Nowadays many schools are talking about “Indian knowledge systems”. Invariably, lectures quote Sanskrit texts. That is not a complete picture, because India is a vast and complex country. Sanskrit was a ritual language and a court language and the language of the elite, not the language of the weaver, the potter, the metalsmith, the trader.
Knowledge in India was kept within the caste system, and castes spoke different languages, and hardly anything was documented. India has hundreds of tribes, each with different knowledge of plants and animals and metals. These are ignored by those who privilege Sanskrit texts.
Every caste had its own knowledge system, that was not shared with others. This idea is ancient. Even before the Vedic period, in Harappa, you see the guild seals, gateways and courtyards, indicating separation of communities with unique skills.
It is known that tribal communities do not share knowledge easily; they also prefer endogamy, which is marriage within the community to avoid leakage of knowledge. Caste might have emerged from this tribal system with job specialisation. So, for example, if someone knew how to cast bronze, they would not share the secrets, keeping it within their clan. It gave them a marketing advantage over others. Drona, for eg:, was not pleased with the ‘skill of archery’ was learnt by a non-Kshatriya named Ekalavya. Even Karna was told to restrict himself to the skill of his father, the charioteer.
This is very different from modern systems of education, a post industrial phenomenon, where anyone can go to a school to learn whatever subject one wants. This enabled meritbased social mobility that did not exist in pre-industrial societies.
Earlier, not everyone could become an accountant. You had to be part of a community of accountants. The new education model is (theoretically) for all with merit; the old model was based (theoretically) on family ties, hence nepotism. But of course, there are exceptions as we know in either case. The new education model that seeks to reach out to all communities will always be at odds with the old caste-based model where knowledge was restricted to the community.
The first time we come across a syllabus is from the Chandogya Upanishad, dated to 500 BC. When the sage Sanatakumar asks Narada what subjects he is proficient in, Narada gives the following list—the four Vedas; the fifth Veda (itihasa-purana); the Vedanga (phonetics, etymology, grammar, prosody, geometry, time-keeping, ceremonies); logic; earth science (physics, chemistry, biology) knowledge of gods (deva), ancestors (pitr), serpents (sarpa), stars (jyotisha).
It is then that Sanatkumar points out that his long list does not include “brahma-vidya” and so Narada’s knowledge is superficial, like memorisation, lacking understanding and assimilation, preventing application.
Knowledge of self
What is this ‘Brahma Vidya’? We can always make this sound exotic. It simply means “knowledge of who we truly are”. No modern school teaches us about how to identify and regulate our jealousy, pride, anger, hatred. Without this the world cannot be a happy place.
Modern education focuses on science and technology alone. Even those who focus on ancient Indian knowledge system are obsessed with mathematics and engineering skills and do not realise the importance of ‘Brahma Vidya’.
The value of ‘knowledge of self’ is explicitly presented in the Ramayana, written a few centuries after Chandogya Upanishad. Here Ravana and Hanuman are compared. Both are Sanskrit scholars, and yet, everyone is clear about Ravana being a Brahmin. Hanuman, on the other hand, we don’t know.
We see Hanuman wearing a janeu (sacred thread) in statues built in the 21st century. But in medieval South Indian art, he is shown with a bell on his feet or tail, suggesting he was seen as an outcast (Dalit, as many politicians have claimed during election time). The bell announced the presence of the ‘low’ caste person, so people of ‘high’ caste could step away from the ‘pollution’.
You now see this ambiguity in Hanuman, who knows Sanskrit, and Valmiki is very cleverly introducing these two ideas. He does not give you the solution. He asks you to figure out the solution. This is how knowledge works in India. You give people the puzzle and make them solve it.
Needling further, we must look at traditional communities like those of the Devadasis. Why were they wiped out? If we bring knowledge outside of the caste communities do we destroy communities, the way Bharatanatyam did? We must not only talk of spiritual traditions when we speak of Indian knowledge systems. What about the 64 arts? What about Kama shastra?
Yes, India came up with a lot of ideas, in science and mathematics, but not everything. The obsession with the guru, who cannot be challenged, was a major stumbling block to growth of knowledge.
Yajuir Veda begins with the challenge of the guru — Vaysampayana is challenged by Yajnavalkya, which is what leads to the split of the Yajur Veda into the Krishna and Shweta Yahur Veda. The idea of challenging the guru is implicitly present in our storytelling but is currently downplayed.
Currently, gurus are seen as greater than even gods. Once you accept that the guru knows everything, there never will be growth. Beyond the guru there is more knowledge to be discovered. Only when we must go beyond what the guru teaches, do we move towards infinity.
