Studying the Grass Root

In the first few weeks of post graduate study, this hapless student of social sciences found herself talking an entirely new language. One that included big meaningful terms such as ‘grass roots level’, ‘participative movement’, ‘inclusive growth’, ‘holistic approach’ and the like. In attempting to establish one’s competency as a prospective development professional, the liberal use of such jargon does prove to be quite useful.

Professors pride themselves in delivering well practiced and convoluted lectures on all things sociological, economical and political… in the same breath. You listen wide eyed to field experiences. Worrisome examples of hostile villagers and losing documented data to floods, rain and an angry Pradhan are all given to you till the day of the great exposure visit.

These ‘exposure visits’ involve attacking a particular village which in all likelihood has been surveyed earlier. Such is the cheek of the occasional witty local that he will ask the nature of your carefully prepared questionnaire before you begin. “Do you want my wife, son, daughter, me or all of us to answer this?” he’ll ask. Surprised but undeterred you carry on surveying with the fervor of an obvious newbie. They know this too. “So you are a new student?” asks an equally young looking woman who has no qualms in discussing family planning measures with you.

The search for books with ‘reliable’ data begins and ends quickly. Most offer census data as old at 1991 while others still talk of formidable Russian models. Stranded in the monstrous University library it doesn’t take much to squeak a meek ‘help’.

Development studies is not a course to be taken lightly. Of the twenty odd definitions of development itself, it is prudent to use an international agency’s version. Many class disputes have been solved using such references. “But the state report says the number of children suffering from polio is…” says a flustered Avinash who spent most of the past week procuring the state health report from one of the many vikas and yojana bhavans in the city. “Have you read the State of the children report?” says a calm veteran, double MA, Rajneesh. He has enviable experience in such matters. “Not yet”, sulks Avinash quickly stuffing the derisory health report back into his sling bag.

Your knowledge of ‘social statistics’ brings you instant fame, not only in your class but in the department. It is not unusual to hear of someone in third or first ‘sem’ who knows mortality rates of five different continents. Equally formidable are those with actual experience, such as the promising student in social work who has studied self help groups in no less than seventeen districts.

You may also be assured, that assignments lacking ‘sufficient’ data to support arguments will find themselves serving as paper plates to greasy samosas during one of the tri-hourly tea breaks in the staff room. And while examinations are fearsome entities in any course of study, it is advisable to cleverly add as many grass root level experiences and challenges one can imagine to the simplest of answers for an end semester examination.

The Big Black Indian Umbrella

In The Indian Express -- http://www.indianexpress.com/story/222289.html

It’s right there. In a busy street, somewhere in a field, tucked away under a once officious but now retired looking old timer’s arm, definitely in the sabzi or machli mandi, almost always hanging precariously from the handlebar of a Hero cycle or Bajaj scooter and perhaps, standing all solemn and alone in a corner of your house. You really can’t miss the Big Black Indian Umbrella.

Fit for every season, this large umbrella is as synonymous with India as the black bottomed and sharp spouted aluminum kettle is to our chaiwallahs. As high up as Harkidun in Uttaranchal and as low down as Arundhati’s Ayemenem this big black umbrella is an accessory to reckon with.

Kishan Singh, the lone caretaker at Harkidun’s lone lodge for trekkers had one and it would sit right next to him while he sat wiggling his stinky toes by the fireplace, making us our first cup of tea after five hours of trekking. The shiny steel spoke at the umbrella’s end served as the perfect rivet for the walking stick that it often became when he trudged uphill ahead of us. I imagined it to have no less horsepower than Mary Poppins’, for that man could fly up a hill. The wooden handle too served a sly purpose, that of back scratcher… and how it shined.

In rural India, it is not uncommon to see a child and a particularly enterprising goat sharing the shade of this big black umbrella on sunny afternoons. The prized possession of many a village home, it is shared by the grandparents, parents and children. It is also cheerfully offered to visiting sunscreen slathered city people, who of course, are thought to be nauseatingly sun sensitive.

Your nerve at challenging this obviously tried, tested and popular notion will be met not only with laughs but also with some heavy duty entreating. Not only will the oldest, most toothless and wrinkly old lady at hand grasp you by the arm shoving the umbrella into your now automatically outstretched feminine hand, she will also entrust your now empowered-with-black umbrella delicate welfare to the prudence of the tiniest child. You will then realize that you cannot explore the fields without the companionship of both the umbrella and your knee-high, giggling brown bodyguard.

The Lucknow University however, is where our versatile umbrella finds its true calling. Considering the long walks one has to make to navigate between various departments, the floral pink, blue and yellow umbrellas carried by complexion conscious young ladies make for familiar traffic. But these dainty parasols lack the formidable personality and dual purpose of the big black umbrella. This can and has been testified successfully on campus. No discerning young gentleman risks his wellbeing by brushing past the pernicious iron tentacles that shield the smirking clever young ladies, safe under the ominous black shade of their waterproof protectors.