EDUCATION – A LAYMAN’S VIEW

National Education Policy 2020 (NEP2020) has been launched by the Government of India. As is the tradition in the country, an instant debate has ensued. The debate, however, is a bit subdued. The impact of the proposed policy is yet to sink in. In our country, all issues are weighed from a political perspective. One state government, politically opposed to the party in power at the centre, has already raised its voice declaring that the centre could not impose its policy on the states. Other political entities are probably watching the reactions of the public and the educational institutes. They will only take a stand only after feeling the pulse of the public and weighing them against their political agenda. Many political leaders are incapable of taking a stand because of their lack of basic education. There has been a recent instance when two brothers, both school dropouts adorned the offices of deputy chief minister and health minister of a state!

NEP2020 looks good. Of course, my opinion hardly matters. The policy engulfs a few new concepts.

The current system of pre-school or play schools will be under the overall education package. Earlier, this period of infant education was left in the hands of private entrepreneurs.

Students will have the choice of opting out at any stage and be entitled to a certificate confirming the level of their education. This is expected to eradicate the stigma of being branded as a drop out.

Choice of subjects will be flexible.  One can study physics with Sanskrit, mathematics with anthropology and economics with biology. This will cease the categorisation of Arts, Science and Commerce.

The role of the Boards will gradually decline and schools will be empowered to enjoy a degree of autonomy unprecedented in India.

There will be focus on vocational training during the process to ensure job eligibility when one steps out to the professional domain.

Students will also have the option of adopting their mother tongue or any other regional language as the medium of education, up to a certain grade.

So far so good but an irritating question has not been addressed. Will the new policy liberate the students from the curse of the menace called private tuition? It is openly acknowledged that there is a parallel and thriving education system, where the students and guardians get sucked in.

Decades ago, a student, weak in a particular subject sought the help of the teachers outside school hours. The teachers obliged and charged a nominal fee to supplement their meagre salary. A private arrangement between a teacher and student has grown into a profitable business over the years. Teachers are much better paid these days but additional inflow of money is hard to resist. In course of time, the individual enterprise expanded into large empires and adopted a new identity, - Tutorial Homes. Funny enough, guardians resist any hike in school fees and resort to agitation if the school administrations suggest fee increase but they are quiet about similar increase by the Tutorial Homes. These Tutorials earned the reputation of successfully preparing students for entrance examinations to reputed colleges and university and guardians are ready to pay a little extra if needed. The entire scenario exposes a huge credibility gap as far as the schools are concerned. The system implies that the schools are unable to educate their students and guardians are forced to outsource the teachings to unrecognised institutes. Students follow two parallel systems simultaneously with the schools paying minor roles. This additional burden robs the children of their childhood.

Tutorial home are big business. The owners make money. Teachers supplement their income substantially. Students willy-nilly participate in the hope of a lucrative future.

The wrought had gone so deep, it would be a herculean task to uproot the system. Most of these tutorial homes are owned by politicians and their cronies. Therefore, right or wrong, the parallel system will continue to prosper.

Kolkata, 10 September 2020

TRYST WITH DESTINY

It was 14^th August 1945, 15 minutes to midnight. At an industrial town built and maintained by a British Oil Company, a group of Indian professionals and their families gathered around a flagpole. Their faces glowed in excitement and the hot summer wind felt unusually soothing. Nobody complained. Among the group, was a young couple. The husband beamed in anticipation. The young wife stood close to her husband, as if in a daze. A two-year-old baby boy was blissfully asleep on the man’s shoulder.

The senior most man in the group was assigned the honour of hoisting a tri-coloured flag tied strategically at the lower end of the pole.

All were rather quiet awaiting to experience an event they never thought would be possible in their lifetime.

Suddenly, sound of conch-shells from a few houses nearby, signaled the arrival of the historic moment. The senior most man pulled the string. His fingers trembled and eyes went moist as the tri-colour went up and started to flutter in the hot August air.

Everyone burst out in spontaneous cheers and then went quiet, unsure of what to do next. Suddenly, a lone female voice chanting “Vande Mataram” resonated the air, followed by a roar in unison from the rest. It was an extemporaneous act; an act which could have landed them in jail a few weeks earlier.

At that very moment, the young man woke up the baby on his shoulder and lifted him high to draw his attention to the flag. The baby was known to break into deafening wails if woken up prematurely from his slumber. But, that precise moment, he looked around him, squinted at the flag and went back to sleep again.

That baby was me. Yes, I was a witness to that great moment but I have no recollection.

Jai Hind.

Happy Independence Day.

New Jersey, 9 August 2018 

SHASHI KAPOOR

 It was September 1990. I was based in Kuwait, which was under Iraqi occupation those days. Initially, we all were stranded as there was no flight out of the occupied country. Things eased up a little after a while and people were allowed to leave from Baghdad airport. Indian embassy in Kuwait also advised the Indian citizens to evacuate gradually.

 Fortunately, my wife and children were already in India when Iraq invaded Kuwait. I was in a hurry to get back home as I had no communication with them for more than a month.

 On a fateful evening, I, along with a few friends and their families, boarded a bus from Kuwait to Baghdad with the objective of taking a flight out of Baghdad to Amman in Jordan. Air India was operating a few flights from Amman  to Mumbai to evacuate the Indian citizens. The bus ride was quite scary. Damaged cars, burnt buses were strewn alongside the road from Kuwait to Iraq.  There were horrifying stories of atrocities committed by the Iraqi army. Kuwaiti citizens were imprisoned and tortured. They were generally soft with Indians but fear prevailed everywhere. Many Indian expatriates had their cars seized and houses raided.

 The ride out of Kuwait was trouble free. Out first brush with the authority occurred after an hour’s drive. A group of soldiers set up a barricade on the road and stopped our bus. A sinister looking soldier entered with an automatic rifle pointing to the passengers and yelled in Arabic, - Who are you and where are you headed?

 We obviously panicked but managed to murmur; - We are Hindis (Indians in Arabic). The guy’s face softened a bit but his voice had the same authoritarian pitch, - Kullu Hindi (All Indians)?  We mumbled a soft and polite, - Naam (yes). He suddenly smiled broadly, looked around and said, - Shashi Kapoor maujud (Is Shashi Kapoor here)? He broke into a big guffaw admiring his own humour as we smiled nervously. He dismounted and a signalled us to proceed. He was still smiling as the bus left the barricade behind.

The memory of this apparently insignificant event is haunting me since yesterday when the TV channels broke the news.

Rest in peace Shahshi Kapoor.

5 December 2017

NIGHTMARE AT DAWN – AUGUST 2, 1990

Thirty years ago, to date, I woke up on a Thursday morning and discovered to my shock that Kuwait, my host country has been taken over by the Iraqi army, at the behest of Saddam Hussain, their tyrannical leader. It was a weekend, I was planning a day of shopping and planning for my annual travel home in summer. My wife and kids were already in Kolkata and I was to join them the week after.

My first reaction was panic at the possibility my family getting worried sick of my whereabouts. I picked up the phone and dialled; - there was a consistent busy signal. All international communication was suspended. However, I could make a few local calls and reached out to a few friends. I rushed to the supermarket to stock up on food and other provisions to last me a few weeks. I knew my flight next week was as good as cancelled. I checked my wallet and realized I did not have enough money.

The neighbourhood supermarket was chock-a-block with shoppers with an unabashed combative looks on their faces. They were pushing and jostling and snatching chicken, fish, eggs, vegetables grocery from the shelves and piling up their trollies. I even saw two elderly ladies pulling the sole chicken on the rack from two ends. I did not stay back to find out who won. Anyway, all I could pick up was some khubooz (Arabic bread) and a crate of eggs.

It was a very stressful day. TVs went off and our only access to the developments was through BBC. My small transistor radio, which I had rarely used earlier, came handy and kept me updated. I still have that radio displayed on my desk as a token of my gratitude to the small device.

To cut a very long story short, after a lot of topsy-turvy events, turmoil, agony and frustration, I managed to reach home in the middle of September, absolutely penniless. I borrowed an one rupee coin from a stranger to call my wife, who hired a taxi at midnight and came to the airport to rescue me.

May be someday, when I feel like it, I shall summarise my experience for posterity, - my grandchildren.  

THE BRAHMAPUTRA

Every year in mid-summer, news of devastation along the banks of the mighty Brahmaputra reverberates far and wide. Newspaper headlines scream grossly overused catchphrases like unprecedented devastation, thousand homeless, hundreds dead, crops destroyed, etc etc !  Lengthy editorials and comments adorn the pages of the newspapers. The TV channels go shrill, hosting debates by panelists who outshout each other. But a few days later, a new issue with the potential of a higher TRP crops up. A vital issue, nothing short of a national crisis is forgotten.

More than six decades ago, I witnessed a violent devastation and a fearsome erosion of the river’s southern bank in Dibrugarh. I stood stunned at a safe distance away with my parents, my kid sister, my uncle, aunt and their children. There was a road along the river and a magnificent church stood proudly overlooking the Brahmaputra, enhancing its pristine beauty. On the other side of the road were three sprawling bungalows inhabited by the District Commissioner (DC), Superintendent of Police (SP) and the Civil Surgeon. The last named was my uncle. The horrifying sight is still etched in my memory. First the church fell and was dragged away mercilessly followed by the three majestic bungalows. My cousin sister, four years older, broke down as her home disappeared.

Decades later, time stands still. The devastation has become an annual event. I find it hard to believe that no solution could be found till date. India of today is vastly different from the India of the 50’s. Today we are the topmost I.T power in the world. We are on our way to be recognized as the world’s pharmaceutical hub. We sent a satellite to Mars on our first attempt. Our men and women head leading multinationals.  I refuse to accept that no solution could be found. We have a large pool of proven talents, - planners, engineers, architects and what have you. Funds are not a constrain these days; - thousands of crores are being spent on infrastructures around the country. Why can’t there be a concrete plan to solve the problem once for all? What happened to the masterplan of linking all the rivers of India? Can the plan be revived and updated?

It is a national issue. The central/state governments, private enterprises, academicians, civil society, all need to step in, form a team, develop a plan, allocate funds and go for the kill. Let us set a deadline. It can be done. We have the resources.

All we need is an honest will.

Kolkata; 21 July 2020

 

 

 

RANDOM RUMBLE: A FLIGHT FROM TEL AVIV

RANDOM RUMBLE: A FLIGHT FROM TEL AVIV: An earth-shaking event took place on 31 August 2020, which I never thought would be possible in my life time. An Israeli Airlines flight fro...

RANDOM RUMBLE: DOWN THE MEMORY LANE

RANDOM RUMBLE: DOWN THE MEMORY LANE: I was very excited to have received the invitation. It was a landmark event; - A Reunion of batchmates to celebrate the golden jubilee of...

A FLIGHT FROM TEL AVIV

An earth-shaking event took place on 31 August 2020, which I never thought would be possible in my life time. An Israeli Airlines flight from Tel Aviv landed at Abu Dhabi airport with the Israeli prime minister and US president’s son-in-law on board. The kingdom of Saudi Arabia, a staunch adversary of the Jewish state, accorded permission to the crew to overfly its territory.

The scenario was totally different when I came to Kuwait in 1981 to pursue a fresh career. I was gifted a welcome package by my company which, among other goodies, contained a diary. On the inner back cover, there was a prominent map of the middle eastern nations with names of the countries clearly inscribed. However, there was a strip of land adjoining Jordan and Syria, which was unmarked. That was the state of Israel whose existence was not acknowledged by the Arab neighbours. Some other maps identified the area as OAT, meaning Occupied Arab Territory.

Any interaction with Israel was totally prohibited in the Arab countries. An individual with an Israeli entry stamp on his passport would be denied entry in to any of the Gulf Arab states.

In 1984, I went to London on a week-long business trip. The working hours were pretty gruelling. I had some plans for a bit of shopping for my family particularly my two little kids. One of the most popular departmental stores among tourists was the iconic Marks & Spencer on Oxford Street. It was a place which had the reputation to offer good value for money. However, there was a catch. I was warned by a few frequent travellers among my friends and colleagues that one had to be very careful about merchandise from Marks & Spencer, which supposedly had a Jewish connection. If detected by Customs, there was a good possibility of the items getting confiscated. I was advised to chop of the labels. Under the pressure of my professional commitments, I forgot the wise advice and landed back in Kuwait with the labels intact. The Customs ignored my smallish inconspicuous baggage.

Kuwait imported cars from all the major automobile manufacturing nations. The highways were dominated by all makes of American and Japanese cars. Any car with components manufactured in Israel, was banned.

The skirmishes between Arabs and Israelis were frequent and often violent. Palestinian Arabs confined in Israel, which was originally their land, suffered a lot. Among the neighbouring countries, Egypt bore the brunt.  The oil rich gulf countries stayed away from direct conflict and compensated their physical inaction by offering handsome financial packages to Egypt and Syria.

In late 70’s, the president Anwar Sadat of Egypt decided enough was enough. He extended a friendly hand to Menachem Begin, the prime minister of Israel. Begin responded warmly. US president Jimmy Carter played an active role in bringing the two governments to the negotiating table and a historic peace treaty was signed by Sadat and Begin. The world applauded and both the leaders were rewarded with the Nobel Peace Prize.

Well, not the entire world though. Arabs were shocked and accused Sadat of betrayal. The most agonised were the Palestinians who felt totally let down. Their leader Yasser Arafat rejected the treaty outright. Egypt’s neighbour Syria snapped all diplomatic relations with Egypt. The outrage was so fierce, Anwar Sadat eventually fell to assassin’s bullet. His death was gleefully celebrated almost everywhere in the region.

Politics is a funny game beyond the comprehension of ordinary mortals like me. In course of time even Yasser Arafat signed an agreement with Yitszhak Rabin, which assured Palestinian self-rule in the Ghaza strip, which was inhabited by the displaced Palestinians. In return Arafat recognised Israel’s right to exist. The agreement earned the signatories another Nobel Peace Prize.

The peace did not last long due mainly to the lack of mutual trust. Situation worsened after Arafat’s death in 2004. Palestinians attributed his death to poisoning by Israeli authorities. The matter reached stagnation and no immediate resolution was visible.

In this context, the sudden resumption of diplomatic activities reflected by a flight from Israel to UAE caught the world by surprise. The Palestinians were of course upset once again. It is apparent that the Arab world is finally tired of the conflict and decided to initiate a new phase. Realization has finally set in that Israel was here to stay and with full support of the mightiest nation of the world. The current pandemic jolted the oil rich emirates out of their comfort zones. It would be prudent to diversify their economy, where Israel could be a productive partner. UAE citizens have not yet shown any resentment at the decision of their government. According to news reports, cargo flights would commence soon implying launching of trades between the two countries.

Let us be patient and wait for the next step. Probably, members of my generation will live to see regular flights between Tel Aviv and Jeddah.

What about the future status of Jerusalem and the Palestinians? I have no answer.

Let us wait and see.

Kolkata 6 Septmber 2020