20th July: Between a Briefcase and the Moon


There are some dates on the calendar that quietly gather meanings over a lifetime. For me, 20th July is one of them.

As a child in Delhi, I was fascinated by the Second World War. That fascination began at home. My father had an extraordinary gift for storytelling, and through his words I travelled to battlefields, cities in ruins and moments when the fate of the world seemed to rest on the decisions of a handful of people. Those stories led me to books, documentaries and films, and much later, to Berlin itself.

Over the years, I visited Berlin many times. Once, I even stayed in what had once been East Berlin, long after the Wall had disappeared. Yet the city still carried memories that no bulldozer could erase. Every street seemed to whisper history. Years ago, I wrote a blog titled Those Faces of Berlin (https://esgeemusings.com/2013/04/01/those-faces-of-berlin/ )  , reflecting on that remarkable city and, among other things, the failed attempt by Claus von Stauffenberg and his fellow conspirators to assassinate Hitler with a bomb hidden in a briefcase on 20th July 1944.

Operation Valkyrie failed. Hitler survived. Many of those who dared to resist paid with their lives. Yet what has stayed with me is not merely the failure of the plot but the courage behind it. Sometimes history remembers victories. Sometimes it remembers those who knew they would probably lose, yet chose to act because conscience demanded nothing less.

Bendlerblock, Berlin – Where the conspirators were executed

Exactly twenty-five years later, on another 20th July, humanity wrote a very different chapter.

I was a small boy then. I still remember my father listening intently to the live broadcast of the Apollo 11 Moon landing on the Voice of America. Later that day, we went to the United States Information Service near Mandi House in New Delhi to see the full-size replica of the Lunar Module. Like countless others of my generation, I stared at it in wonder. For days afterwards, our classroom conversations revolved around rockets, astronauts and a future that suddenly seemed limitless. Even 2001: A Space Odyssey, set what then felt like the distant future, no longer appeared to be science fiction.

Apollo 11 Lunar Module on the moon

It strikes me that these two events, separated by a quarter of a century yet sharing the same date, reveal the astonishing range of the human spirit.

On one 20th July, people risked everything to rid the world of tyranny. On another, human beings stepped onto another world altogether.

One date reminds us of humanity’s darkest impulses. The other celebrates its brightest possibilities.

Perhaps that is why every year, when 20th July arrives, I think not only of history but also of choice. We are capable of building dictatorships, and we are capable of building spacecraft. We can choose fear, or we can choose courage. We can remain trapped by our past, or we can reach for horizons that once seemed impossible. History does not merely tell us who we were. It quietly asks us who we wish to become.

What does 20th July evoke for you—a lesson from history, or a reminder of humanity’s endless capacity to dream?

In musing…… Shakti Ghosal

The Match That Refused to Become a Classic


Or perhaps, more truthfully…   The Night Football Taught Me One Last Lesson

For days, the build-up had been impossible to escape. Argentina versus Spain, the reigning World Champions against the reigning European Champions. Kolkata itself seemed to be preparing for battle. Giant screens were being erected across the city, clubs announced that their bars would remain open well past midnight, and even the Chief Minister joined the excitement by supporting public screenings across the districts.

My wife and I prepared with equal seriousness. Dinner was served early. Television was politely ignored. We even resisted the temptation of “just one episode” of our favourite series. Sleep was carefully scheduled like a military operation. For once, my biological clock decided to cooperate. I woke up five minutes before the alarm, feeling rather pleased with myself. If only Argentina had been equally punctual…….

From the opening whistle, Spain looked every inch the team we had admired throughout the tournament. Their passing was crisp, their movement effortless and their control of the midfield almost hypnotic. Watching Rodri and company was like watching expert chess players move pieces three moves ahead.

Argentina, on the other hand, looked strangely burdened. The flowing football that had carried them to the final had vanished. Passes went astray. Clearances seemed to arrive at Spanish feet with remarkable generosity. Creativity had apparently decided to sleep in, unlike me. The longer the match went on, the stranger it became. This was supposed to be a feast, instead, it felt like waiting for fireworks that stubbornly refused to ignite. Only one man seemed determined to keep Argentina alive, Emiliano Martínez, the Goal Keeper. Save after magnificent save, he single-handedly prevented the scoreline from becoming embarrassing. Had the trophy been awarded to goalkeepers alone, the ceremony could have ended much earlier.

Half-time came. Then full-time. Still no goals. Argentina was eventually reduced to ten men after a red card, and one could almost sense the inevitable drawing closer. In the second half of extra time, Ferran Torres finally found the breakthrough that Spain had threatened all night. It proved enough. Argentina launched one desperate final assault. Messi searched for one last moment of magic. Instead, his final effort struck a Spanish defender before the whistle brought an end not just to the match, but almost certainly to one of the greatest World Cup careers football has ever witnessed.

The image that stayed with me was Messi sitting quietly on the turf. Sometimes silence speaks louder than celebration. As I finally went back to bed at nearly four in the morning, I realised that football had once again wandered into philosophy. Every once in a while, we meet someone—or some team—that is simply better on that particular day. There is no shame in acknowledging excellence. In fact, there is wisdom in it. Spain didn’t win because Argentina failed. Spain won because they played almost the perfect tournament. And perhaps that is the hardest lesson of all. Not every disappointment is the result of our shortcomings. Sometimes, someone else simply deserves the applause……

Even if, somewhere in Kolkata, two sleep-deprived football fans quietly wished the ending had been different.

In musing….                                                             Shakti Ghosal

The Future Doesn’t Arrive All at Once


A piece from the Newspaper

When I wrote 2056: The Year of the Water and Fire, I imagined a Bengal where climate change was no longer an environmental issue. It had become a way of life.

This newspaper report made me pause.

It says that Kolkata now loses around 80 hours of sleep every year because of rising night-time temperatures. Think about that for a moment. Climate change is no longer confined to distant glaciers, rising seas or violent cyclones. It is quietly entering our bedrooms, stealing our sleep, affecting our health, our emotions, and perhaps even the way we think.

The future, I have often felt, rarely announces itself dramatically. It arrives in small, almost unnoticed ways.

A warmer night.
A little less sleep.
A little less patience.
A little more fatigue.

Until one day, we realise that what we once called unusual has quietly become normal.

In 2056: The Year of the Water and Fire, I explored what might happen when rising waters, stronger storms and changing climates begin to reshape not just our landscape, but our choices, our communities and our humanity.

Perhaps the greatest lesson is this:

Climate change is no longer about saving the planet. It is about preserving the quality of human life on it.

The Earth will endure.

The question is whether we will learn to adapt before adaptation is forced upon us.

#ClimateChange #GlobalWarming #Kolkata #2056TheYearOfWaterAndFire #TheLastWriterOfKolkata #SpeculativeFiction  #FutureOfHumanity #Sustainability #ThoughtsThatMatter

When the Clock Betrays You… Never Write Off Argentina


Through the day, there was only one topic of conversation. Argentina or England? By the time my wife and I had finished watching the latest episode of The House of Dragons, there were only a few hours left before the World Cup semi-final. We confidently announced that we’d catch a quick nap and wake up well before kick-off.

The alarm, unfortunately, had other plans. When the bedroom television finally came alive, nearly thirty minutes had already slipped away. My first reaction wasn’t about the score. It was guilt. Had we actually overslept for an Argentina-England World Cup semi-final? Thankfully, the scoreboard still read 0-0, and I immediately forgave both the alarm and myself.

What followed was football at its very best.  The game flowed from one end to the other like a pendulum that simply refused to stop. Messi was being shadowed wherever he went. Harry Kane was equally well marshalled. Every pass seemed contested. Every tackle carried purpose. By half-time, neither side had blinked. Then England struck. A beautifully crafted move. A superb finish. The silence that followed in our bedroom was broken only by my wife’s heartfelt groan. As an  Argentina supporter, she looked as though someone had just cancelled the World Cup. I was slightly more optimistic. Not because I possessed superior football wisdom. Simply because this Argentinian team had developed an irritating habit of refusing to read the script.

Still, the clock became increasingly unfriendly. Substitutions came and went. England defended bravely. Argentina attacked relentlessly. Even Lady Luck seemed to have swapped jerseys. Two glorious Argentine efforts crashed against the woodwork and bounced away, as though the goalposts themselves had decided to support England for the evening. Even Messi glanced skywards in disbelief.

Then, almost out of nowhere, came a moment of genius. One exquisite pass from Messi. One emphatic finish from Enzo Fernández. One nation breathed again. The equaliser transformed the match. England suddenly looked like a team trying to survive a storm rather than play football. Wave after wave of Argentine attacks followed, until, deep into stoppage time, Lautaro Martínez rose above everyone to head home the winner from another sublime Messi delivery. From despair to delirium in barely seven minutes.

As the celebrations began, my thoughts wandered to Harry Kane and the English players. They had played with courage, discipline and enormous heart. Sometimes football can be wonderfully unfair. It rewards ninety-five minutes of resilience with ninety seconds of heartbreak. Perhaps that is why we keep watching. Football reminds me that life is rarely decided when we think it is. We often mistake a difficult chapter for the final page. Champions don’t possess a magical immunity against adversity. They simply refuse to believe that the story has ended until the very last whistle.

And there was one final lesson from the night. Never trust an alarm clock before a World Cup semi-final. It may let you sleep.

In Musing…… Shakti Ghosal

Another night. Another World Cup. Another reminder that sport is often life, compressed into ninety minutes.


Just after midnight, my wife switched on the bedroom television.

“We’ll watch for a little while,” we told ourselves.

It was well past 2:00 a.m. when we finally went to sleep.

Some football matches don’t merely decide who reaches a World Cup final. They quietly dismantle the assumptions we carry into them.

Like millions around the world, I had convinced myself that France would find a way. Kylian Mbappé had been in breathtaking form throughout the tournament. The media had almost made it sound inevitable that France would be playing in the final.

But football has an inconvenient habit of ignoring predictions. Spain didn’t just beat France 2-0. They educated them.

From the opening whistle, Spain controlled the rhythm of the game as though they were conducting an orchestra. Rodri, Fabián Ruiz and Dani Olmo seemed to have all the time in the world. Every French pass near the Spanish goal arrived a fraction too late. Every misplaced touch was punished. Every attempt to speed up the game was calmly absorbed before Spain slowed it down again.

What impressed me most was not Spain’s goals. It was their patience.

In an age where everyone celebrates speed, Spain reminded us that control is often the greater strength. They never appeared hurried. They trusted the process, trusted each other and trusted the game plan.

Perhaps the most striking moment came after the final whistle. There were no excuses. Mbappé admitted that France had been outplayed. He spoke of the tactical shortcomings, the lack of communication, the technical mistakes and Spain’s superiority in controlling the midfield. It takes courage to win. It takes even greater courage to lose with honesty.

That, for me, was the lesson of the night. Spain didn’t produce magic. They produced mastery.

As I finally switched off the television sometime after two in the morning, I realised that the World Cup had once again offered a lesson far beyond football. The game does not always belong to the team with the biggest stars. Sometimes, it belongs to the team that plays the better game. And perhaps life works that way too.

In musing…… Shakti Ghosal

The Promise We Break Most Often


The strongest form of accountability isn’t to your boss. It’s to yourself.

I still remember a conversation with a young manager many years ago. He had walked into my office carrying a notebook filled with plans.

“I don’t understand myself,” he confided, almost apologetically. “Every New Year I make a list. I promise myself I’ll exercise regularly, read more, spend time with my family, learn a new skill…” He then smiled sheepishly. “By March, I’ve broken most of those promises. Even though I had genuinely meant every word when I wrote those goals.”

I laughed at that. “So have millions of others. Including myself when I was your age.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Tell me,” I asked, “if your Managing Director asked you to submit a report by Monday, would you?  Or if your biggest customer expected you at a meeting at ten o’clock?” Or if your child was waiting for you at the school annual function?”

“Of Course! I would do all of those and on time.”

I smiled, “So you’re very good at keeping promises.”

He looked confused. “No,” he replied. “I just told you I’m terrible at it.”

I reassured him, ” I would say you’re excellent at keeping promises to other people. You just struggle to keep promises to your own self.”

He looked at me for a long moment before quietly admitting, “I’ve never thought about it that way.”

Well to be frank, neither had I, until years earlier when someone had challenged me with the same question. The truth is, most of us don’t lose confidence because we fail. We lose confidence because we repeatedly break our own word.

Every time we say to ourself, ‘I’ll start tomorrow,’ and tomorrow becomes next week… Every time we promise ourselves, we’ll make time for our health, our family, our learning or our dreams… and then quietly move them to the bottom of the list…

Something invisible starts happening. Our self-trust begins to erode. Others may still trust us. Our colleagues may admire our reliability. Our clients may praise our commitment. But somewhere inside, we begin to doubt ourselves. Not because we lack ability. But because we’ve stopped believing our own promises.

I came out of my reverie with a start; my colleague was looking at me thoughtfully. “So, accountability isn’t really about someone checking up on me?” he asked.

I shook my head. “That’s compliance. Accountability is much more personal. It is choosing to become someone whose word matters—even when no one else is listening.”

As he stood up to leave, he closed his notebook and smiled, “I think I’ve been writing goals. What I really needed was to start keeping promises.”

That conversation has stayed with me ever since. The older I grow, the more I realise that confidence is not built through motivational speeches or inspirational books. It is built quietly. One kept promise at a time. Perhaps that is why integrity is such a powerful word. It doesn’t begin with how faithfully we honour our commitments to others. It begins with how faithfully we honour the commitments we make to ourselves.

Because the person listening most carefully to every promise you make… is you.

In musing…..                                            Shakti Ghosal

#accountability, #Integrity, #selfpromise, #goalkeeping

Beyond Resilience: Some Reflections on India’s Economic Story


I found the Chief Economic Adviser’s article on the subject both reassuring and well argued. It reminds us that India’s economy today is certainly stronger than it was during earlier crises. Better macroeconomic management, diversified energy sources, healthy foreign exchange reserves and timely policy interventions have undoubtedly made us more resilient.

Yet, as I finished reading, I was left with a few thoughts.

The first is that we should be careful not to confuse resilience with invincibility.

This particular crisis ended before it could become truly prolonged. Oil prices eased, shipping stabilised and global markets regained their footing. Had the conflict continued for another few months, the pressures on inflation, fiscal balances and household budgets would have been much harder to manage. Good policy deserves credit, but so does good fortune.

Secondly, the article understandably highlights the role of government.

 Equally deserving of recognition, in my view, is the quiet transformation of Indian industry. Over the past decade, businesses have learnt to diversify suppliers, manage inventories better, hedge risks and adapt far more quickly than before. Much of India’s resilience today rests as much in its boardrooms as in North Block.

The article also reminded me that our biggest vulnerabilities remain largely unchanged. We continue to depend heavily on imported crude oil, fertilisers, semiconductor components and several critical minerals. These are strategic dependencies that no amount of short-term policy management can fully offset.

Perhaps the most important takeaway, however, lies elsewhere.

The Gulf conflict is unlikely to be the last major disruption we face. If anything, geopolitical tensions, climate events, cyber risks and technological disruptions are becoming the new normal. The question, therefore, is not whether India can survive the next crisis. It is whether we can prepare for it before it arrives.

That, to me, should be the next chapter of India’s economic story.

We need to move beyond resilience and build anticipation. Greater energy independence, stronger manufacturing capabilities, lower logistics costs, globally competitive skills and deeper investments in future technologies will matter even more than crisis management. Equally important is developing the ability to think in scenarios rather than forecasts—to prepare for multiple possible futures instead of assuming that tomorrow will resemble yesterday.

The article rightly celebrates how far India has come. I would simply add that the journey ahead will demand a different mindset. The winners of the next decade will not necessarily be those who recover fastest from shocks, but those who see them coming first and are ready before everyone else.

That, I believe, is the real opportunity before India. It is no longer enough to be resilient. We must become anticipatory.

In musing….. Shakti Ghosal

When Time Took the Hill Road to Kurseong


Nirvan Retreat- Where time stalls till

A couple of weeks ago, over an evening drink at the Calcutta Cricket and Football Club (CCFC), a friend casually mentioned Kurseong. The name somehow lingered long after the conversation had moved on. Ever since my ankle surgery earlier this year, I had been dreaming of escaping to a quiet corner wrapped in green, where the loudest sound would be birdsong and the fastest thing in sight would be drifting clouds. I scarcely had to drop hints to my wife Sanchita, she was more than ready and Kurseong quickly graduated from dream to destination.

Four nights at the Nirvana Retreat ( it advertises itself as the place where time stands still) were booked, followed by the to-and-fro flights to Bagdogra. The monsoon tossed our aircraft around just enough to remind us who was really in charge, but we landed safely and were soon winding our way up the hills. Every bend seemed to reveal another postcard—the tea gardens, little hillside homes, and forests wearing a soft veil of mist.

The long and winding road…..

Our balcony overlooked towering pine trees standing like silent soldiers in green-grey uniforms, their pointed helmets disappearing into drifting clouds. Kolkata, with its humidity, traffic and relentless pace, already felt like another country. There was no television worth watching here. Nature had taken over the programming.

oplus_262176

The hills invited long walks, but wisdom prevailed over enthusiasm. Recovering knees have a language of their own and mine spoke with remarkable clarity. So, instead of trying to conquer the hills, we surrendered to them. We embraced a different adventure—the increasingly rare luxury of doing very little, and doing it without feeling guilty.

Each morning began with meditation on the balcony as the mist slowly swallowed the pines before releasing them again, almost playfully. Unknown birds held conversations in a language neither of us understood, yet somehow it all made perfect sense. Then came our familiar ritual: the kettle on, two cups of fragrant Darjeeling tea, and unhurried conversations that needed no destination. We discovered that silence, shared with someone you have known for years, can sometimes be more eloquent than words.

Breakfast was delightfully confused—hot puris and sabzi giving way to eggs sunny side up, toast, sausages and the incomparable Makaibari tea. The ever-smiling staff seemed personally invested in ensuring that no guest left the dining room even remotely hungry. Resistance, we soon discovered, was entirely futile.

We faithfully visited Dow Hill School on behalf of a friend who had boarded there during his childhood, only to be politely prevented from entering those hallowed precincts by an immovable security guard. Some memories, it would seem, are best revisited through stories rather than school gates.

Dow Hill school

The mist also conspired against us at Eagle’s Crag and the Chimney, ensuring that the famous panoramic views remained a matter of imagination. Yet the ancient pine forests more than compensated. Walking beneath those towering trees, lovingly planted by the British generations ago, one could not help but marvel at how some acts of planting outlive the people who planted them.

Kurseong Chimney
A Pine Forest of Kurseong

A description of Kurseong would be incomplete without mentioning the historic Hill Cart Road—the town’s bustling lifeline where shops, cafés and homes jostle for space, and where the iconic Darjeeling Himalayan Railway toy train track (did not see the train passing through when we were there) meanders through the streets with unhurried confidence. As pedestrians and vehicles patiently made their way, it felt like watching history politely negotiate with the present.

The highlight for me, however, was the Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose Museum. His letters, photographs and personal artefacts quietly brought history to life, reminding us that extraordinary lives are often built upon ordinary moments of conviction and courage.

Netaji Subhas Bose’s address as President of Congress Party

We returned with few spectacular photographs but something far more valuable—a reminder that the finest journeys are not always about seeing more. Sometimes they are about slowing down enough to see ourselves again. In a world forever urging us to move faster, Kurseong gently whispered a different lesson—that there is quiet wisdom in standing still.

In musing……. Shakti Ghosal

The Most Important Person You’ll Ever Lead


‘Leadership doesn’t begin with managing people. It begins with understanding the person in the mirror.’

I recall a conversation of several years back.

It was late evening and I was preparing to go home. Hearing a knock, I looked up to see a colleague standing outside my glass door, smiling. He was one of the bright managers from our Supply Chains division. As I gestured him to a chair, I sensed something was on his mind. After the usual pleasantries and how things were going at work, I asked what I could do for him.

“Sir, while I seem to be doing okay at work based on the feedback of my Divisional Head, deep down I fear I’m failing as a leader,” he blurted out.

” Hmm! That’s a strong statement,” I replied. “What makes you say that?”

He sighed, “I am trying to be a better leader. I’ve read leadership books. I keep trying new leadership techniques…… but somehow I feel a sense of inadequacy and a lack of being authentic.”

Pondering over what I had just heard, I asked, “When was the last time you studied yourself?”

My colleague frowned. After a few moments he admitted, “I don’t think I ever have.”

“You know,” I said, “most of us believe awareness means noticing what’s happening around us. For instance, the market. Our competitors. Our customers. Our bosses. We become experts at observing everyone else’s behaviour. We know exactly what our colleagues need to improve. We notice the habits holding others back. We can often predict how someone else will react in a meeting. But ask us why we react defensively to criticism… why certain conversations drain our energy… why we repeat the same mistakes… and suddenly the answers become less clear.”

He looked at me for a few moments before replying, “So you’re saying I’ve been looking in the wrong direction?”

“Not the wrong direction. Just one direction.”

Looking out of the window, he said softly, almost to himself, “I’ve been trying to model myself on people I’ve admired.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with admiration,” I said. “The problem begins when admiration turns into imitation. We can borrow someone’s ideas. We can learn from someone’s experience.  But we can never build our leadership by becoming a copy of someone else’s story.”

There was a silence. Then the colleague asked quietly, “So what does awareness really look like?”

I realised that we were now entering the deep end of our conversation. I said, “It is knowing your strengths without becoming arrogant. Recognising your weaknesses without becoming discouraged. Understanding your patterns before they begin to define you.”

I concluded by saying, “It is having the courage to ask not, ‘How do I become like them?’ but ‘Who am I becoming?’“

As my colleague got up to leave, he paused at the door and said, “I’ve spent years trying to improve my leadership. Perhaps I should spend more time understanding the leader.”

The conversation stayed with me. The older I grow, the more I realise that personal growth rarely begins with learning something new. More often, it begins with seeing ourselves a little more clearly.

Self-awareness is perhaps the only mirror that becomes clearer the longer we are willing to look into it. Leadership is not the journey from ignorance to knowledge. It is the journey from unconsciousness to awareness. Because the greatest breakthroughs in life seldom come from changing who we are. They come from discovering who we have been all along. Perhaps the most important meeting you will ever have is not with your team, your boss, or your client. It is the quiet conversation you have with yourself.

Is that meeting long overdue?

Reflections…..                                 Shakti Ghosal

When Fiction meets Foresight


 

A BCG Henderson Institute report

When Fiction Meets Foresight: A Reflection on The Last Writer of Kolkata and Other Stories based on the BCG Henderson Institute report.

Author – A BCG Consultant ( name kept confidential)

Reading the ‘Last Writer of Kolkata and other stories’ in the context of BCG Henderson Institute’s Beyond Tomorrow: Four Scenarios for the World of 2050  produces an unexpected sensation. I can confirm that the report is the product of rigorous analysis of megatrends, historical data and expert interviews. Shakti Ghosal’s book is speculative fiction. Yet both seem to be looking at the same horizon.

The BCG report reminds us that “the decisions leaders make over the next 5 years will shape the next 25.” It does not attempt to predict the future. Instead, it explores plausible futures emerging from forces already visible today. The four stories in this collection do something remarkably similar.

Consider The Last Writer of Kolkata. BCG’s “AI Abundance” scenario describes a world where AI transforms work, creativity and identity, leaving people searching for “meaning and identity beyond employment.” The ageing writer Rudra Bose inhabits a future shaped by a similar question. If machines can write, create and remember, what remains uniquely human? The story is not really about technology. It is about dignity, relevance and the stubborn human need to leave behind a voice that matters.

The Last Writer of Kolkata

In Echo Chamber, technology enters an even more intimate space—memory itself. The BCG report warns that future societies may trade elements of personal freedom for stability, efficiency and social cohesion. The story asks a disturbing question: If our memories can be edited, curated or manipulated, what becomes of our identity? Memory, after all, is not merely a record of our lives. It is our life.

Echo Chamber

The environmental anxieties running through 2056: The Year of Water and Fire find an echo in BCG’s climate scenarios. The report speaks of a world facing “stress on food and water systems” and increasingly extreme weather. The story translates those trends into human experience. Climate change is no longer a scientific projection; it becomes a force that shapes survival, migration and moral choices.

2056 The year of the Water and Fire

Perhaps the most poignant parallel emerges in When the Rain Remembered. BCG highlights ageing populations, declining fertility and shifting demographics as defining features of the coming decades. Ghosal imagines the emotional consequences of those trends. The story asks what happens when societies grow older, families become smaller, and loneliness becomes a public condition rather than a private feeling.

When the Rain Remembered’

What makes this collection noteworthy is that it does not offer technological optimism or dystopian despair. Instead, it explores the fragile space in between. Like the BCG report, it understands that the future is not a destination but a series of choices.

The greatest compliment one can pay The Last Writer of Kolkata and Other Stories is this: the book does not feel like fiction written about tomorrow. It feels like tomorrow trying to speak to us today.

Reference  

1)bcg-scenarios-2050-apr-2026-web.pdf

2) http://www.shaktighosal.com