A Country Becomes Beautiful When Its People Begin to See

 

We live amidst extraordinary landscapes—temple streets layered with history, villages that wake to mist and birdsong, coastlines that shift colour by the hour. And yet, our everyday surroundings often feel neglected. A wall peels and remains unattended. A street gathers clutter until it fades into the background of daily life. Public spaces slowly become no one’s responsibility. We pass through them without really looking.

This is not only a failure of governance. It is a failure of attention.

No policy can beautify a country whose people do not feel beauty in their surroundings. Cleanliness drives can remove dirt; regulations can impose order. But they cannot create the quiet desire to make a place aesthetically alive. That desire emerges only when people begin to see their environment differently—not as a backdrop, but as something worth caring for.

History suggests that such a shift often begins with artists.

In nineteenth-century France, painters like Claude Monet, Vincent van Gogh, and Paul Cézanne left the city and turned their attention to villages and countryside. They painted fields, cottages, rivers, and narrow streets—ordinary places, rendered with extraordinary attention to light and colour.

Houses on the Hill by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

 

What changed was not the landscape, but perception. The everyday acquired dignity. Villages became objects of admiration. Over time, these images entered public imagination, and places like Provence and Arles came to be seen not just as locations, but as aesthetic identities.

Art did not merely depict beauty. It taught people how to notice it.

A similar sensibility took shape in Japan. Artists such as Hiroshige Ando captured fleeting scenes—a road in the rain, a bridge at dusk, travellers in passing moments. There was no spectacle, only attention to the transient and the ordinary.

This way of seeing did not remain within art. It entered life itself—into how spaces were arranged, how streets were maintained, how small details were treated with care. Over time, it produced an environment where even the simplest settings appear intentional and serene.

Japan’s aesthetic refinement did not arise by accident. It emerged because people learned, gradually, to see.

Cherry Blossoms under the Full Moon by Utagawa Hiroshige

 

In the United Kingdom, this relationship between art and environment has evolved into public participation. The landscape tradition shaped by artists like J. M. W. Turner and John Constable continues today through competitions and programs that bring artists into real settings. People watch, engage, and begin to look more closely at landscapes they might otherwise ignore.

Flatford mill, John Constable

 

Beauty becomes not distant, but shared.

India has already shown, through initiatives like Swachh Bharat Mission, that collective behavior can change. But cleanliness is only a beginning. A place can be clean and still feel lifeless. The deeper challenge is to move from cleanliness to care, from compliance to pride.

That transition cannot be enforced. It must be felt.

What might such a shift look like? It could begin with artists turning their attention to the lived environments of India—streets, neighborhoods, villages, small towns. Painters, photographers, and students could treat these spaces not as problems to be fixed, but as subjects worthy of attention.

When a place is painted, it changes—not physically, but perceptually. A familiar street, seen through an artist’s eye, reveals patterns and relationships that were previously overlooked. Those who live there begin to see it differently.

And that difference matters.

A shopkeeper who sees his street as something that can be beautiful may think twice before adding to its clutter. A resident who sees her locality represented with care may feel pride. A child who sketches her surroundings begins to notice details others miss, forming a relationship with her environment that is attentive and responsible.

Such changes are small, but they accumulate. They influence behavior. They shape expectations. Over time, they create a culture in which beauty is not exceptional, but normal.

Institutions can support this shift—through competitions, exhibitions, and platforms that celebrate local environments. Schools can encourage students to observe and represent their surroundings. Media can highlight places for their aesthetic potential, not only their problems. But these are enablers. The transformation itself is personal.

It lies in how we look.

Do we move through our surroundings without seeing them? Do we accept visual disorder as inevitable? Or do we pause, even briefly, to notice light, colour, and form?

A country becomes beautiful when its people begin to feel that their environment is not neutral. It reflects what we value.

This awareness cannot be imposed from above. It must be cultivated through repeated acts of attention.

The beginning is modest. An artist paints a street. A student sketches a corner. A community takes pride in its surroundings. These acts may seem small, but they reshape perception. And when perception changes, behavior follows.

India does not need to discover beauty. It is already present. What we need is to recover our ability to see it—and, having seen it, to care.

Perhaps the first step is not to clean a street, though that is necessary. It is to look at it, quietly and attentively, as if it were worth painting.

Reclaiming India’s Place in the Story of Science

 

 

When people speak about “history,” they usually mean the history of kings, conquests, wars, and political revolutions. Even when textbooks are revised or reforms are debated, the focus remains on dynasties and battles — as though the scientific imagination of a civilization were somehow secondary. But if one truly wants to understand a nation’s intellectual heritage, one must look not only at its rulers, but at its scientists, mathematicians, and thinkers — the people who shaped how we understand the world itself. And it is here that an irony in the global story of science becomes clear.

The history of modern science often begins with a dramatic image: Galileo climbing the Leaning Tower of Pisa and dropping two stones to show that objects of different masses fall at the same rate. His demonstration overturned Aristotle’s ancient belief that heavier objects fall faster — an idea that persisted, unquestioned, for nearly 1,500 years in Europe.

This story is taught worldwide as a triumph of reason over authority. But there is an uncomfortable detail hiding in plain sight: for a millennium and a half, no one in Europe bothered to test a simple experiment that even a school student could try today. Galileo’s brilliance is celebrated, as it should be, but Europe’s long intellectual stagnation before him is quietly forgiven.

Meanwhile, during these very centuries, India was witnessing one of the brightest periods in the global history of mathematics, astronomy, and scientific thought. Aryabhata proposed that Earth rotates on its axis, offered remarkably accurate astronomical constants, and developed sophisticated trigonometric methods. Brahmagupta formalized rules for zero, negative numbers, and algebra. Bhāskara II anticipated concepts of calculus and described gravitational attraction centuries before Newton. The Kerala school produced infinite series expansions that echoed what would later become central ideas in European calculus.

These contributions were not scattered accidents. They emerged from centuries of organised scholarship, rigorous debate, observational astronomy, and mathematical innovation. India’s intellectual tradition produced treatises, commentaries, and scientific lineages comparable to the great schools of Greece, China, and the Islamic world.

And yet, in global science histories, Europe’s forgotten errors are remembered, while India’s extraordinary achievements are often forgotten. Western narratives celebrate their breakthroughs while softly glossing over the gaps. Indian contributions, by contrast, are frequently reduced to footnotes or are treated as curiosities rather than foundational milestones. This asymmetry has shaped how generations of students — including in India itself — have come to understand science: as something invented elsewhere, in languages they do not speak, in cultures they do not inhabit.

This disconnect matters, because a nation’s confidence in shaping the future depends on its understanding of its past. The countries that dominate science today — from the United States to Israel to Japan — carry a deep cultural belief that scientific inquiry is part of their identity. India, paradoxically, is one of the world’s oldest scientific civilizations, yet its modern scientific institutions were built on colonial-era foundations that often ignored or dismissed indigenous knowledge systems.

But India is now re-emerging as a scientific power. From ISRO’s lunar missions to India’s digital public infrastructure, from breakthroughs in vaccine manufacturing to the rise of AI and semiconductor ambitions, India’s scientific and technological momentum is unmistakable. What is missing is not capability, but continuity — the sense that modern Indian science is not an imitation project, but the latest chapter in a civilizational story.

Reclaiming this continuity requires three shifts.

First, India’s scientific heritage must be taught with scholarly rigor.
This does not mean romanticizing the past, but recognizing genuine achievements. Aryabhata should be taught alongside Kepler, Sushruta alongside Hippocrates, the Kerala school alongside Newton. Students should encounter India’s intellectual traditions not as cultural trivia but as part of the global conversation of science.

Second, we must acknowledge the ruptures honestly.
The destruction of ancient universities, the loss of scientific lineages, and the colonial dismissal of indigenous knowledge created a deep break in India’s intellectual history. Understanding these ruptures is essential for rebuilding confidence without myth-making.

Third, India must integrate its civilizational identity with its modern scientific aspirations.
We are entering an era where Indian science is visible, ambitious, and globally relevant. But it will gain even greater strength when rooted in a longer tradition — when young scientists see not only the laboratories of Bengaluru and Hyderabad, but also the intellectual l
egacy of Ujjain, Nalanda, and Kerala as part of their story.

Science is not the property of any one civilization. It is a human inheritance shaped by many cultures, traditions, and languages. The story of science is richest when we recognize its multiple origins and the dialogues between them.

For India, reclaiming this place in the story of science is not an act of nostalgia. It is an act of confidence. It is a reminder that the spirit of inquiry — the courage to ask questions, to observe, to experiment — has lived here for millennia. And as India rises once again on the scientific frontier, it is time the world remembered this, and time India remembered it too.

 

Ushering in an Indian Renaissance by University Reform: Restoring the Bond Between Knowledge, Culture, and Society

 

1.0 Introduction

Indian universities today stand at a critical crossroads. Once celebrated as centers of civilizational learning that nurtured both intellectual and moral growth, they have become increasingly detached from the society they are meant to serve. The prevailing educational model—largely inherited from the colonial era and reinforced by Western academic paradigms—has distanced higher education from India’s cultural roots, community life, and indigenous systems of knowledge.

This detachment has had far-reaching consequences: knowledge has become abstracted from lived experience, and education has become a pathway to employment rather than enlightenment or social transformation. To reclaim their rightful purpose, Indian universities must reorient themselves toward the people and the land that sustain them. They must study and reflect the society around them—its culture, ethos, and history—while also engaging with its contemporary challenges through innovation, research, and locally rooted entrepreneurship.

This article calls for a comprehensive reform of Indian higher education guided by two intertwined imperatives: the renewal of knowledge dissemination through the integration of Indian Knowledge Systems, and the revitalization of employment preparation through partnerships with local industries, MSMEs, and family-run enterprises. By restoring the organic link between knowledge, livelihood, and culture, Indian universities can once again become living institutions that both reflect and reshape the society they serve.

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2.0 Historical Roots of the Disconnect

2.1 Destruction of the Gurukul System

The roots of this disconnection can be traced back to the colonial period, which systematically dismantled India’s indigenous systems of learning, most notably the Gurukul and community-based educational models. These institutions were deeply embedded in the social fabric of local communities and offered holistic instruction across a wide range of disciplines—philosophy, mathematics, medicine, grammar, logic, astronomy, and governance—while nurturing moral and spiritual development.

Unlike modern universities, these traditional centers of learning were sustained by community participation and local patronage. Education was not seen as a means to individual advancement alone but as a social duty, a process of cultivating wisdom for the collective well-being of society. Teachers (gurus) and students (shishyas) lived and learned together in an atmosphere of discipline, inquiry, and mutual respect, forming an enduring bond between education and everyday life.

This system began to unravel under British colonial rule. The colonial administration introduced a new educational framework designed to serve imperial needs rather than local aspirations. Schools and universities established under British policy prioritized English language instruction and administrative skills over creativity, reasoning, or philosophical depth. Historical research, notably by thinkers such as Dharampal, has shown that pre-colonial India enjoyed widespread literacy and a decentralized, community-based educational network that was both accessible and effective. British policies disrupted these networks, redirecting resources and altering curricula to produce a workforce suitable for clerical and bureaucratic roles within the colonial apparatus.

(https://hinduperspective.com/2015/05/04/education-system-in-pre-british-india-by-ram-swarup/)

The result was the erosion of a knowledge system that had once been both rooted in culture and responsive to society. Education became detached from India’s intellectual traditions, practical life, and moral imagination—setting in motion a legacy of alienation that continues to shape Indian universities today.

2.2 The British Education System and Its Impact

The British colonial administration’s reconfiguration of education in India was not merely an institutional change but a civilizational intervention. The aim was to replace an organically evolved system of learning with one that served the administrative and ideological needs of the Empire. This transformation was guided by utilitarian logic: to produce a class of functionaries who could efficiently manage the colonial machinery at minimal cost.

This intent was made explicit in the famous Minute on Indian Education (1835) by Thomas Babington Macaulay, which called for the creation of “a class of persons, Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste, in opinions, in morals, and in intellect.” The resulting education system emphasized literacy in English, mastery of clerical procedures, and obedience to authority rather than the cultivation of inquiry, imagination, or moral reflection. Schools and colleges became training grounds for government service rather than spaces for intellectual exploration or social engagement.

The consequences were far-reaching. A once plural and dialogic intellectual culture—where Sanskrit, Persian, Arabic, and regional languages coexisted—was replaced by a rigid, hierarchical model that privileged English and Western thought. The sciences, arts, and humanities were filtered through a Eurocentric lens, relegating indigenous knowledge to the margins. As a result, education ceased to be an instrument of self-understanding and became a means of social mobility within a colonial order.

This system also severed the connection between universities and the economic life of the nation. Traditional industries, crafts, and agrarian innovations—once supported by locally relevant learning—found little recognition in the new curriculum. The universities trained clerks and administrators, not inventors or entrepreneurs. The emphasis on rote learning, memorization, and examination replaced the experiential, problem-solving ethos that had characterized pre-colonial learning.

Even after independence, the underlying structure of this colonial model persisted. The symbols changed, but the spirit remained: English continued as the language of prestige, Western theories dominated academic discourse, and universities remained oriented toward bureaucratic or corporate employment. The result has been a continuing alienation—between academia and industry, knowledge and livelihood, and, ultimately, between education and the lived realities of Indian society.

To this day, the shadow of this colonial framework lingers in the mindset of institutions and policymakers, shaping curricula, pedagogy, and aspirations. Recognizing this historical continuity is essential to understanding why Indian universities often struggle to address local challenges or nurture original thought. Any meaningful reform must therefore begin with dismantling the intellectual hierarchies inherited from colonial rule and restoring education’s purpose as a medium of social transformation and cultural self-renewal.

 

2.3 Timeliness of Reform: Geopolitical Shifts

The call for educational reform in India does not arise in isolation; it is inseparable from the profound geopolitical and intellectual transformations unfolding across the world today. For more than two centuries, Western nations have shaped the global order—not only politically and economically but also epistemically—defining what counts as legitimate knowledge, progress, and development. Yet this dominance is now visibly waning.

The Western model of industrial capitalism, with its extractive economic logic and instrumental view of knowledge, is confronting crises on multiple fronts: ecological exhaustion, social fragmentation, and moral disillusionment. Economies that once drove global innovation now struggle with stagnation, inequality, and declining public trust in institutions. Simultaneously, emerging economies in Asia, Africa, and Latin America are asserting new forms of cultural and intellectual self-confidence, challenging the notion that modernization must follow Western templates.

In this shifting landscape, India occupies a uniquely strategic position. As one of the world’s largest knowledge societies—home to a civilizational tradition that has produced enduring philosophies of education, ecology, ethics, and governance—India has both the moral depth and demographic energy to redefine the terms of global knowledge production. The world’s growing interest in mindfulness, Ayurveda, yoga, sustainable living, and holistic thinking reflects an increasing openness to Indian epistemologies and ways of life that emphasize harmony, balance, and interdependence.

This moment therefore offers India not only an opportunity but also a responsibility: to articulate an alternative model of education that integrates the wisdom of its own civilizational heritage with the tools and methods of contemporary science. By doing so, Indian universities can become laboratories of synthesis—places where tradition and modernity meet to generate sustainable, human-centered innovation.

Reform is thus not merely a domestic necessity but a geopolitical imperative. If India can successfully reform its universities to reconnect with its social, cultural, and intellectual roots, it could lead a global movement toward a more plural and humane knowledge order—one that values diversity of thought and local wisdom as essential components of global progress.

In short, the world is ready for new paradigms, and India is ready to offer them. But to do so, its universities must first rediscover their own foundations and reimagine education not as imitation but as creation—grounded in the soil of Indian experience and open to the horizons of the world.

 

 

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3.0 A Roadmap to Reform

At its most fundamental level, the purpose of a university is not merely to disseminate information or produce employable graduates. A university must constantly strive to improve the quality of life in the society that sustains it. It is a living institution—rooted in its cultural soil and responsive to its people’s aspirations. To fulfill this purpose, a university must study the society around it: its culture, ethos, and history; its worldview and values; its scientific and artistic traditions.

From this understanding flows the university’s second great responsibility: to identify the problems that afflict its society and to generate the knowledge, innovation, and human capacity required to address them. A university must therefore be a bridge between knowledge and life—where teaching, research, and engagement are guided by a sense of responsibility toward the community and the nation.

It is from this moral and intellectual standpoint that the following reforms are proposed to realign Indian universities with the society they serve.

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3.1 Integrating Indian Knowledge Systems (IKS)

The first and most foundational step toward re-establishing the bond between universities and society is to integrate Indian Knowledge Systems (IKS) into higher education in both spirit and structure. This is not merely a matter of curricular enrichment but of intellectual reorientation — a recognition that India possesses vast reservoirs of indigenous knowledge, cultivated over millennia, which continue to offer profound insights into the nature of learning, governance, ecology, and human flourishing.

Indian Knowledge Systems encompass a remarkably diverse range of disciplines and methodologies: the logical rigor of Nyāya and Vaiśeṣika philosophies, the linguistic precision of Vyākaraṇa, the mathematical and astronomical innovations of Aryabhata and Bhaskara, the medical sophistication of Āyurveda and Sushruta Samhita, and the ethical and ecological sensibilities embedded in texts such as the Arthashastra and Upanishads. These traditions represent a continuum of intellectual exploration in which knowledge was inseparable from values — where understanding was always directed toward harmony between the individual, society, and nature.

 

(image credits: https://iksindia.org/)

In contrast, the modern university system inherited from the West often isolates disciplines from their moral and ecological contexts. Knowledge is fragmented into specializations and pursued largely for economic utility. By bringing IKS into conversation with modern scientific and technological education, universities can recover an integrative vision of learning — one that seeks wisdom rather than information, and purpose rather than mere productivity.

The integration of IKS must therefore proceed on three levels:

1. Epistemological integration, by recognizing Indian systems of knowledge as valid frameworks for inquiry rather than as cultural curiosities. This involves studying their methodologies, logic, and theories as living intellectual traditions capable of dialogue with contemporary science and humanities.
2. Curricular integration, by embedding modules on Indian epistemologies, art, ethics, and ecology across disciplines — not as add-ons but as perspectives that shape how knowledge itself is understood.
3. Institutional integration, by creating dedicated research centers, archives, and translation programs that recover, reinterpret, and apply indigenous knowledge to modern challenges in areas like sustainable agriculture, architecture, medicine, and social organization.

Such integration will encourage students and scholars to view knowledge not as an imported commodity but as a living heritage — something to be renewed, tested, and expanded in dialogue with the modern world. It will cultivate a generation of thinkers who understand that modernity and tradition are not opposites but partners in creation, and that progress need not mean abandoning one’s roots.

Ultimately, the inclusion of Indian Knowledge Systems is not a nostalgic return to the past but a forward-looking act of intellectual self-reliance. By drawing on its civilizational wisdom while embracing the best of global science, India can evolve a new paradigm of higher education — one that is contextually grounded, globally relevant, and spiritually enriching.

 

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3.2 Revitalizing Employment Preparation

For universities to truly serve society, education must go beyond abstract knowledge and equip students with the tools, skills, and vision to contribute meaningfully to the nation’s diverse economic and cultural life. Today, higher education in India remains disproportionately oriented toward Western-style corporate employment, channeling talent into metropolitan offices, multinational companies, and a narrow spectrum of technical professions. While these opportunities have value, they often neglect the vast ecosystem of local industries, traditional enterprises, and emerging economic sectors that sustain India’s society and cultural identity.

Revitalizing employment preparation requires a fundamental rethinking of the purpose of vocational and professional education. Universities must cultivate graduates who are not only intellectually competent but also socially attuned, entrepreneurial, and capable of creating value in local contexts. This involves three interlinked strategies:

1. Practical skill development: Curricula should incorporate hands-on training, workshops, and applied research projects that equip students with competencies directly relevant to India’s economy. This includes proficiency in modern technologies adapted to agriculture, small-scale manufacturing, handicrafts, sustainable energy, and other grassroots industries. Skills alone are not enough; students must learn to innovate within the constraints and opportunities of their local environment.
2. Entrepreneurial thinking and social innovation: Universities should cultivate a mindset of problem-solving and enterprise creation. Students should be encouraged to identify societal challenges—such as rural unemployment, sustainable production, or local value chains—and develop scalable solutions. By embedding entrepreneurship and innovation within education, universities can produce leaders who strengthen India’s economic resilience while honoring traditional methods and local knowledge.
3. Community engagement and collaboration: Strong partnerships between universities and local economic actors—family enterprises, cooperatives, small and medium-sized businesses, and craft guilds—can ensure students gain experiential learning opportunities. Internships, co-creation projects, and innovation labs allow students to work alongside practitioners, translating theoretical learning into tangible societal impact. Such exposure also fosters a sense of purpose: graduates recognize that their knowledge and skills have a direct role in advancing India’s developmental priorities.

By reorienting employment preparation toward India’s diverse industries, universities can achieve multiple outcomes simultaneously: sustaining traditional economic systems, promoting innovation in emerging sectors, and grounding education in local realities rather than global corporate expectations. Graduates trained under this vision will be not only employable but socially responsible, culturally informed, and capable of driving inclusive economic growth—effectively bridging the divide between education and society.

In essence, revitalizing employment preparation is about reclaiming education as a tool for social transformation, ensuring that universities produce citizens who can think critically, act responsibly, and contribute meaningfully to the country’s cultural, economic, and ecological well-being.

 

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3.3 Building Bridges with MSMEs

Micro, Small, and Medium Enterprises (MSMEs) constitute the backbone of India’s economy, reflecting both the country’s entrepreneurial spirit and its capacity for grassroots innovation. They provide employment to millions, preserve traditional crafts, and drive regional economic activity. Yet despite their centrality, MSMEs remain largely disconnected from formal education, research institutions, and the wider knowledge ecosystem. This disconnect limits their potential to innovate, adopt new technologies, and scale sustainably, while simultaneously depriving students of opportunities to engage with real-world economic challenges.

Universities can play a transformative role by actively bridging this gap. Through dedicated innovation hubs, incubation centers, and collaborative research initiatives, academic institutions can link their intellectual and technical resources with the practical needs of MSMEs. Such collaboration is not merely transactional; it fosters a dynamic ecosystem where ideas, skills, and innovation flow bidirectionally. Students and researchers gain hands-on experience in problem-solving, design thinking, and applied technology, while MSMEs access expertise in areas such as process optimization, product innovation, digital adoption, and market strategy.

The impact of these partnerships extends beyond immediate economic gains. Over time, they can generate community-centered models of innovation—solutions tailored to local contexts, environmental sustainability, and social needs. For instance, collaborations can help traditional artisans adopt modern production techniques without sacrificing cultural authenticity, or enable small-scale farmers to leverage precision agriculture tools for higher yields and resilience. By linking universities with MSMEs, education becomes a vehicle for inclusive growth, strengthening local economies and empowering communities to achieve self-reliance.

Furthermore, fostering such engagement reinforces a broader cultural and entrepreneurial ethos. Students who work closely with MSMEs develop a grounded understanding of India’s economic landscape, appreciating the value of resilience, adaptability, and social responsibility. MSMEs, in turn, benefit from a continuous infusion of fresh ideas, research insights, and youthful energy. The result is a mutually reinforcing relationship where academia and industry co-evolve, ensuring that education produces not just employable graduates but socially conscious innovators who can sustain India’s economic and cultural heritage.

In essence, building bridges with MSMEs transforms universities from isolated centers of learning into active agents of local and national development, demonstrating how knowledge can be harnessed to nurture economic self-sufficiency, cultural continuity, and socially impactful innovation.

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3.4 Reviving Multigenerational Family Businesses and Cultural Continuity

A meaningful university reform cannot be confined to classrooms and curricula alone; it must engage with the deeper cultural and economic foundations of society. One of the most profound ways to reconnect education with life is by revitalizing India’s traditional systems of enterprise—the multigenerational family businesses that once formed the backbone of the Indian economy.

Historically, these family-run enterprises were not merely economic units; they were social institutions rooted in ethical principles, community trust, and intergenerational learning. Knowledge was transmitted from one generation to the next, blending practical skill with cultural values and a sense of responsibility toward employees and local communities. This model fostered both economic stability and social cohesion, creating networks of self-sustaining, community-centered innovation.

Colonial and postcolonial economic policies disrupted this ecosystem, replacing self-reliant enterprise with dependence on externally driven, corporate-oriented models. Modern education has largely prepared students to be employees rather than innovators—participants in global corporate structures rather than custodians of local enterprise.

Reform must therefore include a cultural reorientation of education toward entrepreneurship rooted in community values. Universities can play a pivotal role by:

• Incorporating the study of traditional business ethics, local trade practices, and family enterprise management into business and economics programs.
• Encouraging intergenerational mentorship models, where students engage directly with family-run or community-based enterprises.
• Establishing innovation cells that modernize traditional industries through digital tools, sustainable technologies, and new markets.

Such initiatives would not only revive the dignity of family entrepreneurship but also strengthen the moral and cultural foundations of India’s economic life. Education thus becomes a medium of cultural continuity—connecting the aspirations of the young with the lived wisdom of earlier generations.

By bringing universities, MSMEs, and family enterprises into a shared ecosystem of learning and innovation, India can restore the organic link between knowledge, livelihood, and culture. This reformation will help create a generation of graduates who see the university not as an escape from society, - an inevitable escape to the West, - but as a vital instrument for its advancement of the Indian society.

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4.0 Conclusion

India’s educational reform cannot be viewed as an isolated policy initiative; it must be understood as an integral part of a broader cultural, economic, and societal transformation, an Indian Renaissance. The reforms outlined in this article—ranging from the reintegration of Indian Knowledge Systems (IKS) into curricula, to the revitalization of employment preparation, to the establishment of meaningful partnerships with MSMEs and family-run enterprises—are all aimed at realigning universities with the society they are meant to serve.

By consciously drawing on IKS, higher education can cultivate graduates who are intellectually versatile, ethically grounded, and culturally aware. By redesigning employment preparation and fostering collaborations with local industries, universities can produce citizens who innovate responsibly, generate value for their communities, and contribute to both traditional and emerging sectors of India’s economy. Meanwhile, by supporting MSMEs and family businesses, universities can ensure that students’ learning is directly linked to the economic and cultural vitality of India, sustaining multigenerational knowledge, skills, and entrepreneurial practices that are often overlooked in modern education.

The ultimate goal of these reforms is to create a holistic, integrated educational ecosystem—one in which knowledge is not abstracted from society but is generated, tested, and applied in real-world contexts of India. Students who emerge from such a system will not only possess academic and professional competence but will also understand their role as active participants in India’s social, economic, and cultural life. They will be equipped to build careers that honor their roots while embracing innovation, contributing to an India that is economically self-reliant, socially cohesive, and environmentally sustainable.

In doing so, India can move beyond the mimicry of Western educational paradigms and instead pioneer a model of higher education that harmonizes modern scientific and technological knowledge with our civilisational wisdom. Such a transformation positions India to lead globally, not merely in economic terms but as a thought leader in redefining the purpose and practice of education itself—an education that empowers individuals, strengthens communities, and advances society as a whole.

Ultimately, the envisioned reforms offer more than better employability or academic excellence; they represent a renewal of India’s intellectual and cultural agency, ensuring that higher education becomes a true engine of national development, social cohesion, and global leadership.

 

Traditional Community-Driven Businesses in India: Reviving a Legacy

 Posting after a long gap...

Recently i wrote an article that was published in the Telugu daily Eenadu. Attaching the original article. A brief translation of the same is given below.

Traditional Community-Driven Businesses in India: Reviving a Legacy

As a professor, I once asked graduating students about their dream careers. Names like Amazon, Microsoft, and Facebook rolled out instantly — not one Indian company was mentioned. It struck me how little today’s youth know of India’s rich legacy of community-driven businesses that shaped our economy for millennia.

Long before modern corporations, Indians were global traders. They sailed to Rome, Greece, and China, backed by powerful trade guilds — some with private armies. As Sanjeev Sanyal notes, “India was a vast economic network long before colonialism, and its people were global traders with an eye on the future.” This spirit of enterprise is the foundation of India’s business culture.

Under British India, despite colonial constraints, resilient Indian entrepreneurs rose. Jamsetji Tata and the Tata Group became symbols of industrial vision, while the Parsee community powered many pioneering firms. The famed shipbuilding industry of South India, for instance, created vital trade routes and industrial know-how.

After independence, family-run businesses like the Birla Group and Reliance Industries redefined India’s corporate landscape. Rooted in trust, intergenerational wealth, and community ties, they helped build a self-reliant economy. Even today, traditional sectors — Coorg coffee plantations, Rajasthan carpets, Surat diamonds — thrive as symbols of craftsmanship, continuity, and collaboration.

India now has over 6 crore MSMEs, many profitable and innovative, yet seldom seen in campus placements. These enterprises are the backbone of our economy, generating jobs and nurturing local talent. Universities must bridge this gap — invite these businesses to campuses, showcase their success stories, and offer students exposure beyond multinational giants.

Reviving pride in these business traditions is crucial. Today’s startup-driven youth often overlook the power of trust-based, community-rooted models that sustained India for centuries. Innovation isn’t always about starting from scratch — it can mean reimagining time-tested models that built lasting wealth and resilience.

If academia can teach students about these legacies, it can spark informed pride and inspire them to build on our heritage. By looking inward and learning from India’s own business traditions, young entrepreneurs can blend modern innovation with the timeless values that once made India a global trading powerhouse.

Adding fresh paint to the freshman year –

 

 Adding fresh paint to the freshman year –

Some random thoughts on reforming first year engineering curriculum

 

Recently there has been some discussion in my institute on reforms in undergrad curriculum.

I don’t know about the later years, but there are a few things I was thinking that can be inserted in the first-year curriculum.

 

During my days at IIT Madras (in the late 80’s), in the first year, we had something called “workshop”, an elaborate mind-numbing, body-breaking form of drudgery.

For example, we had classes on carpentry where we were taught how to make a cuboid out of a piece of wood! Why cant get out of these dress rehearsals and thrust the young student into the full-blown, magical world of woodworking? They can be taught, for example, how to build treehouses. We can take advantage of the forest around us (*) and build lovely tree houses on our large and accommodating banyans! The kids can easily turn this skill into startups later.

https://nelsontreehouse.com/blog/a-slice-of-pnw-paradise-nelson-treehouse/

 

*IIT Madras campus is built literally inside a forest.

 

Ive read somewhere that German artist Albrecht Durer of high renaissance era had mastered the art of woodcuts, while his contemporaries busied themselves with painting. The advantage of woodcuts is that you can use them to make prints, which Durer exploited and a made a handsome sum for himself! If only some of our inspired undergrads can learn the art of making fine wood carvings, and combine that art with the technology of 3D printing and AI-based design… investors will make a beeline.

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Albrecht-Durer-German-artist

 

Our workshop had a few other things like welding and filing (phew!). I can think only a few other memories that are more traumatic. But our workshop didn’t have cooking. Wish they had! Let me recount an incident.

Once my wife and I were visiting this snazzy hotel on the outskirts of Chennai. Although the menu was long and fancy, we wanted to order something plain and simple. We asked for some saambaar saadam (sambar rice) and tair saadam (curd rice). What was served to us then were the most delectable bowls of the two dishes, dishes that were otherwise considered the most commonplace and  rather dull in south Indian cuisine. We wanted to meet the chef who could transform such routine dishes into something so adorable. The chef turned out to be young girl in her early 20s. She spoke of her struggles to convince her parents to let her take up this career that is so close to her heart.

That day I realised one thing. Someone who can turn out such incredible dishes doesn’t have just a skill for livelihood. They have a dangerous and enviable power over the minds of men!

 

One can go on and on. The list is rather long. Dancing, acting, film-making, reading and writing fiction, turning trash into artwork, origami, gardening, floral arrangements… just think about someone who knows how to make perfect floral arrangements. A boy who can do it will have girls standing in queue, and a girl who can do it will unleash an untold confusion in the society of boys – because they will be hard pressed to choose between the lotus of her face and the bouquet in her hand!

 

So why cant we add some color to the freshman curriculum?

Talking of color… brings to my mind another anecdote. My wife and I waited for hours in the rain before we could gain entry into Muse’e D’Orsay in Paris. I liked this one better than the more famous Louvre. There are galleries and galleries of paintings… but this particular one really got me. It’s titled “The Woman with a Parasol” by impressionist artist Monet. It portrays a lady in a long white dress holding an umbrella. A pale blue sky was looming over her. She stood there calm and royal,  as  if held in a passionate embrace by the light. And I stood there with my mouth wide open and eyes unblinking. I even forgot that my wife who was around somewhere wouldn’t appreciate such unbridled gaping! How do these people hold you still in your tracks, make you completely oblivious of your surroundings, with a display of a few sloshes of color?

https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.61379.html

 

Life is all about having enriching and fulfilling experiences. Why cant we give to our freshmen not just information, dull and dead, but inspiration that will propel them for life? Why should engineering curricula be all about serious and solemn “problem solving”? How about replacing, just for a brief year, the “problem solving” with a “riot of creativity” or a “flood of inspiration” or “thoughts that can run on a thousand tracks all at once”?

It will give the freshies certainly a career, but more importantly a life filled with magic, beauty and undying delight.

 

Regards

Srini

 

 

 

Garden cities of India (?)

Ebenezer Howard, an urban planner from late 19^th century UK was quite unhappy with the filthy cities and towns of the newly industrializing Britain.  

Ebenezer Howard (1850-1928)

Howard saw a deep dichotomy between the cities and the countryside. Cities offer opportunities for work, but are filthy and unliveable. The countryside is obviously beautiful and nice to live in but offers no jobs.  Ebenezer Howard conceived of a city that combines the merits of the two, which led to the Garden City movement.

He described the above three aspects urban attraction as “three magnets.” The first is the “town magnet” that attracts with its job opportunity. The second is the “country magnet” that attracts with its greenery and opportunity for a comfortable and healthy living. The third is new “town-country magnet” that represents a combination of the other two magnets.

The Three Magnets

The Garden Cities are “ self-contained communities [that] are surrounded by "greenbelts", containing proportionate areas of residences, industry, and agriculture.” (Wiki)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Garden_city_movement

In the original plan laid out by Ebenezer Howard, there is a central city of about 58,000 population spread out over an area of 12,000 acres. Around this there are 6 satellite cities connected to the central city by rail and road. The open space between the central city and the satellites is  a green belt.

The entire network of cities (1 central + 6 satellites) will have a population of 2,50,000 over an area of 66,000 acres.

Once the limit of the population is reached, Howard suggests that is time to build a new city.

66,000 acres = 267.09 sq km.

Therefore, if you do a simple calculation, the above city will have a population density of

Population density = 250,000/267.09 = 936 /sq km

which is more than twice the population density of India.

The current population density of India is 460/sqkm

That is, even we pack the entire population of India in garden cities, we will still be occupying only half the land of the country.

But perhaps such a calculation is too naïve. If the half the area of a country is inhabited where do you have farmlands that produce food? How do you accommodate mountains, rivers and other geographical features where habitation is either impossible or impractical?

Furthermore, there is one recurrent complaint against the garden city approach to urban planning. 

The influence of garden city approach can be seen in the planning of a lot of world cities. It led to the division of the city into a crowded and busy business center (the downtown) and   a suburban area with a lot of greenery. People live in the suburbs in spacious homes and commute to the city center for work every day. This created the infamous “urban sprawl” and an unsustainable model of city building.

But the point that is exactly what Howard was arguing against in his garden city model. To me it looks like the “suburb” approach to city building is not a realization of the spirit of urban planning promoted by Howard. It simply tried to bring the village closer to the city and renamed it the “suburb.”

Howard’s vision of a garden city is more organic, cellular and therefore closer to the Nature. In the biological world, every organism is made of fundamental building blocks called the cells. An individual cell does not grow in size indefinitely. As a cell grows and ages to a point of maturity, it divides into nearly identical cells.

A dividing Cell


 A single cell does not grow into a giant central cell surrounded by a bunch of peripheral cells.

But that’s exactly how a lot of modern cities seem to grow.

See this article about how the city of Chennai is planned and developed:

https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/chennai/the-tough-business-of-building-a-city/article31071614.ece

“Chennai’s planners have always imagined and conventionally planned the city: a stable city core that is expanding outward. Their plans are based on separating the city as core and periphery, where the core is the all-important epicentre, and the peripheries are thought of as spillover spaces.”

But where exactly is that “all-important epicentre” of Chennai, one wonders.  The downtowns of great world cities are filled with skyscrapers that amplify the land area by efficient use of 3D space, creating an enormous carrying capacity, with modern the infrastructure to support a high population density. Unfortunately, Chennai (26,500 /sqkm) has nearly the same higher population density as Manhattan (25,800 /sqkm), while the infrastructures of the two cities are hardly comparable.

Why are our cities allowed to reach such abominably high population densities without a commensurate growth in the infrastructure? The problem seems to arise from the special brand of urban planning – or the lack thereof – that is practiced in India. (See the extremely well-researched chapter on Urban Planning in India in Ankur Bisen’s recent book “Wasted”).

https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/chennai/the-tough-business-of-building-a-city/article31071614.ece

The same  article on Chennai further goes on to say that instead of core-periphery model one must identify the “multi-centers” in the so-called periphery and develop them as independent entities. Apparently Dutch city planners use such a philosophy of urban planning – not “inside-out” but “outside-in” planning.

If you think about it, that’s exactly the spirit of the garden city. Let each city be developed as a self-contained unit with different zones for business, manufacturing, education, residence etc. The zones will be swaddled in a rich greenbelt giving the city the look and feel of the country. Once the city grows to a certain size in population, further development will be prevented, and a new city will burgeon at a certain distance from the original city, always ensuring the existence of a green buffer zone between two adjacent cities.

But one problem is, if we take the garden city approach for Indian cities, we will have to turn half the land into an inhabited area, which may not be acceptable, because as per the original conception garden cities have less than 1000 people per sqkm.  What then is an acceptable population density for a city?  If we take the example of Amsterdam, and London, both well-planned cities, with population densities of about 4,500 /sqkm, much higher than 936/sqkm.

 
Therefore, if can build garden cities with densities of about 4,500/sqkm, which is 10 times the current population density of India, we will still be inhabiting  only a tenth of the land area, leaving the rest of the land to the Nature.

The population of India is thought to reach its maximum of about 1.6 billion by  about 2060. By that time our imaginary green cities will only have a population densities of about 5,600/sqkm.

Can’t help fantasizing a future India where there are no more filthy, crowded cities and towns. The entire peninsula is filled with green and glorious garden cities as shown in the figure below.



Garden Cities of a Future India