There's a child in all of us -- curious, playful, easily amazed, and resting deep within the chambers of our hearts. We meet this child more often than we admit: in bursts of joy, in fragile moments of disappointment, and in the quiet yearning to start over. Yet adulthood teaches us to silence that soft voice, to tuck away wonder, and to parade certainty. Perhaps that is why we are so deeply protective of the children around us -- why their laughter lightens our burdens, and why their tears unravel the armour we so carefully wear.
On this Children's Day, if we pause even briefly, we may hear the faint echo of that inner child reminding us that age is merely a number, and innocence, wonder, and joy are timeless companions. But celebration alone cannot complete their childhood; only when we enable their rights -- the freedom to learn, the courage to question, and the opportunity to dream -- do we truly honour them.
Children today perceive the world with an insight that often startles adults. Gone are the days when Children's Day meant a holiday sprinkled with chocolates and cheerful programmes. Today, its meaning carries far more weight. Every time we encounter young children -- whether in our homes, neighbourhoods, or workplaces -- we realize that they observe us with the precision of a mirror. They do not care for our designations or achievements.
What holds their gaze is how we speak to people, how we respond to setbacks, how we treat time, and how we behave when there is no audience. They absorb not our resumes but our realities. And while their world is rapidly morphing into landscapes dominated by artificial intelligence, shifting climates, and volatile socio-cultural dynamics, the foundations they need remain unchanged: curiosity, empathy, discipline, gratitude, and perseverance. If we can gift them these, we have already laid the strongest foundation for their future.
Childhood, especially between the ages of three and eight, is a terrain of delicate possibilities. A trivial analysis reveals an intricate interplay of strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and challenges. Children are born with astonishing abilities: their imaginations roam freely, their curiosity sparks like fireflies, and their emotional intelligence often exceeds our expectations.
Today's generation is expressive, empathetic, and remarkably self-aware -- they wear their hearts openly and speak about feelings with a courage previous generation rarely displayed. Yet this beauty coexists with vulnerability. Not every child has access to enriching early childhood education or playful environments that support socio-emotional growth.
The increasing prevalence of screens intrudes upon imagination and weakens the capacity to self-regulate. Many children remain caught in systems that prioritize rote learning over exploration, silence over questioning and conformity over creativity.
But this generation also stands before unprecedented opportunities. India's educational reforms, especially the National Education Policy (NEP) 2020, place the foundational stage at the front and centre of national development. Digital innovation is creating tools that personalise learning and support early diagnostics.
NGOs, community groups, and teacher education institutes are building bridges where systems fall short, and parents today are more informed than ever. Yet challenges persist in equal measure: socio-economic disparities, undertrained early childhood educators, mental health concerns, varying levels of infrastructure, and the widening digital divide, all of which threaten to cast long shadows on early development. To nurture this generation, we must remain conscious of both the light and the shadows.
The NEP 2020 emerges as India's most ambitious promise to its youngest citizens. By identifying ages three to eight as a distinct foundational stage within the 5+3+3+4 structure, the policy reimagines early childhood learning as joyful, flexible, play-based, and deeply rooted in local culture. No child should be thrust into a rigid, rote-driven system that stifles imagination before it takes flight.
Through initiatives such as NIPUN Bharat, the NEP emphasizes foundational literacy and numeracy as non-negotiable life skills. It encourages learning in the mother tongue, strengthens teacher training, and places the child -- not the textbook -- at the centre of the learning experience. In essence, the NEP envisions classrooms where teachers act as facilitators of wonder, not taskmasters of content.
In Jammu & Kashmir, the story of childhood carries its own unique tapestry of complexities and hopes. The region's breathtaking geography, linguistic richness, and socio-political sensitivities shape young lives in ways that differ from the rest of India. Children from nomadic communities such as the Gujjars and Bakarwals face learning disruptions caused by seasonal migration.
Yet these very children bring with them an extraordinary sense of resilience and an encyclopaedia of lived experiences. Institutions across the region -- from SCERT to DIETs and field schools -- are steadily bridging learning gaps through remedial programmes, localized materials, and multilingual initiatives.
Community-driven committees and NGOs often serve as lifelines for vulnerable children, ensuring that destitute and marginalized populations receive support. J&K's cultural mosaic, with its blend of Kashmiri, Urdu, Gojri, and Pahari traditions, offers a fertile ground for implementing NEP 2020's emphasis on mother tongue instruction and culturally-rooted learning.
As artificial intelligence reshapes the world at an unprecedented pace, children's early years become even more crucial. Childhood must remain rooted in human connections -- even as digital tools enter the learning environment. Children need knowledge-building experiences that help them recognize patterns, understand cause and effect, and develop the foundational logic that precedes computational thinking. They need skills that machines cannot imitate: creativity, imagination, empathy, critical thinking, collaboration, and ethical reasoning.
Most importantly, they need attitudes that allow them to embrace learning with curiosity and courage -- attitudes shaped not through gadgets but through relationships, play, exploration, and stories. AI should remain a tool in their hands, not a force that shapes their identity.
The OECD's latest frameworks echo a similar message: early AI literacy is not about coding but about cultivating thinking minds. The frameworks emphasize that young children must learn to question, reason, collaborate, and navigate ethical dilemmas in digital environments.
Emotional intelligence, in particular, will become the defining currency of the future -- because in a world where machines perform tasks with precision, it is human sensitivity, creativity, and moral judgement that will set individuals apart. The societies that thrive tomorrow will not be those that simply adopt technology but those that raise children to create knowledge, not merely consume it.
This responsibility does not rest on schools alone. It belongs to an entire ecosystem. Parents and caregivers, as children's first teachers, shape worldviews through their daily choices -- how they speak, react, prioritize, and treat others. Teachers hold the chalk that writes the earliest chapters of a child's story, and their classrooms can either become havens of imagination or cages of silence.
Heads of institutions establish the culture that either empowers teachers or stifles them. System-level functionaries -- from ZEOs to SCERT policymakers -- create the structural support that helps quality trickle into classrooms. When all stakeholders collaborate -- schools, teacher education institutes, NGOs, community groups, and families -- children receive the holistic support they truly deserve.
Ultimately, the aspiration must be to transform India from an information-consuming society to a knowledge-creating one. Children must be encouraged to investigate, invent, discover, collaborate, and dream. A child who builds a small bridge from cardboard is already imagining solutions; a child who turns stones into stories is practising creativity; a child who questions rules is learning to think critically. When we raise creators instead of passive consumers, we shape a society capable of innovation, empathy, and sustained progress.
On this Children's Day, as we honour the millions of young hearts and minds across our nation, we must remember that they are far stronger and more emotionally aware than we ever were at their age. They embody a new kind of courage -- the courage to be authentic, to express vulnerability, to challenge stereotypes, and to prioritize well-being.
Our responsibility, therefore, is profound yet simple: give them the freedom to learn, the courage to question, and the opportunity to dream without limits. If we can give them these, we have done enough. Here's to raising a generation better than us -- more compassionate, more curious, more courageous, and more prepared for a world of endless possibilities.