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If the children are entertained, they receive more willingly He defied
borders Woman
behind the Mahatma MAKING WAVES
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Fun
textbooks, happy learners Janaki is clueless about how to deal with her five-year-old daughter. Like thousands of other children in Andhra Pradesh’s small towns and villages, the little girl is hooked to the television. The only time Janaki is able to pull her daughter away from the television is when there is a power breakdown. For the mother, sending the child to school every morning is a huge challenge as she finds the school boring and the books unappealing. Recently, Janaki, a government schoolteacher in West Godavari district’s Eluru town, introduced her daughter to an alternative form of entertainment the Janashaala (People’s School) class. The Janashaala project – a non-formal education programme implemented in AP districts where the District Primary Education Programme (DPEP) is not available - was launched in November 2004. Implemented in primarily backward areas, it aims at boosting enrolment, keeping kids in school, and inculcating reading habits among Class 1 and 2 students. Sponsored by UNICEF, one of the key components of the programme is the use of the Telugu alphabet to weave a picture story based on farm animals and child characters. "My child looks curiously at the pictures and asks me to read the story to her. Of course, she is making no attempt to read by herself but I guess the teacher will make her do that," says Vijayalakshmi, a housewife from East Godavari district’s Polavaram mandal (an administrative unit smaller than a block). Manohar, another parent, however, is sceptical. "The lure of non-literary media is so powerful. How can a book beat a cartoon show on TV? I think the teachers will have a tough task making kids read them," he says. The picture storybooks, developed under the guidance of Early Child Education (ECE) experts, artists, communication experts and writers aim to stimulate interest among children even for non-academic reading material. The programme is being implemented in 34 select mandals in the districts of East and West Godavari, Krishna and Hyderabad. "We have also selected 139 slum areas in Hyderabad (old) city," says Narayana Reddy, Project Officer of Janashaala in DPEP. The most interesting thing about the project is the way the stories are generated. Janashaala has been organising a series of workshops in the districts at which primary school teachers and Telugu Pandits (scholars) brainstorm and come up with about 200 different storylines in a single day. "It is easier said than done because we are supposed to use the literacy ladder, which teaches only a few letters at a time, that too not in the conventional order," explains Subrahmanya Sharma, a Telugu teacher in Gudibanda village in Krishna district. The first step in the ladder, for example, has only four letters ‘ee’, ‘la’, ‘ta’, ‘ga’. The team is expected to weave a story using words that can be made out of a combination of these letters. For example, one can only make words like tala (head in Telugu), eega (house fly) and eela (whistle) with the first set of letters. So one creates a story with the head, a fly, a girl named Lata, and a whistle. Complicated sentences are taboo; the challenge is to get an interesting story with these few words. "Sounds impossible, right? But you’d be amazed to know we did it," Sharma declares triumphantly. Each story is narrated on the left page; the key words are indicated on the right page along with colourful illustrations; and in about 20 sentences over four pages, the story is completed. "The challenge lies in making it a maximally effective medium with multiple benefits. Teach the alphabets and the words, tell a story and then incorporate a small moral into it. Nothing too profound, just a bit of etiquette or small kindness," says Reddy Raghavaiah, well-known writer of children’s books and a member of the creative panel. The ladders (known as the Gautami kit in West Godavari district, and Krishnaveni in Krishna—named after the rivers flowing through those districts) have been developed by the ECE experts. East Godavari’s kit, called Ananda Lahari, also had multi-grade mathematics material, turning scary maths into fun. The ECE Centre of the Andhra Mahila Sabha (AMS) - an NGO that was started way back in 1937 - is the resource group for the Janashaala programme. The creative team of AMS facilitated the workshops and then sat over the material to finalise the stories. "The concept is that of joyful learning. Teach them while you entertain them. We are trying to teach the kids not just the alphabet and the first words, but also make them go back to the book even after they have finished their year of study," explains Kamala Reddy, Project officer from ECE-AMS. The material, 50 storybooks, will be
sent to 1,655 alternative schools in the districts, where out-of-school
children are enrolled. It will also be sent to 23 residential bridge
schools, 84 non-residential schools and 495 ECE centres. "As a
teacher, I got a chance both to expand my understanding of children and
to turn my professional enthusiasm into something creative. And as a
mother who is terrified that her daughter is going to end up a couch
potato, I am optimistic. I am sure these books may be that extra
something for the kids to get more interested in school," says
Janaki. — WFS
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He defied
borders
A senior advocate and former Chairman, Bar Council of joint Punjab, Harbans Lal Sarin, enrolled as a lawyer on June 23, 1932 at Lahore. M. Monir, a brilliant jurist was, fortunately, his friend and mentor. While writing the original treatise on Evidence, Monir asked three of his friends, including Sarin, for help. The popular book was reprinted twice in two years. The second edition (of 1940) was also sold out as soon as it hit the shelves. The third edition was under preparation in the late 1940s when riots broke out shortly before Independence. Sarin had to leave Lahore at short notice. Before abandoning everything (including his extensive library, the pride of every lawyer) and jumping on to a truck with his family, he had the foresight to rush to a bank in Lahore and leave the handwritten manuscript of the third edition of the book on evidence in a locker. For next six months, the family (comprising his wife and three minor children) lived in a refugee camp at Dharamshala. When things seemed to have settled down, Sarin and a senior colleague of his, Late Justice Tek Chand of the Punjab High Court, got permits to return to Lahore. Monir (who was a judge of the Lahore High Court, then) arranged for permission for them to operate the bank locker and retrieve the manuscript. As they returned to Monir’s palatial residence, they got the news of Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination. Fearing the worst, it was decided that Sarin and Tek Chand would immediately return to Amritsar. Justice Monir had a huge staff. As luck would have it, he had to leave for inspection of a remote area, the same day. He lined up his entire staff and told them: "Tek Chand and Harbans Lal Sarin are my jigree dost. If anything happens to them, I would never forgive myself or any one of you". He even threatened to shoot them if any harm came to either of them. While two persons were to accompany Monir for inspection, the others were ordered to safely escort his two friends across the border at Amritsar. They made it across safely. Throughout their never-ending journey, from Lahore to Amritsar ( a distance of just over 30 miles), they had their hearts in their mouths. They did not know what would happen the next moment. That was the last time Sarin saw Justice Monir, who after his retirement died in exile in London in the 1970s. Sarin lived to publish the third edition of Monir’s Law of Evidence from Allahabad, followed by several others. More important than that he lived to narrate the positive story of human friendships (He rarely talked about the sordid, inhuman killings during the Partition). His positive attitude in life and his refusal to blame any particular group for the ugly happenings during the division of India, and his belief in the inherent goodness of man resulted in his bringing up five children in such a wonderful atmosphere that none of the children learnt to distinguish between two individuals on the basis of religious beliefs. They always propagated the universality of mankind and promoted friendship and goodwill towards all. Incidentally, Harbans Lal Sarin was my father and I was lucky to get the benefit of his foresight and wisdom.
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Woman behind the Mahatma Few know that Kasturba Gandhi was very much her own person and resisted Mahatma Gandhi’s attempts to dominate her. Rajiv M. Lochan reveals lesser-known aspects of Ba.
Kastur Kapadia was the only daughter from a houseful of sons. Her father, Gokaldas, was a rich businessman of Porbandar. Her brothers would become richer in the years to come. Gokaldas had betrothed Kastur at the age of 7, to Mohandas, the youngest son of the old Dewan of Porbandar, Karamchand Gandhi. The dewani, that too of a small, poverty-stricken prince, was not much to talk of. Moreover, Mohandas was the youngest of four brothers. Yet, this alliance might have provided the businessman with an anchor into the world of politics, power and administration. In the short run, this did not seem to be the case. The Gandhi family’s claim to the dewani did not survive Karamchand’s death. On their own, the four Gandhi sons found it difficult to make a decent place in the world. A decade later, however, things changed when Mohandas became the most successful Indian lawyer in South Africa. Even later, with Mohandas becoming the darling mahatma of the whole nation, the kinship with greatness that the alliance provided was far more than the businessman had asked. Gokaldas had married his daughter well. Kasturba spent the first few years of married life adjusting to the quirky ideas of her husband. Mohandas had got many of his early notions on marital duties and pleasures from the marriage manuals then so popular in India. Woman’s education, sexual behavior, relationship with friends, these were the subjects on which instructions were available. From these manuals Mohandas picked up the Pygmalion role. Kastur, however, was too homely to be a Galatea and too pig-headed for the role of Eliza Doolittle. So it was her husband who learnt lessons; not Kastur. When he forbade her to go out without his permission Kastur simply began to use her mother and sisters in-law as chaperons to go to the temple and visit people. Mohandas was livid. Obedient wives did not flout their husband’s wish. "Would you rather have me tell them that I cannot follow their instructions to accompany them out?" Kastur asked during the ensuing marital conflict. The annoyed husband had to simply back off. Then he devised another strategy to control her. By making her read and write, like a modern woman, he could dominate her, at least for the duration of the lesson. So Kastur’s husband decided to force her into literacy through daily lessons. Such educational cohabitation was not what she considered the essential ingredient of marital bliss. Her obstinacy in not learning finally got to her husband who began to search for other things to do. She would obey only when she chose to. Kastur would soon learn that her husband was just as obstinate in doing things he thought were right and that his ideas could move the world. The first such experience came when, going to set up house with him for the first time in 1897, she found herself almost jailed in a ship off the coast of Durban in South Africa. Virtually the entire White population of Durban had come to the port to ensure that Gandhi did not disembark. They were annoyed at his condemnation of the racism prevalent in South Africa. But instead of withdrawing his remarks, Mohandas insisted on convincing the Whites that they should treat Indians with greater respect and equality. Finally, after a stand-off lasting 25 days, it was he who had his say and they had to withdraw. Such public dealings would disrupt private life, but Kastur would soon learn to live with it and help her husband do even greater things in life.
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MAKING WAVES
The chord that this Chandigarh girl had struck with the Punjabi audiences in Delhi was a very creative celebration of Baisakhi and a story-reading session held to mark the 70th year of the Punjabi literary journal Preetlari. "I was wanting to do more programmes for the Punjabi audiences as they long for quality cultural fare from Punjab. My visit to Lahore, Wazirabad and Bulle Shah’s mazaar in Kasur changed my perspective. I wanted to bring Punjabis from both sides to meet and have meaningful cultural exchanges and thus in a small way re-write the tale of two Punjabs," says the lively Shumita. Her first step was to invite a delegation of seven painters, photographers and two young boys involved in preserving heritage in Wazirabad. After a lively show called Bin Border Barsaat, featuring artistes from the two Punjabs in Sri Ram Centre, the artists moved to a show in Shabnam Hashmi’s Anhad compound at Windsor place. From thence it was to the parks and streets of Delhi and Chandigarh making links with people who had migrated from West Punjab during the Partition. Shumita’s second visit to Lahore in April brought her into contact with Gulam Mohammad Chand, a rababi of the Mardan tradition who sang Gurbani. She invited him and his companions and Baba Chand took the audiences in Delhi and Punjab by storm as she presented them under the banner of Sanjhe Rang Punjab De. Besides inviting artists and writers, the group also traced and invited a fruit-seller from the outskirts of Lahore, Rashid Masih, to meet his sister Noopo, who works as domestic help in outskirts of Amritsar. "The two met after a gap of 50 long years. Celebrities will keep crossing the border. But our effort now is to encourage common people form both sides to cross borders, live in people’s homes and come closer. Sanjhe Rang Punjab De has members from both West and East Punjab." Bagful of design
At first glance, Meera Mahadevia looks like a glamorous model. Flowing hair, shining eyes, a smooth complexion and a figure to match make her an eminently suitable candidate for the catwalk or a sophisticated ad campaign on TV. But Meera’s pursuits lie far away from the frenetic world of models. She is a graduate of the fashion design school at Sophia College. "I went into fashion designing to begin with and made salwar kameezes. But during the late 80s, the market was full of women who turned out literally lakhs of outfits and every day in Mumbai, there was an exhibition. The shelves of all upmarket stores were also full of outfits. Though I did well, I needed to do something different and began to design Indian evening bags, using the many-splendoured silks and artistic containers available in India. First I made evening bags for my friends. I never publicised my work. But word of mouth publicity brought so many clients to my home that I soon became a busy entrepreneur." Meera works with professional karigaars who work in her factory where she fabricates bags of various designs. "My workers have become my family and they understand my ideas perfectly. Wherever I travel, I look for metal, wood or cloth — ingredients which can create novel bags. I follow trends correctly and introduce new designs and shapes in my work. For instance, just now, Mughal style bags and pouches are in vogue and I have resurrected motifs from the arches of the Taj Mahal and creepers from Kashmir — these were popular designs in the heydays of the Mughal rulers in Delhi." Meera also designs evening bags made from Nepali brassware, Ladakhi semi-precious stone clips, stone setting work from Rajasthan and Gujarat and ornamental frames from Kashmir. Shells, beads, embroidery with gold and silver, metal strips and old borders — all these are used innovatively and elegantly to create evening glamour for socialite women. She does not use any animal products. Meera clients have loved her bags so
much that most get sold from home though they are available in hi-end
stores all over India. Her export orders come from all European
countries, Thailand, Hong Kong, Spain, Britain, the UK, the US and
Pakistan. The secret of her designs is that they appeal to all ages.
Teenagers and dowagers, both buy them with equal alacrity and pleasure.
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Every
judge, lawyer or student of law in India today knows of the Commentary
on the Law of Evidence by Justice M. Monir, former Chief Justice of
Supreme Court of Pakistan. It was first published in 1936. This
commentary on drafted enactment, now in the edition, was almost lost
during the Partition.
The
memory of Kasturba Gandhi remains alive only as a revered name for
numerous girls schools and colleges. Few people remember that she
remained, all her life, the first person on whom the curious ideas of
the Mahatma were practised. Only after having tested his ideas on
Kasturba did Gandhi present them to the world. Even fewer people know
that she was one of the few persons in history who was not taken in by
the Mahatma’s charms and really stood her own ground before the
Mahatma’s moral aggression. Others who could do this included Ambalal
Sarabhai, the industrialist from Ahmedabad and Motilal Nehru, the
Allahabad-based lawyer.
Among
the 150-odd Indian delegates who went to participate in the World
Punjabi Conference at Lahore in January, 2004, was Shumita Didi Sandhu,
who had set up a small cultural group in Delhi called Eclectica. The
group had to its credit a handful of activities and a couple of
publications.
These
days, films and stars set new trends in every area of life — and
naturally, beauty and fashion are two fields over which they rule like
emperors? If blockbusters like Devdasand Veer Zaara brought a
wave of khandaani jewellery, the recent sexed-up version of
Mughal-e-Azam has let loose a storm of Mughal style churidar pants,
precious stone studded jewellery and elegant handbags with Mughal motifs
not only in India but in the UK and the USA! Many designers of clothes
and accessories have taken this tide at its high and launched their new
designs to meet international demands. Among these, Meera Mahadevia has
made a tremendous impact with her dainty evening bags, which reflect the
grandeur of the Mughal courts!