"Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you." ― Shannon L. Alder

There is evidence that the honoree [Leonard Cohen] might be privy to the secret of the universe, which, in case you're wondering, is simply this: everything is connected. Everything. Many, if not most, of the links are difficult to determine. The instrument, the apparatus, the focused ray that can uncover and illuminate those connections is language. And just as a sudden infatuation often will light up a person's biochemical atmosphere more pyrotechnically than any deep, abiding attachment, so an unlikely, unexpected burst of linguistic imagination will usually reveal greater truths than the most exacting scholarship. In fact. The poetic image may be the only device remotely capable of dissecting romantic passion, let alone disclosing the inherent mystical qualities of the material world. Cohen is a master of the quasi-surrealistic phrase, of the "illogical" line that speaks so directly to the unconscious that surface ambiguity is transformed into ultimate, if fleeting, comprehension: comprehension of the bewitching nuances of sex and bewildering assaults of culture. Undoubtedly, it is to his lyrical mastery that his prestigious colleagues now pay tribute. Yet, there may be something else. As various, as distinct, as rewarding as each of their expressions are, there can still be heard in their individual interpretations the distant echo of Cohen's own voice, for it is his singing voice as well as his writing pen that has spawned these songs. It is a voice raked by the claws of Cupid, a voice rubbed raw by the philosopher's stone. A voice marinated in kirschwasser, sulfur, deer musk and snow; bandaged with sackcloth from a ruined monastery; warmed by the embers left down near the river after the gypsies have gone. It is a penitent's voice, a rabbinical voice, a crust of unleavened vocal toasts -- spread with smoke and subversive wit. He has a voice like a carpet in an old hotel, like a bad itch on the hunchback of love. It is a voice meant for pronouncing the names of women -- and cataloging their sometimes hazardous charms. Nobody can say the word "naked" as nakedly as Cohen. He makes us see the markings where the pantyhose have been. Finally, the actual persona of their creator may be said to haunt these songs, although details of his private lifestyle can be only surmised. A decade ago, a teacher who called himself Shree Bhagwan Rajneesh came up with the name "Zorba the Buddha" to describe the ideal modern man: A contemplative man who maintains a strict devotional bond with cosmic energies, yet is completely at home in the physical realm. Such a man knows the value of the dharma and the value of the deutschmark, knows how much to tip a waiter in a Paris nightclub and how many times to bow in a Kyoto shrine, a man who can do business when business is necessary, allow his mind to enter a pine cone, or dance in wild abandon if moved by the tune. Refusing to shun beauty, this Zorba the Buddha finds in ripe pleasures not a contradiction but an affirmation of the spiritual self. Doesn't he sound a lot like Leonard Cohen? We have been led to picture Cohen spending his mornings meditating in Armani suits, his afternoons wrestling the muse, his evenings sitting in cafes were he eats, drinks and speaks soulfully but flirtatiously with the pretty larks of the street. Quite possibly this is a distorted portrait. The apocryphal, however, has a special kind of truth. It doesn't really matter. What matters here is that after thirty years, L. Cohen is holding court in the lobby of the whirlwind, and that giants have gathered to pay him homage. To him -- and to us -- they bring the offerings they have hammered from his iron, his lead, his nitrogen, his gold." ― Tom Robbins "History with its flickering lamp stumbles along the trail of the past, trying to reconstruct its scenes, to revive its echoes, and kindle with pale gleams the passion of former days. What is the worth of all this? The only guide to a man is his conscience; the only shield to his memory is the rectitude and sincerity of his actions. It is very imprudent to walk through life without this shield, because we are so often mocked by the failure of our hopes and the upsetting of our calculations; but with this shield, however the fates may play, we march always in the ranks of honor." ― Winston S. Churchill"

"History with its flickering lamp stumbles along the trail of the past, trying to reconstruct its scenes, to revive its echoes, and kindle with pale gleams the passion of former days. What is the worth of all this? The only guide to a man is his conscience; the only shield to his memory is the rectitude and sincerity of his actions. It is very imprudent to walk through life without this shield, because we are so often mocked by the failure of our hopes and the upsetting of our calculations; but with this shield, however the fates may play, we march always in the ranks of honor." ― Winston S. Churchill

"Air Vice Marshal H.M.Shahul AVSM,VSM; a cheerful self with sparkling eyes and full of enthusiasm until the last, ever ready to serve, meet and greet everyone on social occasions, a great personality in service, post retirement from Defence and from Airports Authority of India. Blessed with exceptional memory and skillful creative writing, with conviction and force to impress the audience; a great personality full of life and always had time for others left us on 1stJune 2016 at London.The world will miss him always. He had a distinguished career in the Indian Air Force(IAF), that included Hot Air at DSSC, Air Officer Commanding AF Station Tambaram. Post retirement, he took over as the first Chairman of Airports Authority of India (AAI). He was hailed as a great Chairman who was responsible for instituting a firm foundation that keeps AAI in good stead today. Later, he became a prolific writer, thanks to his gift of creative writing,grasp of language and phenomenal memory. Even when approaching 80 years, he played regular golf and remained in good health. In fact, he flew down to London to be with his son.He was an avid follower of classical music and ghazals.

"Air Vice Marshal H.M.Shahul AVSM,VSMwas a Post Graduate from Madras University in Defense Studies, was a Member of the Indian Council of Management Executives, Mumbai, a Fellow of All India Management Association and a Fellow of Aeronautical Society of India, an Alumni of National Defence Academy

"Commissioned in December 1957, Air Vice Marshal had flown over 5000 hrs. in the transport and maritime support operations, took part in 1962, 1965 and 1971 War at the Borders. He always held responsible and respectable Command and Staff assignments including the teaching faculty of the Defence Services Staff College, Wellington, Nilgris. For his exceptional Service and Devotion to duty he was awarded AtiVishistSeva Medal (AVSM), and VishistSeva Medal (VSM) by the President of India. Post Retirement from Defence Service, he joined as Member Operations, National Airports Authority and was appointed as Chairman of the then newly formed Airports Authority of India and he held that position till the end of his service career.