family members were abroad at the time. That is His mercy." "Did the government pay any compensation?" "Yes, a pittance. We decided to give it to charity. God has given...