Saturday, October 06, 2012

It’s We Parents and Teachers Who Create Raggers Out of Our Children

I am sure that after reading the heading, everyone must be restless to know how? But have some patience. It’s a story I repeat often. And I must repeat it again today. As a child, I remember having considerable friends in school. I am sure everyone has. But my friends’ circle from the very beginning had a specialty – it had only those people who were all very, very good in studies. If you are wondering how, the answer to that is in the place I used to stay, and still stay; a locality called Chittaranjan Park in New Delhi. This was originally that locality in Delhi where all those who had gotten displaced from Bangladesh during the partition were given a place to settle down. So, it used to be called the ‘EPDP colony’ i.e. East Pakistan Displaced Persons’ colony. This locality had its very special characteristics – maybe someday I will write about them all – including the one I referred to; i.e. it gave me, during my very early childhood, a group of friends who were all toppers! Being a locality of mostly lower middle class displaced people, the relatively well-to-do amongst them – that is, those who were middle class – managed to put their children in public schools like mine – the reputed Delhi Public School (DPS) – and believed the only way out of this lower middle class or middle class existence was to be exceptional in studies. Of course, coupled up with the Bengali orientation towards arts and literature, our locality produced some of the most brilliant students for our school. So, if our school had 15 buses and 150 scholar badge holders (the ones who excelled in studies), I believe more than a fifth of those students used to go in the bus that used to go through CR Park. My father being a teacher, he attracted friendship with all those parents whose children were toppers; and that’s how most of my friends were exceptional in studies!

It’s a different story – again to be told some other day – that as I grew up in life and started making friends of my choice, I changed this very friends’ circle. But for now, for this editorial, I will stay with the story of these friends. Lower middle/middle class. Very good in studies. From timid Bengali art and culture loving families. And typically weak built, as most Bengalis were and still are. If someone were to have told me then that these boys would go on to become partial murderers of the Aman Kachroos of this country, I would have shouted “impossible” at the top of my voice. They were/are from good families. Toppers of their respective schools and classes for heaven’s sake; and most importantly, of such weak built that they couldn’t even have harmed a fly! But as time unfolded, I saw just that happen in front of my eyes. They went on to become the topmost raggers of this country. Here is the story how.

I remember how these boys studied like crazy. Their aim was to top in the class. And being the son of a teacher, who knew something about education, I used to be surprised at what my friends were doing. My father had always told me that it was not important in life to get high marks. He told me to be good – again, the emphasis was not on high marks but on expansiveness of reading – in English and Maths as that was all that mattered in life. Rest, he asked me to do what I loved doing; and to develop passion. So luckily, I had a relaxed childhood and grew up really loving my father. His support for my endeavours was my biggest strength. And he was always questioning things himself. I remember when I was in class 1 or so – yes, some memories remain etched in your mind – when one night at 12 my father picked up the phone and gave a piece of his mind to our school principal. He was seething with anger that the school had given so much homework that I hadn’t been able to finish the same on time. I remember him criticising our schooling system, weighing my bag every now and then, and getting furious with anger seeing it weighing so heavily on my back. And while my father advised me not to run after marks, he did motivate me to read books. He once said, “Read so that those scholar badge holders feel ashamed of their lack of intellect when they talk to you.” And I spent my childhood reading and reading and reading more books. I didn’t get a scholar badge, still, I have no guilt because my parents never expected one. And today, I thank God that I didn’t get one. That’s why I know what education is about.


Source : IIPM Editorial, 2012.

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