Memoirs

Dating back to my early teen years, I could passionately recollect,  all my hopes and aspirations were thoroughly supported by my very conspicuous vigour and vibrancy. And, I presumed I was in-charge of my life, and happiness seemed granted. Books, along with loving, caring family and friends were my companions. Though waking up early to birds chirping was thrilling… those street vendors knocking on our doors with fresh, organic, non-GMO veggies, then felt disturbing and the paper boy hurling the newspaper totally distracting me, sounded interfering. The postman’s appearance felt intruded into my private space as my dad would receive a dozen letters everyday!!! An emotional reminiscence made me feel touched as I have had the best childhood. Now, stuck in a motor-jungle, communications are hyped to a different level- a gentle horn is a hello and a big horn is for  anger. Mostly people are associated with their car numbers and everyone is tied up in a busy daily schedule. In this part of the world, big parties hosting a minimum of fifty families over weekends is the norm. Whether every guest is greeted or not is not even the basis of a social get-togethers. Those street vendors’ affectionate smug can be traced back in my search for the healthy foods in shopping malls where plastic cards do all the exchanges and organic food is far and beyond my reach. Forget Non-GMO’s. …The post man wouldn’t be knocking on my door anymore but letters, well, mostly sales and marketing flyers and our monthly bills are left in a box at bay. 

Back then, physical hand written letters were part of exchanging warmth and birthday wishes  among cousins and classmates, who lived farther or moved places. I moved to England with my husband  in 2004. Until then, all those  twenty- five years of my early life was spent in a small historical, cultural town, Vizianagaram. Both my parents were born in the same place and now, every year I look forward to going to them, to my house, to my town.  After nearly 14 years of my marriage, I still get home sick, I still have the  foreigner-feeling  wherever I am.  My roots are very strong, so are my experiences. My best friend, my maternal grand dad regretted when telephones became part of every household. “If it’s a hand written letter, I will cherish reading my letters whenever I want to, whenever I yearn for that person. These phone wishes take away my happy memories, my best time pass and make me long for my grand kids more”, in his exact words!!  My grand dad was eager to learn about e-mails in 1999 but he didn’t live longer to try that ‘e’spect. I miss my grand dad who was my movie partner, my walking partner, my guide and my stress buster, my wall. I never understood his agony about the then newly forming nuclear families and the repercussions, his usage of cloth bags to reduce plastic/paper wastage, his willingness to walk any number of miles to increase his appetite, his philosophy towards vasudaika kutumbam- whole world as one family – most of his life he had been a great host and rarely a guest. I miss my grand parents’ unconditional love, my grand mum’s innocence, my grand dad’s willingness to accept whatever was thrown at him, with a smile on his face though it caused a pain to his heart. I was part  of the latter emotion, his agony once and I bury my head in disgust when that thought surfaces  my memory. They taught me the importance of relations in life and hence I try and maintain one to one relation with everyone I meet and get to know. I try my best to be an agony aunt to any in need. Many forget me in their happy times. I was back-stabbed many times. Yet,  I trained myself to not change my core.  I am not that weak that any negativity around me could change me.

               I have realised “Life” is in-charge of me!!! Lots have changed…but there are affections beneath all these hustle, bustles.  Fortunately, the world around me is very sane and definitely, love will dominate hatred!!  I am extremely fortunate to have some friends, who are our extended family, who have the hearts of gold and have the Midas touch. Luckily, we  all share the same principles. Love begets love.

Journey of education from fighting illiteracy to a business!

Born in the south of India in an orthodox family in the late 70’s, blessed by a dad who is still revered as a great Telugu and Sanskrit professor, I was raised experiencing every letter of  Archarya devo bhava (Sanskrit for may teacher be your God) along with (Mathru) pithrau devo bhava“, translating to, parents be your God. I belong to a small town, Vizianagaram, where, once, most of the schools and colleges that were established and supported by the local kings: Gajapathis. Also, our town had had a concept of feeding financially struggling students (typically attending a university) both local and non-local, to be able to  pursue their education. These students approach the halls of residences patronised by royalty or the student’s lecturers or any generous people who can afford a meal to these students. The way its done is very unique and inspirational. Benevolent hearts who could feed a student or more can fix on one day of the week, say, Mondays; lunch and dinner at this fixed house, elsewhere on Tuesdays and so on. In my language, Telugu, it is called “Varalabbay”- Varam- any particular day of the week and ‘Abbay–boy! I had seen only boys practising this; may be, only boys were allowed to study in such hard situations – patriarchal society. I still remember such students coming to my house, Mondays & Thursdays. By the time they finished their courses and found a meaningful livelihood, my mother, more than my dad or their own parents,  was the first one they shared their happiness with! Feeding the hunger is the kindest deed one can observe. wonderful memories those were. All this was before the demand vs supply of the education and government interference were minimal.

By mid 80’s, the capitalist approach had slowly entered the education sector and that paved way for the growth of many private schools and colleges. Who can afford what was the hidden motto, worth had taken a second place. I went to my first school run by our family-friends, at the age of two, along with my mum who was a teacher there. For our high-school studies, my dad sent my sister and I to the top Christian missionary school of our times. And we were a handful of children in our area to get such privileged private education. I remember almost every teacher of mine to date and I have learnt something from every one of them and had been many of their favourite too. My teachers  have inspired me, instilled discipline and principles along with the knowledge. Many of my high-school teachers, my undergrad lecturers are ones I owe a lot to. I was also my undergrad college topper. Education was totally a changed scenario by then. It’s grown into a major business sector. Globalisation, awareness, affordability everything stirred up and private schools, colleges, universities mushroomed. So much so that every street has an education institute. Quantity over quality, along with the most dominant factor, caste-based reservations, rule Indian education system. The zeal in students may or many not be appreciated. Teaching profession, mostly, is seen as a means of livelihood and education precipitated into getting a piece of paper called degree. By the time, I started my masters, I must say, there was perceivable digression from education as a pursuit & sharing of knowledge in both the parties, students and lecturers. On my part, that was the major regret in life. I must stress there are still who teach with passion for knowledge and mould a student’s life for better. I bow to those, only  those.

Moving to England, it was very interesting to see a deviation from the hierarchical structure. Yet, I  learnt a lot from my managers and colleagues. But I have started learning more as a mother of two kids. At school levels, it was an enlightenment to see not all the students in one class read the same books. They are placed in one class, only based on their age. Based on their abilities, they follow different levels. That was really a way forward. I remember giving quarterly, half yearly, year end exams along with monthly tests that included, assignment and unit tests through out my schooling.  In UK, the very first exam my son, gave was when he was 7 and it was an observational test, not even letting the student know they were being tested. So, there were no external pressures,  nor the student had to “prepare” for the test. At that age, it was based on what you are just as everyday!

Having moved to US, the highly competitive school my kids go to, brought the zeal out of my very relaxed son and making him nervous at the same time. This system has tests, competitions, tournaments on whatever one can name. Is that necessary? Well, it comes with its own repercussions, both positive and not so. Leaving all these competitions aside, schooling by itself is another wonderful system. Students attempt mandatory tests at around the age of nine. Many of the teachers have decades of experiences. I believe children should be taught by the local people at a young age to understand how that country works.  Getting deviated again…coming to my original topic, teachers  lay a strong foundation to any child’s life. When parents find it hard to manage their own kids inside four walls over a week’s break, imagine the tenacity teachers possess having to  deal with them through out the year and build a strong foundation. I am on a book, “living at the source”, by Swamy Vivekananda. This book is based on his speeches during his trip to the US. He says, every race has some thing positive to give to the society. Yes, a valid point. But one should not regress from a well-working system to a one that’s out-dated and possibly unrefined! Many children are brain dead by the time they finish their universities. Life is supposed to start from there, not end there. Trust teachers, trust our own children. They have their own views towards their aims, ambitions. It’s their own world. The future belongs to them. Let them flourish. Let them be thankful for what we, as parents, have done. Not make them escape from us. With a few exceptions, teachers know their role. There is abundant sunlight out there. It depends on how much you, yourself, let it in. How much, as parents, we, make our children self sufficient in discovering it themselves. As said, Knowledge is power. The essence of childhood is not treasured in competitions and measured in scores.