Dr Sajad Hussain Deen

 A Tribute to My Friends: The Architects of My Journey They say, "there is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship". Life is not merely measured in milestones, but in memories—etched with people who walk alongside us. Among them, friends are the rare gems who turn ordinary moments into extraordinary chapters. This article is a heartfelt tribute to those companions whose presence has shaped my journey, enriched my soul, and added meaning to every step I’ve taken. The earliest question that haunted me as a child was, “What will I become in life?” But even before I found the answer, I discovered something far more valuable—friendship. In the corridors of school life, Altaf was the first to step into my world, marking the beginning of a friendship that would shape my early years. A flamboyant personality, he was effortlessly sociable and charming—often surrounded by admirers. I, in contrast, was introverted and contemplative, admired for my quiet demeanor. Wh...

My Transformative Experience at IIT Madras By Dr. Sajad Hussain Din During my PhD program, I had the privilege of visiting the Indian Institute of Technology Madras—a place where intellect meets innovation, and nature coexists harmoniously with science. Accompanied by my friend Kaleem Ahmad Najar, the journey itself was a memorable prologue: a train ride through the vibrant landscapes of South India that awakened our senses and curiosity in equal measure. Our arrival at Chennai Central Railway Station marked the beginning of an enlightening chapter. A prepaid taxi ride costing ₹450 took us to IIT’s sprawling campus. Amusingly, asking for directions to the “Indian Institute of Technology” initially drew blank stares. Only when I used the abbreviation “IIT” did recognition dawn—a simple yet telling lesson in local nuance. Crossing the gates of IIT Madras felt like stepping into a different world—one where intellectual rigor is gently framed by the rustle of trees and the call of wildlife...

I was born on a summer day in Srinagar, in August 1979. It was the day when the air in the city carried both heat and festivity, especially because it was also the month of Ramazan. The hospital stood close to Dal Lake, and they say the view from the second floor made the place feel more like a retreat than a medical facility. My family lived nearby, within walking distance. I like to think that when I opened my eyes, I may have seen a hint of that lake shimmer through the window. My father was in administration. He was the man who believed in rules, and was respected by those who feared wasting time. My mother worked in the Education Department. Both of them took their work seriously. My father especially seemed carved out of purpose. He was someone who didn’t raise his voice often, but when he did, the walls listened. Yet when it came to his children, something softened. I grew up between two homes: the ancestral one and the government quarters. The ancestral house leaned into the J...