"IISM has been a platform which really helped me understand the sports ecosystem", said Anaveer Nanna, one of our Master of Sports Management graduates, reflecting on how he has evolved a lot over his two years at IISM!

From being a fan to getting to know the intricacies of the sports ecosystem, Anaveer has been able to unlock a new perspective in his career. He highlighted how his interactions with the faculty of IISM really stuck with him.

Over his two years of MSM, Anaveer has made several memories at IISM, be it on campus via activities & fun events or off the campus at internships & on-ground volunteering at sports events.

Thrilled to finally share my new single, "College Days in Memories" with the world! This track is all about the energy, the chaos, and the unforgettable moments that define our university years.

A huge thank you to everyone who helped bring this project to life. Ready to take a sonic trip back to campus?

Stream "College Days" now at the link below!

Link to your song here - https://youtube.com/shorts/3ZNE9ChXaEk

They say write what you know. For me, that meant channeling the bittersweet, transformative journey of my college years into a new song.

"College Days" is that story—a blend of independence, growth, and the lessons you can't learn in a classroom. I hope it resonates with anyone who’s ever looked back on a formative chapter of their life.

I'm so excited for you to hear it. Listen on your platform of choice!

Link to your song here - https://youtube.com/shorts/DvvjQkNhaHY

By Thomas Marsh-Connors | Angry British Conservative

There’s a particular stillness I remember not silence, not emptiness but stillness. It was under a great oak tree back in my college days. A sprawling English giant, the kind that looks like it’s been standing since the Wars of the Roses. That day, it held 20 or so of us beneath its arms, gathered in a quiet circle. No phones. No politics. No noise. Just us, the earth, and the sound of Zen music drifting from a small speaker. Something ancient stirred in that moment.

I wasn’t raised in Zen Buddhism, and I don’t claim to follow the faith. I’m a Christian, a monarchist, and a proud conservative. But I’ve always believed that truth can come from many corners of the world, and Zen despite its Eastern roots spoke to something primal in me. It wasn’t about doctrine. It was about attention. Clarity. Simplicity. It was about being.

That moment beneath the oak was my first real taste of Zen. Something in that hour of shared silence cracked through the noise of youth, lectures, cheap lager, and the chaos of student life. I remember focusing on my breath, then the breeze, then nothing. I wasn’t escaping I was arriving. For once, I wasn’t trying to prove a point, win a debate, or control the narrative. I was just there. Fully. Completely.

Since then, Zen has been a quiet undercurrent in my life. I don’t chant mantras or sit in lotus every morning. But I do walk slowly when I need to think. I do appreciate the silence between guitar notes in a Dylan song. I do pause before speaking in heated moments not always, but more often than I used to. I keep my space tidy not just for order, but for peace. Even in how I travel, and how I write especially in my novels there’s always that thread of mindful observation. Seeing. Feeling. Noticing.

Zen teaches the value of the present moment, of wabi-sabi beauty in imperfection. And let’s be honest, that’s something the modern world could do with a bit more of. We’re all so obsessed with being seen, being loud, being right. But Zen reminds me to be still. To observe. To understand that not everything needs fixing. Some things just are.

I’m not a monk. I like tech, leather, and a good political argument. But I’ll still sit in silence when the world feels too heavy. I’ll still return to that oak tree in my mind, where I first learned that peace isn’t found by escaping the world but by being completely present in it.

Call it Zen. Call it maturity. Call it British stubbornness seasoned with a bit of Eastern calm. Either way, it stuck with me.