India, Feb. 2 -- After dropping my son for his school trip in the pre-dawn hours, I found myself drawn to the banks of Sukhna Lake. The city was still tucked under its covers. As the first rays of the sun climbed over the horizon, conquering the lingering dark, a deep silence draped itself over the water. I decided to forgo my usual walk. Instead, I simply sat. In the frantic rush of our daily lives, watching a sunrise is a rare luxury, yet that morning, it felt like a necessity. As I sat by the shimmering water, silence seemed to find its own voice. It spoke through the rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, and the gentle ripples of the lake. I realised then that true meditation isn't always about closed eyes or rhythmic breathing; it is the simple act of being present. When we sit with nature, the mind reaches a stillness that nourishes the soul and heals the body. What amazed me was how this quietude awakened my senses. I could see the silence in the mirrored water, smell it in the moist earth, and feel it in the cool breeze, hear it in the still air, and even taste it in the freshness that surrounded me. It was as if the five elements of earth, water, air, fire, and space were coming together to rejuvenate me. In that moment, I understood that silence is not a void; it is the presence of peace. In a world of constant digital chatter, it offers a rare alignment of the mind, body, and spirit. The words of Rumi, the 13th-century Persian poet and Sufi mystic known for his timeless wisdom on the soul, echoed in my mind: "Let silence take you to the core of life." Yet, as I soaked in the serenity, the lake whispered a grimmer subtext. Silence, when ignored or forced by the tipping of ecological scales, can turn into a roar. The floods of the last monsoon remain a vivid memory, a reminder that when nature's balance is disturbed, it speaks back in a fierce tongue. The water seemed to pulse with a warning: "Shouted silence is dangerous." Silence is a dual-edged power. It holds infinite, unspoken words that teach us to reflect and reconnect. When embraced, it heals; when neglected, it serves as a stern reminder of what we stand to lose. Those quiet moments at the water's edge gave me more than just a morning's peace; they gave me perspective. I found a melody that required no orchestra. It is my hope that Sukhna is soon recognised as a Ramsar Site-not just for its ecological significance, but for the spiritual sanctuary it provides to every weary soul who pauses to listen. As Rumi aptly put it: "Silence is the language of God, all else is poor translation."...