Day 1

The story begins. Set against the dull backdrop of slums, I’ll narrate you a story of struggle, desire, crushed dreams… a story of words, through words. The element of fiction is completely omitted and every word I write here is truth. A complete work of non-fiction. Is it a story or a narrative, I do not know. It is for you to figure it out, where should it fall. As I do in all my works, the names will be kept anonymous.

One fine eve, I met this one person with gleaming eyes. She said to me about her plans of educating children in the slums. The ignored of the ignored, or the ignorant too. The brightness in her eyes and the warmth in her eyes, passed into mine. The shallowness inside me gave it a little space within me, didn’t let it grow, but nevertheless the seeds were sown. A Sunday initiative for which volunteers added up in a mass. I joined, a second thought rising within me every second. Teaching wasn’t something I was used to, but trying was never a bad idea.

Two Sundays got skipped, I did not go there for various reasons. The third Sunday, February 21, 2016, I decided to make it a point to be a part of this little initiative. With others like me, I walked along into the areas I never once had explored. Those were the nearby slums. I cannot call them slums, because it was way better than a stereotypic notion of one. When children saw us they started running about, some ran into their homes to pick their bags, some ran and hid behind huge drums, some just waved and a few others ran, never to appear again. But I saw a number of kids who wore smiles when they saw us. It was refreshing, it was encouraging. I took the first step of that of a teacher.

When we gathered in front of a mandir the kids came along and surrounded us. They were not the ones with fancy gadgets in their hand, or the ones with arrogance on their faces, they were kids. The real kids. I saw admiration in their eyes and for no particular reason they smiled at us. I stood there rigid, as if a statue had been placed in between them. Still they smiled and waved at me. The shallowness within me drained little by little and was overcome by the sense of responsibility towards those tiny souls. My pursed lips smiled at them and seeing this theirs widened.

“Aap nayi hai?” [Are you new?] One tiny tot, with soiled sleeves asked me.

“Haan.” [Yes.] I replied with a smile.

Since they broke the ice, I decided to continue the conversation. Asking their names I began, and then we spoke of their friends, their Sunday classes with us, their studies and a little more. In the meanwhile a few of them ran to get their friends to the class. The kids with me, narrated the event of a marriage that had taken place a few days ago. I listened with piercing ears, since their eyes never left mine, and they demanded a total attention from me. I happily gave it to them. I took the second step towards being their teacher.

Some of them addressed me as their teacher and the others as didi of which I liked the latter. Everyone assembled and the class started with a nursery rhyme. From the starters to the seventh graders there were a chunk of kids. A mini-school I would call it. They grouped themselves into classes and our friends accompanied them. I didn’t have a class, neither did I have any tots to go after. Soon I joined my friend who was having a group of three. When I asked which class they are in, she replied with a meek expression that they had left school, or not attended one at all.

I sat down along with them. Theirs eyes bore into me, and I talked to them. They were not cozy with me. There was something in me that intimidated them, and had I known what it is, I would have happily left it somewhere very far. With the arrival of books, slates and pencils, we started what we were here for.

Right then one of the three children (who looked a bit elder to the other two) asked me.

“Teacher, padhne se hame job milta hai na?” [Teacher, we’ll get a job if we study right?]

His question made me wonder what all where there in his little mind. He was anticipating a reply, the look in his face gave away his expectations of a reply. I nodded happily and added what all we gain from educating oneself. When I finished explaining the perks, he smiled in agreement. Maybe that is what drove him, he learnt A-E on the first day itself. With each new thing we taught him, the surprise in his eyes grew profound. And one other kid with us was writing ‘A’ for supposedly the nth time. At the end of that nth time, when I asked him to spell it he declared:

“Nahi maalum, hame nahi aata ‘’ [Don’t know, I can’t do it.]

He had made up his mind that education was not meant for him. I do not know where that notion came from, but the efforts I put in simply went down the drain, with him thinking that way. A while later he asked me to let him go to the bathroom, I did. Half an hour passed and I knew I was waiting for Godot. He followed his mind.

Classes all around me were going in full swing. If an area was with a set of action songs, another area was beaming with stories with them. Then there was this little kid in a red dress, she was nibbling the sleeves of her dress and staring everywhere in bewilderment. She had been deprived of education since her family could only afford the education of one; her elder. So she came to these Sunday classes to have an essence of what her elder receives every single day.

It didn’t take me a long while to realize that they had captured places in my heart. I couldn’t retain their names, but their faces were a part of me now. I had given them space, I had accepted them. Third step towards the world of a teacher.

At the end of two and a half hours, we concluded the classes. They waved at us and said bye in their own different ways. Some gave handshakes, some waved, some smiled, some shouted “bye didiii” and so on. We too started leaving the arena. And until we left their place, they kept following us and waving endlessly. The admiration in their eyes shining bright.

They reached within and touched me, passing their warmth into me and the dozen others. Their questions became mine, and their frown lines passed on to me. They were magic.

On the way back, I recollected my class, where I study. If anyone of you are reading this, take no offence, for I intend to speak my heart out. We miss classes, bunk them, waste our money on things we do not even need, wander aimlessly and showcase the worst in us. We don’t value because we have, and that is the only difference between them and us. There is no other barrier, it’s just the barrier of mindsets, and how we take in things. Being a student I never knew what it feels to be in the chair of a mentor. Now I have tasted a portion of it, it’s hard, very hard. What I felt when the kid completed till E, and what I felt when the kid never turned up from the bathroom.

All I feel is pity for those who wander, even while they are born with a silver spoon in the mouth. Those who do not care to care.

I traveled through an untraveled path today. My eyes feel wide and open. I respect the world even more today and bow my heads in humble gratitude for all that I have been gifted with. A lesson learnt from little ones, they think I taught them, but what they taught me is way beyond what I did. All I look forward to is Sundays. A day which was spent on slumbers, will now be for someone else. And I love it. The feeling, the happiness, and the completion it gives me. I’m happy that I buried my shallowness somewhere. Anyone who lives in my words, lives in my heart. 

This is what I call a story.