Rao Bahadur: A Thought-Provoking Film >>>>> That Could Have Been Far More Engaging : Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

 Rao Bahadur: A Thought-Provoking Film

That Could Have Been Far More Engaging

Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao (July 5, 2026)

Yesterday (July 4, 2026), I watched Rao Bahadur with my family. It is an atypical, psychologically driven film focused on a core premise: that a child's biological lineage or adoption status is ultimately inconsequential to their success or failure in life. While some films entertain and others educate, this Film belongs to that rare category that provokes deep introspection. Driven more by ideas than events, the film delivers a meaningful message. It subtly questions society's obsession with bloodlines, heredity, and family prestige, proving that a person’s worth is determined by character, love, and upbringing rather than DNA.

This noble philosophy gives the film macro-level depth and relevance. However, a gap often exists between a director's (perhaps Producers’ too) vision and the audience's reception. While the ultimate destination and core idea of Director Venkatesh Maha, Producers Anurag Reddy and Sharath Chandra (Founders of Hyderabad-based digital entertainment and pop culture ‘Chai Bisket’), and presenter Mahesh Babu are admirable, it is intermittently erratic and off-track. The zigzag storytelling makes the actual viewing experience less satisfying than should have been.

The screenplay begins with considerable intrigue, introducing Satya Dev as Ramappa Rao Bahadur as a man burdened by an unusual psychological disturbance. While the audience is naturally drawn to the reasons behind his condition, the mystery is prolonged unnecessarily. Instead of gradually revealing emotional layers to help viewers connect with the protagonist, the film spends too much time creating confusion. Curiosity alone cannot sustain an audience indefinitely, instead, emotional investment should have accompanied the mystery much earlier.

A major distraction is the repeated appearance of a dead boy emerging from a mirror. While symbolic imagery has a rightful place in psychological cinema, this particular device borders on the absurd. It neither frightens nor enlightens, momentarily disconnecting the audience from the story’s otherwise grounded emotional world. A more realistic psychological manifestation would have communicated this inner conflict far more effectively. As the story progresses, the screenplay repeatedly returns to the question of lineage and inherited identity.

The underlying philosophy is powerful, but the narrative often chooses explanation over experience. Instead of allowing the audience to discover prejudice through the characters' natural behaviour, multiple dialogues directly discuss ancestry and legitimacy. This repetition occasionally underestimates the viewers, gradually reducing the force of an otherwise compelling idea. The emotional core of the story arrives considerably later than expected.

Once Ramappa’s personal history unfolds, the film suddenly gains warmth, humanity, and dramatic strength. His relationships, disappointments, and inner conflicts finally explain his disturbed state of mind, making this the most engaging part of the film. Ironically, had these emotional revelations been distributed earlier throughout the narrative, the audience’s attachment to the character would have developed much sooner, making his ultimate suffering considerably more moving. Nevertheless, the Director knows the audience better, than others.

The dialogue writing deserves both appreciation and criticism. While many conversations are intellectually stimulating and contain thoughtful reflections on identity, they often sound more literary than conversational. Characters occasionally deliver philosophical essays rather than speaking naturally. Because everyday speech thrives on interruptions and emotional spontaneity, these carefully structured sentences create an impression of reading rather than living. Infusing conversational realism would have significantly strengthened the dramatic impact.

The pacing remains one of the film's greatest weaknesses, as numerous scenes extend well beyond their dramatic requirement. Several moments merely repeat information already understood by the audience, without introducing new emotional or narrative dimensions. A tighter edit removing approximately twenty minutes would have transformed the overall rhythm without sacrificing symbolism or thematic richness. Slow cinema need not become stagnant; deliberate pacing succeeds only when every moment continuously deepens character or emotion.

The performances fortunately compensate for many structural weaknesses. Satya Dev delivers a remarkably controlled and mature performance, avoiding theatrical exaggeration. His portrayal relies instead upon subtle facial expressions, restrained body language, and measured emotional transitions. His gradual descent into psychological conflict feels believable because he never seeks sympathy through excessive melodrama. Particularly impressive is his ability to communicate internal turmoil through silence as much as through speech.

Occasionally, however, Satya Dev’s delivery becomes so subdued that some emotional intensity is lost. Nevertheless, this remains one of his most accomplished performances. The female lead Renuka Character, performs with dignity and sincerity, though the screenplay offers her limited opportunities to emerge as an independent dramatic force. She primarily exists to illuminate different aspects of Ramappa's personality rather than develop a complete emotional journey of her own, a limitation lying entirely in the writing rather than her performance.

Among the supporting characters, the loyal maid servant Achchamma leaves a gentle yet memorable impression despite limited screen time. Her quiet concern, simplicity, and unwavering loyalty provide emotional grounding amidst the surrounding psychological complexity. Without drawing attention to herself, she adds authenticity to the domestic atmosphere and reinforces the human values that form the film's central message. The police officer similarly performs his role with commendable restraint.

Instead of resorting to the stereotypical aggression or exaggerated authority often associated with cinematic police characters, the officer remains believable and measured. Though his appearance is brief, his natural performance maintains the realism of his scenes. The remaining supporting cast generally performs with conviction, never becoming distracting or excessively theatrical. Nevertheless, certain elderly characters occasionally appear more interested in expressing philosophical viewpoints than responding naturally to unfolding situations.

This seems less an acting deficiency than a directorial preference favouring ideas over conversational realism. For instance, Dr Narayanachari serves as the rational anchor of the narrative. He approaches Ramappa's condition with patience, professional integrity, and an open mind, refusing to jump to convenient conclusions. His calm demeanour or outward behaviour provides a welcome contrast to the emotional turbulence surrounding the protagonist. However, the screenplay does not fully exploit his character's potential.

A deeper exploration of his observations and deductions could have strengthened both the psychological dimension and the credibility of the unfolding mystery. Lavanappa, in the role of elder son of Ramappa, as one of the more intriguing supporting characters, brings a plain simplicity and authenticity to the story. His presence offers occasional relief from the film's intense philosophical tone, yet he is never reduced to mere comic support. His interactions with Ramappa subtly reveal the latter's emotional state and changing perceptions.

Even so, Lavanappa's character seems underwritten. A few additional scenes exploring his relationship with the central character would have made his contribution more meaningful and emotionally resonant. Yet, from a directorial perspective, the film deserves admiration for its ambition; attempting a philosophical, psychological drama within contemporary Telugu cinema which requires considerable courage. Director Venkatesh Maha, critically acclaimed for his Filmfare Award-winning debut C/o (Care of) Kancharapalem, frequently demonstrates artistic sensitivity in his visual composition.

Several frames resemble carefully composed paintings, while the ageing mansion effectively mirrors the fragmentation of the protagonist's emotional world. This symbolic use of architecture, silence, and physical space often succeeds where dialogue becomes unnecessarily elaborate. At the same time, the director occasionally appears too attached to his own symbolism. Certain visual metaphors continue long after their purpose has been established.

Once the audience understands the symbolic relationship between the physical surroundings and Ramappa's mental condition, repetition contributes little additional meaning. Greater restraint would have strengthened, rather than weakened, this symbolic power. The climax provides the emotional and philosophical fulfilment toward which the narrative steadily moves, allowing the central message to emerge with clarity. Human Relationships and Families are ultimately built upon compassion, acceptance, and moral commitment rather than biological inheritance.

This conclusion possesses a universal relevance that quietly challenges social prejudices without becoming preachy or confrontational. Even here, however, the film slightly overexplains its conclusions. After establishing the emotional truth, additional explanatory dialogue diminishes the natural power of the ending. Silence, restrained expressions, and visual storytelling could have conveyed this final resolution far more effectively.

Rao Bahadur is a film of substantial merit that stops short of greatness. Its ideas are richer than its execution, its performances stronger than its screenplay, and its destination more satisfying than the journey leading toward it. By raising significant questions about identity, belonging, and legitimacy, it successfully encourages viewers to examine long-held social assumptions regarding ancestry. These achievements deserve genuine appreciation.

Yet, cinema ultimately depends upon balance. Intellectual depth should coexist with narrative engagement, and symbolism should illuminate rather than obscure. Had the screenplay been more disciplined, the pacing tighter, and certain symbolic elements, particularly the mirror apparitions, omitted entirely, Rao Bahadur might have become an exceptional psychological drama instead of merely a commendable one.

Despite these imperfections, the film remains worthwhile because it leaves the audience contemplating an enduring truth: blood may determine biological origin, but humanity is shaped by love, compassion, and the relationships we consciously build. Incidentally, it is worthwhile to appreciate that Mahesh Babu beautifully set the stage for this narrative by presenting it with the premise: ‘When Drama Begins, Logic Ends.’

Last, but not least, one interesting observation I made: The sequence involving Ramappa ordering black coffee from his blunt maid, Achamma, operates as a sharp satire on social conditioning and the absurdity of obsession over ‘Purity’ and ‘Colour.’ The scene features comedic friction where Achamma struggles to comprehend what black coffee is. This scene ties directly into the film's structural commentary on how ancestral conditioning works. Similarly, Ramappa's proxy dialogues with figures from the Mahabharata represent his fixation on bloodline legitimacy, the burden of lineage, and patriarchal anxiety over producing a ‘Pure’ heir.

It perhaps could be the Legitimacy Dilemma. In the epic, the Pandavas are not biologically fathered by Pandu, but by various gods through a divine mantra given to Kunti and Madri. By bringing these figures into his psychological hallucinations, Ramappa externalised his internal demon: the absolute terror of illegitimate lineage. Ramappa's mind is obsessed with the concept of a ‘miracle’ or high-born birth right. By arguing with Kunti and Madri, his sub-conscious exposes the hypocrisy of modern caste and lineage fanaticism.

The inclusion of Sanjay Gandhi may be serving as a historical anchor for the themes of forced control, authoritarian hubris, and the legacy of the late 20th century. Set in a timeline spanning from 1968 to 1991, the Sanjay Gandhi reference serves to juxtapose Ramappa's personal, domestic autocracy with India's real-world political history. Sanjay Gandhi's era is historic for the Emergency, aggressive population controls, and uncompromising exercise of power. Ramappa views himself as a royal sovereign whose word should be absolute law inside his mansion, Bhuvanalayam.

Satya Dev’s (Ramappa) dialogue involving Sanjay Gandhi connects his internal psychological decay to the external political disillusionment of that specific era in India, emphasizing how unchecked arrogance and the desire to control human destiny inevitably crumble. Notwithstanding the few Minus-Minus-Minus aspects, the Plus + Plus aspects, which are plenty, make Rao Bahadur a must-see film: unquestionably a thought-provoking one, but it could have been far more engaging. Let us agree to disagree that: ‘When Drama Begins, Logic Ends.’

సర్ ఐజాక్ న్యూటన్ దృష్టితో సర్ >>>>> ఘంటా ప్రజాస్వామ్య వేదికమీద పరకాల భావాలపై ఒక పరిశీలన : వనం జ్వాలా నరసింహారావు

 సర్ ఐజాక్ న్యూటన్ దృష్టితో సర్

ఘంటా ప్రజాస్వామ్య వేదికమీద 

పరకాల భావాలపై ఒక పరిశీలన

వనం జ్వాలా నరసింహారావు

ప్రజాతంత్ర దినపత్రిక (జులై నెల 5. 2026)

{పౌరులు విజ్ఞానవంతమైన బృందాలుగా సంఘటితమై, సంస్థాగత పరిణామాల దీర్ఘకాలిక పర్యవసానాల గురించి ఒకరికొకరు అవగాహన కల్పించుకుని, ప్రజాస్వామ్య ప్రక్రియలను పరిరక్షించడంలో బాధ్యతాయుతంగా పాల్గొనాలి. ఆ సలహా ఆందోళనను కార్యాచరణగా మారుస్తుంది. బహుశా న్యూటన్ మూడవ గమన నియమానికి నిజమైన ప్రజాస్వామ్య సమానార్థకం ఇదే...} – సంపాదకుడి క్లుప్త వ్యాఖ్య

మూడు శతాబ్దాల క్రితం సర్ ఐజాక్ న్యూటన్ ప్రతిపాదించిన మూడు గమన నియమాలు భౌతిక వ్యవస్థల స్వభావాన్ని అర్థం చేసుకోవడానికి ప్రాథమిక సైద్ధాంతిక చట్రంగా నిలిచాయి. ఈ నియమాలు ప్రజాస్వామ్య పాలనను అర్థం చేసుకోవడానికి కూడా ఒక రూపకంగా ఉపయోగపడతాయి. సంస్థలు, సమాజాలు ఆకస్మిక మార్పులను ప్రతిఘటించడం, శక్తివంతమైన జోక్యాలకు ప్రతిస్పందించడమే కాక, అసలు చర్య ప్రభావాన్ని మించి కొనసాగే ప్రతిచర్యలను కూడా ఉత్పన్నం చేస్తాయని అవి సూచిస్తాయి.

అవి ఆకస్మిక విఘాతాలను ప్రతిఘటిస్తాయి; శక్తివంతమైన జోక్యాలకు ప్రతిస్పందించడమే కాక, అసలు చర్య ప్రభావాన్ని మించి కొనసాగే ప్రతిచర్యలను కూడా ప్రేరేపిస్తాయి. ఈ విశేషమైన సారూప్యత, ప్రొఫెసర్ ఘంటా చక్రపాణి ఆధ్వర్యంలో డాక్టర్ బీఆర్ అంబేద్కర్ ఓపెన్ యూనివర్సిటీలో 2026 జూలై 2న డాక్టర్ పరకాల ప్రభాకర్ చేసిన పీవీ నరసింహారావు ఎండోమెంట్ ఉపన్యాసాన్ని ఆలకిస్తున్నప్పుడు నాకు స్ఫురించింది. ఆ ఉపన్యాసంలోని ప్రధాన వాదనలను ఆధారంగా చేసుకుని, వాటి వెలుగులో విస్తృతమైన రాజ్యాంగ, ఎన్నికల, ప్రజాస్వామ్య సంబంధిత ప్రశ్నలను నిష్పాక్షికంగా విశ్లేషించడమే ఈ వ్యాసం ఉద్దేశం.

విశ్వవిద్యాలయ ప్రాంగణాల్లో చైతన్యవంతమైన సామాజిక-రాజకీయ చర్చలు క్రమంగా క్షీణిస్తున్న ఈ తరుణంలో, విజ్ఞానపూర్వక ప్రజా సంభాషణకు ఊతమిచ్చే ఇటువంటి విద్యాపరమైన చొరవ హర్షణీయమైనది. వైస్-ఛాన్సలర్‌గా బాధ్యతలు స్వీకరించిన నాటి నుంచే ఘంటా చక్రపాణి, ప్రజా సమస్యలపై చర్చ, వాదోపవాదం, ఆలోచనాపూర్వక సంప్రదింపులు, సంభాషణ, విమర్శ, మేధోమథనాలకు వేదికలను కల్పిస్తూ విశ్వవిద్యాలయాన్ని సజీవ మేధోచర్చల కేంద్రంగా తీర్చిదిద్దేందుకు కృషి చేశారు. కేవలం ప్రశంసలకు పరిమితమయ్యే వేదికలుగా కాకుండా, భావాలను విమర్శనాత్మకంగా పరిశీలించి విశ్లేషించే ప్రాంగణాలుగా విశ్వవిద్యాలయాల చారిత్రక పాత్రను ఆయన పునరుద్ఘాటించారు.

పీవీ నరసింహారావు ఎండోమెంట్ ఉపన్యాసం అలాంటి ప్రశంసనీయమైన చొరవే. డాక్టర్ బి.ఆర్. అంబేద్కర్ పేరు మీద ఏర్పాటైన ఒక విద్యాసంస్థ, గణతంత్ర భారతానికి అంకితమైన ఈ వార్షిక ఎండోమెంట్ ఉపన్యాసం ద్వారా దేశ అత్యంత విద్వాంసులైన ప్రధానమంత్రులలో ఒకరైన పి.వి. నరసింహారావును గౌరవించడం సముచితమే. ఈ సంవత్సరం 'సర్ 2025–26: భారతదేశ భావనను దెబ్బతీస్తున్నదా?' అనే అంశంపై ప్రసంగించేందుకు రాజకీయ ఆర్థికవేత్త, ప్రజా మేధావి, రచయిత డాక్టర్ పరకాల ప్రభాకర్‌ను ఆహ్వానించడం సమకాలీన సందర్భానికి అత్యంత సముచితమైన ఎంపిక.

ఈ ఉపన్యాసం ప్రత్యేక శ్రద్ధతో ఆలకించదగినది. ఎందుకంటే సాధారణంగా పరిపాలనా చర్చలకే పరిమితమయ్యే ఎన్నికల ప్రక్రియ వెనుక ఉన్న రాజ్యాంగపరమైన ప్రభావాలను పరిశీలించాల్సిందిగా అది శ్రోతలను ఆహ్వానించింది. పరకాల త‌న ఆందోళ‌న‌ను స్ప‌ష్టంగా వ్య‌క్తం చేస్తూ ఈ ఉప‌న్యాసాన్ని ప్రారంభించారు.  ప్రజాస్వామ్యాలు అరుదుగా ఆకస్మిక రాజ్యాంగ విచ్ఛిన్నాలను ఎదుర్కొంటాయని, బదులుగా, విధానపరమైన లేదా పరిపాలనాపరమైన చర్యల ద్వారా క్రమంగా పరివర్తన చెందుతాయని, వాటి  ప్రభావం కాలక్రమేణా స్పష్టమవుతుందని ఆయన గమనించారు.

ఈ నేపథ్యంలో, వోటర్ల జాబితాల ప్రత్యేక విస్తృత సవరణ (స‌ర్‌)  సాంకేతిక కోణాలకు అతీతంగా చూసి, భారతదేశ రాజ్యాంగ ప్రజాస్వామ్యంపై దాని విస్తృత ప్రభావాలను, పరిణామాలను పరిశీలించవలసిందిగా ఆయన ప్రేక్షకులను కోరారు. ప్రతి ప్రజాస్వామ్యానికి విశ్వసనీయమైన, కచ్చితమైన వోటర్ల జాబితాలు అవసరమని ఆయన అంగీకరించారు. ఎందుకంటే అనర్హుల పేర్లను తొలగించడం అనేది ఏ వివేకవంతుడైన పౌరుడూ కాదనలేని ఒక లక్ష్యం. అయినప్పటికీ, ఈ ప్రక్రియను ఎలా రూపొందించి, అమలు చేశారనే దానిపై ఆయన ఆందోళన కేంద్రీకృతమైంది.

ఒక పరిపాలనా ప్రయోజనానికి, దాని రాజ్యాంగ పరిణామాలకు మధ్య ఉన్న తేడాను గుర్తించాలని ఆయన ప్రేక్షకులను కోరారు. అసాధారణమైన సంస్థాగత జోక్యాలు బలమైన, పారదర్శకమైన, బహిరంగంగా సమర్థించదగిన కారణాలపై ఆధారపడి ఉండాలనే ఆలోచనలో న్యూటన్ మొదటి సూత్రంలో ప్రజాస్వామ్య ప్రతిధ్వని వినిపిస్తుంది. స్థిరపడిన ప్రక్రియలకు అసాధారణ చర్యలు తోడైనప్పుడు, ఆవశ్యకత, పద్ధతి, రక్షణల గురించి స్పష్టత ఇవ్వడంపై ప్రజల విశ్వాసం ఆధారపడి ఉంటుందని, ఎందుకంటే ప్రశ్నలు సంస్థలను బలహీనపరచకుండా బలోపేతం చేస్తాయని ప‌ర‌కాల‌ వాదించారు.

ఇంత విస్తృతమైన ఎన్నికల ప్రక్రియ నేపథ్యంలో తలెత్తిన ఆందోళనలకు, సర్‌కు సంబంధించి అధికారికంగా ఇచ్చిన వివరణలు తగిన సమాధానాలు ఇచ్చాయా అని పరకాల ప్రశ్నించారు. పారదర్శకత, సమాచార ప్రాప్యతపై జరిగిన ప్రజా చర్చలను ప్రస్తావిస్తూ, రాజ్యాంగ ప్రక్రియలు కేవలం చట్టబద్ధ అధికారంతోనే కాక, ప్రజల విశ్వాసంతోనూ తమ ప్రామాణికతను పొందుతాయని ఆయన వాదించారు. ఎక్కడైతే పారదర్శకత స్థానంలో అపారదర్శకత చోటుచేసుకుంటుందో, అక్కడ సహజంగానే అనుమానాలకు తావు ఏర్పడుతుందని ఆయన పేర్కొన్నారు.

ఎన్నికల మినహాయింపుల వల్ల కలిగే పరిణామాలకు ఆయన తన ప్రసంగంలో గణనీయమైన భాగాన్ని కేటాయించారు. అర్హులైన పౌరులలో ఒక చిన్న భాగం అనుకోకుండా ఎన్నికల ప్రక్రియకు వెలుపల ఉండిపోయినా, దాని పర్యవసానాలు ఎన్నికల గణాంకాలకు మించి చాలా దూరం విస్తరిస్తాయన్నది ఆయన వ్య‌క్తం చేసిన‌ ప్రధాన ఆందోళన. సార్వత్రిక వయోజన వోటు హక్కు కేవలం ఒక పరిపాలనా హక్కు మాత్రమే కాదు, ఇది గణతంత్రంలో సమాన పౌరసత్వానికి అత్యంత స్పష్టమైన వ్యక్తీకరణలలో ఒకటి. అందువల్ల, సమ్మిళితత్వంపై ఆందోళనలను రేకెత్తించే ఏ ప్రక్రియ అయినా అత్యంత నిశితమైన రాజ్యాంగ పరిశీలనకు అర్హమైనది.

ఈ సందర్భంలో న్యూటన్ రెండవ గమన నియమం మరో ప్రభావవంతమైన రూపకాన్ని అందిస్తుంది. భౌతిక శాస్త్రంలో బలం ఎంత ఎక్కువగా ఉంటే, త్వరణం కూడా అంత ఎక్కువగా ఉంటుంది. అదే విధంగా రాజ్యాంగ పరిపాలనలో, సంస్థాగత జోక్యం ఎంత విస్తృతమైనదైతే, అది అంత ఎక్కువ స్థాయిలో నిష్పాక్షికత, పారదర్శకత, జవాబుదారీతనాన్ని నిర్ధారించాల్సిన బాధ్యతను మోస్తుంది. పరకాల చేసిన ప్రతి విశ్లేషణతో ఏకీభవించినా, ఏకీభవించకపోయినా, ఆయన ప్రధాన ప్రతిపాదన మాత్రం స్పష్టమైనదే. భారీ స్థాయిలో చేపట్టే పరిపాలనా చర్యలు, వాటికి అనుగుణంగా మరింత ఉన్నతమైన విధానపరమైన సమగ్రతను అనివార్యంగా కోరుకుంటాయి.

పరకాల ఉపన్యాసం చివరికి వోటర్ల జాబితాల తక్షణ సమస్యను అధిగమించి, రాజ్యాంగ నైతికత, సంస్థాగత విశ్వసనీయత, ప్రజాస్వామ్య పౌరసత్వంపై విస్తృతమైన ఆలోచనగా పరిణామం చెందింది. అతని విజ్ఞప్తి కేవలం ప్రభుత్వాలకు లేదా రాజ్యాంగ అధికారులకు మాత్రమే పరిమితం కాలేదు. అదే విధంగా, తగినంత ప్రజా చర్చను ఆకర్షించకుండా ప్రజాస్వామ్య సంస్థలను క్రమంగా పునర్నిర్మించగల పరిణామాల పట్ల రాజకీయ పార్టీలు, పౌర సమాజం, విశ్వవిద్యాలయాలు, మీడియా అప్రమత్తంగా ఉండాలి.

పరకాల  విస్తృతమైన ఆందోళన ఎన్నికల సవరణ  యాంత్రికతకు మించి విస్తరించింది. ఆయన దృష్టిలో, పౌరుడికి, రాజ్యానికి మధ్య అభివృద్ధి చెందుతున్న సంబంధంపై ఆలోచించడానికి స‌ర్‌ ఒక ప్రారంభ బిందువుగా నిలిచింది. ఆయన రాజ్యాంగంలో పొందుపరచబడిన ప్రాథమిక విలువలైన న్యాయం, స్వేచ్ఛ, సమానత్వం, సౌభ్రాతృత్వాన్ని, కేవలం అమూర్త ఆదర్శాలుగా కాకుండా, ప్రతి పౌరుడు ప్రజాస్వామ్య సంస్థల ద్వారా అనుభవించవలసిన ఆచరణాత్మక హామీలుగా పదేపదే నొక్కిచెప్పారు. అందువల్ల, ఆయన వాదన సంఖ్యల గురించి తక్కువగా, సూత్రాల గురించి ఎక్కువగా; ఎన్నికల అంకగణితం గురించి తక్కువగా, రాజ్యాంగ ప్రక్రియలపై ప్రజల విశ్వాసాన్ని కాపాడటం గురించి ఎక్కువగా ఉంది.

న్యూటన్ రెండవ గమన నియమం దృష్టితో చూస్తే, ప్రజాస్వామ్య ప్రక్రియలో సంస్థాగత జోక్యం ఎంత విస్తృతంగా ఉంటే, నిష్పాక్షికత, అనుపాతత, పారదర్శకతలను నిరూపించాల్సిన బాధ్యత కూడా అంత ఎక్కువగా ఉంటుంది. పరకాల వ్యక్తం చేసిన ఆందోళనలు, ఆయన ప్రధాన ప్రతిపాదన ఆలోచనాత్మక పరిశీలనకు అర్హమైనవి. అసాధారణమైన పరిపాలనా జోక్యాలు, వాటి ఆవశ్యకతను, సముచితతను సమర్థించే అసాధారణమైన వివరణను కూడా కోరుకుంటాయి. సంస్థలు కేవలం తమ అధికారాన్ని వినియోగించడం వల్లనే కాదు; ఆ అధికారం బహిరంగంగా, స్థిరంగా, అనవసర అనుమానాలకు తావులేకుండా వినియోగించబడుతోందని నిరూపించడం ద్వారానే ప్రజల విశ్వాసాన్ని చూరగొంటాయి.

పరకాల రాజ్యాంగ పరిశీలనకు, పక్షపాత పోటీకి మధ్య ఉన్న వ్యత్యాసాన్ని స్పృహతో వివరించారు. వోటు హక్కు అనేది ఎన్నికల ప్రయోజనానికి అతీతమైనదని, రాజకీయ ప్రాధాన్యత, సామాజిక గుర్తింపు లేదా సైద్ధాంతిక అభిప్రాయాలతో సంబంధం లేకుండా, అర్హత ఉన్న ప్రతి పౌరుడికి అది సమానంగా చెందుతుందని ఆయన శ్రోతలకు పదేపదే గుర్తు చేశారు. బహుశా, ఆయన ఉపన్యాసం నుండి ప్రజలు మనసులో బలంగా నాటుకుపోయే ముఖ్య సందేశం ఇదే. సంస్థలు రాజకీయ పోటీకి అతీతంగా ఉన్నప్పుడు, ఎన్నికల ప్రక్రియలు నిష్పక్షపాతంగా, పారదర్శకంగా, అందరికీ అందుబాటులో ఉన్నాయని పౌరులు భావించినప్పుడు ప్రజాస్వామ్యాలు బలోపేతం అవుతాయి.

పరకాల ఆందోళన చెందినట్లుగా, అర్హులైన వోటర్లలో అధికశాతం మంది తొల‌గింపున‌కు గురైతే, ప్రజాస్వామ్య భాగస్వామ్యాన్ని పరిరక్షించే బాధ్యత కేవలం రాజ్యాంగ అధికారులపై మాత్రమే ఉండకూడదు. బీజేపీయేతర ప్రభుత్వాలు, ప్రతిపక్ష పార్టీలు, పౌర సమాజ సంస్థలు, స్వచ్ఛంద పౌర వేదికలు కూడా అంతే అప్రమత్తంగా ఉండాలి. వారు తమ ఎన్నికల హక్కులను కాపాడుకోవడంలో పౌరులకు సహాయపడాలి.  ప్రజాస్వామ్య భాగస్వామ్యం విధానపరమైన సంక్లిష్టతలకు బందీ కాకుండా చూడాలి. రాజ్యాంగ ప్రజాస్వామ్యం కేవలం ప్రభుత్వ చర్యలతోనే కాకుండా, నిరంతర పౌర భాగస్వామ్యంతోనే నిలబడుతుంది.

పరకాల తన ప్రసంగాన్ని అత్యంత వ్యక్తిగతమైన స్మృతులతో ప్రారంభించడం హృద్యంగా అనిపించింది. పీవీ నరసింహారావు గురించి ఆయన పంచుకున్న జ్ఞాపకాలు, పదవి లేదా రాజకీయ విజయాలకు అతీతంగా, ఒక మహోన్నత వ్యక్తిత్వాన్ని ఆవిష్కరించాయి. మాజీ ప్రధానమంత్రితో తనకున్న సన్నిహిత అనుబంధాన్ని ఆయన ఆప్యాయంగా స్మరించుకున్నారు. వారిద్దరి మధ్య జరిగిన సంభాషణలు, కలిసి చేసిన ప్రయాణాలు, ఆయన నుంచి నేర్చుకున్న జీవితపాఠాలు, చివరికి కలిసి ఆడిన బ్యాడ్మింటన్ ఆటలను కూడా హృదయపూర్వకంగా గుర్తుచేసుకున్నారు.

ఈ స్మృతులన్నీ ఆధునిక భారతదేశపు అత్యంత విద్వాంసులైన రాజనీతిజ్ఞులలో ఒకరైన పి.వి. నరసింహారావు వ్యక్తిత్వంలోని ఆంతరంగిక కోణాలను సజీవంగా ఆవిష్కరించాయి. ఆ వ్యక్తిగత స్మరణ ఉపన్యాసానికి భావోద్వేగ గాఢతను జోడించడమే కాక, ఎవరి స్మారకార్థం ఈ ఎండోమెంట్ ఉపన్యాసం నిర్వహించబడుతుందో, ఆ మహనీయ రాజనీతిజ్ఞునికి తగిన నివాళిగా నిలిచింది.

ప్రతి చర్యకు సమానమైన ప్రతిచర్య ఉంటుందని న్యూటన్ మూడవ గమన నియమం చెబితే, ప్రజాస్వామ్యాలు కూడా తమను తాము సరిదిద్దుకునే సహజ యంత్రాంగాలను కలిగి ఉంటాయి. అయితే ఆ ప్రతిచర్య తప్పనిసరిగా ఘర్షణాత్మకంగా ఉండాల్సిన అవసరం లేదు; విజ్ఞానపూర్వక పౌర భాగస్వామ్యం, ప్రజల్లో అవగాహన కల్పించడం, రాజ్యాంగ చైతన్యాన్ని పెంపొందించడం రూపంలోనూ వ్యక్తమవవచ్చు. ముఖ్యంగా, ఉపన్యాసానంతర ప్రశ్నోత్తర కార్యక్రమంలో, ముందుకు సాగాల్సిన మార్గం ఏమిటన్న ఈ రచయిత ప్రశ్నకు సమాధానంగా, పరకాల నిరాశనూ, నిష్క్రియాత్మక విమర్శనూ సమర్థించలేదు. దానికి బదులుగా, ఇటువంటి సంస్థాగత పరిణామాల దీర్ఘకాలిక పర్యవసానాల గురించి ప్రజలకు అవగాహన కల్పించేందుకు ప్రత్యేక పౌర బృందాలను ఏర్పాటు చేయాలని ఆయన గట్టిగా సూచించారు.

అందువల్ల, బంతి ఇప్పుడు ఒకరి కోర్టులో కాదు; ఎన్నికల సంఘం, రాజ్యాంగ న్యాయస్థానాలు, కేంద్ర, రాష్ట్ర ప్రభుత్వాలు, రాజకీయ పార్టీలు, విశ్వవిద్యాలయాలు, పౌర సమాజ సంస్థలు, మీడియా, అన్నింటికంటే ముఖ్యంగా అప్రమత్తమైన పౌరుల కోర్టులో ఏకకాలంలో ఉంది. ఆ బాధ్యత స్పష్టంగా కనిపిస్తోందా, లేక ఉద్దేశపూర్వకంగా మరుగునపడుతోందా అన్నది కూడా ప్రజల పరిశీలనకు సంబంధించిన అంశమే. ప్రజాస్వామ్యాలు క్లిష్టమైన ప్రశ్నలను విస్మరించడం వల్ల కాదు; వాటిని హేతుబద్ధంగా, పారదర్శకంగా, రాజ్యాంగ నిబద్ధతతో ఎదుర్కొనడం వల్లే మరింత బలోపేతమవుతాయి, వర్ధిల్లుతాయి.

ప్రతి తరానికి చెందిన శాస్త్రవేత్తలు న్యూటన్ సూత్రాలను పరిశీలించి, పరీక్షించి, వాటిపై మానవాళి అవగాహనను మెరుగుపరచడం వల్లే అవి శతాబ్దాలుగా నిలిచి ఉన్నాయి. ప్రజాస్వామ్యాలు కూడా ఇంతకంటే తక్కువకు అర్హమైనవి కావు. రాజ్యాంగ ప్రక్రియలు పరిశీలనను తట్టుకోవాలి, సవరణలను ఆహ్వానించాలి, విజ్ఞానవంతమైన ప్రజా భాగస్వామ్యం నుండి మరింత బలంగా ఆవిర్భవించాలి. పరకాల ఉపన్యాసం ఒక శాశ్వత ప్రయోజనాన్ని అందిస్తే, అది రాజకీయ విభజనలను తీవ్రతరం చేయడానికి కాకుండా, రాజ్యాంగపరమైన ఆత్మపరిశీలనను ప్రేరేపించడానికి అయి ఉండాలి. ఆ సంభాషణలో ఆయన ముగింపులో ఇచ్చిన సమాధానం బహుశా ఆ మధ్యాహ్నం అందించిన అత్యంత నిర్మాణాత్మక సందేశం.

పౌరులు విజ్ఞానవంతమైన బృందాలుగా సంఘటితమై, సంస్థాగత పరిణామాల దీర్ఘకాలిక పర్యవసానాల గురించి ఒకరికొకరు అవగాహన కల్పించుకుంటూ, ప్రజాస్వామ్య ప్రక్రియలను పరిరక్షించడంలో బాధ్యతాయుతంగా భాగస్వాములు కావాలి. పరకాల ఇచ్చిన ఈ సలహా ఆందోళనను కార్యాచరణగా మలుస్తుంది. బహుశా న్యూటన్ మూడవ గమన నియమానికి నిజమైన ప్రజాస్వామ్య సమానార్థకం ఇదే కావచ్చు—ప్రతి సంస్థాగత చర్యకు ప్రతిస్పందనగా అంతే స్థాయిలో విజ్ఞానపూర్వక పౌర భాగస్వామ్యం ఆవిర్భవించాలి. అలా జరిగితే, ఆందోళనపై ఆశావాదం, తాత్కాలిక ప్రయోజనాలపై రాజ్యాంగ విలువలు, ఎదురయ్యే ప్రతి సవాలుపై గణతంత్రం ఎల్లప్పుడూ విజయం సాధిస్తాయి.

A Journey back to the Hyderabad that shaped a Generation : Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

 A Journey back to the Hyderabad 

That shaped a Generation

Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

The Hans India (July 5, 2026)

{‘In Hyderabad Days: The Code We Lived by Before We Coded,’ Microsoft Corporate Vice President Ravi Vedula beautifully chronicles how the values, friendships and everyday experiences of middle-class Hyderabad shaped his extraordinary journey from the Panjagutta Junior Officers’ Colony to the corporate corridors of Microsoft. Blending personal memoir with the collective memory of Hyderabad in the 1980s and 1990s, the book is far more than a nostalgic recollection—it is a heartfelt tribute to the neighbourhoods, relationships and formative experiences that moulded an entire generation long before they ever learned to write computer code} – Editor Hans India Synoptic Note

My nephew, Dr Aitharaju Bharat Babu, a dental specialist by profession but a litterateur by volition, walking in the footsteps of his illustrious father, the late Dr AP Ranga Rao, is a voracious reader and a passionate book lover. He constantly surrounds himself with a vibrant circle who include among others, doctors, civil servants, social activists, political leaders, journalists, high-profile software experts etc. as well as authors of highly acclaimed books.

Bharat makes it a point to purchase works at his own expense, generously gift them to friends and relatives to spread the joy of reading. One such remarkable 350-page book that Bharat recently gifted me is ‘Hyderabad Days: The Code We Lived by Before We Coded,’ authored by Ravi Vedula, his teenage days friend, when their families lived as neighbours in the government accommodations of the Panjagutta Junior (PJ) Officers’ Colony in Hyderabad. Their friendship has beautifully endured the test of time.

Bharat fondly recounted his memories with Ravi Vedula, who is a lifelong engineer and a storyteller at heart. Today, he serves as Corporate Vice President at Microsoft, residing in Seattle, USA. Ravi has spent there for over twenty-five years making munificent contributions across various technological domains. Beyond his impressive academic credentials, his journey to the upper echelons of Microsoft is a testament to resilience, advancing from a barefoot boy chasing cricket balls down the dusty lanes of Hyderabad’s Panjagutta of yester years, to a global tech executive.

Coming from a modest middle-class background, Ravi uses this memoir, as beautifully captured in the ‘About the Author’ note, as a metaphorical return home. It is a nostalgic pilgrimage not just for him, but for anyone who fondly remembers a simpler world that fundamentally shaped who they became. A fascinating aspect of this book is its publication in the USA by ‘8080 Books,’ a unique publishing imprint of Microsoft Corporation, the very company where Ravi Vedula has built his career.

Adding immense weight to the volume is an immaculate foreword penned by Greg Shaw, an extraordinary individual who, three decades ago, worked closely with industry titans Bill Gates and Peter Rinearson. Gates is the legendary pioneer of the microcomputer revolution of the 1970s and 1980s who co-founded Microsoft in 1975. Rinearson is a distinguished American journalist, author, entrepreneur, and former Microsoft Vice President who famously won the Pulitzer Prize.

The foreword opens with a compelling reminiscence of his role in publishing epoch-making literature. He highlights his experience with The Road Ahead, a seminal work that famously heralded the personal computer and internet revolutions. Shaw also reflects on his later experience collaborating with Microsoft’s current CEO, Satya Nadella, on the critically acclaimed book Hit Refresh. That work anticipated the massive, ongoing shifts defining modern technology, namely cloud computing, artificial intelligence (AI), augmented reality, and quantum computing.

Shaw astutely observes that in both of these landmark books, the authors revealed critical glimpses of their personal back-stories. He then draws upon a few more historical instances to illustrate how an individual's formative years invariably shape their grandest professional achievements. Drawing a brilliant parallel between those landmark tech manifestos and Ravi Vedula’s Hyderabad Days, Greg Shaw characterizes this memoir as an elegantly written testament to a unique human phenomenon.

Greg Shaw opines that, it explores the unwritten ‘Code’ that Ravi, much like an entire generation of Indian-American software developers, assimilated within their childhood colonies and neighbourhoods long before they ever learned to program a computer. Ultimately, Shaw hails the book as both a literary triumph and an illuminating lecture. Capturing the very soul of the memoir, he highlights a poignant quote from the author: ‘This isn’t a story of how I made it. It’s the story of where I was made.’  With this, Shaw aptly concludes that inside each of us live those foundational memories and reminders of where we were made, and of the people who taught us how to live.

Ravi Vedula’s preface is deeply electrifying, masterfully framing his life’s trajectory as a journey between two distinct worlds: India gave him his roots, and America gave him his wings. Reflecting on this profound duality, Ravi notes that while the dusty lanes of Hyderabad taught him resilience, the value of five rupees, and Jugaad, the art of resourceful, frugal innovation under strict constraints, the high-stakes conference rooms of corporate America demanded absolute clarity, expansive vision, and global scale.

This juxtaposition inspired his memoir, a creative spark ignited during a personal meeting with General Colin Powell. Ravi was struck by how Powell, the legendary first Black US Secretary of State and a decorated military leader, drew upon boyhood anecdotes to guide his statesman leadership. Mirroring Powell’s own biographical approach to life and leadership, Hyderabad Days stands as Ravi's personal testament to those enduring early lessons.

Structured chronologically, Hyderabad Days comprises seventy-six distinct topics distributed across six thematic sections: ‘The World Within the Gates; Kitchen Politics, Cricket Wars, and Other Neighbourhood Truths; Stories That Raised Us; Growing Up, Drifting Apart; Voices from the Outside; and finally, The Colony Without Borders:and the Day It Stood Still.’ In an enthralling opening piece aptly titled ‘Nostalgic Lead,’ Ravi Vedula candidly reveals that his book was never meant to be a grand project.

Instead, wrote Ravi that, it blossomed from a simple, deep-seated desire to preserve fleeting sensory memories: the unique aroma of his mother’s Upma, the raw feel of gravel under bare feet during neighbourhood cricket matches, and the distinct, grainy taste of Gokul Chat enjoyed under neon lights after hunting for second hand comics. Yet, as he committed these vivid memories to paper, Ravi arrived at a profound realization. These childhood chronicles were far more than mere nostalgia, but they were the raw human circuits and cognitive algorithms, the foundational building blocks, that shaped his entire way of thinking.

In his opening topic, Ravi Vedula masterfully clarifies the cultural definition of an Indian ‘Colony,’ explaining that it signifies a vibrant, deeply interconnected neighbourhood rather than a sterile settlement. Reflecting on the spirited atmosphere of Panjagutta, he vividly illustrates this shared ecosystem by writing: ‘Everyone knew everyone. If you sneezed in your bedroom, someone in three houses down would send you Haldi Milk. If your cricket ball smashed a window, the news reached your mother before you got home, and if you tried to date someone, five uncles and six aunties were already following the drama.’

Capturing the true essence of the city’s past, Ravi writes: ‘It's about Hyderabad in the 1980s and 1990s: not the Hyderabad of Biryani brochures or tech parks, but the one with drain-covered gullies, open gates, and neighbours who all knew your nickname.’ Yet, he candidly admits that the memoir does not shy away from life's harsher realities. Some chapters carry the heavy, unmistakable weight of grief and longing, evoking images of love letters never sent or a cricket bat never returned.

Even amidst these shadows, Ravi beautifully concludes that the community offered an enduring solace: There was always a kind of light. That is what the colony gave us, a net of belonging, strong enough to hold both joy and pain.’ From the day Ravi Vedula moving into PJ-4 to fond memories of Gokul Chat, Pesarattu (Crisp, Green Moong Crepe), Milk Cards, Morning Sleep, and the IAS Lane, Bhel Puri and Tick-Ticket Toys, every single chapter is captivating.

In his final reflections, Ravi grows deeply nostalgic, writing: ‘The PJ Colony is no longer the same ... My family home has been demolished ... But its spirit lives in me.’ Well, Hyderabad, a city that managed small colonies and neighbourhoods, now governs global aspirations. Hyderabad Days is a masterpiece: an evocative, must-read book that beautifully honours a lost world.

(Available on this link also: https://epaper.thehansindia.com/Home/ShareArticle?OrgId=57d578a7e1&imageview=0)

(Article Writer: Former CPRO to Former Telangana Chief Minister KCR)

A Review on ‘Microsoft VP’ Ravi Vedula’s ‘Hyderabad Days’ Book

‘The Code We Lived by Before We Coded’

From Fathery Hospital to Saloon-Salon >>>>> An Evening of Names, Memory, and Meaning >>>>> Twenty-First Friday Evening meeting: Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

 From Fathery Hospital to Saloon-Salon

An Evening of Names, Memory, and Meaning

Twenty-First Friday Evening meeting 

(Press Club Hyderabad)

Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao (July 3, 2026)

            Twenty-one uninterrupted Friday evenings have now transformed what began as an informal gathering of like-minded professionals into a living chronicle of shared experience. Each meeting has drawn strength from its predecessors while contributing a fresh layer to an expanding repository of collective memory. The Twenty-First Friday Evening, held on July 3, 2026, continued that journey in the same spirit of curiosity, fellowship, and thoughtful conversation.

As like-minded members gathered one after another in the AC Room at the Press Club Hyderabad on July 3, 2026, for their regular Friday Evening Meeting, the Twenty First in uninterrupted succession, intermittent rain prompted many to remain indoors instead of occupying the usual open area. The resulting buzz of animated conversation created a lively atmosphere, with enthusiasm momentarily outweighing order. Sensing a trace of impatience among a few of us, Amar recalled an expression often used by his granddaughter, still in her early teens, yet familiar with concepts that, he smilingly admitted, had remained unknown to him despite his advanced age: ‘Read the Room.’

It was indeed interesting to learn about it. ‘Reading the room’ means adjusting our behaviour to suit the mood, energy, and unspoken expectations of a particular group or situation. It calls for emotional intelligence and situational awareness. Its essential elements are Observation, Adaptation, and Empathy: noticing body language, facial expressions, and the overall atmosphere; adjusting our tone, subject, and humour to suit the occasion; and understanding what others may be feeling without being told. That simple expression said it all. We quietly settled into the environment for the evening.

As has become the normal practice, some participants initiated the conversation by referring to the recent address delivered by Amar Devulapalli at the Telangana Saraswat Parishad Auditorium on his life's journey and five decades of experience in journalism. Instead of recounting the entire address, Amar shared a few interesting highlights. One of them was that he was born at the Missionaries Hospital in Hanamkonda, popularly known then as the "Fathery Hospital." From there, the discussion naturally moved to the terminology associated with different institutions, particularly hospitals.

Participants fondly recalled several such instances. It was observed that, in many parts of the erstwhile Andhra Pradesh, including Hanamkonda and Warangal, early missionary hospitals were popularly known as ‘Fathery’ hospitals or ‘Padri’ hospitals. One participant explained that this colloquial linguistic adaptation followed a pattern similar to the transformation of ‘Quarantine’ into ‘Koranti,’ a usage that can best be understood in its historical and cultural context.

The local Telugu and Urdu speaking population frequently interacted with Christian missionaries, whom they addressed as ‘Father’ or ‘Padri,’ a term for Christian priests introduced during the Portuguese and British colonial periods. In local dialects, adding a ‘Y’ or ‘EE’ sound to a noun to denote ownership or association is quite common. Thus, a hospital managed by Christian Fathers naturally came to be known in everyday parlance as the ‘Fathery’ Davakhana or ‘Padri’ Hospital.

In Hanamkonda, this specifically refers to the historic Baptist Mission Hospital, associated with the American Baptist Telugu Mission, completed in 1902 during the Nizam's rule. As the institution stood alongside the Centenary Baptist Church and was managed by missionary doctors and ordained ministers, the entire complex in Lashkar Bazar came to be popularly known among older generations as the ‘Fathery Hospital’ or ‘Padri Hospital.’

This naming convention was not confined to Hanamkonda. Across the Deccan region, whenever a Christian mission established the first modern dispensary or school in a district, local people usually bypassed the long official English names and simply identified the institution by the people who managed it. The conversation then naturally shifted to other hospitals in Hyderabad, their old and new names, and the evolution of those identities.

Almost all the participants, either born and brought up in Telangana or associated with the region for decades, readily recalled many of these interesting names. A broad understanding emerged from the discussion that, during the Asaf Jahi, or Nizam era, and for several years, if not decades, after the integration of Hyderabad State into India, many of the city's iconic healthcare institutions continued to be popularly known by their historical or colonial names.

A prime example is the Nizam's Orthopaedic Hospital, which later evolved into the Nizam's Institute of Medical Sciences, popularly known as NIMS. Like many other institutions of that era, its name reflected its founder, patron, or the locality it served. Several such medical institutions came to be identified by localized Urdu expressions, colonial titles, or the names of royal patrons. Established during the reign of the Seventh Nizam, Mir Osman Ali Khan, it eventually evolved into the present-day NIMS.

Similarly, the majestic Indo Saracenic structure of Osmania General Hospital, completed in 1925, was widely known as Afzal Gunj Hospital, after its original 1866 patron, Nizam Afzal ud Doula, or simply as Dar ul Shifa. In Secunderabad, the institution now known as Gandhi Hospital began in 1853, later became the British era Prince Edward Memorial Hospital, subsequently the King Edward Memorial Hospital, or KEM Hospital, before being renamed in 1956 in honour of Mahatma Gandhi.

Specialty care also gave rise to distinct colloquial names across the city. The Government Nizamia General Hospital, established near the historic Charminar in 1938 to provide Unani treatment, came to be popularly known as the Charminar Unani Hospital. In Yerragadda, the mental health institution, originally known in Urdu as Darul Majaneen or the Jalaluddin Lunatic Asylum, later became the Government Mental Health Centre.

The neighbouring Government Chest Hospital found its home in the heritage Irranuma Palace, originally built by the Paigah noble Vikar ul Umra, before being converted by the Nizam into a Tuberculosis, or TB, Sanatorium because of its elevated and breezy location. The participants then turned their attention to the tradition of localized names and royal patronage that shaped women's and children's healthcare, infectious disease control, and several other prominent hospitals across Hyderabad.

The Government ENT Hospital in Koti originally functioned in the private estate of the wealthy nobleman and banker Raja Pratap Girji, retaining his name for generations as the Raja Pratap Girji ENT Hospital. Maternal and child healthcare witnessed the emergence of Niloufer Hospital, initially established as the Nizam's Children and Women Hospital, with the support of Princess Niloufer of the Ottoman Empire in 1949 after she witnessed the tragic death of a maid during childbirth.

This institution was closely associated with the older concept of the Jajgi Khana or Zajgi Davakhana, the traditional Urdu expression for a maternity home or childbirth house. Originally, this term became synonymous with the Victoria Zenana Hospital, later known as the Victoria Maternity Hospital, a women's hospital established near the Musi River in 1907. Decades later, the historic premises became part of the Telangana High Court campus, now functioning as its H Block, while the medical institution was relocated nearby as the Modern Government Maternity Hospital. Even today, many locals and older auto drivers continue to refer to it as the Petlaburj Maternity Hospital or simply the old Jajgi Khana.

Likewise, the city's principal institution for combating epidemics, the Sir Ronald Ross Institute of Tropical and Communicable Diseases in Nallakunta, continues to be remembered by its simpler popular names. Established by the Nizam in 1915 as a Quarantine Facility during a cholera outbreak, the local adaptation of the English word "Quarantine" gradually gave rise to the familiar name Koranti Davakhana, or simply Couranty. Although officially renamed in 1997 to mark the centenary of Sir Ronald Ross's Nobel Prize winning research on malaria, it continues to be widely known as the Government Fever Hospital.

The conversation then moved to an interesting observation by an Indian journalist and writer who, while in the United Kingdom, discovered that a ‘Saloon’ referred to a bar and not to a barber's ‘Salon,’ as he had understood it in India before leaving for abroad. The discussion was initiated by Dr Bharatbabu, the only guest who participated in the Twenty First Friday Evening Meeting. Soft spoken Bharat recalled a book recommended by his father, Late Dr A P Ranga Rao, once a long-time resident of the United Kingdom and a member of the Press Club, where this distinction was clearly explained.

The conversation soon became even more informative as participants, step by step, recalled further details about the writer. It was Sasthi Brata Chakravarti, popularly known as Sasthi Brata, the fiercely provocative British Indian Indo Anglian writer and journalist. A brief clarification followed regarding his bibliography. My God Died Young, published in 1968, was in fact his debut work, a cult classic autobiography centred on youthful angst, alienation from his conservative Calcutta roots, and his eventual self-exile in the West.

 Sasthi Brata's later work, Confessions of an Indian Woman Eater, published in 1971, was a highly controversial, semi-autobiographical novel tracing the mischievous and often self-indulgent adventures of an Indian protagonist wandering through Europe. Brata's writing was marked by uncompromising honesty, sharp irreverence, and wit. He frequently employed this style to examine both traditional Indian social norms and the cultural shocks he experienced while adapting to life in the West.

The jocular confusion over the word ‘Saloon’ highlights the classic linguistic and cultural contrast that Brata so masterfully portrayed in his writings. In mid twentieth century India, particularly in local dialects, a ‘Saloon’ commonly referred, and perhaps still does in some places, to a modest neighbourhood barber shop or ‘Hair Cutting Salon.’ However, on arriving in the West, an Indian traveller relying on that usage could easily be confused, for there a saloon is a drinking establishment or bar.

Brata employed precisely such linguistic misunderstandings to portray the humour of the uprooted immigrant experience, illustrating how a naive traveller in search of a quick haircut could inadvertently walk through the swinging doors of a bustling pub. In this context, one of the Friday Evening Meeting participants referred to the recent book Avoid Blunders: Write Right English by Vinay Bhushan Bhagwaty, who aptly cautions that, ‘A Word can make a World of Difference.’

Elaborating on this, the author cites modern examples such as writing ‘Please ADVICE me’ instead of ‘Please ADVISE me,’ and the humorous anecdote, ‘Nun takes care of Monk's needs’ instead of ‘None takes care of my needs.’ Such examples are not merely amusing but also illustrate how a single word can cause confusion, embarrassment, or even reputational damage. ‘Saloon’ and ‘Salon’ present similar instances.

Had the discussion ended there, the meeting would have quietly concluded for the evening. However, an enthusiastic participant referred to the ‘World's Oldest Luxury Barbershop,’ which has served London's elite since its establishment in 1805. Another participant added that it is the world's oldest luxury barbershop chain, built upon British royal heritage and distinguished by its premium services. In Hyderabad, it stands in striking contrast to the modest neighbourhood salon, with branches in Banjara Hills and Gachibowli. Its name is ‘Truefitt & Hill.’

One or two participants shared their personal experience of visiting the establishment. Their observations suggested that the experience seemed carefully designed to shift attention from the cost of a haircut to the ambience and the overall grooming ritual, something they felt a neighbourhood barber could accomplish far more simply and economically. Those who had visited remarked, with a touch of humour, that the process resembled an elaborate forty-five-minute sequence of hot towels, pre shave oils, and badger hair brushes.

Although no participant recalled the exact charges, it was generally observed that the cost of a haircut varied considerably according to the services chosen. The discussion also touched upon the establishment's annual membership, said to cost around Rs 1.10 lakh, offering unlimited grooming services for a year with validity across its outlets worldwide. Rather than dwelling on the commercial aspects, the conversation examined how ambience, heritage, branding, and exclusivity together shape perceptions of value, often extending well beyond the service itself.

The Twenty First Friday Evening had, in fact, commenced quite modestly with Amar Devulapalli, one of the regular participants, responding to the request of friends to recount a few significant episodes from his remarkable life's journey, taking cue from the address he had delivered a few days earlier at the Telangana Saraswat Parishad. Speaking with his characteristic simplicity and humility, Amar briefly reflected on his evolution from childhood to becoming one of the most respected journalists, editors, trade union leaders, and media personalities in the Telugu speaking world.

As already noted earlier, his narration was not merely a personal memoir but also an illuminating account of the evolution of journalism, the media landscape, and the socio-political movements that shaped his five-decade long career. Since several participants had been unable to attend his earlier address, they requested him to share a few highlights. His reference to being born on June 10, 1956, at the Missionaries Hospital in Hanamkonda, popularly remembered as the ‘Fathery Hospital,’ became the point of departure for the fascinating discussion on historical names, linguistic transformations, and collective memory that unfolded through the evening.

As has become an enriching feature of these Friday Evening Meetings, thoughts that could not be shared during the discussion if not often, at times, find expression later. In that spirit, Bhandaru Srinivasa Rao, owing to paucity of time, could not speak during the meeting, but later communicated an informative message through WhatsApp. Being both timely and contextual, it is appended here as a fitting tailpiece to this week's narrative. ‘Every reform should be viewed through the eyes of the ordinary citizen. Millions of sincere voters have been faithfully exercising their democratic right over the years.’

‘This they do despite facing often, struggling with changing constituencies, polling stations, and electoral records. They seek neither privilege nor favour, only the assurance that their identity as voters remains secure and respected. Fear of losing an existing right, coupled with uncertainty about the future, breeds frustration and distrust. Governance earns lasting public confidence only when policies are designed with simplicity, accessibility, and the convenience of ordinary people foremost, ensuring every citizen continues to feel counted, valued, and heard.’

With yet another evening of shared memories, thoughtful exchanges, and enriching conversations becoming part of this continuing chronicle, the participants dispersed with the quiet satisfaction of having jointly learnt something new, looking forward to meeting again on the coming Friday, as usual.  

SIR Through the Lens of Sir Isaac Newton >>>>> Pondering Parakala at Ghanta's Democratic Platform : Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

 SIR Through the Lens of Sir Isaac Newton

Pondering Parakala at 

Ghanta's Democratic Platform

Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao (July 2, 2026)

Sir Isaac Newton's three laws of motion, formulated more than three centuries ago: inertia, force or acceleration, and action-reaction, serve as a foundational framework for understanding physical systems. These principles offer a metaphor for democratic governance, suggesting that institutions and societies often display similar dynamics of resistance to change and reactionary forces.

They resist abrupt disruptions, respond to powerful interventions, and generate reactions outlasting the original action. This striking parallel emerged while listening to Dr Parakala Prabhakar’s PV Narasimha Rao Endowment Lecture at Dr BR Ambedkar Open University (On July 2, 2026), organised under Professor Ghanta Chakrapani's stewardship. Drawing upon Dr Parakala’s lecture, this article presents his arguments, offering an objective reflection on larger constitutional, electoral, and democratic questions.

At a time when university campuses face a perceptible decline in vibrant socio-political engagement, it is heartening to witness an academic initiative that revives informed public discourse. From the beginning of his tenure as Vice-Chancellor, Ghanta Chakrapani has sought to transform the university by creating platforms for discussion, debate, deliberation, dialogue, critique, and intellectual engagement on public issues. He has reaffirmed the historic role of universities as spaces where ideas are examined rather than merely applauded.

The PV Narasimha Rao Endowment Lecture is one such initiative. It is befitting that an institution named after Dr BR Ambedkar should honour one of India's most scholarly Prime Ministers through an annual lecture devoted to the Republic. This year's choice of Dr Parakala Prabhakar: political economist, public intellectual, and author, to speak on ‘SIR 2025-26: Dismantling the Idea of India?’ was highly contemporary. The lecture deserved careful attention because it invited the audience to examine the constitutional implications of an electoral process that ordinarily remains confined to administrative discussion.

Parakala commenced his lecture with an unmistakable note of concern. Democracies, he observed, seldom experience abrupt constitutional ruptures; rather, they undergo gradual transformations through seemingly procedural or administrative measures whose cumulative impact becomes evident over time. Against this backdrop, he invited the audience to look beyond the technical dimensions of the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls and examine its larger implications and ramifications for India's constitutional democracy.

He was careful to acknowledge that every democracy requires credible and accurate electoral rolls, as the elimination of ineligible entries is an objective no conscientious citizen would dispute. However, his concern centred on how the exercise was conceived and implemented, urging the audience to distinguish between an administrative purpose and its constitutional consequences.

Newton's first law finds democratic resonance in the idea that extraordinary institutional interventions must rest on compelling, transparent, and publicly defensible reasons. Parakala argues that when established processes are supplemented by exceptional measures, public confidence rests on providing clarity regarding necessity, methodology, and safeguards, as questions strengthen rather than weaken institutions.

Parakala questioned whether the official explanations surrounding SIR adequately addressed the concerns accompanying such an extensive electoral exercise. Referring to public debates on transparency and access to information, he argued that constitutional processes derive legitimacy from both statutory authority and public trust. Wherever opacity overshadows openness, suspicion naturally occupies the space left behind.

A substantial part of his address was devoted to the possible implications of electoral exclusions. His central anxiety was that even if a small proportion of eligible citizens were inadvertently left outside the electoral process, the consequences would extend far beyond election statistics. Universal Adult Franchise is not merely an administrative entitlement, but it is among the most visible expressions of equal citizenship in the Republic. Any process that raises apprehensions regarding inclusion, therefore, deserves the closest constitutional scrutiny.

At this stage, Newton’s second law offered another compelling metaphor. In physics, greater force produces greater acceleration. In constitutional governance, the wider the scope and scale of an institutional intervention, the greater the responsibility to ensure fairness, transparency, and accountability. Whether or not one accepts every inference Parakala drew, his underlying proposition was that large-scale administrative exercises inevitably demand proportionately higher standards of procedural integrity.

Parakala's lecture ultimately transcended the immediate issue of electoral rolls, evolving into a broader reflection on constitutional morality, institutional credibility, and democratic citizenship. His appeal was not directed exclusively at governments or constitutional authorities. Equally, it challenged political parties, civil society, universities, the media, and ordinary citizens to remain attentive to developments that may gradually reshape democratic institutions without attracting proportionate public debate.

Parakala's larger concern extended well beyond the mechanics of electoral revision. For him, SIR represented a point of departure to reflect upon the evolving relationship between the citizen and the State. He repeatedly returned to the foundational values embedded in the Constitution: justice, liberty, equality, and fraternity, not as abstract ideals but as practical assurances that every citizen must experience through democratic institutions. His argument, therefore, was less about numbers and more about principles, less about electoral arithmetic and more about preserving public confidence in constitutional processes.

Viewed through Newton's second law, the larger the institutional force exerted upon the democratic process, the greater the obligation to demonstrate fairness, proportionality, and transparency. Parakala's apprehensions and his central proposition deserve thoughtful consideration. Extraordinary administrative interventions must carry an equally extraordinary burden of explanation. Institutions inspire confidence not merely by exercising authority, but by demonstrating that such authority is exercised openly, consistently, and without leaving room for avoidable suspicion.

Parakala consciously differentiated between constitutional scrutiny and partisan contestation. He repeatedly reminded the audience that the right to vote transcends electoral advantage, belonging equally to every eligible citizen, irrespective of political preference, social identity, or ideological persuasion. This, perhaps, was the most enduring takeaway from his lecture. Democracies are strengthened when institutions remain above political contestation and when citizens perceive electoral processes to be impartial, transparent, and universally accessible.

If, as Parakala apprehended, large sections of eligible voters face exclusion, the responsibility to safeguard democratic participation cannot rest solely upon constitutional authorities. Non-BJP governments, opposition parties, civil society organisations, and voluntary citizen forums must remain equally vigilant. They must assist citizens in protecting their electoral rights and ensure democratic participation does not become hostage to procedural complexities. Constitutional democracy survives not by governmental action alone, but through continuous civic engagement.

The deeply personal note on which Parakala commenced his address was touching. His recollection of PV Narasimha Rao transcended public office or political accomplishment. He spoke with warmth about knowing the former Prime Minister closely, recalling conversations, travels, learning moments, and even badminton games that offered an intimate glimpse into one of modern India's most scholarly statesmen. That personal remembrance lent emotional depth to the lecture and served as a fitting tribute to the statesman in whose memory the Endowment Lecture has been instituted.

If Newton's third law teaches that every action inevitably evokes a reaction, democracies too possess corrective mechanisms. The most meaningful reaction need not be confrontation; it can equally be informed participation, public education, and constitutional awareness. Significantly, during the post-lecture interaction, in response to this writer's question regarding the way forward, Parakala did not advocate despair or passive criticism. Instead, he emphatically suggested forming dedicated citizen teams to educate people about the long-term implications of such institutional developments.

Hence, the ball rests simultaneously in several courts: the Election Commission, constitutional courts, Union and State governments, political parties, universities, civil society organisations, the media, and, above all, the vigilant citizen. Whether that ball is visible or deliberately obscured is itself a matter for public scrutiny. Democracies thrive not because difficult questions are avoided, but because they are confronted with reason, transparency, and constitutional fidelity.

Newton's laws have endured for centuries because every generation of scientists examined, tested, and refined humanity's understanding of them. Democracies deserve no less. Constitutional processes must withstand scrutiny, invite correction, and emerge stronger from informed public engagement. If Parakala's lecture serves a lasting purpose, it should not be to deepen political divisions but to stimulate constitutional introspection. His concluding response during the interaction was perhaps the afternoon's most constructive message.

Citizens must organise into informed teams, educate one another about the long-term implications of institutional developments, and participate responsibly in safeguarding democratic processes. That advice transforms anxiety into action. Perhaps the real democratic equivalent of Newton's third law is this: every institutional action should evoke an equal measure of informed civic participation. If that happens, optimism will always prevail over apprehension, constitutional values over transient expediency, and the Republic over every challenge confronting it.