Modern India Observed: Wine, Music, and Modern India – Reflections from SulaFest 2026

Modern India Observed is an ongoing series exploring how contemporary India gathers, celebrates, consumes, worships, and rests. Through places, events, and everyday rituals, it looks at the subtle shifts shaping public life, not to judge them, but to understand what they reveal.

In late January this year, as the light thinned over Nashik’s vineyard hills, a crowd settled onto grass with paper plates, plastic cups, and wine glasses balanced carefully between them. Music drifted outward from the amphitheatre stage. Some people moved closer as the tempo rose. Others stayed where they were, content to listen from a distance.

This was SulaFest 2026: two days of live music at Sula Vineyards, now a familiar entry in India’s leisure calendar. By August, the volume has faded, and the social media posts have long been archived. What remains more interesting than the line-up is the question beneath it: what does a vineyard music festival in Nashik reveal about how modern India gathers?

It is easy to dismiss festivals as entertainment. It is harder and more interesting to read them as cultural text. Because SulaFest is not only about artists or alcohol. It is about a particular version of Indian leisure that has grown steadily more visible over the last decade.

The Vineyard as Social Space
A vineyard is not a neutral setting. Unlike an indoor arena or a city concert hall, it carries a horizon. Rows of vines stretch outward, reminding you that this is agricultural land before it is an event space. The air feels less compressed. The sky remains part of the experience.

At SulaFest 2026, the setting shaped behaviour. People arrived early, not only to secure a spot but also to linger. Groups spread themselves out across the grass. Conversations flowed in daylight before attention shifted fully to the stage. Even as evening deepened and the crowd thickened, it remained possible to stand slightly to the side and observe rather than immerse completely.

For those who are not instinctively drawn to crowds, that flexibility matters. One can participate without surrendering entirely to density. Arrive early. Listen while the light is still generous. Leave before exhaustion sets in. The festival accommodates this rhythm.

The programming, as in previous years, moved gradually from relaxed afternoon performances into more high-energy night acts. As dusk settled during the 2026 edition, the energy shift was tangible. Daylight conversations gave way to collective attention. Beats carried farther across the open air than they would indoors. Indie choruses found easy sing-along momentum. Electronic sets tightened the crowd’s movement into something almost tidal. Even those at the periphery felt the pull. The vineyard softened the edges, but the sound still gathered people inward.

Wine: Craft, Aspiration, and Respectability
Alcohol has never been foreign to India. What has changed is the tone around certain kinds of drinking. Over the past decade, wine has moved into mainstream visibility with a distinct cultural positioning. It is frequently framed as refined, lighter, more civilised. For many middle-class Indians, especially women, wine offers a socially smoother way to drink in public spaces. It carries less stigma than harder spirits. It feels less confrontational. It photographs well.

There is aspiration in that. Social media has amplified it. A glass of wine against a vineyard sunset has become shorthand for cultivated leisure. Yet beneath the imagery lies agriculture.

Sula Vineyards, founded in 1999, has played a central role in positioning Nashik as India’s most recognised wine region. The Indian wine story is rooted in soil, weather patterns, experimentation, and patience. Wine is a craft long before it becomes a lifestyle. At SulaFest 2026, both layers were visible. Some attendees treated wine as a celebration. Others approached it more slowly, tasting and comparing. Many simply held a glass while listening to music. It helps not to romanticise it. Wine at a vineyard festival need not be glamorous. It can be agriculture meeting leisure. That grounding keeps the experience honest. Live and let live applies here. Pleasure does not require performance.

The Quiet Shift in Public Leisure
Public leisure in India has evolved noticeably in recent years. Urban women, in particular, inhabit social spaces with greater ease than they once did. Music festivals, vineyard weekends, and group travel are no longer narrowly coded environments. Wine plays into that shift. It provides a register of drinking that is perceived as socially smoother. Whether that perception is entirely accurate is less important than its effect. It broadens participation.

At SulaFest 2026, the crowd reflected this incremental change. Groups of women travelled together comfortably. Mixed circles moved through the space without self-consciousness. The festival felt mainstream rather than fringe. This is not a revolution. It is recalibration. And recalibration is often how culture changes.

Devotion and Indulgence on the Same Map
To understand SulaFest fully, one must widen the lens beyond the amphitheatre. Nashik is also home to Trimbakeshwar Temple, one of the twelve jyotirlingas, located roughly 28 kilometres from the city. Pilgrims queue there with seriousness that has nothing to do with lifestyle branding or curated leisure. And yet both experiences exist within the same short drive.

One can attend a vineyard music festival one evening and stand in a temple queue the next morning. India does not require these moments to cancel each other out. Leisure and devotion coexist geographically without anxiety. This coexistence may be the most telling aspect of SulaFest’s location.

For visitors, the contrast shapes the weekend meaningfully. A day of music and open sky can be followed by an early morning visit to Trimbakeshwar or a quieter walk along the Godavari ghats. The body slows. The mood shifts. The senses recalibrate. Neither invalidates the other. SulaFest is not an isolated bubble. It is situated within a layered cultural landscape.

The Practical Reality
Romantic accounts of festivals often skip logistics. They should not. SulaFest runs long hours and is an adult event. It demands stamina. Hydration matters. Planning transport matters. Comfortable shoes matter. Arriving early is wiser than arriving late. Leaving before peak density is sensible, not unsporting. The difference between a satisfying weekend and a draining one rarely lies in the music alone. It lies in the small decisions around it. As Indian festivals become more organised and mainstream, attendees have grown more intentional. The 2026 edition felt less like chaotic novelty and more like structured leisure. That maturity is telling.

Energy Changes, Joy Does Not
There is a thread of nostalgia running through any festival, though it may not always be obvious. Not exactly nostalgia for youth, but for collective energy. Energy changes as we age. Crowds feel denser. Noise feels louder. Bodies tire sooner. But joy, communal, rhythmic, shared joy, persists.

Sitting slightly to the side at SulaFest, watching the crowd move as the sun dipped behind the vines, one could feel that continuity. Friends leaned into one another. Strangers swayed in the same direction. The music rose and fell. Nothing dramatic occurred. Yet something steady held.

What SulaFest ultimately reflects is not excess but adjustment. A country recalibrating how it relaxes. Wine is treated as a craft rather than a taboo. Women inhabiting public leisure without apology. Music held in open air instead of behind closed doors. Devotion and indulgence share geography without argument.

None of this is theatrical. That is precisely the point. SulaFest is not a pilgrimage. It is not a spiritual retreat. It is not rebellion. It is a well-produced weekend that quietly mirrors a modern India learning to hold multiple identities at once. It does not need to be annual devotion. But it is worth doing at least once.

This essay is part of the Modern India Observed series

In My Hands Today…

Two Women Walk into a Bar – Cheryl Strayed

Cheryl Strayed, the bestselling author of Wild and Tiny Beautiful Things , finds humor and connection in a poignant short memoir about love, family secrets, and reconciliation.

Twenty-one years after Cheryl Strayed set off on the Pacific Crest Trail to heal from the death of her beloved mother, Cheryl’s mother-in-law, Joan, is given weeks to live.

As she and her husband help see Joan through her final days, Cheryl reckons with their complicated relationship, determined to connect with a woman who both showed her love and (sometimes hilariously) held her at a distance. Cheryl reflects on their two decades together as she comes to a deeper understanding of the secrets and sorrows in Joan’s complicated past. At Joan’s bedside, it’s time to contemplate the challenges they’ve faced, to accept their differences, and to find some healing in goodbye.

Beyond the Classroom: The Practice of Lifelong Learning

Education is usually described in stages. School comes first, followed by university for those who choose that path, and eventually the working world. Once these formal stages are completed, the assumption is that learning has largely done its job. Yet daily life quickly challenges that idea.

A difficult conversation at work can teach more about communication than any classroom exercise. Travelling through an unfamiliar city often reveals how many habits we mistake for universal truths. Even listening to someone explain a viewpoint we disagree with can quietly shift how we see the world. Moments like these remind us that learning rarely stops when formal education ends. In fact, some of the most important lessons arrive long after the classroom is behind us.

This is where lifelong learning comes into view. Not as a fashionable phrase attached to professional development, but as a recognition that understanding the world is an ongoing process. It does not stop at graduation, nor does it happen only through courses and certificates. More often, it unfolds quietly through experience. Lifelong learning is less about collecting qualifications and more about remaining open to the possibility that there is always something more to understand.

What Lifelong Learning Really Means
At its simplest, lifelong learning refers to the ongoing pursuit of knowledge throughout one’s life. This learning may be formal, such as attending courses, workshops, or academic programmes. It may also be informal, arising through reading, observation, work experience, travel, or conversation. In practice, most meaningful learning sits somewhere between these two worlds.

A professional might attend a leadership course, but the real learning may appear months later when navigating a difficult team situation. A traveller might read about a country before visiting, yet the deeper understanding often comes from small interactions with people along the way. Even something as ordinary as listening carefully during a disagreement can change how one understands another person.

Seen this way, lifelong learning is less about structured education and more about how we engage with the world around us.

This distinction matters because modern discussions about learning often narrow it to something measurable. Courses are completed. Certifications are earned. Skills are updated. These are useful, and often necessary, but they represent only a small portion of how people actually learn.

The rest happens slowly and rarely appears on a résumé.

Why Lifelong Learning Matters
There are practical reasons why lifelong learning is often encouraged. Economies change, technologies evolve, and entire industries can transform within a decade. In such an environment, the ability to keep learning is essential.

But the importance of lifelong learning goes beyond employability. Learning allows individuals to remain intellectually engaged with the world. It strengthens judgment, encourages curiosity, and helps people adapt when circumstances shift. Just as importantly, it prevents a particular kind of stagnation that can occur when one assumes that the way things have always been is the way they must remain.

In societies where academic achievement is highly valued, learning is often framed in measurable terms. Marks, grades, and rankings provide visible proof of progress. Yet much of what matters in adult life does not lend itself easily to measurement.

Understanding people. Recognising nuance. Knowing when to change direction. Learning from failure. These forms of learning rarely appear in formal assessments, yet they influence decisions that shape careers, relationships, and communities.

A person who remains willing to learn is often also someone willing to reconsider earlier assumptions. That quiet openness is one of the most valuable forms of intellectual humility.

When Learning Becomes a Productivity Exercise
Today, lifelong learning is frequently linked with the idea of constant upskilling. Courses promise to sharpen abilities, expand opportunities, and maintain professional relevance. There is nothing wrong with developing new skills. Many people pursue further study mid-career, and structured learning can open doors that might otherwise remain closed.

In Singapore, for instance, professional development has become a normal part of working life. Many adults return to study through evening programmes or professional certifications. India reflects a similar respect for education, though often expressed through intense competition for university places and professional credentials. Both contexts demonstrate the value societies place on knowledge.

At the same time, there is a subtle risk in reducing lifelong learning to a series of measurable improvements. When learning becomes another productivity target, its broader value can be overlooked. Not everything worth understanding has immediate practical use. Some knowledge simply deepens perspective. It may complicate rather than simplify the way we see the world. Occasionally, it reveals uncomfortable truths about past decisions.

Yet these insights are part of learning as well. If lifelong learning is treated only as a professional obligation, it risks becoming exhausting rather than enriching.

Learning Beyond the Classroom
Many of the most enduring lessons arrive outside formal education. Work is one such environment. Professional life exposes individuals to situations that cannot be fully simulated in a classroom. Negotiating differences, managing uncertainty, dealing with failure, and making decisions with incomplete information all require forms of judgment that develop only through experience.

Travel offers another form of learning. Encountering unfamiliar cultures often reveals how many of our habits are shaped by the places we grew up in. Observing how other societies approach family, work, or community can quietly expand one’s understanding of human behaviour.

Even ordinary conversations can become sources of learning. Listening to someone whose experiences differ from our own may reveal perspectives we had never considered. These forms of learning are rarely planned, yet they shape the way people think over time.

The Rhythm of Learning
One aspect of lifelong learning that receives little attention is its rhythm. Advice about learning often suggests constant effort, as if every stage of life should involve deliberate self-improvement. In practice, learning tends to move in cycles.

There are periods of active curiosity when people read widely, explore new subjects, and seek fresh ideas. These periods are often followed by quieter phases when the focus shifts to absorbing what has already been learned.

Reflection plays an important role here. Without time to think, learning can become little more than the accumulation of facts. Understanding requires pauses. Many people discover that their most meaningful insights arrive not during formal study but afterwards, sometimes months or even years later.

Curiosity and Individual Temperament
Another assumption often made about learning is that curiosity fades with age. Children are naturally curious, the argument goes, while adults gradually settle into established routines. Yet the reality appears more uneven.

Some individuals remain curious throughout their lives. They ask questions, explore unfamiliar topics, and approach the world with interest well into old age. Others move through life more mechanically, following routines without much desire to look beyond them.

The difference may lie partly in temperament. A naturally curious person often remains that way unless circumstances discourage it. At the same time, environments matter. When questioning is discouraged or when curiosity is treated as unnecessary, even those inclined to explore may grow quieter.

Lifelong learning therefore, depends not only on opportunity but also on disposition. Remaining curious requires a willingness to look beyond what is already familiar, even when there is no immediate reward.

When Learning Does Not Make Life Easier
It is tempting to assume that learning always improves life. In many cases it does. New knowledge sharpens judgement, expands perspective, and sometimes prevents avoidable mistakes. Yet learning can also complicate things.

Understanding a situation more deeply may reveal trade-offs that were previously hidden. Recognising uncertainty can raise new questions rather than clear answers. Sometimes learning leads to the uncomfortable realisation that something once believed strongly may not have been entirely accurate.

This does not mean the learning was wasted. Recognising complexity is often a sign of deeper understanding. A person who learns only what confirms existing beliefs is not truly learning at all.

Curiosity as a Way of Living
Seen over a lifetime, learning rarely follows a predictable path. Some lessons appear early and only make sense years later. Others arrive unexpectedly through small decisions made out of curiosity.

Taking a short course, reading about an unfamiliar topic, or experimenting with a new skill may seem minor at the time. Yet such moments often open doors to perspectives that would otherwise remain unseen.

Sometimes the outcome is practical improvement. At other times the learning simply deepens understanding. It reveals how much more there is to know. Either way, curiosity plays a quiet role.

Those who remain curious continue learning not because they must, but because the world continues to present questions worth exploring. And perhaps that is the most accurate description of lifelong learning. It is less a formal programme and more a way of moving through life with the expectation that each encounter, conversation, or experience might contain something worth understanding.

Education, in that sense, does not end. It simply changes its setting.

2026 Week 31 Update

Hello August! We are looking at the second half of the year and the countdown to the new year has already started.

This week has felt like one of quiet construction. Much of the work happened behind the scenes, where ideas were refined, relationships were strengthened, and plans gradually moved from possibility to action. There were meaningful conversations, careful follow-ups, and thoughtful decisions that may not seem significant on their own, but together they represent the kind of progress that lasts. Sometimes the most important work isn’t what everyone sees, but what quietly prepares the ground for what comes next.

It was also a week of building systems, not just completing tasks. There was satisfaction in creating structures that will make life simpler and more intentional in the months and years ahead. Whether organising work, refining personal projects, or thinking more deliberately about the future, the focus wasn’t simply on getting through the week, but on building something that will continue to serve long after it is finished.

Alongside all of this was a reminder that growth often comes through conversation. A new introduction, an unexpected exchange of ideas, or a collaborative discussion can quietly open doors that didn’t exist before. Not every opportunity announces itself with certainty; many begin as small connections that slowly gather momentum.

Looking back, this wasn’t a week defined by dramatic milestones. It was defined by intention. By choosing patience over haste, preparation over shortcuts, and consistency over spectacle. And perhaps that’s the quiet lesson these days have offered: the strongest foundations are rarely built all at once. They are created one conversation, one decision, and one thoughtful step at a time.

Today’s quote by author, speaker, and personal development coach, Glenda Cloud captures an important distinction about life. Change happens whether we invite it or not. Time passes, circumstances shift, relationships evolve, careers take unexpected turns, and seasons of life come and go. Change is a constant, woven into the fabric of our existence. We cannot stop it, no matter how much we might wish to. Growth, however, is different. It requires a conscious choice. We can experience the same challenges repeatedly without learning from them, or we can pause, reflect, and allow those experiences to shape us into wiser, stronger, and more compassionate people. Simply growing older is automatic; growing as a person is intentional.

The quote also reminds us that difficult experiences do not automatically make us better. Adversity offers the opportunity for growth, but it does not guarantee it. We grow when we ask ourselves what a situation can teach us, when we remain open to new perspectives, and when we choose to respond thoughtfully rather than react impulsively. There is also an encouraging message here. Since growth is intentional, it is available to all of us. We don’t need perfect circumstances to become better versions of ourselves. Small, deliberate actions—reading, learning, practising gratitude, developing healthy habits, admitting mistakes, or showing kindness—gradually shape our character over time. These choices may seem insignificant in the moment, but together they create lasting transformation. Ultimately, the quote reminds us that while we cannot control the changes life brings, we can choose how we meet them. And in that choice lies our greatest opportunity for growth.

The Gita begins this month’s journey with a powerful reminder: we are often far more capable than we believe. In verse 6.5, when faced with setbacks, disappointment, or uncertainty, it is easy to become our own harshest critic. We replay mistakes, magnify failures, and convince ourselves that we are not ready, worthy, or capable enough. Krishna challenges this way of thinking. He reminds us that the mind can either support our growth or become the very obstacle that holds us back. The battle is not always against circumstances. Often, it is against the stories we tell ourselves. This verse is not about self-reliance in isolation. It is about taking responsibility for our inner world. We cannot always control events, but we can choose how we respond to them. Every act of courage begins with a simple decision: to stop pulling ourselves down and start helping ourselves rise.

This week I learned that many things won’t work out the way you expected, but that doesn’t mean you’ve failed or that your efforts were wasted. You’ll make mistakes, but you’ll grow. You’ll face setbacks, but you’ll strengthen your resilience. There is still meaning, connection, and joy in your journey. You’ve got to explore new paths, take new chances, and embrace what comes your way. Some moments will change your life in beautiful ways, while others will simply teach you. Even when plans fall through, unexpected gifts emerge, new doors open, and you discover abundance beyond your expectations.

And on that note, here’s to a well-deserved August!

In My Hands Today…

To Have and to Hold: Motherhood, Marriage, and the Modern Dilemma – Molly Millwood

When Molly Millwood became a mother, she was fully prepared for what she would gain: an adorable baby boy; hard-won mothering skills; and a messy, chaotic, beautiful life. But what she did not expect was what she would lose: aspects of her identity, a baseline level of happiness, a general sense of wellbeing. And though she had the benefit of a supportive husband during this transition, she also at times resented the fact that the disruption to his life seemed to pale in comparison to hers.

As a clinical psychologist, Molly knew her experience was a normal response to a life-changing event. But without the advantage of such a perspective, many of the patients she treated in her private practice grappled with self-doubt, guilt, and fear, and suffered the dual pain of not only the struggle to adjust but also the overwhelming shame for struggling at all.

In To Have and to Hold, Molly explores the complex terrain of new motherhood, illuminating the ways it affects women psychologically, emotionally, physically, and professionally—as well as how it impacts their partnership. Along with the arrival of a bundle of joy come thorny issues such as self-worth, control, autonomy, and dependency. And for most new mothers, these issues are experienced within the context of an intimate relationship, adding another layer of tension, conflict, and confusion to an already challenging time.

As Molly examines the inextricable link between women’s well-being as new mothers and the well-being of their relationships, she offers guidance to help readers reclaim their identities, overcome their guilt and shame, and repair their relationships. A blend of personal narrative, scientific research, and stories from Molly’s clinical practice, To Have and to Hold provides a much-needed lifeline to new mothers everywhere.