Helsenki

 At Heureka, the Finnish Science Centre, near Helsinki. It is especially memorable because of its interactive exhibits—you don't merely look at displays; many exhibits make you part of the experiment.

But the eye-tracking exhibit 

Helsinki — where science becomes an experience

What makes Helsinki's museums interesting is that several of them go beyond the traditional “look at an object and read its label” approach.

Heureka is a wonderful example. Science is presented through experiments, movement, perception and interaction. Visitors can test phenomena themselves and discover that things we take for granted—vision, balance, motion, the human body and the laws of physics—can behave in surprising ways.

The eye-tracking display is particularly fascinating. Eye-tracking technology can record exactly where a person's gaze moves, including the sequence and duration of attention. That turns the visitor's own eyes into an experimental instrument.

Helsinki — A City of Design, Curiosity and Surprises 

Finland had many surprises for us, and Helsinki was one of them.

Helsinki is a city that seems to combine modernity with a quiet respect for history, design and nature. Among the places we visited was a museum that I found particularly interesting. Like many European museums, it did not merely display objects—it seemed to invite you to look, observe and think.

Our Finnish experience began not in Helsinki, but in Stockholm.

We took a cruise ship from Stockholm to Finland, crossing the Baltic Sea. The journey itself became part of the holiday. There is something very special about travelling by sea through the Nordic landscape, watching the islands and stretches of water pass quietly by.

But we also had quite a different experience on the water—a thrilling fast-boat ride. The boat skimmed across the surface so swiftly that the water seemed to break into ripples around us. It was exhilarating and completely different from the leisurely pace of the cruise ship.

From the calm grandeur of the cruise to the excitement of the fast boat, the journey itself gave us two contrasting ways of experiencing the Baltic.

Then came Finland and Helsinki, with its museums, its distinctive architecture and its fascinating blend of modern life and nature.

Our Nordic journey also included Stockholm, where we visited the impressive hall associated with the Nobel Prize ceremonies. Standing in such a distinguished place was memorable. The Nobel tradition represents something much larger than the ceremony itself—the recognition of human curiosity, discovery and achievement.

The Helsinki science museum —three remarkable exhibits

Gaze Scan Path — the machine followed your eyes and showed the route your gaze took across an image.

The Bicycle on the Thin Rope — demonstrating balance and equilibrium, with the wonderful warning not to bend down to retrieve anything that fell from your pocket! Assuring us if we rode the cycle we would not fall but if something from our pocket fell they would retrieve it for us.

The Giant Table — when you sat in the designated position, you appeared tiny while the cups, saucers and kettle looked enormous. Reminded of Alice in wonderlands mad tea party.

One of the most memorable experiences of our Finnish visit, however, was not  only

inside a museum at all.

We went up to one of the highest points from where people begin their skiing runs. Of course, we did not climb up ourselves—we took the lift! Looking down from that height, with the landscape spread out below us, gave us a completely different feeling for the northern countryside. For those who ski, the descent must be exhilarating. For us, the lift itself was quite an experience.

The Nordic countries have a special relationship with winter. Snow is not merely something to be endured; it becomes part of life, recreation and even identity. Watching people prepare for skiing made that very clear.

Another memory from our Nordic journey was visiting the impressive hall associated with the Nobel Prize ceremonies. The grandeur and dignity of the place left a strong impression on me. There was something deeply moving about standing in a space connected with the recognition of people whose discoveries, ideas and work have influenced the world.

What I remember most about these visits is not simply the buildings or exhibits. It is the feeling of entering places where human curiosity, creativity and achievement are celebrated.

That, perhaps, is what made our Nordic journey so memorable. Nature provided the vast landscape; museums preserved human creativity; and places like the Nobel hall reminded us of what the human mind can achieve.

Finland gave us more than beautiful scenery. It gave us moments of wonder.

Aaradhana

 शून्य से एक शतक बनते, अंक की मन भावना ।

भारती की जय-विजय हो, ले हृदय में प्रेरणा ।।

कर रहे हम साधना, मातृभू आराधना ।

दैव ने भी राम प्रभु हित, लक्ष्य था ऐसा विचारा ,

कंटको के मार्ग चलकर, राम ने रावण संहारा,

ताकि निष्कंटक रहे, हर देव ऋषि की साधना ।।१।।

कर रहे हम साधना, मातृभू आराधना ।

ध्येय हित ही एक ऋषि ने, देह को दीपक बनाया, 

और तिल तिल जल स्वयं ने, कोटी दीपों को जलाया, 

ध्येय पथ पर चल पड़े, ले उर विजय की कामना ।।२।।

कर रहे हम साधना, मातृभू आराधना ।

विजीगीषा का भाव लेकर, देश में स्वतंत्र्य आया,

बने समरस राष्ट्र भारत, बोध यह दायित्व लाया,

छल कपट और भेद से था, राष्ट्र जन को तारना ।३।

कर रहे हम साधना, मातृभू आराधना ।

धर्म संस्कृति है सनातन, रखे जल-वायु सुहावन,

पंक्ति में पीछे खड़े का, उन्नयन हो नित्य भावन,

राष्ट्र का उत्थान साधन, विश्व मंगल कामना ।।४।।

कर रहे हम साधना, मातृभू आराधना ।

शून्य से एक शतक बनते, अंक की मन भावना ।

भारती की जय-विजय हो, ले हृदय में प्रेरणा ।।

कर रहे हम साधना, मातृभू आराधना ।

The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) centenary celebrations, marking 100 years of the organisation in 2025–26. It is circulating under the refrain “कर रहे हम साधना, मातृभू आराधना”. 

Meaning of the song

The central idea is beautifully expressed in the refrain:

“कर रहे हम साधना, मातृभू आराधना”

We are engaged in disciplined effort and in worship/service of our Motherland.

The opening couplet says:

“शून्य से एक शतक बनते…”

From zero to a century—the organisation has completed 100 years. The number 100 is not merely a number; it represents a century of sustained effort.

“भारती की जय-विजय हो, ले हृदय में प्रेरणा”

May Mother Bharati (India) triumph; let this aspiration inspire our hearts.

Verse 1 — Rama's struggle

The song then takes Sri Rama as the first example.

God's purpose was that Rama should act for the welfare of the world. Rama had to walk a thorn-filled path before defeating Ravana.

The important message is:

Great purposes are rarely achieved by an easy path. Difficulties must be accepted as part of the journey.

The ultimate purpose of Rama's struggle was that sages and others could once again pursue their spiritual practices without fear or obstruction.

Verse 2 — The Rishi who became a lamp

This is perhaps the most beautiful stanza.

“देह को दीपक बनाया, और तिल-तिल जल स्वयं ने, कोटी दीपों को जलाया”

A great rishi made his own body into a lamp. By burning himself little by little, he was able to light millions of other lamps.

The metaphor is powerful:

One person's sacrifice can awaken countless others.

The individual does not live merely for himself; he becomes a source of light for society.

Verse 3 — Independence and responsibility

The song moves from the past to modern India.

The spirit of vijigīṣā—the determination to achieve victory and overcome obstacles—helped bring independence.

But independence brought another responsibility:

India must become a harmonious nation.

The country has to be freed from:

deceit and hypocrisy,

divisions,

internal differences,

forces that keep society fragmented.

So freedom is not the end of the journey; nation-building begins with freedom.

Verse 4 — The larger ideal

The final stanza expands the vision beyond nationalism.

“धर्म संस्कृति है सनातन”

Our dharma and culture are eternal.

But this is immediately connected with practical responsibilities:

“रखे जल-वायु सुहावन”

Keep the water and air clean and pleasant.

And this line is especially significant:

“पंक्ति में पीछे खड़े का, उन्नयन हो नित्य भावन”

The person standing at the back of the queue should also be lifted up.

In other words, national progress cannot mean that only the fortunate advance. The last person must also rise.

And the final aspiration is:

“राष्ट्र का उत्थान साधन, विश्व मंगल कामना”

The uplift of the nation is the means, but the ultimate prayer is the welfare of the whole world.

In one sentence

The song says:

A hundred years of national service is not a celebration of an achievement alone; it is a renewal of the commitment to sacrifice, harmony, cultural continuity, service to the less privileged, national progress and ultimately the welfare of the entire world.

the central idea is that a life becomes meaningful when it becomes a lamp for others.

School series 60

 Part 4 — An Ancient Collection in a Modern City

Le Corbusier's Chandigarh Museum

There is a beautiful irony at the heart of Chandigarh's museum.

Inside a building representing India's modern future are treasures carrying thousands of years of its past.

Chandigarh itself was conceived after Independence as a symbol of a new India. The city was planned by the Swiss-French architect Le Corbusier, with a radically modern vision of architecture, roads, neighbourhoods and public spaces.

The Government Museum and Art Gallery became part of this new cultural landscape.

The building was designed by Le Corbusier and opened in 1968.

But its contents could hardly be more different from the architecture surrounding them.

Inside are:

Ancient Gandharan sculptures

Indian stone sculpture

Pahari and Rajasthani miniature paintings

Metal sculpture

Decorative arts and other treasures

Many of these objects had already travelled a remarkable distance before arriving here.

They had belonged to collections in Lahore, survived Partition, crossed into India and moved through several temporary locations before finally reaching Chandigarh.

And now they were given a permanent home in a city that itself was barely two decades old.

Two Indias meet

This is what makes the museum so fascinating.

Outside: reinforced concrete, geometric forms, modern urban planning and Le Corbusier's vision of the future.

Inside: Buddhas carved centuries ago, miniature paintings, traditional sculpture and objects made by craftsmen following ancient traditions.

It is almost as though the building is saying:

A modern India does not have to abandon its ancient India.

It can carry both.

The museum therefore became more than a place to preserve objects. It became a bridge between heritage and modernity.

And perhaps that is the perfect ending to our Chandigarh story.

A collection displaced by Partition eventually found its home in a city created after Partition.

History had divided the collection.

A new India gave it a home.

And today, a visitor walking through those galleries can quietly travel through two thousand years of Indian art without leaving Chandigarh.

Chandigarh in our museum journey

From the Salar Jung Museum's extraordinary private collection, to Mysore's Raja Ravi Varma, to Pune's railway heritage, and now Chandigarh's collection born from Partition, each museum has revealed a completely different face of India.

That is what makes museums so wonderful: they do not merely preserve the past—they allow the past to speak.

School series 59

 Part 3 — India's Metal Masters

The Magic of Indian Bronzes

If the Gandharan sculptures tell us about cultural exchange, India's bronze sculptures tell us about something else—the extraordinary mastery of the Indian metalworker.

The Government Museum and Art Gallery, Chandigarh has an important collection of Indian metal sculpture. Among India's greatest achievements in this field is the tradition of bronze casting by the lost-wax method.

How was it done?

The sculptor first created the entire figure in beeswax mixed with other materials.

Every detail had to be perfect—the face, ornaments, fingers, folds of clothing and even the expression.

The wax model was then covered with layers of clay and heated.

The wax melted and flowed out, leaving behind a hollow mould.

Into this mould the craftsman poured molten metal.

When the mould was broken open, the sculpture emerged.

And here is the astonishing part:

The mould could normally be used only once.

So each finished bronze was, in a very real sense, unique.

The sculptor could not simply reproduce it from the same mould.

More than craftsmanship

Indian bronze images were not merely decorative objects.

Many were created as sacred images, particularly for temples.

The sculptor therefore had to follow prescribed proportions, gestures (mudras), attributes and iconographic rules. The image had to be both beautiful and theologically correct.

This is especially visible in the great tradition of South Indian bronzes.

The most celebrated example is Nataraja, Shiva as the cosmic dancer.

The circle of flames represents the universe and the cycles of creation and destruction. One foot dances upon the dwarf representing apasmara, often understood as ignorance. The raised foot offers release, while the gestures communicate protection and assurance.

A sculpture that appears to be frozen in metal is therefore actually expressing movement, rhythm and cosmic energy.

The genius of the Indian craftsman

What amazes me most is that these artists were working without modern machinery.

They had to understand:

wax → mould → temperature → molten metal → cooling → finishing → polishing

and, above everything, human anatomy and sacred proportions.

The result was not simply a metal object.

It was sculpture, engineering, mathematics, craftsmanship and spirituality brought together in one form.

And this brings us back to our Chandigarh museum.

Its collection allows us to move through very different chapters of India's artistic history—from Gandhara's stone Buddhas to India's extraordinary metal traditions.

The materials changed.

The centuries changed.

The artistic influences changed.

But one thing remained remarkably constant:

India's ability to turn an object into an idea.

Part 4 — Le Corbusier's Museum: How an Ancient Collection Found a Home in Modern Chandigarh.

School series 58

 Part 2 — Gandhara: Where India Met the Classical World

The most extraordinary part of the Chandigarh museum's inherited collection is perhaps its Gandharan art.

Gandhara was an ancient region centred around parts of present-day north-west Pakistan and eastern Afghanistan. Between roughly the 1st and 5th centuries CE, it became one of the great centres of Buddhist art.

What makes Gandhara fascinating is its unusual visual language.

Here, Indian Buddhist ideas encountered the artistic traditions of the wider Hellenistic world that had reached this region after the campaigns of Alexander and subsequent Indo-Greek and Kushan rule.

The result was something remarkable.

The Buddha acquires a human face

Earlier Buddhist art often represented the Buddha symbolically—through the Bodhi tree, footprints, Dharma wheel or an empty throne.

Gandharan artists increasingly represented him in human form.

And look closely at these sculptures.

The Buddha has:

Deeply carved, wavy hair

A calm, almost classical face

Carefully modelled anatomy

Heavy, flowing robes

Deep folds in the drapery

The robes are particularly striking. They fall in numerous parallel folds, giving the stone almost the appearance of fabric.

Yet the philosophy expressed through that face is profoundly Buddhist:

serenity, detachment and compassion.

But was Gandhara simply "Greek art in India"?

No.

That would make the story far too simple.

The artists borrowed and transformed visual traditions from several cultures. Gandharan art reflects Indian Buddhist themes combined with Hellenistic, Roman, Iranian and Central Asian influences.

It was a true crossroads.

And this is why the sculptures are so important.

They show us that ancient India was not an isolated civilisation. Ideas, artists, merchants and artistic traditions travelled across enormous distances.

The Kushan Empire, which controlled much of this region, helped create an environment in which these cultural exchanges flourished.

And then comes the remarkable connection to Chandigarh

Many Gandharan sculptures in the Chandigarh museum belong to the collection that came from the old Lahore museum after Partition.

So the journey is extraordinary:

Gandhara → centuries of history → Lahore → Partition → India → Chandigarh.

A sculpture created nearly two thousand years ago therefore carries not only the story of Buddhism and artistic exchange, but also the story of Partition and preservation.

That is why, when we look at a Gandharan Buddha in Chandigarh, we are looking at far more than an ancient statue.

We are looking at India through the eyes of an artist who lived at one of the great crossroads of the ancient world.

Part 3 — India's Metal Masters: The Lost-Wax Tradition and the Magic of Indian Bronzes.

School series 57

  The Museum That Came From Lahore

CHANDIGARH'S GOVERNMENT MUSEUM & ART GALLERY

A Collection Divided by Partition

There is something deeply moving about the Government Museum and Art Gallery, Chandigarh.

Many museums begin with a ruler's collection, a scholar's passion or an archaeological excavation. Chandigarh's museum has a different story. Part of its collection came to India because history itself had been divided.

Before Independence, Lahore was an important centre of art, archaeology and scholarship. Its museum housed a remarkable collection representing the artistic heritage of the Indian subcontinent.

Then came Partition in 1947.

The museum collections had to be divided between India and Pakistan. A substantial portion of the Indian share—particularly Gandharan sculptures and miniature paintings—was brought across the new border.

But the collection had no permanent home.

It travelled from Lahore to Amritsar, then to Shimla and Patiala, before finally reaching the newly created city of Chandigarh.

For years, these precious objects were essentially a collection without a proper home.

Finally, Chandigarh provided one.

The museum building was designed as part of the new Chandigarh conceived by Le Corbusier and was inaugurated in 1968.

So when we walk through its galleries today, we are not simply looking at sculptures and paintings.

We are looking at pieces of India's artistic inheritance that survived one of the greatest upheavals in modern history.

Among them are magnificent Gandharan sculptures, ancient Indian sculpture, Pahari and Rajasthani miniatures and other works of art.

And there is a particularly poignant thought:

The political map changed.

The borders changed.

But the art carried across that border remained a part of the cultural history of the same civilisation.

That is what makes Chandigarh's museum special.

It is, in a sense, a museum of memory.

Part 2: Gandhara — Where Indian Buddhism Met the Classical World

School series 56

 MYSURU: WHERE RAJA RAVI VARMA MEETS THE WORLD

There are museums that preserve history.

And then there are museums that seem to open a window into an entire civilisation.

The Jayachamarajendra Art Gallery, housed in the magnificent Jaganmohan Palace in Mysuru, is one such place.

Jaganmohan Palace was built in 1861 by Maharaja Mummadi Krishnaraja Wodeyar. The palace was converted into a museum in 1915 and today houses an extraordinary collection of paintings, musical instruments, royal objects and other works of art.

But for me, its greatest attraction is its collection of Raja Ravi Varma's paintings.

RAJA RAVI VARMA — THE ARTIST WHO CHANGED INDIA

Raja Ravi Varma (1848–1906) brought something revolutionary to Indian art.

He combined the techniques of European academic oil painting—perspective, realistic anatomy, light and shadow—with subjects drawn from India's own imagination: the Ramayana, Mahabharata, Puranas and the lives of India's gods and heroes.

For the first time, figures that had lived for centuries in temples, manuscripts and oral traditions could appear before ordinary people as almost living human beings.

Sita, Damayanti, Shakuntala, Krishna and Saraswati were no longer distant mythological figures.

They had faces.

They had expressions.

They seemed to breathe.

THE ROYAL CONNECTION

The Mysore court became an important patron of Ravi Varma.

The Jaganmohan Palace gallery today has 16 original Ravi Varma paintings, including Malabar Lady, Sairandhri, Victory of Meghanatha, Lady in Moonlight, Sucking Child and Harishchandra.

Standing before these paintings, one can almost imagine the Mysore court of another age—where art was not decoration but an important part of royal culture.

And this is what makes the Mysuru collection special.

We are not simply looking at paintings by a famous artist.

We are looking at a moment when Indian art was changing.

FROM PALACES TO ORDINARY HOMES

But Ravi Varma's greatest revolution happened outside the palace.

He realised that a painting could reach only a few people, but a print could reach thousands.

His establishment of the Ravi Varma Press transformed the way Indians encountered art. Chromolithographic prints reproduced his paintings in colour and carried images of Hindu gods, goddesses and mythological scenes into homes across India.

Art was no longer confined to royal courts, galleries and wealthy homes.

It entered ordinary Indian households.

It entered prayer rooms.

It entered popular culture.

And perhaps that is the most extraordinary legacy of Raja Ravi Varma.

He did not merely paint India. He helped India see itself.

A PERSONAL CONNECTION

There is something particularly fascinating about this story for us.

The Ravi Varma images that travelled across India through prints eventually became part of the visual world of countless Indian homes.

So when we see a Ravi Varma image today, we may not be looking at an original painting.

We may be looking at the descendant of an extraordinary nineteenth-century idea:

Take great art out of the palace and put it into the hands of the people.

That is why Ravi Varma remains so important.

He stood at the meeting point of royalty and the common man, tradition and modernity, Indian mythology and European technique, original painting and mass reproduction.

And in Mysuru, inside the old Jaganmohan Palace, that story can still be seen on the walls.

Perhaps that is the real museum.

Not just a collection of objects—

but a glimpse of how India learned to carry its own stories into the modern age.