A tiptoed comeback...

Daughter is back in Calcutta for her college after spending the last 6 years of school at Boarding in Pune and Bangalore. Major cultural change for her – from the protected environment of Krishnamurty Foundation (KFI) Schools to a basic (‘pati’ – as we would say in Bengali) Government College – though she seems to be having a ball with all her new found independence. Travelling on packed Metro-trains and auto-rickshaws or ‘bussing’ it across the city for “outdoors” – are thrills she is just beginning to discover and the charm hasn’t worn off yet. Then having “lemon tea” in plastic cups (that have replaced the earthen “bhaars” of our times) and ghugni by the road side are another level of education.

There are different dynamics playing at home between the mother and daughter – sharply contrasted with my recollections of the father-son tensions of my late adolescence and early youth. That both are undergoing hormonal changes of their respective ages don't help matters surely.

I am going through my umpteenth bout of professional ‘burn-out’ and the idea of retirement teases as seductively as ever. But, a cursory look at the Bank Statements and Credit Card Bills is enough to shatter any idle reverie – and one shudders at the thought of the unpaid Home Loan EMI like hearing the sound of crash on Dalal Street.  Getting out of Calcutta remains my biggest challenge. The city sends me into throes of despair. All the Prozac in the world can’t cure me of the depression that Calcutta brings over me.

So, the best I could do for the time being was take another one of our standard therapeutic break in the Nilgiris, as we have been doing for years - whenever the blues become unbearable. This was a trip of sinful laziness – with the spouse’ leg impaired by a medical condition (synovitis) and my sagging spirits badly needing to be propped up by some real stuff (Beefeater Gin in the afternoons and Glenlivet in the evenings – to be precise). Had a lifetime’s quota of fresh cream – with an assortment of pies and pastries – as fitting finale to loads of red meet (no rubbery chicken or the tasteless scavenger Bassa for me, please). Coonoor Avocados and Acres Wild Cheeses (from Mansoor Khan’s farm)  were at the healthier end of the food-chain. To hell with Cholesterol and Diabetes !!

Read this review of ShovonChowdhury’s maiden novel  The Competent Authority. Promises to be a good read. Knew Shovon briefly – when he was in advertising (Bates-Clarion, Delhi). Good to know he has made this successful transition to writing. Looking forward to the book.

Making history (the ICSE way)

Jaya finished her Class 10 (ICSE) exams last month.

History is one of the subjects she disliked and certainly wasn't good at. So, she was understandably relieved at the end of the paper. She called me - palpably excited - over the phone to say "can you belive it - I'm done with history?" - I teased her, "others finish history, you sound as if you have made history".

Jokes apart, it was a bumpy ride for her. Though she enjoyed every bit her stay in Sahyadri (and is fiercely proud of her school) – academics were an uphill task for her. It wasn’t an easy call for us – there were obvious trade-offs between keeping her at home close to us and putting her in a free and nurturing environment like Sahyadri. Though she would have definitely benefitted from parental guidance, we were equally certain that the competitive pressures of a city school would have crushed her spirit.

No denying we had our moments of doubt and anxiety. But, every time we met the Principal and the teachers – we came back with the realization that, the problem lay more with us than the child. I remember – we once went to meet the young principal concerned about J’s progress (or, rather, the lack of it ) in class. We were quite flummoxed – when he asked us, if we were sure that we weren’t trying to impose our own expectations on our daughter. “Don’t you think – it’s been a great blessing that she has spent 5 very happy years of her life in this wonderful surrounding ?” – he retorted rhetorically. "Don’t tell her what she should do – just help her understand what she isn’t good at. The rest she will figure out for herself." Sound advice – we thought, as we trudged back to the school guest-house.

Now the hunt for a new school has begun – since at Sahyadri they don’t yet have a ‘Plus 2’ (Class XI and XII) section. Our impending move to Calcutta makes the situation a little more complex. Perhaps, having schooled in that city we are a bit biased. We know Jaya isn’t cut out for the top rung old favourites which are high on academics. Other than those, there are the few mass-production education factories (like my old alma-mater South Point and now also DPS) but she’ll be mince-meat in no time there. And, we are quite cynical about the new breed of the so called “international” schools – which promise to make Katrina Kaif of your daughter (through their ‘acting classes’). We have heard some ‘horror stories’ about these places. So the choice is really limited. As Jaya wants to pursue music - someone suggested Shantiniketan. But, without even visiting the place again, we know it’s a non-option. What Jaya needs is a school – that will give her the space to grow and let her progress at her own pace. Sadly, we don’t know of any such place in Calcutta.

Our first port of call was The Valley School in Bangalore – also run by the Krishnamurti Foundation. The parent teacher meeting that, preceded the interviews was itself an education for us. The Director of the school exhorted the parents – “don’t judge us by what we have achieved but by what we are attempting” and then decide if you wish to be part of this adventure. "The real challenge in this journey is not for the child – whose joyfulness we guarantee – but for the educators and the parents." This was followed by a short video of Jiddu Krishnamurti talking on education – which posed some more tough questions for us.

At the end of it – both Jaya and we were convinced that, if she has to go to a boarding it can only be at a KFI (Krishnamurti Foundation) School. One of the senior teachers on the panel quickly sized up Jaya and reading her mind - gently suggested that we shouldn't even waste our time checking out some other schools down south (run on similar lines)that we were planning to visit. That doesn’t mean Jaya will get admission automatically. Being essentially a day school, they have very few vacancies for boarders and the applicants are many. But, I guess the wait and the suspense are also part of the adventure - not just for us but also for Jaya.

We are keeping our fingers crossed !! Either way - it'll be the beginning of a new journey.

Related Blogposts: Masti Ka Pathshala and Back to School

Back to School

Going to Jaya’s school in the monsoons is always such a treat.

Braving the rains on the Lonavala Ghats that puts you just so much on the edge speeding through the Mumbai-Pune Expressway, negotiating the truck-traffic and pot-holes of the Talegaon-Chakan section ( Pune’s new Industrial District ), as one turns off the Nashik highway at Rajgurunagar (Khed ) unending miles of green-hills greet us. Till just a couple of months ago, when we had gone to drop her off at the beginning of the term, they had shades of brown and golden yellow - still pretty like a dusky young bride wrapped in her Maharshtrian saree. But, now suddenly she was resplendent in green – the young wife in full bloom on the cusp of motherhood.

Finishing our mandatory stop for Poha or Chewda just before leaving the highway, we climb in soft pedal up the ribbon-like road towards Bhimashankar. As the town recedes, the population thins out and tiny hamlets begin to appear along the way, spaced afar from each other. It is hard to believe that so close to Mumbai – there can be a place of such unspoilt beauty, still untouched by the city marauders.

We reach the Chas-Khaman Dam which holds back the Bhima River from overflowing into the plains of Pune and get a first glimpse of the lake now full to its brim looking ready to spill over on the paramours lap. At this point one first sees the dots of the school dormitories up there, as if spying on the play at the banks of the lake – like the naughty teenagers who live in them - from a stealthy distance.

Going past the Shambhu Hill – which, as the name indicates, has Shiva temple atop nestled in the forest, we get to the fork from where the road to the school branches off, a short climb up the Tiwai Hill to the table-top plateau where the school is spread over 70 acres. Even in the last 2 years that we have been going there, the young forest – of teak and Jamul planted by the school - has thickened showing its first signs of moving from adolescence to maturity, though still someway from attaining adulthood. But, still it conjures up the feeling of driving through a light jungle.

Up there at the school, the rain-drenched trees and the slushy foot-ball and volley ball fields – with the boys emerging from them like little devils after a mud-bath – make another kind of a sight altogether. Though there are no flowers in this season and the fruits too are not in sight – the lush green all around gives it a certain pristine character.

Though the afternoons tend to get a little warm when it’s not raining, the mornings and evenings are invariably pleasant with a cool breeze coming up from the lakes wafting through the trees. And, an occasional light drizzle gently soaking the skin.

The sparsely appointed (basic yet comfortable) rooms in the guest-house, the home-style and near rustic food of the school canteen and the adds to the feeling of a holiday in the country side.

At sunset – one can walk across to the neighbouring Navalvirayatan , a meditation and retreat center, set up by a Jain foundation, and go till the right edge of the cliff to get an unhindered view of the Bhimashankar Lake – silent, calm and the ultimate picture of serenity - , while watching the sun set over the Lonavala hills afar. And, it’s then one begins to understand a little bit of what Krishnamurti meant by…. To live is to be related (and) there is no right relationship to anything when there is not the right feeling for beauty and a response to nature…


And then, suddenly the reverie snaps - as one hears that in just a couple of years the new Pune International Airport would come up in Rajgurunagar – when the school will be right on the flight path of the jets that would tear thunderously through the skies on their landings and take-offs. Land-sharks have already moved in grabbing the hill-sides smelling the opportunity of making a quick buck. And very soon, one won’t hear the tweeter of the birds and the rustle of the leaves any more. The children – looking up into the skies will count air planes rather than see shapes in the clouds or study the constellations at night. The sylvan landscape will make way for a concretized sky-line and the neighbourhood would be swallowed up by the swelling city of Pune as one of its newest suburb. The Tiwai Hills will be transformed for good. But one hopes that, Sahyadri will still remain a little island of tranquility where children can learn about the totality and the wholeness of life, just as Rishi Valley continues to be even after 75 years despite the onslaught of the environment around it.

Related Blog Post: "Masti-ka-Pathshala" (to read click here)