India has witnessed several shocking cases of alleged medical negligence that ended in preventable deaths.

History suggests that revolutions are not born merely from poverty. They emerge when rising aspirations collide with unmet expectations. Political thinkers such as Alexis de Tocqueville, James C Davies, and Samuel P Huntington argued that societies become volatile when people's hopes grow faster than a system's ability to satisfy them. India's freedom movement, as well as the mass protests of the 1960s and 1970s, reflected this dynamic.

You can't become a cricketer just by buying a ticket to a match. You don't become a leader by voting. A red cap doesn't make you a revolutionary. Getting married doesn't automatically make you a father. So how exactly does getting a passport make you an Indian citizen?

When did we stop fixing things? When did a loose wire become a death sentence? When did a cracked screen mean goodbye, not repair?

Ah, summer vacation! Those two words once carried the fragrant romance of freedom. For children who grew up in India thirty or forty years ago, summer holidays were not just dates on a calendar. They were the most eagerly awaited season of the year. The final school bell did not merely mark the end of classes; it felt like the gates of a prison swinging open.

Our cities are expanding. Buildings scrape the sky. Cars gleam. Bank balances rise. Yet something essential is shrinking: our hearts. The question before us is simple. Does progress mean only wealth, status, and visibility? Or do courtesy, humility, and humanity matter just as much?