“If Not Now, Then When?” — Swami Parthasarathy’s Student Antara Mohan’s Humble Yet Urgent Appeal to Prime Minister Modi to Make Vedantic Studies Compulsory in Schools

When we met Antara Mohan, a soft-spoken Vedanta student and former law scholar from the University of Bristol, we didn’t expect to walk away with such a lump in our throats. She didn’t shout slogans or make demands. She simply spoke—as if from the soul of Bharat herself.

“I had everything—degrees, internships, a future in law. But I felt empty,” she said. “Vedanta filled that void.”

For the last three years, Antara has been a dedicated student at the Vedanta Academy, under the guidance of the globally respected philosopher Swami A. Parthasarathy. Her deep study of the Bhagavad Gita, Upanishads, and timeless principles of self-mastery transformed her from a high-functioning, validation-seeking achiever into a centered, clear-headed woman with a vision—not for herself, but for the next generation.

Antara has travelled to the United States to spread the wisdom of Vedanta and is the author of Blissfully Yours Always, a book currently being considered for the Jaipur Literature Festival. Her journey is one of spiritual inquiry, grounded in lived experience and a profound desire to serve her country.

And so, with reverence and resolve, she penned a heartfelt letter to Prime Minister Narendra Modi, urging him to introduce Vedantic education in Indian schools. Her voice isn’t loud. It’s steady. And that makes it all the more powerful.

A Letter That Began With Gratitude

Before her appeal, Antara took a moment to express deep thanks for the Prime Minister’s leadership on several historic and spiritually significant initiatives.

“To my dear Prime Minister Shri Narendra Modi ji,

Before anything, I must thank you. Operation Sindoor was not just a defence mission. It was an awakening. You reminded us that our temples are not mere stone—they embody Shakti. You gave voice to a silent cry lodged deep in the hearts of millions of Indian women. Thank you.

Your unwavering leadership in realizing the Ram Mandir, protecting sacred sites, and reviving Bharat’s spiritual identity has inspired pride and faith across the nation. You stood for more than politics—you stood for dharma itself. For that, I am deeply grateful.”

The Cry of a Generation: Why Vedanta Must Be Taught in Schools

Antara's letter goes on to lay out a visionary and urgent call to protect not just India's monuments, but its minds. And it begins with an observation most educators, parents, and counsellors will relate to:

“Our children are not okay.

They are anxious, over-stimulated, under-loved, and mentally fragmented. They have phones but no focus. Knowledge, but no wisdom. They are taught to solve equations but not emotions. And when life throws them pain, they are completely unprepared.”

She explains that Vedanta is not a religion. It is a mental and emotional infrastructure. A preventive, not curative approach to well-being. A discipline, not a dogma.

“Vedanta teaches you how to think—not what to think.

It strengthens the intellect. It calms the agitated mind. It reveals the impermanence of pleasure, the illusion of ego, and the path to resilience, not regret.

Our schools teach physics and math. But who teaches children how to handle heartbreak, betrayal, loss, envy, comparison?

Vedanta does.

It gives what no syllabus currently offers—inner stamina. It builds human beings, not just professionals.”

And that’s precisely why, she emphasizes, it must be taught now—not later. Because children today are not merely growing up—they are growing apart from themselves. They are exposed to information but deprived of reflection. They are praised for achievement, yet unable to cope with adversity.

She asks: What use is academic excellence if it collapses under emotional distress? What good is a competitive edge if it comes at the cost of mental breakdowns?

Vedanta, she argues, is the missing piece in our education system’s puzzle. It doesn’t replace science—it completes it. It doesn’t remove ambition—it refines it. It trains the mind to serve the intellect, not enslave it. And above all, it gives the next generation the one thing the world cannot give them: an anchor within.

A Crisis of Character, Not Curriculum

Antara points out that the real crisis in modern education isn’t academic—it’s existential. We are producing students with high IQs and low EQs. Capable of cracking exams, but incapable of handling rejection. They fear boredom, drown in distractions, and chase validation on screens.

“The result?” She writes,

“Rising depression. Suicides. Disconnected youth. Lost in ambition, but unsure why they’re chasing it. Our ancients warned of this. That’s why they designed education not for career-making, but character-making.”

What Can Be Done?

Antara’s letter outlines practical, realistic, and deeply impactful suggestions:

Age-appropriate storytelling from the Gita, Upanishads, Mahabharata, and Ramayana—not to preach, but to teach discernment, self-control, and courage.

Weekly Self-Reflection Circles: Sessions where students pause, reflect, and write—not about textbooks, but about life.

Simple Mind Training Exercises: Learning to observe one’s thoughts, direct attention, delay impulsive reactions.

Training teachers in Vedantic principles to lead by example, not sermons.

Institutional partnerships with organizations like the Vedanta Academy to preserve authenticity and neutrality.

All framed under "Character Education," not religious education.

Why This Is Urgent

Antara doesn’t rely on sentiment alone. She writes with a clarity that even the most rational reader would respect.

“Modiji, you have shown unmatched courage—from the abrogation of Article 370 to Ram Mandir, from Ujjwala Yjana to Bharat’s global rise. This one request is not political—it is civilisational.

If we miss this moment, we risk raising a generation that’s tech-savvy but spiritually bankrupt. Emotionally weak. Ethically lost. And no economy or army can fix that. Only inner reform can.”

A Daughter's Final Plea

The letter closes with quiet force:

“You saved our temples, Modiji. I now beg you to save our children. Bring Vedanta into our schools. Not tomorrow. Not someday.

If not now, then when?”

And then comes her final offering, one that stays with you long after the letter ends:

“I did my part. I placed this request like a flower at the feet of Bharat Mata. The rest is not in my hands.

But I pray…

May India rise not just in GDP, but in greatness.

Not just in power, but in peace.”

There is no anger in Antara’s letter. No blame. Just deep bhakti, bold vision, and a daughter’s love for the future of India.

As we read and reread her words, we couldn’t help but wonder—could this be the voice that changes everything?

It only takes one flame to light a thousand diyas.