Written by Dr. Saikat Mukherjee in 2017.
The original article can be found in this link.
“বাবু ইটা চিল্কার পিঠা” (Babu this is chilkar pitha, a pitha made of wheat), said Satish Chandra Mura with his ever so smiling face. Satish and his wife Dulali made us lunch, dinner and breakfast, with the simplest of ingredients and a whole lot of love and happiness. A happiness one might only experience from forest-plucked freshness, from the unadulterated excitement of the school bell dinging to freedom, from an unforeseen break from study due to torrential downpour and listening to stories instead; from hills, from forests, from thundering clouds to blue azures, from the green of Babui grass to the red of the soil.
A village named Amlasole, deep inside the political melting pot of Jongolmohol, in the border of Jharkand and Bengal, had it all and more. One might remember the name of this otherwise unknown, non-google-mapped forest hamlet from the starvation deaths here in 2004-05. Dr. Arup Roy, a retired professor of Physics from Scottish Church College, Calcutta, has been working tirelessly here, in close association with residents to grow awareness, education and self-sustenance among the people in this ever-so dynamic world we live in today. A world which conveniently forgets those who are left behind, those who live in a different period of time, a period devoid of cellular connections, internet, smart phones, gadget, even basic health care and awareness.
Dr. Arup Roy, is probably one of the most methodical and punctual person I have seen in my life. From booking train tickets for me from Kolkata to Ghatsila, to making breakfast, from giving careful instructions and reminders to take insect-repellents, flashlights to making sure my return was fine, Dr. Roy or Sir, as I respectfully called him during my stay, was nothing short of what a young man/woman should strive to be like. Maybe this earnest dedication to duty and responsibility made it possible for this Sexagenarian to be the harbinger of hope and the shoulder to rely on, for the Amlasole people during the last decade. When asking Sir, as to why Amlasole, he says –
“Why indeed, there are hundreds of villages with starvation issues in India, why is this one so special? Well because I happened to land upon this village, this situation, by chance, and since then I have been working.”
The continual effort of this one man spread through increasing number of people over the years who were willing to support him for the cause, when ultimately বেড়াভেঙে (literally ‘breaking boundaries’) primary school was made for the children here with the aim of providing them with basic education to make them self-sufficient and ready for the greater world. The school only teaches Mathematics, English and Bengali, which according to Sir is more than what one needs to grasp in their primary education; two language subjects and mathematics. Indeed everything we learn afterwards are just derivatives of these three basic pillars.
The School, the name has been recently changed to Kendgora Adarsha Sikhayatan.
Morning lesson of Mahabharata for students with Sir and fellow teachers in school
Fun at playschool
The biggest achievement if any according to Sir, is the amount of trust he has been able to achieve from the community. There are two classes that happen in Amlasole. One is the morning class of students and one in the evening, when Sir trains the teachers of the school, who are but local residents with minimal of education. He had observed that although very few of the residents had primary education, that was of no help since most of them are not able to write or read a scripted language. Although they speak a mixture of Bengali, Hindi, Sabari and Mundari, there is no scripted language as such which becomes a deterrent in the outside world. To address this necessity, Sir takes a class of the village elders, and reads them novels such as Rajkahini, by Abanindranath Thakur and stories like Sarat Chandra’s Ramer Sumati. The stories that talk about village life, folk lore and tribes. In this way they both relate to the stories and manage to understand complex words, phrases and their applications. These village elders, take classes of the school and complete a beautiful cycle.
Teacher Training in the evening
The village of Amlasole is located in the foothills of Lakhaishini hill. Rocky, undulated terrains growing wild vegetations of Babui grass, Sal, Gamhar and Mahua trees, contain all the shades of green one can imagine. Although very beautiful, the terrain is not at all suitable for large scale cultivation of rice and crops. It takes huge effort and labor to break the tough soil to make it appropriate for agriculture. The average, annual rainfall although pretty good, the water flows down the slope carrying the top soil with it, exposing the rocky underneath. This coupled with rampant deforestation has resulted in almost no avenue to store the water to be used in a meaningful way.
Lakhaishini hill, fields of Babui grass and rocky terrain
With the help of some of his friends from IRBMS Kolkata it was realized by Sir that this place is ideal for a watershed. Subsequently work was done to dig 30-40 holes along the slope of the hills, when it rains, these holes fill up with water, which then seeps in and inundates the fields in the bottom.
30-40s, Ponds, Rice fields and new hope
Being a student of Virginia Tech, and a part of AID Blacskburg, I was fortunate enough to review this watershed project which made my visit to Amlasole during this summer vacation possible. Village life is not unknown to me, having most of my relatives of both sides in Bankura, however, I had never experienced such blissful seclusion and calm. Night was pitch black, a black that was both soothing and profound. Being urbanized in an American town for 2 years, I am accustomed to glaze over my Iphone and descend down to some kind of a sleep; here however, with no telephonic connection whatsoever, my siesta was brought by the songs of different species of crickets, and flapping wings of bats in my room. It was a ‘peaceful coexistence’ as Sir beautifully puts it. Sir was rather right about this place – ‘You take back more than you give’.
The only natural light being the moon glazing off the near-by water bodies, it was nothing short of being magical. This happened to be a night of চন্দ্রগ্রহণ (Lunar Eclipse). People of the village generally don’t eat during that time, but Sir being the rational mind he is went on to proclaim that he will eat at that precise hour. Sir had explained to the village elders how eclipse happens.
The village of Amlasole comprises of tribal communities, but they have a hierarchy of their own, as Sir noted. The Santhals were the most progressive, followed by Mundas while Sabars were in the bottom of the ladder. The school also provides a common platform for people from all communities to intermix, play and be together. The people here have been forest dwellers since time immemorial. In the past the forest was sufficient in its resources to accommodate the people, however with the advent of modernity we had forest destruction followed by creation of fences around the forests to make national parks. Naturally the people who used to solely depend on forests got left behind, and their skill-sets (such as weaving, hunting) became outdated for the modern world.
The sincerity of the students was something that humbled me. Whenever I entered any class, all the students stood up and welcomed me. We tend to forget that education as we know of it is a privilege, unfortunately. For these students, coming to the class everyday, learning new things and playing with fellow classmates is a very important aspect of life. More valuable than the most expensive of play-things. That simple slate-pencil is more precious than state of the art gadgets.
Some pictures of the school
When I started writing this, it was in the middle of Independence Week for the country. One could see the country filled with flags, anthems and long whatsapp forwards of celebrating independence. I couldn’t help but wonder if this definition of independence was inclusive of these people of Amlasole, I wondered what they were doing. For independence to them lies in the Midday meal of the school, which they so eagerly look forward to. Rice, lentils, and vegetables, with the occasional serving of fish or meat, which frees those starving stomachs of hunger. I was fortunate to have the midday meal for my lunch. Very few meals that I have had in my life has given me this amount of contentment and fulfillment.
Midday meal and fun’
The school ends to the school bell dinging to freedom, and these little boxes of happiness return to their homes, many to their hostel. This hostel, also built by Sir and his friends, houses children whose parents are too poor to afford their expenses. It has a computer room, classes filled with science props, books and maps of the world. Sir has written many books for children to make pronunciation of difficult words easy, he has his own unique method to make pronunciation simple phonetically. The books have words, their English and Bengali name, but also their local Sabari name for them to relate to.
“মেঘের কোলে রোদ এসেছে, বাদল গেছে টুটি ;
আজ আমাদের ছুটি ও ভাই, আজ আমাদের ছুটি”
After a torrential downpour that day, as the school ended, this couplet from a Tagore song seemed to aptly describe the situation.
Being a late riser myself, I had to wake up at 5 a.m, because that’s the time for the children to play some football with Birsa Mura, another local resident. The morning was fresh, and the football field even more so. Surrounded by hills on all sides, the field diffused happiness, echoing laughter of the little one’s running through it. The most beautiful thing about the morning game was that it was gender neutral. The most ferocious center back happened to be a young girl. It was difficult to resist playing myself, so I joined in and managed to score a goal for my team.
As I finish this write up sitting on a far-away land, made of king size mattresses in place of tal patar madur, smell of morning starbucks contrary to incense sticks, and all the little comforts which make fulfill the american dream, I find it hard to realize that unadulterated happiness, maybe this happiness is buried deep down inside credit card debts and insurance claims, who knows. For I know happiness can be found just by simply looking at that red Amlasole soil, that green of Babui grass, Dulali’s cooking, in the petrichor smell of the first monsoon. Maybe this is the feeling weary desert bedouins had, unearthing an oasis. One can only hope this oasis doesn’t get turned into an amusement park.
About the author
The author completed his PhD in Mechanical Engineering from Virginia Tech, USA in 2020. He finished his Bachelors in Mechanical Engineering from Jadavpur University in 2015. He have been a student volunteer at Association for India’s Development (Blacksburg Chapter) for the past 2 years.
