Meeting-1
Location- somewhere at the back of Chennai
central
Passing through hectic streets of Chennai
with horrid noises of MTC buses and autos, silly slangy fights infront the
TASMAC shops, hotels along the road with hoardings indicating outlandish names,
“Samudra view palace” ( though sea shores were miles away), walls with
paintings of political leaders riding horses and with swords portraying them as
someone not less than super heroes who descended down on the earth as saviours of mankind, food stalls making all attempts to attract customers to sell their
stale idlis and steaming sambar and confused tourists dragging big trolleys
down the potholed road in search of an affordable lodge, I landed up in a dark
alley. That was the land of scrap dealers, hardly visited by any normal person.
It was late and most of the shops were closed. But from a distance I saw a
feeble light flickering at some corner. I ambled a little distance and saw
something interesting which provoked my slow paced steps to gain some speed. I
saw a lean dark complexioned man, may be in his mid forties, hammering a piece
of iron plate. Aside him, a small girl
was sitting over a pile of card boards, dressed in a sky blue frock, may be her
school uniform with few visible patches near her shoulder that had not been
mended properly, the plaits of her hair were hanging down and were
reciprocating with the movement of her head which played a pendulum infront of
a small lamp. I gazed at her for few minutes and discovered that she was
studying something and was helping her father too. After her father flattens a
plate, she replaced it with next. I went close to her, stooped to know what
actually she was reading and found that she was solving numerical from her
mathematics book…. I smiled, looked at her for a while but she was not paying
much attention. She may have assumed me
to be another customer of her father. She kept on solving the numerical,
counting with her little fingers, which was a little dark may be because of
those rusted iron plates. I felt a little grieved when I saw those tiny fingers
which were meant to work with color pencils and color papers toiling with rust
and hammers at this tender age. Excited,
I asked, “What is your name?” “My name is S.Meena, anna”, she replied with a
special childish lilt in her voice. “What’s your ambition, cutie?” She chuckled
and lifted her head, eye brows arched and looking up into the sky and replied
with a blush, “I want to become a pilot, anna”.
Meeting-2
Location- Howrah-Chennai mail
Train
had just boarded Visakhapatnam… After a heavy biriyani meal, I was standing
near the door to inhale some fresh air that rushes in as the train gathers some
momentum, when suddenly my eyes fell on a small magician wearing a tattered
white shirt, a brown shorts, a pair of torn school shoes whose sole was opening
its mouth everytime he took a step, entertaining the entire bogie with his
tricks. He made flowers appear from his handkerchief, showered glitters from an
empty box, bringing out the same stick unbroken from a pipe which he turned and
bend thousand times. After his performance, he went to each seat with a small
box expecting mercy and pity for his few beautiful acts that everyone enjoyed.
But to my surprise, those people who were watching him a minute ago were all
either deep asleep covering their face with newspaper sheets, became busy on
phone or hurried into the toilet as if they had just realized that their
bladder was going to blast seeing the kid approaching. He succeeded only in filling
the tin box with few coins that made noise, but not enough to fill even quarter
of his tummy. Disappointed, he returned to the door and waited for the next
station where he could catch another train back to his home. I gave him a ten
rupee note but he wasn’t ready to accept it at first. Rather he enquired me if
I had seen his performance and accepted the amount only when he was convinced
that I watched him from a distance. I was attracted by his attitude and honesty
that made me gaze him with more interest. “What is your name Mr. Magician?” “I am Ravi” he replied and soon got busy
packing his bag. When I saw few books inside his bag, I started enquiring about
him. He said that he is doing his eighth class in a government school in his
village. His father serves tea in trains to feed his family which comprises of
a diseased mother and four grown up sisters. That helpless father wants the boy
to work to earn something for his family. But he was always very interested in
studying and even tops in his class. So, everyday he use to go to school in the
morning hour and after returning from school, he gets engaged in his work till
evening… I was listening to him tight lipped when the train whistled abruptly, as
it arrived at a station. All the thoughts that were mounting in my tiny brain
imagining about the struggle he had to undergo each day came to a halt. He got
down the train and waved me bye…the train roared again, acquiring speed. I
shouted out of the running train, “Ravi, what’s your ambition?” “I want to
become an IAS officer…..” he replied with confidence, his eyes were sparkling.
India is a nation where millions of newborn
babies meet their doom in some dirty corner of a government hospital due to the
lack of attention and medicines which costs more than their father’s entire
month wage. Here thousands of kids, though were made to attend the primary
schools with the facility of mid-day meals, sleeps starving the whole night
waiting till next day to fetch some food. And citizens of tomorrow dwelling in
the dank slums, deprived of proper education and guidance not because
government policies failed to reach them but because government educational
policies do not act as a helping hand to fill the stomachs of their family…
They are forced to strive hard for not for better living, just for survival… Work
as domestic servants, work as labors in hotels, industries, constructional
sites carrying tones of loads on their shoulders which are supposed to carry
school bags and lunch boxes.
This is the actual situation of poverty and
education in India, entirely different from that which is shown in the movie,
“student of the year”. Yes, here thousands of Indian juveniles do compete, not
for any student of the year trophy but for food, cloth and education. Here we
don’t find masculine figures coming schools in Mercedes with biceps popping out
of their tight branded shirts and gorgeous ladies roaming around in bikinis,
but we find malnourished lean boys feeling their stomach with the half boiled
rice and dal served at school and the young girls fighting hard to a get piece
of cloth to cover their body. The actual situation is ghastly.
In such a gruesome scenario where someone
meets kids like Meena and Ravi, trying to lighten a small lamp of dream in a hopeless
community, working hard to tear the dark clouds of illiteracy by their sword of
wisdom, he is surely going to get addicted with pride, enthusiasm and
inspiration.
During my plights through the slums, I have
interacted with hundreds of kids living with a dream of becoming doctor,
engineer and administrative officers someday, though in empty stomachs. But the
question is that
“Till how long will they fight for their
dreams with unfilled stomachs?”
“Will Meena and Ravi ever reach their
destination?”
… Till the age of ten…twelve or say
fifteen…then, then will they be able to continue their higher studies? No, I don’t think so….poverty and hunger will
gradually squeeze out all the dreams out of their mind and throw them into the
dark lanes of future where they have to fight for a single penny. Few years
latter Ravi will be forced by his father to take the job for the whole day
leaving his school. After some days he too will forget that he ever attended
school and liked to study. His dream of becoming an IAS officer will soon
disappear into the foggy horizon of a dark future. And Meena…our aspiring pilot
will be forced by her father to marry someone who can take care of her entire
family. She will cry, shout and protest but will finally acquiesce to her father’s
decision. Just a year after her marriage, our future pilot who wanted to fly
high will be pulled down to the earth by the weight of her swollen belly that
will be carrying the desires of a
self-centered man of this patriarchal
society.
Educational policies of the government
should include proper attention to the kids and their families. Economical
upliftment of their families can drag more juveniles into the schools and make
them take education seriously. Along with mid-day meals, provisions for supper
should be made; packed cooked food should be given to them at the end of the
school time in afternoon. Along with the primary education government should
start focusing on higher studies. Though primary education will make difference
in their life but helping them to pursue higher studies to fulfill their dreams
and come up as skilled professionals in different field is very essential.
Primary education can never help them in getting a white collar job that will
result in the development of their family status and shaping of the next
generation which is going to follow them. If government really wants to make
its educational policies effective and bring changes in the long run, it should
start working out on higher and professional studies of young Indians rather
than imparting only the primary education, enabling them to write their own
name to the most and either rendering them unemployed or working as a daily
waged labor.
P.S. let’s take an oath to help millions of kids
like Meena and Ravi achieve their goal. Let’s be a part of their struggle. Many
of us lead a better standard of living. So we don’t realize how lucky we are
because we have everything we want. Graphs and studies show that literacy rate
is improving every year. But let’s wake up… let’s start reading between the
lines of the study statics. A vow made to help atleast one of such kids who
lives in optimistic dreams of professional jobs and respectable standard of
living, when we start standing in our own legs may give renaissance to another
generation.
Kids like Meena and Ravi always makes me
feel that “INDIA IS SHINING”. Hope to meet Pilot Meena and IAS officer Ravi in
future…..
Amit kumar singh
