In Vivek’s journey from the courtyards of New Delhi to the boardrooms of America and the practice of writing, there is a reflection of gradual change—characterized by subtlety rather than disruption, and by awareness rather than dominance.
Manish Saini Published on: 30 July 2025 4:08 pmwww.outlookindia.com
In the dusty lanes of post-independence New Delhi, where colonial echoes still lingered in language, architecture, and aspiration, a young boy sat quietly under a pipal tree beside his mother, listening to sacred stories whispered like prayers. It was an uncommon childhood that helped shape the early life of Vivek Singhal—author, civilizational thinker, and a notable literary voices emerging from India’s spiritual and intellectual traditions.
Born into a modest joint family in the heart of a newly sovereign India, Vivek’s early life was shaped by attentiveness. In a home filled with elders and evening tales, silence was revered, simplicity respected, and storytelling sacred. The material changes occurring across the subcontinent in the wake of independence did not blur his childhood vision but refined it—guiding his focus toward the deeper significance behind the developments of modernity.
His search for meaning began in earnest at the Ramakrishna Mission Centre, where his father—a first-generation college graduate—would take him occasionally for recitals. There, he experienced Swami Vivekananda’s towering presence through his spirit. At just eight years old, the boy chose the name—“Vivek,” meaning discernment. The decision was more than symbolic; it reflected an early sense of purpose. Years later, when he left for the United States—carrying Swamiji’s books in his suitcase—his journey led him to NASA, the University of Michigan, and the field of science and strategy. But the compass of his life remained pointed inward.
The roots of Vivek’s spiritual curiosity run deep and wide—grounded in folktales shared by his grandfather, the fragrance of sandalwood during temple visits, and the annual ritual of collecting firewood for Holika Dahan, where the tale of Prahlad and Holika symbolized the eternal triumph of truth over illusion. Though the words have faded, the feeling remains—a soul memory, as he describes it. Writing became his way of listening to that inner voice again, and eventually, answering its call.