What is the True Measure of Our Education? - Jayendra Salgaonkar

An immensely wealthy American, upon celebrating his centenary, was in the midst of a media interview when his secretary approached him. “Sir,” he announced, “the people to whom you promised donations have arrived.” The industrialist instructed his secretary to bring the chequebooks and, upon their arrival, pressed his thumb upon each cheque. The assembled journalists, astonished to see that he could not even sign his name, asked him, “Sir, you cannot even write your signature? Are you uneducated?” “If I had been educated,” the centenarian replied, “I would be ringing the bells in a church today.” The meaning of his statement eluded the audience. “Could you please elaborate?” they requested. He began his story. “Until the age of forty, I worked in a church, tasked with ringing the bells in the steeple. One day, a new Father arrived and issued a decree: ‘All employees of my church must be educated, with at least a graduate’s degree. Those who are not will be dismissed.’ At forty, where was I to begin my studies? I refused, and tragically, I had to leave my job. As I wandered in despair, a man in a nearby building beckoned me from his window. ‘I am terribly busy and would love a cup of tea,’ he said. ‘It would be a great help if you could fetch one for me.’ I went to a nearby shop and brought him a cup of tea. Delighted, he offered me a handsome tip. In that moment, a realization dawned upon me: there must be countless people like him, too engrossed in their work to step out for tea, a cigarette, or a snack. I began to seek out such individuals, offering to deliver these small necessities. Gradually, this service grew into a significant business, and by the time I reached one hundred, I was a millionaire. And so I say, if I had been educated back then, I would have spent the rest of my life ringing the bells in that church.” I once heard this anecdote narrated by the honourable Sarsanghchalak, Shri Mohan Bhagwat, and it comes to mind today for a profound reason. The identity of the man, the country, or the community involved is irrelevant. The essence of the story raises a fundamental question: does education truly teach us how to live? Education, after all, is not merely for sustenance. The entire animal kingdom—dogs, cats, tigers, lions, crows—manages to fill its belly. What, then, is the purpose of our learning? Have we ever truly sought to understand it? For generations, the Indian education system has primarily imparted lessons on how to secure a livelihood. Today, as our nation celebrates its of independence and prepares to soar towards becoming a global superpower, it is imperative that, amidst the Diwali festivities, we take a moment to examine the very foundations of this system. Diwali is the festival of lights, a time to illuminate the darkness in our lives with the lamp of knowledge. It seems only fitting that while the world outside glitters with lamps, we turn our gaze inward to diagnose and understand the shadows that have fallen upon our own path of knowledge. Education is the bedrock of any nation’s progress. It is not a mere process of information transfer but a force that shapes character and transforms society. In India, this tradition of learning began in the Vedic era, with the as its principal medium. Here, a disciple would reside in the Guru’s ashram, receiving an education rooted in spiritual, moral, physical, and intellectual development. In our culture, the word ‘Guru’ transcends the role of a mere teacher; it signifies a guide who leads one from darkness to light, from ignorance to wisdom, and who inspires the ascent of the soul. This hallowed tradition of , passed down through millennia, is a unique and unparalleled legacy of learning, spiritual practice, and self-realisation—a cornerstone of India’s cultural and academic heritage. The roots of this tradition lie in the Vedas, Upanishads, and other sacred texts that describe the profound relationship between master and disciple. This education was not rote learning; it was an entire way of life. Lord Krishna, Balarama, and Sudama studied in the ashram of Sage Sandipani; Sage Vasishtha was the Guru to King Dasharatha and later to Lord Rama. In Indian philosophy, the Guru is equated with the divine itself, as the Upanishads declare: Gurur Brahma, Gurur Vishnu, Gurur Devo Maheshwarah, Guruh Sakshat Parabrahma, Tasmai Shri Gurave Namah. (The Guru is the Creator, the Guru is the Preserver, the Guru is the Destroyer. The Guru is the absolute reality, the ultimate Brahman. Salutations to that revered Guru.) History is replete with legendary Guru-disciple pairings: the dialogue between Krishna and Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita; the guidance of Vasishtha that shaped Rama’s path; the political and strategic mentorship of Chanakya that forged the emperor Chandragupta Maurya. This was the bedrock upon which a prosperous and enlightened India was built. However, this edifice of learning began to crumble under the weight of successive foreign invasions. For two thousand years, our nation withstood external aggressions, followed by 150 years of British colonial rule. While Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj laid the foundation for self-rule, self-language, and self-respect, and the Maratha empire later carried its banners far and wide, the loss at Panipat and the subsequent British dominion dealt a devastating blow. The colonisers, with cold and calculated precision, systematically undermined our culture, traditions, unity, and values. The most insidious blow was struck against our education. The British established schools that were, in effect, factories for producing clerks—functionaries to serve their administrative machine. Generation after generation of Indians became workers on this colonial assembly line. We forgot the revolutionary contributions of our own education reformers—Savitribai and Jyotiba Phule, Dhondo Keshav Karve, Lokmanya Tilak, and Karmaveer Bhaurao Patil. Even after independence, in a monumental oversight, we clung to the British educational framework as our ideal. Instead of crafting an indigenous education policy that would cast off the shackles of mental slavery, we perpetuated it, rendering our nation economically and academically weak on the world stage. Today, as India competes with global powers like America, Japan, and China, we must ask ourselves: where do we truly stand in the realm of education? Our nation faces a strange paradox: on one hand, a dearth of skilled labour, and on the other, a vast, swelling sea of unemployed youth. This chasm only widens with each passing year. Does our education teach us about our country, our duties, our diverse ways of life? Does it teach us about the human body, emotions, or spirituality? Does the knowledge we acquire have any application in our daily lives? We have failed to create a system that truly cultivates a human being. The new National Education Policy (NEP) introduced by Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government has begun its implementation. Will it answer these questions? Will it complete the process of making a person humane? Only time will tell, for its true impact will only be visible in another two or three decades. For seventy-five years, those who found our education system to be merely a means of sustenance have sought learning abroad. As of 2023, nearly nine lakh Indian students have gone overseas for education, a number that grows by over 50% annually. If we had preserved the essence of our tradition, the situation would be reversed; students from across the world would be flocking to India. Among the world’s education systems, Japan’s is widely regarded as a model of progress. While adopting Western methods since the Meiji era (1868), Japan has steadfastly integrated its own culture, discipline, and values. Let us draw a comparison:

• Discipline: In India, discipline is often imposed. In Japan, it is internalized. Students clean their own schools, fostering self-reliance and responsibility from a young age.

• Focus: India’s system is exam-centric, creating immense pressure and stifling creativity. Quality is measured in marks. In Japan, knowledge, participation, and co-curricular activities are valued. Art, music, sports, and social service are woven into the daily schedule, building confidence and leadership.

• Goal of Education: In India, education is largely seen as a qualification for a job. In Japan, it is seen as the process of creating a responsible citizen, emphasizing character, cooperation, and patriotism.

In essence, if India’s ancient system taught the path to self-realization (Atma-gyan), Japan’s modern system teaches the discipline of self-mastery (Atma-shist). The convergence of these two paths creates the truly enlightened individual. Japan, a nation utterly devastated in the Second World War, rose from the ashes to become an economic superpower within three decades, built on the pillars of discipline, technology, and education. As India now navigates a post-pandemic world of economic realignment, this is a lesson we must heed. Osho once remarked that the failure of an education system is evident when children cry on their way to school and are happy on their way out. The proliferation of private institutions has sparked a cutthroat, fee-driven competition, while the public education system languishes. Teachers in unaided schools work without pay or for a pittance, their decades-long struggle with the government over grants and salaries a grim backdrop to the education of our children. We have obsessively pursued English, teaching all subjects in a foreign tongue in the hope of mastering one language. In the process, we have devalued our own. We insisted on teaching Pythagoras’s theorem and the Queen's English to the sons and daughters of our hereditary artisan communities—the . We taught them that their ancestral crafts, passed down through generations, were contemptible. We snuffed out the art in their hands and, in doing so, became willing carriers of our own colonial baggage. Instead, we should have provided them with a scientific understanding of their crafts, teaching them how to build their skills into global brands. In an agrarian nation, agriculture is absent from the core curriculum. As India celebrates its and steps into a new era with a new education policy, it is time for us, the parents, to look back. We must question what we have learned and how it has served us in our lives. It is time for every thinking citizen to look our education system in the eye and ask, with courage and conviction, the fundamental question: What is the true measure of your education?- Jayendra Salgaonkar Director -'Kalnirnay' 

(This article is the translated version of the original article

आपल्या 

शिक्षणाची यत्ता

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 written by

Jayendra Salgaonkar

published in the Sahitya Chaprak Diwali Ank 2025 ) https://shop.chaprak.com/product/diwali-ank-2025/