An assortment of about fifteen kids are seated in front of me. All supposedly fifth and sixth graders. The syllabus mandates me to read out to them a story and ask them questions based on it. Something akin to the reading comprehension questions that we solve. I set off in my task in reading out a para and asking the one in the third row a very simple question. His poker faced response immediately states he’s not got a word of what I’ve been talking. Same applies almost every other kid out here. I break up the sentences now to see if that helps them. Still the same response. I finally check to see if they at least know the individual words in the sentence. Turns out that NONE of them are even able to appreciate the presence of a ‘the’ in the sentence! Besides, when asked to translate a statement like – ‘This is my uncle Kishan’ to telugu, I get the weirdest responses imaginable! They do not know the difference between ‘Buying’ and ‘Going’! Teaching them to decipher paragraphs is way too optimistic.

The next hour or so goes in asking them to echo back just four sentences, asking them to focus on my lip movement and giving them a suitable transliteration. With small role plays I try to engage them to capture the essence of what was being talked about in the book. They soon seem to be liking the whole concept and cheerfully engage each other sheepishly shouting broken English sentences. The misplaced it’s, the’s and she’s don’t matter a dime but as they chorously repeat what I read out from the book, I find it hard to digest the fact that these kids do not have access to even basic primary education. These kids from the Arundati Upper primary school have just three people to teach them-Two ladies [ One who is just recuperating from an operation and the other being the Head mistress] and a septuagenarian gentleman who’s been voluntuarily teaching them for the past two years. The community that runs this school wants to raze this down and build a complex here instead. That would equate to about 100 of these kids losing one last oppurtunity to get a hold on their lifes. Imagine one of your kids/nephew/niece to be in their shoes. Wait, they don’t even have shoes to walk in!

Estb. by the community about fifty years back they have kids from class 1 to 7. There’s a fan or two in the building with no Power to run them. The dripping roof of the two or three rooms that constitutes this school would satiate the thirst of the kids directly in monsoon. A couple of ayah’s[Read girls probably in their 9th or 10th grade] take classes for the kids in the lower grades!The kids come here to the school for the sole motivation of the mid-day meal that the government provides them or should i say – ‘supposedly’. The kids who’re in the fifth and sixth grade in no way can match any regular third grade kid from the other regular schools. Those who move out from the school, I understand discontinue their education and take up a mechanics job or other petty things.

As I head back home with a ‘Telugu’ medium math text book to understand what I’ll have to teach them next week, the vicious reality still remains blaring out there on the immense hurdle ahead of them and more so the onus on us to give them their basic right to education.

Drop in a mail to info.hyd@aashayeinfoundation.org if you could spare a couple of hours in the weekends! We need your help!

21:00hrs. The much anticipated friday evening is right here. The screeching bus and incessant traffic honks for the past two hours or so aid in a poignant continuation to the so called semi-annual meet at work. My weary mind slowly starts easing out as I get down from the bus and walk back home from Habsiguda cross-roads. As I enter the colony, a waft of breeze somehow seems to carry away all issues with it and slowly the ambience sinks in.

Looks like there’s been a decent shower in this part of the city and as is characteristic, there seems to be no power. The colony surprisingly seems to be pretty silent. The central garden which otherwise is paraded by health conscious people and of late couples, seems to have no visitors today. There’s not a soul on the road. No kids wailing, no dogs barking. All of a sudden, it all looks as if I’m the only one living in this society. The roads seem to be much wider and all that illuminates it is the moonlight making its way down here through dense clouds. A gentle drizzle starts and as Henley’s ‘Hotel California’ from my music player echoes down my ear canal, I somehow feel the drizzle giving lfe to the stoic road. It’s like I’ve found company for my walk back home.

For some weird reason, my thought process catapults me back to this realization. This is probably the second shower that we’ve had since the monsoon has supposedly begun. The Met center forecasts a below normal rainfall this year and in ways relating this to what the people in Jibhi had mentioned about the lack of snowfall for the past two years, somehow brings out a chill down my spine. I desperately seek to ward this thought off but the truth still remains. It’s all just a game of Dave. Knowingly or unknowingly we’re jumping from one foothold to another in search of the unknown or in the quest for that final destination; quite obliviously disregarding what we’re leaving behind. The real question is how much fuel would be left, as we pass on the torch of life to the forthcoming generations.

When I was a kid, I had a fancy for bikes and cars. I in fact dreamed of becoming a cab driver one day! Today I literally feel like showing my third finger to people out here who commute alone even for short distances in their personal vehicle. My friends and relatives, all the more. People, If you think you’re saving time[and money] in commuting on your own vehicle to work and back; believe me you’re no wiser than a 10year old kid. It pains to see so many so called knowledgeable people depleting resources in thin air for nothing at all. The other day, I was going through a very interesting presentation on how road traffic could be starkly reduced if even fifteen percent of the current vehicular population shifts to Public transport. Lesser noise, lesser pollution and quicker transit. What else could you ask for? Damn, I lose a fucking five hours a day in travel! At the end of the day, It’s not the work that tires me. It’s this pollution and noise during the travel that fatigues me out. At times, I wonder why we humans fail to pick the baton and walk the talk when we have the solution right in front of us. It’s just about getting the wheel rolling. Just a minuscule change in the way you do your day to day activities for the good of everyone around you. Who cares?

The power suddenly fires up in the electric wires above me and then in minutes, the colony is back to life. There’s a sudden flurry of activity. Kids suddenly pop from nowhere, A baby starts wailing out of the blue, there’s this Pressure cooker whistling out – all just like a tape being re-winded and suddenly played. And in all this cacophony, someone’s voice just gets subdued.

At times, it pays to listen to the road talking.

Written on June 27th, 2009 , rambles Tags: , ,

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