“Context Over Content: A Forgotten Art of Communication”
“What is a machine?”
Rancho, in the movie 3 Idiots, gives a simple, real-world answer: “A machine is anything that reduces human effort.”
But Professor Viru Sahastrabuddhe rejects it. Why?
Because Rancho answered with context, not content.
He didn't quote the textbook—he spoke from understanding.
That moment speaks volumes about how we value polished content over meaningful context.
We live in a world obsessed with content. Every word we type, every sentence we speak, is scrutinized—not for meaning, but for perfection. A misplaced full stop, a grammar slip, or a slightly awkward sentence structure often leads to immediate judgment. But rarely do we pause to ask: What is the context behind this communication?
In today’s fast-paced digital era, we’ve outsourced understanding to algorithms. AI tools and summarizers now interpret our emails, blogs, and messages, reducing human expression to keywords and bullet points. While they save time, they often lose something crucial in the process—intent.
Ironically, the person with the deepest communicative power is not the one with the highest number of followers, or the most polished writing. It’s the teacher, standing in a classroom, shaping futures with stories, emotions, and empathy. Their value doesn’t lie in how perfect their content is, but in how deeply they connect with their students through context.We don't remember the chapters content which we were taught but we remember the context with which our teacher taught us.
This disconnect between content and context starts early. Parents, in their pursuit of raising ‘good’ children, often scold or discipline them to force a version of correctness. But in doing so, they sometimes fail to understand what the child is truly trying to express. What appears as defiance might actually be a cry for attention, or a creative idea that doesn’t fit into their mold.
As a blogger, I often face an odd question: “Did you really write all this?” My answer? No, the content is not always mine, but the context always is. What I write reflects where I am emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. It’s the context that makes my work authentic—not just the words.
Let me put it simply: when you eat kuboos, chapati, or porotta, do you ask whether it was handmade or machine-made? Rarely. What matters is—did it fill your hunger? Similarly, don’t just consume content. Ask: Did it move me? Did it make me think? Did it connect with my context?
Because ultimately, it's the context that gives life to content. Without it, even the most perfect sentence is just noise.
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