Exploitation of the weak

A few weeks back, in the Malayala Manorama T V conclave, an annual mega media event in Kochi, in which many top national level stalwarts from politics, industry, business, sports, media, arts etc had active participation, there was an item, an intimate one to one live telecast talk between Kerala's one of the top T V journalists John Lucas with film super star Kamal Haasan. John started with an innocent statement almost like this.
I remember I had interviewed you a few years back and then I had asked you one question. It was this. Almost all super stars from the Tamil film industry enter politics. Why you are not doing it? At that time, you replied:
They are better actors than me. Now you are forming your own political party and going to the electorate.
Kamal Haasan was silent for a moment. That silence was the reply from his heart and there was no need of another question or answer for all of us. Of course he cleverly came out with some words within two seconds.
What is wrong with an actor becoming our elected leader? Nothing wrong. But the truth is, the democracy in India is still not part of the mindset of most of us. A great majority of the electorate is easily guided by the extraneous factors like dynasty, religion, caste, language, fame in their field and money power. Almost all the ideologies sworn by the political parties are fungible with power and naturally, hypocrisy plays a very eminent role in the election process.
Exploitation of the weak is inherent in all living organisms. Humans have developed it as part of their mindset and are super efficient in execution to such an extent that the weak doesn't even suspect that they are exploited. It starts from family. While it grows, our education, interaction and survival instincts make us create wisdom and laws with hidden motive of grabbing the best of benefits and power to as few as possible. The statistics of averages and sermons ensure that the weaker will remain ignorant of the game.
Can such a scenario be changed ? If so how?
Any ideas?
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I learnt a lesson in our democracy.

I learnt a lesson in our democracy.
In our resurrection of a new Kerala after the deluge, we should give more importance to our real leaders in th village and local bodies who are intimately connected the neighbourhood.
A true story.
Ramcharan is one of the 2.5 million unskilled/semi-skilled workers from east and north east states now in Kerala making it their temporary homes and quite satisfied with their conditions, wages and acceptance in the society. Ramcharan is
from a remote Bihar village, illiterate, but knowledgeable in simple arithmetic, can handle elementary mobile apps well, pucca religious, thrifty and supports his family of wife, mother and three children in his village from what he earns here, now around 20000 a month. He has many dreams on his school going children whom he meets only during his annual vacation trips during Diwali. He has accepted me as a close friend because I can speak his colloquial Hindi well and he knows I am some sort of celebrity. He is aware that in India there are two classes, ruling and ruled and it is a rare experience for him to find a person from the ruling class, he has slotted me there, to be on chummy equal terms with a person from the ruled class. Unheard of !
It was 2014. Parliament election time. I asked him.
Ramcharan, are you not going home for chunav?
Kaun sa chunav, babuji?
Lok sabha chunav? The election to select our Prime Minister?
Pradhan Manthriji? Dilli ke? Usmem hamara kya hai? Voh tho dilli ki Gandhi madam aur Laluji karenge. What have I got to do?
I was stunned. The truth! Almost shot point blank on my great democratic concept! Somehow I got my equilibrium back in a few seconds.
I asked.
So you don’t vote. Ramcharan, it is not correct.
No no. Babuji, no. no. I go and vote. In the panchayath election. Look babuji, my family is there. I am here. They should have proper help and protection. My ward member should be a good man.
This was an eye opener for me. For the vast majority of Indian voters, whom we don’t care much in the high profile blaw-blaw of authoritarian political party set up mostly controlled by the dynastic or religious attractive vote-catching
machinery, the election is a process in which he has practically no role.

Amma, three minutes please

                 
             My grand niece, a techie brilliant girl, a mother of  two, a girl and a boy, working in a sufficiently high position in a global firm in Dubai, but purely malayalee, rang me up. 
              Valiammava, I am resigning my job. 
              Why, what happened? Fed up or quarrelled with my nephew or your office boss? 
              No no, it is your great grand niece, Shilpa, my one and only daughter  and your close friend. By the way,did she talk to you recently? 
              I lied.
              No.
              Shilpa is eleven. Unpredictable and intelligent. She 
often calls me for giving advices and my nephew, her father is certain that we are of the same age. When he mentioned this to Shilpa once (it was two years back) in my presence, she told him. This bookman grand uncle is 80 only and since 0 has no value, he is 8 and hence I am elder to him. 
              Now my grand niece said: 
              Yesterday Shilpa came to me with a sheet of paper, a print-out she had prepared. It was a contract and she asked me to sign. It was a simple one line contract.
              She now read it to me.
              I hereby agree to give nine minutes of my time every day to my daughter, Shilpa, three minutes each, three times a day, first in the morning before I go to school. three minutes when I return in the afternoon and three minutes before sleep. These nine minutes are for my daughter and I will hear her.  I promise that I will  not use even a second of it for giving advice or lecture to her or comparing her with others. 
              See, last night I couldn't sleep. I was really upset. I think she is correct. I, in all my parental wisdom, was seeing her only through my love and not through her eyes. I was engineering her behavior without knowing what she wanted. 
To day morning, I started with the first three minutes and heard her. You know, her eyes lighted with an inner joy when I listened to her. I had never experienced nor even thought that such a beautiful heaven was with me and waiting for me to open the door. 
            I didn't reply or give any advice, but just told her that she can try for a job which allowed her to be at home when her daughter returns from school.  
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I am my own school

I am my own school

                             

            If you go to Ujjain, the almost modern city in the present Madhya Pradesh with perhaps one of the oldest citadel of the best education of India’s legendary past, you can find a kaleidoscopic picture of the evolution of our education system.

           Let us start with puranas. The 5000 years old Sandipani asram, the first of our still visible   educational set-up, a totally teacher controlled  in-house one, with the saint Sandeepani accommodating all Kshatriya princes and talented Brahmin boys, admitted and taught everything from science to statecraft to wrestling to music to philosophy to swimming, with general studies and then specialization in whatever their and position and talents expect them to do when they come out of the school. Make them efficient to perform their duties well in their ore-destined spot in the society was the motto of Sanjeevani Asram School. The Pandavas and Kauravas were students there and Lord Krishna and the pious and poor Brahmin Sudama (Kuchela) got education there. Of course everybody had to help the teacher’s wife to run the house where they all stayed together. She was a mother, strict warden and part time teacher. The boys had long excursions to various parts of central and western India from the hills to the sea. Even now, you can sit on the allegedly same reddish rock stone steps of the tank adjacent to the Ashram where Sri krishna used to sit and tell stories of his fishy episodes in Vrindavan with Radha, his girl friend, almost the same way as the present 12 year olds pass on their first love affair pictures to his Whatsapp friends.

               Then the next stage came. Around 2000 years back, Kalidasa, the eternal literary giant appears. He was an illiterate, but highly talented and personally blessed by Saraswati Devi, the Goddess of words. He had the best of education from the King Vikranaditya’s court where the Navaratnas, the nine gems, the top intellectuals and experts in various fields were available. And storytelling became the conduit of education. In  perhaps the best ever literary work, fiction created in any language, Sakunthalam drama, Kalidasa very beautifully included the political, economic, scientific and social wisdom by subtly changing part of the story of Sakuntala from the original Mahabharata. Even salabhanjikas, the marble statues of palanquins on the 18 steps to the throne and Vethala, a bat type animal-human started telling stories with full of wisdom and practical knowledge. It was the real education. Panchathantra, kathasrithsagaram and Jathaka tales were all stories with wisdom and education passed on through generations almost orally by wandering bards and it was a parallel learning platform for the poor. The education came out of teacher’s iron physical control.  

               The British came and lo, they changed the entire structure. They wanted English knowing clerks and an educational set up was created with stress on study of English language first and foremost. As an unavoidable hazard, British law and history and basics of science and their culture were brought in. Schools, colleges and universities appeared slowly, poor imitators of British institutions. Now, in Ujjain, Sandeepani and Kalidasa are out and Vikram University rules the area. About sixty years back, I was in Ujjain searching for Sandeepani and Kalidasa and found the picturesque green semi-forest area of Vikram University, named after King Vikramaditya. Many mounts and small hills. Three rivulets flowing to Kshipra, the river with perennial water flow and sacred memories, and the lush colourful surroundings. The university was affiliating dozens of colleges of almost all faculties then available, history to physical education (the first ever sports college in India was the Lakshmi Bai College of Physical Education, Gwalior affiliated Vikram university situated about 400 km away), science to architecture and medical to literature. The new Sandeepani was there, the Vice-Chancellor, but he never had any communication with his sishyas and even the language which they used for written communication was foreign. But still relics of the past were occasionally felt in the atmosphere.

            Now six years back, I went to Ujjain. Almost the entire landscape changed. The fresh look was really beautiful, the buildings had the best of Europe mimicked Indian architecture, the air-conditioning in the class rooms were superb and teacher student day time friendship was pretty close and the library based inputs and changing examination styles gave a sophisticated pride to even the visitors like me.    

           Of course, we are not so great and royal as Oxford or Berkeley, but we are not far behind. Our universities may not be in the best 100 in the world but I don’t know, but I am sure some of them will be in the first 10000.

          But I am upset. Independence brought clarity to India’s aspirations. Rapid economic progress with social justice. Literacy was the first priority. So a huge flow of literate children commenced and we were forced to just duplicate the existing system and facilities to accommodate them. The capital input necessary for the facilities, land, building, library, laboratory and what not, the cost was going up. The result was the cost of education spiraled up unimaginably fast making it beyond the dreams of the poor.

        My friend, Dr, A Ramachandran, Vice-chancellor of the Fisheries University, the only one of its kind in India, told me his experience. A Kochi man, his father spent only Rs. 5000 for his education from primary school to doctorate, but he had to shell out Rs.50000 as fee for admission of his child to the pre-primary LKG class, both in Kochi only.  

        But I am optimistic. The waves are slowly taking shape and about to roll. I can visualize. The bard culture, the best educational system ever, beyond written language, but based on sound and pictures and colours, available to everybody, damn cheap when competition and new inventions bringing fresh ideas almost every day from thousands of fertile young brains will be the educational platform. It will revolutionize even the concept of learning in an unimaginable manner and the day is not far off at the present speed. The school, library, laboratory and teacher will be part of you and it will not be even a distant cousin of the distance education, the maximum we can visualize now.

             It will be a world where everyone, even the poorest, gets education connected with their genetic specialties and the world will surely be happier and better than the past generations including ours.

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