"20 Years, 2 Daughters Later", Rishi Sunak, Akshata Murty Return To Stanford
Two decades after meeting and falling in love on campus, former UK Prime Minister Rishi Sunak and his wife, investor and philanthropist Akshata Murty, returned to Stanford Graduate School of Business, not as students but as commencement speakers for the Class of 2025.
"This is literally where we met," said Ms Murty during the address on Saturday. Recalling her journey from India to California, she described Stanford as "nothing short of transformational."
"It opened our eyes to a whole new way of thinking. It also changed the course of our lives," she said.
Ms Murty revealed that a former admissions director once told her, based only on their application essays, that she and Mr Sunak were destined to be together. "So, thank you, Stanford. Twenty years and two daughters later, forget about being the best business school in the world, you're an even better matchmaking service," she joked.
Later, she posted a photo from their favourite spot in Stanford on Instagram, writing, "Back up at the Dish for our favourite morning run in Stanford."
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In her speech, Ms Murty also shared a memory from their student days. "There was no one more annoying than Rishi when we would go on a run. He would beg to come and then he would want to talk to me the whole way around the loop."
Together, the couple shared three key life lessons they have learned along the way.
The first lesson was about the "comfort of data." "I'm a numbers guy," Mr Sunak said, mentioning how it helped him bond with his father-in-law, Infosys founder Narayana Murthy. But he said there were limitations. "Data can't look around corners," he said.
The second takeaway was led by Ms Murty, who focused on bridging idealism with practicality. Reflecting on her early drive to address inequality and push for social change, she spoke about how Mr Sunak would constantly challenge her to think deeper. "He always asked, 'how?' I had genuinely never met someone my age who thought like that," she said.
That approach, she explained, helped her shift from purely idealistic goals to taking small, tangible steps that could lead to meaningful impact.
"There was no one more intriguing than Rishi when he was talking to me about how to affect social change at scale. Idealism is inspiring, but he helped me see that if it's untethered from reality, there is no traction. You float without impact. I learned from him that the path to achieving something transformational is rooted in the gravity of tangible steps," she said.
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A post shared by Akshata Murty (@akshatamurty_official)
The third principle was drawn from the Sanskrit idea of Dharma, the notion of doing one's duty without obsessing over the result. "It's about finding fulfillment in effort, not outcomes," they said.
Mr Sunak closed the speech with a tribute to their relationship, "We've always pushed each other's thinking to become sharper and better."
The graduates of Stanford's Class of 2006, got married in 2009.
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Time of India
an hour ago
- Time of India
Why states struggle to teach the 'third language': Dearth of teachers and lack of clear approach persist; amid confusion and muddled execution of NEP's mandatory three-language policy.
MUMBAI: In the corner of a school corridor in south Kolkata, a retired Sanskrit teacher quietly takes a class without pay. Down the hallway, a part-time Hindi teacher, paid just Rs 5,000 a month, juggles syllabi and student disinterest. These are not isolated cases — they are scenes repeating across campuses of India, where the three-language formula of the National Education Policy (NEP) is a muddled mosaic of politics, policy and pedagogy. The idea is simple on paper: every child in India should learn three languages — preferably the mother tongue, Hindi or English, and one more Indian language. But in practice, the 'third language' is often the orphaned child of the curriculum — chronically underfunded, sporadically taught, rarely enjoyed. NEP recommended three languages to promote 'multilingualism, national unity, and cognitive development.' The policy says: 'The three languages learned by children will be the choices of states, regions, and of the students themselves, so long as at least two of the three languages are native to India.' In essence, the policy is designed to 'balance local relevance with national cohesion and global readiness'. However, linguist Peggy Mohan says, 'Not only does it not help, we don't have teachers to teach it. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Giao dịch vàng CFDs với mức chênh lệch giá thấp nhất IC Markets Đăng ký Undo They are already overstressed with understanding English texts. Language is not an intellectual accomplishment. People learn languages if demanded by their environment. As usual politicians are loading their issues onto children. ' Bengal: Disinclination and Honorariums In West Bengal, where the State Education Policy was introduced as a counterweight to the Centre's NEP, the third language begins in Class 5 — if schools can find someone to teach it. Hindi or Sanskrit is usually the choice for Classes 7 and 8, or in some cases Urdu, but few institutions allocate full-time teachers for them. So principals improvise. 'We employ a retired Sanskrit teacher on an honorary basis and a part-time Hindi teacher,' says Amit Sen Majumder of Jodhpur Park Boys' School in south Kolkata. However, the pay can be as little as Rs 5,000. Keeping students engaged and convincing parents is equally a daunting task. Anjana Dutta, whose son is in Class 7 at a south Kolkata school, said, 'Students are reluctant to study a third language, knowing it's only for two years. Govt should ensure proper teaching and offer language options that could be useful later.' Incidentally, Bengali is taught compulsorily from Class 1. And while ASER (Annual Status of Education Report) 2024 paints a picture of improvement in the state — 71.3% of Class 8 students can read a Class 2-level text — parents are not entirely impressed with the standards. Bihar: Ghost Classes, Silent Tongues In Bihar, the formula includes Hindi, English and Sanskrit or Urdu — but again, the approach smacks of lip service. 'Some schools have students without teachers; others have teachers without students,' admits ManojKumar, working president, State Primary Teachers' Association. It's not surprising, as sanctioned posts for language teachers has not kept pace with increase in students. Retired Patna University teacher and Sahitya Akademi Award winner Arun Kamal points out that studentshere mostly opt for Sanskrit as third language besides Hindi and English. Even as there is a facility for Bengali teaching in some schools, there are very few teachers for the subject. 'We don't offer enough options. There is no imaginative engagement.' Even Maithili, which is spoken in 148assembly constituencies and has been included in the 8th Schedule of the Constitution, is not taught in schools as yet. Linguist Bhairav Lal Das says Maithili is a popular language with a rich history but has not yet been made the medium of instruction even in the Mithilanchal (Maithili belt) of the state. 'The education system hasn't caught up with the linguistic richness of the state,' says Das. Yet, paradoxically, Bihar's reading outcomes have improved: 41.2% of Class 5 students can now read Class 2-level texts. Numbers rise, but the languages dwindle. Uttar Pradesh: Two Languages, Too Many Barriers Here, in the country's most populous state, Urdu and Sanskrit are taught from classes 5 to 8 in private schools and is mandatory for classes 6 to 8 in govt- and govt-aided inter colleges. In some, govt students can even choose to study Sanskrit till Class 12. Students opting for Sanskrit are limited though. Most tend to regard Sanskrit as merely a subject to clear in exams. Teachers, however, note that Urdu learning is more widespread because of its use in the literary world. 'In our college, we have 15 Urdu learners in a class of 40. They come from all communities,' says Mirza Shafiq Husain Shafaq, an Urdu teacher in Lucknow. His class sometimes drifts into poetry and shayari. Recruitment of teachers is hard, though. 'We get many science and commerce teachers,' says Anil Agarwal of St Joseph Institutions. 'But, for Sanskrit or Urdu, barely anyone applies.' According to educators and administrators in UP, the challenge is in recruiting postgraduate teachers for Sanskrit and Urdu, as few opt for higher studies in these languages. Agarwal says continuous professional development through workshops, conferences, and online courses would address the shortage. Mentorship programmes to connect experienced educators with newcomers and collaboration by govt bodies with academic institutions in creating policies, he said, would create a conducive environment for teaching these languages. Karnataka: Familiar Scripts, Fading Words In Belagavi, the children speak Kannada, Marathi, Urdu — but not Hindi. 'It feels out of place,' says award-winningteacher Hema Idagal. 'They can't grasp it because they don't hear it.' In Mangaluru, efforts to preserve Tulu and Konkani as third languages are an act of devotion, not policy. Tulu is offered in around 40 schools, but Konkani Academy, footing the salary bill, has no formal funding for it. Konkani's journey is steeper still — just four to five schools now teach it, mostly in Devanagari. 'People ask, why teach what they already speak?' says Joachim Stany Alvares of the academy. 'But if English speakers learn English, why not formalise our own?' Even students who love Tulu find no continuation in pre-university education, making the choice impractical. 'We offer it out of love,' says Dinesh Shettigar, Tulu teacher and drawing instructor, who worries what will happen after his retirement. Maharashtra: Compounding The Confusion Here, teaching the third language begins right from Class 1 — at least in policy. Teachers, however, are reeling from the shock. 'It was never in the original foundational education plan,' says Mahendra Ganpule, ex-vice president of the State Headmasters' Association. 'Then suddenly we were told it must be taught — but with no extra teachers.' In Marathi-medium schools, English is a challenge; in English-medium schools, it's Marathi. A third language, usually Hindi, simply compounds the confusion. The state recently made Marathi compulsory across all schools till Class 10. Hindi, initially mandated till Class 5, was made optional after protests. ASER data shows that in 2024, 50.3% of rural students could read a Class 2 text — down from 2018. English reading proficiency remains dire: just 12.1% of Class 5 students could read basic sentences in 2022. 'Hiring depends on how many students opt for a language,' says Zafar Khan, a headmasters' association president. 'No takers, no teachers.' The Language We Lose For a country that prides itself on linguistic diversity, our classrooms echo the opposite. Third languages are a constitutional promise, a pedagogical gift — but, increasingly, an administrative burden, experts say. Prof Madri Kakoti of Lucknow University offers a hopeful note. 'Multiple languages don't just build neural pathways. They connect us to each other. To learn a third language is to increase cultural understanding between our people, expose our children to the traditions of neighbouring states and their people, and encourage a whole new generation towards humanities and literature. ' But, for that to happen, it must first be taught with purpose — not as a policy checkbox, but as a bridge between a child's tongue and the the corner of a school corridor in south Kolkata, a retired Sanskrit teacher quietly takes a class without pay. Down the hallway, a part-time Hindi teacher, paid just Rs 5,000 a month, juggles syllabi and student disinterest. These are not isolated cases — they are scenes repeating across campuses of India, where the three-language formula of the National Education Policy (NEP) is a muddled mosaic of politics, policy and pedagogy. The idea is simple on paper: every child in India should learn three languages — preferably the mother tongue, Hindi or English, and one more Indian language. But in practice, the 'third language' is often the orphaned child of the curriculum — chronically underfunded, sporadically taught, rarely enjoyed. NEP recommended three languages to promote 'multilingualism, national unity, and cognitive development.' The policy says: 'The three languages learned by children will be the choices of states, regions, and of the students themselves, so long as at least two of the three languages are native to India.' In essence, the policy is designed to 'balance local relevance with national cohesion and global readiness'. However, linguist Peggy Mohan says, 'Not only does it not help, we don't have teachers to teach it. They are already overstressed with understanding English texts. Language is not an intellectual accomplishment. People learn languages if demanded by their environment. As usual politicians are loading their issues onto children. ' Bengal: Disinclination and Honorariums In West Bengal, where the State Education Policy was introduced as a counterweight to the Centre's NEP, the third language begins in Class 5 — if schools can find someone to teach it. Hindi or Sanskrit is usually the choice for Classes 7 and 8, or in some cases Urdu, but few institutions allocate full-time teachers for them. So principals improvise. 'We employ a retired Sanskrit teacher on an honorary basis and a part-time Hindi teacher,' says Amit Sen Majumder of Jodhpur Park Boys' School in south Kolkata. However, the pay can be as little as Rs 5,000. Keeping students engaged and convincing parents is equally a daunting task. Anjana Dutta, whose son is in Class 7 at a south Kolkata school, said, 'Students are reluctant to study a third language, knowing it's only for two years. Govt should ensure proper teaching and offer language options that could be useful later.' Incidentally, Bengali is taught compulsorily from Class 1. And while ASER (Annual Status of Education Report) 2024 paints a picture of improvement in the state — 71.3% of Class 8 students can read a Class 2-level text — parents are not entirely impressed with the standards. Bihar: Ghost Classes, Silent Tongues In Bihar, the formula includes Hindi, English and Sanskrit or Urdu — but again, the approach smacks of lip service. 'Some schools have students without teachers; others have teachers without students,' admits ManojKumar, working president, State Primary Teachers' Association. It's not surprising, as sanctioned posts for language teachers has not kept pace with increase in students. Retired Patna University teacher and Sahitya Akademi Award winner Arun Kamal points out that studentshere mostly opt for Sanskrit as third language besides Hindi and English. Even as there is a facility for Bengali teaching in some schools, there are very few teachers for the subject. 'We don't offer enough options. There is no imaginative engagement.' Even Maithili, which is spoken in 148assembly constituencies and has been included in the 8th Schedule of the Constitution, is not taught in schools as yet. Linguist Bhairav Lal Das says Maithili is a popular language with a rich history but has not yet been made the medium of instruction even in the Mithilanchal (Maithili belt) of the state. 'The education system hasn't caught up with the linguistic richness of the state,' says Das. Yet, paradoxically, Bihar's reading outcomes have improved: 41.2% of Class 5 students can now read Class 2-level texts. Numbers rise, but the languages dwindle. Uttar Pradesh: Two Languages, Too Many Barriers H ere, in the country's most populous state, Urdu and Sanskrit are taught from classes 5 to 8 in private schools and is mandatory for classes 6 to 8 in govt- and govt-aided inter colleges. In some, govt students can even choose to study Sanskrit till Class 12. Students opting for Sanskrit are limited though. Most tend to regard Sanskrit as merely a subject to clear in exams. Teachers, however, note that Urdu learning is more widespread because of its use in the literary world. 'In our college, we have 15 Urdu learners in a class of 40. They come from all communities,' says Mirza Shafiq Husain Shafaq, an Urdu teacher in Lucknow. His class sometimes drifts into poetry and shayari. Recruitment of teachers is hard, though. 'We get many science and commerce teachers,' says Anil Agarwal of St Joseph Institutions. 'But, for Sanskrit or Urdu, barely anyone applies.' According to educators and administrators in UP, the challenge is in recruiting postgraduate teachers for Sanskrit and Urdu, as few opt for higher studies in these languages. Agarwal says continuous professional development through workshops, conferences, and online courses would address the shortage. Mentorship programmes to connect experienced educators with newcomers and collaboration by govt bodies with academic institutions in creating policies, he said, would create a conducive environment for teaching these languages. Karnataka: Familiar Scripts, Fading Words In Belagavi, the children speak Kannada, Marathi, Urdu — but not Hindi. 'It feels out of place,' says award-winningteacher Hema Idagal. 'They can't grasp it because they don't hear it.' In Mangaluru, efforts to preserve Tulu and Konkani as third languages are an act of devotion, not policy. Tulu is offered in around 40 schools, but Konkani Academy, footing the salary bill, has no formal funding for it. Konkani's journey is steeper still — just four to five schools now teach it, mostly in Devanagari. 'People ask, why teach what they already speak?' says Joachim Stany Alvares of the academy. 'But if English speakers learn English, why not formalise our own?' Even students who love Tulu find no continuation in pre-university education, making the choice impractical. 'We offer it out of love,' says Dinesh Shettigar, Tulu teacher and drawing instructor, who worries what will happen after his retirement. Maharashtra: Compounding The Confusion Here, teaching the third language begins right from Class 1 — at least in policy. Teachers, however, are reeling from the shock. 'It was never in the original foundational education plan,' says Mahendra Ganpule, ex-vice president of the State Headmasters' Association. 'Then suddenly we were told it must be taught — but with no extra teachers.' In Marathi-medium schools, English is a challenge; in English-medium schools, it's Marathi. A third language, usually Hindi, simply compounds the confusion. The state recently made Marathi compulsory across all schools till Class 10. Hindi, initially mandated till Class 5, was made optional after protests. ASER data shows that in 2024, 50.3% of rural students could read a Class 2 text — down from 2018. English reading proficiency remains dire: just 12.1% of Class 5 students could read basic sentences in 2022. 'Hiring depends on how many students opt for a language,' says Zafar Khan, a headmasters' association president. 'No takers, no teachers.' The Language We Lose For a country that prides itself on linguistic diversity, our classrooms echo the opposite. Third languages are a constitutional promise, a pedagogical gift — but, increasingly, an administrative burden, experts say. Prof Madri Kakoti of Lucknow University offers a hopeful note. 'Multiple languages don't just build neural pathways. They connect us to each other. To learn a third language is to increase cultural understanding between our people, expose our children to the traditions of neighbouring states and their people, and encourage a whole new generation towards humanities and literature. ' But, for that to happen, it must first be taught with purpose — not as a policy checkbox, but as a bridge between a child's tongue and the world. With inputs from Poulami Roy Banerjee, B K Mishra, Mohita Tewari, Ravi Uppar, Deepthi Sanjiv, and Abhishek Choudhari
New Indian Express
2 hours ago
- New Indian Express
Iran asks its people to delete WhatsApp from their devices
Iranian state television on Tuesday afternoon urged the country's public to remove the messaging platform WhatsApp from their smartphones, alleging the app — without offering specific evidence — gathered user information to send to Israel. In a statement, WhatsApp said it was 'concerned these false reports will be an excuse for our services to be blocked at a time when people need them the most.' WhatsApp uses end-to-end encryption, meaning a service provider in the middle can't read a message. 'We do not track your precise location, we don't keep logs of who everyone is messaging and we do not track the personal messages people are sending one another," it added. 'We do not provide bulk information to any government.' End-to-end encryption means that messages are scrambled so that only the sender and recipient can see them. If anyone else intercepts the message, all they will see is a garble that can't be unscrambled without the key. Gregory Falco, an assistant professor of engineering at Cornell University and cybersecurity expert, said it's been demonstrated that it's possible to understand metadata about WhatsApp that does not get encrypted. 'So you can understand things about how people are using the app and that's been a consistent issue where people have not been interested in engaging with WhatsApp for that (reason),' he said. Another issue is data sovereignty, Falco added, where data centers hosting WhatsApp data from a certain country are not necessarily located in that country. It's more than feasible, for instance, that WhatsApp's data from Iran is not hosted in Iran. 'Countries need to house their data in-country and process the data in-country with their own algorithms. Because it's really hard increasingly to trust the global network of data infrastructure,' he said. WhatsApp is owned by Meta Platforms, the parent company of Facebook and Instagram. Iran has blocked access to various social media platforms over the years but many people in the country use proxies and virtual private networks, or VPNs, to access them. It banned WhatsApp and Google Play in 2022 during mass protests against the government over the death of a woman held by the country's morality police. That ban was lifted late last year. WhatsApp had been one of Iran's most popular messaging apps besides Instagram and Telegram.
Hans India
3 hours ago
- Hans India
Vyasa's wail and India's cry in the moral abyss
Among the many Rishis of ancient India, the one that stands out is Rishi Krishna Dwaipayana, more popularly known as Veda Vyasa. He was not only revered as an 'amsa' of Lord Vishnu, but he was also the author of several scriptures and the ithihasa of Mahabharata. Towards the close of that epic, he did something uncommon for any author: he shed the robes of a neutral litterateur, and donned those of an activist advocator and ardently addressed the world at large: 'On bended knees I beg, but no one listens to me; when men can get all they want—the four purusharthas: dharma (righteous life), artha (material wealth), kama (worldly wants) and moksha (samsaric-liberation)—by treading the path of dharma, why do they do adharma?' Dharma was given the pride of place; the other three were meant to be attained by being 'dharmabadh'. Dharma was of such sublime spiritual sui generis genre of thought that an ancient Sanskrit text, the Hitopadesa, says, 'Dharma alone is specific to humans; without dharma, they are equal to animals'. Vyasa probably took such an unusual step because he wanted to warn future generations not to repeat that which had brought about that horrific Kurukshetra yuddha—the inability of great men like Bhisma, Drona and Karna to make the right dharmic choice by putting the self ahead of society. Bhisma had decided that being faithful to his solemn vows was worth even fighting on the side of adharma; in the case of Drona, it was the sin of ingratitude to the Kauravas; for Karna, it was the principle of mitra-dharma. Whether Vyasa intended to address his contemporaries or posterity, his passionate plea rings loud and clear in our society today. The tentacles of adharma reach everywhere: governance, policy-making, politics, personal priority-setting, self-indulgence, social injustice, economic inequity, pervasive corruption, ethical atrophy... We are indulging in what Lord Krishna (in the Bhagavad-Gita, 16.9) called 'horrible works meant to destroy the world', a result of our acquiring what He described as 'demonic nature'. Fanaticism has become fashionable, and assimilation has replaced accommodation in our mindset. Put in terms of the Katha Upanishad, we are treading the path of preyas (pleasure; sensual gratification) and not the path of shreyas (long-term goodness; spiritual growth). Preyas has taken the form of ruthless pursuit of pleasure, power and profit, convenience, comfort and control. Those who still strive for shreyas are shunned as bad examples. Clever we think we are, we reason: there is no reason to struggle to be good if by doing bad we can get the best of both: the good of good and not the bad of bad. Everything is commodified and monetized, even spirituality. That has led to our embracing hedonistic materialism at the expense of dharmic values. We have not only harmed ourselves, but also nature, which is all around us. Dharmic living also entails a sense of responsibility that a person owes to the non-living, and to all sentient beings. So low is our moral bar that brazen billionaires and shady celebrities have become our role models. Mammon is god; greed is good, and integrity is a needless nuisance. Every day, in every sphere—business, politics, social work or sports— what shines as glitz and glamour, right and bright, hides a lot of libertinage and sleaze. We hate to admit it, but we do get a kick out of it. It is important to remember that the ambit of dharma is more spiritual than 'secular' morality. While 'moral behavior' generally refers to acting according to one's personal sense of right and wrong, fair and unfair, based on human reason, 'dharmic behavior' encompasses living in harmony with natural laws and the cosmic order. Arrogant anthropocentric behavior has gravely disturbed that 'harmony', turning man into a lethal geologic force, and shooting to be, to borrow the phrase from Yuval Noah Harari, Homo Deus (Man-God). It is at the heart of the current climate crisis. Injecting dharmic principles into daily human life is perhaps the only way to save the planet. What is baffling is that although this 'crisis' is expected to drastically depress the living standards of half of India's population and aggravate every social divide, it is not even a major issue in public discourse and policy-making. If nothing else, this tells us a lot of how much India has declined as a dharmic society. Conclusion As a people, we must squarely face up to the bitter truth that the Indian society does not show even a hidden hint that it was once a society whose very sinews were held together by the dharmic way, which was what enabled India to be a great civilization. Although the religion of which it was its very soul—Sanatana dharma, now known as Hinduism—is still by far the most dominant religion in today's India, dharma is off the radar of public consciousness. It is all the more mystifying because dharma was not the monopoly of Hinduism; it was a part of all other Indic religions. Be that all as it may, the primary impetus to redeem and revive dharma is not nostalgia but renewed relevance. That alone now can fill the bill. 'Secular morality', the other alternative, is limited to personal probity and can be influenced by subjective biases. Only by imbibing a broader moral and cosmic concept like dharma can we hope to acquire and facilitate moral catharsis, social reform and spiritual sensitivity. Modern life has become so slippery that the so-called social animal does not know how to harmonize personal fulfillment and social purpose. Only dharma can provide the answer because it is only in this esoteric thought individual life and cosmic life are deeply connected. To serve the purpose, it is necessary to reinterpret and realign what the Bhagavad-Gita (3:35) calls swadharma—'personalized' dharma that is innate and at the same time serve a common cause. In today's world, almost everything 'personal' is also 'inter-personal', which, in turn, generates dharmic dilemmas. Knowing the quintessence of dharmic duty at any time is like dancing on what the Katha Upanishad calls ksurasya dhārā, the razor's edge. Living with dharma can help us find a light when our sense of goodness gets severely tested. What should then be the fail-safe dharmic across-the-board test? The answer is to adopt, as a governing principle of our behavior, what Bhisma advised King Yudhishthira in the Mahabharata: 'Yasmin yathā vartate yo manusyas; tasmims tathā vartitavyam sa dharmah' (As a person behaves towards another, so should he be treated; that is dharma). Like karma, dharma too must be done for its own sake and regardless of how unrewarding it is. Towards this we should 'operationalize' the aphorism 'manava seva madhava seva'. Bhakti and seva should go hand in hand. Swadharma and samaja dharma must be coupled. That will not only sanctify whatever we selflessly do, but it will also socially leverage divine offering. That empowers individuals to fulfill their cosmic duty while also pursuing a path towards spiritual fulfillment. It must also be economical to the point. A dharmic-driven economic model will not only be egalitarian and in sync with nature, but it will also give a boost to empathetic economic growth that puts the needs of the most-needy foremost. That is the right way to make headway to meet its 'tryst with destiny'. India will then not only get rid of its moral ills and mental mediocrity, but also grow into a great nation, and be a beacon to a world that is dangerously roaming rudderless. Without a dharmic rebirth, even if everything else is in place, India will fall short of achieving any of its ambitions, economic or social, at home or abroad. And Vyasa's wail will continue to resonate as India's cry in the moral abyss. (The writer is a retired IAS officer)
