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This is an archive article published on September 10, 2009

Colours of knowledge on walls of hope

About 65 km from the Khajuraho temples that showcase some of the most evocative sculptures in India....

About 65 km from the Khajuraho temples that showcase some of the most evocative sculptures in India,the walls of the Government High School in village Mamon vibrate with a rare sensitivity and warmth. To reach the school,take the lurching dirt track off the Chhatarpur-Sagar highway. At the arched gate,there is no mistaking the institution that is gathering repute in the area as the government school that “Sir” built.

With a literacy rate of 53.44 per cent,according to the 2001 census,Chhatarpur district is a laggard in a state that has all but caught up with the national average — the literacy rate in Madhya Pradesh is 64.11 per cent; the national average is 65.4. In Chhatarpur,as in other districts of MP and Uttar Pradesh that are part of the Bundelkhand region,the village school is nobody’s child — a decrepit institution,marked by decaying buildings,lack of teaching aids and teacher absenteeism.

The Government High School of village Mamon tells the story of how in Bundelkhand,it was left to one man to re-imagine the school.

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On the outer sides of the school’s boundary walls are painted,in more pictures than words,lessons for the benefit of passers-by. One tableau gives tips on economising on time and fuel while cooking — “cover the vessel”,it says,and “measure out the appropriate amount of water”,alongside pictorial illustrations of the instructions. Another chart depicts the water cycle. Yet another portrays “essential activities of the gram panchayat”.

Inside,there isn’t a blank wall. In each of the eight classrooms,lessons from the syllabus of Classes 1 to 8 are painted,floor to ceiling,in bright colours.

A Class 10 wall is sombre with pictorial representations of the “World’s Main Challenges” — “water pollution”,“air and sound pollution” and “terrorism”,the last depicted in the painter’s reproduction of the 9/11 scene of two planes crashing into the World Trade Centre towers. In Class 1,the walls hum with merry rhymes,like aalu-kachalu and olay barse. From Physics,Math,Biology and Chemistry,to Literature and Moral Science — it’s a painting on the wall.

Raghvendra Purohit,retired havildar in the Indian Army,driving force behind the school,and simply “Sir” to its 425 students,eight teachers and all residents of village Mamon,explains,“The MP government has a policy of appointing two teachers for Classes 1 to 5”,he says. “Of the two,one is kept busy with government paperwork. So I thought of putting the main points of the syllabus up on the walls. That way,even if the teacher is absent or inattentive,the child can just roam around the school,and learn.”

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When Purohit was appointed as a ‘shiksha karmi’ to the school in 1998,shortage of teachers was only one of the challenges he confronted. The feudalism that permeates life in the village infects the school — especially in Bundelkhand,particularly in the part that falls in MP,untouched by the lower caste assertion that has stirred up congealed hierarchies in UP’s towns and villages.

Stories of caste discrimination abound in the area. Like the incident,this August 15,in Kakarwaha village in the neighbouring district of Tikamgarh,when a squabble among children,one Thakur and the other a Vanshkar (SC),escalated into a brutal show of might mounted by elders of the former caste against children of the latter.

Or the case of Gundiyabai,SC sarpanch,of village Sarguwan,not far from Mamon.

Gundiyabai wasn’t able to unfurl the flag this August 15 from the Panchayat Bhavan for the fourth year in a row. Ever since a disagreement with the locally powerful Thakur family turned violent four years ago,she hasn’t even been able to live in her village. “I long to be back in my village… But when my term as sarpanch ends in three months,it still won’t be safe to go back to Sarguwan,” she told The Indian Express outside her one-room refuge in a Harijan basti near a police post in the town of Bada Malehra.

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In Mamon,Purohit recalls the first day he got the children to pray together. “A Thakur boy,when he found he was standing behind a child belonging to a Scheduled Caste,slapped him. I called the Thakur student and told him that in this school there would be only one community — of students.”

By and large,that rule has been observed in the school,says Purohit,where children of all castes eat,study,and play together,though he admits,“I think I was successful because I am a Brahmin.”

Outside the school boundaries,too,things haven’t remained the same. Prembai Raikwar,OBC,who cooks the school’s midday meals says,“For the last 5-6 months,I have no longer been taking off my chappals and holding them in my hands when I walk past the house of a Thakur.” Shubha Dwivedi,who teaches all subjects up to Class 5,is confident that “Now 10 of us (in the school) can take on 100 of them (in the village).”

In 1999,Purohit started staying back nights in the school. “I would call children back to school to complete their work in the evenings.” Since October 1999,the older children — in Classes 3 to 8 — have been sleeping in the school as well,though only from October to March when mosquitoes,leaky roofs and erratic electricity are less of a problem.

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“During these months,children go back to their homes only to have breakfast and dinner,since the midday meal is served in school. The parents are happy to let me take responsibility for their school work,they want to keep the child away from the atmosphere of the village.”

Purohit has also learnt the art of getting donations. Businessmen from the city have gifted fans,a book rack,uniforms,notebooks. “I invited a businessman to unfurl the flag on January 26,” he says.

Next on Purohit’s agenda: formal residential facilities to help cut down the dropouts among SC-ST children — “the only ones who drop out now”. SCs and STs form the bulk of the migrants heading out of villages in Bundelkhand to work in faraway cities for a few months every year. Purohit has been speaking to parents,trying to persuade them to leave their children behind so that their studies are not interrupted. “For now,many parents have agreed to leave their children with relatives,” he says.

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