On a cool Bangalore morning in 2003, educationalists, scientists, policymakers and a host of other academics congregated in the JN Tata Auditorium to hear a series of lectures. Housed within the IISc’s stunning campus, the hall could accommodate about 900 people. It was barely half full as Ramji Raghavan took to the podium.
People of varying eminence were set to speak that day and the audience thinned and swelled in accordance with the same. Having been invited to speak at the annual Rotary Governor’s Meet, Ramji now looked unsure. The sparsely populated room stared back at him, the expressions of the audience a mingling of scepticism and a lack of recognition. Seated in the front row was KV Raghavan, whose presence gave Ramji a much-needed boost in confidence.
As he began his talk, some members of the audience continued conversing among themselves, as is sometimes the case when an unknown speaker tries to command a crowd. Ramji Raghavan is not a large man, and his manner is generally unassuming. However, his unequivocal command over the English language is something that others take notice of nearly instantly. He has a polished accent that can be characterised as neither Indian nor British. He speaks at a calm, measured pace and places great importance on enunciation and the use of vivid imagery to engage anyone he converses with.
Despite the murmurs in the crowd, Ramji’s opening words cut through the conversational undercurrent and people paused momentarily to focus on the podium.
Ramji’s speech was specifically on education in India. Rather than put Indian education down, he decided instead to first chalk a rich history of India’s accomplishments across various fields of study. For the next half an hour, he spoke about Aryabhata and the invention of the zero and of Srinivasan Ramanujan and his brand of mathematical genius, which the world still struggles to comprehend. He brought up CV Raman and SN Bose and their invaluable contributions to physics. He addressed Chanakya and his treatise on political strategy, which was used to catapult the Maurya dynasty into power. He described the achievements of Ayurveda and India’s astounding contributions to healthcare, where surgical procedures – including plastic surgery – were being conducted as early as the 7th century BCE. He discussed astronomy, metallurgy, music and architecture, and described how India was, at one time, a pioneer in virtually every one of these fields. He recognized Nalanda and Takshashila, India’s key seats of learning in ancient times, revered the world over for the exemplary individuals who taught and studied there. He extolled Gandhi’s period in South Africa and Sardar Patel’s tackling of the floods in Gujarat. He echoed Patel’s response at being asked to pen India’s history: “We do not write history, we make history.”
At the core of it all, Ramji explained, were creativity and innovation. India had, at one time, built a civilization of insatiable curiosity that led it to relentlessly seek answers to everything around it. This was why, at its peak, India was considered a global superpower long before that phrase was even formally adopted or properly understood.
Sitting in the audience, you could sense each member swelling with pride. A few got up and left but returned to the hall shortly with more people in tow. The room was filling up as some stood in the aisles and along the sides of the auditorium, all enrapt at the speech, which wove a rich and intricate tapestry of India’s greatest achievements.
Then, after luring the room into a sense of security, Ramji asked them to consider where India presently found itself. Was curiosity still being nurtured in young minds? Was an education based on marks alone churning out any more CV Ramans and Ramanujans? Did the audience truly believe that India’s school system was doing justice to the centuries of excellence that preceded it?
Finally, Ramji talked about the importance of a return to cause–effect thinking; the need for energy, enthusiasm and passion; and the indispensability of quality in both thought and action.
He then described Agastya. He laid out its mission to reverse the apathy within education and release the potential of several untapped millions. He expressed unfettered hope that hands-on education could reignite curiosity and take India back to its former status as a cradle of global innovation.
It was a bit of a gamble to use the audience’s patriotism to lift them high, only to let them come crashing down with a harsh prick of reality. For a moment, the room was quiet as pride morphed into pensive reflection.
Then a gentleman stood up. He appeared confrontational at first and it seemed he might accuse Ramji of being anti-national. Instead, he smiled and complimented Ramji on a wonderful speech, saying that it had given him much pause for thought. Another gentleman stood up and seconded this sentiment. Then a third stood up and shouted, “Sir! Everything you said is true. But you really made me proud to be an Indian!” The room erupted in agreement as Ramji was given a standing ovation that refused to die down quickly.
Although Ramji had hoped his talk would offer some much-needed exposure to Agastya in the right circles, he never expected his brand to explode in the manner it did that day. The speech at the J.N. Tata Auditorium instantly took Agastya’s name to the kinds of scientists and thought leaders that it needed to connect with. It paved the way for the foundation to create the right introductions in both the private and the government sectors. Agastya would use these to delve deeper into the world of academia, which would become an essential support structure in the years to come.
Excerpted with permission from The Moving of Mountains: The Remarkable Story of the Agastya International Foundation, Adhirath Sethi, Penguin Enterprise.
