माझी सांगाती

आज आषाढ महिन्यातील देवशयनी एकादशीच्या दिवशी सुट्टी असल्यामुळे मी लवकर उठून स्नान आणि योगा केला. अंगणात सडा टाकून कोल्हम रांगोळी काढली. देवपूजा करून आम्ही फराळ बनवले. आईने माझ्या आवडीचा खुसखुशीत फराळी चिवडा घरीच बनवला होता. तो चिवडा खात असताना मला आईबद्दल काय वाटतं, हे आज मी तिला सांगितलं. माझी आई म्हणून नव्हे, तर एक व्यक्ती म्हणून तिचा स्वभाव प्रेमात पडावा असाच आहे. दुसऱ्याचा विचार करणारी, त्यांचं म्हणणं शांतपणे आणि एकचित्ताने ऐकून घेऊन मग योग्य तोच सल्ला देणारी. बोलण्यापेक्षा कृतीवर भर देणारी, आणि बोलायचंच असेल तर फार विचारपूर्वक शब्दांची निवड करणारी. दुसऱ्याची देहबोली, चेहऱ्यावरील हावभाव टिपून पुढील संवाद-सूत्र ठरवणारी. एखादा जर फार नकारात्मक दृष्टिकोन घेऊन आला असेल, तर आई त्याला सकारात्मक बाजू दाखवत असे. आईचं म्हणणं किंवा निष्कर्ष कधीच दुसऱ्यांच्या म्हणण्यावर अवलंबून नसते. तिचं विश्लेषणात्मक कौशल्य, म्हणजेच माहितीचं विश्लेषण करून निष्कर्ष काढण्याची आणि समस्या सोडवण्याची क्षमता, जबरदस्त आहे. त्यात संवेदनशीलता आणि अंतर्ज्ञानाची अचूक जोड तिला लाभली आहे. हे विश्लेषणात्मक कौशल्य आईला व्यवहारात, नोकरीत, व्यवसायात, नातेसंबंधात, आर्थिक, सामाजिक आणि इतर अनेक बाबतीत मदतीचं ठरतं. आईचं हे कौशल्य इतकं विकसित होण्यामागे लहानपणापासूनची वाचनाची आवड, तारुण्यात घरातील व्यवसायाचे अकाउंट्स सांभाळण्याची मिळालेली संधी आणि नोकरीतील क्वालिटी व ऑडिटचा बक्कळ अनुभव हे सर्व कारणीभूत आहेत. आयुष्यात आलेल्या अडचणी आणि काही कटू अनुभवांमुळे तिच्यात दूरदृष्टी आणि तार्किक विचारपद्धती रूजली गेली आहे. त्यामुळे एक व्यक्ती म्हणून तिचा सर्वांगीण विकास उत्कृष्टरीत्या झालेला आहे. याची मला जाणीव आहे आणि त्याचा अभिमानही वाटतो. जसे आपण आपल्या सहकाऱ्यांची आणि वरिष्ठांची कधीतरी प्रशंसा करतो, स्तुती करतो, कधी एखाद्या कार्यासाठी मदत व्हावी म्हणून विनंती करतो आणि गरज पडल्यास, काही चुकल्यास माफीही मागतो, तशीच प्रशंसा आपण आपल्या आई-वडिलांची, जोडीदारांची किंवा मुलांचीही कधी करून पहावी. ते आनंदी तर होतीलच, पण त्यांना पुढील आयुष्यासाठी सकारात्मक ऊर्जा मिळेल. आज मी मनातलं आईला सांगितल्यानंतर ती स्मितहसली. काहीच बोलली नाही, पण तिच्या डोळ्यांत, हावभावांत तिला झालेला आनंद आणि समाधान मला दिसलं आणि ते मौल्यवान वाटलं. आई जास्त बोलत नाही, पण तिच्या कृतीतून शिकायला तर नक्कीच मिळतं… आणि आधारही मिळतो. म्हणूनच आज वारकऱ्यांना पंढरपूरला विठ्ठलाचे दर्शन मिळाल्यावर जो विलक्षण आनंद होईल तशीच काहीशी अनुभूती मला मिळाली आहे.

जेथे जातो तेथे तू माझा सांगाती, चालविसी हाती धरुनिया,
चालो वाटे आम्ही तुझाची आधार, चालविसी भार सवे माझा,
बोलो जाता बरळ करीसी ते नीट, नेली लाज धीट केलों देवा,
तुका म्हणे आता खेळतो कौतूके, जालें तुझे सुख अंतर्बाही ।।

जय हरी विठ्ठल!

विठू माऊली… माऊली विठू ।।

Braids and Bread Rolls

                        My kaleidoscope!

My childhood was a kaleidoscope, and you were at the heart of every color and pattern.

From home to school and back home again, every moment was spent with you. You were not just my father, you were my teacher, my playmate, and my guide. We shared not just a house, but a classroom, a stage, and a life.

I still remember our little mimicry sessions, where we’d imitate relatives and burst into laughter. Your presence would light up every family gathering. The poems you wrote, the plays you directed, we, Aai and I, were always the first ones to watch, to smile, and to clap.

You never quite perfected it, but every morning you’d patiently braid my hair into plaits before school. That was love, steady, and full of effort. 

Our vacations were always together because we belonged to the same school, you as a teacher, I as your student. It was a bond few get to experience. The classroom never really ended, because the lessons continued at home, in the form of stories, values, and wisdom.

You invented so many indoor games, back in a time when there was no YouTube, no online tutorials, not even Google. I especially remember the matchbox game, you’d flip it and the goal was to make it land standing upright. It was simple, creative, and so much fun. You taught me chess too, not just the moves, but the strategy, the patience, and the power of thinking ahead.

And yes, it was you who lifted me up every single day so the wound I had from that accident could be cleaned and dressed. You stood beside me, hand in hand, every time the bandage was changed.

You introduced me to Marathi dramas, poetry recitations, films, and garden strolls. You wrote my speeches and prepared me for elocution contests.  Then on the final day, you would lovingly accept my wish of you not attending it because I felt too conscious. That was your quiet strength, very supportive without conditions.

You taught me how to manage money, how to deal with banks, and how to handle life. Our Maggi and bread roll sandwich parties, just you and me when Aai was at work, were tiny, fulfilled celebrations. The taste still lingers on my tongue.

Our evening walks weren’t just about exercise. They were about sharing stories, talking about life, and learning values I didn’t even realize I was absorbing.

I can’t remember a single conversation with you that didn’t leave a mark. You had this rare ability, either to make people laugh till their stomachs hurt or to say something so simple and heartfelt that it settled straight into the heart.

That last night, in the final hours before you left us forever, when I was sleeping near your bed, head resting close to you, you gently patted my head. That soft touch said it all: “I am here. I’ll always be here. Take care of yourself. And remember, your mother is an incredible and extraordinary woman.”

And so, you remain,

In every braid I make,

In every sandwich I toast,

In every poem I write,

In every truth I live.

And trust me the ‘the last pat remained’ in the form of a daughter’s memories of love, learning, and letting go.

मिशन टिकली

 ‘टिकली’ तर टिकली, ती ही टिकली! 

साधारण ३० वर्षांपूर्वीची ही गोष्टं आहे, माझ्या आयुष्यात जे घडले ते आज तुमच्या बरोबर शेयर करते. मी ज्या शाळेत होते ती एक ख्रिश्चन मिशनरी शाळा आहे, अत्यंत प्रतिष्ठित, आंतरराष्ट्रीय दर्जाचं शिक्षण तेव्हा देत असे आणि विद्यार्थ्यांचा सर्वांगीण विकास होण्यासाठी प्रयत्नं करत असे. तेव्हा फारशा शाळा नव्हत्याच मुळात, ही घराजवळ होती आणि माझे वडील ही ह्याच शाळेत मराठी भाषेचे शिक्षक होते, त्यामुळे सोयीची होती. पण शाळेतील काही नियम—देशाबाहेरील मिशनरी संस्थांकडून आलेले असावेत कदाचित— तदापी ते स्वीकारणे जरा आम्हाला कठीण जात असे. त्यापैकी एक नियम म्हणजे मुलींना कपाळावर टिकली लावण्यास मनाई! तशी ही शाळा सर्व धर्मांच्या आणि जातींच्या विद्यार्थ्यांसाठी खुली होती, त्यामुळे हा नियम विद्यार्थी आणि काही शिक्षकांना मान्य नव्हता. इतर काही मुली आणि मी एकत्र आलो, आम्हाला काही शिक्षकांचा पाठिंबा होताच, आणि एकत्रितपणे आम्ही या नियमाविरुद्ध तटस्थ उभं राहिलो. बंदी असूनही आम्ही कपाळावर रोज टिकली लावली, काहींनी गोलाकारात गंध लावला, अगदी निर्भयपणे. असे बरेच आठवडे गेलेत. मी तेव्हा लहान होते, त्यामुळे वरच्या एडमिनिस्ट्रेशन मधे नक्की काय घडलं ते अर्थातच मला काही उमगले नाही, किंबहुना चर्चा झाल्या असाव्यात, आणि अखेरीस ह्या नियमाचा फडशा पाडण्यात आला. त्यानंतरच्या काळात मात्र आम्हाला पुन्हा टिकली लावण्यास कोणीही मज्जाव केला नाही.

मी टिकलीला जशी चिकटले तशीच टिकलीही माझ्यावर टिकून राहिली. माझ्या आयुषात संकल्परूपी टिकली प्रतीकात्मक ठरली—असा संकल्प जो योग्य आहे आणि जो कुठल्याही परिस्थितीत पूर्णत्वास न्यायाचा.

मी दहावीत उत्तम गुणांनी उत्तीर्ण झाले, तेव्हा शाळा सुटली आणि पुढे मी गोखले एज्युकेशन सोसायटीच्या बिटको कॉलेजमध्ये विज्ञान शाखा निवडली. माझ्या शाळेतील बहुतेक मैत्रिणींनी कॉमर्स घेतलं होतं, त्यामुळे मी येथे एकटी पडले होते, एका वेगळ्याच वाटेवर. बारावी जेमतेम पास झाले आणि पुढे मी गोखले एज्युकेशन सोसायटीच्याच आरवायके सायन्स कॉलेज मधे बॅचलर ऑफ सायन्स च्या डिग्री साठी प्रवेश घेतला. कालांतराने मला मायक्रोबायोलॉजी विषय खूपच आवडू लागला, श्रेय अर्थात त्या काळातील शिक्षकांनाच आणि वाचनालयातील पुस्तकांना जाते. पदवी घेत असतानाच्या शेवटच्या वर्षी माझ्या वडिलांना एक असाध्य आजार झाला. त्याच काळात पुणे विद्यापीठात मायक्रोबायोलॉजी विभागात पदव्युत्तर शिक्षणासाठी पहिल्याच गुणवत्ता यादीत माझे नाव झळकले. मात्र घरच्यांचे म्हणणे होते की मी 'कमवा आणि शिका' योजनेअंतर्गत पुढील शिक्षण घ्यावे. माझ्या कुटुंबाचे आर्थिक गणित वडिलांच्या उपचारां भोवती फिरत असल्याकारणाने विस्कळीत झाले होते, त्यामुळे पुण्यात शिक्षण घेणं तेव्हा आव्हानात्मक होतं. ठरल्यानुसार, मी विद्यापीठाच्या 'कमवा आणि शिका' योजनेत नाव नोंदवलं. मास्टर्स इन मायक्रोबायोलॉजी च्या पहिल्या वर्षी मी परदेशी विद्यार्थ्यांच्या वैद्यकीय प्रमाणपत्र विभागात सहाय्यक म्हणून काम केलं. दुसऱ्या वर्षी मुलींच्या मेसमध्ये टोकन वाटपाचं काम केलं. मला तासाला १५ रुपये मिळत असे. या पैशात दोन वेळचं जेवण एडजस्ट झाले, पण नाश्ता एडजस्ट होऊ शकला नाही. रविवारी मेसमध्ये फीस्ट असल्याकारणाने रात्रीचं जेवण नसायचं, तेव्हा मी एक तर ५ रुपयांचा वडापाव किवा पार्ले बिस्किट खायची किंवा कधी कधी उपाशीच झोपत असे. मित्र-मैत्रिणींनो, मी काही UPSC किंवा MPSC ची तयारी करत नव्हते, म्हणून माझ्या आयुष्यातील या संघर्षांविषयी पुस्तक लिहिण्याचं कधीच मनात आलं नव्हतं. पण हाच संघर्ष पुढे Ph.D.च्या दरम्यानही सुरूच राहिला. डॉक्टर ऑफ फिलोसोफी साठी मी माझा आवडीचाच विषय निवडला, पण त्याला कुठला निधी किवा आर्थिक पाठबळ नव्हते आणि पितृछत्र हरपून परिस्थितीच्या झळांचा सामना करावा लागला. म्हणूनच मी, मांजरी-हडपसरमधील एका नामांकित कॉलेज मधे अभ्यागत प्राध्यापक म्हणून काम केलं आणि Ph.D. पूर्ण केली. पीएचडी मधील माझ्या नाविन्यपूर्ण संशोधनासाठी भारत सरकारच्या IAMM ने मला सुवर्ण पदक देऊन सन्मानित केले. आर्थिक कोंडी होतीच त्यामुळे मी लागलीच गोखले एजुकेशन सोसाइटीच्या कॉलेज मधे प्राध्यापिकेची भूमिका स्वीकारली आणि तेव्हापासून आजही वर्गातील माझ्या प्रत्येक तासाचे मी सिंहावलोकन करतेच व स्वतःत सुधारणाही घडून आणते. हीच निष्ठा आणि ह्या प्रामाणिकपणामुळे कोविड च्या काळात मी आणि माझ्या टीम ने एक लाख ४० हजार रुग्णांचे सैंपलच्या चाचण्या बिनचूक करून दिल्यात. २४ तासात रिपोर्टिंग झाल्याकारणाने, रुग्णांवर उपचारही पटकन होऊ शकले, अनेकांचे प्राण वाचलेत. मार्ग तसा अवघड होता पण त्यात अचूकता होती, “because harder right was always preferred over easier wrong”.

तरीही, आजूबाजूचे अनेक लोकं सहज आणि चुकीचे मार्ग निवडून आयुष्यात स्थिर आणि ‘यशस्वी’ झालेले मी पाहिलं, आजही पाहते आहे. पण या सगळ्या अनुभवांमधून मी एक महत्त्वाचा धडा घेतला- सहज-सोपं आयुष्य कुणालाही मिळू शकतं, पण अर्थपूर्ण आयुष्य धाडसातून उभं राहतं. मी जे निवडलं ते सोपं नव्हतं—पण ते मूल्याधिष्ठित होतं, स्वाभिमानाने भरलेलं होतं, आणि खऱ्या अर्थाने ते "माझं" होतं. यातून बरच शिकायला मिळाले, जे आता मला शिकवताना ही कामी येतय. 

कठीण वाट निवडल्यामुळे आयुष्यही सतत संघर्षांच्या आणि कठीण प्रसंगांच्या लाटांवर हेलकावे खात राहणार, हेही तितकेच खरे! कपाळावरच्या टिकलीचा संघर्षाचा प्रवास काही संपला नाही, न झुकता माझ्याबरोबर ती ही ठामपणे उभी आहे, माझ्या अस्थित्वेची जाणीव करून देणारी ती सहचर आहे.

Selfie to Soulfie

A Cultural Shift in Self-Portrayal

It’s been more than two decades since the word selfie was coined—originating in Australia—and in 2013, it was announced as the “Word of the Year” by the Oxford English Dictionary. Around the same time, selfie culture and solo travelling began rising in popularity, often going hand in hand. The smartphone industry quickly caught on, with front-facing camera technology advancing rapidly to meet the new demand. Suddenly, users were more interested in the clarity of the front camera than the back—marking a significant shift in user preferences.

Smartphone brands like Oppo gained immense popularity, particularly among women, for their selfie-optimized features. Samsung, OnePlus, and later, Nothing, co-evolved to cater to this camera-centric demand. As the tourism industry flourished, so did the race to build phones with high-quality cameras. As camera technology progressed, so did the way people shared their lives. People no longer just traveled — they documented their experiences, initially through platforms like Orkut and Facebook, where photos were shared as posts. Later, these moments found more dynamic expression through Instagram stories and, eventually, reels.

This transformation wasn’t just technological — it was psychological and cultural. Social media turned everyday users into the protagonists of their own narratives. Ordinary moments were dramatized and shared, often mimicking a celebrity lifestyle. Many did, in fact, gain fame through these platforms, especially those with the creativity and talent to capture attention in the form of likes and views.

The selfie era marked a shift from interpersonal interaction to self-presentation. For some, selfies became a tool for building confidence and self progress. For others, the pursuit turned obsessive, and in extreme cases, bordered on narcissism. As the trend matured, it diversified: mirror selfies, gym selfies, couple selfies, pet selfies, food selfies, content selfies — the list kept growing.

This hyper-focus on external appearance — on curating the perfect portrait for the world — gradually started taking its toll. With so much energy directed outward, there was little left for inward reflection. The soul, in majority cases, was left out of the frame.

As with any cultural wave, saturation eventually sets in. And now, the selfie seems to be giving way to a deeper, more meaningful alternative: the soulfie. Unlike the selfie, which fixates on how we look, the soulfie invites us to explore and express how we feel and who we truly are beneath the surface. It’s less about framing the face and more about revealing the soul.

Each one has a self so probably expressing oneself isn’t unnatural. Perhaps, the shift from selfie to soulfie marks the beginning of a more conscious, mindful era of self-expression — where how we see ourselves finally matters more than how we are seen. A soulfie is not just a photograph, but a pause — a moment to turn inward through practices like meditation, journaling, blogging or simply being present with oneself. It’s an invitation to reflect, to reconnect with one’s inner world, and to express not just the face, but the feeling. In this evolving culture, the soulfie becomes a mirror to the soul — quiet, authentic, and deeply human.

Harder right over the easier wrong!

Recently I happened to meet a school mate and we both remembered an incident, let me share with you. It began when I was a child who went to a convent (Christian) school, about 30 years ago. Back then, the number of schools was limited, and this one had an international reputation, since its head branch worked outside India. It offered high-quality education and ensured the multifaceted development of its students.

However, a few rules—originating from missionary sources outside the country—were hard to accept. One such rule forbade girls from wearing a tikli (a circular dot on the forehead). While the school welcomed students of all religions and castes, this rule was met with resistance—not just from students, but also from a few teachers.

Along with a few other girls and the support of some teachers, I stood united against this rule. Despite being told not to, we continued to wear the tikli fearlessly. I was too young to understand what happened at the administrative level, but a few days later, discussions must have taken place. The rule was revoked, and we were never stopped from wearing the tikli again.

That small, symbolic act became a lifelong metaphor for me. Because I stuck to the tikli, the tikli stayed stuck to me. It came to represent holding onto what is right—no matter the circumstance.

After school, I chose the science stream in Gokhale Education Society’s Bytco College for my 11th and 12th grades. I was an outlier—most of my school friends had chosen commerce. I was fascinated by microbiology and went on to graduate in the same subject from Gokhale Education Society’s RYK Science College.

In the final year of my graduation, my father was diagnosed with an incurable liver disorder. Around the same time, I was selected for postgraduate studies at the Department of Microbiology, Pune University, in the very first merit list. I was allowed to pursue it on one suggestion: that I enroll in the ‘Earn and Learn’ scheme. Most of our finances were directed towards my father’s treatment, so affording my education in Pune was nearly impossible.

Under the scheme, I worked to support myself. In the first year, I assisted in the medical certificate section for foreign students, health centre. In the second year, I distributed tokens in the girls' refectory. I earned ₹15 per hour. It was enough to afford two meals a day, but not breakfast. On Sundays, there was no dinner in the hostel—I would either have a ₹5 vada pav or a packet of Parle biscuits, or sometimes, nothing at all.

I wasn't preparing for UPSC or MPSC exams, so I never thought of writing a book about my struggles. But the struggles continued—into my PhD as well. I chose a research topic close to my heart, even though it received no funding. To survive, I worked as a visiting lecturer in Manjri, Hadapsar, and completed my PhD alongside. I then worked as a lecturer in Gokhale Education Society’s college. I maintained a habit of reviewing every lecture of mine and correcting the flaws or gaps in it. With this precision and honesty, we were also involved in testing samples for covid. In the pandemic we accurately analysed and reported 1 lakh 40 thousand samples in a government hospital. 

Throughout this journey, I’ve consistently attempted the harder right. And yet, I have often watched others settle comfortably—smartly, even—by choosing the easier wrong.

But here's what I’ve learned: comfort may come easily, but courage creates meaning. The road I chose wasn’t paved with ease or certainty, but with values, resilience, and self-respect. Every obstacle, every hungry night, every difficult decision stitched together the fabric of a life I can call my own—with pride, my skin! 

A few people don’t settle for easy wrongs—they choose the harder right. Life, in turn, tunes itself to a frequency of constant struggles and hardships for such individuals. They still don’t give up.

Because sometimes, sticking to your tikli is not about tradition—it's about identity, conviction, and the quiet strength to stand tall in a world that often asks you to bend.

Fidelity is our फ़ितरत!

 

While the world has been judging over the cover of the book, the confidence, presentation skill and the showbiz side of it, our biological inclination has always been about proofreading and rectification. How meticulously our body has the organised system of tissues and how every tissue has the smallest cellular unit in biochemical conversation with itself and each other. The energy and temperament of our individual cell represents the whole of us. Cell is clever and wise when it comes to storing and recruiting its energy for a cause. It invests the energy based on cautionary measures and maintenance. Just the way we work, save money and expend it, our cell invests and utilises the energy but wisely. We humans, have a schedule to follow each day and we plan calculated months without really reevaluating ourselves for the moment which is gone. Our cell, on the contrary, counter checks every minute activity going on inside it, it works, supervises and audits every second of a process happening. Our genetically inherited particle, DNA, doubles up by the process of replication under a proctor-enabled system. The coordinator is the polymerase enzyme with a team of small proteins assisting the crew to cook the original form of DNA, proofread it and correct it in case of any mistake. Fidelity is the goal during making of a DNA, transcribing it to RNA and finally translating it to proteins. Every step is monitored seamlessly and paused briskly incase of any abnormalities. Cell is always open to learn its mistakes, correct the minor and major errors, relax and move on, keeping a memory of it and not grudges. This is the basic फ़ितरत of every cell. It’s when we humans overthink, the toxic species and stress hormones accumulate in our body compelling our cells to quit its regular job temporarily and  divert lot of its energy to express the fox family genes meant to control the stress pathways. The continuous stress and hence the limited energy also probably holds a gun on the cell’s head and forces it to walkthrough the errors in regular processes ultimately causing lifestyle disorders and diseases like diabetes, hormonal imbalances, obesity and cancer. The key lies in the balancing act. Internal bathing, mind training, yogic practices, meditation and mental hygiene. Anti-stress decorum in our mind and inside every cell will represent as whole of you. If the cell is happy, the individual body is happy. The status of a cell represents the status of the entire body. 

Fewer is better

This was our 12th annual visit to Gharkul, a home for the disabled at Nasik, to celebrate birthday of our late buddy Sumit. This time coordination had been a bit difficult since kaku who is the incharge, was out of communication. She came to settle further plan for Gharkul girls in the time span between the 2 chemotherapy cycles. Her meeting was on and I was waiting downstairs. I chose not to disturb her and let her know my presence, and wait until the caretaker thought it was the best time to inform her. Meanwhile I gazed at the lovely collection of plants outdoor. A Gharkul girl was trained to attend the visitors and hence she would come to me to and fro, offering water, and tea and just a round with a friendly stare and would ask me to enter my name in the visitors book and would come again for something or the other. Some lady guards were cutting bamboos to make a bouquet of it. There were many handcrafted products kept for sale. I offered the donation on behalf of my friend circle and received a call from kaku. I went upstairs and greeted her for the new year by touching her feet. In a big auditorium, I and kaku sat next to each other on a sofa, munching on the pieces of apple. I had come just to be a listener. She told me about her chemo sessions and emphasised on the fact, how the true relations is the real estate of life. She continued that, it’s okay if you may not make new friends or relations but it is so so important to keep time and commitment for the pre-existing people or the inner circle, or line in life. It is so important to offer justice by giving time, care and attention to the handful of already existing relations in life. Maintenance, repair and revival of the older relations is always preferable over making new relations. Making new relations, promising the older relations and finally finding time for none will make our life miserable. Keep the energy invested and channelised for that tested and tried older bonds of life. In human relations, quantity will not go along with the quality. I understood her say and I continued as a listener. When silence starts speaking more than words, the conversation goes beyond speech and lots of feelings though unsaid are yet conveyed. With confidence in my heart and light in my eyes, I bid her bye as I logged out in the visitor’s book.