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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.)

Married to the Army First!

Writer: Brigadier AS Ranade, VSM (Retired)
Brigadier AS Ranade, VSM (Retired)
Sep 17, 2025
3 min read

Over the years, she realised we had sworn allegiance to the Olive Greens well before we married our soulmates.

It was the third week of August 1999. Our Assault Team had just returned to Jodhpur by train after three months in the Batalik Sub-Sector of Ladakh during the Kargil Conflict. Since late June, we had been operating independently under an infantry division, detached from our unit, which had been moved to Rajasthan in anticipation of the localised conflict escalating across the International Boundary.


Seeing my wife and little daughter, barely a year and a half, felt surreal. The first televised war in India had clearly taken a toll on my better half, though the relief in her eyes was palpable. She had borne the brunt of the uncertainties wars cast on loved ones, especially with a small child to rear. Our little girl, of course, was bemused to see her father, as her reactions showed.


After freshening up at home, it was time to head to Battalion Headquarters, meet our Commanding Officer (CO), and give him an in-person rundown of operations from late June to the ceasefire on 26 July 1999. First-hand accounts always provide a clearer picture than Situation Reports (SITREPs) sent through military channels. We had been operating in such a remote area that even basic line communication with Battalion Headquarters, nearly 1500 km away, was absent. Today’s briefing to the CO was thus crucial. And since our Assault Team had done the Unit proud, my Second-in-Command, Major Rajesh Sheoran (my right hand through those times), and I were eager to meet the CO and our fellow officers and men at the earliest. It was not about basking in glory; it was about announcing that we had all returned by the grace of Maa Durge Bhawani, heads held high.


Before I left home, my wife told me that she was preparing my favourite “Rajma-Chawal” and she hoped that I would return for a timely meal. I nodded affirmatively as I said goodbye.


After an engrossing interaction with the CO, we met our other comrades. The CO reminded the Adjutant that Major Rajesh Sheoran had not been pipped formally. He was promoted to Major's rank a couple of months ago, but the customary pipping by the CO and Subedar Major could not be done. The adjutant promptly organised it. And as is the tradition, we moved to the Officers' Mess for an impromptu "Pre-Lunch Drinks (PLD)".


The "Band of Brothers" from our unit were together after a long time. As we celebrated Rajesh Sheoran's much-deserved promotion, we also caught up on our individual and collective battle experiences and everything under the sun that had happened since May 1999. The PLD continued into lunchtime. The Dining-in members of the Mess asked the married officers to stay on for lunch. A request that was impossible to turn down. The CO and everyone stayed on, and so did I.


Back then, there were no telephones in our residences. And I did not have the heart to send someone three kilometres from the unit to inform my wife about the unplanned delay in my return. "I will tell her when I get home," I said to myself.


It was 4:30 pm when I reached my residence. She was still waiting for me and had not taken a morsel. For her, this wait was probably as difficult to fathom as the wait when I was far away in the barren Ladakh mountains. She was visibly disappointed since she expected me to keep the date, at least this time.


I did tell her the reason, but I probably could not explain the rationale well. The bonhomie and camaraderie amongst those who go to battle together is to be experienced and understood, but perhaps difficult to explain, I discerned.


Over the years, she realised that we had sworn our allegiance to the Olive Greens well before we got married to our soulmates. We were "Married to the Army First”!!


As time went by, she not only absolved me for not keeping that afternoon date but also remained my pillar of strength and source of inspiration through the rough and tumble of life in the Army till I hung up my boots. She, too, was married to the Olive Greens!!


Post Script: Major Rajesh Sheoran rose to the rank of a Brigadier. With his astounding leadership qualities, positivity, spirited attitude, and heart of gold, he touched so many lives within and outside Uniform. Unfortunately, he left us too soon for his heavenly abode on 10 June 2025 while still in service. He shall always be remembered. Rest in peace, my brother.

(The writer is an Indian Army veteran and Vice President CRM, ANSEC HR services Ltd. He is a skydiver and a specialist in Security and Risk management. Views personal.)

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