philosophy and science quest

If you could permanently ban a word from general usage, which one would it be? Why?

If I had to choose one word to permanently remove from human language, it would be:
“Hate”
Not disagreement.
Not criticism.
Not justice.

But hate — the word that turns difference into division and emotion into destruction.
Why this word?
Because “hate” does not simply describe a feeling.
It often justifies harm.
When we say “I disagree,” we leave room for dialogue.
When we say “I oppose,” we leave room for reason.
But when we say “I hate,” we often close the door to understanding.
Hate reduces a human being to a label.
It transforms fear into hostility.
It allows anger to become identity.
For humanity, the cost of this word has been enormous — wars, discrimination, cruelty, and silent inner bitterness.
What would happen if it disappeared?
People would still feel anger.
People would still feel hurt.
But they would need to express those feelings more consciously.
Instead of “I hate you,” perhaps:
“I am deeply hurt.”
“I feel threatened.”
“I strongly disagree.”
“I cannot accept this.”
Language shapes thought.
Thought shapes action.
Action shapes destiny.
Removing “hate” would not remove conflict — but it might soften its edges.
But let me turn this gently toward you.
You have spent much of your writing journey exploring unity — Tao, consciousness, science, surrender, evolution of awareness.
If you were to remove one word from human vocabulary — which one would you choose?
And why?

What advice would you give to your teenage self?

1. Do not hurry to become someone.
You are not late. You are not behind. Life is not a race track; it is a field. Grow at your own pace. The anxiety to “achieve early” will only steal the joy of learning deeply.
2. Protect your curiosity more than your reputation.
People will judge. Let them. What matters is whether you are still asking real questions. Curiosity is more valuable than popularity.
3. Learn how to sit alone without distraction.
Silence is not emptiness; it is strength. If you can sit quietly with your own thoughts, you will not be easily manipulated by noise, trends, or crowds.
4. Failure is information, not identity.
Marks, rejections, mistakes — they are feedback. They are not a verdict on who you are.
5. Your body is not separate from your mind.
Sleep well. Move daily. Eat consciously. Mental clarity begins with physical discipline.
6. Choose long-term growth over short-term validation.
Social approval fades. Skill remains. Depth remains. Character remains.
7. Be kinder to your parents.
One day you will understand their fear was love, even if imperfectly expressed.
8. Read more than you scroll.
Books shape thinking. Scrolling fragments it.
9. You don’t need to impress everyone.
Find 2–3 people who value truth and growth. That is enough.
10. Your inner voice is quieter than the world — but wiser.
Listen to it.
And finally:
Do not try to “be great.”
Try to be honest.
Greatness quietly follows honesty.

Share one of the best gifts you’ve ever received.

It was trust.

There was a time in my life when I doubted myself deeply — my decisions, my direction, even my worth. In that phase, someone close to me looked at me with complete confidence and said, “I believe in you. Even if you don’t see it yet.” They did not give me money, advice, or solutions. They gave me belief.

That simple sentence became a turning point.

It felt like someone had handed me a mirror — not to show my fears, but to show my strength. It was a quiet gift, invisible to others, yet powerful enough to change the way I walked, spoke, and thought about my future.

Material gifts fade, break, or are forgotten. But the gift of faith from another human being stays alive. It becomes part of you. It grows with you.

And perhaps that is the most beautiful kind of gift — one that does not sit on a shelf, but lives in the heart.

Are you patriotic? What does being patriotic mean to you?

Just as the body has many organs, humanity has many nations.
Love for one’s country should not create hatred for another.

The highest patriotism expands into universal humanism.

Patriotism is disciplined love expressed through responsible action for the collective good.

Not just saying “I love my country,” but asking:
Am I contributing?
Am I honest in my work?
Am I improving society in small ways?

I am patriotic in a real sence covering above aspect to serve my motherland.

What were your parents doing at your age?

My father : He was a teacher devoted to education until the age of 80 — was not merely earning a livelihood. He was shaping minds. That kind of lifelong commitment reflects a deep belief that knowledge is sacred.
My mother   : she wasa yoga and meditation guide — living 4–5 hours daily in meditation, and doing it with family, created a home where silence itself must have felt alive. That is rare.

If you had the power to change one law, what would it be and why?

If I had the power to change one law, I would change the law that allows education to remain unequal.

I would make it a constitutional guarantee that every child — regardless of wealth, caste, religion, or geography — receives the same quality of education. Not just access to school, but access to excellent teachers, libraries, laboratories, and digital resources.

Why this law?

Because education quietly shapes every other law in society.

If education is unequal:

• Opportunity becomes unequal.
• Confidence becomes unequal.
• Voice becomes unequal.

A child born in a village school should have the same intellectual horizon as a child in a metropolitan private institution. Talent is universal; opportunity is not.

As someone whose curiosity has always gone beyond the classroom — spending time in libraries, exploring science and economics beyond formal study — I know that real growth happens when knowledge is not restricted. Education should not depend on family income; it should depend only on a child’s willingness to learn.

If I could change one law, it would be this: Equal quality education as a fundamental, enforceable right — not a privilege.

Because when education becomes equal, society becomes fairer, creativity becomes wider, and humanity becomes wiser.

Write about your dream home.

My dream home is not built of bricks, wood, or marble. It does not depend on location, climate, or luxury. My dream home is a feeling — a quiet inner space where I can simply be.
It is the warmth of understanding without explanation.
It is the silence where no performance is required.
It is the comfort of being accepted without condition.
In this home, there is no noise of comparison, no pressure of achievement, no fear of judgment. There is only presence. A presence that listens. A presence that allows me to rest my thoughts.
My dream home is where curiosity is welcomed — where questions are not hurried, and wonder is not dismissed. It is where books are companions, ideas are free to grow, and silence is not emptiness but nourishment.
It is not confined to walls. Sometimes it appears in a library corner. Sometimes in early morning sunlight. Sometimes in a meaningful conversation. Sometimes in deep solitude.
This home travels with me.
When my mind is peaceful, I am home.
When my heart is open, I am home.
When I am aligned with truth, I am home.
A physical house may shelter the body.
But a true home shelters the soul.
And perhaps the greatest discovery in life is this:
We are not searching for a house.
We are searching for that inner space where we feel whole.
That is my dream home — not a destination, but a state of being.

Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?

And it feels kind of natural rather than sad.
I’ve mostly outgrown mindless time-fillers. Things like endlessly scrolling social media, chasing likes, or watching random TV just to kill time used to feel relaxing. Now they feel noisy. I notice my mind asking, “Is this adding anything, or just passing minutes?” That question alone quietly killed my interest.

I’ve also lost interest in doing things just to fit in—following trends, debates, or opinions because everyone else was excited about them. Earlier, novelty mattered more. Over time, meaning started to matter more than momentum. I still enjoy learning and exploring, but only when it connects to understanding life, consciousness, or inner clarity.
What replaced those old hobbies wasn’t exactly new hobbies, but a deeper way of engaging—reading slowly, thinking deeply, writing reflectively, sitting in silence, observing people and patterns. Less stimulation, more substance.
It doesn’t feel like loss.
It feels like pruning—making space for what actually resonates now.

What’s your favorite candy?

Since childhood, I have liked Poppins and Gems—those small, colourful button-shaped candies. Their bright colours always attracted me, and their sweet taste made every moment joyful.
I used to distribute them among my friends, which made eating them even more enjoyable. Sharing those little candies brought smiles, laughter, and simple happiness. Even today, their taste reminds me of those carefree childhood days.

Do you need a break? From what?

No. I don’t need a break from life—I need a break from noise.
Not from work, not from responsibility, not from thinking.
I need a pause from unnecessary rush, from borrowed opinions, from constant reacting.
A break where I can return to myself—quiet, clear, and whole.
Because when I’m aligned with meaning, even effort feels like rest.