Are We Reading Less, Chasing Badges More? A Wake-Up Call for the Curious Mind

A bustling office in Bengaluru, screens glowing, keyboards clacking. Amid the hum of deadlines, something’s missing: the quiet focus of someone lost in a book, or the spark of a team solving a problem from scratch. Instead, we see LinkedIn posts flashing shiny new certifications—Salesforce, MuleSoft, you name it. Badges earned, applause gathered, but are we learning, or just collecting? And why does it feel like deep thinking is slipping away?

As a professional in today’s corporate world, I’ve been wondering: why are we reading less? Why are younger folks less interested in diving deep to fix things? And what’s with the obsession over certifications that seem to trap us in a cycle of chasing, not creating? Let’s unpack this with a clear lens, for all of us who value ideas over noise.

The Fading Art of Reading

Walk into any corporate office, and you’ll see it: screens dominate, attention jumps. A manager skims a report, a junior scrolls X for updates. Books? They’re rare. It’s not just India—globally, leisure reading is shrinking. A 2019 National Book Trust survey found only 25% of Indians read beyond textbooks, but that’s not because we hate books. It’s because attention is under siege.

Our brains are wired to adapt. When we scroll through 15-second reels or ping-pong between Slack messages, we train for speed, not depth. Studies—like one from Microsoft in 2015—say our attention span’s down to 8 seconds, shorter than a goldfish’s. No wonder a 200-page book feels like climbing Nandi Hills. For the younger generation, raised on smartphones (India has over 600 million users!), reading feels slow, even pointless, when answers seem a Google away.

But here’s the cost: without reading, we lose focus, retention, and the ability to wrestle with big ideas. In Karnataka, we grew up hearing stories of Basavanna’s sharp intellect or Kuvempu’s layered poetry. Those taught us to think, to question. If we swap that for bite-sized posts on X, we risk swallowing half-truths—propaganda that thrives on emotion, not logic. A 2022 MIT study found lies spread six times faster online than truth. Reading grounds us; skimming leaves us adrift.

The Certification Trap

Now, let’s talk about the corporate badge race. Giants like Salesforce and MuleSoft push certifications hard—Trailhead badges, Admin certs, Architect tracks. On one hand, it’s knowledge: learn a platform, land a job. In India, a Salesforce gig can pay ₹8-12 lakh a year, a lifeline for many. But there’s a catch, and it’s not small.

These certifications aren’t just about skills—they’re about control. Once you’re certified, you’re tied to their ecosystem. Switching to another platform like SAP means starting over. It’s called “vendor lock-in,” and it’s deliberate. Salesforce, a $34 billion giant, needs certified workers to keep its machine running. MuleSoft’s no different. Exams cost hundreds of dollars—$200 for an Admin cert, thousands for higher levels—and renewals keep you hooked. Time? Expect 50-100 hours of prep per badge. It’s a treadmill.

Then there’s the LinkedIn parade. Young professionals post their shiny certs, basking in likes. It’s human—we love recognition. But too often, it stops there. This year 2023 a study showed badge-driven learning boosts engagement but rarely sparks innovation. You’re not building a new app; you’re configuring someone else’s system. It’s less freedom, more leash. Years pass, and you’re still chasing the next badge to stay “relevant,” not pushing boundaries.

Are We Becoming Corporate Slaves?

Harsh word, “slaves.” But when you’re stuck in a cycle—spend money, earn badge, post online, repeat—it can feel like one. Corporate culture doesn’t help. It’s all about quick wins: hit KPIs, ship the sprint, move on. Deep fixes? Long reads? They’re not sexy when your boss wants results now. Younger workers see this and adapt—why read a manual when a YouTube explainer’s faster?

Yet, we’re not helpless. In Kannada culture, we’ve always valued vichara—thoughtful inquiry. Think of DVG’s Mankuthimmana Kagga, urging us to reflect, not react. That’s what’s at stake: the ability to think past the noise, to create, not just consume. Certifications aren’t evil—they’re tools. But if we let them define us, we’re handing over our curiosity to someone else’s playbook.

A Call to Reclaim Our Minds

So, what now? Start small. Pick up a book—maybe a Kannada book like Parva by SL Bhyrappa—and savor it. (I am not a big fan of him, but Parva caught my eye) Question the systems you’re in: is that next cert for you, or for them? In meetings, push for deeper fixes, not quick hacks. Share ideas, not just badges, with your peers. On platforms like X, seek out thinkers, not echo chambers.

We’re at a crossroads. We can chase corporate trophies, or we can rebuild our focus, our creativity, our roots. Let’s choose the path that honors the Kannada spirit—one that questions, learns, and grows, not just for today’s job, but for a lifetime of meaning.