retire, do not tire

Retire, but do not tire

Punjab rural education is in doldrums.
No teacher is ready to work in schools.
These are some of the phrases that people concerned for education often say.

Whereas on the other hand, the government teachers have their own notions, which can be neither categorized as wrong and nor as being right. They argue - How can we teach? Thousands of posts of teachers lie vacant in rural pockets. Many a times there are just two teachers from more than 200 students. How can we do justification with these children?

While some schools are under-staffed others are over-staffed. There is no rational distribution. Moreover, teaches are being deployed on no-academic work – such as conducting surveys for electoral list.

Both aforesaid ideas are true to every core. But it's not only Punjab wherein teachers are being asked to do non-academic work. Neither it is the only state to ace shortage of staff. But it does have the dubious distinction of having poor results – especially in primary education.

One might have come across these grievances and redressals many a times. We will no more dwell on it. And instead will follow another path. A few days ago, one of my friend's father retired from his job. After serving 35 years in a government institute, it had become a ritual for him to reach office by 9 am and be back home by 5:30 pm.

But post retirement, he started finding it difficult to kill time. Seeking a company, he daily visited someone, had cups of tea over talks and returned home in the evening. During one such visits he met village sarpanch who told him about the pathetic result of village's school. Reason – 168 students, up to eighth standard, had just two teachers. Sarpanch suggested him to help out with school affairs and teach students. Already waiting for an opportunity, the gentleman was eager to teach students.

He is not the only example. There are many like him in villages, who after getting retired, pass their time talking worthless things or interfering in household matters. This would not only solve problem at the school level but will go long way in developing future of rural students – who have got immense potential, but little resources.

One can get retired from post, but not from work. More such volunteers are needed in the field of education who can change the very fabric of academics.

Unemployed B Ed Teachers – Try this Gandhigiri..

Repeated protest marches and agitations by Unemployed B Ed Teachers had done little to wake up government. On the contrary, government has started taking these protestors as granted and considers these dharns as a routine matter.

These unemployed youth can resort to better means of protest. They can started teaching at primary school voluntarily thereby insulting government for not giving them a patient hearing. These agitating youth usually employ to begging, cleaning cars and roads to insult government. But don't you think teaching government school child is a better option and a constructive protest.


Inder preet singh

नींद न देखे टूटी खाट

When pebbles became most luxurious bed…..IT was the time when three hours journey took double the time. It was the time when all passengers, stuffed in a goods train, bumped into each other at every jolt. It was a never ending nighmarish journey. It was the year Indira Gandhi got killed and a wave of brutal killings started. Having already faced brunt of 1947 riots, our clan settled in Kanpur, was hesistant to move to Punjab. The condition grew worser each day and msot of our neighbors have already made a bee-line to Punjab. My family was not ready to leave flourishing business and move to Punjab. “Otthe jaa ke ki khavanga? Ki karanga” were the only questions that reverbated in everyone’s mind. However, my Tayaji, whose spirit 1947 riots failed to diminish, was hopeful. He motviated everyone to move to Punjab. He had re-constructed his entire home after 1947, brick-by-brick, but still had the courage to start everything fresh. He suggested that families should not flock together and instead go in small groups. He also ordered to take just valuables and leave everything behind, to be collected later. (But perhaps that later never came).After each and everyone had left for Dhuri (our ancestral place), my two cousins and I boarded Ranchi Express to come towards Punjab. But the situation in Punjab grew tense and a curfew was imposed. Not even a single vehicle, may it be bus or train, was allowed entry into curfewed-Punjab. The Ranchi Express, we were travelling in, left us at Delhi. In order to move ahead, we boarded a goods train from Delhi to Ambala. The usual journey that takes three hours took more than double the time. In the absence of vaccum between two boggies in goods train, we suffered jolts greatly. At the fag end of journey each nerve of body tingled with pain. It seemed all of us were huddled together like cattle being taken to slaughter.When we reached Ambala it was teeming with hundreds of others like us. All the eatables at station have got finished and there was not even potable drinking water. Sans food, sans water, many of us started hunting for place to at least sit.It was then I noticed that people lay wherever they could find space. While few were lying near public urinals, others found refuge near piles of garbage. While looking for some space, I recahed at the dead end of railway track. It was here I found place to rest. And on those ‘cushioned’ stones I lay after 20 hours of tiring jounrey. Ands all I could dream of was lying safely under starlit sky.eom

कैसे भुलाऊँ अंकल मैं आपको

Anonymous

THESE words hold unfathomable meaning. It's very true that you never know who can be your savior. In the days of terrorism, my savior turned out to be a handicapped person, who not only stood beside me in biting cold for two hours, but also walked 5 kms with me.

In 1990s, when the terrorism was at its peak, I had boarded the last train from Ludhiana to Dhuri. A 15-years-old boy, I was awfully tired. Yielding to the sleep, I stole a nap at the last station of Dhuri, Himmatana. As the train chugged towards Sangrur, I was in deep sleep.

As I descended on the Sangrur platform, I noticed only 10 to 12 people were my platform companions. A chill ran down my spine when I realized I was alone in alien land with terrorism at peak and no one to rely on. In those dreaded days of terrorism, when one could not believe even one's own shadow, that strange "uncle" came as my savior.

I decided to try my luck boarding any truck going from Sangrur to Dhuri. On stepping outside the railway station, I saw an old sardarji uncle standing by. I narrated him the whole story and asked for way towards Sangrur bypass road, from where I can get on some vehicle bound for Dhuri. He cleared that I wont get any help so late at night, but if fortunate, can hop on a petrol tanker and reach Dhuri.
We reached the octroi post in that biting cold and stood for two hours. My legs started aching badly and it seemed that cold crawled under my flesh. But that uncle ji stood battling against the chilly winter.
When all the hopes of boarding a vehicle for Dhuri faded away, uncle ji suggested that we should go back to his home. "You can stay at my place tonight and board train to Dhuri tomorrow morning," he suggested. Caught up in a piquant situation, I had no option but to follow his advice.

We started walking away from the octroi. On the way to his home, we had dinner at a small dhaba (the only one to be open even after 10 pm). I could not even call my parents at Dhuri, as we had just one telephone in the entire lane and to place a call, one had to first book the call.

Anyhow, we walked for 3 kms long distance and by the time we reached his place, I was dead tired. When we entered his home, he sat down on the bed, rolled up his pant to knees and unlatched the lock of his artificial limb! I was surprised to find that this aged person stood by me in the most difficult times! Being a handicapped he walked with me! And thence I remembered that God comes in the form of human to help.


EOM