The very first question I remember being asked was, ‘Which class are you in, and what do you want to become when you grow up?’ That single question captures the essence of our current education system—it trains us more for the future we’re expected to fit into, rather than the life we are living right now.
Human beings are the most advanced species in their capacity to deeply understand and reflect upon their surroundings. Yet, we continue to struggle with truly understanding one of the most vital aspects of our existence: education. At its core, education is meant to teach us how to live. It is not merely about acquiring information, but about learning to think, to question, and to grow. For a being that can learn and reason, education becomes the very tool through which life is understood and truly lived.
To realize the importance of education, imagine a society where people are taught nothing. Without guidance or understanding, even the most intelligent species could fall prey to their impulses, driven by emotion rather than reason, leading to chaos. And so, the scholars step in—those who propose a system to help individuals know themselves, their thoughts, emotions, and desires. The goal is that instead of being ruled by them, we can learn to use them wisely and consciously.
An ideal education system isn’t built overnight. It takes generations of visionaries who recognize the need to enlighten their society. They lay a foundation that focuses on the young, carving them into thoughtful individuals capable of understanding both themselves and the world. These children grow up not merely to follow instructions, but to question norms, examine truths, and make decisions that benefit the greater good.
Those who truly understand this know that a powerful education system creates powerful people. It gives the masses the ability to reflect on their leaders' actions, to challenge authority when needed, and to become leaders themselves. As Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj once said, ‘The true aim of a ruler is to empower citizens, allowing them to govern themselves and build a strong, independent nation.’ That is what real education does—it doesn’t just teach obedience; it inspires sovereignty, wisdom, and collective strength.
But modern education strays far from this ideal. The system left behind by the British speaks nothing of self-empowerment. It was never built on courage or resilience; it was built on fear. Fear of failure, fear of shame. Instead of recognizing individual strengths and nurturing them, our system demands uniform excellence. It treats education not as a journey, but as a race—one where only the fastest in every lane are deemed successful.
A child is labeled a failure even before they’ve had the chance to explore the threads of their own thoughts. Education has been reduced to an industry, and the innocent lives of children are its most exploited resource. The constant comparison between a child excelling in sport and one performing well in science produces not excellence, but trauma—trauma passed silently from one generation to the next.
Children are taught that low marks mean failure—not just in school, but in life. This implants a dangerous idea: that a career is life, when in truth, a career is merely one thread in the vast fabric of living. They are taught to memorize, not understand. To regurgitate, not reflect. Their creativity is boxed, and any deviation from the textbook is penalized. High marks are glorified, and cheating becomes a strategy for survival.
They are rarely taught the basics of existing—civic sense, compassion, emotional resilience. No one tells them that it is okay to be hurt, that forgiveness is strength, or that failure is just a mechanism for growth. Instead, hurt children grow into hurting adults. Our brilliant minds, capable of incredible insight, are trained not to think, but to fear.
We are thrown into deeply unhealthy competitions. A boy who loves music is forced to sit for the JEE, and when he falls short, he questions his fundamental worth. He is conditioned to believe a lie about his own emptiness, and tragically, sometimes that lie costs him his life. Is this the ultimate goal of education? To fit every child into the rigid mold of an engineer or doctor? To trade their innate dreams for ranks and percentages?
Was it always like this? No. If we delve into ancient India, particularly the earliest Vedic age, we discover a profoundly humane system of learning. Classes were often held beneath trees or within temple courtyards, guided by sages and Brahmins. Lessons went far beyond textbooks, covering self-defense, moral values, compassion, kindness, and the art of sharing—the essential ingredients of being truly human.
Career choices were considered just one part of life, never the whole of it. Those who excelled in academics advanced to prestigious centers of learning like Nalanda and Takshila, where students studied subjects ranging from astronomy and literature to medicine and early scientific thought. India’s grasp of the sciences at that time remains astonishing even today. Those less inclined toward scholarship were not looked down upon; they contributed through farming, craftsmanship, or service in the king’s army. Poets, artists, scientists, and philosophers all found their place in society, respected for their distinct roles and talents.
But so much of it was destroyed. Nalanda University—a treasure of human intellect—was set ablaze by Bakhtiyar Khilji, an invader who clearly never understood the value of what he was burning. It is said the great library burned for months, as nine towering storeys of knowledge were reduced to ash—along with the dreams, wisdom, and light of a civilization that once dared to teach not just how to earn a living, but how to live.
Alas, we remain largely unaware that the very people who once walked this land over a thousand years ago were so intellectually advanced that they could map the positions of Jupiter and Saturn without a telescope. Their understanding of mathematics was so profound that one among them gifted the world the concept of zero, an idea that redefined the course of modern science.
At the heart of their educational system was something the modern world has almost entirely forgotten: spirituality. The central idea of existence was simple yet revolutionary—we are all made of the same fundamental elements. The very fabric of the universe flows equally through each of us, weaving different lives into one grand narrative. We are many, yet one.
The connection that these spiritual teachings offered was fearless, pure, and lifelong. And it wasn’t mere philosophy—it is mirrored in modern science. Astrophysics tells us we are all made of stardust, born from the same collapsing atoms in the cosmos. At the atomic level, we are indistinguishable. So why do we pretend to be so different on the outside, when our building blocks are exactly the same?
Ancient texts also present another profound narrative that encapsulates the entirety of human life. It speaks of four guiding pillars: Dharma (Righteousness), Artha (Prosperity), Kama (Desires), and Moksha (Freedom). These pillars must be pursued in a specific harmony to lead a balanced life.
Dharma is the foundation. It represents the right education—understanding one’s duties and responsibilities in life. It reminds us that desires are endless, and without setting a moral compass, one can be lost in a perpetual chase.
Artha comes next. It is the pursuit of livelihood. A person who follows Dharma will earn in ethical ways, reflecting an uncorrupted character, thus contributing positively to society.
Once Artha is earned, it is wisely used to fulfill Kama—one's desires. But true knowledge teaches us that those desires, too, are endless. By recognizing this, we develop humility, becoming individuals who help others and offer support to society.
Finally, Moksha is the liberation from all attachments. It is the realization that nothing is permanent, that all things—wealth, relationships, achievements—are transient. Understanding this truth brings freedom, a release from the endless pursuit of more.
The depth of this concept has the power to shake even the most steadfast minds. A scientific mind, for instance, would be compelled to explore every possible way to create the best educational system—one that reflects the wisdom passed down by our ancestors. To build such a system, we must begin by training teachers not just in pedagogy, but in empathy, and by replacing exam-centric evaluation with project-based learning that values curiosity over compliance.
Ultimately, the right education is the solution to the deepest societal problems we face. But to truly change the world, we must first change the way we view learning itself. The real test of an education system is not in the marksheets it prints, but in the kind of human beings it produces.