I have spent the last 22 months laughing off those who tell me people can't change. That anything I'm doing is for naught. Today, for the first time, I began to think that maybe they are right.
We've been running a summer camp for 11th & 12th class students. A lot of the students are extremely intelligent and show potential. In spite of the fact that they are a rowdy group, I have been able to convince myself that these students are not taking advantage of us; that they are not there for "time pass".
I think I ran out of steam. A group of the "Bhaktavpura Boys" showed up at a screening of Sholay that we hosted. It was nice to see them there. Like I said, they have impressed me. But, as I stepped out to get something to eat, I saw them hanging out in their jeep - something that usually indicates an "up to no good" activity. I can't explain why I couldn't rationalize their behavior. I forgot that they are 17 year old boys; that they still have time to "grow up." All I know is that any good feelings I had accumulated from the past week quickly escaped, leaving me deflated. Any belief that I had held on to; any hope that I had that we could change the direction of their lives - gone.
And because I'm so emotionally invested; because I know what they are capable of, it hurts.
I had big dreams for them.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Carpe Diem
After coming to India, I had promised myself that I would ride on top of a bus. On Sunday, I kept that promise.
A colleague suggested that we take a day trip to Mandawa to see the havelis [these Indian mansions are especially famous in the Shekhawati region and are characterized by the wall paintings]. So, after stocking up with Mridul water, sunblock, and an extra set clothes (in case we found the elusive Mandawa swimming pool), seven of us set off.
Upon arriving in Mandawa, we opted to not hire a guide. We were very fortunate to find people at each stop who were ready to show us around. One guide was the owner of the haveli who happened to be visiting Mandawa for a few hours. He was extremely excited to see us because he usually shows foreigners around - very few Indians have shown interest in the havelis. He also gave us an aloe vera plant that has been planted in our garden.
It was around 8:00 by the time we decided to head back. But there were no buses! Continuing with our lucky streak, we ran into a bus driver and conductor who were finishing up their route for the night, but agreed to take us until Jhunjhunu.
And this is where I saw my chance! The bus was practically empty and was not in any particular hurry. I asked the conductor if we could sit on the top of the bus - a place usually reserved for men when the bus is extremely full. Naturally the conductor thought we were strange, but he agreed. So up we went!
By this point, the camera we had brought along had run out of battery. But the image is still clear and focused in my memory: the expanse of the road ahead of us, the moon draped in cloud-mist, the quick glimpses I got of the jhompdis [Rajasthani huts] on the side of the road as we whizzed by...
It was a special moment for me because one thing I have been trying to adopt is a sense of fearlessness - no, I'm not going to start going bungee-jumping every chance I get. Rather, I'm trying to adopt a state of mind that allows me to avoid those "what if" moments. I wasn't scared about sitting on top of the bus. But the fact that I just went for it; that I recognized the moment and grabbed it...that's pretty momentous for me.
As if nature could feel my adrenaline levels bursting, it sent some crazy weather our way. We spent another night in a sandstorm. To top it off, there was also hail! In May! In Rajasthan! Did I make my point?
I am determined to incorporate the doctrine of carpe diem into my life. Naturally, it's a scary transition. But Sunday was proof that it is worth it.
No regrets.
A colleague suggested that we take a day trip to Mandawa to see the havelis [these Indian mansions are especially famous in the Shekhawati region and are characterized by the wall paintings]. So, after stocking up with Mridul water, sunblock, and an extra set clothes (in case we found the elusive Mandawa swimming pool), seven of us set off.
Upon arriving in Mandawa, we opted to not hire a guide. We were very fortunate to find people at each stop who were ready to show us around. One guide was the owner of the haveli who happened to be visiting Mandawa for a few hours. He was extremely excited to see us because he usually shows foreigners around - very few Indians have shown interest in the havelis. He also gave us an aloe vera plant that has been planted in our garden.
It was around 8:00 by the time we decided to head back. But there were no buses! Continuing with our lucky streak, we ran into a bus driver and conductor who were finishing up their route for the night, but agreed to take us until Jhunjhunu.
And this is where I saw my chance! The bus was practically empty and was not in any particular hurry. I asked the conductor if we could sit on the top of the bus - a place usually reserved for men when the bus is extremely full. Naturally the conductor thought we were strange, but he agreed. So up we went!
By this point, the camera we had brought along had run out of battery. But the image is still clear and focused in my memory: the expanse of the road ahead of us, the moon draped in cloud-mist, the quick glimpses I got of the jhompdis [Rajasthani huts] on the side of the road as we whizzed by...
It was a special moment for me because one thing I have been trying to adopt is a sense of fearlessness - no, I'm not going to start going bungee-jumping every chance I get. Rather, I'm trying to adopt a state of mind that allows me to avoid those "what if" moments. I wasn't scared about sitting on top of the bus. But the fact that I just went for it; that I recognized the moment and grabbed it...that's pretty momentous for me.
As if nature could feel my adrenaline levels bursting, it sent some crazy weather our way. We spent another night in a sandstorm. To top it off, there was also hail! In May! In Rajasthan! Did I make my point?
I am determined to incorporate the doctrine of carpe diem into my life. Naturally, it's a scary transition. But Sunday was proof that it is worth it.
No regrets.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
An observation...
The hurricane in Myanmar. The earthquake in China. The blasts in India. All happening in one week and all exposing the best and the worst in people.
These tragedies strengthen our resolve to survive; suddenly remind us that there is a world beyond the one we know.
It's a bittersweet tendency that we allow ourselves to see the positives that come out of such horrible events; a coping mechanism that we use when we feel helpless.
My heart goes out to any one affected by the events of this past week...
These tragedies strengthen our resolve to survive; suddenly remind us that there is a world beyond the one we know.
It's a bittersweet tendency that we allow ourselves to see the positives that come out of such horrible events; a coping mechanism that we use when we feel helpless.
My heart goes out to any one affected by the events of this past week...
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Learning English: Creating opportunities - but at what expense?
Like many young people in Bagar, Vidyadhar is looking for a job. This past Sunday, he came to our office to get a print out of the form he needs to apply for a constable position in Delhi. The application is completely in English and the post requires some English. Vidyadhar doesn't have a chance.
I was resistant to starting English classes at GDL. I believed it to be a statement that GDL recognized English as superior. Thankfully, objectivity won over selfish ideologism and I've finally come to terms with the fact that English has become the "global language." I realize that it is my responsibility to expose the people in my community to opportunities. Teaching English does that.
But, the following facts really bother me:
1) English is considered "superior." This is due to the fact that knowing English results in more and better paying opportunities. But it's a dangerous and damaging opinion. One that creates gaps within Indian society and devalues
heritage and culture.
2) It is EXTREMELY difficult for someone from certain backgrounds to become conversant in Hindi. The English teaching I have seen - both at schools and in institutions specifically set up to teach English - is not effective. English teachers need to go through refresher courses of their own and there needs to be more awareness regarding best practices in teaching a language.
3) There is an information gap. Knowing English opens up many doors because so much information is in English. On many occasions, students have asked me various career-related questions such as "what [they] need to complete a certain degree," or "what is the scope in a certain field." These are questions whose answers I easily find on the internet. One of my biggest value-adds to Bagar is that I know English and can surf the net. I know a few of my peers were talking about addressing this issue, and I hope something is still in the works.
It makes sense that people value English. But how does one promote other languages? Two questions I would like to conclude this post with:
1) How does language affect identity at an individual level?
2) Aside from what it can do for us financially, what motivates us to respect English or any other languages?
I was resistant to starting English classes at GDL. I believed it to be a statement that GDL recognized English as superior. Thankfully, objectivity won over selfish ideologism and I've finally come to terms with the fact that English has become the "global language." I realize that it is my responsibility to expose the people in my community to opportunities. Teaching English does that.
But, the following facts really bother me:
1) English is considered "superior." This is due to the fact that knowing English results in more and better paying opportunities. But it's a dangerous and damaging opinion. One that creates gaps within Indian society and devalues
heritage and culture.
2) It is EXTREMELY difficult for someone from certain backgrounds to become conversant in Hindi. The English teaching I have seen - both at schools and in institutions specifically set up to teach English - is not effective. English teachers need to go through refresher courses of their own and there needs to be more awareness regarding best practices in teaching a language.
3) There is an information gap. Knowing English opens up many doors because so much information is in English. On many occasions, students have asked me various career-related questions such as "what [they] need to complete a certain degree," or "what is the scope in a certain field." These are questions whose answers I easily find on the internet. One of my biggest value-adds to Bagar is that I know English and can surf the net. I know a few of my peers were talking about addressing this issue, and I hope something is still in the works.
It makes sense that people value English. But how does one promote other languages? Two questions I would like to conclude this post with:
1) How does language affect identity at an individual level?
2) Aside from what it can do for us financially, what motivates us to respect English or any other languages?
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Fashion Shows AND Farmers' Suicides - Part II
This is a quick post in response to the comments to my previous post. My point was that the perceived gap is just going to increase if journalists choose to focus on Fashion Week. BUT recognizing that this is what sells, why not use this as a forum to facilitate understanding of serious issues like the suicides?
Furthermore, I strongly believe that as long as Vidarbha seems like a different world to the people who are more interested in Ritu Kumar's new line (yes, I know who Ritu Kumar is), they're not going to feel compelled to try to understand what is going on, what it means, or how they can help. It will always be someone else's problem.
I came to rural India because I recognize it as a part of who I am. Maybe it's because I didn't grow up with the idea of two Indias. Based on discussions I have had with people in the cities, however, I'm not sure many people in "that" India see rural India as part of who they are. This is a divide that I feel journalism can help eliminate.
Furthermore, I strongly believe that as long as Vidarbha seems like a different world to the people who are more interested in Ritu Kumar's new line (yes, I know who Ritu Kumar is), they're not going to feel compelled to try to understand what is going on, what it means, or how they can help. It will always be someone else's problem.
I came to rural India because I recognize it as a part of who I am. Maybe it's because I didn't grow up with the idea of two Indias. Based on discussions I have had with people in the cities, however, I'm not sure many people in "that" India see rural India as part of who they are. This is a divide that I feel journalism can help eliminate.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Fashion Shows AND Farmers' Suicides
In his column for Mint ("Media and Moral Outrage"), Salil Tripathi defends Indian journalists against criticisms made by fellow journalist P. Sainath.
Although Tripathi's main point is that journalism needs to be objective, what struck me was his his response to Sainath's judgment that stories about fashion shows and the like are "frivolous." Tripathi writes that:
"By juxtaposing a fashion event with the Vidarbha farmers' suicides, Sainath is pitting the so-called India against Bharat, or "shining" India versus "declining" India. Far from solving any problem, it accentuates an unnecessary divide."
This is the most insightful comment in the column and inspired me to delve more deeply into the role of journalism in a society such as India's, which is rapidly evolving and, as a result, trying to figure out its identity.
After having lived in rural India for more than a year, one of my biggest frustrations has been the lack of synergy. Bagar, the town in which I work, has 35 educational institutions. Yes. 35. But Bagar is case and point that quantity does not always equal quality: Students float from school to school. So do teachers. Student attendance is not consistent. I mean, this list could go on and on. And these are not problems unique to Bagar.
The problem is an unhealthy level of competition. Unhealthy in the sense that the competition does not result in an improved product (education). I have yet to hear someone say that schools should work together because they share a common purpose.
That's what came to mind when I read the above passage. How can India improve if its two identities are constantly treated as that: two separate, isolated identities? Imagine the possibilities if the two Indias felt a loyalty to each other not because they are technically one, but because they FEEL like one.
In today's India(s), I think journalists have a very important mission: to remind EVERYONE of the common purpose.
Although Tripathi's main point is that journalism needs to be objective, what struck me was his his response to Sainath's judgment that stories about fashion shows and the like are "frivolous." Tripathi writes that:
"By juxtaposing a fashion event with the Vidarbha farmers' suicides, Sainath is pitting the so-called India against Bharat, or "shining" India versus "declining" India. Far from solving any problem, it accentuates an unnecessary divide."
This is the most insightful comment in the column and inspired me to delve more deeply into the role of journalism in a society such as India's, which is rapidly evolving and, as a result, trying to figure out its identity.
After having lived in rural India for more than a year, one of my biggest frustrations has been the lack of synergy. Bagar, the town in which I work, has 35 educational institutions. Yes. 35. But Bagar is case and point that quantity does not always equal quality: Students float from school to school. So do teachers. Student attendance is not consistent. I mean, this list could go on and on. And these are not problems unique to Bagar.
The problem is an unhealthy level of competition. Unhealthy in the sense that the competition does not result in an improved product (education). I have yet to hear someone say that schools should work together because they share a common purpose.
That's what came to mind when I read the above passage. How can India improve if its two identities are constantly treated as that: two separate, isolated identities? Imagine the possibilities if the two Indias felt a loyalty to each other not because they are technically one, but because they FEEL like one.
In today's India(s), I think journalists have a very important mission: to remind EVERYONE of the common purpose.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
The initiation
Well, I've managed to stay away from the blogging bandwagon for so long. But that's no reason to keep on resisting. This decision to start this blog is a result of many factors including:
a) the realization that if I do want to explore a career in writing, I'm going to have to share some of my work
and
b) the fact that the last 18 months have been life-changing and it's a complete shame that I have very little documentation of them
Good enough reasons, don't you think?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
A major reason for the resistance has been that a lot of the blogs I read have a theme, a purpose. I am yet to identify my purpose, my path. BUT, as my blog title suggests, I feel like I am about to get there. So maybe that's what this blog is about.
My optimistic thought of the day: if I do finally make it past this cusp, do I get to change my blog title? I guess I'm getting a little ahead of myself.
But anyway, here I am: aspiring journalist, changemaker, fashionista, educationist.
a) the realization that if I do want to explore a career in writing, I'm going to have to share some of my work
and
Good enough reasons, don't you think?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
A major reason for the resistance has been that a lot of the blogs I read have a theme, a purpose. I am yet to identify my purpose, my path. BUT, as my blog title suggests, I feel like I am about to get there. So maybe that's what this blog is about.
My optimistic thought of the day: if I do finally make it past this cusp, do I get to change my blog title? I guess I'm getting a little ahead of myself.
But anyway, here I am: aspiring journalist, changemaker, fashionista, educationist.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)