Talk on Bhartiya Heritage of Educational Practices @ International Conference on Interpreting Cultures and Traditions: Shifting the Lenses

                                                                            Talk on

Indian Knowledge System:
Bhartiya Heritage of Educational Practices
 & Relevance in Contemporary Society 
@
International Conference on

Interpreting Cultures and Traditions:  Shifting the Lenses
RIWATCH, Arunachal Pradesh 
19-21 December 2025

I feel honoured to speak today as a plenary speaker at this international conference, Interpreting Cultures and Traditions – Shifting the Lenses, on Indian Knowledge Systems, especially traditional modes of knowledge transmission and their relevance in contemporary society.

This session on Bharatiya Heritage of Educational Practices is being organised here at the RIWATCH campus. Standing at this podium today, I can recall the journey of RIWATCH—how it has grown step by step, and how it has evolved as an institution capable of hosting an international conference of this scale and importance.

I also feel happy and proud to represent Jnana Prabodhini on this platform. Jnana Prabodhini had the opportunity to associate with this meaningful mission with RIWATCH under the guidance of Late Vivek Ponkshe Sir, whom we remember today with deep gratitude and respect.

In my talk today, I will focus on Bharatiya Jñāna Paramparā, or the Indian Knowledge System (IKS), mainly from the educational perspective. I will try add my reflections in the context of North-East India about the topic, based on my limited but sincere experiences during my travels in this region.

Opening the Lens

I would like to begin with a simple activity to help us shift our way of looking at Indian knowledge Heritage.

Please look at any picture on the screen. I request you to observe the picture quietly for a moment and try to identify what you see.

As you look at the images, imagine that you are living in ancient Bharat and that you have been appointed as a project officer responsible for the construction of this heritage monument. Try to write a few questions that would help you work effectively in this role. What kind of information would you need before starting the construction?

Let us discuss this with reference to the Lothal Dockyard. Before any stone is laid for such a monument, what questions would naturally arise in your mind?

You may begin to notice the nearby river, the overall shape of the dock, the materials used, and the entry and exit channels for water and ships. You may ask questions such as: How deep should the dock be to safely hold ships? How will water levels be managed during tides and floods? What kind of materials will survive continuous contact with water? How should the entry channels be designed so that ships can enter and leave smoothly? How will this dock support trade and the life of the surrounding community?

When we reflect on these questions, we realise that such a structure could not have been created using knowledge from only one field. To build a marvel like the Lothal Dockyard, ancient Indians had to bring together many domains of knowledge—geography, environmental understanding, mathematics, engineering, material science, economics, and social planning.

This shows us that Indian Knowledge System is holistic in nature, where different disciplines worked together, guided by observation, inquiry, and lived experience. Such achievements remind us that Bharat was truly a society of seekers, where knowledge was integrated, purposeful, and deeply connected to life.

Such imagination helps us understand what we really mean by the Indian Knowledge System and how it connects with the conference theme, Interpreting Cultures and Traditions – Shifting the Lenses. The shift we need is not only in content, but in our way of thinking about knowledge itself. Often, our present lens—shaped largely by the current education system, and more specifically by Western models of education—makes us believe that knowledge is modern, written, and limited to formal disciplines.

When we shift this lens, we begin to see Indian Knowledge Systems with pride and faith, not as outdated ideas, but as rich and living traditions that deserve serious study. This shift invites us to reimagine IKS, to become seekers rather than passive receivers, and to research different domains of IKS with sincerity and depth, using authentic sources.

The Bharatiya way of looking at knowledge was holistic, inquiry-based, and deeply connected to life, nature, and society. The purpose behind acquiring knowledge in the Bharatiya tradition and in Western industrial thought is different, and this is exactly why a shift in lens is required. This is why Bharat was a society of seekers, where learning was continuous and purposeful. Shifting the lens today means returning to this spirit of seeking, while engaging with contemporary knowledge in a thoughtful and responsible way.

Indian Knowledge Systems was not limited to Bharat; it travelled from the East to the West in many visible and invisible ways. Even today, we can find traces of this journey in language and daily life. For example, the word tamarind comes from Tamar-e-Hind, meaning “date of India,” a term used in Middle Eastern markets for imli or chinch, which came from India. Such small linguistic indicators show how Indian products and knowledge travelled across regions.

Similarly, story traditions like Panchatantra travelled from Bharat to the West and influenced storytelling across cultures. The numbers we use today also moved from Bharat to the West, changing the way the world calculated and recorded knowledge. Yet, even now, we often refer to them as Arabic numerals, reflecting how a Western lens still shapes our understanding of knowledge history.

In astronomy, Indian scholars had a deep understanding of planetary movements and the measurement of time, much before modern instruments were developed. In mathematics too, India made advanced contributions. These are only glimpses, but they clearly indicate that Bharat was once a vibrant centre of knowledge traditions, from where ideas, methods, and insights flowed outward to the wider world.

The robust tradition of Bharatiya knowledge faced severe disruption over time. First Islamic waves to highlight as in 1193 AD, during invasions led by Bakhtiyar Khilji, great centres of learning such as Nalanda University were destroyed, leading to an irreparable loss of manuscripts, scholars, and learning traditions. This marked a major break in the continuous transmission of knowledge. Later, colonial rule further weakened Indian knowledge systems by replacing them with Western frameworks. As a result, Bharatiya knowledge traditions declined—not due to lack of depth, but due to systematic disruption and changing lenses of evaluation of Indian society.

In the twentieth century, Dharampal made a serious effort to rediscover India’s lost knowledge traditions. He studied British archival records such as the surveys of Sir Thomas Munro in the Madras Presidency (1822–26), William Adam in Bengal and Bihar (1835–38), and G. W. Leitner in Punjab (1880–83). Based on these authentic sources, he wrote books like The Beautiful Tree and Indian Science and Technology in the Eighteenth Century. His purpose was not to glorify the past, but to show how widespread and rooted Indian education, science, and skills were before colonial disruption. Through careful research in British archives, Dharampal helped us see the strength and beauty of the Bharatiya knowledge tree once again.

  

Bharatiya Jñāna Paramparā

Let us now try to understand some key features of Bharatiya Jñāna Paramparā, or Indian Knowledge Systems. One important feature is that it is holistic and interdisciplinary. It does not separate science, ecology, health, philosophy, arts, and ethics, but sees them as connected parts of life. Indian knowledge also has a cyclic understanding of nature, where learning is based on the rhythms of seasons, time, agriculture, and human life. This knowledge tradition is deeply rooted in experience and practice, arising from careful observation, experimentation, and lived traditions passed across generations. Another strong feature is its diversity, where knowledge comes from different regions, communities, and ways of life, not from one central source alone. Bharatiya knowledge is value-centred, giving importance to dharma, sustainability, harmony, and wellbeing. It also includes both scriptural wisdom—from the Vedas and Upanishads—and rich indigenous knowledge, including folk, tribal, and local practices, all of which together form a living and evolving knowledge tradition.

From Indigenous Practices to Knowledge Systems

If we look closely at the North-East and also at many communities across India, we find a shared way of understanding nature through the idea of the Panchamahābhūta—earth, water, fire, air, and space. In the Bharatiya tradition, jal, or water, is not seen merely as a resource to be used or exploited, but as a living part of nature itself. Water is treated as the source of life, deserving respect and care. This is why rivers, ponds, springs, and wells are called Tirtha and worshipped across regions, from the Himalayas to the North-East and down to the southern coasts. Such practices reflect a deep ecological wisdom, where reverence creates responsibility. This way of seeing nature reminds us that sustainability in Bharatiya thought comes not from control over nature or treating nature as resource, but from living in harmony with it.

Bharatiya Jñāna Paramparā is a unique integration of scriptural and indigenous wisdom. It includes the knowledge preserved in the Vedas and Upanishads, along with rich folk, tribal, and local practices. Classical texts provided philosophical foundations, while community traditions translated this wisdom into daily life. Knowledge flowed not only from scholars, but also from farmers, artisans, healers, and forest communities. Together, these streams created a living knowledge system rooted in experience, values, and continuity.

I would like to share one personal experience from my travels. In 2005, I visited a village called Mesulumi, located in a mountain range close to the Myanmar border in Nagaland. One evening, the villagers asked whether I would like to join them for a neight walk. They were going to attend to their agricultural work, and I accompanied them as we walked down the hillside towards the river.

After reaching the riverbank, I saw them set fire to the forest on the slope of the hill across the river. Within a short time, the flames spread rapidly across the hillside. I had read about jhum cultivation in geography textbooks and had even taught this topic to students for examinations. But this was the first time I was witnessing, with my own eyes, how land is prepared for this type of farming.

Naturally, I felt disturbed. As I watched the forest burning, many questions arose in my mind about environmental damage and the destruction of forests. The next day, I spoke to the villagers and shared my concerns about the destruction of the forest.

One of the village elders, a man of deep wisdom, replied very calmly. He explained that jhum cultivation does not destroy forests. According to their traditional system, the village land is divided into twelve sections. Every year, only one section is cleared through controlled burning and used for cultivation. Crops are grown there for three to four years. When the soil fertility starts declining, that land is left unused and cultivation shifts to another section. Over time, natural vegetation grows back on the abandoned land. By the time that section is used again, it has once more become forest. In this way, the balance between agricultural land and forest is carefully maintained.

As our conversation ended, I realised how limited my textbook understanding had been, and how ignorant and biased I had been about local indigenous knowledge.

This experience helped me understand several key aspects of Indian Knowledge Systems. First, jhum cultivation is based on careful observation. Farmers closely observe soil fertility, rainfall patterns, forest regeneration, and biodiversity over long periods of time. Second, it follows a cyclic and sustainable practice, where land moves through phases of cultivation, rest, and natural regeneration, ensuring balance with nature rather than permanent damage. Third, it is governed by strong community systems, where collective rules decide who can clear land, what crops can be grown, and how long the land must rest, reflecting deep social and ecological wisdom. Fourth, spiritual and cultural values are closely integrated, as certain trees, land patches, and natural elements are treated as sacred, and rituals are performed before clearing or burning, showing respect for nature. Finally, this knowledge is transmitted across generations through oral traditions such as stories, songs, and rituals, rather than written manuals. This clearly shows that jhum cultivation is not just a method of farming, but an indigenous system of forest management rooted in Indian Knowledge Systems.

Similarly, during my travels in the Western Ghats and Meghalaya, I visited sacred groves, which are protected forest patches maintained for spiritual, ecological, and cultural reasons. Known as Devrai  in the Western Ghats, and Law Kyntang in Meghalaya, these groves reflect strong principles of sustainability by conserving plants, animals, water sources, and even medicinal gene banks.

I remember visiting Devrai in Tamhini called Vinzai and Vardani, associated with a local goddess. There were beliefs and customs that, in Vardani, women cannot enter the grove or collect any forest products. We need to raise questions about why such customary laws evolved. In the Western Ghats, women normally collect firewood for day-to-day use. If a rule is set as a social belief that restricts entry of women into certain forest areas, it may help to protect the Devrai. Such customs show how traditional societies used beliefs and norms to conserve forests.

   Sacred groves are protected through spiritual beliefs, rituals, and community rules, where cutting trees or disturbing the grove is strictly prohibited. These groves also support traditional health systems like Ayurveda by preserving medicinal plants and ecological knowledge. Overall, sacred groves show how Bharatiya Gyan Parampara encodes the universal principle of living in harmony with nature through community wisdom and cyclic understanding of life.

Lokavidyā: The Original Spring of Knowledge

Like Devrai and jhum cultivation, many such examples of local wisdom can be observed and shared across India. This Lokavidyā, or indigenous knowledge, is held not by institutions alone but by agrarian communities, tribal societies, pastoral and nomadic groups, artisan lineages, fisherfolk, and women elders. It is knowledge that comes from daily life—through farming, craft, healing, food practices, and care of nature. Lokavidyā is experiential, lived, and deeply rooted in local contexts, shaped by collective memory and practice. In many ways, this living Lokavidyā is the original spring of knowledge across India.

From Local Practice to Universal Insight

The Bharatiya Jñāna Paramparā has evolved through three interconnected layers—Lokavidyā, Jñāna, and Sanātana Satya–Śruti. Together, these layers form what we understand today as the Indian Knowledge System, or IKS. This collective evolution shows how knowledge in Bharat moved from lived experience to refined understanding, and finally to universal values.

The first layer is Lokavidyā. This is experiential and lived knowledge found within local communities. It emerges from daily practices such as farming, healing, craft, fishing, and caring for forests and water. Lokavidyā is practical wisdom developed through observation, trial, and collective life over generations. It primarily builds skills and helps communities survive, adapt, and live in harmony with their surroundings.

The second layer is Jñāna. When experiences from Lokavidyā are reflected upon, organised, and refined through disciplined inquiry, analytical thinking, and conceptual clarity, they become Jñāna. This is the stage where knowledge is systematised into theories, methods, texts, and teaching traditions. Jñāna builds structured knowledge and enables deeper understanding beyond immediate practice.

The third layer is Sanātana Satya–Śruti. This represents eternal and universal truths grounded in cosmic order, known as Ṛta, and truth, or Satya. These principles are preserved through Śruti and guide human life with values such as harmony, balance, duty, and wellbeing. This layer builds values, giving direction and purpose to knowledge and action.

In Bharatiya thought, these three layers are not separate or hierarchical in a rigid sense. Lokavidyā builds skills, Jñāna builds knowledge, and Sanātana Satya–Śruti builds values. Together, they form an integrated knowledge system that transforms local insights into universal wisdom—this is the true spirit of the Indian Knowledge System.

From Indigenous Healing to Ayur-Veda

In the Bharatiya Jñāna Paramparā, Ayurveda holds the status of a Veda because it represents a complete and integrated understanding of life, health, and nature. Ayurveda clearly demonstrates how Lokavidyā builds to Jñāna to  Sanātana Satya–Śruti, together forming the Indian Knowledge System.

Long before Ayurveda was systematised into classical texts such as the Charaka Saṁhitā and Suśruta Saṁhitā, communities across Bharat practised indigenous healing traditions. They used herbal medicine, bone-setting, midwifery, seasonal diets, and sacred plant knowledge. This was Lokavidyā—knowledge gained through lived experience and close observation of nature. The Charaka Saṁhitā itself acknowledges this when it says that shepherds, cowherds, hunters, and forest-dwelling communities recognise medicinal plants by their names and forms.

As this practical wisdom was reflected upon and organised, it evolved into Jñāna Parampara. Ayurveda did not remain a collection of remedies; it became a systematic science through disciplined inquiry, observation, and reasoning. The Charaka Saṁhitā describes how sage Punarvasu Ātreya, while moving through forests along the banks of the Ganga, taught his disciple Agniveśa by observing nature directly.

It also states that medicines grown in a person’s own familiar region work best which shows that Ayurveda values regional ecology, local adaptation.

Ayurveda reflects a truly Akhand Bharat  (Pan-Indian) knowledge tradition that brings together the diversity of Akhanda Bharat into one unified system. It classified Bharat into different ecological zones (Deśa) based on climate and geography and identified region-specific medicinal plants. In arid Jāṅgala Deśa, plants like Guggulu, Shatavari, and Khadira were used, while in moist Ānūpa Deśa, herbs such as Brahmi, Punarnava, and Nimba were common. In moderate Sādhāraṇa Deśa, widely found plants like Neem, Ashwagandha, and Guduchi were identified and applied. Arid, marshy, and moderate regions—from Sindh, Punjab, Rajasthan, Gujarat to Assam, Kerala, and the Deccan—each contributed their unique plant knowledge. This regional wisdom was carefully observed, shared, and compiled into a common Ayurvedic framework. In this way, Ayurveda shows how Bharatiya Jñāna Paramparā created unity while fully respecting regional diversity.

Thus, Ayurveda stands as a living example of the Indian Knowledge System. Lokavidyā provides practical skills, Jñāna gives structured understanding, and Sanātana Satya–Śruti offers values and purpose. Together, they synthesise local wisdom into universal insight. This is why Ayurveda is honoured as a Vedic tradition—not only as a medical system, but as a holistic way of understanding life, health, and harmony.

Learning by Living

Building on our earlier discussion, let us now look at the educational aspects of the Bharatiya Indian Knowledge System, that is, the Indian education system.

In Bharat, education evolved from lived experience and oral traditions into organised institutions like gurukuls, monasteries, and later universities, where inquiry, dialogue, and practice were central.

The aim of education was not only to pass on information, but to develop skills, deepen understanding, and nurture values so that learning remained connected to life, society, and ethical responsibility.

Based on the earlier discussion, the Indian education system rooted in Indian Knowledge Systems (IKS) differs significantly from the current education system. IKS-based education is holistic, value-centred, and life-connected, with integrated knowledge and reflective learning, while the current system is subject-fragmented, exam-driven, and outcome-focused. Shifting the lens back to IKS principles can help reimagine education as a more humane, meaningful, and purpose-driven process.

While highlighting the principles of Indian Knowledge Systems in education, and as we speak today about shifting the lenses—of reinterpreting cultures and traditions—I would like to invite you to begin not with theory, but with experience, with Lokavidyā related to educational institutions. During my travels in the North-East, I had observed many indigenous educational practices that are quietly shaping learning within communities. These practices made me reflect on elements of traditional education system can be observed, reflected upon, and thoughtfully adapted to integrate IKS into the current education system, especially in the context of the National Education Policy.

In the last part of this talk, I will share my observations and reflections on unique Living Learning Community Leadership Centres in North-East India. Through these practices, I hope to shift our lens—to look again at traditional systems not as outdated practices, but as rich educational models that can inform and strengthen contemporary education.

In 2005, on the occasion of the 20^th anniversary of Chhatra Prabodhan monthly by Jnana Prabodhini, a North-East India Friendship Campaign was organised. This initiative gave me an opportunity to visit Mizoram. During this visit, in one of the villages, I came across a structure that appeared to be preserved almost like a museum. It was known as the Zawlbuk.

However, at one point in history, the Zawlbuk was not a museum at all. It was an inseparable part of village life, deeply embedded in the social, cultural, leadership, and educational fabric of Mizo society. It functioned as a living institution where young members of the community learned values, skills, discipline, responsibility and leadership through collective living.

The Zawlbuk functioned as a residential learning institution for youth in Mizo society, long before modern schooling or colonial intervention. Education here was not aimed at employment alone, but at shaping character, discipline, courage, and social responsibility through lived experience. Young people received training in self-defence, survival, administration, and ethical values, while also internalising social laws and norms. Similar community-based institutions existed across the North-East, such as the Morung in Nagaland, such comparable traditions are found in Arunachal Pradesh, Manipur, and Meghalaya, reflecting a shared culture of organised learning. Together, these institutions show how indigenous societies created structured, experiential, and value-based education systems to prepare responsible members of society.

At this point, I invite all of us to pause and reflect. After witnessing the Zawlbuk and thinking about its purpose, several fundamental questions arose in my mind—questions that, I believe, lie at the heart of today’s plenary theme.

Why did human societies feel the need to create such thoughtful systems for nurturing human potential?

What kinds of knowledge, skill, and values were considered so essential that they had to be consciously transmitted across generations?

At what point did humanity realise that knowledge cannot be left to chance?

Living together in communities, when did human beings begin to harness the power of collective wisdom?

In essence, when and how did the cultivation of knowledge truly begin, and through what processes and pedagogies did societies develop enduring systems of learning?

These questions mark an important shift in our thinking—from viewing such traditions merely as indigenous or cultural practices, to recognising them as educational systems in their own right. This shift in lens is essential if we truly want to understand Indigenous Education Systems and their relevance in contemporary society.

Such community learning centres, which are now on the verge of extinction, were based on the principle of Learning by Living, not merely learning by doing or learning while doing. They functioned as Living Learning spaces where values, skills, leadership, and responsibility were shaped through daily life. Institutions like the Zawlbuk and Morung, known by different names in different communities, served as community leadership training centres.

Pedagogy: How Learning Happened through Life, Not Classrooms

Let us now discuss the pedagogical methods followed in these community learning centres and understand how learning happened through shared living, observation, participation, and shared responsibility.

Learning in institutions like the Zawlbuk and Morung was deeply experiential learning. Young people learned by directly participating in community life—through hunting, fishing, forest searching, farming, terrace preparation, rice cultivation, bamboo craft, weaving, wood carving, house construction, and tool-making. Participation in festivals and rituals was also a form of learning. Knowledge and skills were mastered through practice and participation, not through lectures or written instruction.

Another important method was apprenticeship-based learning. Elders, who were experts in specific skills, trained the youth in a structured manner. Older boys guided younger boys, and learning took place through observation, imitation, correction, and repeated practice. Along with skills, youth learned ritual practices, leadership qualities, customary laws, dispute solving and social behaviour. This ensured continuity of community knowledge and high quality of skill, knowledge and wisdom transmission across generations.

Oral tradition and storytelling played a central role in education. The fire circle inside the dormitory became a classroom. Elders narrated myths, migration stories, clan histories, war stories, and moral tales. Folk songs, chants, and proverbs were memorised collectively. Through this method, memory, values, ethics, cultural identity, and a sense of belonging were preserved and strengthened.

Learning was also community-based and responsibility-oriented. Youth learned by performing real duties such as night watch, village defence, helping the elderly, participating in community construction, cooking, cleaning, and organising rituals & festivals. Elders and youth worked together, and through this cooperative learning, young people developed responsibility, discipline, cooperation, and leadership.

A strong emphasis was placed on place-based ecological learning. Children learned by closely observing their natural surroundings. They identified plants and animals, understood seasons, wind patterns, rainfall, forest behaviour, and methods of sustainable harvesting. Local ecology became the primary textbook, leading to deep environmental knowledge rooted in lived experience.

Education was also arts-based and multimodal. Learning happened through songs, dance, craft, and performance. Music using log drums and flutes, ornament-making, symbolic tattoos, and body markings were all part of the learning process. This ensured holistic development—cognitive, physical, emotional, and cultural.

Finally, dialogic learning was central to these institutions. Evening discussions between elders and youth focused on customary laws, marriage, inheritance, justice, village governance, conflict resolution, rituals, and social duties. Through dialogue and questioning, youth developed reasoning, judgment, social intelligence, civic understanding, and moral clarity.

Together, these pedagogical methods show that community learning centres were not informal or unstructured. They followed a well-thought-out educational philosophy rooted in Indian Knowledge Systems, where learning was inseparable from Life itself.

RIWATCH works to preserve, promote, and research ancient traditions while supporting ecological sustainability and community-based development. It documents and studies diverse cultural practices, encourages academic research, and helps communities sustain their heritage. Most importantly, RIWATCH wants to ensures that cultural preservation remains a living and participatory process rooted in local communities.

As RIWATCH works closely with local communities, in the last part of my presentation I would like to reflect on how the pedagogical practices we discussed can be meaningfully integrated across schools in Arunachal Pradesh and the wider North-East. These practices offer powerful possibilities for reimagining education through community engagement, experiential learning, and value-based leadership development. Along with schools, indigenous faith societies can work to revive these Living Learning Community Leadership Centres rooted in Indian Knowledge Systems.

Recently, I learned that some communities in Arunachal Pradesh have already started community Gurukuls along these lines.

Shifting the Educational Lens : Community Knowledge in Contemporary Education

Let us now discuss how, with thoughtful insights from the community, shared ideas, and a sense of collective ownership, how such initiatives can evolve into strong IKS-based educational institutions that can contribute meaningfully to contemporary education while remaining deeply rooted in local culture and wisdom.

If we wish to integrate current schooling with Lokavidyā, community based practical learning structures can be imagined.

One important step is to develop school-based community knowledge repositories. Schools can function as local archives that preserve oral histories, songs, rituals, seed varieties, agricultural calendars, craft samples, and traditional practices. This knowledge can be systematically documented through audio and video recordings, digital archives, village knowledge maps like biodiversity register, herbariums, and seed banks. Schools can become custodians of living knowledge, in true sense a Vidyalaya, not just textbooks learning centres.

To evolve community-based learning, we need to strengthen school–community partnerships. Local experts—farmers, artisans, healers, musicians, and elders—can be invited as part-time teachers or resource persons. Seasonal festivals can be meaningfully integrated into the school calendar, and schools can undertake joint research projects with villages, allowing students to learn directly from their social and ecological context.

Language laboratories can also play a crucial role as many languages in Arunachal Pradesh as languages are on the threshold of extinction These spaces can support learning of local languages through storytelling, songs, proverbs, oral narratives, and everyday conversation. Language then becomes not just a medium of instruction, but a carrier of culture, community memory.

Schools can adopt a Participatory Local Curriculum, where parts of the curriculum are created locally. This may include chapters on local history, studies of local ecology and festivals, learning traditional crafts during skill periods, and structured learning of local languages. Such a curriculum can help children learn about their own community and surrounding which is valued in formal education.

A seasonal and ecological school calendar is another powerful way to align education with IKS. Learning can be synchronised with agricultural and ecological rhythms—farming seasons linked with agriculture training, festival seasons with dance and ritual learning, monsoons with storytelling and crafts, and sowing–harvesting cycles with climate and environmental studies. This mirrors indigenous learning rhythms and reconnects education with nature.

Earlier In Maharashtra, school calendar following monsoon calendars, there was diversity in summer and rainy holidays. Due to focus on uniformity across now all schools are opening on same date.  Due to this I had seen how students got cut from learning agricultural practices at their home contributing with their parents. All effects are due to due to miss match with ecological rhythms.

Alongside this, schools can consciously design a social curriculum, even if it remains partly unwritten. This curriculum can integrate three components: knowledge, skills, and values. Students can learn about local tribal history, myths, rituals, ecology, medicinal plants, water systems, festivals, and crafts. They can develop skills such as farming, hunting, crafting, leadership, music, dance, weaving, storytelling, and mapping. At the same time, they experience values like respect for elders, care for ecology, cooperation, courage, honesty, and social responsibility.

To practices all above, schools can create IKS Learning Studios or maker spaces, functioning as IKS laboratories. These may include bamboo workshops, herbal gardens, folk music studios, weaving loom spaces, and soil and seed bank corners. Such spaces may allow children to learn with their hands, senses, and minds together.

Through such ideas and IKS based approaches, schools can gradually transform into living learning community leadership centres which can bridge current education with Indian Knowledge Systems, to prepare learners who are skilled, rooted, responsible, and confident in their cultural wisdom.

Shifting the lens in education allows IKS to move beyond preservation, transforming traditions into living practices where heritage becomes a catalyst for holistic learning. I congratulate RIWATCH for taking this important initiative to organise the conference and extend my best wishes, with the hope that many such opportunities emerge for all of us to contribute meaningfully to RIWATCH’s mission.

Prashant Divekar

Jnana Prabodhini, Pune

Talk on

Indian Knowledge System:
Bhartiya Heritage of Educational Practices
 & Relevance in Contemporary Society 
@
International Conference on

Interpreting Cultures and Traditions:  Shifting the Lenses
RIWATCH, Arunachal Pradesh 
19-21 December 2025