‘Sankalp is not like your regular school. We will be working closely with your children to teach them English and maths. And it is free,’ the social workers had explained.
The ladies were hesitant.
‘Who will do the morning chores? We go to work. Someone has to be there to take care of the household.’
‘What use is this “free school”? They are going to regular school anyway.’
‘It’s an utter waste of time if you are going to be teaching the same things their school anyway teaches.’
These were the arguments they made. They could only see that sending their children to this ‘free school’—in addition to their regular school—would interfere with the daily tasks that most of the children in the settlement performed. Clothes had to be washed, little babies had to be fed, and food had to be cooked. If the girls went off early in the morning, the women would have to work even harder, waking up an hour earlier.
The social workers had then explained to the women about Sankalp. It was not like the schools that their children attended, where the teachers were over-burdened, they said. Those regular schools were not very effective when it came to academic performance. The pass percentage of the students enrolled at Sankalp was 93 per cent, compared to the state average of 54 per cent. Sankalp was running successfully in many other Indian cities, and they told the women how fortunate they were that their locality had been chosen for a branch. Many Sankalp children had been accepted in mainstream colleges. Even though some of the children in the slum settlement went to English-medium schools, none of them could converse in English, and that was what Sankalp taught them. Once they were proficient in English, a lot more doors opened and they would get higher paying jobs. All of this was explained in Marathi by the social workers to the group of women and a few men. They had been enticed to attend the meeting with an offer of free samosas and tea.
The social workers had then brought in a couple of children who had graduated from Sankalp and gone on to make a success of their lives. These teenagers had narrated their experiences and talked about the ways in which Sankalp had transformed their lives. The prospect of better employment opportunities was what had convinced the women, and they agreed to send their children to Sankalp.
Kanika explained all this to Ron and Veda as they made their way back to the office complex. Ron knew a part of the story, as the Carman Foundation had investigated the organisation in detail before agreeing to give them a grant. However, he listened politely, as he found the bit about having to convince the women to send their children to Sankalp interesting.
For Veda, it was all new, and she listened with rapt attention. She felt like a child who had discovered a closed door in the house she had grown up in. Now, suddenly, the door had opened, and she had got a glimpse into the fascinating and difficult world it contained.
Chapter 18
July 1996
Sankalp, Pune
When they reached the office complex, Kanika took them to the part of the building that housed the food joints. This area had many restaurants, and it was where most of the office-goers hung out. She indicated a coffee shop which had a large striped canopy that opened out onto the inner quadrangle, providing shade. The wrought iron chairs and tables under the canopy, as well as the many potted plants with brightly coloured tiny flowers, added to the relaxed, casual, European ambience.
‘This a nice place,’ said Ron.
‘Yes, it is. Their coffee is good too. Shall we sit there?’ Kanika asked, pointing to a comfortable looking sofa, which was inside the coffee shop.
‘Yes, let’s do that. I will join in you a bit. I have to go to the washroom,’ said Ron, as he excused himself.
Veda had never seen such a nicely decorated coffee shop anywhere in Joshimath or Pune. She looked around with approval and thought about how she and Bhuwan had never ever gone out all by themselves for a nice meal or even for a cup of coffee.
‘So, do you come here often?’ she asked Kanika.
‘Almost never. I am always busy with the students of Sankalp. It is only when we have visitors like Ron, that I get a chance to come here,’ said Kanika.
When Ron emerged from the washroom, Veda saw that he had lost the tie. His sleeves were rolled up, and his shoes were spotless again.
Kanika smiled at him as he joined them. ‘So, you cleaned up?’
‘Yes, oh yes; I couldn’t possibly walk around in those shoes. They were filthy,’ he said, scrunching up his nose.
Veda smiled.
Over coffee, Kanika asked Ron about himself. They learnt that he was from Birmingham. His mother’s main job was as an administrative assistant at a private firm. His father had abandoned them shortly after Ron’s birth. He had an older brother and an older sister. His mother had later taken up a second job at a large retail store. Since she worked two jobs and was a single mother, she had applied to the council for financial aid. The council had contributed towards the education of the three children, as they were academically bright. They had been sent to boarding schools at a very young age. Soon after Ron had finished college, he had joined the Carman Charity Foundation. One of the founders of Sankalp knew a board member of the foundation, which was how they had learned of Sankalp’s work and decided to give them a grant. But now they wanted a progress report, and Ron had jumped at the opportunity to travel to India.
Ron asked Kanika about herself.
‘Oh, I have lived in Pune all my life. I finished college, and I joined a corporate at twenty-two. After working for five years, I was burnt out. I had travelled so much, working with companies to deliver their requirements. But honestly, it did nothing for me. I had made quite a bit of money. So I quit, and now here I am,’ said Kanika.
‘And what about you, Veda?’ asked Ron.
This was the first time he had addressed her directly. Veda found him looking right into her eyes, and she was startled by the colour of his. They seemed to bore into her very soul.
‘Uhhh . . . I am married, and I moved to Pune from Joshimath, where I grew up. I just finished the final year of my college,’ she said. She did not want to tell him that she had failed in her exams. She thought that detail was not necessary. She also did not trust herself to bring up the topic without her eyes brimming over with tears.
But Ron was not even thinking about her academics.
‘Oh! How wonderful that you have found that special someone you want to share the rest of your life with,’ he said, smiling.
Veda wanted to tell him that it wasn’t the way he was imagining it. She did not see Bhuwan as her ‘special someone’. As far as she was concerned, he was just her husband, a man chosen by her parents. Yes, she was married to him, but she didn’t share too many things with him. Wasn’t a ‘special someone’ a soulmate? The one you discussed things with, the one you looked forward to meeting at the end of the day, the one in whose arms everything felt right? At least that was what the books she read had told her.
Veda did not think that someone from the Western world would be able to comprehend the complexities of Indian society, and its family-centric culture, where you obeyed your parents unquestioningly.
She didn’t say any of this to Ron though, nor did she see any point in explaining things. So she said nothing.
But Kanika and Ron were both looking at her, waiting for her to respond.
‘Umm . . . Yes . . . I guess,’ she said finally.
Kanika laughed.
‘I guess?’ she said, imitating Veda’s hesitant tone.
Veda found her cheeks turning red, like she had been caught out in a lie.
‘I suppose I mean yes,’ said Veda, haltingly. Kanika could see that she was squirming and did not want to talk about it.
‘Okay, okay, I was just teasing,’ said Kanika, instantly regretting making Veda uncomfortable. The poor girl has too much going on already, without having to deal with my teasing as well, she thought.
There was a moment of awkward silence. Ron sensed it
and he asked a question about Sankalp. Kanika jumped in to answer, and with that, the tension dissipated, and the moment passed.
Once they’d had their coffee, Kanika asked Ron and Veda if they would like to see the classrooms out of which Sankalp operated.
Ron said he would very much like that. Veda too was keen on seeing them.
Kanika led both of them to the basement of the office complex where the classrooms were located.
Once they descended the stairs, they were directly in the ‘classrooms’.
Ron and Veda looked a little puzzled. These were open spaces without any walls. There were pillars at equal intervals to support the structure. This looked like some parking lot, sans vehicles. Where were the ‘rooms’?
‘Which way now?’ Ron asked.
‘Here! We are right here, in the classrooms,’ smiled Kanika.
‘What?’
Ron had not expected it to be this rudimentary.
‘Yes, do you see those tables there?’ Kanika pointed to one end of the large, open basement.
Veda and Ron looked in the direction that she was pointing. Stacked behind a pillar were two rickety wooden tables and two chairs.
‘That’s it,’ said Kanika. ‘We have two more tables and chairs like this one and that is the second classroom,’ she said, pointing a little further.
‘Oh—but where are the benches and desks? Where do the children sit?’ Veda asked.
‘They sit here on the floor! We have mats for them,’ said Kanika, as she walked towards the table. Behind the pillar stood two old steel almirahs, side by side. She opened one of them and took out several colourful straw and cloth mats.
‘See these? We spread them out and this is where they sit,’ she said.
‘Where are all the children now?’ Ron asked.
‘Today, there is a festival in the wadi, where they live. So none of them will attend class. Today is an off for them,’ said Kanika.
‘Oh, yes! Choo—tea,’ said Ron, as he had heard Sharan saying earlier.
Veda and Kanika both looked puzzled for a moment and then laughed as they realised that the word he was trying to say was ‘chutti’.
‘Not bad! You have already picked up Hindi, I am impressed,’ said Kanika.
Ron pretended to bow.
‘Shall we go back and meet the rest of the team, Ron? You can join us in the classrooms tomorrow for observation, if you like,’ said Kanika.
‘Yes, that sounds perfect,’ said Ron.
‘So, now that you have seen Sankalp, do you think you would like to join us as a volunteer, Veda?’ Kanika asked.
Veda thought about the options she had. She could refuse to be a volunteer, in which case she would have to stay at home with her mother-in-law all day and become her slave again. The endless days would stretch out in front of her, as she did not have college to attend anymore. She would go insane with boredom.
On the other hand, if she joined Sankalp, she could interact with so many people. She had liked Kajol and had been impressed by her. Her earlier meeting with Sharan too had impressed her. These children were pragmatic and accepted the cards that life had dealt them. She wanted to work with them and get to know them.
She did not hesitate when she replied. ‘I would very much like to volunteer, Kanika. Are there . . . er . . . any minimum educational qualifications to join as a volunteer?’ she asked, unsure about that detail.
‘All we need is for you to be proficient in basic maths and English. You also need a positive attitude. You can volunteer in three areas—fundraising, teaching or admin. Which one would you prefer?’
Veda did not hesitate about that either. She definitely wanted to interact with the children.
‘Teaching,’ she said.
‘Oh, one more thing. You have to commit to be a volunteer for a minimum period of six months. The reason is that Sankalp invests a lot in the training programme. We use our resources to train people well, and we want only serious and committed people. Are you good with that?’
Veda was more than happy to agree.
‘Let’s go to the admin office and get the paperwork out of the way then. And Ron, you can meet the others there. I shall introduce you,’ said Kanika, as she led them to the fifth floor.
The administration department was a small space in a corporate office that was a sponsor of Sankalp. They had given a cabin to the volunteers of Sankalp within their office premises, and this was where the non-teaching staff operated from. They were a team of four people—three women and a man.
‘This is Aparna, she heads the team here. So, she is the boss lady,’ said Kanika, as she introduced Ron and Veda.
Aparna was short, slim and very business-like in her manner. She wore glasses and her grey hair was cut very short. She wore a fitted kurti and knee length shorts. Her sartorial choice was unusual, but she managed to look smart. She looked slightly hassled and annoyed, and gave the impression that Kanika had interrupted something important.
‘So you decide who stays here and who goes?’ quipped Ron.
‘Yes, I do,’ said Aparna. She did not smile.
‘I want to thank the members of the Carman Foundation for supporting our cause. Do convey my regards and deep gratitude to them,’ she told Ron.
Ron replied that it was a pleasure and he would do that.
Then Aparna addressed Veda.
‘Are you considering volunteering here?’ she asked.
‘Yes, ma’am, I am,’ said Veda. She did not know why she had addressed Aparna as ‘ma’am’. Perhaps it was because she reminded Veda of her headmistress, and she exuded authority.
‘Good. We need volunteers. Has Kanika explained the rules to you?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Aparna, I have told her,’ said Kanika, and she looked at Veda pointedly, as though to tell her not to be intimidated by Aparna, and that she did not have to call her ‘ma’am’.
‘Any experience teaching kids?’ asked Aparna.
Veda thought of the countless times she and Vidya had tutored their younger siblings. She had read to them, supervised their homework and coached them.
‘Yes, I have tutored children,’ she found herself saying, quickly dispensing with addressing Aparna as ‘ma’am’.
‘Alright. The training session for new volunteers starts on Monday, and it goes on till Wednesday. Does that suit you?’ she asked Veda.
‘Uh, yes, yes. I am fine with that,’ said Veda.
‘Alright. You will first start out as a teacher’s assistant. At the end of six weeks, or maybe even earlier, based on your performance, you could be offered a teaching position. Our teaching positions are full-time, and they are paid. As a volunteer, you will not be paid. Are you okay with that?’ Aparna asked.
‘Yes, I am good with that,’ said Veda. This was even better than she had hoped. There was a chance for her to get a paying job!
‘Good. You can fill up the forms then. Himanshu, please help her,’ said Aparna, addressing the young man sitting in a corner, buried in a pile of paperwork.
‘Sure. Please fill these. And we will need two passport sized photos too,’ he said, handing Veda the forms.
Veda took them from him and thanked him.
As she, Kanika and Ron exited the building, Veda stowed the forms carefully in her handbag. She was excited at the prospect of starting to teach at Sankalp.
‘Veda, it’s wonderful that you have decided to join us. I am looking forward to working with you,’ Kanika said.
‘Me too,’ said Veda.
Kanika would never get how much this opportunity meant to Veda. It had come to her at a time when she was feeling despondent and lost. She felt that the universe was conspiring and shining light on a path that she would have never considered, had she not failed her exams.
Veda’s twenty-first birthday was in two days. She couldn’t help reflect that this was probably the best birthday gift that life had handed to her. She couldn’t wait for the training sessions to start, so that she could start teac
hing Kajol and the other children.
Chapter 19
August 1996
Pune
Dear Vidya,
It has been a while since we wrote to each other. I am sorry for the delay from my side. It was wonderful that we got to speak on my birthday. I felt happy talking to you. Bhuwan took me out for dinner that evening. Vikki joined us, and so did my MIL. But since Vikki was around, it was fun. We went to an upmarket restaurant in Koregaon Park, and got back home at around 11.30. Bhuwan gifted me a silver pendant, which I liked. I shall show it to you, when we meet next.
First things first—even though I told you this on the phone, I must mention it here again: I am very happy to hear that you did well in your Class 12 exams, and that you are looking forward to joining college. Congratulations, my dear sister! Well done.
There has been a lot happening at my end, as you probably know from Ma and Papa. I did tell them the news from my side on the phone, but you how it is—I can never speak freely on the phone. So I am writing to you, in detail.
Let me get the not-so-good things out of the way first. As you probably know, I failed my final year exams. (I did not mention this to you when we spoke on the phone, as I didn’t want to talk about it on my birthday.) I took it very badly for the first week or so. I couldn’t talk about it without crying. But you know what they say, right? When God closes one door, he opens another. It may be a cliché, Vidya, but I can vouch that it is true. In my case, the ‘other door’ came in the form of Kanika.
Kanika is Shanta aunty’s daughter, and she is my new friend. I don’t remember if I mentioned her in my previous letters to you. If I haven’t, it is because I barely knew her till last month. I met her fortuitously on the day I got my exam results, as my MIL ‘forgot’ to tell me that she would be going out, and I ended up spending most of the day with Kanika.
Kanika is a fun, feisty person. I wish I had some of her qualities. She and Bhuwan grew up together. She works at an NGO called Sankalp. I am enclosing a brochure for you about the organisation with this letter. Once you read it, you will understand the kind of work they do, their mission, and most importantly, their impact. Sankalp now has branches in five cities in India, and they are rapidly expanding.
The Rule Breakers Page 15
