Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam: The World is a song, and we are one

New Delhi [India], April 5 (ANI): In the quiet strains of Blue Spanish Eyes, there lies a melody that transcends borders, a tune that whispers of longing and unity, of love that knows no boundaries. This song, with its haunting notes and tender lyrics, becomes a metaphor for our collective yearning--a world where divisions dissolve and humanity stands as one.
The ancient Indian philosophy of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam, translating to "The world is one family," echoes this sentiment. It calls upon us to see beyond the artificial lines drawn on maps, beyond the colors of our flags, and into the shared soul that binds us all. This principle, rooted in the Maha Upanishad, doesn't belong to one faith, one region, or one people--it belongs to all who wish to live together, not in spite of their differences but because of them. It urges us to embrace a universal brotherhood, a sisterhood of souls.
And this vision, timeless and borderless, came to life for me in the most personal of moments. Just the other day, Joyce Chechi--the mother of my friends, Amrita Arora and Malaika Arora--told me something that made me pause. She said, simply and fondly, that Blue Spanish Eyes is one of her favorite songs. A small thing, a casual revelation, but it landed deep. Because it was a song I'd heard in my own home growing up. A song my parents--my mother from Delhi and my father, too--played and loved. It drifted out of radios and cassette decks during long evenings, threading its way through the lives of people who had never been to Spain, never even left India at the time, but felt something familiar in that voice, in that longing, in that melody.
My mother and Joyce Chechi are from different worlds within India--north and south, Hindi-speaking and Malayalam-speaking. They never met. But they share this song, and in that shared tune lies a profound truth: they belonged to a generation that didn't allow the smallness of mind to dictate the vastness of their vision. They were from a time when India was still young, still forging its post-colonial identity, still finding its voice amid the din of a fractured world. But they didn't retreat into narrow definitions of what it meant to be Indian. They didn't limit their dreams to the borders of a nation or a map. They expanded. They absorbed. They listened.

There was no internet. No streaming. No globalization in the way we understand it today. And yet they were global. Not because they traveled--many of them didn't--but because they tuned in. They exposed themselves to the world, and the world was theirs. They didn't need permission. They didn't wait for the world to come to them. They reached out with radios and records, letters and language. They dreamed bigger than the constraints handed down to them by colonial histories and patriarchal norms. And somehow, despite all they lacked materially, they had an abundance of openness. That was their superpower.
Blue Spanish Eyes wasn't just a song. It was a passport. A permission slip to feel deeply, to imagine broadly, to connect across oceans. That Joyce Chechi and my mother share this affection, this quiet inheritance of melody, is not a coincidence. It's a symbol. A thread in the great loom of our shared human experience. A reminder that the world doesn't belong to those who hoard power--it belongs to those who love.
This spirit of openness is the very spirit we must recover and protect. Because while people like my mother and Joyce Chechi found connection in melody, our modern world seems to be fraying at the seams. The rise of authoritarian figures, the clamor of extreme ideologies, and the widening chasms of inequality threaten to drown out the harmonious chords of unity. In the Middle East, Africa, and across the Global South, nations rich in culture and history find themselves at crossroads, their paths often obstructed by the remnants of colonial shadows and the weight of modern-day exploitation.
But the essence of Blue Spanish Eyes is not just in its melancholy; it's in its hope. The promise to return, to reunite, mirrors our own potential to come together, to mend the fractures that separate us. Emerging nations like India, Brazil, and South Africa stand poised to lead not through domination but through collaboration. Their ascent offers an opportunity to redefine leadership--not as a hierarchy of power but as a symphony of voices, each contributing its unique note to the global chorus.
In this rise, we must remember the lessons of the past. The colonizers of yesteryears extracted wealth, silenced cultures, and imposed their will, leaving scars that have yet to heal. As we forge ahead, let us not mirror those missteps. Instead, let our progress be measured by how we uplift others, how we ensure that no nation, no community, is left in the shadows. And in this endeavor, we must also extend our hands to those from the colonizing nations, not with retribution, but with an invitation to join in building a world where dignity is universal, and humanity is our shared identity.
Blue Spanish Eyes speaks of a gaze that lingers, that holds within it the depth of emotion and the weight of unspoken words. Let that gaze be our reflection--a mirror to our collective conscience. Let it remind us that beyond politics, beyond policies, it's the human connection that endures. In the face of leaders who wield power without compassion, who prioritize greed over grace, let us be the counterpoint. Let our actions compose a ballad of empathy, our policies a sonnet of inclusion.
The song's melody, timeless and borderless, calls us to a dance of unity. As the notes rise and fall, so do our hopes and challenges. But together, in step with one another, we can create a rhythm that celebrates our shared humanity. Let Blue Spanish Eyes be more than a song; let it be an allegory for our time--a reminder that even in moments of separation, the promise of reunion, of coming together, remains.
In embracing the philosophy of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam, we acknowledge that our destinies are intertwined, that the joys and sorrows of one ripple across the ocean of humanity. Let this understanding guide our ascent, ensuring that as we rise, we do so together, leaving no one behind, and welcoming all to the family that is humanity.
Let this be our return. To tenderness. To wisdom. To the gaze of a song that connects strangers across time and space. Let us carry forward the gifts our mothers gave us--not in wealth, but in the wideness of their hearts. And may history remember us not for what we took, but for how deeply we cared. (ANI/Suvir Saran)
Disclaimer: Suvir Saran is a Masterchef, Author, Hospitality Consultant And Educator. The views expressed in this article are his own.