Sticking with you

I am sticking with you, honey

You make my whole wide world sunny

When shadows creep and hopes feel few,
My heart finds its brave light in you.

Through quiet nights and noisy days,

Your laughter guides me, gentle blaze.

If storms arrive and skies turn gray,
Your hand still shows my soul the way.

I’ve seen my fears begin to bend
The moment you say, “I’m your friend.”

In borrowed time and moments true,
Each breath feels more alive with you.

If fate should ask what love can be,
I’ll point to us, so plain to see.

Not perfect paths, yet hearts that try,
With tears that fall, with dreams that fly.

So take my now, my then, my why—
I’m yours till stars forget the sky.

The 8% Paradox: Why India’s Growth Engine Is Leaving the Workforce Behind

We are awaiting the latest GDP quarterly figures today. Consensus estimate is 8.3%, making it close to 8% for FY26. Against this backdrop, the headline narrative is one of economic momentum and resilience. India appears firmly on track toward the aspirational vision of Viksit Bharat, powered by digital infrastructure, financial deepening, and high-end services. Yet beneath this impressive macroeconomic performance lies an uncomfortable contradiction: employment generation has failed to keep pace with growth. Employment elasticity is now at its lowest level in decades, creating a paradox where rapid expansion coexists with persistent job insecurity. To understand why India’s growth increasingly feels “jobless,” one must look beyond topline numbers and examine the structural imbalances shaping the economy.

The core problem is sectoral divergence. India’s growth is being driven by sectors that create relatively few jobs, while sectors that absorb large numbers of workers are either stagnating or growing too slowly. Services, which account for over half of GDP, are expanding at more than 9%, but employ barely a third of the workforce. Much of this growth is concentrated in capital-light, skill-intensive segments such as technology, finance, and professional services, where entry barriers remain prohibitively high for the average young job seeker. Manufacturing, long touted as the bridge between low-skill labour and higher productivity, continues to disappoint. Despite growing at around 7%, its share of GDP has remained stuck near 14% for over a decade, and automation has allowed firms to increase output without proportionate increases in employment. Agriculture presents the starkest imbalance: it absorbs nearly 45% of India’s workforce while contributing barely 16% to GDP and growing at just over 3%. In effect, it has become a holding pen for surplus labour, masking underemployment rather than resolving it.

These domestic structural issues are compounded by India’s weak performance in global labour-intensive exports. The much-discussed “China+1” opportunity should have been a windfall for employment, yet India has largely failed to capitalise on it. While policy attention has focused on high-technology manufacturing through production-linked incentive schemes for semiconductors and smartphones, countries like Vietnam have quietly captured the labour-intensive segments that generate mass employment. Vietnam’s exports exceed 90% of its GDP, compared to India’s roughly 22%. Over the past decade, Vietnam’s electronics exports have surged several-fold, while India’s apparel exports—traditionally one of the country’s strongest job creators—have actually declined in real terms. Structural disadvantages play a role: logistics costs remain significantly higher in India, with container shipments from Mumbai costing more and taking longer than from competing ports in Southeast Asia. Equally important is scale. Vietnam’s labour regime allows for large factory clusters employing tens of thousands of workers, whereas India’s manufacturing ecosystem remains fragmented, with the vast majority of textile firms employing fewer than 50 workers. The result is a perverse trade pattern in which India exports raw cotton while importing finished fabric, effectively exporting jobs along with raw material.

Equally troubling is the growing gap between policy intent and execution, a failure rooted less in design than in India’s fractured model of cooperative federalism. Grand schemes are announced at the Centre, but implementation rests with states that control land, labour administration, and last-mile delivery. Nowhere is this clearer than in skilling. Despite millions being certified under flagship programmes, placement rates under PMKVY remain below 45%. A system designed centrally but administered locally has fostered a culture of certification over employment, with weak employer linkage and minimal accountability for outcomes. A similar erosion is visible in rural employment. MGNREGA, once a stabilising safety net, has seen an estimated double-digit decline in person-days generated over the past year. The transition toward productivity-oriented frameworks such as the Viksit Bharat–Rozgar Mission reflects a legitimate policy ambition, but design choices—such as restricting work availability during peak agricultural seasons—have drawn criticism for constraining the poor’s right to employment precisely when income insecurity is highest.

Labour market reform, long recognised as essential, remains trapped in political limbo. The consolidation of 29 labour laws into four modern codes was intended to simplify compliance and encourage scale, yet implementation remains uneven. A handful of states, notably Gujarat and Tamil Nadu, have moved ahead, while large parts of the heartland remain paralysed by political sensitivity. The result is regulatory fragmentation that deters investment in labour-intensive sectors and perpetuates informality.

This divergence is increasingly visible in state-level outcomes. High investment inflows do not automatically translate into jobs. Andhra Pradesh, for instance, has attracted a significant share of recent capital expenditure, yet continues to struggle with relatively high unemployment, reflecting the capital-heavy nature of incoming projects. Gujarat, by contrast, combines moderate investment with dense MSME networks and superior industrial absorption, resulting in consistently low unemployment. Uttar Pradesh presents a different challenge altogether: it leads in enrolments under training and skilling schemes, yet youth unemployment remains alarmingly high, underscoring the gap between training and actual private-sector hiring.If India is to prevent its demographic dividend from turning into a demographic liability, a strategic pivot is unavoidable. Labour-intensive manufacturing must move to the centre of industrial policy, not the margins. India needs large, genuinely plug-and-play textile and footwear clusters with minimal regulatory friction and world-class logistics, explicitly designed for export competitiveness. Incentives must reward employment creation—particularly for women—rather than merely subsidising capital investment. At the same time, the “missing middle” in India’s enterprise landscape must be addressed. An overwhelming majority of MSMEs remain trapped at the micro level, deterred from scaling up by compliance costs and regulatory thresholds. Simplifying GST and labour compliance for firms that cross employment benchmarks could unlock significant job creation. The private sector, too, must shoulder greater responsibility. Complaints about unemployable youth ring hollow without a parallel commitment to training. Mandating structured apprenticeship programmes for large listed companies would help bridge the gap between education and employability.

Equally critical is addressing India’s “missing middle” of enterprises. An overwhelming majority of MSMEs remain trapped at the micro level, deliberately avoiding scale to escape compliance shocks. A credible escalator policy—such as time-bound compliance holidays for firms that expand employment—could unlock growth without reviving inspector-raj anxieties. Finally, skilling must be decentralised to where demand actually exists. The private sector cannot remain a passive critic of employability gaps. Mandatory, structured apprenticeships for large listed firms, supported by government-subsidised stipends, would create a direct pipeline from education to employment.

In the end, 8% growth is a hollow achievement if it does not translate into broad-based opportunity. With female labour force participation stagnating near one-third and youth unemployment entrenched in double digits, the challenge before India is not merely to grow faster, but to grow wider. Until growth once again becomes a generator of dignified work, India’s economic success will remain impressive on paper—and incomplete on the ground.

If India is to prevent its demographic dividend from degenerating into a demographic liability, a fundamental policy pivot is unavoidable. The growth strategy must move decisively from incentivising capital to incentivising people. Production-linked incentives based solely on incremental sales are insufficient. They must evolve into employment-linked incentives, where tax benefits are tied directly to net additions in formal payrolls, verifiable through EPFO data. Labour-intensive export sectors such as textiles, leather, toys, and footwear require dedicated “job-first” industrial zones with pre-cleared land, minimal regulatory friction, round-the-clock power, and logistics efficiency comparable to regional competitors in Southeast Asia.

Of Apples That Would Not Die

 There are moments when a trivial domestic oversight opens a crack through which an entire age may be examined. This is one such moment.

Recently, we had been away for a month to the USA ( from Singapore) . A long journey, the sort that dislocates routine and dulls memory. In the haste of departure, an apple was forgotten on the dining table—set down casually, without ceremony, as one sets down a pen or a book, assuming time will do what it has always done.

The house was locked. Outside, the tropics performed their familiar labour. The air grew heavy and wet. Days ripened into weeks beneath a sun that tolerates nothing unchanged. In such conditions, fruit does not merely rot; it is claimed. Skin gives way, sweetness turns acrid, and life—fungus, flies, worms—arrives to complete the cycle.

When we returned, I approached the table with the mild dread reserved for such discoveries. One expects a darkened stain on the wood, the collapse of form, perhaps the restless evidence of decay. Instead, the apple lay where it had been left. Its skin unbroken. Its colour undimmed. It possessed the calm obstinacy of an object that had not noticed time passing.

I lifted it. There was no softness, no yielding. It was neither offensive nor fragrant. With a knife, I cut it open, expecting at least some small confession of nature—a tunnel, a blemish, a sign of life’s intervention.

There was none.

No worm. No mould. No beginning of return to the soil. It was as though the apple had been embalmed.

I threw it away at once. But the question it raised did not follow it into the bin.

The Silence Inside the Fruit

Such an apple would have been unthinkable not very long ago. Twenty years past, the cutting of a tomato or an okra—vendakkai—was an act performed with a certain attentiveness. One sliced, one inspected. Sometimes there was disappointment; sometimes mild disgust; often, a quiet acceptance. A worm was no scandal. It was proof that the vegetable had lived a negotiable life, one that insects found persuasive.

What are the chances today?

Slice a tomato now. Split open an okra. The interior is pristine, vacant, almost architectural in its neatness. The worm has vanished, not because it no longer exists, but because it has been taught—by chemistry, by saturation, by force—that this is no longer food.

This change has been welcomed as improvement. Productivity, Cleanliness, we are told. Advancement. Better farming. Yet one must ask: by what standard? The worm is not a creature of taste or preference. It is governed by instinct refined over millions of years. Its refusal is not aesthetic; it is biological.

When the worm withdraws, it does so for reasons older and more reliable than marketing.

What Has Been Altered

The fields have not merely been cultivated; they have been subdued. Plants are now raised in an atmosphere of constant defence—sprayed, coated, fortified, corrected. The soil is instructed rather than consulted. Every other form of life is treated as an enemy to be eradicated, not a participant to be endured.

The result is produce that appears flawless and yet exists in a peculiar isolation. It resists insects. It resists bacteria. It resists decay. And in doing so, it resists its own destiny.

Food once belonged to a visible cycle: growth, ripeness, consumption, return. To interrupt that cycle was considered unnatural. Today, interruption is the very objective.

The Cost Deferred

It would be comforting if such food announced its danger loudly. But it does not. It enters the body quietly, day after day, asking not to nourish but merely to pass through. The body, accustomed to conversation with living matter, finds itself confronted with substances that persist without participating.

The consequences do not appear at once. They arrive as accumulations: fatigue without cause, disorders without precedent, children who grow quickly but not sturdily, appetites that are never satisfied. Medicine responds earnestly, but always downstream, where the damage has already learned to hide.

A Closing Unease

The apple that would not rot is not a marvel; it is a metaphor. It speaks of a civilisation increasingly at odds with the conditions that produced it. When food no longer returns willingly to the earth, one wonders how willingly it can become part of us.

That even worms—nature’s most indiscriminate custodians—refuse our fruits should give us pause. For the judgement of worms is not moral, nor political, nor nostalgic. It is simply accurate.

And accuracy, once ignored for long enough, has a way of becoming fate.

Vaikuntha Ekadashi

 தாய் கண்ட துயரமெல்லாம் தீர்க்க வந்த திருமாலே

தளர்ந்த நெஞ்சம் தாங்கிடவே தாழ்ந்து நின்ற திருமாலே

தரிசனம் தந்த நாளெல்லாம் தண்ணீராய் உருகும் நெஞ்சம்

தவித்த உயிர்க்குத் தாரகமாய் தழைத்த நாமம்—மாலே

தீய கண்ணீர் தீர்த்திடவே தீபமாய் நின்ற திருமாலே

திசையெங்கும் தெய்வமென்று தெரிவதெல்லாம் உன் கோலமே

துன்பச் சுமை துளையாக்கி துயர் கழுவும் திருப்பாதம்

துயில் கெடும் இரவெல்லாம் துய்ய நாமம்—மாலே

தாய்போல் அரவணைக்கும் தன்மை கொண்ட திருமாலே

தர்மம் காக்கத் தாழ்வென்றும் துணிந்த இதயம்—மாலே

தடுமாறும் காலடிக்கு தாங்கு கம்பம் உன் கருணை

தரணியெல்லாம் தழுவுகின்ற தரிசன ரூபம்—மாலே

துளசியின் வாசம் போலத் தொடரும் உன் நினைவே

தீராத பசியென்றும் தீர்த்திடும் உன் நாமமே

தொலைந்த பாதை திரும்பிடவே தொட்டு நிற்கும் திருவருள்

தவம் வேண்டா—தாழ்வான நெஞ்சம் போதும், மாலே

India's Maritime Renaissance: A Journey Back to the Seas

There's something profoundly moving about watching the INSV Kaundinya set sail toward Muscat on her maiden voyage. This isn't just a ship—it's a declaration of intent, a bridge between India's glorious maritime past and its promising nautical future.

The vessel takes its name from Kaundinya I, the legendary first-century Indian mariner whose voyages to Southeast Asia weren't just adventures but the beginnings of cultural exchanges that would shape civilizations. His story, like so many from India's maritime golden age, reminds us of what once was: a nation of seafarers whose influence stretched from the Arabian coast to the distant shores of Africa, from the Bay of Bengal to the far reaches of Southeast Asia. For two millennia, Indian sailors and traders were masters of these waters, with the mighty Chola empire extending its reach across vast oceanic expanses.

What makes the Kaundinya's voyage particularly exciting is what it represents. Built as a faithful replica of fifth-century vessels depicted in the Ajanta Caves murals—constructed without nails, using ancient techniques—this ship is more than nostalgia. It's a reminder that India's maritime excellence isn't a distant myth but a tangible heritage waiting to be reclaimed.

And the timing couldn't be more opportune. Today, as global supply chains reveal their vulnerabilities and nations reassess their strategic capabilities, India stands at a crossroads of tremendous possibility. The shipbuilding sector—dominated by powerhouses like Japan, South Korea, and China—is precisely the kind of labor-intensive industry where India's demographic dividend could shine brilliantly.

The opportunity is clear: combine India's abundant workforce with cutting-edge technology and skill development, and we have the foundation for a maritime resurgence. Imagine Indian shipyards buzzing with activity over the next decade, producing world-class commercial vessels that carry goods across global trade routes. It's not a fantasy—it's an achievable goal with the right investments and partnerships.

What's particularly encouraging is that India doesn't need to go it alone. Collaboration with established shipbuilding nations like Japan and South Korea could accelerate knowledge transfer and technological advancement, creating a win-win scenario that strengthens both India's capabilities and regional maritime cooperation.

The INSV Kaundinya's journey—first to Muscat, then onward to Bali and beyond—serves as a powerful metaphor. Just as this ancient-style vessel navigates modern seas, India can blend its rich maritime heritage with contemporary innovation to carve out a significant role in global shipping.

The path forward requires commitment from both government and private sectors, strategic investments in infrastructure and skills, and a national vision that recognizes shipbuilding as the strategic priority it truly is. But if there's one thing the Kaundinya's voyage teaches us, it's that the spirit of Indian seafaring never truly disappeared—it was simply waiting for the right moment to return.

As we watch this remarkable vessel sail toward the horizon, we're not just looking back at history. We're glimpsing a future where India once again commands respect on the world's oceans—not through conquest, but through capability, commerce, and connection.

The winds appear to be favourable. It is perhaps time to set sail.

What Ho! The Christmas That Wasn't

Statutory warning: I maintain an irrational loyalty to premium audio equipment and an unfortunate habit of noticing what everyone else successfully ignores.

The thermometer read minus four Celsius. "Feels like minus thirteen," chirped Alexa, with the sort of sadistic glee one associates with dentists announcing root canal procedures. Undaunted, I set forth on my morning constitutional. Christmas morning, no less. One doesn't let a little thing like potential frostbite interfere with one's daily perambulation. That way lies softness, and softness leads to elasticated waistbands.

The kit: four layers of clothing, two winter caps (one concealing what nature chose to make aerodynamic), Gore-Tex boots, thermal underthings, and my faithful Bose over-ear headphones. Twenty-five years I've stuck with Bose. Longer than most celebrities stay married. In Singapore's swelter, I use the in-ear sort—unless one fancies braising one's brain in its own juices. But here in Wisconsin's arctic wastes, the over-ear models are the ticket. They muffle wind, seal out cold, and prevent one's ears from snapping off like frozen biscuits.

Thus armoured and caffeinated, I ventured into the frozen wastes.

The previous evening's reconnaissance had revealed something distinctly rum. The neighborhood blazed with Christmas lights—enough wattage to stage Diwali and the Blackpool Illuminations simultaneously. Snowmen stood guard. Light-up reindeer grazed. Santas waved mechanically from rooftops. The whole nine yards of festive fol-de-rol.

Only one tiny detail missing: people.

Not a soul. Not one. I peered through windows (gentlemanly peering, naturally—none of your vulgar gawping) and found rooms as empty as a politician's promise. It was like stumbling onto a film set after the crew had packed up and scarpered, only someone had forgotten to turn off the lights and the electricity bill.

Where were the blighters? Had they all been beamed up? Won a collective trip to Barbados? Spontaneously combusted?

The more prosaic explanation, I fear, involved the standard modern pattern: Young folk flee for Cities with proper coffee shops and reliable WiFi. Leave elderly parents rattling around in houses roughly the size of Westminster Abbey. Check in via FaceTime twice yearly. Consider duty done.

Houses, not homes. Homes have voices, laughter, burned Yorkshire pudding, arguments over the remote. These structures had all the warmth of a banker's handshake.

This morning's walk made the previous evening's effort look positively carnivalesque.

Lights: off. Streets: deserted. Churches: locked, littered with dead leaves, looking rather how I imagine the morning after the office Christmas party. Not a creature stirring, not even the proverbial mouse. The only movement came from those ominous grey clouds overhead, which had the decency to merely threaten rather than assault.

One pictures the scene inside those fortresses of solitude: Amazon boxes on the doorstep. DoorDash DashMesh long departed, his delivery app pinging cheerfully. Inside, Grandma or Grandpa—or both, if lucky—unwrapping gifts with arthritic fingers. Audience: the television (CNN burbling), the dog (snoring), the cat (judging).

The neighborhood pub where they once held court? Wheelchair won't budge, old sport. The Christmas ball where they cut a rug in '63? Hips replaced, knees shot, dancing days done. The family gathering with siblings and their rowdy offspring? Busy Timothy has a "conflict"—lacrosse tournament in Connecticut, terribly sorry.

What's left? The pre-paid plot at Eternal Rest Gardens. Location secured (nice and quiet). Coffin selected (mahogany, very dignified). Tombstone design approved (tasteful font, none of your Comic Sans nonsense). Wreath size determined. All sorted, all paid for. Just waiting for the final curtain. Then – rest in peace, and celebrate Christmas in the netherworld. 

But wait!  Aren’t these oldies already resting in peace in those homes, nay, houses? 

Merry Christmas to all. Especially to those celebrating it alone, with only the cat for company and CNN for conversation.

Debt Is Not Destiny: Why India’s Long-Term Growth Will Be Decided in Its States

Debt has become the default instrument of economic policy across much of the world. In the decade following the global financial crisis—and again after the pandemic—governments increasingly relied on borrowing to sustain growth, stabilise incomes and finance public investment. The result has been a sharp rise in public debt almost everywhere.

The more relevant question today is not whether debt is high, but whether it is productive. Over long horizons, economies succeed when borrowing expands productive capacity faster than the cost of servicing that borrowing. Where this condition fails, debt eventually constrains growth rather than enabling it.

Imagine a household buying its first home with a mortgage. The loan is manageable, payments fit comfortably within income, and as earnings rise over time, the debt feels lighter. This is leverage working as intended.

Encouraged by rising prices, the household buys a second home, again mostly on debt. Rental income covers part of the cost, and salary growth fills the rest. Leverage still works because income broadly keeps pace with obligations.

Now imagine a third and fourth property. Income growth slows, but borrowing continues. Maintenance costs rise, interest rates fluctuate, and cash flows tighten. On paper, the household looks wealthier. In reality, the margin for error has disappeared. Any shock—a job loss, a rate hike—forces difficult choices.

This is the point at which debt stops being fuel and starts becoming ballast.

The parallel with public finances is clear. Governments can carry rising debt so long as income grows faster than obligations. Trouble begins when borrowing continues even as income growth slows, or when debt funds consumption rather than assets that raise future earning power.

Some economies resemble the prudent first homeowner. Others look closer to the over-leveraged investor, relying on growth to arrive on schedule. History suggests it rarely does.

A useful way to frame this trade-off is to compare the growth of government debt with the growth of per-capita income. If incomes rise faster, debt becomes more manageable over time. If debt outpaces income, leverage accumulates—even if headline GDP growth appears healthy.

Viewed through this lens, global outcomes diverge markedly.

A Global Divide

A small group of economies—most notably Vietnam and Taiwan—have managed to align debt growth closely with per-capita income growth over the past decade. Their success rests on export-led growth models, strong manufacturing or technology ecosystems, and relatively disciplined fiscal frameworks. Singapore, often cited for its high gross debt, remains a special case: its liabilities are matched by financial assets, making conventional debt metrics misleading.

At the other end of the spectrum lie economies such as China, Brazil and South Africa, where debt has expanded substantially faster than per-capita income. In China’s case, the issue is not simply the level of debt but its concentration in local governments and property-linked financing vehicles, which has reduced the productivity of incremental borrowing.

Between these two groups sit several large emerging economies—including India—where income growth remains strong but debt has begun to rise more rapidly. This is not yet a point of stress. But it is a signal worth taking seriously.

India’s Aggregate Strength—and Its Hidden Risk

At the national level, India’s macroeconomic position remains comparatively favourable. The country benefits from a long demographic runway, a large domestic savings pool, and public debt that is overwhelmingly denominated in local currency. Its digital public infrastructure has also improved fiscal capacity and targeting efficiency.

Yet India’s government debt has grown faster than per-capita income over the past decade, reflecting infrastructure investment, expanded welfare spending and pandemic-related support. So far, growth has been sufficient to absorb this increase.

The more important vulnerability, however, lies below the surface.

India is fiscally decentralised to an extent few large economies are. Its states account for a substantial share of public spending and borrowing—and they differ enormously in economic structure, revenue capacity and policy quality.

Thirty Economies, One Sovereign

A small number of Indian states—such as Karnataka, Haryana, Gujarat, Tamil Nadu and Telangana—have come close to maintaining a balance between debt growth and per-capita income growth. These states benefit from stronger urbanisation, export exposure, and higher productivity sectors.

Most states do not.

Across much of India, state-level debt has grown significantly faster than per-capita income. This reflects borrowing directed towards consumption subsidies, transfers and recurrent expenditures rather than productivity-enhancing investment. Over time, such patterns weaken fiscal resilience.

Unlike the central government, states operate under hard constraints. They cannot issue currency. They cannot adjust exchange rates. And their capacity to refinance debt depends increasingly on central transfers and market confidence. Persistent divergence between debt growth and income growth at the state level therefore poses a structural risk to India’s medium-term growth trajectory.

The Long-Term Implications

Debt dynamics evolve slowly. Problems rarely emerge in the early stages, when growth is strong and financing conditions are benign. The difficulty arises later, when demographic tailwinds fade and growth normalises, leaving less room to absorb accumulated obligations.

International experience is clear: economies that sustain high growth over decades use debt to raise productivity, not to defer adjustment. Where borrowing substitutes for reform, growth eventually slows.

India today sits between these two paths.

What Needs to Change

If India is to sustain high growth over the next three to four decades, the focus of reform must shift decisively towards state-level fiscal quality.

First, borrowing frameworks should be more explicitly linked to economic outcomes. States that demonstrate durable improvements in income growth, export capacity and urban employment should have greater fiscal space than those that do not.

Second, India’s fiscal rules need updating. Headline deficit targets matter less than the relationship between debt servicing costs, revenue growth and per-capita income. A revised framework should reflect this reality.

Third, off-balance-sheet liabilities—particularly in power, transport and urban infrastructure—should be fully consolidated. Hidden debt undermines accountability and delays adjustment.

Fourth, incentives must be aligned. States that manage debt prudently and grow incomes faster should be rewarded through lower borrowing costs or greater autonomy.

Finally, India must accelerate urban productivity. Cities remain the country’s most underutilised growth engine. Property taxation, user charges and municipal finance reform are essential to reducing pressure on state balance sheets.

A Narrowing Window

India’s public debt is not yet a binding constraint. But the margin for error is shrinking. Over time, the difference between debt that enables growth and debt that merely sustains spending becomes decisive.

International comparisons offer a clear lesson. Economies such as Vietnam and Taiwan show how disciplined borrowing can support long-term prosperity. Others illustrate the costs of postponing adjustment.

India still has the opportunity to choose the former path. Whether it does so will depend less on national ambition than on how its states choose to borrow, invest and reform.