India is my name.

I am the India that has never named one of its sons Dushasan because he insulted a woman in the last five thousand years.

I am the India that never names its children Ravana, Kansha, or Karna since they have a history of misbehaving with women.

Even after the death of her hundred boys, a Gandhari does not become enraged with Draupadi but instead asks for forgiveness for her sons' rudeness.

In India, 91% of rapists are forced to leave their town, and they are pushed by none other than their own family members.
When a regular Indian father gets upset, he may kick his son, but he never slaps his daughter.

I am India, where a typical father spends his entire life's earnings on making his daughter's world a joyful one.

I am Lakshmi, and my daughters are Lakshmi as well.
I am India, where a father's heart beats for his sons and his soul beats for his daughters.
Modern ills resulting from the transition of rudeness in civilization may have extinguished the hue of joy associated with the birth of daughters, but the father is still the happiest when his daughter smiles.
I am India with hundred-crore children who have yet to pass the line of decency! Ram, Krishna, and Shiva all exist within them... Among them, some Radha, Meera, and Anusuiya smile fearlessly...

I am the India whose faith still seeps through its veins.
The eunuchs' crude laughter does not diminish the society's status; those who attack the nation for a living may be famous, but they are not respected.

I am that India, whose worth is judged by nature, and on whose head Tilak places the sun.

My name is India...

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I’ve always felt that the luckiest people I know had a talent for recognizing circumstances, not of their own making, that were conducive to a favorable outcome and their ability to quickly take advantage of them.

In other words, dumb luck was just that, it required no awareness on the person’s part, whereas “smart” luck involved awareness followed by action before the circumstances changed.

So, was I “lucky” to be born when I was—nothing I had any control over—and that I came of age just as huge databases and computers were advancing to the point where I could use those tools to write “What Works on Wall Street?” Absolutely.

Was I lucky to start my stock market investments near the peak of interest rates which allowed me to spend the majority of my adult life in a falling rate environment? Yup.