Friday, March 18, 2016

Misplaced Priorities?

8,000 nominees. From 148 countries. Brought down to 50. Then to 10. An Indian teacher, Robin Chaurasiya, gets selected as one of the top ten finalists for Global Teacher Prize. Read, again. Global. Teacher. Prize. How many of you knew that such a prize exist? And how many of you knew that two Indians, Kiran Bir Sethi and Robin Chaurasiya, have made it to top ten in 2015 and 2016, respectively? Well, what can you do if media doesn't report, right? And why would media report if you don't care?

Care. What does this word mean? While I was watching the live telecast of the finale, I had goosebumps to see a representative from India on the dias. Not that I am super patriotic or something. When I talk about India, I don’t really mean the geographical piece of land bordered by the armed men. I mean the society which thrives on this land and challenges and opportunities that it breeds for itself. And in that regard, it was thrilling for me to see Robin Chaurasiya sitting amongst some really amazing teachers from Palestine, United States, United Kingdom, Australia, Kenya, Pakistan, Japan and Finland.

Robin didn’t win the award. And that’s okay. From what I have read, the winner, Hanan Al Hroub, from Palestine seems incredible as well. While I celebrate her victory for the work she does in the tough social, political and economic conditions of Palestine, I am also proud that Robin was in the top ten. And I wish to celebrate that too.

With all my excitement, I opened the newspapers excitedly next morning. The ceremony was mentioned nowhere. It came after one day (really? In this light-speed world of information?). A small section on Hanan in ‘world’ section with no mention of Indian representation. However, on three consecutive days, the same newspaper reported about our filmstars’ being the celebrity guests to this “teacher awards function”. The post event media reports were far and few. Those who reported talked about the trivia of Parineeti’s red carpet moment and Akshay’s selfie with Salma Hayek.

Since then the word, care, has stayed in my mind and heart. What do we care about for ourselves? And what do we care about as a society, a country?

At the award ceremony we had Indian Hindi film stars, Akshay Kumar, Abhishek Bachchan and Parineeti Chopra. While they got their share of limelight for whatever reason, they remained oblivious to the fact that there was an Indian nominee sitting on the stage. Only if they cared enough to recognise her. Later during the post ceremony event when the students of the NGO, Kranti India, approached Akshay Kumar for a selfie, I’m informed, they were almost shrugged off from being photographed. Of course, in later days his selfies appeared in the media with Hollywood stars.

Well, if you are thinking that I am sour for the girls not being able to take a selfie with one of their favorite filmstars, I am not. Because, I think the girls - knowing their stories firsthand - are far bigger stars than any film personality can ever be. Nonetheless, that’s not the point.

The point is, what do we care to celebrate? Pick up a newspaper and scan. You will find we have become (or have always been?) a society that celebrate either trivia or glamor. Please don't get me wrong. I don't have an issue with celebrating glamor if it deserves to be celebrated. Filmstars work equally hard, I hope, if not more, to entertain us and their efforts should be recognised as well - and I think they sufficiently are. My concern is about the fact that even during a teachers' ceremony, we care to celebrate a filmstar’s selfie more than Robin's work in the space of teaching-learning. How do we think we can build and raise a higher collective conscience, knowledge and wisdom if we don't celebrate the work of those who work towards it day in and day out inside and outside their classroom? After all what is celebrated is what gets worked upon. Remember how our school system has for long celebrated rote-learning and academic scores and how that has affected the way children learn in our schools? Here's one woman trying some really alternate methods to educate some of the most marginalised girls, but we are still focused at Akshay's selfie with Salma Hayek! Are we so blinded by glamour that we don't see it? Well, may be yes.

A country which spends a considerable amount of airtime deciding whether not chanting “bharat mata ki jai” is anti-national, a country which has over ten awards functions to celebrate actors but only one, far-lesser-known, national award to recognise teachers, a country where “the money allocated for key centrally sponsored social schemes—Integrated Child Development Services (ICDS),  Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan (SSA or universal education programme) and  National Health Mission—declined 10%, 7.5% and 3.6%, respectively, over two years. Over the same period, money set aside for Swachh Bharat Mission (Clean India Mission) increased almost three times where only 1% of Swachh Bharat Mission money spent on changing attitudes (source)”; it clearly is a state of misplaced priorities.

P.S. - Care to see how some countries celebrate their teachers? Check this.

Saturday, January 30, 2016

The City of Hills and the Sea - IX


In his article, Sri Lanka has much to teach us about civic sense (HT, 31st Jan, 2016), Mark Tully questions, “What can you say about the civic sense of a society which tolerated the death of 3,034 commuters on Mumbai’s suburban railways last year?” Another front page report suggested how Mumbai is choking with pollution levels on rise.



While many claim that India’s intolerance has risen, look at how tolerant we have become to our blindness towards civic responsibilities and a crumbling society, is just amazing. We are more worried about what one says on social media and news channels while we let 3034 mumbaikars die in train accidents in just one city. By the way, these numbers are more than most recent terrorist attacks. In these attacks, the ‘enemy’ is out and known. Who is the enemy that we need to fight who let these train deaths happen or let the city choke with pollution?


Though, the stats almost always give us a macro understanding of things, I think, it’s about us, the individuals. The resident-but-not-resident individuals.

I have lived in this city for over ten years now. Did I intend to? Not really. I had come to this city, like many others, in search of a better education and career choices, but most importantly in search of my individuality, my freedom and my life. Does it resonate with many of you? Oh well! I am not just talking about the biharis and the UP-wallahs, the telugus and the tamils, the mallus and the govans, the sindhis and the bongs; I am even talking about the gujaratis and the maharashtrians. We all have come to this city at some of of time in our ancestral history. I still remember when Dev Tayde, one of the most amazing people I have met in my life, asked in one of his sessions, where are you from. Most people in the group said, Borivali, Chembur, Colaba and Vashi. He asked again, where are you really from. That question in that moment seemed pushy to me. I was like, what the heck, I am from where I choose to be. and I chose to be from chembur, from Mumbai. But over the years, I have found much relevance to this question. A couple of year ago, it struck me, most of us are travellers to this city. This city doesn't become home. We love it, like most travellers do, for what if offers. But our love doesn't come with much responsibility and accountability towards the city. Afterall, its the host who has to keep the house clean once the guests are gone, right? But what about guests, who come to your house forever? But don’t bring the responsibility of this foreverness? And I am talking about all classes - from doodhwala to Diamond merchants, from Bollywood-wallahs to software engineers.

It’s great that our constitution gives us the right to travel around and live anywhere we want in India. However, with this right also comes the duties to rise above personal aspirations and be responsible towards cities, towns and villages we travel to or live in through our lifetime.

These days we all have views. So many views. We all want to be heard. We all almost fight it out when not heard. And it’s important - to have a view and to want it expressed. However, unless our views translate into action, they don’t have much meaning. Sudhir Mishra, in his interview in today’s Brunch, very aptly sums up what I am thinking, “... when people state their views in conversation and not in their work. If you have a political opinion and something upsets you, it's your job to reflect it in your work because that’s where it will have the maximum impact. Tweeting doesn’t fulfill the purpose.”

So, if you are a photographer, think what you can shoot today? If you are software programmer, which code of yours can change the face of this city? If you are banker what services will make many of the social causes so relevant? If you are a policy maker, how will you create right tools for policy implementation and accountability? If you are a cleaner, how will you create sustainable system of cleanliness? If you are a salesperson, what will you sell today? Well, I am just a teacher, and I log off. To go to my sunday class. To teach my young minds with a hope that their aspirations will not only be about their achievements but our collective growth.

Have a lovely Sunday!

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To read the previous posts in this series, you may visit following links:

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Nobodies' Story

"What are you writing about," He leaned from behind and whispered into her ear. The sun had almost turned red and the evening chill was setting in. He caressed her back slowly to the nape.

"About the plumber you can see down there..." she pointed towards the window without looking at him.

"What about him?"

"Well..." she was almost beginning to describe that she paused, smiled and said, “nothing much. Just some trivia.”

“Such as?” he insisted.

She took a moment to decide what part of the narrative she wished to share. Then she casually said, “this afternoon he came home to fix the geyser. Upon finding his pen to be leaking, He asked for one. I couldn’t find one in the house. He then looked around, took off a broom stick and dipped it in the leaking ink. And finished his work.”

“and…?”

“and… that’s it.”

Shashank smiled.

“Why do you write about such mundane, trivial things? You are such a good writer. You have studied journalism from the best college in the city. Why do you not write about important events… significant people? Stories that really matter?”

“So you mean that stories of those plumbers fixing our leakages, housewives cutting onions, a banker dispensing cash day in and day out… these and many such stories don’t matter? How do people and events become important even before they are written about? And if they are already significant, why to write about them? How do we know if a story matters or not even before it’s written, Shashank?”

“Well, who is going to read about these people doing their routine activities?”

“Well I write about common people doing common things with common sense, which is not routine these days you see,” she laughed. She added when she her laughter had turned into a gentle smile, “is being read the only purpose of writing?”

“Ah! well, what else then?”

“What if I tell you that I don’t write to be necessarily read?”

“Then what’s the point?”

“of what?”

“of your writing?”

“why there has to be a point? What’s the point of having a point?”

“well, it gives us the motivation, no?”

“When did I say I need motivation? Don’t I write anyways?”

By now Shashank had moved himself away from Aarti and was lying besides her; his back on the bed and eyes on her face. He longed for that reassuring smile on her face, just to tell himself that he is still in the conversation. She, like always, did smile to offer him that much needed solace and continued, “The goal. Something that we can aspire to achieve. The meaning of life and our actions. The outcome. The result. And the end to the stories we narrate, in books and in our lives. We all desperately long for that illusive end. And when it comes, we mostly remain unsatisfied. We crave for another outcome.... chase for another goal and look for another end. That’s when I ask, ‘what’s the point of it all?’”

The sun was gone.The sky was still red though. Bombay doesn’t get very cold even in late December. Why was he shivering then? Thought, Shashank. Arti turned towards him and gently kissed his palm.

“Hence I mostly write... for the sake of writing.”

She got up, switched on the lights and lit the stove to prepare some tea.





Sunday, November 29, 2015

Closed Doors

Some untold stories..
Some ignored realities...
A few dreams unrealized,
And some, yet undreamt.

Words unsaid.
Love unfelt.
Many lives, half lived.
And some, yet unlived....

This and so much more,
Behind those closed doors...
Only if, 
You could open that damn door...
I have waited on the side... 
for times unknown.




Co-written with Aakanksha Shah.
Photographed by: Aaknaksha Shah