Emotionally Speaking

I had written an account of our M.A. class  Hyderabad field trip in mid- March 2005. I discovered it in the cellar!

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My class, M.A. fourth semester, centre for political studies (CPS), JNU was in the villages of Rangareddy and Nalgonda districts in Andhara Pradesh from march 16 to march 22 on account of a field-trip mandatory for the research methodology course. From the train journey to the villages it offered us tremendous glimpses into various aspects of human life which will be etched deep in the memory of my class and accompanying teachers.

To begin with, on the onwards train journey, my class, high on civic sense, made their own polythene dustbins in their respective compartments to compensate for the absence of a dustbin in the bogie. Unfortunately as we saw later all of it was jettisoned from the moving train by the child-sweepers and railway-sweeper as well. Even the pantry had a similar way of disposing waste. We regretted the sorry state of affairs!

When we alighted at the Secundarabad station we were surprised by its cleanliness. A beaming Rebecca, who hails from Kottayam, Kerela had this to say: “the south is always clean”. We knew she was not exaggerating.

The first and the last day of the trip we stayed at the St. Ann’s Generalate, Secundarabad. Managed by nuns it gave us glimpses of a humane life. We never used locks in the rooms. Samuel wanted to give a tip to the helper boy but the latter nixed it: “nakko, nakko”. Samuel knew this was the safest place for his laptops, palmtops and other gadgets unlike the train that had given him a sleepless night! Ziko forgot his shoes here on the first day only to find it later.

From secundarabad we dispersed in eight groups to eight villages in Nalgonda and Rangareddy districts. Each group interviewed 24 different families from different strata in the village. We collected data on children’s participation in school and work and also on the efforts made by the MV foundation – the NGO spearheaded by Prof. Shanta Sinha, the Ramon Magsasay awardee.

The village turned out to be an eye-opener for most of us. Their innocence and amiability moved myself, in particular. We were welcomed everywhere and served tea or buffalo-milk. People gave us their time unhesitatingly while children found us amusing. For the first time I saw that it was possible to be poor and happy simultaneously. Some groups including my group were served the same mid-day meal that children in the primary school were served. We enjoyed it and found it tasty. Deepti and Pemu sponsored ice creams for school children and ignored Jamal sir’s advice of not having it themselves. We saw a street play in the village on the theme of child-rights performed by local villagers, mostly children, so brilliantly executed that even we, for whom Telugu = Greek, understood all of it.

The village threw many situations to test our objectivity and value-neutrality. When at the Upsarpancha’s home, one SC woman wanted her family to be a part of the survey. Deepa and myself could not say no knowing very well that it will be unofficial. Jubilee, Rebecca and others in another village found a severely ailing child not being given medical care on account of poverty. Needless to say they had a hard time reconciling with it.

Back from the villages, when at lakeside Hyderabad, a pickpocket performed and Malini’s purse went missing. A saddened Malini was on cloud nine later when the pickpocket telephoned to convey that he is taking the 1500 rupees and returning the rest of the purse – I-cards, credit cards and other documents. I concluded that honesty is vanishing but only in installments!

In the return journey a pantry waiter would suggest people to eat at the next train-stoppage where the “food is good and tasty”. Early morning when I went to buy veg-cutlet at the pantry-counter he blinked an eye at me. I touched the cutlets and discovered (as hinted) that they were stale. I told the pantry head on the counter that I was not buying them. The Good Samaritan was suggesting instead “bread omelette, bread omelette”. Deepa later scolded me mildly for not buying the bread-omelette.

All of us were regretting the child labour galore on the train. My classmates had a hard time deciding not to give them money and thus do them a latent favour of discouraging them. In the return journey, one girl child aged some 3 years began performing tricks through an iron-ring accompanied by another girl-child aged some 10 years. It created one of the most poignant images I had ever seen. I saw hope for reward in the child’s eyes and lament in my classmate’s eyes. Pemu gave her a biscuit packet and Ziko gave a two-rupee coin. “Don’t encourage them” erupted a visibly moved Sonali. Those two children shook us more than the train ever did.

All of us are looking forward to the workshop on the field trip, which we are sure will throw some interesting findings. I just think this was the moral of the trip: if you want to see India board a train; if you want to live India go to a village.

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Feel Nostalgia? Go ahead and leave a comment.

VIKAS