Opinion | Educational institutions have a role in shaping democracy
4 min read . Updated: 08 May 2019, 02:50 PM ISTOnce considered temples of democracy, some schools have become antithetical to the idea
The great Banyan was shielding them from the sun. It wasn’t yet blazing in late March but the open was hot. The two little girls were swinging and slipping from the dangling roots. Too young to be alone at home while their parents were out earning their daily wage, they had accompanied their siblings to the school. They were also too young to be in class one and so had a free run of the school. When I encountered them, they had decided to occupy the chabutra over which the Banyan grew. There was a mazaar on one corner of the chabutra, which itself was just after the entrance on the western edge of the school quadrangle.
Lakshmi and Mary accosted me without interrupting their swinging, interrogating me in tandem. Clinging to the roots they were at my eye level. Once they were satisfied that I was not a teacher they challenged me to beat them at their game. As I was climbing up the chabutra, they shouted together, ‘baba ka ghar hai, joote utar ke aao’. I slipped off my shoes, climbed up and played with them for a few minutes and then wanted to leave. They asked me whether I was leaving because I was thirsty. I told them that the head-teacher was waiting for me, and in unison they said ‘wo achche sir hain’.
Within the first twenty minutes in class 6, in another school which I had visited earlier, the children had my measure. Not one child was left out of the banter. When they asked my name, I said ‘Mohandas Gandhi’. Many of them started shrieking that the Mahatma was dead. Then I said, ‘Narendra Modi’, they rolled over with laughter. I challenged them, ‘why do you think I am not the Prime Minister?’. And so, it went.
‘Aap mussalman hain?’, one of the kids asked me and others repeated the question. Why did they think I was Muslim I asked, and they pointed at my beard, ‘aapki daadhi hai’. My reply that I was indeed a Muslim, paused the banter, the puzzlement visible on their faces. Then one of them shouted, ‘nahi aap mussalman nahi ho!’, the assertion echoing around the class. How have they concluded that I am not Muslim? The response was instantaneous, ‘kyunki aap achche aadmi ho’ (because you are a good man).
In the school with the great Banyan I sat at the back of class 8. They were discussing the elections from a few months earlier, not the politics but the electoral process. There was a disagreement on the reason for some constituencies being reserved, the teacher intervened and then stepped back, letting the conversation flow, facilitated by two students. After a while, the teacher turned to me, and asked me to have a chat with the students.
What is the point of democracy, I asked. It is the best way to live and govern. Why? Because we are all equal. Are we really equal? Yes, we are; we are all human beings and we are equal. Socially and economically we are not equal today – but democracy will get us there. For example, the reserved constituencies are a method towards such equality. In fact, democracy is not the best way but the only way. I pressed them, but why are we equal? That question led to a five-minute conference of the children. Once they concluded, they faced me and declared, ‘kyunki sab insaan andar se achche hote hain’ (because all humans are good inside).
‘Musalman bhi achche hote hain?’, I asked. And they laughed loudly. Why are you laughing? Because it’s a ridiculous question, totally ridiculous, ‘mazaar waale baba sabse achche the; sub insaan achche hote hain’. They said a lot more, with pride about the school’s parliament, animatedly about caste and gender equity, and thoughtfully about superstitions. Then I left, for the next school.
Last fortnight when I wrote about schools being temples of democracy, I received two kinds of criticisms. First, that many of those who embodied anti-constitutional values, were highly educated. Second, that the metaphor of the temple was dangerous, leading directly to the word of the school becoming gospel, undermining all critical faculties. Temples are amongst the most potent of our institutions and cannot be held hostage, neither as a metaphor by fears, nor in reality; but this matter deserves a detailed response.
The first criticism is a misreading of that piece, or, perhaps it lacked clarity. Schools must be temples of democracy – but only a relatively small proportion are today effectively that. Many are the antithesis. No wonder that some of the most educated are the most bigoted, bereft of humaneness, and, anti-democratic. Many are also comically unaware of their own state, wallowing in material success, with impenetrable self-belief in their being paragon citizens.
The contrast between the two schools, within a few miles, is representative of our education system. We need to make all our schools, like the one with the chabutra. Education and its institutions cannot bear the entire burden of developing a vibrant democracy, but their role is significant.
The two little girls were flat, flopped on the chabutra, when I was leaving. ‘Baba ko namaste kar ke jao’, they commanded, which I did. And then I left. With Lakshmi, Mary, and the mazaar, under the great Banyan – the national tree of the republic of India – in a real temple of democracy.
Anurag Behar Is CEO of Azim Premji Foundation and also leads sustainability initiatives at Wipro Ltd