Reminiscences of a childhood spent in the shade of Mahatma Gandhi's legacy

He asked his readers to slow down sharing information to a human speed, to a humane speed

It was a common sight late in the evening: parents looking for their children from door to door, not knowing where they had eaten, played or slept all day. For us children, all the homes were ours. We could enter and exit almost any house, expecting to be loved and indulged, and sometimes scolded. No, this was not a tightly knit, caste-based community in a rural idyll. The residents came from across the country — food, language, customs and clothing changed from house to house. Often, foreigners came and stayed, sometimes making furniture for our spare households, or playing cricket