It is emphatically said that knowledge is power. It is also held that knowledge is virtue. And Indian metaphysics, in its last reaches, proclaims that knowledge is bliss. Now, does education mean acquisition of knowledge? Any sensible person would not deny that it is so. And what is the condition of the educated man of the world today? Has he power? Is he virtuous? Is he blissful? We would, on an enquiry, discover that our men of knowledge are not really men of power. They need not necessarily be virtuous persons, too. And bliss, of course, is far from their reach. If education is the process of the acquisition of knowledge, that is, if education is the same as knowledge, and if knowledge is defined in the above-mentioned manner, how is it that there is a gulf between education and its expected fruits? We find that the men of power are either the political leaders or the possessors of enormous wealth. The men of virtue are generally materially poor, whether this poverty is voluntarily embraced in the case of some or forced upon by circumstances as in the case of many. We may call them saints, ascetics, and what not. And these are not people who wield any kind of power in human society, at least in the sense power is usually understood in common parlance. Many of the good people are those who are harassed by outward conditions, the apathy of society and the ignorance of the public, all which would not endow a virtuous person with power that can be exercised in any manner. And who are the happy people, or those who enjoy bliss within themselves? Perhaps no one can lay claim to this coveted position. It is useless to say that some men are contented and happy and that they themselves accept this fact. On a scrutiny it would be found that it is not true. Here it is immaterial whether one is unhappy due to the irony of Providence, the injustice that is prevalent outside or the sorrow brought about by the feeling for unachieved ends in life. Whatever the reason be, the fact remains the same.

All this, in conclusion, would show that a serious catastrophe has befallen the educational process unless we are prepared to decide that education is not knowledge and that the educational process is not the way to its acquisition. But to hold that knowledge can be had by any means other than education would be to go at a tangent. For, how else can anyone acquire knowledge?

The predominant view is that knowledge is a means to an end. In the case of some, this end is economic welfare and gaining of wealth in the form of money, particularly, or power in society. This is the reason why educationally qualified persons seek employments in institutes, organisations, firms, the government, etc. This ‘end’ which is in view clubs within itself a subtle notion of a simultaneous acquisition of prestige and authority in society. A person in some socially valued employment would at the same time be regarded as a ‘valuable’ person, whether the nature of this value is clear to anyone’s mind or not. Why should an employed person be a person of prestige and dignity? The notion is very vague. Evidently, there is, underlying it, a feeling that such a person can be utilised as a ‘means’ to some other ‘ends’ covertly creeping within the minds of people. Also, prestige itself is something very nebulous and cannot stand scrutiny. It cannot stand scrutiny because it is a form of the vanity characteristic of the ego of man, whose constitution itself cannot bear scrutiny. Self-esteem is at the background of the notion of the general form of esteem which goes by the name of prestige. And this is one of the ‘ends’ sought through knowledge by education.

Why does one wish to be educated? Why is education valued? If we go to the root of the matter in answering these posers, we are caught up in a jigsaw puzzle, a vicious circle or, perhaps, we find ourselves in a fool’s paradise. We seem to be seeking something without knowing what it is, and what for it is sought. Are we merely following the herd-instinct, the emotion of the mob, or the gregarious urge which has no rational foundation behind it? Are we in a position to find a little time and leisure to delve deep into this most interesting Subject for our consideration?

Before we attempt a reasonably satisfactory answer to this problem, we may do well to place before ourselves the woe which the great savant Narada represented in the presence of the mighty Sanatkumara, as we have it stated in the Seventh Section of the Chhandogya Upanishad:

“O Sire, please teach me!”—with this request Narada came to Sanatkumara. And to him, Sanatkumara replied: “Tell me what you already know; then I shall speak to you further.” Narada recounted his vast learning when he said, “Great One! I have mastered the Rig-Veda, the Yajur-Veda, the Sama-Veda, the Atharva-Veda, Ancient History and Religion, Grammar, the Art of propitiating the departed ones, Mathematics, Divination and Augury, Chronology, Logic, Polity, the Science of the Celestials, the Science of the Sacred Knowledge of the Supernatural Realms, Demonology and Physical Science, the Science of Political Administration and Militarism, Astronomy and Astrology, the Science of Snake-charming, and all the Fine Arts. Sire, I know all these.

“Such a one am I, O Noble One, knowing all these Arts and Sciences, I know not the Truth! It has been heard by me from those who are like you, O Great One, that he who knows the Truth crosses over sorrow. Such a sorrowing one am I, O Noble One! Condescend, O Sire, to teach me, who am such a sorrowing one, to cross over to the other side of sorrow.”

And to him, the great Sanatkumara replied: “Verily, whatever you have learnt is indeed mere words, only name.”

But, how are all these learnings, all these Arts and Sciences, to be regarded as a matter of words, a mere name? Is there any explanation? Perhaps, here, we have some hint at the solution of the sorrow of mankind.