Chattisgarh Education Programs

Chattisgarh: Living On Hope 
By Chandrika Rathore

Ever since I started work at Pratham, which was almost six months ago, I’ve been particularly keen to visit its education programs in Chhattisgarh – the small state in Central India that was born out of Madhya Pradesh. Its people, after all, have long had to endure the struggle between the government and the Naxals and I was eager to see how these programs would run amidst such menace.

Prior to my visit, the only ideas I had about the socio political affairs of the state were from what I had read and heard. Based on that limited information, I had formed strong biases (best left undeclared) that came out in the endless debates I had with friends and acquaintances.

Hence I looked forward to a visit hoping to better understand the situation in the state. In retrospect, I think I had been little naive to believe that this short visit would all so simply wipe away my doubts and bring me back with a crystal clear viewpoint.

What I did come back with, however, was a rather pleasant perspective, even if not with answers to all my questions; and the realization that this was enough for the time being. It would be wrong, maybe even unfair to believe in the possibility of understanding a situation of this nature in such little time, with such little interaction with the people there. It would be an insult to the atrocities the common man has faced in Chattisgarh and most of all, it was impossible.

During my four-day visit, I had several questions and fortunately, I had for company, a colleague from Mumbai who was revisiting with me, Swamiji - the Unicef program head and Papuji who tirelessly drove us around, through unfriendly terrains. They were knowledgeable about the affairs of their state. I wanted to know their views for they would also, in some way or the other, reflect the views of people they knew: who did the people of Chhattisgarh sympathize with? But as is the case with most things, nothing was black and white. Even so, while Swamiji came forward in his support for the government, Papuji was quick to establish that he disagreed.

Along the journey, which was always at an average of three to four hours, wherever we went, I noticed that Chhattisgarh had a large number of schools. On the first day while driving from the district headquarter of Jagdalpur to Bastar, we saw a huge campus coming up – it boasted the kind of infrastructure you get to see in big cities. It was an ‘education hub’ the government was setting up. That clubbed with the positive comments from my companions on the collector and other government officials was indicative of the government’s resolve to improve the quality of education in the state.

Our first stop was at a school in Bastar district. Unlike schools I’ve visited in other states, here, I found the children to be weary of strangers. They did not welcome our presence and were hesitant in engaging with us. “Some of them have been exposed to violence at this age;” explained Swamiji, on noticing the apparent concern on my face. However, as soon as the teachers started conversing with them, the gloom in the classroom turned into cheer.

The two ashramshals (boarding school) that we visited next told the same story. The blank expression on the children’s faces in the initial moments of our entry was a norm I wasn’t accustomed to. We had spent a full day and I had noticed a fairly large number of children whose first reaction was worrisome.

And so, as the sun set on Baster that night I could feel the restlessness inside me rising.  I couldn’t help myself despite the inkling that the rationale in my feelings was frail. However, this inkling reinstated by my colleague compelled me to broaden my observation, lest I miss the bigger picture.

The next day in Dantewada – a troubled zone that lies quite close to Naxal inhabited areas – I understood the challenges faced by teachers in Chhattisgarh. Most of them have to travel very long distances to get to work and often through deserted places, which are hotbeds for Naxal activities. The Naxals often kidnap people who they suspect might be in touch with the army and the police. Though in case of incorrect suspicions they let go of the person, needless to say that the trauma stays.  In such a situation, the determination of the teachers is commendable.

Whichever school I visited, I found the teachers to be particularly driven. The children felt safe in their presence. I noticed more closely that day how beautifully they succeeded in making the children comfortable despite our presence.

One of the teachers explained how schools in the interiors of Chattisgarh are neither visited often by outsiders nor have children coming from secure backgrounds, hence the apprehension in interacting with strangers.

Although nothing had changed, I retired that night much calmer, with a newfound respect for the teachers and volunteers who work there. This admiration only increased the next day, when Swamiji organized a visit to Reddy in Bijapur. He felt that it was essential to see how the classes were being run in extremely sensitive areas such as Bijapur.

After crossing five CRPF checkpoints, we finally reached Reddy, where men in uniform enquired about the purpose of our visit. On hearing Swamiji’s explanation, one of them responded with a smile, “Acha lagta hai ki aap log yahan tak aate hain, aapka kaam dekhne ke liye. Warna yahan toh koi nahi aata hai” Reddy was unlike any village we’d been to before: a semi warzone, it had bunkers, checkpoints and edgy villagers sitting along the road.

We were all a little tense and I wondered about the teachers who took this journey every single day and the children who grew up in this environment.

As we entered the school which was all of two big rooms – the children stood up to greet us, once again, with a serious face and a soft voice but that did not make me anxious anymore.

Once the teachers helped break the ice, we engaged them in few math problems and reading exercises which they seemed to enjoy. When I asked the teachers how they managed to run classes in such a tense environment, they explained that no one has a problem with education programs.  “padhai ke kaam se kisiko koi problem nahi hai, bas aate jaate time thoda daar toh lagta hi hai.” 

We had to leave Reddy soon as the road leading out would shut post six but not before I’d taken a few pictures of the kids, who by now had opened up to us and turned into a snap-happy lot. 

This was the end of day three and our visits of the schools. On our way back Swamiji narrated a heart wrenching story about how he lost a loved one to the wrath of Chattisgarh, with a poise that made me feel weak; and as though he was continuing the same story he went on to ask us what we thought of the schools and classes we’d visited in the past three days. It took me a while before I could answer.  

It was in this moment that I realized what I found great about the people in Chhattisgarh; it was the importance they gave to education, despite the trouble they are engulfed by. The calm and hope that echoed in their voices was a validation of their determination.

Even in an environment of such strong mutual distrust and suspicion, when it came down to education, everyone – from the government and the army to the locals and the Naxals – was on the same page and encouraging of it; and if this continued one can only hope that maybe it is education that eventually gives peace a chance in Chattisgarh, both ideally and realistically.