Slum children practice Rugby at Oval Maidan. (Nirmal Harindran)
ONE OF the basic rules of rugby is that the ball can only be passed, or thrown, to a player behind, never in front. However, 14-year-old Abhishek Chavan has his own way of getting the message across. “Abbe, peeche waale ko do,” he yells at a teammate.
About 120 children, aged about 10-18, from South Mumbai slums assemble in a corner of the Oval Maidan every Saturday. In the landmark open field, where cricket dominates and a few are seen playing football along the
periphery, rugby enthusiasts are outsiders. But they play as if they belong there.
For younger ones, catching the egg-shaped ball, which is sometimes half their size, is sheer joy. For players like Abhishek, it’s a bit more serious. For the organisers, however, the sport is the greatest lure to bring children to school.
Coach Anwar Shaikh said, “Most of these kids don’t like to study, even in municipal schools that offer free education. But they love rugby. So, we don’t allow children to play unless are in school,” he added.
Shaikh, along with several others, is part of a charitable organisation Magicians Foundation India (MFI). The coaches, all of whom hail from South Mumbai slums, have been part of various state and national-level championships.
The lure of rugby to make children join school has been relatively successful for the group, but the task at hand has been challenging, said a coach.
Even today, as the NGO has completed a year, coaches say they are alarmed by the high percentage of school dropouts. Abhishek is one of them. The teen has been in-and-out of the Colaba Municipal School, since his dwelling at an illegal slum near Nariman Point was demolished three years ago. “I don’t have a permanent residence right now, but my family may soon move to Nallasopara,” he adds.
The dropout problem does not just stem from children’s interest in schools, a coach pointed out. Since they all come from slums, economic conditions are harsh and parents are more interested in sending their children out for work, he added.
For instance, 11-year-old Sanjana Rathore used to visit Sassoon Docks to clean fish before joining school. “Now, I’m in class three,” she says as she runs to attend another set of passing drills.
She is among a handful of girls to play there. It has been a harder task to get parents to allow girls to play a contact sport, a coach added.
In that respect, Payal Kanojia acts as a role model. The 19-year-old comes from the Ganesh Murti slum and serves as a coach during sessions. “I meet the parents and tell them that I’ve come from the same background they have. I convince them that it’s good to let girls play,” says the first-year Bachelor of Arts student. “But it doesn’t work always,” she adds.
Rehmuddin Shaikh — assistant coach of the senior women’s and junior boys and girls national team, is also a member of the MFI.
In August, when the U-20 national girls’ team returned from Hong Kong after finishing fourth at the Asian U-20 Championships, Rehmuddin organised a meeting between the parents and the team. “About 35 parents came for the meeting. The girls talked about playing and really tried to motivate them. It helped to an extent,” he says.
Each session ends with a quick game of touch rugby and a “ganna juice” treat later. Somnath Chavan, a second-year student of commerce, takes charge of rounding up the students for the juice treat. “Everybody gets a cool drink at the end, even the ones who have dropped out. It doesn’t matter because you don’t know who will not show up the next week,” Somnath says.