bhaskar saikia

One of the most powerful questions in the human vocabulary is “Why?”—and yet, most of us stop asking it far too early in life.

We used it freely as children. We questioned everything with an insatiable curiosity:
Why is the sky blue? Why do we sleep? Why can’t I eat cake for dinner?
But somewhere along the path to adulthood, we replaced curiosity with compliance.

And that, I believe, is where we lost a vital key to progress, clarity, and truth.

A Lesson from a Post Office

Recently, a friend asked me to buy 50 revenue stamps. She told me she had been denied the same at a post office in Shillong. The staff there claimed no one was allowed to buy more than 20 stamps. She didn’t question it—she just accepted the rule.

Out of curiosity, I visited the same post office. I asked for 50 stamps. The person behind the counter handed them to me—no questions asked.

That small incident stayed with me. Why didn’t my friend ask “Why?”
Why didn’t she challenge an arbitrary rule that clearly didn’t exist?

It reminded me how often we surrender our agency simply by not asking that one essential question.

Roman Roads and Train Tracks

In Paulo Coelho’s novel The Zahir, there’s a fascinating anecdote about railway tracks. The standard width of modern train tracks—143.5 cm or 4 feet and 8.5 inches—seems arbitrary, until you trace its origins.

It turns out that train carriages were initially modeled after horse-drawn carts, which were built using tools from an earlier era. Why were those carts a specific width? Because they were designed to fit ruts on Roman roads—which in turn were built to accommodate two war horses side by side.

And so, the width of railway tracks in the 21st century is still dictated by the size of Roman horse-drawn chariots.

No one asked why—and so the tradition stuck.

When “Why” Could’ve Fueled the Space Race

Let’s stretch this idea a little further—to outer space.

Back when the U.S. was in the heat of the space race, NASA needed to transport large fuel tanks from Utah to Florida by rail. But there was one big problem: the fuel tanks had to fit through tunnels and rail routes—all based on track widths originally set by Roman chariots, centuries ago.

Engineers could have designed wider tanks that carried more fuel, potentially pushing spacecraft faster and farther. But the ancient Roman standard of 143.5 cm—which dictated the width of railcars—became a very real limitation on modern rocketry.

So, at the height of humanity’s push toward the stars, our ambitions were quite literally boxed in—by the size of two Roman horses.

All because nobody along the way had asked a simple, radical question:
“Why do we still do it this way?”

Churchill, US Traffic and Broken Bones

Even Winston Churchill, the Prime Minster of UK during the WW-II, learned the importance of why the hard way.

In 1931, while visiting New York, he was hit by a car while crossing the street. In Britain, cars drive on the left; in America, on the right. Out of habit, Churchill looked the wrong way—and broke 15 bones.

He probably asked himself, through clenched teeth and cracked ribs: “Why do Americans drive on the right?”

Sometimes, asking why is a matter of survival.

Why “Why” Matters

Why isn’t a nuisance. It’s not a rebellion. It’s a compass.

It’s the question that:

• Challenges blind tradition
• Uncovers truth behind routine
• Leads to better design, policy, systems, and life choices

When we don’t ask why, we unknowingly inherit outdated ideas—some harmless, others costly.

In science, it stalls innovation. In society, it maintains broken systems. In daily life, it leaves us powerless to change what feels “normal.”

So ask it. Reclaim it. Why is your birthright.

Whether you’re standing at a post office counter or standing at the edge of a life decision—don’t just accept what’s handed to you. Ask: Why this way? Why not another? Why not better?

Because sometimes, the most profound revolutions begin not with a protest—but with a quiet, curious “Why?”