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When we think of oceans, we often picture distant coastlines, crashing waves, and blue horizons far from our farms, our cities, our daily lives. But standing here — in the heart of inland India, among fields I’ve nurtured for over a decade . I know a different truth: the ocean begins on land.
Every time we use chemicals in our soil, they find their way into rivers. Every plastic bottle tossed on a roadside eventually meets a drain, a stream, and then the sea. Our oceans are choking not just because of offshore drilling or overfishing, but because of inland choices made every day in agriculture, in waste management, in land planning.
In my work at Sportsland, we’ve tried to reverse that tide. We compost every leaf, we harvest every drop of rain, and we grow food without poison. Not because it’s trendy, but because it’s necessary. Healthy land holds water. Clean soil filters runoff. Conscious communities create cleaner oceans whether we live beside them or miles away.
It’s time we stop treating marine degradation as a coastal problem. It’s a systems problem. It’s our problem.
To those in positions of influence — policymakers, developers, investors the responsibility is even greater. Every decision you make about land use, industrial waste, urban planning, and agricultural subsidy echoes in our oceans.
This World Ocean Day, I ask you to see the unseen connections. What you do on land doesn’t stay on land.
Protecting our oceans doesn’t start at the shore. It starts at the source — with soil, with streams, with how we treat the Earth beneath our feet.
Because in the end, there’s only one ecosystem. And one chance to get it right.
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This World Environment Day, I’m not speaking as a farmer, an entrepreneur, or a developer. I’m speaking as a witness.
In the last year, I’ve watched the soil lose its memory. Crops that once stood proud now struggle to grow. Lakes I knew as a child are gasping, and the wind carries more heat than hope.
We often think of the environment as something out there separate from our economy, our politics, our lives. But it is the very ground we stand on. When it weakens, so does everything we build upon it.
India is pushing forward we’re electrifying highways, expanding metros, and breaking records in green energy. But the truth is harder to digest: our natural capital is shrinking faster than our GDP is growing. Our air is poisonous. Our groundwater is vanishing. Our cities, despite their steel and glass, are cracking under their own weight.
The climate crisis is no longer a distant threat. It is a daily negotiation for farmers, for families, for future generations. We cannot solve it with committees alone. We need conviction.
Regeneration is not charity — it’s policy. Restoring land, planting trees, protecting wetlands these aren’t rural issues. They are national imperatives.
This June, I ask you to look around and ask: what will outlast us? It won’t be the buildings. It will be the land — if we choose to heal it.
Invest in ecosystems, not excess. In long-term soil health, not short-term growth.
Because the environment won’t wait. And neither should we.
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When Operation Sindoor unfolded, I chose to watch and listen more than speak. Not waiting for statements or headlines, but for the silence between words.
No trending hashtags. No victory parades. No loud claims. And yet — a profound shift had taken place.
This wasn’t a spectacle for media attention. It was a clear message — not for the world’s eyes, but for maps, borders, and those paying close attention.
If you noticed, you understood — the message was powerful, though quiet.
Even the name — Sindoor. Careful, deliberate, and deeply Indian.
A symbol of solemn commitment, something that speaks without boasting.
It wasn’t an act of revenge. Nor an eruption of anger.
It was a steady, unwavering gaze.
A precise strike. And a ceasefire declared — not because of pressure, but on our terms.
India didn’t escalate chaos. It anchored strength.
This is the mark of maturity.
We no longer seek validation through noise.
We stand firm in silence, knowing actions carry far more weight.
Operation Sindoor was a reminder — quiet yet unmistakable:
This land cherishes peace, but we no longer mistake silence for weakness.
Many ask why this shift, why now?
I find the answer in our roots.
India has always been a land of warriors.
Our festivals — Holi, Diwali, Dussehra — celebrate the triumph of order over chaos, light
over darkness, dharma over aggression.
These are not just rituals. They are affirmations that peace is backed by strength.
I’ve always believed true power is grounded — in soil, in restraint, in clarity.
Operation Sindoor embodied that belief.
It told us:
● India no longer reacts — it responds.
● We don’t posture — we prepare.
● When we act, it’s not for headlines — it’s for history.
This is the Bharat I stand for. Quiet. Certain. Unapologetically precise.
The world may have forgotten this truth. We have only reminded them.
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Every May, we pause to honour the mothers who gave us life. But this year, I find myself thinking about the one mother we all share — Earth.
In 2025, that bond feels more fragile than ever. Record heatwaves have already scorched 19 Indian states. Monsoon patterns are disrupted. Farmers are struggling with shrinking water tables. We don’t need another reminder — we need resolve.
This Mother’s Day, I’m not sending flowers. I’m planting them. And more importantly, I’m planting trees, nurturing soil, and advocating for laws that protect what sustains us.
India is at a climate crossroads. We lead the world in solar expansion, yet remain one of the largest emitters. Our cities are choking while our forests shrink. But it’s not all despair — just this year, India expanded its Green Credit Programme, supported over 50 new ecorestoration projects, and launched climate budgeting frameworks in five states.
he real question is: Are we treating the Earth like a mother, or like a marketplace?
For me, sustainability isn’t sentiment. It’s strategy. It’s knowing that the cleanest air, purest water, and most resilient wealth will always come from the ground beneath our feet.
So this May, I invite you to skip the clichés. Honour your mother with love — and honour the Earth with action.
Invest in trees, not trends. In soil, not speculation.
Because the best way to say thank you to a mother — is to protect her.
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