Part 10 of 29 in Helping Your Children Learn: What Parents Need to Know← Part 9Part 11 →
I’ve been reflecting on a quiet moment I had recently with a young patient at my IVF clinic. It was one of those days where the weight of expectation hangs heavy in the air. The parents were anxious, the clinic was bustling, and amidst it all, this young girl sat with a book, utterly absorbed. It got me thinking about the nature of curiosity — how it thrives, how it withers, and how, as adults, we often misinterpret what fostering it truly involves.
Curiosity is a fragile thing. It’s not the quiz-like “What is the capital of Manipur?” sort of thing, which I see too often, even in the way we approach education reform. It’s the kind of curiosity that asks, “Why does the sky change colors at dusk?” This is not about quizzing; it’s about genuine wonder and exploration. It’s about the unguarded moments when a child, or indeed anyone, feels safe enough to voice the shape of their theory, even if it doesn’t align with the expected answer.
In my investments and interaction with startups, I’ve noticed a similar pattern. Founders often feel pressured to have all the answers, to present polished pitches that leave no room for uncertainty. But I’ve found the most promising innovations often come from those who say, “I don’t know, let’s find out.” It’s a stance that invites collaboration and discovery, and it’s something I’ve learned to value deeply — thanks, in part, to my experiences in the medical field, where not knowing is often the first step toward a breakthrough.
In the realm of education, especially within the Indian system, there’s an overwhelming tendency to turn every interest into a syllabus. The performance trap looms large, and I see parents, teachers, even policymakers, falling into it. It’s as if we’ve forgotten that the role of a companion — a curious companion, at that — is not to lead or direct, but to walk alongside, to answer the real questions, supply the necessary materials, and then step back. We need to resist the urge to improve the game, and instead, let the child play and learn from the experience.
This concept of companionship is equally applicable when mentoring startups. As an angel investor, my role isn’t to dictate the path but to support, question, and occasionally challenge. It’s about being present without overshadowing, and it requires a delicate balance. A founder I backed once told me that the best advice I ever gave was when I simply listened and asked, “What do you think happens next?” It was the invitation he needed to explore his own theories, to take ownership of his journey.
In practice, being a curious companion means embracing the unknown. It’s about saying, “I don’t know, let’s see,” and then diving into the exploration together. This approach not only fosters learning but also builds resilience and confidence. When my daughters come to me with questions about the world, I try to resist the instinctive urge to offer immediate solutions. Instead, we explore the answers together, and in doing so, I hope to instill in them the courage to face the unknown — a trait I find increasingly valuable both in life and in the startup ecosystem.
The hardest part, especially in a joint family setup, is avoiding the transformation of every interaction into a lesson. A grandmother telling stories, allowing interruptions, is already a perfect companion. A grandfather taking a child to the market, letting her pay, make a mistake, and pay again, teaches more than a dozen worksheets ever could. These are precious opportunities for genuine learning, and we must protect those adults from being professionalized into homework supervisors.
As we navigate these roles, whether as parents, educators, or mentors, the challenge is to remain curious companions. It’s about preserving the integrity of the wonder, about being willing to listen to wrong answers without pouncing, and about allowing the space for theories to form, unjudged and unafraid. This is not easy work, but it is necessary — and deeply rewarding.
When your child, or a young founder, next asks you something, can you answer without adding a lesson? This is a question I sit with often, and each time, it renews my commitment to being a companion, not a commentator. Let’s embrace this journey together, one curious question at a time.