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By:

Anil D. Salve

21 March 2026 at 8:11:09 pm

A Drought of Wisdom in an Ocean of Information

We live in an age where information is everywhere. With a single click, we can access news from across the world, thousands of opinions, countless videos and endless claims. Knowledge has never been so accessible. Yet, in this overwhelming flow of information, something increasingly scarce is discernment-the ability to distinguish what deserves our belief from what deserves our doubt. Information and knowledge are not the same. Reading, watching or hearing something does not automatically...

A Drought of Wisdom in an Ocean of Information

We live in an age where information is everywhere. With a single click, we can access news from across the world, thousands of opinions, countless videos and endless claims. Knowledge has never been so accessible. Yet, in this overwhelming flow of information, something increasingly scarce is discernment-the ability to distinguish what deserves our belief from what deserves our doubt. Information and knowledge are not the same. Reading, watching or hearing something does not automatically make it true. We need the ability to verify information, understand its context, recognise its purpose and only then form an opinion. In the digital age, this ability has become one of the most important forms of wisdom. Social media has transformed the way information travels. WhatsApp, Instagram, Facebook and other platforms have made communication faster, wider and more accessible. But the same speed that connects society can also overwhelm it. Information often reaches us before facts do. A headline is read before the full story. A short video is watched without knowing what happened before or after it. A photograph is circulated without its original context. A message arrives with the familiar words, “Forwarded as received,” and within minutes it may reach thousands of people. By the time the truth catches up, the rumour may already have done its work. The problem becomes even more serious when misinformation is deliberately created and circulated. Rumours may be planted not merely to mislead individuals but to divert public attention from an important issue, create suspicion, damage someone's reputation or push society towards a particular narrative. A distraction does not always need to be completely false. Sometimes a small piece of truth is mixed with exaggeration, selective facts or emotional language. The result can be more powerful than an outright lie because it appears believable. This is how narratives are manufactured. Social media platforms can become powerful tools in this process. A repeated claim begins to look familiar, and familiarity is often mistaken for truth. A provocative post attracts attention. Thousands of reactions create the impression that “everyone” believes it. One emotional video triggers another, comments intensify the mood, and before facts have an opportunity to speak, public sentiment may have already shifted. This is where mob psychology enters the picture. A society can move from calm to anger, suspicion to trust, or optimism to fear with surprising speed. People who would ordinarily think carefully may react differently when they see thousands of others expressing outrage, fear or hostility. The individual begins to follow the crowd, and the crowd begins to reinforce the individual. The danger is not limited to negative emotions. The same mechanism can also be used positively-to mobilise people for social causes, humanitarian assistance, disaster relief, public awareness and community action. Technology itself is neither wise nor foolish. Its impact depends on how information is created, amplified and consumed. The greatest danger, therefore, is not that we have too much information. It is that we may lose the habit of thinking while consuming it. We are increasingly becoming consumers of information rather than creators of thought. Everyone has access to information today, but access does not necessarily mean understanding. The boundaries between a rumour and a report, an opinion and a fact, popularity and truth are becoming increasingly blurred. A post does not become true because thousands of people have liked it. A video does not become evidence merely because it has gone viral. An opinion does not become a fact because it is expressed confidently. An idea does not become correct simply because it confirms what we already believe. This last point deserves particular attention. We often accept information not because it is accurate, but because it is comfortable. We are naturally attracted to information that confirms our existing beliefs and suspicious of information that challenges them. In the digital world, this tendency can be amplified by algorithms that repeatedly expose us to content similar to what we have already watched, liked or shared. Gradually, we may find ourselves living inside an information bubble where we hear many voices-but mostly voices that agree with us. That is not diversity of information. It is an illusion of certainty. Discernment does not mean doubting everything. It means thinking before believing. It means asking simple but powerful questions: Who is saying this? What is the evidence? What is the context? What may be missing? Who benefits if I believe it? And have I heard the other side? These questions may take only a few seconds, but they can prevent hours, days or even years of misunderstanding. This responsibility is particularly important for the younger generation. Children today are growing up in an environment of unprecedented information exposure. They can encounter more information in a few hours than earlier generations might have encountered in weeks. Therefore, education cannot merely teach students how to collect, remember and reproduce information. It must teach them how to question, verify, analyse and interpret it. A student who can write the correct answer in an examination may be academically successful. But a student who knows how to ask the right question is better prepared for life. The classroom of the future must therefore produce not merely informed students, but thinking citizens. They must learn that forwarding a message is also a form of responsibility. Sharing a post is not an innocent act when it can affect someone's reputation, create public fear or influence social behaviour. The challenge becomes even greater in the age of Artificial Intelligence. AI can generate information, images, audio and video with extraordinary speed and sophistication. The distinction between what is real and what merely appears real may become increasingly difficult. In such a world, human judgment becomes more valuable, not less. Technology can produce an answer in seconds. It cannot automatically tell us whether that answer deserves our trust. Some answers require experience. Some require context. Many require the ability to think independently. We have more information, more technology and more connectivity than any previous generation. Yet our real challenge is to preserve something technology cannot manufacture for us: the capacity to think for ourselves. The ocean of information will only become larger. The question will no longer be, “How much information do we have?” The more important questions will be: What should we accept? What should we question? What should we verify? And what should we reject? No technology can completely answer these questions for us. No number of likes can substitute for evidence. No viral trend can replace judgment. No majority can turn misinformation into truth. That responsibility belongs to human beings. Information can tell us what happened. Discernment helps us understand what it means, why it happened, what may be missing from the story and how we should respond. Perhaps, therefore, the greatest educational challenge of our time is not to teach people how to find more information. They already know how to do that. The greater challenge is to teach them how to pause-to pause before believing, to pause before reacting, to pause before forwarding and to pause before joining the crowd. Because sometimes the most intelligent response to information is not an immediate reaction, but a moment of reflection. The ocean is already around us. It is growing deeper every day. What we need now is not more information to swim through it-but the wisdom to know which direction to take. (The writer is the Principal of Podar International School, Ausa, Latur. Views personal.)

Degrees Without Destiny: The Great Indian Placement Illusion

Apr 23
5 min read

As IT hiring collapses, India’s universities stand exposed as assembly lines for jobs that no longer exist.

Consider three names. Google. Facebook. Dell. Each of them was built inside a college dormitory. Google was a doctoral project at Stanford in 1996; its parent company is today worth over three trillion dollars. Facebook was a side experiment in a Harvard dorm in 2004; it now reaches half the planet. Dell began in a University of Texas dormitory in 1984, assembled by a nineteen-year-old pre-medical student with a thousand dollars of family money; the company is worth nearly ninety billion dollars today.


The list extends further. Microsoft traces its origins to Bill Gates's years at Harvard. Snapchat was a product-design class assignment at Stanford. Yahoo emerged from a Stanford dormitory. FedEx was first described in a term paper at Yale, where the professor famously gave it an average grade. Nike was conceived in a Stanford MBA classroom, where Phil Knight turned a small-business course assignment into a running-shoe company that now sits among the world's most valuable brands. Hewlett-Packard was founded by two Stanford graduates and seeded by their own professor, Frederick Terman, who personally lent them the money to begin.


Each of these companies was launched by a student, inside a university that understood its role extended well beyond teaching, into incubating.


Name a single Indian college that has produced a globally significant, billion-dollar enterprise from its own campus, built while its founders were still enrolled there. This ought to trouble every Indian vice-chancellor.


India’s best-known startups like Flipkart, Ola and Zomato were founded by IIT alumni. Each became a company years after its founders had left campus, financed by external venture capital and built entirely outside the institutional ecosystem that had trained them.


India has never developed what America has taken sixty years to perfect: a university culture in which students build companies on campus, with campus capital, campus mentorship and campus infrastructure; where professors do not merely teach theory but back the best student ideas; where institutions take equity, accept risk and celebrate the founder alongside the topper.

 

Economic Emergency

In financial year 2021-22, India's top five IT services companies together hired roughly 1.8 lakh freshers. TCS alone onboarded close to one lakh, the highest single-year fresher intake by any IT services firm in India's history. Across the sector, nearly six lakh young graduates found employment in a single year.


This year, TCS has announced 25,000 fresher offers - a decline of seventy-five per cent from its peak. Industry-wide fresher hiring in FY24 collapsed to about sixty thousand, a ninety per cent fall from FY22. Wipro has reduced headcount by over 25,000 in two years. Infosys has shed more than 12,000. Entry-level recruitment now accounts for just fifteen per cent of total demand, a category that once formed the backbone of the industry.


This is not a cyclical correction but a permanent restructuring. AI is handling the routine work while global clients are consolidating vendors. And the Indian IT industry, which for three decades served as the employer of last resort for the Indian graduate, is quietly closing that door. Our education system was built to feed that industry. But that industry has stopped asking for seconds.


The American response to a similar question, half a century ago, was not to wait for industry to generate jobs. It was to build its own engine of enterprise inside its universities. Stanford alone has produced companies whose combined market value exceeds the GDP of most nations, not because its students were more gifted than ours, but because its campuses were architected as factories of enterprise rather than factories of employees.


The Stanford Technology Licensing Office opened in 1970. It existed for a single purpose: to help faculty and students turn research into companies. The university took equity in those companies rather than charging licensing fees. StartX, its student accelerator, has seeded over a thousand ventures. Faculty were not just permitted to consult for industry, they were expected to, because the theory and the practice were meant to feed each other. The professor who lent William Hewlett and David Packard money was not an exception. He was a template.


Lingering Deficit

While India undoubtedly has the talent, what it has never built is the architecture. Our IITs rank respectably in global listings. Our teenagers routinely win international olympiads. Yet one cannot name a single Indian campus that can claim, with confidence, to have birthed a world-changing company within its walls while its founders were still enrolled. That deficit must now be closed, and closed quickly.


Every Indian university must house a functioning incubation laboratory on campus. Not a ceremonial room behind a signboard, but a funded, staffed and operational facility in which students begin building products from their first year. Seed capital must come from the college itself, from industry partners and from alumni. Real entrepreneurs must mentor. Academic credit must flow to companies built, not only to examinations cleared.


Consider the arithmetic. If a mid-sized private engineering college with ten thousand students committed just one per cent of its annual fee revenue to an internal seed fund, it would have enough capital to back thirty student startups a year with five lakh rupees each. One in thirty might become meaningful. One in three hundred might become transformative. One in three thousand might become the company that rewrites that college’s history, and India’s.


No college in India is doing this arithmetic even though every college should be. Colleges should take equity stakes in the student companies that emerge from these incubators. That single shift would transform how an institution sees its own students: no longer as fee-paying units awaiting placement, but as the future wealth of the institution itself. Harvard University's endowment, worth over fifty billion dollars, is built in no small part on the wealth created by its own former students. An Indian college that holds even a small stake in a handful of its graduates’ companies could, within a decade, transform its own financial future and its research capacity.


Launchpads, not Placement Agencies

The most celebrated graduate of an Indian college should no longer be the one who cleared the highest placement package. It should be the one who no longer needed a placement at all.


Back then to Google, Facebook and Dell. None of them has an Indian equivalent, because India built its higher education to produce workers for someone else’s economy and that economy is no longer hiring at volume.


The next Google can emerge from an Indian campus. But only if Indian colleges decide to stop functioning as placement agencies and start functioning as launchpads.


Our universities today stand for the safety of syllabi. The world has moved. Our colleges must move with it, or be left explaining, to a generation that deserved better, why the door they were promised was already closed before they reached it.


(The writer is a strategy and transformation leader with experience across IT and ITES industries. He writes on technology and the future of work. He can be reached out at  abhisheknjain5@gmail.com. Views personal.)

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