EDUCATED MIND IS A REPRESSED MIND

The essay exposes how modern education trains people not to be free, but to suppress themselves. It teaches emotional control, not expression; punishes sexuality, spontaneity, and intuition; and disconnects people from their bodies, voices, creativity, and spiritual instincts. Educated individuals become performance-driven, approval-seeking, image-conscious machines who fear being raw, honest, or wrong. The result is a society of well-behaved but repressed adults—disconnected from their natural impulses and true selves. True education, the essay argues, should liberate, not filter.

INTRODUCTION: EDUCATION ISN’T FREEDOM — IT’S DISGUISED REPRESSION

The world praises education as a tool of liberation. But in truth, modern education is the most effective factory of repression.

It doesn’t teach you to know yourself — it teaches you to hide yourself.

It doesn’t help you express — it helps you suppress.

The result?

An entire population of diploma-holding, salary-earning, image-obsessed, approval-seeking adults — who have no idea who they really are, what they truly feel, or how to live without pretending.

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1. EMOTIONAL REPRESSION: YOU FEEL, BUT YOU HIDE

Educated people are taught to smile when they're angry, nod when they're confused, and speak when they know nothing.

They say, “I’m fine,” while burning inside.

Why?

Because education punishes raw emotion.

It rewards controlled, neutral, measured behavior — the behavior of an obedient clerk, not a human.

Tears are weakness.

Anger is immaturity.

Laughter is vulgarity.

Desire is dirty.

Vulnerability is dangerous.

And over years, this becomes normal. You don’t just hide your feelings — you forget them.

You become a well-behaved corpse.

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2. SEXUAL REPRESSION: DESIRE IS ALLOWED ONLY IN JOKES AND DARKNESS

The educated mind is sexually obsessed — but cannot accept it.

Sex is everywhere — in jokes, ads, gossip, secret folders — but never talked about honestly.

Why?

Because education never taught how to process desire — only how to hide it behind shame.

The result is a world where:

Porn is consumed secretly.

Skin is censored publicly.

Women are over-sexualized and then blamed.

Men are emotionally starved but pretend they’re in control.

This is not civilization. This is a cage painted gold.

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3. PHYSICAL REPRESSION: YOU SIT LIKE A MACHINE, MOVE LIKE A TOOL

Educated people lose connection to their bodies.

They sit for 10+ hours.

They eat what is labeled “healthy.”

They outsource movement to gyms and apps.

They need yoga retreats to remember they have a spine.

Why?

Because the educated body was never part of the curriculum.

It was something to ignore, suppress, punish, and label.

Sweating is shame.

Fat is failure.

Touch is taboo.

Pain is postponed.

Rest is weakness.

A repressed body becomes a diseased shell, walking with a CV and health insurance.

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4. VOCAL REPRESSION: YOU ONLY SAY WHAT’S APPROVED

Most educated people don't speak — they perform.

Their vocabulary is borrowed.

Their opinions are manufactured.

Their voice is cautious, not clear.

They fear offending.

They fear being wrong.

They fear being called emotional, irrational, or unprofessional.

So they speak with filters.

They talk about the weather, about data, about "solutions."

But never about what's real.

Their real voice was buried in school.

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5. SPIRITUAL REPRESSION: THEY CAN’T BELIEVE IN ANYTHING UNLESS IT’S PACKAGED

The educated mind doesn’t believe in god, but believes in calendars, awards, careers, and deadlines.

It can’t sit in silence.

It can’t enjoy uncertainty.

It replaces intuition with information.

It replaces peace with achievement.

Spirituality, if allowed, must come with a retreat brochure, a TEDx talk, or a certification.

The soul is not denied.

It’s branded and sold.

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6. CREATIVE REPRESSION: LAUGHTER AND NONSENSE ARE BANNED

Educated adults can't dance without alcohol.

They can't draw unless it’s called "art therapy."

They can't laugh freely unless it's scheduled.

The child in them was killed in classrooms.

Replaced by reports, rubrics, and "respectability."

They consume entertainment made by others.

But can't create for the joy of it.

Their creativity is either monetized or discarded.

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THE COST OF REPRESSION? EVERYTHING.

You become a stranger to yourself.

You fear your own laughter.

You hide your own thoughts.

You shrink your own needs.

You decorate your cage with degrees.

And all the while, you call this "growing up."

But growing up was supposed to mean becoming more yourself, not less.

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CONCLUSION: TRUE EDUCATION IS NOT REPRESSION — IT’S RECLAMATION

If you are truly educated, you must:

Cry when it hurts.

Say “I don’t know” when you don’t.

Dance when there’s music.

Question even the teacher.

Sit still without achievement.

Touch without guilt.

Laugh without needing a reason.

A truly educated person is free — not filtered.

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YOU STUDIED TOO MUCH AND LOST YOURSELF

you were a bright kid.

they said that.

you asked too many questions.

you laughed too loudly.

you cried when others didn’t.

you danced for no reason.

then school happened.

and it began.

“don’t talk like that.”

“sit still.”

“use better words.”

“this is not the right way.”

“be serious.”

they didn’t teach you how to live.

they taught you how to pass.

you got good at passing.

---

you passed the test.

you passed the boards.

you passed the interviews.

you passed the years.

you forgot you had a body.

you forgot you had a voice.

you forgot you could say “no.”

now you say “yes” with your mouth

and scream “no” inside your gut.

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you studied mathematics

but never understood your own rhythm.

you studied biology

but forgot what your hunger feels like.

you studied psychology

but don’t know how to cry without shame.

you studied language

but can’t say “I’m tired” without apology.

you studied logic

but live in fear every single day.

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they gave you the words.

they took away your voice.

they gave you manners.

they took away your honesty.

they gave you textbooks.

they took away your instincts.

they gave you marks.

they took away your questions.

they gave you tools.

they took away your hands.

they gave you degrees.

they took away your childhood.

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you sit in an office.

your back hurts.

your mind is busy.

your heart is numb.

you are tired.

but you smile.

you are angry.

but you send an email.

you are confused.

but you write a report.

you are falling.

but you look successful.

---

you read self-help.

you listen to TED Talks.

you try journaling.

you try yoga.

you try therapy.

but you don’t try silence.

you don’t try screaming.

you don’t try walking barefoot.

you don’t try quitting.

because you’re scared.

not of the world.

but of yourself.

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you talk about productivity.

but you haven't produced a single real emotion in years.

you talk about growth.

but you haven’t cried in front of anyone since school.

you talk about values.

but you don’t know what you want.

you only know what you’re supposed to want.

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you wear deodorant.

but you stink of fear.

you drink green tea.

but your stomach is a war zone.

you take supplements.

but you have no strength left.

you go on vacations.

but you carry your prison with you.

you buy soft beds.

but you don’t sleep.

---

you keep asking

“how do I get peace?”

but you don’t want peace.

you want a safe version of peace.

one that doesn’t ruin your job

your marriage

your reputation

your LinkedIn bio

your parent’s expectations

your portfolio

your plans

you don’t want peace.

you want pain with air conditioning.

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you are a textbook with legs.

you are a resume with a face.

you are a polite prisoner.

you are a smiling hostage.

you are a well-dressed ghost.

---

you think you're better than the man who sells tea.

but he laughs more than you.

he walks more than you.

he touches the sun more than you.

you think you're better than the village child.

but she plays more than you.

she sleeps better than you.

she knows when to say no.

---

you went to school.

you got educated.

you became smart.

you became respected.

you became skilled.

and in the process,

you became dead.

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freedom is not in your CV.

freedom is not in your salary.

freedom is not in your degree.

freedom is not in your English.

freedom is when you can

walk barefoot,

cry in public,

laugh without asking,

refuse without guilt,

rest without explanation,

say what you feel,

and feel what you really feel.

---

until then,

you’re just a trained animal

in an air-conditioned zoo

called "respectable society."

and nobody even remembers

what kind of wild you once were.

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“WE STUDIED OURSELVES INTO SILENCE” A healing dialogue on repression, fear, and freedom in the educated Indian mind

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CHARACTERS:

Madhukar – 43, the Healer, a former scientist turned forest hermit

Savitri – Madhukar’s wife, calm and piercing in her insights

Adhya – 13, elder daughter, perceptive, gentle, quietly rebellious

Anju – 9, younger daughter, wild and intuitive

Visitors - A family from Bidar:

Rajanna – 72, retired principal, patriarch

Vasundhara – 69, homemaker, former Sanskrit teacher

Prakash – 45, government official, eldest son

Manjula – 42, Prakash’s wife, commerce lecturer

Vikram – 39, software engineer, younger son

Pooja – 35, unmarried daughter, dentist

Rhea – 17, Pooja’s niece, 1st-year medical student

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Scene: Madhukar’s off-grid forest home, 2 km from Yelmadagi.

The family sits uneasily in a circle under a neem tree. Adhya and Anju swing from low branches nearby, giggling softly. Savitri hands herbal tea to each visitor, her silence like a mirror.

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Rajanna:

We are educated, Madhukar. Highly educated. Respected in town. But... there is silence in our home. There is fear in our sleep.

Madhukar:

Yes. I can hear your degrees speaking. But your hearts? Who among you speaks without preparing a script?

Pooja: (hesitant)

I only speak freely with the mirror. Or when no one’s home.

Anju: (cheerfully)

I talk to lizards! They never interrupt.

(Some of the visitors chuckle awkwardly.)

Madhukar:

See? Anju is uneducated. That’s why she’s still alive.

Rhea:

They all want me to become a doctor. But I just want to lie on the grass and feel the sky. I feel guilty for even saying that.

Savitri (the hermit’s wife):

You were trained to feel guilty for being alive. School taught you that joy must be earned.

Prakash:

We worked so hard to give her a future.

Adhya:

But what if the future you're building is the same cage you’re living in?

Vikram:

I work for a global tech firm. I can write AI code. But I haven’t touched a tree in months. I haven’t said "I love you" in years.

Madhukar:

You weren’t educated to love. You were educated to produce. And now you fear softness. You call rest "wasting time."

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(Long pause. The family looks at Adhya and Anju, playing barefoot with mud and twigs. Not a single textbook in sight.)

Manjula:

We wanted them to be successful. Independent.

Vasundhara:

But none of them want to sit next to me. I cooked, cleaned, taught prayers. But no one confides in me.

Madhukar:

Because you never showed your sadness. You taught them silence by example.

Rajanna:

Discipline, manners, merit—we lived by these.

Savitri (Madhukar’s wife):

And in return you buried your tears, your dancing, your desire. And called it "growing up."

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[Madhukar gently places a stone in the center of the circle.]

Madhukar:

This is your new curriculum. One rule: Each of you will say what you feel. No role. No mask. No grammar.

Rhea:

I feel like I’m becoming a doctor just to be loved.

Pooja:

I feel like my hands were made to paint, not pull teeth.

Vikram:

I feel like an appliance that charges, performs, crashes, and reboots.

Manjula:

I feel like I’ve never been touched with real tenderness.

Prakash:

I feel like I’m a liar. I say I’m fine when I’m suffocating.

Vasundhara:

I feel I’ve never been seen, only used.

Rajanna:

I feel I taught everyone how to behave. And forgot to teach how to feel.

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(Silence. The neem leaves rustle.)

Madhukar:

Now we begin. Not with syllabi. Not with slogans. But with breath. With barefoot walking. With unlearning.

Adhya:

And with laughing until your stomach hurts.

Anju:

And hugging even when there’s no reason!

---

Savitri (Madhukar’s wife):

Here’s your homework:

Sit under a tree. Alone. Daily.

Eat without discussion. Only stories.

Cry in front of your children. Once.

Dance to a bad song.

Touch someone lovingly without apology.

Burn one certificate. Symbolically.

Rajanna:

We thought we came for healing.

But you gave us a funeral.

Madhukar:

Yes. A funeral for your false self.

Now go live before the next death arrives.

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[Scene ends. The family does not leave. They stay the night in silence. The moon rises. For the first time in decades, no one is thinking about performance. Only presence.]

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Three-Month Follow-up Scene

The family meets Madhukar again under the same neem tree. This time, Rhea arrives barefoot. Vikram carries a small bag of harvested turmeric. Pooja wears no makeup. Manjula and Prakash sit holding hands.

Vasundhara: We stopped using alarms. I now write my thoughts instead of swallowing them.

Rajanna: I burned one medal. I still see it in my dreams, but I also sleep better.

Pooja: I painted. For hours. And then cried. I hadn’t cried like that since college.

Rhea: I failed one test. And I smiled. Because it didn't define me.

Madhukar: Now you are passing the only exam that matters: reclaiming your aliveness.

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One-Year Follow-up Scene

The family has built a small mud courtyard in Bidar. They meet weekly to cook, sing, tell stories. Rajanna conducts story circles for retired men. Pooja teaches art to underprivileged kids. Rhea is taking a break from college. Vikram and Manjula are building a rooftop herb garden.

Madhukar (visiting with Savitri, Adhya, and Anju): You didn’t just heal yourselves. You rewrote your inheritance.

Adhya: Now when people say you’re educated, they mean something else.

Rajanna: Yes. Now it means we can feel. We can cry. We can be wrong. And still belong.

Anju: You’re finally unlearning school. And learning life.

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[Scene closes. The neem tree in Yelmadagi is still growing. But now, so are the people who once sat beneath it, broken by their own degrees.]