Shaken into reacting, and writing!

I'd almost forgotten this blog created long ago... till the other day, when there was a "mini world war" among the friendliest of colleagues I have, including me. 


What triggered off this wordy war, rather vocal war, was a concern expressed on the 25% reservation in schools that the Right to Education  (RTE) Act provides, for "them" in schools that we send "our children" to. 


We the  army kids spoke of the leveling effect that the Kendriya Vidyalayas had given us, a colleague whose husband has lots of projects in the Nizamuddin Basti area announced their decision to see their child--whenever she or he comes into the world-- to  a school there for at least three years. The pros and cons were thrashed out, but now there is only a cease fire--the issue has not been resolved.


 I would like to share my personal experience, that happened very naturally, totally unchartered as it were.  Now as the RTE issue is flaring up, I realized the importance of what had happened, how it could be the model for some of us to follow.


This is the story of the family that generously owned me as  "Aunty" and Didi !
**

“I don’t let them skip school even once. I often tell them that Aunty would threaten to lock me up in the bathroom all day if I didn’t go to school, and scared of that, I’d go. Thank you so much …Bless me and my children”

That was Ritu, mother of three on the phone from Saharanpur, Her firstborn was in class VIII, son Ankur of class six was going to Kota to participate in an all-India quiz contest, and her youngest, a daughter, was in class four. What she said, I’ve quoted verbatim, without translating.
Ritu is the eldest of three children of Om Prakash Menhdiratta and Lakshim. 


Om Prakash, “Bhaiiya” as I call him,was a cycle mechanic, who worked out a box under a tree outside the Tagore Theatre in Sector 18, Chandigarh. Every now and then the Estate Office clearing encroachments would take away his box complete with the tools, and also the odd cycles and cycle rickshaws that were lined up for repair. He would pay the penalty and retrieve his things and restart. 


The family was living in the outhouse attached to the government accommodation I was allotted in 
Sector 19—a fringe benefit of being an accredited correspondent. Lakshmi, the mother of the children, had the keys to my house as long as were all in that house. 


When my sister, Choti and I, went to work, she would ensure the house was opened for the maid to sweep and mop. She would often bring over a katori of karela or aloo-tariwala or whatever she had made, very affectionately. If was the best of food !


Kids being kids, would prance around , throw their things all over the garden, pluck flowers. And whenever I was home, I’d pull them up for anything that is “not done”. And tell them what to do. And that included dealing with  their occasional tantrums,wanting to skip school,or whenever I could hear Lakshmi chasing them to do their homework.

When Choti , a teacher, had tuitions for a few kids, we made Ritu, Kavita and Rahul sit with them . They would then do their homework, with Choti’s one eye on them as well.


About the time Ritu was in class three, Lakshmi shared her concerns over the rising fees of Navjyoti Model School, being run from a house in our Sector 19. She said she was sending them there because it was “private” and “English medium”, words that I saw, were meant only to lure the likes of Lakshmi. Why don’t you move them to a government school? They have English medium sections after class six, and the children will be able to get into those , I told her.

Reluctant first, she agreed. The relief from the burden of high fees made her shift the other two too to the government school in Sector 18, within a couple of years.


When my daughter Mahima  began speaking—it was in English, possibly because I did not make the effort to teach her my mother tongue Tamil(it would have been of little use in Chandigarh), and my Punjabi-speaking husband was in Delhi. There were no grandparents in residence.

Ritu, Kavita and Rahul spoke to her, played with her. Their English became as correct as that of convent going kids.
Lakshmi would always ensure they were well turned out. They learnt it was better to have one good dress or quality pair of shoes than two or three not so good ones. They saw the way my daughter would be dressed for parties.And when our maid left, Ritu Didi and Kavita Didi  began ensuring that Mahima wore a different party frock , and took her for birthday parties. Time , the happy years, flew!


When I was in Delhi for three days on work, I called up Bhaiiya, and told him to rush with my passport. He arrived, but with news in addition to the passport.They had got Ritu, then in plus one married, right in my living room, before she was 18 ! I threatened to take them to police first, and then heard about the how and why of the wedding.


Ritu and her siblings had gone to Roorkie for a wedding in the family. She called up her parents, naturally on my land number—in the pre-mobile days. My daughter answered, the two spoke for a few minutes till Lashmi took the receiver.

 At the other end, somebody was impressed with Ritu’s looks, and the ease with which she spoke English. They got in touch with Bhaiiya, said they did not want a thing, not even a traditional wedding, but only to drape Ritu in a red saree and take her home as their daughter in law.

Bhaiiya, who was recovering from a painful dog-bite  case, had agreed because he did not know if he would live to see his children “settled”.


Kavita has since done her Masters in Commerce, and was working in a telebanking set up when she got married. Now because she wants something more stable, and with a pension, “I’m giving my B.Ed exams”, she told me.


Rahul’s ITI diploma led him to start his own business that includes repairing electrical goods and mobile phones.
For their work in recharging prepaid cell phones and telemarketing insurance products, Kavita and Rahul have received many incentives—split ac, flat screen television, washing machine and food processor. 


When I left the government house in 2001, Bhaiiya sold an old house in a colony, and bought a tiny place in Sector 19. They demolished it and built a  modern house that was in keeping with the times. 
Some of my friends, who go with me to Lakshmi’s house in Sector 19, are surprised that I should choose to go there. But when they meet the children, hear them, they are unabashedly amazed.Lakshmi tells them it is because of “Didi” – me. I am humbled and happy. I am also convinced that is the best way of bringing up anyone from the underprivileged section. We all have somebody like Ritu ,Kavita and Rahul in our neighbourhood.

A modified version of each one teach one, doing in by keeping them with you. The forced RTE may not achieve this.