Kabir's lesson for the age of AI

Few verses in South Asia's intellectual tradition have travelled across centuries with as much relevance as Bhagat Kabir's celebrated couplet:

Guru Govind dou khade, kake lagoon paay?

Balihari guru aapne, Govind diyo batay.

"If both my teacher and God stood before me, whose feet should I touch first? I bow first to my teacher, for it was the teacher who showed me the way to God."

Read literally, the verse may appear unsettling. Read as Kabir intended, as metaphor and spiritual insight, it becomes one of the finest tributes ever paid to education. Kabir was not placing the teacher above the Divine. He was acknowledging a profound truth: before one can seek ultimate truth, one must first learn how to seek. The teacher does not replace the destination; the teacher reveals the path.

When I completed my PhD, I dedicated my thesis to one of my teachers, and Kabir's words inspired that dedication. It was not a theological statement but an intellectual acknowledgement. Whatever ability I possess to question, investigate, analyse and distinguish evidence from opinion was cultivated by teachers who encouraged curiosity rather than conformity. My thesis carried my name, but its foundations had been laid much earlier by teachers who taught me not merely what to think, but how to think.

That distinction has become even more important today. We live in an age where artificial intelligence can write essays, translate languages, solve problems and summarise books within seconds. Information has never been more abundant. Yet the central question of education has changed. It is no longer simply, "Where can I find information?" but "How do I know what is true, reliable and worth believing?"

This is where Kabir's wisdom becomes strikingly contemporary.

Artificial intelligence can retrieve information, but it cannot replace wisdom. It can generate convincing answers, but it cannot cultivate intellectual humility. It can process vast data, yet it cannot teach integrity, judgment or moral responsibility. These qualities emerge through thoughtful teachers who challenge assumptions, encourage scepticism, nurture imagination and show that learning is an ethical as well as an intellectual pursuit.

History confirms this reality. Socrates left behind no books, yet transformed philosophy through Plato. Plato shaped Aristotle, whose influence extended far beyond his lifetime. In Islamic civilisation, knowledge flourished through living chains of teachers and students. Great centres of learning became great not only because they possessed manuscripts, but because they produced minds capable of interpreting them.

This reverence for teachers transcends cultures. Confucius in China, Socrates in Greece, the Guru in the Indian tradition and the Mu'allim in Islamic thought all represent the same principle: education is fundamentally a human relationship. Facts may be transmitted electronically, but wisdom still travels through conversation, mentorship and example.

Unfortunately, modern society often swings between two flawed extremes. One turns teachers into unquestionable figures; the other reduces them to service providers measured only by examinations or employment outcomes. Both views diminish education. A true teacher is neither an object of worship nor merely an employee. A teacher is a guide - a lamp that illuminates the road without claiming to be the destination.

This is precisely what Kabir wished to convey. His verse is not about placing the teacher above God; it is about recognising that every meaningful journey begins with someone who teaches us how to walk. The teacher is not truth itself, but the first guide towards truth.

When I look back at the dedication page of my PhD thesis, I realise it was never only gratitude to one individual. It was an acknowledgement of a timeless fact: every scholar carries the invisible fingerprints of teachers.

Kabir understood this centuries ago. In an age fascinated by artificial intelligence, his couplet reminds us that the greatest intelligence has always been, and will remain, profoundly human.