This is an elaborated and edited text to the talk delivered by the author in a TEDx event.
This theme is not only highly relevant but also, I would venture to say, incredibly urgent. I emphasize this for two main reasons:
First, I invite you to visualize, imagine, and time travel with me six to eight years into the future. Picture me standing before you in 2030-32 to deliver this talk. Alongside me, another entity could be present—a perfect blend of silicon and carbon. It’s now possible to introduce silicon into carbon-based molecules, creating an entity with extraordinary capabilities. This entity would process information infinitely faster than I can. It could answer your questions and even pose questions for you. It could deliver this talk with remarkable skill. Welcome to technological inundation, where today’s Artificial Narrow Intelligence (ANI) has advanced to the next stage: Artificial General Intelligence (AGI). This phase could potentially surpass human intelligence. This reality forces us to confront a question: Will humans become incapable of independent thought?
Second, the concept of Jigyasa—the power of questioning—is central to any educational effort worldwide. The true purpose of education is to awaken in the learner a love for learning rather than simply filling the mind with information. Jigyasa should be the leitmotif of educational literature, exercises, curricula, and so on.
With this backdrop, let’s explore the meaning of Jigyasa.
Jigyasa is a Hindi word borrowed from Sanskrit. Etymologically, it’s a desiderative verb derived from the root “Jna,” as in “Jnan.” Thus, Jigyasa means “to know” or “knowledge.” Knowing emerges from a desire to understand, sparking the process of Jigyasa. A thought arises in the mind as a question, which leads to further inquiry. This thought then seeks manifestation and expression, moving to the next step: questioning. Questioning creates situations or circumstances that allow that initial thought to be expressed. Words like curiosity, inquiry, inquisitiveness, and intrigue are all facets of Jigyasa.
Let’s focus on curiosity. Allow me to prefix it with “insatiable”—insatiable curiosity, unending curiosity, persistent curiosity. Curiosity is inherent to human nature from birth. Picture an infant in a pram, a three- or four-month-old child. You approach, and the child fixes his or her gaze on you. The child isn’t interested in your name, background, or achievements; they simply observe your form. This gaze represents pure curiosity. If you make a sound on either side of the child, they immediately turn towardsit, not to understand what the sound is but merely to discover where it came from. This curiosity has no end goal; it exists purely for the joy of exploration.
As the infant grows into a child, goes to school, and eventually becomes an adult, what happens to that curiosity? What happens to those eyes, those ears? Where does the curiosity go? Eyes that once sought knowledge and discovery are now filled with information, as if one has reached the end of learning. The more one "knows," the less wise one become. The sparkle of curiosity fades, replaced by the urge to share acquired knowledge rather than to seek.
So, how is this curiosity lost? What kills it? As we go through schooling, we start living in a question-answer paradigm, creating a pattern of dependency. We’re busy answering questions that aren’t even ours. Our focus shifts to finding answers to fit an examination framework. Rarely do we question our answers as much as we answer our questions. Most of our lives are spent structuring answers to maximize scores or grades. We accept what’s given, we live the word not the real.
Is there a way to keep the flame of Jigyasa alive? Here are some suggestions:
Move Away from “Telling”: As adults, we know a lot, so when a child asks a question, we often respond immediately. But the child may not be seeking an answer; they may just want to deepen their inquiry. The child might be looking for your full attention rather than an answer. Giving attention and counter-questioning can keep the fire of Jigyasa alive.
Embrace a Variety of Experiences: We often limit ourselves to familiar foods, places, and people, causing our minds to become accustomed to certain stimuli. When we fall into patterns, we stifle Jigyasa. Exposing ourselves to diverse experiences stimulates curiosity by presenting something novel and unfamiliar.
Limit Textual Learning: We are submerged in text—books, screens, everywhere. Reducing our exposure to information and text helps keep questioning alive. The process is more important than conclusions.
Shift from Teaching to Facilitating: Nothing can be taught; all knowledge lies within, waiting to emerge. Inquiry is key. The teacher should become a facilitator, a guide, a friend on the journey of knowing. Moving from the “teacher-student” paradigm to a “co-learner” approach encourages questioning. Instead of asking questions as an expert to "test" a child's knowledge, the facilitator says, “Let’s learn together.” The child is always seeking a curious human being behind the façade of the teacher.
Jigyasa is the best friend that I have. It facilitates my growth. The state of enquiry keeps me moving, it’s the driver of one’s life journey. As I reflect, I witness myself as an instrument a nimita matra, through which Jigyasa is seeking its own fulfillment, using the instruments-eyes, ears, tongue, skin towards a culmination into a higher truth of life and being. After all, Jigyasa merges from where it originated from, it has no purpose, it need not have any purpose other than the playful joy of its own journey.