I used to think life was a series of contests. At school, in work, even in friendships—there was always a hidden scoreboard. To win meant someone else had to lose. It was simple, almost comforting in its clarity. But it was also exhausting. Every victory carried the sour aftertaste of conflict. I had climbed a ladder only to realize it was leaned against the wrong wall.
This greeting, the best wishes I heard from a few friends for the first time, made me wonder. I knew, somehow, what happiness was. But at that age, I didn’t quite understand this word prosperity. That evening, during my Sanskrit class, I asked my teacher, “What is this prosperity, and what is it to be prosperous?”
On this day, as we celebrate the birth anniversary of Sir M. Visvesvaraya, I find myself reflecting not on the grandeur of his public works alone, but on the quiet ways his life has shaped mine. Some of these lessons I sought deliberately. Others arrived unannounced, taking root in me through family influences, teachers, mentors, and choices that carried his echo.