A reflection on clarity, uncomfortable truth, and the Jataka tales that refuse to let humans hide behind drama.

Wisdom has this annoying habit of arriving late, like a guest who shows up after the party is over and calmly points at the mess you made. If emotions are the fire, compassion is the water, and courage is the leap, then wisdom is the moment you stop doing gymnastics with your own life and finally see what’s actually happening. And if you want proof of how far behind adults truly are, go spend a day with children. They deliver wisdom like it’s a snack they casually pull out of their pockets, while we adults perform entire operas of confusion before arriving at the same point.

Just last month, two kids fought over a pencil as if it was a golden sceptre. Before I even stepped in, a third child—five years old and wiser than most leaders I’ve met—took the pencil, broke it in half and said, “Now both happy.” Then walked away like a retired monk who knew he had done his job. That was pure wisdom. Direct. Efficient. Zero ego. No performance. The spirit of the Nandiya Jataka born straight into tiny hands.

Meanwhile, adults… well, we take the scenic route.

The Black Dress and the Nandiya Jataka — Adult Imitation vs Child Honesty

I’ve always loved wearing black. Polish roots, inner elegance, practical fashion—call it whatever. I was the lone black-dressed teacher in a sea of bright Indian colours, feeling comfortable and very much myself. Then slowly, black started appearing everywhere. Suddenly others discovered the magic of monochrome. And the compliments? Oh, they went to someone else—someone who wore black once and instantly became the “trendsetter.” Not me, the original.

That was my personal Nandiya Jataka moment, the tale where someone imitates you but pretends it’s their natural brilliance. I laughed later, but in that moment the ego had things to say.

And then I think of the children. When one girl created a drawing with a crooked magical door, half the class copied it the next day and proudly announced, “I did it like her because she’s cool!” No shame. No pretending. Just honest admiration. Kids copy with joy. Adults copy with politics. That’s where we shrink next to children—they imitate honestly while we imitate strategically.

Promises, Patterns, and the Cullaka-Setthi Jataka — Kids Correct Themselves Faster Than Adults Change

Then life gave me the masterpiece of misplaced trust. I worked with someone who could promise transformation with the confidence of a motivational speaker but delivered chaos every time. Alcoholism, narcissism, grand speeches, “I didn’t mean it,” “This time I swear.” I believed because we shared a goal, and sometimes hope makes you temporarily blind. But patterns don’t lie. He didn’t change, he didn’t try, and I finally saw the truth.

And then I remember a little boy in class who knocked down another child’s block tower and said, “Sorry, I run too fast.” The next day he ran again and another child shouted, “Walk this time!” He stopped instantly and said, “Yes, I remember.” No theatrics. No emotional manipulation. No “trust me this time.” Just behaviour corrected.

That’s the essence of the Cullaka-Setthi Jataka—wisdom means watching actions, not listening to vocabulary. Children do this naturally. Adults apparently need entire life chapters.

Drama Queens, Matakabhatta Jataka, and the Child Who Ended Drama in Two Seconds

There was also that unforgettable leader who ruled through chaos. Tears on command. Emotional manipulation packaged as sensitivity. Schemes more complicated than a crime novel. She wasn’t drowning; she was orchestrating storms. And we, in a tragic display of adult naïveté, kept believing she needed support and understanding. It took far too long to realise she was manufacturing confusion to stay powerful.

And then I think of the day two kids argued about banana slices. One started fake-crying. The other looked at her with perfect clarity and said, “Stop drama, we share.” And the drama died instantly. Banana eaten. Problem solved.

This is why the Matakabhatta Jataka makes such perfect sense among children. They see drama, they name it, they refuse to feed it. Adults? We host drama. We crown it. We invite it for tea and biscuits. Children finish what adults complicate.

Silence, Mahājanaka Jataka, and the Girl Who Drew With Her Finger Instead

Wisdom also came when I learned silence is sometimes the only dignity left. I once fell seriously ill during a journey, ended up at a roadside clinic with two small children, and a stranger helped me through the pain until I received treatment. When family arrived, they saw him helping and suddenly invented a full movie. Accusations, assumptions, imaginations—I was too exhausted to fight any of it. I simply said, “Believe what you want.” And that was the day I understood the Mahājanaka Jataka: wisdom is knowing which battles deserve your breath and which don’t even deserve a sigh.

And then there’s the child who, accused falsely of taking a pencil, simply said, “She doesn’t want to listen, so I draw with my finger.” She dipped her finger in imaginary ink and happily created invisible art. Five minutes later, the accuser found the pencil in her pocket. Truth surfaces. The wise stay calm. The peaceful win.

Children understand dignity without reading philosophy. Adults need life to break them a little first.

The Unteamed Team, Workplace Ego Games, and How Kids Build Sandcastles Better Than Professionals

And yes, there was that incredible workplace where everyone claimed teamwork but no one practiced it. Newcomers begged for guidance but received dust. A colleague who said she “loved working with me” turned sour the moment gossip offered her a buffet of stories. The project leader ignored all my attempts to understand the task, then blamed me for not doing it right. And the moment I clarified the truth, the gossip grew legs and ran. People were offended not because I was wrong, but because I was right. Eventually I saw the real picture: it was jealousy disguised as anger, insecurity dressed up as moral judgement.

Then I remember two children building a sandcastle. One made crooked walls, the other made perfect towers. The tower kid said, “Your wall is good, so my tower stays.” And they continued, focused, united, no ego in sight.

This is the wisdom adults lost while memorising their résumés. In the world of children, teamwork is instinct. In the world of adults, teamwork is politics. And the Matakabhatta and Nandiya Jataka both laugh softly in the background.

When Children Are the Masters and Adults the Students

If life taught me anything, it’s this: kids understand the heart of wisdom faster than adults understand the instructions on a shampoo bottle. They see truth immediately. They swallow ego like medicine. They copy honestly, correct behaviour instantly, call out drama with one sentence, and protect their peace like royalty.

And adults? We complicate. We interpret. We suspect. We pretend. We gossip. We twist simplicity into a full-season drama.

And every time, the Jataka tales rise from their ancient pages and whisper, “Look at the children. They already know.”

Wisdom isn’t age.
Wisdom isn’t experience.
Wisdom is truth without makeup.
And children walk around wearing it naturally while we adults try to rediscover it after years of noise.

In the end, wisdom is seeing through nonsense before it eats you alive.
And children seem to have been born knowing exactly how to do that.

If you’re following these ancient Jataka threads with me, and you enjoy watching how human behaviour hasn’t evolved nearly as much as our phones have, you might like revisiting the earlier parts of this journey. Each one meets the same old wisdom in completely new modern disasters.

Start where the whole circus began, with the emotional hypocrisy adults love to perform:
👉 https://chireveti.com/emotional-hypocrisy-of-adults-jataka-tales-today

Then move into compassion — the messy, complicated, strangely beautiful choice we adults make only after exhausting all other options:
👉 https://chireveti.com/jataka-tales-modern-compassion

And of course, courage — the thing children live naturally while adults negotiate emotionally with their own shadows:
👉 https://chireveti.com/courage-diary-of-real-life-bravery

Every part of this series shows the same truth the Jataka tales have been hinting at for centuries:
we’ve changed our clothes, our cities, our apps…
but our hearts still learn in the same old ways.