Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Special Post 1

In Feb 2008, I attended a course organized by the Art Of Living Foundation. Writing about the course and how it has changed me will require another long post. Here, my teacher writes about a school started by his efforts in a tribal village near Benares.

Both the writer and the cause make this the first special guest post on my blog.

The Birth of a Tribal School…

The true story of Rajesh Jagasia, an Art of Living volunteer in Benares, India

Many moons ago, it was yet another broiling day at school and I went to meet a professor of mine to acquaint him with the service projects of Art of Living on campus. He was completely in agreement with the vision and asked me to accompany him to a tribal village nearby.

I acceded to the request immediately, but little did I know that I had signed a bond of love for many years to come.

We fixed a Sunday evening, now four years ago, placed ourselves into a vintage Mahindra jeep and sped past beautiful paddy fields and ancient trees.

The terrain quickly changed from plain lands to thick forests, with armed men appearing. Totally unaware of the facts and figures then, I wondered why the government would spend so much money to have so many armed men posted in the middle of the forest. Despite the beauty of nature, such as flowers, trees, villagers eyeing our jeep and children frolicking, and even the fresh air, there was something which whispered the rancidity of life.

The path had become thinner but the bushes were getting thicker. The Jeep stopped at a village called Aurwan Tand in front of a small hut I began to wonder – Does human life exist here? I was introduced to a very feeble, scrawny woman who was the head of the village. My refreshments included water, rice water and some sliced onions to quench my appetite.

Still oblivious to the purpose of my visit, I ogled the village and surroundings. I was totally unaware of what I was getting into. The village with 100 families looked so beautiful and vibrant amidst thick trees, mountains and I, like an inquisitive bird warbling away, didn’t know that love at first sight had become a reality in my life!!

The entire government seemed to be suffering from collective laryngitis and a bold initiative was required to get a small town with three different tribes cured of their chronic problems. An abject failure of policies, leadership and projects had dehydrated this tribal land.

The children wanted to be naxalites [Communist extremists with violent tendencies, a serious threat to India’s stability], with 400 operative naxalites amidst them, whose needs prevailed over people around the villages. Water was a luxury and the inhabitants existed on onions and rice for life. They wept. They waited. They survived. I sat outside the hut and could not comprehend why thousands and thousands in taxpayer money would not reach here. The reason was they were unaware of their rights, unaware of democratic strength and unaware of the power of prayer.

This small village with many more around it seriously grieved. It was wounded. It wanted a rescue.

I immediately decided to act and do something amidst the busy traveling that I was scheduled to do for months. I wrote to Sri Sri, asking for guidance. Within minutes there was a reply as short and strong as possible. He replied “Start a school there.” His words were final for me. I knew there will be a new lease of life.

With spirited encouragement and Sri Sri’s blessings, I decided to take up a dilapidated school in the premises and reopen it with a new name and committed vivacity – Sri Sri Vidya Mandir.

Integrating an education system amongst the tribal people is a challenging and humungous task, as no one is educated, nor are they connected with the outside world, to know the laser effect of schooling. The school was quietly started with prayers and intentions, initially with no funds at hand, nor any students committed to learn.

The impetus that the children had in the beginning was mid-day meals, as many suffered from malnutrition. The delicious baked rice with lentils were never eaten by the children at school, however hungry and deserted their stomachs were. Instead they took it home to share it with their parents and younger siblings, so that they also could breathe for one more day. Live for today. There were many hunger deaths in that year in the village.

The school started. These three words are so easy to write now, but there were many commas, question marks, semi-colons and sometimes exclamatory marks but never a full-stop between these three dreamy words. These days there are classes which teach how to be a mother, how to tie a diaper etc, but my experience in running a school was like being a baby looking at three twin sisters, and deciding which is his real mother. The decisions had to be quick and correct, involving the village, the children, the society and the education system.

The village was riddled with Naxalism and just meters away the government had pumped in money to the tune of 100 crores [about 22 million dollars] to fight naxalism, cutting the branches of the problem not uprooting it. By contrast, to the peaceful and nourishing words, nature attunes itself and aligns itself. It happened. I saw it happening.

With two committed teachers who decided to dedicate years of their life for this school, the school re-commissioned. The children slowly and steadily gained interest in different subjects and we affiliated it to the National Open Schooling. Small girls and boys would wake up early morning and begin their journey, their destination some 4-5 km away, but the dedication was deep and intense, their faith tremendous.

The day would start with folded hands to convey gratitude, progress into the depths of science and floated upwards with spirited enthusiasm of football and volleyball. Within months the lives of 64 children were blossoming, induced with doses of maths, geography, science and history. They wanted more, and soon there were small Dhoni’s and Bhutia’s giving brief appearances of hitting a four or a penalty corner on the mountain terrains of Aurwan Tand.

The blue school dress provided uniformity amongst the different caste systems prevalent, the prayers injected faith. The studies established information, attitude, concepts as well as love, instilled survival, care and trust. This school with no electricity or water initially, became a symbol of the power of love and service that the society gifted to Aurwan Tand. They had dreamt. Now it was a reality.

Naxalism evaporated from this village, with many joining the mainstream. The water tap came to our doorstep. The armed guards took regular breaks in the evening over chai and biscuits and there has not been a single hunger death in over 4 years. Malnutrition melted away and we now have strong men and women on their way to success. Set amidst the forests, the people of this village carry innocence, grace and humility. To reach this insignificant village, one has to travel 90 km from Benares. If you can withdraw your attention from the scenic landscape long enough to know you have arrived, you might reach this tiny place.

While every single day proved to be a challenge to the core, the pillar of prosperity has been established and the sordid saga of this village and villages adjoining it has been lifted. There are many real characters who make this sentimental series into a funny movie, in retrospect. Shruti the principal, Ramavatar and Ramlal the teachers, Pavan, Anoop, Ruchi to name a few. They were determined. They were undeterred. They were patient. Love Prevailed.

--- Excerpted from the experience of Rajesh Jagasia

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