-- *Mar*Below is an *edited and improved version* of the essay that stays *faithful to a non-Cartesian, nature-based paradigm*.
I have *not rationalized it into Cartesian academic prose*; instead, I have clarified the language, deepened the experiential flow, reduced reactive tone, and allowed the argument to *grow organically*, as the essay itself advocates. ------------------------------ >From Om to A for Apple *(Revised Edition)* Today, education has been transformed into a lifelong economic addiction. >From the earliest years of schooling, the child is gently but firmly separated from nature. This separation is not accidental; it is built into the very structure of modern education. The child’s inborn mode of understanding—rooted in emotional relating with the living world—is replaced by an abstract, competitive, and utilitarian framework. Once, learning began with *Om*—a sound that arises from silence and connects the child emotionally to the cosmos. Today, learning begins with *“A for Apple”*—a symbol detached from lived experience, presented as information rather than relationship. Instead of playing freely and forming bonds with the living environment, the child is drawn into competition, trained to seek grades, ranks, and badges. Education becomes a refined rat race, dignified by institutional language. Yet, before birth, the child develops through a gradual, intimate unfolding—cell by cell—within the mother’s womb. Each moment of growth strengthens an emotional bond with its surrounding environment. Language itself begins there, as the mother tongue of feeling, rhythm, and resonance. At birth, the child does not leave a womb; it enters a larger one—the womb of *Gaia*. Its natural impulse is to relate, not to analyze; to participate, not to stand apart as a detached observer. This early impulse is evident in the child’s behavior. Surrounded by toys, interest quickly fades. But in the presence of a cat, a dog, a bird, or a tree, attention deepens into connection. What grows is not stimulation, but relationship. True education grows in this way—through emotional bonding with life. Subjects do not stand apart from the learner; they arise from lived contact. Geography is not merely maps and names; it is the felt presence of land, wind, soil, and water. The rays of the sun are not only physical energy but warmth, approval, and vitality. In the shade of living forests, the sun does not burn—it blesses. In open skies, the child encounters the quiet enchantment of rainbows, where color itself becomes a teacher. The visible spectrum, endlessly expressed in nature, forms a crown of learning that no classroom can replace. Here, education happens without force, without syllabus, without examination. Feeling precedes form. Meaning arises before measurement. A child longs to experience nature as an extension of the maternal womb. Growth does not stop at birth; it continues as a living process of attunement. This growth requires an emotion-laden geography—a free and healthy natural world that responds, resonates, and educates simply by being alive. When an elephant is captured, it is broken into obedience by being cut off from its natural bonds. In a similar way, the child is tamed by an education that severs its relationship with the living earth. This Cartesian mode of learning trains the child to stand outside life, to measure, exploit, and compete. From the innocence of childhood, the learner is reshaped into an economic agent who unknowingly destroys the very systems that sustain life. Thus, a growing limb of nature is converted into a fragment struggling against other fragments. It is like one limb of the body attempting to prove superiority over the rest—a tragic misunderstanding of wholeness. Life today is dominated by economic hysteria. Technology, instead of extending our belonging, often amputates our sense of participation in nature. This alienation continues day and night, wearing away our ecological memory. Education, in such a form, does not liberate; it produces modern Basmasuras—beings empowered to consume and destroy themselves. Many leave life not with fulfillment, but with regret. A dying nature cannot offer peace, bliss, or continuity. A world reduced to economic value cannot nurture the soul. The minimum responsibility of every university, therefore, is simple yet profound: to preserve a *Free Nature Park*—a space untouched by human control—where students may learn directly from life. Not as observers, but as participants. Not as managers, but as members. Such a space would not teach lessons; it would restore belonging. And in that restoration, true education would quietly begin again. *— Y. M. Sarma* ------------------------------ If you wish next: - I can *shorten this for publication* - Adapt it into a *manifesto for ecological education* - Or rewrite it in a *more poetic / meditative voice* Just tell me how you’d like to proceed. -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Thatha_Patty" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/thatha_patty/CACDCHCKa8OSG-8dpfPynbmCtwPOZVSfwaQi8K9wwfAbziv%2B1jQ%40mail.gmail.com.
