'Vibrant hues of nascent dreams and aspirations...'- How working with CRY helped Aishwarya realize the beauty of education

A foul stench invaded my nostrils, as I barely dodged the towering pile of garbage which blocked the narrow road, obscured behind the blaring red “Prince ki Rasoi” board. I stopped to observe its contents, carefully holding in my breath, and was unpleasantly alarmed by the diverse variety it proffered- rotting vegetable waste, polythene bags fluttering aimlessly, a rodent carcass or two, a hint of excreta. I instantly averted my gaze, a knot tightening in my weak gut. The miniature garbage dump stood haughtily in front of a cluster of jhuggis(temporary establishments) which were abuzz with activity. Two little kids emerged from the tiny houses, clad in the magnanimous entirety of pink and purple underpants, solely shielding them from the 8 degree harrowing Delhi winter.

The biting cold was visibly the least of their concerns, as they whizzed past me and disappeared down the meandering lane- their wide grins stretching all the way up to their tiny ears. They left loud amused shrieks interspersed with hearty tittering in their wake, and I followed them, an involuntary smile creeping up my unsuspecting face as well. The smile was brusquely wiped off after my cowardly existence was faced with an enraged street dog that chased me all the way into the heart of the slum, my chase sequence punctuated with yelps and pleas. Exasperated with my relentless cowardice, the dog abandoned me, leaving me alone and perplexed in a clearing where three roads met- and also where the odor of stale fish met with faeces to create olfactory magic.

Just when I was about to give up in my quest, a big colorful board caught my eye. The words “Bal Shiksha Kendra” were etched in rough cursive- with some stray flowers embellishing the corners of the letters.  My heart leapt with joy, and I hastily quickened my pace in anticipation. From 100 meters away itself, my ears caught the unmistakable clamor of activity and juvenile excitement. Within no time, I was at the entrance of the humble establishment.

           

My breath came in short and quick gasps now. I entered the corridor, which was aesthetically lined with paintings- of flowers, and animals and people and things- cars, buses, oranges, ostriches, you name it, and there it was, a fantastic manifestation of the children’s creativity! It felt as if I had stepped foot into a world completely removed from the stark poverty and despair which infested the desolate land outside those doors-  a world which was buoyant with imagination and painted with the vibrant hues of nascent dreams and aspirations.

I followed the chanting of the English alphabet which reverberated loudly in the corridors and soon I found myself exchanging stares with a class of very tiny and very estrogen-inundating faces of kindergarteners- their eyes glistening with awe and curiosity.  After the two minute long staring tournament, they chanted- “Good Morning Ma’am” in practiced unison as I felt a warm fuzzy feeling besiege my ears.

And that warm greeting kick-started the best month of my life. Throughout my life I have revered the work of an educator; and this was the first time I could truly and deeply comprehend its beauty and nobility. With each question I sought answers to, from my students, in a bid to challenge their intellect and creativity, and with each concept I instilled into their young, impressionable minds- I felt an unmatched sense of responsibility and power encompass me. With every new word they would learn and thereafter roll on their tongues funnily, my heart would swell with pride, because harboring the knowledge that I was potentially changing a life, and enabling a brighter and more promising future was *sigh* glorious! And that heavenly feeling would embrace my consciousness everyday and flood me with renewed rapture and satisfaction.

Watching Anita’s curious face light up each time a surprise quiz was announced, or catching Neel stealing glances laced with yearning at his beloved football in the middle of the class, or looking on in amusement at Samrat’s hand shoot up in triumph every time he knew the answer,  watching Rekha’s eyes twinkle with gratitude each time she would grasp a difficult concept to observing the change in Chetan’s gait each time he made a flawless painting - made me think, what if Anita, Rekha, Neel, Samrat and Chetan’s parents had succumbed to the lust of those extra couple hundred bucks a day? The painting book would have been usurped by a trembling tray of tea, the football and textbooks by a drenched mop sliding off miniscule, weary hands, and the stationary and story books with filthy utensils and a searing hot frying pan. The thought would make my heart pound out of my chest with apprehension; each time it crossed my mind. The respect for their parents mounted within me; it took courage and infallible will to sustain educating their child despite the avalanche of adversity surrounding them.  

While a teacher at the Bal Shiksha Kendra, I made sure to forego all conventional teaching practices- and adopted my self-devised teaching techniques, because which young student appreciates a 20s something droning on ceaselessly?

Quizzes, games, extempore and competitions were incorporated into their curriculum with immediate effect, with my arrival- post which I actually witnessed their learning curve shoot up exponentially.

Wading through the pitiable garbage reserves, stifling my respiratory system for all of ten minutes,  was now something I looked forward to- owing to the magnificence of the experience of imparting knowledge and happiness to the children. One smile on their innocuous faces was worth a 10km hike on a landfill, if that was what it took. My days at the Bal Shiksha Kendra were coming to a close, something which shrouded me with gloom. My time had not only given me the opportunity of exploring the magnificent intricacies of being a teacher, but had also filled me with nostalgia of my school days- the uninhibited mirth, the jostling, the friendly competition, the weightlessness stemming from the absence of responsibilities- something I relived fully.

Yesterday, I caught myself staring at the little, lone kid meticulously chasing a tyre outside my window; clad skimpily in his underwear- my heart heavy with reminiscence, which was all too recent and familiar.

Nonetheless, I will always be thankful to CRY, who partnered with LEU Foundation and

gave me this serendipitous opportunity to volunteer as a teacher at Bal Shiksha

Kendra, and blend with their incredibly talented and bright students. This experience will

remain etched in my heart forever.

- Aishwarya Mishra

Student, Delhi Technological University