The Case for Curiosity

Two trivia enthusiasts explore how wonder fades with age— and why asking questions might be the key to finding it again

- Nipun Jain and Mohit Mamoria

IT WAS AN otherwise dull afternoon, when our three-year-old nephew, gazing into an aquarium, asked, "How much longer will the fish bathe? When will they come out?"

All the grownups in the room looked at one another, smiling at his innocence. But behind the amusement hid a lingering thought: When was the last time we adults asked such weirdly wonderful questions? The answer, felt rather than spoken, made us reexamine everything.

As children, we would stare up at the sky and imagine what it might be like to be astronauts. As adults, we barely notice the stars.

The sky is still there. The stars still twinkle. But instead of marvelling at their beauty and the mystery of the unknown, we ignore it, take it for granted. What turned us from endlessly curious children into impatient, unquestioning adults?

Five words: “That's just how it is.” Again and again, our persistent questions met with this universal reply. Slowly, we began to believe that the world exists in a fixed way for no reason other than that it must.

Why do fish live in water? That's just how it is.

Why do birds fly? That's just how it is.

Why don’t people fly? That's just how it is.

It is a brilliantly convenient answer—one that fits every question, yet explains nothing.

R.I.P. curiosity.