Making room for a different class

It is 4:30 pm. The mismatched ruffles on Rishika Baraf's frock seem to wilt under the rough heat of Wada, but the same cannot be said for her enthusiasm. Armed with a notebook and pencil, Rishika listens to the story of freedom fighter Birsa Munda, eyes darting between her teacher and the rest of the class. The rest of the class is not occupied with the tribal leader's valour, but that's only because some are learning Ganit (Mathematics) while some are busy with Arogya (Hygine). If this strikes you as an unusual classroom, there's more.
 
150 kms from Mumbai, Baraf Para is a tribal village (in the Wada taluk of Thane, Maharashtra) inhabited by fifty farming families, all of whom share surnames, and a common affliction—limited access to education. Their children, however, attend a daily evening class conducted by a community representative trained by voluntary organization Friends of Tribal Society (FTS), in a public spot in the village. This evening, the village temple doubled  as their classroom.
 
"The concept is that of an 'Ekal Vidyalaya', or a one-teacher school," explains philanthropist Nayantara Jain, who has been associated with the NGO since 1998 and currently serves as the Secretary of FTS's Mumbai Chapter. Over thirty years of it's duration, FTS, which identifies itself as a "tribal literacy movement" has branched out in most states of India, their claim to action revolving around "training a community person in the basics of Language, Science, Mathematics, Hygine and Value Education so the teacher can introduce her peers to elementary knowledge" that is either their only source of literacy, or supplements their school learning.

With 52,000 schools all over India, FTS's focus remains tethered to the ground values of self-awareness and kinship with the community and the nation. Before the little band of Barafs, aged 6-10, settled down with History and Mathematics books, they could be heard chanting "Hum Bharat Mata ke asoon pochenge" with a sincerity that is surprising in such dispossessed group of children. Jain explains the need for motivational fodder in a community where a disease-free, sustainable existence comes before a sophisticated curriculum. "The idea is for them to grow up to be independent, to know life-building skills and rights, and device a way of sustaining their agriculture or any other chosen livelihood. We have refrained on purpose from super-imposing an urban structure on their original ecosystem."

Sure enough, counting up numbers looks nothing like it does in an urban classroom here, as the kids try their hands at subtraction, quite literally, by removing three wild fruit-seeds from a line of five spread out on the floor in front of them. The village senior in charge of the temple premises confirms that a reference from nature, their most trusted environment, helps the kids connect better with new intellectual concepts. Their teacher, 20-year-old Swapna Baraf, simply appears glad that such small amusements can be used to keep her class engaged for three hours.

"I have been teaching for four years , and like learning new things along with the class," says the SYBA student who wants to complete her degree so she can become "a better teacher". It appears that Swapna isn't the first one to nurture dreams of an enabled tomorrow. Just as the class dissolves and the Language, Math and History armies scatter amongst each other, mentor and Acharya (headmaster) of the school, Ravindra Thapad, affirms his own story. Thapad, it would seem, went from being a student of the class to making room for the next throng of learners who are as enchanted by a song-and-dance-filled lessons as they are undaunted by a sun-scorched classroom.
One can't help but hope that the lessons are worth it.