A Piece of Mind – a Compilation of Random Thoughts

What kind of adventure would life be if everything followed expected lines? Boring, right? Just as the Earth rotates on its axis and revolves around the sun, we too move through our own lives every second. That is how we reach our birthdays. Along the way, we gain and lose, fight and make peace, learn and unlearn, love and hate, stay kind or nurse resentment, hold on or let go. Through it all, we either keep our eyes wide open, look at things sideways, or simply choose to look away. In this same spirit, Ashutosh Agnihotri has gathered fragments of his own experiences and set them down across 237 chapters in his book, A Piece of Mind – A Compilation of Random Thoughts.

Ashutosh Agnihotri is a craftsman of words and an IAS officer of the 1999 batch. He is a keen observer and listener, someone who values silence as much as sound, and stillness as much as sight. A Piscean by birth, he is also drawn to astrology, cricket, and creative writing. Through this book, he takes readers on a roller-coaster ride through his mind, his perceptions, and his life, using analogies, irony, and idealism much like a diary. Readers should fasten their seatbelts before they begin.

Writing down a life is never easy. A single minute can hold enough material for a chapter, which means a single day could easily produce over a thousand of them. Calculations aside, translating one's own story with honesty takes courage. Like someone collecting shells on a beach, knowing the tide could wash them away at any moment, the author has gathered his random thoughts and set them down in a 346-page book.

The human mind is a boundless resource, powered by imagination and reasoning alike. Its greatest strength is a single thought, which can travel faster than time itself. In a fraction of a second, you can picture Antarctica and its polar bears, dive into the waters of the Maldives, ride a camel through Dubai, or pose for a selfie at the tip of the Eiffel Tower, all without a ticket or a visa. A mind can travel across worlds, or even create one of its own. Here, the author draws different slices of his life, layered with his thoughts and feelings from each moment, and pieces them together like the standalone (and sometimes connected) entries of a daily diary. By the time you finish the book, you will realize you have read something close to an unshaped autobiography.

The book is written in a narrative, storytelling style, in which the author often drifts into loosely structured monologues. Because of this, readers can genuinely feel his voice reaching them and find it easy to relate to his way of thinking.

As he moves through different events in his life, the author offers his own understanding of each one, along with the reasoning that helped him navigate difficult or unclear situations. At times, his thoughts drift into the surreal, even touching on fairy tales. The book is divided into two sections: "Silence" and "Sounds." "Silence" holds 101 chapters and proves that quiet can speak louder than noise. "Sounds" holds 136 chapters. Each section works like a tree, branching out into different situations, places, experiences, and people, each one a piece of a larger life. Every chapter earns its title by the time it ends.

The author often returns to his past. In one instance, he recalls his childhood room, with its mezzanine floor stacked with books, describing it as a warehouse holding the desires, struggles, passions, and dreams of his younger years. He also uses the book to thank Ms. Duru, a teacher from his school days who was caring and affectionate but passed away from a terminal illness. Her words, "Sorry doesn't make a dead man alive," left a permanent mark on him.

He places the chapter "Strength of Institutions 02" on its own, to mark the joy he felt on finding a handwritten letter that UPSC had acknowledged and acted upon. In another chapter, he reflects on the mystery surrounding Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose's death: "The truth must indeed be complex and unpleasant, which is why those files were kept shrouded in secrecy. It is a bold and courageous decision to declassify them and let the nation know whatever truth these files and papers may tell."

Elsewhere, he compares the charm of the Doordarshan serial "Udaan," which aired in 1988–89, with today's television serials. He misses the idealism that shows from that era celebrated. The serial was, for him, a genuine thread of inspiration, one he still revisits on YouTube to relive that time and reawaken it.

The author also writes about his time abroad: sixteen chapters cover his stay in London, three cover Paris, and five cover Singapore. Toward the end of his time in London, once his family had joined him, he writes in "London Feels Even Better" about how the city felt brighter and happier, full of stories everywhere he looked.

The book's theme has nothing in common with Iron Maiden's fourth studio album, released in 1983 by EMI (and later Capitol in Canada and the US), beyond sharing the same title, "Piece of Mind." A closer match might be Kehlani's song of the same name, since the book's overall theme of "life and its many shades" echoes its lyrics, which speak of returning to old habits and old hobbies while holding on to what matters most.

Moving from music back to the book, the author's admiration for Winston Churchill comes through clearly. He considers Churchill a hero, a gifted writer, a great politician, and an exceptional orator, whose words left a deep impression on him. In "Reading Winston Churchill 01," he describes using Churchill's words almost like a bedtime ritual, helping him sleep better and wake up feeling positive: "Let us reconcile ourselves to the mysterious rhythm of our destinies. Let us treasure our joys but not bewail our sorrows."

Gradually, different sides of the author's personality come into view: the student, the officer, the father, the thinker, the wanderer, the spiritual seeker, and more, glimpses of who he is beyond his public role as a government officer. As he puts it, "It is indeed liberating to be with someone who sees and accepts you the way you are, and not how you are seen, perceived, and known by others."

He also writes about his daughter, who shares her birthday with Lord Krishna, and his two sons, Manu and Yashu. In "My Princess," "Happy Birthday – My Daughter," and "Happy Birthday – My Sons," he pours out his love for his children with complete honesty. These short, two-page chapters read almost like letters from a father to his child, holding an entire world within them, not unlike the letters India's first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, once wrote to his daughter, Indira Gandhi, who would go on to become India's first and, to date, only female Prime Minister. Of course, one person's love cannot be compared to or measured against another's. In "Happy Birthday – My Sons," the author defines success as something beyond simply getting what one wants; it also means "realizing the blessings in what was wanted and never got." He wishes for his sons to be "sensitive and compassionate, caring, kind and chivalrous, to be both gentle and manly, strong enough to support yourself when you trip and resolute enough to resume your run."

One notable feature of the author's writing is its directness and brevity. Since most of his thoughts grow out of a specific event or incident, he tends to focus more on the situation and its background than on the people involved. The connection between a situation and the thoughts it sparks comes through clearly throughout the book. Without wasting words, he moves straight to the moment, opens his heart and mind, and shares what he finds there, all while staying admirably concise.

Several chapters carry a strong aphoristic quality: "I have my moments of sadness and reflection. I have my share of agony and suffering. I also have my moments of joy and triumph. What appears arid from a distance is actually a small little patch, which turns green every time I nourish it with my blood and sweat and tears. My little patch is not lifeless. It is so fresh, so fragrant. And when I look at the dew soaked grass and the smiling flowers, I know that I am not insignificant. No I am not. I am a world unto myself. And I do not then ponder over the beginning or end of the universe."

The author's childhood memories add a valuable layer to his perspective and analysis throughout the book. This brings to mind Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis, who believed that childhood experiences carry a lasting influence over adult personality. The author weaves several chapters with memories from his own childhood. He recalls how his father lost his own father (the author's grandfather) at the age of nine, and how, despite this hardship, his father showered him with unconditional love, free of judgment, scrutiny, or expectation. "Childhood Memories" (chapter 6) and "Early Childhood" (chapter 92) are especially worth reading in this context.

In the "Sounds" section, the author also captures the music and sounds that come with festivals: "This is the holy month of Ramadan. My father's close friend, whom we called Khwaja Uncle, would often visit us, and Uncle and Aunty would bring some sweets, which invariably included different kinds of sewain (sweetened vermicelli). Even though my father was a regular visitor to their home in a different locality, I remember having visited them only once or twice. Their home was in the older part of Kanpur, which was much more densely populated and had a different feel, with narrower streets and a more vibrant market. There were shops of all kinds near Khwaja Uncle's house, most of which sold delectable sweets. And respecting our being strict vegetarians, we were scrupulously served fruits, dates, and sewain, with the reassurance that they had been cooked separately, as Aunty herself largely avoided meat."

He describes another festival: "The hearth is warm and so are the hearts. As the Sun enters Capricorn, called Makara in India, there is a change, a transition, a movement. The change is auspicious and is supposed to signal the advent of spring. It also marks the culmination of effort, perseverance, and hard work. When honest labour yields a rich harvest, it calls for celebration, feast, and merriment. Differing only in subtle form, these celebrations cheer and delight people across the country, echoing the shared joy of a good harvest."

Festivity also runs through chapter 89 of "Silence," titled "Visualizing Durga Puja Back in India from London." The author recalls, "Carrying the faith and devotion of countless people, who, in the last few days, worshipped the Goddess of strength and valour, made beautiful idols of her and kept her in beautifully decorated pandals with all love and dedication. Today, those idols have been immersed in the eternal flow of the river. I remember that as Deputy Commissioner, especially during my tenure in Guwahati, I would sit for hours together on the banks, watching the long and loud processions, and men and women deeply immersed in religious revelry. And while we remained anxious, hoping the event would pass off smoothly and peacefully, these men and women would be in a different state of mind altogether, a heady mix of devotion, fervour, gaiety, and abandon. Today, I can only hear the distant drums in silent thoughts. But I feel I am still sitting on the banks of the river Brahmaputra, watching the dark flow and the still sky."

Alongside these reflections on different festivals across religions, the author also touches on equality: "The locality in which I stayed had the same moon telling us about different festivals." A similar sense of equality appears in the chapter "Auroville": "Auroville is a drop in the ocean of humanity. Auroville, the 'universal town,' has the purpose of realizing 'human units.' The residents appear to be at peace. They are not divided by the boundaries of nationalities and the bondages of creed and religion; they have the freedom and space to realize the purpose and possibilities of their being."

The author's different sides continue to reveal themselves gradually. Here is a glimpse of his more optimistic outlook. While many people are overwhelmed by the sadness a crisis brings, the author sees crisis as a moment that reveals a leader, and it is up to each person how they respond to it: "He would be either seen fighting, trying to tide over the crisis, or would be seen nowhere."

Now for a look at his more sarcastic side, from the chapter "Freedom of Expression": "I had read a quote long back, which read, 'Every sensible man is selfish.' Must be. We do not expect the world to be full of selfless souls. We attach importance only to what is tangible. If you vow to destroy me or cut me into pieces, I may feel terribly scared and run for protection, or invoke my manliness to counter your charge. If you do the same against some ideas and intangibles, like love for the country or compassion for humanity, I shall have to respect your freedom of expression."

Here is a glimpse of his patriotic and compassionate side, fitting for a Piscean, known for being kind-hearted. Chapter 52, "The Nation Shall Celebrate this Brave Soldier," is about a soldier involved in a rescue operation. Hanumanthappa had braved the odds and was under intensive care: "The breath is faint and feeble, but strong enough to tell us about the endurance of a brave man. His wife has just seen a glimmer of joy in her eyes, which had dimmed after the news of the tragedy. His child is eager to hear the stories of his bravery directly from him. His parents, friends, and family want him to hold the Indian flag again and march undaunted on the borders. Our heart goes out to those who were not lucky enough to survive the assault and fury of nature. Our heartfelt condolences to their families. And to those who carried out the rescue operation, fighting chill, frost, and terrain, to the valiant men of the Indian army, we can only give our undiluted love and respect. The nation waits to celebrate. The nation wants to celebrate."

His spiritual side comes through as well: "My God existed peacefully in all forms in the little space that he was allocated in my home. We were expected to worship Him daily, after cleaning ourselves. But during winters, when the water would be too cold, I could dupe him by just putting some water on my face and hair, and he would still not mind. He was always loving, always forgiving. I am proud of my God. I am proud of my religion. I have never been told to follow one path. I have always been told that truth can be attained through several ways. I have also been told that what I know, or would ever know, is only a fraction of what could be known. My religion has taught me how to be curious. It has taught me how to be tolerant. It has given me the freedom to choose the way I worship. It has even given me the liberty not to worship. Whether I go to a temple or not, read a scripture or question it, believe in form or abstractness, I shall continue to be called a Hindu. And with great respect for the faith, tradition, scripture, or God that others follow and hold sacred, I feel really proud of the way those sounds, images, fragrance, and wisdom have shaped and defined me."

In the chapter "India Shall Live and Grow," he shares his hope for the country's future: "Greatness survives, art endures, dreams abide. 'In the long run, we may all be dead.' Yes, we will. But India shall live, bigger and brighter. It shall always be timeless. Am I right that Keynes, whose words just got quoted, died in 1946? But his words are not dead even today."

A different, more reflective side of the author appears in chapter 106 of "Sounds," where he writes, "While 'I' stands alone, 'you' and 'we' are not loners," touching on the value of unity.

Our minds are complex and produce equally complex results, working sometimes with a single focus and sometimes with many threads at once. In much the same way, the author's life and thoughts unfold layer after layer, almost like reversing the process of making a cream roll. The one thing that could have made this easier to follow is a clearer sense of time. For instance, a chapter wishing readers a happy Bhogali Bihu, Lohri, Makar Sankranti, and Pongal appears while reading in February, which breaks the immediate connection. Adding the relevant time period alongside the chapter title might have helped. That said, readers will look forward to the next edition regardless.

What truly makes this book shine are its many small, dynamic themes, birth, festivals, the teachings of legends, and more, which together build toward its larger theme: life itself. As an anthology of random thoughts, it does not follow a strict sequence, and it should not be expected to. Even so, the chapters mostly flow smoothly from one to the next, and it is precisely this occasional jump between themes that gives the book its distinct energy and charm. Even on the well-worn topic of "intolerance," the author finds a fresh angle: "Yes, I am an Indian, and I have learned to be tolerant."

In the chapter "Treason and Tolerance," he writes: "While a brave soldier, armed with the prayers of his countless countrymen, fights death, there are few who continue to misuse their liberty to justify and celebrate treason in the name of freedom and dissent. Yes, humanity should not be looked at through the narrow prism of politics. The spectrum of colour gets absorbed in the embedded interests of caste, colour, and community. What comes out is only a muddled stream of dark objectives. Yes, we should all be liberal, with large hearts and broad minds. The nation has moments of joy and sorrow, of triumph and despair. Treason cannot be tolerated. I say this even at the risk of being called intolerant."

In some chapters, the author's poetic side comes through, blending naturally with his prose. From "Dreams and Tomorrow" (chapter 103): "Tomorrow shall not be gone with the wind. Tomorrow shall not be just another day. I am sure that tomorrow shall be different." From "My Words" (chapter 16): "They make me love, they make me long. They make me soar, they make me pray."

The more you read, the more beauty you find in its many shifting moods, sometimes blooming quietly like a lotus in the mud, sometimes shining openly like a tulip turned toward the sun, each chapter a small act of discovery. All of it is held together by the author's experiences, the thoughts that grow out of them, and the imagination that connects them. His storytelling style, simple, direct, and unpretentious, keeps the chapters engaging and shows the many different ways he has explored life. The book is also, in part, a tribute to brave soldiers and to the legends who have shaped the author's thinking. Every section and every chapter within it feels equally valuable and distinct. It would be impossible to do justice to every chapter here, so I will leave the rest for readers to discover on their own.

This book is a must-read. I already have my copy, do you have yours? If you want my quick take: this book reads like an autobiography in the making.

About the author: 
Ashutosh Agnihotri is an IAS officer of the 1999 batch, currently serving as Commissioner and Secretary to the Government of Assam, overseeing the Departments of Industries and Commerce, Transport, and Sports and Youth Welfare, among others. Born on 11 March 1974 in Kanpur, he completed his MA in English Literature before joining the Indian Administrative Service. He also holds an MSc in Public Management and Governance from the London School of Economics. Over the course of his career, he has served as District Magistrate in several districts of Assam and has held various other roles within the Government of Assam, building a distinct reputation for himself along the way.