Today I learned.
Today I learned that smiles
Are just another way to communicate.
That even if a word falls out of place
And the meanings come out
Garbled and inaccurate,
The idea travels.
That bright doesn’t mean an English education
Or a spot in a top school.
That crayons aren’t necessarily sprung
From the depthless wells of parental generosity.
That a story with a fisherman
And a conch shell
And a mermaid
Can bridge the gap between eager child
And willing adult.
That although we think
We’ve learned it all,
Seen the world in all its splendour,
And pathos,
And become so world-weary,
There’s still something to learn
From sitting down to read a book,
Colour a picture
With a child who wants
So desperately to learn.
One volunteering session at the ILP-organized community library at Yeshwanthpur, and I am inspired. Inspired by the fact that there are places like the library, innocuous among the slums of Yeshwanthpur, where children of all ages can come and express themselves in any way they want. Inspired by the fact that there are children like Vignesh, Shashi, Ashwini and Fathima who come from those same slums but can communicate with me in, not perfect, but desperately hopeful English.
I dropped in at the library with my friend who had already started and raved about the place and the kids. What greeted me after a tramp through mud and speculative glances from the neighbours was a group of beaming children in a very small room. Every one seemed to know Rosh-my friend-but seemed to want to ensure that the new addition wouldn’t be left out. As they tried courageously to wrap their poor tongues around my name-which is a tad more difficult that your average 8th standard Spelling Bee contender-I was effortlessly pulled in, in more ways than one.
The kids from the area come mostly from Public Schools, we hear. The library is a space for them to do their homework, colour-in pictures, read a book or simply improve their English. I liked the fact that the work was relatively un-structured, which means that the usual reservations kids have about going to “classes” would not be present. The books in the library are colour-coded according to difficulty of language and there are “activity sheets” which are graded according to class.
It’s not as organized as it should be and that’s something we can do. The librarian-Vijaylakshmi-is harried but happy with her one folder holding definitely close to a million Activity sheets.
The kids however are a treasure. Mostly very bright, they come up to you and ask you questions with shining eyes, they sit by you and listen as you help them read, stumbling over words but trying hard. Most of the kids I interacted with were relatively well spoken in English-but even for someone with dismal Kannada skills like me, communication wasn’t a problem. There’s always your hands, the occasional Hindi word and of course, pictures.
I loved the place. And I plan to make sure I go at least once a week to learn.
Tharindri R
