Virtual prosperity

The man behind this silent revolution is a former IAS officer and son of a former Chief Justice of the Allahabad High Court. Lalit Uniyal, 58, decided to sow the seeds of change at Aau village, about 40 km from the district headquarters Banda, soon after he quit the IAS. The revolution began in July 1980 at a time when the two most powerful of the 19 landlord families in the village held sway across Aau.

These families opposed the entry of modern education into their village and in the early years there were many occasions when armed landlords and local politicians stormed into the school looking for Uniyal, who had by then managed to get the social churning underway.

Recalling the difficult early years, Uniyal says: 8216;8216;During my initial months in Aau, I wanted to create awareness among the landless labourers but being an outsider. I received threats from upper caste politicians and landlords and often considered killing myself.8217;8217;

He adds: 8216;8216;Sometimes, I used to get weakened by the violent opposition. and run away. One day I received a message from my mother who wrote that if my limbs are broken they will mend but if my morale breaks, nothing can restore that.8217;8217;

8216;8216;I found that opening a school for Dalit children would give me legitimacy to stay in the village and modernise a generation which would question the rights of the oppressors in future,8217;8217; Uniyal adds.

The former IAS officer terms his schoolchildren8217;s 2003 meeting with President A P J Abdul Kalam as 8216;8216;a turning point as the feudal lords who were after my life realised that doing any harm to me or to the school would cost them dear and stopped threatening me and the teachers8217;8217;.

The children converse in Bagheli 8212; the dialect spoken by the underprivileged 8212; and manage just a few words of English and Hindi, the language of the upper caste landlords. Even so, they were thrilled to meet Kalam 8212; whom they said they wanted to emulate as President 8212; and university professors to whom they spoke about their dreams as well as the current social realities.

Aau8217;s students have also visited big towns and hill stations and are gradually being exposed to modern life. They are quite confident and want to break the shackles of the past. And, as in the case of Sangeeta Kumari, 10, some want to pursue higher studies.

Class VII student Sangeeta, the eldest of three sisters and a brother, declares: 8216;8216;I want to study more and more and grow. I want my sisters and brother to study, look ahead and break the shackles.8217;8217; She proudly adds that she can work at the computer unaided.

Poonam, 10, wants to be a computer engineer while Chandrapal, 12, is eyeing a career as a professional photographer. They are just a few of the mentally liberated Dalit children who have benefited tremendously from Uniyal8217;s decision to set up a school across eight acres in Aau a quarter century ago.

BACK then, Uniyal bought a small plot of land and founded the Bhumiheen Sewa Samiti with his savings and the help of his journalist and civil servant friends. Gradually, he began to get support from others and developed the school. The school now generates its own funds through farming, bee-keeping, steel-sheet work and pottery, done by children and teachers alike.

A few years ago, Uniyal was introduced by friends to Asha for Education, an organisation formed by some Indians at the University of California to support the education of underprivileged children in India.

The one-time IAS officer says: 8216;8216;Initially, we had only Dalit children. But later I realised that any artificial segregation from children of the so-called upper castes would not serve the purpose because ultimately, the Dalit children have to return to the same world and struggle for self-respect. So I opened 50 per cent seats for general classes and gave admission to roughly 30 per cent Dalit girls. Presently, there are 300 students.8217;8217;