Gold Rush

As the festive season in India is ongoing, jewellers across India are ready, investors tracking bullion prices, and families waiting eagerly for the most “auspicious” day of the year to buy gold. Dhanteras, celebrated two days before Diwali, has long been associated with the purchase of the precious metal, a tradition believed to bring prosperity and good fortune. Similar buying frenzies occur during Akshaya Tritiya, weddings, Karwa Chauth, and harvest festivals, when gold is not merely an adornment but a cultural marker of wealth and status.

Market reports celebrate the crores spent, but beneath the sparkle lies a complex story of culture, aspiration, and economics. Is festival gold-buying a timeless symbol of financial prudence and cultural continuity, or is it a cycle of consumption propelled by social pressure, marketing, and habit?

India’s love affair with gold is centuries old. From the time of the Indus Valley civilisation to the Mauryan emperors to our modern nuclear families, gold has been a medium of exchange, a store of value, and a token of spiritual significance. For millions, gold is not just metal, it is Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth herself. Dhanteras literally means “the thirteenth day of wealth,” and families believe that buying gold on this day invites abundance.

This cultural reverence made economic sense in a pre-banking era. Gold’s intrinsic value and portability provided a hedge against famine, emergency, and currency devaluation. Rural households, lacking access to formal savings mechanism, used jewellery as insurance and collateral. Even today, India remains the world’s second-largest consumer of gold, with annual demand often exceeding 700–800 tonnes. For many, gold remains the most trusted form of intergenerational wealth transfer.

Yet, today’s festival buying is no longer just about family heirlooms or prudent savings. It has evolved into a multi-billion-rupee economic event. According to trade bodies like the All-India Gem and Jewellery Domestic Council, Dhanteras sales often spike by 20–25% year-on-year, depending on price trends. In 2024, for example, despite gold hovering at record highs of around INR61,000 per 10 grams, jewellers reported robust demand, with many urban consumers opting for lighter designs or digital gold to keep up with tradition.

Specific estimates for festival (especially Dhanteras) sales in recent years help show the proportion of demand tied to ritual buying. During Dhanteras in 2024, around 20-22 tonnes of gold were sold, worth nearly INR 16,000 crore. The full jewellery sector during the festival period saw sales in the INR 18,000-20,000 crore.

The annual figures show India’s gold demand continues to be immense, though shifting in nature,

  • In 2024, India’s total gold demand rose to around 802.8 tonnes, up from 761 tonnes in 2023.  
  • The value of gold purchases in 2024 was estimated at INR 5.15 lakh crore (~US$60-70 billion depending on gold price).  
  • Jewellery demand in 2024 was ~ 563 tonnes, with the non-ornamental purchases (coins/bars) making up ~ 239 tonnes.   

These numbers reflect overall demand, not just festival or Dhanteras purchases, but festivals remain a major driver. The data show that although overall demand has often crept upward in value terms (driven by price inflation), the volume of jewellery demand has at times fallen or stagnated. For example, in 2024 jewellery tonnage demand dropped ~2% compared to 2023 even as value increased.

Targeted marketing plays a huge role. Advertisements link gold to auspiciousness and emotional milestones, “Gift prosperity,” “Secure her future,” “Start your Diwali with gold.” Social media influencers and celebrity endorsements reinforce the message that a festival without gold is incomplete. This creates a powerful psychological loop: buying gold is not just desirable, it is expected.

The Dhanteras gold rush is fuelled by a mix of fear and aspiration. Gold retains a near-mystical aura as a hedge against uncertainty. Global financial instability, inflation, and geopolitical tensions often send prices higher, reinforcing the perception of gold as a “safe haven.” For middle-class families, a few grams bought every year feels like both a celebration and a safety net.

But there is also the quieter pressure of status. Weddings, festivals, and social gatherings often showcase jewellery as a measure of success. The fear of “falling behind” relatives or neighbours can nudge families, especially in smaller towns and rural areas, into stretching budgets and even getting into debt trap to maintain appearances. What was once a hedge against uncertainty can change into a source of financial strain.

From a macroeconomic perspective, India’s gold obsession is a double edged sword. While the jewellery industry supports millions of jobs, from miners to artisans to retailers, it also represents a massive outflow of capital. India imports more than 90% of its gold, spending billions of dollars in foreign exchange each year. Economists have long argued that this “dead investment” locks up household savings in a non-productive asset, diverting funds from sectors like manufacturing, infrastructure, or technology that could generate higher returns and employment.

For individual households, the opportunity cost is equally significant. A family buying gold at festival-time may forgo investing in equity markets, mutual funds, or even bank deposits that could provide compounding growth. Gold prices, while generally stable over the long term, are not immune to volatility as we are witnessing now with gold prices rising to INR 120K+ per 10 grams. The metal offers no dividends or interest; its value lies only in resale or emotional satisfaction.

Beyond economics lies an often-ignored cost, the environmental impact of gold mining. Extracting gold is an energy-intensive process that generates toxic waste and contributes to deforestation, soil erosion, and water pollution. Globally, gold mining is associated with mercury contamination and significant carbon emissions. While India imports much of its gold, domestic refining and artisanal mining also pose environmental challenges.

Consumers rarely connect their festival purchases to these ecological consequences. The cultural narrative of purity and prosperity masks the fact that every bangle and coin carries a hidden footprint. Ethical sourcing, such as recycled gold or fair-trade certifications, is slowly gaining traction among urban, environmentally conscious buyers, but remains a niche segment.

As India’s economy digitises, a quiet transformation is underway. Younger consumers, especially in cities, are exploring alternatives to physical gold. Digital gold platforms, gold exchange-traded funds (ETFs), and sovereign gold bonds (SGBs) allow individuals to invest in gold without worrying about purity, storage, or theft.

These products offer flexibility and sometimes better returns. Sovereign gold bonds, for instance, pay annual interest and are exempt from capital gains tax if held to maturity. Yet they also challenge the cultural core of gold-buying: there is no ornament to wear, no glitter to display, no festive ritual of walking into a jewellery shop on Dhanteras. For many families, the emotional experience is as important as the investment itself. Still, the shift is undeniable. Digital gold platforms have reported double-digit growth during recent festivals, particularly among younger investors who value convenience and liquidity over tradition.

So where does this leave the Indian consumer? To dismiss festival gold-buying as mere superstition would be simplistic. Traditions provide continuity, identity, and joy. For rural households with limited access to financial products, gold remains a practical and trusted savings tool.

But to ignore the economic, environmental, and social pressures embedded in this ritual is equally shortsighted. When a practice once rooted in prudence becomes a compulsive annual expense, it risks becoming a trap. The symbolism of prosperity can mask financial strain, and the celebration of abundance can conceal environmental degradation. Festivals can retain their joy without becoming economic burdens. A few grams of gold bought with intention, rather than compulsion, can honour tradition while respecting modern realities.

Dhanteras will always hold a special place in the Indian calendar. The sight of families entering jewellery shops, and elders blessing the new purchase is undeniably heartwarming. Yet it is worth remembering that true prosperity lies not in the weight of gold but in the wisdom of choice.

As India strides into a digital, climate conscious future, perhaps the most auspicious act is not buying more gold, but buying it mindfully acknowledging its beauty, its history, and its hidden costs. The goddess of wealth, after all, smiles brightest on those who balance tradition with thoughtfulness.

Buy thoughtfully. Celebrate responsibly. Live consciously.

Top 10 must-read Books for Social Impact Professionals

Social impact professionals face challenges that require both strategic thinking and deep empathy. Whether working in non-profits, CSR, philanthropy, development agencies, or social enterprises, professionals in these fields need to balance passion for change with evidence-based approaches to development. Books remain one of the most powerful ways to gain insight, inspiration, and tools for creating sustainable social impact.

I have put together a list of ten must-read books that every social impact professional should consider adding to their shelf, as they are on mine. These books are on leadership, systems thinking, innovation, fundraising, evaluation, and purpose. They provide both the vision and the practical tools needed to make a lasting difference.

1. “How to Change the World: Social Entrepreneurs and the Power of New Ideas” by David Bornstein

David Bornstein profiles pioneering social entrepreneurs who are solving some of the world’s toughest problems with creativity and determination. From rural health initiatives to innovative education programs; from rural poverty in India to discrimination against gypsies in Central Europe; from industrial pollution in the United States to child prostitution in Thailand, the book shows how individuals and organizations can catalyse systemic change. For social impact professionals, it provides concrete case studies and a roadmap for thinking beyond short-term solutions. It offers inspiration and practical lessons in scaling impact, showing how bold ideas combined with persistence can transform communities.

2. “The Blue Sweater: Bridging the Gap Between Rich and Poor in an Interconnected World” by Jacqueline Novogratz

Jacqueline Novogratz, founder of Acumen, blends personal narrative with the evolution of impact investing. Her journey from traditional philanthropy to patient capital investing shows how financial innovation can tackle poverty while respecting dignity. It challenges professionals to rethink charity and aid, emphasizing sustainable solutions that empower rather than create dependency.

3. “Creating a World Without Poverty: Social Business and the Future of Capitalism” by Muhammad Yunus

Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus introduces the concept of “social business”, a business model designed not for profit maximization but for solving social problems. Drawing on his work with Grameen Bank and microfinance, Yunus presents a radical yet practical vision of blending entrepreneurship with social change. It inspires a new way of seeing markets and entrepreneurship as allies in social development, especially for professionals exploring hybrid models of impact.

4. “The Lean Startup” by Eric Ries

At first glance, this book seems more suited to tech entrepreneurs than social impact leaders. Yet, its core idea of test, learn, iterate has transformed the way many social innovations are designed and scaled. Social enterprises and NGOs increasingly use lean principles to reduce waste, validate solutions with communities, and adapt quickly. Because social impact efforts often operate under resource constraints, adopting lean experimentation can make interventions more effective and sustainable.

5. “Measuring What Matters: Tools for Aligning Capital and Impact” by Rodney Schwartz & Geoff Mulgan (or substitute with John Doerr’s “Measure What Matters” depending on focus)

Impact measurement remains one of the most pressing challenges for the field. This book provides frameworks and practical tools for defining, measuring, and aligning impact with mission. It explores case studies of organizations that have successfully embedded impact metrics in their operations. It equips professionals with methods to track progress, communicate value to funders, and ensure accountability without losing sight of mission.

6. “Switch: How to Change Things When Change Is Hard” by Chip Heath and Dan Heath

Social impact work is essentially about behaviour change, whether convincing communities to adopt healthier practices, companies to embrace sustainability, or policymakers to reform systems. “Switch” explains why people resist change and offers strategies to inspire collective action. It’s a practical guide to leading change management in complex social contexts, with evidence-based techniques that can be applied across sectors.

7. “Development as Freedom” by Amartya Sen

Economist and Nobel laureate Amartya Sen reframes development not simply as economic growth but as the expansion of human freedoms. He argues that true development empowers individuals with choices, agency, and opportunities. For anyone engaged in social impact, this book provides a philosophical foundation. It reminds professionals that the goal is not just programs or numbers, but human dignity and freedom.

8. “The Infinite Game” by Simon Sinek

Social impact work is not about short-term wins but about long-term transformation. In “The Infinite Game,” Sinek contrasts finite games (with fixed rules and winners) with infinite ones (driven by purpose and adaptability). Social impact is clearly an infinite game, requiring resilience and continuous rethinking. It equips leaders with the mindset needed to sustain impact, avoid burnout, and build organizations that thrive beyond immediate results.

9. “Winners Take All: The Elite Charade of Changing the World” by Anand Giridharadas

This provocative book critiques the global elite’s role in shaping the social impact landscape. Giridharadas argues that many wealthy philanthropists and corporations pursue impact while preserving the very systems that cause inequality. Even if one disagrees with all its conclusions, it challenges professionals to reflect critically on power, privilege, and accountability in the sector.

10. “The Systems Work of Social Change: How to Harness Connection, Context, and Power to Cultivate Deep and Enduring Change” by Cynthia Rayner and Francois Bonnici

Addressing complex issues like poverty or climate change requires a systems lens. This book offers practical insights into how organizations can shift from isolated interventions to systemic approaches that address root causes. It helps professionals understand complexity, collaborate across sectors, and design interventions that endure over time.

The work of social impact professionals is as inspiring as it is demanding. It calls for creativity, humility, persistence, and continuous learning. The ten books highlighted above represent a spectrum of ideas, from the visionary and philosophical to the highly practical. Together, they offer a toolkit for navigating the challenges of creating social good in a complex, globalized world.Reading these books won’t just sharpen your technical skills, they will also deepen your sense of purpose, expand imagination, and foster resilience. For professionals committed to solving humanity’s most pressing problems, these works serve as companions, guides, and sometimes challengers, reminding us that lasting change is possible when ideas, innovation, and values align.

Algorithmic Self

In today’s digital landscape, our identities are increasingly shaped by algorithms. These complex sets of rules and calculations determine the content we see on social media, the advertisements we encounter, and even the news we consume. This phenomenon, often referred to as the ‘algorithmic self,’ highlights the interplay between technology and personal identity. Algorithmic mechanisms on digital media are powered by social drivers, creating a feedback loop complicating the role of algorithms and existing social structures. 

At the core of the algorithmic self is the idea that our online behaviours and interactions feed into algorithms that, in turn, influence our future actions. Are we becoming the people our feeds want us to be? Scroll long enough on social media platforms like Insta, Tube, or FB and you’ll notice that the content feels uncannily tailored to you. Your feed seems to know what you crave before you do, an oddly perfect mix of travel destinations, recipes, memes, news, workouts, and political takes. This can lead to a more personalised online experience, but it also raises questions about the extent to which our choices are truly our own. What began as a convenience has evolved into something far more consequential. We are not merely using algorithms anymore; we are slowly becoming the selves they design for us.

Algorithms are built to predict and keep us engaged. Every click, pause, like, or scroll is recorded and analysed. In return, the system feeds us more of what we have already consumed. This sounds harmless. After all, who wouldn’t want relevant recommendations? But personalization is never neutral. When a platform rewards the content that hooks us, it amplifies our biases and shrinks our curiosity. Over time, the feedback loop begins to define our worldview, narrowing the range of opinions, art, music, or even relationships we encounter.

The unsettling part is that the algorithm’s goal is not truth, diversity, or personal growth. It is engagement. If desire makes you scroll, it will serve you love. If envy fuels your clicks, it will curate envy-inducing lifestyles. What feels like a reflection of your taste is often a reflection of what keeps you online.

Human behaviour is always shaped by culture, but algorithmic influence is different in speed and precision. Traditional media might set trends, but it never recalibrated itself in real time for every individual. Today, AI systems track micro-reactions—how long your eyes linger on a video frame, how quickly you swipe away, and adjust instantly.

This raises a disturbing question. When you decide to buy a product, support a social cause, or adopt a new hobby, how much of that decision is you, and how much is a carefully engineered nudge? We still feel autonomous because the algorithm rarely forces choices. Instead, it quietly limits what enters the realm of possibility. You can’t choose what you don’t see. Is this the erosion of free will?

Living in an algorithmic world also reshapes identity. Our “digital selves” are rewarded for consistency. The more we like certain posts, the more similar content we receive, and the more we feel pressure to maintain that version of ourselves, whether it’s the fitness enthusiast, the foodie, the activist, or the minimalist. The feed trains us to be predictable because unpredictability breaks the machine’s efficiency.

The rise of the algorithmic self also brings about ethical considerations. There are concerns about privacy, as the data collected to fuel these algorithms often includes personal and sensitive information. Additionally, there is the issue of transparency. Many algorithms operate as ‘black boxes,’ with their inner workings hidden from users. This lack of transparency can make it difficult to understand how decisions are being made and to hold platforms accountable for their actions.

Many people feel a subtle dissonance, their offline preferences drift, but their online persona stays fixed. We perform for the algorithm, optimizing captions, hashtags, even our emotions, to remain visible. Our feeds don’t just reflect who we are, they encourage us to stay who we were yesterday.

But then how do we break the loop?  The answer is not to reject technology altogether. Algorithms are not inherently evil; they can help us discover music, connect with communities, find a job we want, or learn skills we might never find on our own. The challenge is to reclaim agency within the system.

Practical acts of resistance can be quite simple, like, disrupting the feed by clicking on unfamiliar topics or following people outside your cultural bubble; time-box social media use or schedule ‘algorithm-free’ days; read newsletters or listen podcasts where engagement isn’t the primary metric. There could be several other ways to disrupt and reintroduce randomness. However, the most important step, is awareness. Algorithms will always evolve faster than regulations or ethical guidelines. The only lasting defence is a conscious user, someone who understands that every scroll is a form of training data.

The algorithmic self represents a significant shift in how we navigate our identities in the digital age. The question is not whether technology shapes us. It always has. As we continue to integrate technology into our daily lives, it is essential to remain mindful of the ways in which algorithms shape our identities and to advocate for greater transparency and ethical considerations in their design and implementation. The real question is whether we allow a handful of opaque systems to quietly define what we desire, believe, and become. If we don’t actively resist, our algorithmic selves may thrive while our authentic selves quietly disappear into the feed.

Cloud Atlas

by David Mitchell | 544 PagesGenre: Fiction | Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton | Year: 2004 | My Rating: 9.5/10

“A half-read book is a half-finished love affair.”
― David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

Some novels entertain, others provoke. David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas does both and then something rarer still, it bends the time itself! Since its publication in 2004, this novel has become a cult classic, not only for its intricate structure but also for its audacious attempt to string together the vast tapestry of human existence from past, present and future. The book is one of the most original, unusual, and polarising works on this century.

Mitchell presents us with six interconnected stories that span centuries and genres, a 19th-century Pacific voyage, letters from a young composer in Belgium, a taut thriller set in 1970s California, a satirical farce about a vanity publisher, the interrogation of a genetically engineered clone in a near-future Korea, and a tale told in a fractured dialect after civilization’s collapse. At first, these stories seem like discrete novellas. Yet as each thread is interrupted and later resumed, patterns begin to emerge, as symbols, names, and echoes that ripple across time.

Reading Cloud Atlas is like listening to a symphony in six movements. Each section has its own rhythm, its own instrumentation, yet together they build a haunting, resonant chorus about power, exploitation, love, and resilience. The stories have drama, thrill, humour and fantasy, and takes a deep look into the nature of humanity and moral choices. Mitchell’s message is clear but never heavy-handed, history is cyclical, cruelty and greed recur, but so too do acts of kindness, rebellion, and hope.

A movie was released in 2012 based on the adaptation of the book by the same name featuring Tom Hanks and Halle Berry. The main difference between the book and the movie is the structure and depth, with the book offering distinct, in-depth narratives and complexities, while the movie uses a faster, intercutting cinematic style that emphasizes visual connections and emotion over intellectual understanding, though sometimes oversimplifying plot points like Sonmi-451’s ending. 

This brilliantly written book’s shift in style across the stories can be dizzying, and the patience it demands is substantial. But when the final notes fall into place, the reward is profound, a recognition that our lives, however fleeting, echo forward and backward, part of something infinitely larger.

Cloud Atlas is not just a novel, it is a meditation on the human nature, a daring cartography of time.

I am including some of my most favourite quotes from this book, which is totally worth mentioning with this review.

  • “Power, time, gravity, love. The forces that really kick ass are all invisible.”
  • “My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?.”
  • “Anticipating the end of the world is humanity’s oldest pastime.”
  • “Nothing is as eloquent as nothing.”

How sustainable is Sustainability?

Few words have travelled as far and wide in recent decades as “sustainability”, and has certainly surpassed another overused (in recent past) term ‘social capital’ in usage! It has become synonymous with progress in corporate boardrooms, multilateral summits, government policies, NGO goals, and grassroots movements alike. From ESG scorecards to climate pledges, from net-zero roadmaps to community-led conservation, the language of sustainability has become universal. Every government strategy, corporate report, and grassroots initiative seems anchored in the promise of a more sustainable future. Yet beneath this consensus lies a paradoxical and uncomfortable question: ‘is the sustainability agenda itself sustainable?’

The modern sustainability agenda rests on a powerful proposition that economic growth, social equity, and environmental stewardship can be reconciled. This “triple bottom line” has mobilized unprecedented investment in renewable energy, green finance, and inclusive business models. It has inspired younger generations to demand more from institutions. And it has reframed long-term resilience as a competitive advantage, not a trade-off. But the very breadth of the agenda also makes it fragile. Sustainability risks becoming a catch-all phrase, diluted by overuse and co-opted for public relations more than systemic change. “Greenwashing” scandals, short political cycles, and the uneven costs of climate transitions all threaten to erode public trust. Without credibility and consistency, the agenda risks collapsing under its own ambition.

Sustainability requires commitments that extend far beyond the horizon of electoral politics. Yet in many countries, climate targets or ESG mandates are vulnerable to reversal when governments change. Contrast this with the European Union’s legally binding climate law, a structural safeguard that makes sustainability less of a political preference and more of a shared contract. Unless sustainability is institutionally embedded, it remains hostage to short sightedness.

Green growth advocates argue that economies can decouple prosperity from resource use. The rapid expansion of renewable energy, circular economy models, and impact investing provide evidence of possibility. Yet sceptics highlight that global consumption continues to outpace planetary boundaries. The sustainability agenda will endure only if it reconciles with the fundamental question of growth Vs limits. Can infinite growth coexist with finite resources?

No agenda, however well-intentioned, survives if it is perceived as unjust. For sustainability to be sustainable, it must embody fairness that includes redistributing costs, creating inclusive opportunities, and acknowledging diverse voices, particularly from the Global South. Social justice and legitimacy must go hand in hand.

Ultimately, sustainability is not just a strategy, it is a cultural shift. The more it embeds in consumer choices, organizational values, and educational systems, the harder it becomes to reverse. Yet cultural fatigue is real. When “sustainability” is reduced to a buzzword on every product label, development projects, and corporate brochure, it risks losing meaning. The agenda must therefore move from rhetoric to demonstrable impact, measured transparently and communicated honestly.

The sustainability agenda is both fragile and resilient. Fragile because it depends on long-term alignment across politics, markets, and societies, an alignment often in short supply. Resilient because it has transcended niche environmentalism to become a mainstream expectation that governments and corporations cannot ignore.

Its endurance will depend not on visionary statements but on institutional embedding, equitable policies, and a relentless focus on credibility. At its best, sustainability can serve as the organising principle of a new social contract, aligning business, government, and citizens toward long-term collective wellbeing. Sustainability will only be sustainable if it delivers, not someday, but today.

The next frontier is not about asking companies, governments, or communities to “do more” on sustainability. It is about demanding structural integrity – mechanisms, institutions, and accountability frameworks that ensure sustainability survives political shifts, economic pressures, and cultural fatigue.