You could easily call Rahul Dev Burman the Gulzar of the musical world. Not just because decades before Vishal Bhardwaj, Pancham and Gulzar epitomized the ultimate duet of a meaningful lyricist and an experimental composer, but because within Pancham the musician, there always lived a Gulzar.

Just as Gulzar altered the grammar of film lyrics, discovered new imagery, and shifted the audience’s sensibilities with his pen, RD Burman did the exact same for Hindi film music. He didn’t just step out of the shadow of his father, SD Burman; he also steered clear of the established tracks laid down by composers like Salil Chowdhury, Naushad, Kalyanji-Anandji, and Shankar-Jaikishan. He chose an entirely new, uninhibited path of experimentation.

Credit for the success of Pancham Da’s music is also given to the superstar of that era, Rajesh Khanna, who popularized the songs by lip-syncing them in his signature style. Yet, he could perhaps only do so because RD’s music afforded him that creative freedom. Shunning the addiction of purely commercial success throughout his long career, Pancham did not just alter the temperament of Hindi film music; he subtly transformed the cinema and its audience as well. Through continuous, fresh experiments, he constantly hooked the audience to entirely new flavors of music.

While the music directors who followed him often overindulged in Western influences, Pancham remained that rare, distinct composer who never let the Western elements disrupt the balance of the melody beloved by Indians. One can easily divide Hindi film music into two eras: before RD and after RD. Listening to just a few songs from either period makes the transformation—from song structure to melodies—instantly recognizable.

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Pancham’s initial training in music took place under the watchful eye of his father, rooted in the classical Hindustani music that defined SD Burman’s temperament. Yet, his inclination always leaned toward Western music. He deeply listened to foreign musicians of his time who mastered various genres of Western music. From rock bands to jazz, Latin, Spanish, and the music of any land that could reach India—Pancham studied it all with profound depth.

Several anecdotes circulate about how Rahul Dev Burman earned the moniker ‘Pancham’. Some believe that as an infant, he cried in several different notes, prompting his family to call him Pancham! Others say that when Ashok Kumar heard him repeatedly saying ‘Pa’ as a child, he named him Pancham. However, Manna Dey recalled asking SD Burman about it, who replied, “When he cried at birth, he cried in the fifth note (Pancham), which is ‘Pa’. So, I named him Pancham.”

Pancham began his film career as an assistant to his father. He practiced the tabla and vocal modulations under Pandit Brajen Biswas and learned the sarod from Ustad Ali Akbar Khan. He was also an exceptional mouth organ player; the iconic mouth organ piece in ‘Hai Apna Dil To Awara’ (picturized on Dev Anand and sung by Hemant Kumar) was played by him. At that point, he hadn’t yet become an assistant to the father who would not only provide the bedrock for his music, but in whose studio the very foundation of his personal life would also be laid. Pancham’s first meeting with his second wife, Asha Bhosle, happened during one of his father’s music sittings in 1953, when Asha came to the studio to record a song for the film ‘Armaan’. It was there that SD first introduced Asha to a remarkably thin and school-going Pancham.

Pancham never passed his matriculation exams; he left his studies behind to immerse himself entirely in the music. His second meeting with Asha took place in 1957 during the making of ‘Nau Do Gyarah’, which featured SD’s music. Asha had come to the studio to rehearse, and there she saw Pancham for the second time, sitting on the floor, playing an instrument. A few years later, in 1966, Pancham married Rita Patel, but the marriage lasted only until 1971. The reason was his overwhelming preoccupation with films. The girl who had married him out of admiration for his music ultimately left him because of his total obsession with that very music.

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After years of growing closer, Pancham and Asha Bhosle chose each other as life partners in 1980. Though their personal duet could not sustain each other until the very end, their musical partnership became immortal. They complemented each other so beautifully that Asha went on to sing more than 800 film songs for Pancham.

The serendipitous twist of fate that transformed him from his father’s musical assistant into an independent music director walked right up to Pancham within the very walls of SD’s studio itself. Mehmood had visited the studio to rope in SD for his film ‘Chhote Nawab’. However, after seeing Pancham play the tabla (and since SD had declined the film), Mehmood signed Pancham on the spot. With the song ‘Matwali Ankhon Wale’ from his 1961 debut film, he began unleashing his Western-infused musical flair. Yet, the same film contained ‘Ghar Aaja Ghir Aaye Badra’ in Lata Mangeshkar’s voice—a pure Hindustani classical track that showcased an uncompromising grip on melody. Listening to this, one can understand just how profound a grasp of music this composer possessed even during his very first film—long before he would go on to create wonders in the years to come.

There has always been a debate over whether SD composed songs for Pancham or if Pancham completed SD’s tracks when he was unwell. Some in the industry believe there are several songs where Pancham composed the mukhda (opening lines) and SD finished the rest, and vice versa. Many anecdotes clearly state that several of SD’s massive hits were originally composed by RD, even though he only took credit as an assistant. Songs like ‘Gaata Rahe Mera Dil’ from Guide and ‘Kora Kagaz’ from Aradhana credit SD Burman as the composer, but their melodies were crafted by Pancham.

Pancham often found it challenging to set Gulzar’s lyrics to a tune. Gulzar’s style of writing did not conform to traditional poetic meters, and stories from Pancham’s associates reveal that he always had to put in extra effort to compose for Gulzar. The famous anecdote surrounding the song ‘Mera Kuch Saamaan’ is now legendary: when Gulzar brought him the lyrics, an exasperated Pancham snapped, saying that tomorrow he might bring a copy of The Times of India and ask him to tune that as well! Later, in tandem with Asha Bhosle, Pancham composed that immortal song in just ten to fifteen minutes.

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Whether it is Ijaazat, Aandhi, Parichay, Kitaab, Kinara, Masoom, or Dil Padosi Hai—the songs born from the collaboration of Gulzar and Pancham will remain timeless. They also stand as a testament to a friendship forged between a lyricist and a composer that lasted until the end. This is evident not just in the nazms (poems) Gulzar wrote about Pancham, but also in the way Gulzar’s eyes well up with tears every single time Pancham’s name comes up.

For many, Pancham Da was the Nalanda of music; for others, an IIT or an IIM. He was an academy in himself, a school from which not only his immediate successors and the generation that followed (Bappi Lahiri, Anu Malik) learned, but even highly successful modern composers like Vishal-Shekhar, Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy, Shantanu Moitra, and Vishal Bhardwaj continue to draw deep inspiration from his melodies. Even in Amit Trivedi’s music, Pancham’s footprint is unmistakably visible. Sujoy Ghosh’s vibrant debut film, Jhankaar Beats, was an outright tribute to this very ‘Boss’ of music. Coming across Pancham in that film still warms the heart—”Do you know who the Boss was?”

Pancham also experimented extensively with his own voice and unconventional instruments, generating a distinct soundscape never heard before in Hindi cinema. Think of the song ‘Duniya Mein Logon Ko’ from the Rajesh Khanna-starrer Apna Desh. The first things that come to mind are the astonishing breath control in the “Haha..ha..hahaha” and the raspy, high-pitched “Tara tara tara tara tara”. Just as a later generation was left spellbound by AR Rahman’s early tracks, listeners of Pancham’s era were filled with disbelief. They wondered how a composer could craft a song where the brilliance emerged not from traditional vocals or standard instruments, but from a bizarre play of breath and vocal textures.

Such unique experiments were a regular feature of RD Burman’s music. He ran a gurgling female voice through a sound processor to churn out the chilling entry theme for Amitabh Bachchan’s alter-ego in Satte Pe Satta. Sometimes he scraped two pieces of sandpaper together, and at other times, he ran a small comb over a surface to generate rhythm. Sneha Khanwalkar fascinated us much later by discovering raw sounds in her show Sound Tripping, but Pancham was doing this decades ahead of his time. He would sit through the night recording falling rain or the chirping of crickets. He blew into empty glass bottles to craft the background track for ‘Mehbooba Mehbooba’ in Sholay, and once even tapped on an assistant’s bare back to extract an entirely unique resonance from a dholak.

Yet, a composer so consumed by his passion could not escape the vortex of failure. Post-1985, a phase began in his life that no artist should have to endure, but one that inevitably visits everyone in an industry known for saluting only the rising sun. When your work stops hitting the mark, and the setting sun is left to walk alone. RD spent a long time in isolation as friends and industry well-wishers drifted away.

This composer, considered a certified hitmaker until 1985, saw the music of his next 27 films fail commercially, and this string of failures broke him deeply. Although the soundtracks of films from this period like Ijaazat, Parinda, Gardish, and Libaas were hailed in subsequent years as anywhere from exceptional to masterpieces, the man everyone calls a genius today was deeply marginalized and humiliated in his final days. Subhash Ghai signed him for Ram Lakhan (1989), only to abruptly replace him with Laxmikant-Pyarelal one day without even bothering to inform Pancham directly. Pancham, who had suffered a heart attack in 1988, reportedly remarked after the Ram Lakhan incident: “Just because I went away for a bypass surgery, he bypassed me entirely.”

This deeply humiliating blow wounded Pancham profoundly. He could neither come to terms with it nor recover from the betrayal of a close assistant. Many film personalities remember him in his final days as a melancholic and desperately lonely man, with some attributing his fatal heart attack to this deep sense of isolation and depression.

But rare are those who answer all their failures and humiliations solely through their work. RD Burman delivered exactly that kind of resounding reply to the world with his final film album. As the story goes, director Vidhu Vinod Chopra was adamant about hiring RD Burman for his 1994 film 1942: A Love Story, but the music label that bought the rights resisted having a “faded star” score the film. Vidhu refused to back down—as he seldom does. 1942: A Love Story did not just gift listeners immortal, romance-drenched anthems penned by Javed Akhtar; it also earned RD Burman his third Filmfare Award for Best Music Director—a career spanning from the 1960s to the 1980s where he had won it only twice before. It came posthumously.

A song written by Javed Akhtar for someone else felt as though it was destined for him—

“Jaate jaate wo mujhe achhi nishani de gaya,
Umr bhar dohraunga aisi kahani de gaya.”
(In leaving, he left me a beautiful token;
he gave me a story I will repeat for a lifetime.)

(To understand Pancham Da better and faster, do watch Brahmanand Singh’s two documentaries: ‘Knowing Pancham’ and ‘Pancham Unmixed’. Our own horizon of information expanded through them, as did this article.)

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1. Made for everyone, not just trained voices

Unlike many national anthems, Jana Gana Mana stays within a comfortable vocal range and moves mostly step by step. Set in a simple and calm scale (Raga Alhaiya Bilawal), its melody is very easy to sing for trained singers and ordinary crowds alike.

The US national anthem, The Star-Spangled Banner, sits at the other extreme. It is notoriously difficult to sing—even for professional singers—which is why it is often performed, lip-synced, or played instrumentally. Vande Mataram, too, is musically more demanding and suits trained voices better than mixed crowds.

Globally, Jana Gan Man ranks among the easier national anthems to sing, alongside Japan’s Kimigayo, Canada’s O Canada, Israel’s Hatikvah and Denmark’s Der er et yndigt land. It is far more accessible than many other anthems such as The Star-Spangled Banner, France’s La Marseillaise, or Italy’s Il Canto degli Italiani or even UK’s God Save the King.

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2. A collective song, not a solo performance

Many of us who have regularly sung Jana Gana Mana in our schools can easily recall that it is meant for collective participation, not individual performances. It sounds dignified even when sung imperfectly by large groups and discourages vocal artistry or unnecessary personal touches to the poem. This quality makes Jana Gana Mana suitable for schools, stadiums, state ceremonies, and international events.

Many national anthems are more suited as performance pieces, where soloists try to own the song rather than guide collective singing. Such songs find a limited role in the everyday singing of normal citizens.

Vande Mataram also invites individual interpretations due to its construct and emotional history. It gets associated more with powerful solo or choral renditions than with uniform, standardised singing. This performative quality is part of its appeal—but also why it works better as a national song than as a national anthem.

Jana Gana Mana, by contrast, is meant to sound more or less the same wherever it is sung, allowing everyone to participate equally rather than turning it into a performance.

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3. Perfect length and structure for public life

At around 52 seconds, Jana Gana Mana is long enough to feel solemn and short enough to fit naturally into public events. It has a clearly defined beginning and end, with a simple melody and uniform tempo that remain consistent across settings.

The Star-Spangled Banner has four stanzas, but only the first is commonly sung. The remaining verses are rarely remembered or performed, creating a gap between the official anthem and the version that exists in public practice.

Vande Mataram might have faced a related difficulty had it been chosen as the national anthem. Quite apart from the well-known debates around its religious imagery, the full song is long, musically demanding, and linguistically dense, which could have made it difficult to sing, remember, and practise regularly in everyday public life.

Jana Gana Mana avoids these issues. The version adopted as the national anthem is complete in itself, easy to sing, and naturally suited to repeated public use. This explains why it has remained consistent and durable across generations.

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4. Restraint for unity

Many national anthems are meant to stir strong emotions—defiance, pride, or triumph. Jana Gana Mana takes a quieter route. It affirms unity without asking citizens to feel a specific emotion.

This restraint is important in a diverse country like India. The anthem encourages everyone to stand together rather than being tied to any single identity or ideology. It seems perfectly compatible with the core values of a modern constitutional republic.

Vande Mataram, by contrast, is emotionally charged by design. Its imagery and tone might have worked spectacularly during a phase in the freedom struggle, but a progressive democracy benefits better from a song that can be sung daily without causing emotional or ideological tensions.

India’s choice aligns with restrained anthems like Japan’s Kimigayo, rather than the more martial anthems of countries like France or Russia.

5. Elevated language that remains accessible

Jana Gana Mana uses Sanskrit words, but they are used in a very simple manner. It avoids complicated metaphors, and even when the words are not fully understood, its tone and structure make it very easy to follow and understand.

Vande Mataram, by contrast, uses a mix of Sanskrit and Bengali. Its poetic and devotional words give it strong emotional power, but they also make it harder to understand and sing.

Many national anthems struggle to strike a right balance. Some rely on strong historical, religious, or military words, while others are tied to specific events. Jana Gana Mana avoids these problems by keeping the words neutral and suggestive—one reason it has remained relevant across generations.

Vande Mataram remains an important national song, deeply linked to India’s freedom struggle and collective memory. It gave voice to a nation rising in protest and hope. Jana Gana Mana, however, best serves a different purpose. It is a daily, shared expression of unity in an independent, diverse, and constitutional republic. It gives voice to a nation that chose to live together—quietly, equally, and over time.

During the Lok Sabha elections, Prime Minister Narendra Modi, in his election rally in Udhampur, described meat-eating as going against Indian culture. A few months before that, Congress leader Rahul Gandhi went to the house of RJD president Lalu Prasad Yadav. There he cooked and ate mutton with Lalu Yadav and his daughter Misa Bharti and even got it packed for his sister Priyanka Gandhi. He also shared this cooking-eating on YouTube. In this context and the election atmosphere, without directly naming anyone, Prime Minister Narendra Modi said that the leaders of the Congress and the "India" alliance "enjoy cooking mutton in the month of 'Sawan' and not only that, they make videos of it and try to provoke the people of the country." He further said that "this is their (opposition leaders') 'Mughaliya' thinking, going beyond appeasement."

If you search for "non-veg food controversy" on Google, you'll likely find news of a related dispute in India almost every other month. These range from cases of restaurants mistakenly serving non-vegetarian dishes to customers who ordered vegetarian meals, to the outrage of some lawyers in the Supreme Court over the availability of non-vegetarian food during Navratri. In 2022, violence even broke out between student groups at Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU) over this issue. Late last year, a controversy arose at the Kannada Literary Conference in Karnataka regarding non-vegetarian food.

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Numerous such examples can be easily found, demonstrating that the debate surrounding vegetarian versus non-vegetarian food is not only nationwide but has also been ongoing in various forms for a long time. However, in recent years, this debate has taken a new turn, with dietary choices, clothing, and modes of worship increasingly becoming tools for political maneuvering rather than simply matters of personal preference.

Is meat-eating un-indian?

Regarding the ongoing debate on vegetarianism versus meat-eating, a common criticism of meat consumption is that it contradicts Indian culture. The rationale given is that Sanatan Dharma (Hinduism) emphasizes non-violence (ahimsa), considering the killing of any living being a great sin, and killing for food the most reprehensible act. It is further argued that meat-eating is prohibited in the Vedas and therefore incompatible with an Indian lifestyle. Additionally, meat-eating is often labeled as un-Indian, with the claim that it was imported from foreign cultures.

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However, if we examine Ayurveda, a prominent and ancient branch of Indian culture, tradition, and lifestyle, a different picture emerges. Ayurvedic texts, which instruct on the health of body and mind, clearly and repeatedly mention the consumption of meat, not only as medicine but also as part of a healthy diet. Before discussing specific examples, it's important to note that the 'Charanavyuha Sutra' (a text describing the branches of the Vedas) designates Ayurveda as an upaveda of the Rigveda. This suggests at least a broad historical acceptance of meat-eating within the Vedic tradition.

According to Hindu scriptures, the history of Ayurvedic literature is linked to deities like Brahma, Indra, and Dhanvantari. This means that those who have faith in Indian culture and Sanatan Dharma should have no doubt about its antiquity. Moreover, the three great sages who composed Ayurveda – Charaka, Vagbhata, and Sushruta – lived at least fifteen hundred years ago from today. Among them, the lifetime of Rishi Charaka is considered to be before the Common Era. This implies that it would not be correct to call meat-eating imported or to say that it was brought to India by Muslims or Westerners.

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Which texts of Ayurveda mention meat consumption?

Among the ancient texts of Ayurveda, the three most prominent are the Charaka Samhita, the Sushruta Samhita, and the Ashtanga Hridaya. The Sushruta Samhita, authored by Rishi Sushruta, emphasizes surgical procedures. The other two texts, by Rishi Charaka and Vagbhata, focus on dietary and lifestyle guidelines for maintaining health. Ayurvedic understanding of physical health centers on balancing the body's three doshas – Vata, Pitta, and Kapha. Mental health, in contrast, is assessed by the relative balance of the three gunas – Sattva, Rajas, and Tamas – aiming to maximize Sattva and minimize Rajas and Tamas. Briefly, Rajas is associated with attachment, Tamas with lethargy, and Sattva with self-awareness.

When discussing meat consumption in Ayurvedic texts, the Charaka Samhita is a primary reference. Its twenty-seventh chapter, within the Sutra Sthana (the first part of the Charaka Samhita), details recommended dietary components and categorizes food and drink into twelve groups: Shukadhanyavarga (grains), Shamidhanyavarga (pulses), Mamsavarga(meat), Shakavarga (vegetables), Phalavarga (fruits), Haritavarga (leafy greens/salads), Madyavarga (alcoholic beverages), Jalavarga (water), Dugdhavarga (milk products), Ikshuvarga (sugars/sweeteners), Kritannavarga (prepared foods/soups), and Aharopayogi varga (spices). Notably, meat (Mamsavarga) is listed third, and there is a shloka (verse) associated with it:

‘शरीरबृंहणे नान्यत् खाद्यं मांसाद् विशिष्यते
इति वर्गस्तृतीयोअयं मांसानां परिकीर्तितः’

Sharīra-bṛṁhaṇe nānyat khādyaṁ māṁsād viśiṣyate
Iti vargastṛtīyo’yaṁ māṁsānāṁ parikīrtitaḥ

(Charaka Samhita, Sutrasthanam Chapter 27 - Shloka 87)

Translation: For building up the body, there is no food superior to meat. Thus, this third category, that of meats, has been described.

Like Rishi Charaka, Rishi Vagbhata also categorizes food and drink into seven groups in the sixth chapter - Annasvarupavijnana - of the Sutrasthanam section of the Ashtanga Hridaya. The meat category (Mamsavarga) is placed fourth. The related shloka (verse) is as follows:

इत्यौषधवर्गः
शूकशिम्बीजपक्वान्नमांसशाकफलौषधैः
वर्गितैरन्नलेशोऽयमुक्तो नित्योपयोगिकः

Ityauṣadhavargaḥ
Śūkaśimbījapakvānnamāṁsaśākaphalauṣadhaiḥ
Vargitairannaleśo’ yamukto nityopayogikaḥ

(Ashtanga Hridayam, Sutrasthanam Chapter 6 - Shloka 172)

Translation: Thus, this is the category of medicinal substances: grains (shūka), legumes (śimbī), cooked rice (pakvānna), meat (māṁsa), vegetables (śāka), fruits (phala), and medicinal herbs (auṣadha). This classification of food is considered suitable for daily consumption.

It's interesting to note that while today's discussion of meat consumption often centers on chicken, mutton, beef, or perhaps fish and shrimp, Ayurveda describes eight distinct categories of meat: Mriga, Vishkira, Pratuda, Bileshaya, Prasaha, Mahamriga, Jalachara Pakshi, and Matsyavarga. The Mriga and Prasaha groups include animals such as deer, cows, sambar, rabbits, chickens, goats, and sheep. The Vishkira and Pratuda groups encompass various birds, including partridges, peacocks, pigeons, sparrows, and others. Small creatures, known as Bileshaya, include burrowing animals like rats and snakes. Jalachara Pakshi refers to aquatic birds such as swans, cranes, and herons, while Matsyavarga includes various fish, shrimp, algae, and turtles. The Mahamriga group comprises large animals like pigs, buffaloes, and even elephants.

What is Ayurveda's opinion on meat-eating?

By classifying living beings in this way, Vagbhata and Rishi Charaka also clarified in their texts the effects of consuming different meats on the body's Vata, Pitta, and Kapha doshas. For example, Ayurveda describes sparrow meat as "sweet, unctuous, strength-promoting, and semen-promoting," and considers it particularly effective in pacifying Vata dosha and Tridosha (Vata, Pitta, Kapha)." (Charaka Samhita, Sutrasthanam Chapter 27). Ayurvedic texts also specify circumstances under which meat consumption is inappropriate. For instance, they strongly advise overweight individuals to avoid meat. Similarly, women are advised to abstain from meat for at least 12 days postpartum.

The Uttarabhaga—Chikitsasthana section of the Charaka Samhita further details how to prepare and consume specific meats as part of dietary regimens for treating various ailments. Chapter 24, addressing appropriate meat consumption even in the context of alcohol use, states, "A Kapha-predominant individual subsisting on barley and wheat should consume warm foods and the meat of wild animals prepared with black pepper, followed by alcohol consumption.

Furthermore, Ayurveda provides guidelines for identifying meat of good quality, cautioning against consuming meat with visible blue lines, as this may indicate toxicity. The shloka (verse) concerning appropriate meat consumption under normal circumstances is as follows:

‘मांसं सद्योहतं शुद्धं वयःस्थं च भजेत् त्यजेत्
मृतं कृशं भृशं मेद्यं व्याधिवारिविषैर्हतम्’

Māṁsaṁ sadyohataṁ śuddhaṁ vayaḥsthaṁ ca bhajet tyajet
mṛtaṁ kṛśaṁ bhṛśaṁ medyaṁ vyādhivāri-viṣairhatam.

(Ashtanga Hridayam, Sutrasthanam Chapter 6 - Shloka 68)

(Translation: The meat of a young animal that has been killed immediately and cleaned properly should be consumed. The meat of animals that have died on their own, are very weak, very fatty, or have died from any disease, drowning, or poisonous substances should not be eaten.)

Examining some popular contemporary non-vegetarian options through the lens of Ayurveda, we find that chicken and fish are considered fatty, hot in taaseer (nature/potency), and known to promote strength and weight gain. They are described as Kapha-increasing and difficult to digest, making them more suitable for individuals with a predominance of Vata. On the other hand, mutton (goat meat) is regarded as the most suitable meat in Ayurveda. The related shloka states:

नाशीतगुरूस्निग्धं मांसमाजमदोषलम्
शरीरधातु सामान्यादनभिष्यन्दि बृंहणम्

Nāśīta gurusnigdhaṁ māṁsam ājam adoṣalam
Śarīradhātu sāmānyād anabhiṣyandaṁ bṛṁhaṇam

(Charaka Samhita, Sutrasthanam Chapter 27 – Shloka 61)

(Translation: Goat meat is neither too cold in 'taaseer,' nor too slow to digest, nor too fatty. Therefore, goat meat does not aggravate any 'dosha'. Due to the similar properties of human and goat meat, this meat is the most suitable.)

Regarding beef (meat from cows or buffaloes), as previously mentioned, it falls under the Mrigmamsa (deer meat) category. Ayurveda describes buffalo meat as fatty, heating, heavy, nutritious, and aphrodisiac (Charaka Samhita, Sutrasthanam Chapter 27 - Verse 80). Given its fattening and sleep-inducing properties, some Ayurvedic commentators suggest it would be a favorite food of the giant Kumbhakarna, who famously slept for six months. In contrast, and addressing the more controversial topic of cow meat, Ayurveda states that its consumption can alleviate dry cough, colds, occasional fevers, fatigue, weakness, and rheumatism. The related shloka (verse) is as follows:

Despite these attributed qualities, Acharya Charaka considers it the most unwholesome (apathya, Charaka Samhita Chapter 25, Verse 39) among Mrigmamsa. He states that beef increases Vata and slows digestion. Furthermore, Acharya Vagbhata designates it as nindita (condemned) food and advises against its consumption. In summary, while Ayurveda acknowledges some medicinal uses for beef in specific circumstances, it cautions against its regular consumption.

Given the classification of meats discussed earlier in this article, one might assume that Ayurveda advocates making every creature food—except humans. However, this is not the case. According to commentators, Ayurveda emphasizes balance in all aspects of life. Food, milk, and meat are recommended based on individual circumstances and needs, and even water intake is restricted when unnecessary—let alone meat. The related shloka (verse) from the Charaka Samhita states:

अन्नं वृत्तिकारणां श्रेष्ठम, क्षीरं जीवनीयानां, मांसं बृंहणीयानां

Annaṁ vṛttikāraṇāṁ śreṣṭham, kṣīraṁ jīvanīyānāṁ, māṁsaṁ bṛṁhaṇīyānāṁ

(Charaka Samhita, Sutrasthanam Chapter 25 – Shloka 40)

(Translation: Cereals are the best diet for sustenance, milk is the best for giving life, and meat is the most suitable for increasing or strengthening the body.)

Regarding the description of nearly all creatures as potential food sources, Ayurveda states that humans can utilize the meat of appropriate animals medicinally or as part of a therapeutic diet, based on individual needs. Concerning the killing of animals solely for consumption or taste, many Ayurvedic commentators consider it unethical. However, no shloka exists within the core Ayurvedic texts, authored by the original sages, either advocating or explicitly prohibiting it. In this context, some commentators reference a shloka from the Manusmriti: ‘भूतानां प्राणिनः श्रेष्ठाः प्राणिनां बु्द्धिजीविनः’ (bhūtānāṁ prāṇinaḥ śreṣṭhāḥ prāṇināṁ buddhi-jīvinaḥ). This translates to: "Among all forms of existence, living beings are superior, and among living beings, humans are preeminent."

Thus, it could be argued that the scriptures implicitly accept, or at least do not explicitly condemn, the sacrifice of animals for human survival or well-being.

Satyagrah Network created NoCap.News—a media platform designed for Gen Z, speaking their language in a way that truly connects. We knew this was important, but explaining it to those accustomed to Satyagrah’s traditional journalism wasn't easy. Skeptics questioned why we would bring something as "non-serious" as Gen Z’s language into the news space, especially since no serious news media had ever done such a thing for any 'new' generation.

Our response? No generation before Gen Z has shaped a language so distinct, dynamic, and culturally rich that a platform like NoCap could even exist. Gen Z’s ever-evolving language isn’t just its way to look cool or a passing trend—it seems to be a linguistic shift reshaping communication, and it deserves to be taken seriously. Their language reflects their unique experiences and perspectives, and it is essential to acknowledge and understand this to effectively communicate with and engage Generation Z.

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Not just slang

For Gen Z, the internet isn’t just a tool—it’s the environment they were raised in. Having never known a world without instant access to information, they communicate in ways that are fast, informal, and often visual. Social media, instant messaging, and online forums don’t just shape their vocabulary; they redefine how emotions, ideas, and even humor are expressed.

Naturally, Gen Z’s language embraces internet slang. Known for its brevity, wit, and playful reinvention of words, slang thrives in the rapid-fire world of online interactions. But it's not all slang. Many terms associated with Gen Z—like ‘‘rizz’’ (charisma), Oxford’s 2023 Word of the Year, and ‘‘no cap’’ (no lie)—originated in internet subcultures, often rooted in marginalized communities in the U.S., before gaining global traction through social media.

Gen Z's creativity with language goes beyond using just slang or words from specific online communities. They also take existing words and phrases and give them new relevance and meanings. For example, they use the word "wicked," which became popular in the 1980s to mean "great" or "cool." They also use terms like "skibidi," which came from a funny Russian music video online. Even though "skibidi" doesn't have a clear meaning, it's used a lot online. This shows how Gen Z likes to play with language and experiment with new ways to communicate. It's not always about having a set definition for a word, but more about using language in fun and creative ways to connect and express themselves.

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Gen Z uses more than just words to communicate online. They also use lowercase letters, punctuation, and reaction GIFs to express subtle meanings. For example, "lol." with a period can be passive-aggressive, while "lol" without it is more lighthearted. Emojis and GIFs are often used as replies on their own, showing how Gen Z is comfortable with visual communication. Memes like "Distracted Boyfriend" are like shortcuts for complex emotions, showing how Gen Z uses shared online experiences to communicate.

Borderless evolution

The internet has accelerated the pace of language change to an unprecedented degree. In the past, linguistic shifts took years or even decades to spread. Today, a new word or phrase can go viral in hours, reaching millions of people across the globe. This is because Gen Z sees so much online, including new words from influencers, online groups, and even AI. Platforms like TikTok, where trends change quickly, help new words spread and fade fast. For example, "cheugy," which describes something that is outdated, was popular in 2021, but now it's hardly used anymore. This shows how quickly online language can change.

Social media has not only accelerated language evolution but also contributed to a global homogenization of Gen Z language. The younger generation around the world now uses the same slang and phrases, which makes regional differences less noticeable. For example, someone in Britain might say "that's peng," while someone in America might say "that's fire," and someone in Australia might say "heaps" to mean "a lot." But these differences start to disappear because of platforms like TikTok and Instagram. Because of their worldwide reach, Gen Z adopts some of these words collectively and discards others.

This global homogenization is taking place also because Gen Z shares a lot of the same cultural experiences, like music, movies, and other digital content. OTT platforms like Netflix, music platforms like Spotify, and above all, YouTube contribute to this homogenization by providing access to the same content worldwide, blurring regional differences and shaping a shared cultural environment for Gen Z.

The combined effect of this is reshaping traditional language structures too. Distinctions between regional variants of English are fading, leading to a more homogenized version of the language. While this simplifies communication for non-native speakers, it raises concerns among native speakers who fear the loss of regional dialects and cultural identities. For instance, older generations in the U.K. may lament the Americanization of British English, as words like sidewalk (instead of pavement) or vacation (instead of holiday) become more common among younger speakers.

The rebellion factor

For Gen Z, language is more than just a way to talk to each other or look “drip” (stylish)—it's also a way to rebel. They create their own unique ways of speaking and writing, which goes against old grammar rules and changes how people interact. Unlike older generations, who learned to write formally, Gen Z likes things informal and efficient. They often skip capital letters, shorten words, and use pictures and symbols to express themselves.

This defiance in how they use language isn't really on purpose. It's more like a natural reaction to the social pressures and the online world they live in. Teenagers use slang to be different from older people, and when adults start using their words, they find new ones. For example, when "rizz" became a popular word in 2023, some Gen Z started using "frizzer" instead.

This constant change helps Gen Z figure out who they are and where they belong. Their language also shows their values and beliefs. Words like "woke" (aware of social injustices), "ally" (someone who supports marginalized groups), and "cancel" (to stop supporting someone or something because of their offensive actions or words) have political and social meanings, showing how their new ways of speaking are connected to bigger cultural trends and social concerns.

The future

The future of Gen Z’s language is uncertain, but one thing is clear: it will continue to evolve rapidly. As new technologies emerge and social media platforms rise and fall, Gen Z will adapt their language to reflect the shifting digital landscape.

Past linguistic trends offer clues about what might endure and what might fade. Words like "LOL" and "FOMO," which originated from internet chatrooms, have become mainstream and even made it into dictionaries. Meanwhile, terms like “cheugy" and “rizz” have faded into obscurity, illustrating the ephemeral nature of digital slang.

Looking ahead, things like AI and virtual reality could change language even more. As people use AI tools like ChatGPT every day, it might change how they talk and add new ways to communicate.Also, as virtual reality becomes more popular, people might create new ways to communicate that mix words with actions and experiences within these virtual worlds.And as the world becomes more connected, languages might blend together, making the lines between them less clear.

While most discussions about AI focus on its technical capabilities—how it can code, calculate, or optimize—few delve into its profound cultural impact. AI is not just a tool; it’s a cultural force reshaping our societies in ways we are only beginning to understand. From the art we create and the music we compose to the languages we speak and the identities we embrace, AI is quietly but powerfully altering the fabric of human expression. This transformation is not confined to one region or culture; it’s a global phenomenon with far-reaching implications. So how exactly are AI models like ChatGPT, Gemini, and DeepSeek redefining creativity, communication, and identity across the world?

Creativity

Art and music have always been mirrors of society, reflecting our emotions, struggles, and aspirations. Today, AI is becoming an active participant in these creative processes, transforming how we create, experience, and preserve cultural expressions.

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Tools like DALL·E, MidJourney, and Stable Diffusion are enabling artists to generate stunning visuals with just a few text prompts. Such AI-generated artworks are not just novelties; they’re winning awards, being auctioned at prestigious galleries, and even challenging our understanding of what it means to be an artist. In the West, an AI-generated portrait titled “Edmond de Belamy” sold for over $400,000 at Christie’s in 2018, sparking debates about the value of human versus machine creativity. In India, artists are using AI to reinterpret traditional art forms, such as creating modern takes on Madhubani paintings or Warli art. These innovations are not just preserving cultural heritage but also making it accessible to a global audience. AI is even being explored in filmmaking, with AI-assisted screenwriting and film restoration gaining traction in both Hollywood and Bollywood.

AI is also revolutionizing the world of music. Tools like OpenAI’s Jukebox and AIVA (Artificial Intelligence Virtual Artist) are composing original music across genres, from classical symphonies to pop hits. For example, Jukebox can generate music in the style of legendary artists, blurring the line between human and machine creativity. In countries like India, AI is playing a crucial role in digitizing and preserving traditional music. Several projects are analyzing and archiving centuries-old musical traditions, ensuring they remain accessible to future generations. Meanwhile, streaming platforms like Spotify and YouTube leverage AI algorithms to curate personalized playlists, introducing listeners to new genres and artists while reinforcing their musical preferences.

However, this shift raises important questions: Who owns AI-generated art or music? Is it the creator who provided the prompt, the developer who designed the AI, or the AI itself? In fact, recent legal debates have emerged over whether AI-generated works can be copyrighted, with courts in different countries offering conflicting rulings. As AI becomes more integrated into the creative world, these questions will only grow more complex. The democratization of creativity is a double-edged sword—while it empowers more people to create, it also risks devaluing the role of human artists and the authenticity of their work.

Language

Language is the cornerstone of culture, and AI is transforming how we communicate. From real-time translation tools to multilingual chatbots, AI is breaking down language barriers and fostering global connections. Tools like Google Translate and DeepL are enabling seamless communication across languages. For instance, a Japanese novelist can now write a story in their native language, and an AI tool can translate it into English, preserving the nuances of the original text. In a linguistically diverse country like India, AI is playing a crucial role in preserving and promoting regional languages. AI-powered platforms are translating ancient Sanskrit texts into modern Indian languages, making them accessible to younger generations. Similarly, AI is helping create educational content in regional dialects, bridging the gap between urban and rural communities.

But AI’s influence on language goes beyond translation. Hybrid languages like Hinglish (Hindi + English) and Spanglish (Spanish + English) have existed for decades, emerging organically from cultural exchange and globalization. However, AI is amplifying their use and reach. With AI-powered tools and platforms, the blending of languages has become more seamless and widespread. For example, social media algorithms often promote content that mixes languages, as it resonates with diverse audiences. Similarly, AI-generated content, such as memes or subtitles, frequently incorporates hybrid languages to appeal to younger, multilingual users. While this fosters creativity and inclusivity, it also raises concerns about the erosion of linguistic purity and the potential loss of traditional dialects. Bias in AI models further complicates this issue, as algorithms trained predominantly on Western data may overlook linguistic diversity and cultural nuances. As AI continues to evolve, it will undoubtedly influence how we express ourselves, but the challenge lies in ensuring that this evolution enriches rather than diminishes our linguistic diversity.

Identity

Identity is deeply tied to culture, and AI is influencing how we see ourselves and others. From personalized content recommendations to AI-curated cultural experiences, our sense of identity is increasingly shaped by algorithms. Social media platforms use AI to curate content that aligns with our interests, creating echo chambers that reinforce our beliefs and biases. This can lead to a fragmented sense of identity, where people are more connected to their online communities than their physical surroundings. Yet, AI is also being used to counteract this fragmentation by fostering a deeper connection to our cultural roots. For example, virtual reality recreations of historical sites like the Taj Mahal or Hampi are allowing people to experience their heritage in entirely new ways. At the same time, AI-powered platforms are helping Indians reconnect with their roots by offering insights into traditional practices and rituals, bridging the gap between the past and the present.

However, this reliance on AI also poses risks. Bias in AI algorithms can perpetuate stereotypes and misrepresentations, while the homogenization of culture threatens to erase unique identities. As AI becomes more embedded in our lives, we must ask: How do we preserve our cultural diversity in the age of machines? The answer lies in striking a balance between innovation and preservation, ensuring that AI enhances rather than diminishes our sense of self.

And

AI’s cultural impact extends beyond art, music, language, and identity—it lies in how these elements intersect to shape society. On one hand, AI is democratizing creativity, making artistic, musical, and linguistic tools more accessible than ever. On the other hand, it raises concerns about job displacement, loss of authenticity, and the widening digital divide.

The rise of AI also presents ethical dilemmas: Who owns the rights to AI-generated content? How can we ensure AI respects cultural sensitivities? As we navigate this cultural shift, these questions demand thoughtful consideration and responsible innovation.

As we look to the future, it’s clear that AI will continue to shape our cultural landscape. Imagine a world where AI-curated cultural experiences are tailored to individual preferences, or where AI-assisted storytelling brings ancient myths to life in immersive ways. The possibilities are endless, but so are the challenges. As we integrate AI into our cultural fabric, the real question remains: Will AI amplify human creativity or redefine it entirely?

In the end, AI is not just a technological marvel; it’s a cultural force reshaping our world. From the art and music we create to the languages we speak and the identities we embrace, AI is influencing every aspect of human expression. While this transformation brings exciting opportunities, it also raises important questions about ethics, authenticity, and diversity. As we navigate this global cultural shift, one thing is clear: The future of culture is not just human—it’s human + AI.