India, Oct. 16 -- When people think of Bihar, they often recall its colonial past, political dysfunction, and decades of neglect. For years, the state was seen as a symbol of what went wrong in India's development story. I came here expecting to find remnants of that narrative - the poverty, the frustration, the brain drain. Instead, I found something profoundly different: A quiet, determined resurgence that could redefine India's future. I had come to Bodh Gaya seeking peace and reflection, to sit where the Buddha once found enlightenment and to quiet my own restless mind. But on the road to Nalanda, I came upon another monument to human endurance - the ridge carved by Dashrath Manjhi, the "mountain man". Standing there, between sheer walls of rock, I felt as if I were walking through time, down a path literally born from loss and love. Manjhi's wife, Falguni Devi, was badly injured after falling along the rocky hillside, and the nearest hospital was on the other side of this mountain. By the time she could be taken there, it was too late. Stricken with grief, Manjhi resolved that no one else should ever die because a mountain stood in the way. With nothing more than a hammer and chisel, he spent 22 years cutting through solid rock, carving a passage that connected his village to the world beyond. Today, that narrow road carries children to school and workers to nearby towns. What was once a wall of stone has become a lifeline. But what struck me most wasn't the road itself, it was the spirit that built it. Manjhi had no wealth, no education, no institution behind him, just purpose. It reminded me of my own journey after losing my wife, when I turned grief into determination to build Vionix Biosciences - to use science to save others from the pain my wife endured. A few kilometres away lies Patwa Toli, a village that has moved mountains of a different kind. Once known for its weavers, generations of artisans who struggled as the textile trade collapsed, it is now famous for producing engineers. Nearly every household has someone who has cracked the IIT entrance exam. The literacy rate is 98%, and families which once lived hand-to-mouth now send their children to India's top universities. When I walked through the village, I heard the rhythmic clatter of looms blending with the scratch of pencils. The same hands that once wove fabric now solve equations. The walls of homes are plastered with charts and formulas; in the evenings, dim bulbs glow above students studying late into the night. They call Patwa Toli "the IIT factory", but that label doesn't capture what's really happening here. It's a renaissance - a community's collective uprising against circumstance. At the heart of this movement is Vriksha Sansthan, a free mentoring centre founded by Chandrakant Pateshwari and Jitendra Kumar, a former IITian from the village. I met students, the sons and daughters of loom workers, mechanics, and shopkeepers studying day and night, driven by dreams larger than their surroundings. The mentors, themselves once village children, teach for free after their regular jobs. They are trying to help these children discover their own potential, to show them that brilliance grows through perseverance, not background, and that their dreams are within reach. I told the students that getting into IIT isn't the only path to success. Their grit and work ethic are the real assets - the same qualities that built Silicon Valley. With the right exposure, they could become innovators who create jobs, not just chase them. One of my technical advisors and machine learning expert, Jagadish Venkataraman, will soon work with them virtually to bring Artificial Intelligence to life - not as theory, but as a practical tool they can learn to use. As I left the village, the sun was setting behind the looms, their rhythmic hum fading into the evening air. The road ahead wound past fields and small towns, carrying me toward Nalanda, the next chapter of Bihar's story. If Patwa Toli represents education as liberation, Nalanda stands for education as enlightenment - the bridge between the material and the moral, between invention and wisdom. At Nalanda University, the new campus rises beside the ruins of the ancient one, which once drew scholars from across Asia a thousand years before Oxford and Cambridge were conceived. The old Nalanda was where India led the world - a beacon of reason, inquiry, and universal learning. Seeing the new university rise from those same fields felt like watching history turn a corner. What impressed me most wasn't the grandeur of the buildings, but the clarity of vision. The faculty spoke passionately about blending science, sustainability, and ethics - reviving the spirit of Nalanda, where learning was meant to uplift humanity. They're strict about environmental values; you can't even bring a non-electric vehicle onto campus without a special permit. It made me smile - a small but telling symbol of integrity. Walking through the courtyards of the old Nalanda, I thought about Manjhi's ridge again - the chiseled rock, the village of dreamers, and now, this reborn university. They are all part of the same continuum. One man broke a mountain with his hands. One village broke the cycle of poverty through education. And one university is working to break the complacency that holds back a nation capable of so much more....