 My life has been an unacceptable, unusual journey. And I keep discovering new things about myself, as I suppose all of you do. When I was young, I used to think that happiness comes from approval, acceptance, applause, material acquisition. But I have learned that all these tickle my ego, but the feel-good factor is temporary. What gives me a real sense of achievement is accomplishing things that matter to me. And there may be small things, like regularly exercising, daily meditating, reaching out to a relationship that's important to me, and walking that extra mile. When I was young and growing up, we did not have a fan or a phone. And it did not matter. But today, I'm so dependent on the gadgets and gizmos that if the air conditioner doesn't work, I'm unable to sleep. And without my mobile, I'm lost. I often wonder that by pampering myself, have I forgotten to enjoy the simple things of life? I know that we all need the necessities of life, plus a few luxuries. But mindless consumption and getting into the rat race and keeping up with the Joneses is not my idea of happiness. You know, I used to be insecure about money and had a fear that one day I might lose it and maybe need of it myself. Hence, I couldn't give substantial amounts to worthy causes. But I've realized that the fear is in my head and has nothing to do with the bank balance. I have to decide how much is it enough and where do I draw the line? Eric Byrne, in his book, Games People Play, has said that human beings spend 70% to 80% of their time playing games rather than authentically engaging with each other. From childhood, they learn to play games to reinforce their familiar and predictable feeling. My recurrent feeling used to be hurt. And I used to create it through games. Earlier, I used to blame others for their insensitivity and for my hurt. But today I know that no game can be played without my explicit consent. One of my favorite games was trying to be a little better than some of my friends. So what did I do? Mentally, I pulled one friend a little low so that eyes stood tall. This game certainly gave me one upmanship, but came in the way of my closeness. I am a judgmental person. And I used to not approve of women who dye their hair and put on excessive makeup. But I realized that every woman has a need to feel good. And with humility, I had to accept. I hate hair sprouting on my face, and I have it removed. And someday, when my hair, what my hair should be there is not there. I may wear a wig. Who knows? I still continue to play games. But because the intensity and frequency has gone down, the knots in my stomach are far less. I'm able to be close to many people. And my energy level is high because the negativity in me has gone down. Some changes in my life were planned and conscious. And some were unplanned and beyond my control. When I was in my 50s, I lost my husband, who also happened to be my best friend. We had our differences. We quarreled, but we also helped each other to grow. I was with my daughter in UK, helping her with her first delivery and was getting back after six months. My husband was overjoyed to have me back and drove from Pune to Mumbai. But before he could reach the airport, had a massive heart attack and died. 14 months later, while I was having my shower, a friend rang up to say my 25-year-old son had met with an accident. By the time I flew to Belgium, I realized he had died. The pain I felt when my husband had died receded into insignificance compared to how I felt when my son died. Until death comes and knocks on your door, you always think it is something that happens to other people. We never think about death. We never openly discuss it. Earlier, if anyone talked of anything unpleasant, I would touch wood, hoping that the wood would shield me against misfortune. But today, I know that even if I carried the entire forest with me, I cannot change my destiny. Death has taught me many valuable lessons. It also pushed me to attend a 10-day Buddhist meditation program called Vipassala. The rules do not allow us to talk, read, or write. Hence, I went within myself and got in touch with my centeredness. For most people, death is a tragedy. But how can death be a tragedy? It is inevitable. But one thing is certain. All of us sitting here are going to die, and that's certain. So for me, what is a tragedy is not investing in the living, not getting along with people we care for. For me, tragedy is when we stop questioning our old ways and growing and using our age as an excuse not to change. I also learn that we have no control over the external world. But God has given us a choice as to how we will respond to those events. And the way we respond will decide whether we will grow and take charge of our feelings and our lives or wallow in self-pity. I'd never lived by myself. And when I had to, after my husband and son died, I hated it. But today, I value my solitude. Overnight, I had to take over the charge of our company. And being a social worker by background, I felt most inadequate to assume this role. A year before my husband died, Thermax, my company, had gone public. And our 400-rupee share had come down to 36 with the support of my daughter and her family. And my excellent executive team, we managed to turn around the company. What seemed impossible, daunting, I was able to make it happen and put it behind me. But even though it's over 15 years since my husband and son died, I still hanker after the small things of life, a warm cuddle from my husband, nagging from my son and their sense of humor. Due to years of conditioning, though I'm aware of my patterns of behavior, I'm not able to change some of them. I know that I do not respect and treat all human beings with dignity. I write off a few people and dump my anger and irritation on some people. I am also a person who's reactive. And still, I am not full of guilt or my self-worth is not low. And in fact, even though I have lost two precious human beings, I have a greater sense of peace and equanimity. What has helped me? The love, the understanding, the support from my daughter and the warmth of a family, my meditation, and gently reminding myself that after all, I'm a human being and will not be able to take care of all my limitations during this lifetime and will have to be reborn a few hundred times at least. Sense of humor. Whereby I do not take myself nor my achievement seriously. A wise man has said, our stay on this earth is short, our role dispensable, and our impact in consequential. At 62, I decided to step down from the corporate world and focus on the social sector. My late son used to constantly nag me that our time and wealth should be used towards worthy causes. I'm very lucky I have come across two outstanding engineers, Akanksha and Teach for India. And through them, I'm learning to focus on bridging the inequity gap in education for the underprivileged. I've been struggling for years to be true to myself and not define myself as society wants me to be. I want to dare to be the kind of woman I want to be. And this is very well summed up in a poem called Man in the Glass. You may fool the whole world down the pathway of life and get pats on your back as you pass. But your final reward will be heartache and tears if you have cheated the man in the glass. Thank you.