Wednesday, 19 November 2014

It takes all kinds of artists to change the world: Ellie Cross

Ellie Cross is an artist from Seattle. After a formal training in art, she got interested in using art as a medium and a tool for curating solutions in order to create a better and just world. Ellie has worked in almost 10 countries and worked with local communities in Malaysia, Thailand, Guatemala, India, El Salvador, Ghana, Nicaragua, Tibet, Cambodia and the U.S.
Ellie, along with the local teams at all these places, created mural paintings on wide array of themes like environmental concerns and sustainable development, gender injustice and a strive towards equality, crippling poverty and art as a medium to learn and express, human trafficking and being salvaged from flesh trade among many others.
In a skype conversation with newsroompost.com, here is what Ellie revealed about her art and her commitments:
Newsroompost: Ellie, thank you so much for joining us. Art, in India is not considered a lucrative vocation and artists abandoning everything and embracing just art for their livelihood is a very brave step. You are from the US and have worked a great deal in various continents and countries. Do you think this kind of marginalisation when it comes to looking at art and giving it its due is a universal phenomenon?
Ellie Cross: Of course, yes. Art is not really a lucrative career option anywhere which is unfortunate given the immense possibilities within art. But i feel, one should follow one’s passion most definitely.
Newsroompost: You have done so much within such a short span of time. How is it that you fund your activities and your work? You were in India for a fair bit of time, for example.
Ellie Cross: I work for a bit, save, travel and work again. This cycle continues to run me and my passions. In India, i was teaching for three years. So, that kind of kept the kitchen running and allowed me to do my work.
Newsroompost: Your concept of marrying social commitment with art is a very beautiful and unique concept especially in times we inhabit where art either exists for ‘art’s sake’, is abstract or is vociferously polemical or political. How and why do you see art as this medium for social change?
Ellie Cross:  Art was always my calling. I knew that come what may, i will invest all my energies in art and work herein. It is so wonderful how art grapples with realities all around. You know, you don’t create anything anew. It is all interrogated by what you see around, what you feel and how you respond. Therefore, for me , it is almost impossible to dissociate art and reality or social commitment as you put it. Therefore, art has to and must invade meanings and help create something for a better world.
Newsroompost: So, you feel that art is political? Do you think art should send out messages for world – from the eyes of the artist as poet P.B. Shelley said that ‘poets(artists) are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.’
Ellie Cross: You are right. Art can not be a vocation in vacuum. It is very political. In fact, i personally feel that art should always be coupled with acitivism. That it should and must pave way for what’s happening around to what should happen around. Having said that, i also feel that it takes all kinds of artists to change the world. One common formula does not fit in all. Only activist artists can not be credited with the beautiful changes that we see or will see around. So, to go back to what you said, ‘art for art’s sake’ is also important just at Shelleyian idea of art is.
Newsroompost: Ellie, you have worked in 10 countries and have interacted with so many people, cultures, realities, responses and art forms. What do you think has been the most challenging situation by far? And what do you think are the challenges common to working in a dynamic space like this?
Ellie Cross:  Cultures, as you said, are different.  They created a beautiful dichotomy in my work space. On the one hand, it was amazing to know and absorb so much working with communities in all these different spaces. On the other hand, there was this huge language and cultural barrier that needed to be dealt with – broken and forged – before taking up the work that i envisaged. It took up a large part of my time, to form relationships with people that were conducive enough to come together for work.
Art, the kind which i engage in, is all about community coming together for a common good or goal or reason, or however you put it. For me, creating that condition to be able to create something new was the most challenging. Language, in that respect too, creates a problem.
I remember, in my first project at Mahim, Mumbai, i was so ennerved by the sheer size of population that came up that it was difficult to imagine completing that work(chuckles)…but we did.
Newsroompost: Ellie, you worked in India for a year. How do you see our country and what did you think of its potential, as an artist and acitivist?
Ellie Cross:The one thing which absolutely amazes me about your country is the sheer connectivity within communities. It is a culturally connected community. So, the kind of work i tried to do in India – its potential is huge and unique.
Look at this. The murals in slums and railway stations of Mumbai are now a community asset. It is great to discover that the community took care of its own creation by adding fresh layers of paint to it at regular intervals. That is the reward for community, its power to own and appropriate its space. So, in terms of potential, it huge – this kind of an ownership that incidentally happened through art there.
Newsroompost: Isn’t it similar to your experiences in Tibet?
Ellie Cross:  Yes, it is. In fact, Tibet showed me a microcosm of understanding art and how and what it means. I went to Tibet with a preconceived notion. I was cynical and thought that the western influence is consuming the Tibetan world and that it needs protection and preservation. But i was amazed and humbled to find how beautifully they had appropriated the western world view to their own advantage. Tibetans, being the smart people they are, are not just using art forms to preserve their culture but armed with the western ideals are forging new and creative bonds.
Newsroompost: What are issues that are close to your heart. I know you have worked a great deal on various issues and concerns, but what is that one thing that resonates with your commitment?
Ellie Cross:  I went to an all girls college. So, for sure, feminism is important to me. But i also feel quite strongly about environmental concerns.
Newsroompost: At the risk of asking you a very political and therefore a personal question, Ellie, i hope you do see some problems that are generated by the US and that has made this kind of ‘grappling with art for a better world’ a necessity. As an American, how do you see this politically?
Ellie Cross:  I disagree to what Obama has done in many ways. However, one has to understand that the real problems are structural – Obama or no Obama. Within the US,  immigration reforms, prison reforms are very important and need immediate attention. And you are right, the foreign policy of the government which is, by and large, based on aggression, is deeply problematic.
Newsroompost: What projects are keeping you busy these days?
Ellie Cross:  I am working on a poetry book that makes use of illustrative art and am working in Chile for murals called Window on the wall.
Newsroompost: Ellie, thank you so much for this beautiful conversation
Ellie Cross: The pleasure was all mine.

Saturday, 15 November 2014

Family matters and the unreliable maps of memory

Ira Singh's The Surveyor is a coming-of-age narrative trying to negotiate the realities of a recently decolonised nation. Weaving a panoramic view of social, political, literary and personal histories of the mid-20th century India through the characters of Ravinder and his daughter Natasha, Singh tries to grapple with the contradictions and binaries overriding generational shifts in the novel.
Ravinder joins the Survey of India as a cartographer at the historical junction of India's independence and the subcontinent's partition in 1947. Much against the wishes of his father, Ravinder marries an Anglo-Indian, Jennifer Robbins, and is blessed with two daughters, Anushka and Natasha. Natasha, the protagonist of The Surveyor, inherits the passion for cartography and reading from her father, Ravinder. In The Surveyor, she creates a cinematic portrait of her life, from households scattered in small towns, to the larger world of the city. The novel in that sense is Natasha's cartographic exploration of freedom and a search for her identity.
The almost sombre existential questions in the worlds of Ravinder's parents, Ravinder and Natasha, are negotiated in violently contradictory fashions. There is a fiercely savage grip on tradition and religion on the part of Ravinder's parents, Ravinder's own absolute rejection of ritualistic tradition and unstinting love for cartography and finally, a calmness shown by Natasha as she makes her peace with the bits and pieces of these previous lives that she encounters. And through the novel, one begins to gradually align oneself with the natural simplicity of being.
Memory and the act of surveying, remembering and chronicling form the essence of the book, in terms of plot, structure and form. A free narrative shift of physical location from Punjab to Dehradun to Delhi is akin to cartographic curating. It denotes moving on as a snap from one world to the other. Indeed, the strength of the narration lies in the organic tectonic shifts that Natasha's story takes. While lost in the rich dream-like narrative sequence of Dehradun and its hills, a reader reaches the end of a chapter. The very next moment, a chapter starts off in an upmarket Delhi space, jolting the reader as it quickly absorbs her into its enchanting fold. From one chapter to the other, one feels the narrative sliding away into wistful pasts, transporting the readers into a world of sharp images and moments punctuated by elegiac pangs.
The moments of lengthy, lisping almost relaxed recounting of details — as simple as remembering the almost forgotten Cherry Blossom shoe polish and Pears soap — have the ability to transport a reader to the real world of lost fantasies and memories fast fading into oblivion. The Coleridgean Kubla Khan experience of imagining and feeling a part of that makeshift dream which The Surveyor creates is so sensuous, delightful and rich that one genuinely wants that imagery to continue — without even a punctuation marring the effect.
Long, well knit, carefully carved and chiseled phrases and sentences mark the length and breadth of the novel. The preciseness of each word, the force of each phrase and the sensibility of each sentence is indicative of a careful craft.
Perhaps it's the conscious decision of the author to use memory as a trope to interrogate various themes. Memory builds up the story. Memory constructs characters. Memory conjures up historical and political details of Emergency years. Memory constructs and deconstructs the larger notions of nation formation, re-formation and deformation. This flirtation with memory glosses over a few important details of events in history, but one can see that this is mostly by design.
The novel could have said a little more about the time it encapsulates. Just as each character in the novel is well rounded and well formed, so could each moment in history and politics have been crafted. Perhaps, that is the limitation of memory or this kind of memorisation. Through cartography, memory, fleeting landscapes, polyphonic voices and a language rich in historical allegory, The Surveyor provides a dream-like experience. But like a lot of dreams, it also ends up being vague at certain places.
Dreamy, brimming with lingering memories, intense, rich and fleetingly sensuous, Ira Singh'sThe Surveyor is a recommendation for anyone who lives life with simplicity, honesty and adaptability. It's a book that seeks resonance in (and provides nourishment to) all those who search for their identities in their homes, families, work, solitude, desire and freedom. Ultimately, though, it's also about the price one pays for these things.

Thursday, 13 November 2014

A harsh winter awaits homeless Kashmiris

The Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir saw unprecedented damage after the floods in September. Nothing was spared — houses to hotels, the high court to hospitals, government offices to private businesses, shopping complexes to universities, schools and houseboats. The financial loss has yet to be ascertained. According to official estimates, at least 350 villages were completely submerged.
Jammu and Kashmir has had to face catastrophes time and again. There was a blizzard and an earthquake in 2005, a cloudburst and flash floods in 2010, and another cloudburst in 2011 — all this in addition to the militancy that has gone out of control since the Nineties. And each time these tragedies struck, the state has gone back by more than five years in terms of development, in spite of the efforts of the government and the resilience of Kashmiris.
In the Rajbagh area of Srinagar, the state capital, Shahala Ali Shaikh, a fiercely independent and successful entrepreneur and an environmental activist, lost her house and business. Standing amid the debris, she says, “It was bound to happen. What you give to nature will come back to you!”
Along with a team of other concerned citizens of the state, Shaikh had met officials of the central and state governments to warn of an impending disaster way back in 2006. They had suggested practical measures that needed some common sense and political will to check the changing dynamics of the environment. But all fell on deaf ears.“You need to understand the topography of a city like Srinagar where you have the River Jhelum, a Dal Lake, mountains all around; it’s like a saucer, you know — very fragile and very sensitive to earthquakes and flood situations,” Shaikh says. “City planning and transport could not and should not have ignored this aspect.”
Sajid Farooq Shah, a prominent businessman who owns the now-destroyed Comrade Inn, says: “A city whose population has already exhausted the carrying capacity of land will have to rethink the outdated the Housing Master Plan 2001. The presumption that Srinagar would experience a population growth akin to Switzerland has been fatal. Look at this: the master plan does not allow residential constructions beyond 25 feet (7.6 metres) but the floodwaters rose way beyond 30 feet (9 metres). The entire city had to drown. There is an urgent need for drafting practical and well-researched housing and transport policies for the city.”
In 2006 the delegation of concerned citizens also submitted a proposal to enunciate the importance of a water transport system. They explained the benefits of keeping the waters of the Dal Lake and Jhelum flowing. The proposal, based on what London has done with its Thames, elaborated on developing a water transport system in the Jhelum and its tributaries and how dredging the river bed and having a waterfront makes environmental and economic sense. “If the government had heeded the citizens’ advice”, says my driver, as he drives me from Pampore to HMT Crossing, “and you had taken a boat to cover this distance, you could have easily saved about an hour.”
I imagine a well-developed transport system in the River Jhelum taking care of the local transportation needs and supplementing incomes. This would take care of the inter-district travels within the state from the north to the south and 70 per cent of the present transportation woes between Anantnag and Baramullah. But what I actually see as I drive around Srinagar, and along the Jhelum and the sides of the Dal Lake is something different: heavily populated pockets in a shambles and refugee camps whose residents have nothing but plastic sheets to keep off the elements, all pointing accusingly at the extreme insensitivity of the government(s) in place.
“Look at what has happened to Rajbagh, Kursu and adjoining areas,” says Shabeena, a survivor of the floods now living in a makeshift camp. “It’s all gone … forever. Whatever you do, you cannot reclaim the lost history of the area.”
All that remains of the Lalded hospital, the Presentation Convent, state museum, swanky emporiums and coffee shops are ruins. Move away from the once-posh areas of Rajbagh and there are stagnant floodwaters everywhere, sparking fears of an epidemic. Mehzoor Nagar, colonies on the banks of the Dal Lake, and countless temporary shelters house people with itchy skin and other health complaints.
As an immediate step towards relief in Kashmir, one needs to build houses for thousands of people who have lost their homes. No one seems to have an idea where the relief packages announced by the central or the state governments have been going. The recent Rs7.45 billion (Dh445 million) package announced by Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his plan to have a central-government body oversee its implementation are laudable. But all these promises will count for nothing if the homeless have no protection against the harsh winter that will set in soon. Whatever has to be done, has to be done urgently.
Omar Shafi Trumboo, a well-known industrialist and general-secretary of the Civil Society Forum of Kashmir, has been involved in relief work in the state, especially in the badly hit south.
“Temporary shelters for people need to be built urgently as winter is almost here,” he says. “Also, conversion of these temporary shelters into permanent structures has to begin soon. One can clearly see politics and the impending elections affecting relief work. Good Samaritans from the corporate world and other individuals need to come forward and begin work.”
Sachin Pilot, former union minister for corporate affairs, agrees with Trumboo: “The J&K tragedy is a national tragedy and it should not and must not be politicised. Funds, resources, efforts should flow in from everywhere to rehabilitate victims. The government should see that CSR rules are made a little flexible, as I did during my tenure as union minister, so that people from everywhere can pitch in. In fact, the project of rehabilitation should be the topmost priority of the government after rescue and relief work.”
Organisations like the HMP Foundation have been working from day one, rescuing victims, distributing relief material, holding medical camps, stocking up medicines and food in hospitals.
Faisal Patel, founder and director of HMP, says, “We have distributed 1,500 litres of water, 3,500 kilograms of food packets [including rice, pulses, flour, salt, sugar, biscuits, etc], 2,000 kilograms of milk powder, 100 kilograms of baby food, 3,000 blankets, 2,000 pieces of warm clothing, 5,000 chlorine tablets, 3,000 face masks, 2,000 tubes of disinfectants, 5,000 packets of ORS, 5,000 strips of general medicines, 2,500 bandage strips, and other essential items for daily use. We have also organised health camps in south Kashmir and Srinagar and catered to more than 2,000 patients. We have reached out to more than 1,500 households in the state through health camps or by providing relief.”
Elaborating on his future plans for rehabilitation in Jammu and Kashmir, he adds, “We have realised that one needs to identify specific areas where one wants to work and get on with it. So, at HMP, we have decided on working towards ‘Adopt a J&K Village’ project, where we will rebuild 100 completely destroyed villages and rehabilitate their residents. These villages will be worked upon with the motive of building them better than before in terms of infrastructure, opportunities for growth and employment, and the overall aesthetics.
“We are also planning to undertake the rebuilding of hospitals such as the Lalded and G.B. Pant. Organisations like the FICCI [Federation of Indian Chambers of Commerce and Industry], corporate houses such as Jindal Steel and Larsen & Toubro, are already on board in realising this task.”
Restoring normality in this beautiful land that Firdaus once described as heaven in the much-quoted couplet, Agar Firdaus bar ru-e-zamin ast, hami ast o- hami ast o- hami ast [If there is a heaven on earth, it’s here, it’s here, it’s here] will take all the goodness and resilience humankind, especially Indians, can muster.

Monday, 18 August 2014

A Menstruation Kit With A Difference: Sadhvi Thukral [Interview]

Sadhvi Thukral is a post graduate student at the National Institute of Design (NID), Ahmedabad. Prior to studying at NID, Sadhvi worked at Jatan Sansthan as part of her internship in between her graduation days at Pearl Academy, Noida. It was during that stint with Jatan that Sadhvi designed India’s first design kit for the visually impaired to understand menstruation.
She created ‘Kahani har Mahine ki’ – a booklet and kit to help visually challenged girls and women understand the intricacies of the female life. ‘Kahani…’ comprises of a braille booklet that compiles literature around safe and hygienic menstruation and a three dimensional, practical kit to help the visually impaired know the facts easily and lucidly.
Here are excerpts of an interview with a young, effervescent, passionate social innovator and designer.
Shubhrastha : Sadhvi, you have done a marvellous feat at bringing this issue to the forefront of not just society but also of one of the most neglected section of the same. What has been your inspiration?
Sadhvi Thukral : I was staying with a family in Udaipur, when I realized that women of that household do not enter the kitchen during their menstruation. It came as a shock that in this supposedly ‘modern’ day and age, a perfectly natural and biological phenomenon of menstruation is treated as a taboo. Perhaps, somewhere the need to talk about it flickered in my mind.
I was amazed by the non-availability of supporting and core material for the visually impaired, (women, especially) vis-a-vis reproductive health. While all of us -meaning people with good eyesight and education- could research on the internet, feed on information through advertisements, written material etc. I realized that there is a huge lack that needs to be addressed.
Visually impaired girls reach puberty at a younger age than most of us, and it was appalling that neither the syllabi in schools nor in colleges were sensitive to the vacuum. Also, I had always been interested in disability  and issues related to the disabled. So, there I was – with a vision that had come to reveal itself in slight haziness.
I had to submit my end of semester project in college. And I decided that I would design a kit that would try to give the necessary information in as much of detail as possible. So, I chose to author literature around menstruation and menstrual health which could be converted into braille, and also produce a three dimensional kit which could be instrumental in acting as a sensory support to the literature.
Now that you have designed the kit and there has been a fair amount of buzz regarding the same, what do you plan to do next with the same? Is there a plan to further the intent of working on the issue?
Sadhvi Thukral: Well, frankly, I did not know that the kit would be talked about so much. But I am thankful that it got the attention. Right now, I want this kit to be used as extensively as possible. I also wish that this becomes the core part of school curricula and meets its core objective. I am still to decide on the modalities of the same. But my vision is very clear.
Have you tried approaching government institutions and non-governmental organizations?
Sadhvi Thukral : As a matter of fact, yes. But the responses have been verbal more than in actions. Currently, I am looking for partners for funds. In fact, I am ready to provide the entire kit for free to just anyone who wants to use it for the cause.
How far do you see “Kahani…” as a part of a social advocacy tool? Or do you not see it that way at all?
Sadhvi Thukral : Of course, I do. Social advocacy or not, am not sure. But I want to see every visually impaired girl and woman in the country as educated and equipped with information on menstruation and menstrual hygiene as a visually able woman or girl.
Also, the taboo to talk about menstruation, the social bias in dealing with menstruating women, the culture of shame that marginalizes a woman undergoing something as natural as this should end. I will do whatever it takes to achieve that.

Thursday, 24 July 2014

Why scrapping the FYUP in Delhi University defeats the effort to inject dynamism in traditional education formats

One year after the Delhi University (DU) introduced the Four Years Undergraduate Programme (FYUP) in 2013, the new HRD Ministry put an end to the stand-off between the Vice Chancellor and Delhi University Teachers’ Association (DUTA) by scrapping the programme. 
Academic circles in DU vociferously debated the topic ad nauseum from the day it was introduced till it got scrapped. The two broad camps that emerged were DUTA supporters that in most likelihood opposed the FYUP and that of the Vice Chancellor’s (VC’s) supporters who of course supported the FYUP in form and spirit. Amidst the swords that were drawn, slowly but definitely, the essence of the debate got lost.
At the culmination of the decision by the HRD, the finer distinction between FYUP as a concept and the way by which it was implemented got muddled. So the VC’s undemocratic way to push the course acted as the basic argument to denounce the course in toto. There was no positive criticism offered, no alternate arrangement proffered other than letting the status quo remain vis-à-vis courses. So much so, that the academic circle is gleeful to have FYUP removed irrevocably – at least that is how the public image around it revolves.
It is imperative to note that the FYUP came as an innovative concept in the traditional ways of education in the DU. Not only did it extend the erstwhile three-year long program by a year, but it also promised more and viable options to students after they passed, like directly applying for a masters degree abroad. To rule out this positive development in totality by the outright rejection of the experiment, is a pathetic portrayal of the impervious attitude of elite institutes like DU and JNU towards a change in their way of teaching and pedagogy. 
Each time there is a request to bring dynamism into education and teaching, activism in campuses increases in order to eliminate any possibility of hampering the comfort zone of educators using the traditional formats. The cases in point are the almost militant protests against digitisation of data (student attendance, performance evaluation etc.), request to publish research papers and academic notes, drawing attention towards making the syllabi more holistic, chances of introducing ideas beyond the cut and set mold of leftism, Marxism, feminism, postcolonialism etc.
I have been a student of English in DU both in my graduate honors course and in my postgraduate course. My batch was the first one to have seen the semester system introduced in MA. I agree that there were problems and issues in the implementation of the course, but at the same time, I also admit that this course did bring in some degree of order and professionalism in the study of English as a serious discipline. I am sure that after the lab rat treatment the first wave of experimentation gave us, the course would be much sorted and better by now. 
But even at that time, professors and students complained ad hominem about the authorities and used that flawed argument as the primary tool to attack the semester system. In hindsight, I do not recollect any instance where the lecturers, professors or student bodies offered a positive criticism to any proposal tabled by the DU authorities. I never saw them attach an alternate plan to what was proposed. I never saw any appendage detailing the ‘other’ proposal to work around the semester system and as a repetition again, today, to improve upon the FYUP model. 
It is good to raise concerns and questions, because that is how a healthy democracy functions. But to criticise something just because it is cool in certain ‘intellectual’ circles to bash up any innovation that comes up is the most regressive gesture and thwarts any possibility of change. 
FYUP was an idea that could have galvanised a fresh perspective within the intellectual environs of India’s most renowned and premier seats of humanities education. As a student of English literature, I can very clearly see that the extended year was a huge opportunity – now lost – to revamp the traditional mold of how English is taught in colleges. Had the course been designed such, students would have got a fair taste of what higher education looks like in literature. A teaching of formative tools of research would have helped students in making up their minds in taking up higher education, if at all they chose to do so. 
FYUP also had the possibility of changing the otherwise biased literary canon of DU syllabi to include north-eastern, Southern and northern literature in English because then we would have had more time at our disposal. It had the possibility of making literary theory and criticism and postcolonial literature a compulsory slice within the course for all students of English. 
What the recent turn of events have done is to brand DU as a staunch ideological battleground. DU has definitely lost an opportunity to change and evolve for the better. 

Wednesday, 17 July 2013

Author’s Corner: With Shefalika Verma

Shefalika Verma is the first woman writer of Maithili to have bagged the Sahitya Akademi Award. With fifteen publications – poetry, short stories, novels, travelogues, autobiography – to her credit, Shefalika was the image of perfect poise when she appeared for this interview. Excerpts from an hour-long rendezvous with the writer, lover and critic of literature and life:
Firstly, congratulations! How do you feel about receiving the Sahitya Akademi Award? Were you expecting it?
Shefalika Verma: Thank you! Well, I chose writing because it was close to my heart. I have been writing for a very long time now. I started off writing for self-consumption but gradually my works started to get published in magazines like Balak, Chandamama, Kadambini, Rashtra Bhasha Sandesh etc. It was then that the idea was nursed in me by my family that I could write and that I should write more regularly. My father, father-in-law and my husband really put me into the realm of writing and that’s how it all began. This award makes me feel happy that I could make these people in my life proud.
I did not expect it; it was a surprise. For a number of days till the news was formally confirmed by the Akademi, I used to wonder if they have sent me the correct information. I never wrote for grabbing an award. I wrote because it gave vent to what I thought and that cannot be awarded and measured, you know.
What serves as an inspiration for your writings? Do you wish to send messages across to people?
Shefalika Verma: I believe each woman is a writer. I say this because there is so much that she goes through, so much that she experiences that each life chronicles a story in its own right. Perhaps, my life as a woman inspired the writer in me. Kist Kist Jeevan is an autobiographical piece and each incident related therein is very personal. I had to write them. I had to bring it out.
I write to tell a story. Some might appear to have a message and but it is never a conscious effort. I think messages are interpreted and made in the minds of those who read them; one never sets out to give them.
You keep saying that your writings are mostly about your personal experiences and that your family literally cajoled you into this field. Would you wish to elaborate a little on that?
Shefalika Verma: I was married very young into a zamindar family of Bihar. There was this typical conservative atmosphere at home. Luckily, I had been introduced to books very early on in life by my father. They kept me company even at my new home.
I was studying at Patna University and had been married when one of my poems got published. It was a poem that talked about the trials of being a woman. My father-in-law read that and wrote a letter to me, in the form of a response poem. Later, he encouraged me to write more though women in our household were not very free to do everything. It was a lucky situation that education was barred from those notions. One could study, read and write as much as one wanted.
Then there was my husband who picked up this bit of interest in me and literally propelled me to write more. After he was gone, I was in depression for long but slowly I realized that by not picking up the pen, I am essentially doing injustice to him and his encouragement.
So, yes, my family has been very supportive of me and my work. In fact today, my children and my daughters-in-law all give unparalleled support to what I do and what I wish to do. That feels great.
Your writings show women in a very real light – donning hats of competence and at the same time playing roles that are very traditional. Do you think that that’s how women are today or are they only in your works?
Shefalika Verma: I believe that every woman has shades to her. She might be a professional and a mother and a wife and a writer at different points in time but her womanhood is her core. And that part of a woman feels and senses and responds to these going-ons. It is with this woman that I connect. Of course, there are disconnects and issues with woman that rip her apart socially and mentally and on many other fronts but she emerges strong. That is where I think I find them real. And that is how I try to portray them in my works.
You switched over to Maithili though you began as a Hindi writer. What explains that shift?
Shefalika Verma: I am very comfortable in both the languages. But choosing Maithili as my major literary voice was a conscious attempt. My husband, late Shri Lalan Kumar Verma, explained to me how Maithili needs to be nurtured and how there are very few writers there. This struck me. If my works can protect, promote and enrich a language, why not use that in my writings? Also, the atmosphere at home and the mode of communication there was Maithili – culturally as well as linguistically. This choice, therefore, was well informed and shaped.
You have been called “Mahadevi of Maithili”, your works compared to that of Jane Austen’s. How do such parallels affect you?
Shefalika Verma: I remember that once I was sitting at a literary function when Mahadevi Verma walked up to me and lifted my chin. She asked me to write more and appreciated my writings. It was an overwhelming moment. I’ve always admired and loved her. So, when someone compares you to a figure like that, it feels fortunate and very happy. But as far as affecting oneself is concerned, I think it encourages you to write better and write more.

Wednesday, 19 June 2013

Filling the chasm


The passage of the Right to Education Act, 2009, made education free and compulsory for all children aged six to 14 years. While there has been a progressive shift in people’s minds, especially those belonging to the society’s weaker and marginalised sections, about the necessity of education, the quality of education imparted at most government-run schools have left most parents anxious and unsatisfied.

They complain that in most cases, the knowledge imparting system was too mundane and namesake with teachers often disinterested in the job at hand. Infrastructure is another major impediment with overcrowded classes and lack of enough instructors.

In this scenario, a non-profit outfit — Nidan — has come forward to fill in this yawning gap. The organization has been working extensively with people employed in urban unorganised sectors in Bihar, Rajasthan, Jharkhand and Delhi.

“Currently, one of our most engaging projects is to facilitate the provision of quality education to the children of various slums in Patna,” says Ratnish Verma, who heads Nidan’s operations in Bihar.
Nidan divides the target group of various children into Shala Poorv (pre-primary), Shala Arambh (Classes I to III), Shala Madhya (Classes IV and V) and Shala Samooh (classes VI to VIII) slots. This was done to cater to the specific requirements of each group.

“Often in government schools, children are made to sit in a classroom which has a mixed batch of students of Classes I to IV because there are not many teachers available for each class. This leads to a gross confusion in ‘what to teach to whom.’ Also, managing a huge classroom makes only the choicest few students, who pick up fast, gain the bulk of what is being taught. Having been left behind for long sustained days, slowly the kids begin to lose interest in studies and drop out of school,” reflects Rashmi Lakra, the head of the education project under Nidan.

Neelmani Devi, a vegetable seller and a mother of five, says, “It is better that Ramesh (her third child) sits with me and learns how to tackle customers than waste his time in school doing nothing.” Ramesh dropped out of school after Class III. He cannot recognise alphabets and letters and one wonders how he was promoted from his previous classes all the while.

“Looking at the alarming rates of drop outs between Classes III and V, we figured out that lot needs to be done to build the effective gap between classroom teaching and students’ learning. So in the various shalas, we basically aim to cater to the lack of knowledge gap among various kids by providing them with extra assistance and care, right from the beginning. For this, we began with ensuring that small children enrol themselves in government schools early on and simultaneously in helping the older kids retain their attendance in schools,” shares Ms. Lakra.

“Shala Poorv familiarises the children with the basics of language, numeracy and literacy skills. Once that happens, we help them to enrol in government schools. At Shala Arambh, Shala Madhya and Shala Samooh, we work rigorously to ensure that the children left behind in the process of learning are given adequate inputs to pick up pace with their other classmates,” Bhola Prasad, another associate with the projects, says.