Sometimes even the background of a picture speaks a thousandwords. In one of my rapid-fire photography sessions, my lens captured a strangescene in the background. A few blackboards painted on the sides of the over-groundYamuna Bank metro station. When I zoomed in on the blackboards while editingthe photo on my computer, I could see English grammar lessons, arithmeticformulae and other scribbling on them.
Since I had clicked the picture in the dead of the night,obviously there was no chance I could have caught students and teachers on thecamera. But which school was this? And who were the students? Places like thesenormally house the underbelly but here was hope being nurtured in this cornerhidden beneath a metro station.
Curiosity stirred, I raced against time the next morning tomatch my long-forgotten school schedule and make it to the place sharp atseven. There was no one. Not even the sun. Morning dew had washed off the lastday’s lessons. Metros were zipping over the open-air school I longed to see.Eight o’clock and still nothing. It wasn’t even Sunday. What school schedulewas this?
Around nine, I saw a lone kid, quietly walking in and takingthe foremost seat in a nonexistent class. I could talk but chose my lens to dothe talking instead. The boy took out his slate and a few tattered books andarranged them, perhaps in order of the subjects to be taken up for studies in aclass which was still not there.
In the next 10 minutes, the class came as if out of a magicwand. A plain-looking man in his forties had begun teaching them in aprofessional manner. I had chosen a position which allowed me a cover intendingnot to shock them and disrupt the class. Now I had the chance background of anearlier picture developed into a full-blown picture taking shape in my camera.At eleven, the teacher finished his last class and began to leave when Iaccosted him.
The Good Samaritan turned out to be Rajesh Kumar Sharma, aresident of Shakarpur in east Delhi who owns a grocery store at nearby LaxmiNagar. Taking a bus daily from his residence to the shop, he used to seechildren living in a nearby slum loitering around while their parents labouredin construction sites in the area. On occasions, he tried persuading thesepeople to send their children to school. They did not. That is when Sharmafirst thought of introducing them to the benefits of schooling ” by starting amakeshift pre-school here.
This year, he has sent 70 children to a nearby municipalcorporation school after they were trained here. Sharma still has an enrollmentof 62 kids who are charged nothing. He breaks his journey and teaches themEnglish, mathematics and science for two hours daily. It has now been two yearsnow since he took up the cause of these children. Sharma stays away fromdonations as he feels that he will otherwise lose the independence of teachingthe kids his own way. Lakshmi Chandar, a private tutor in the area, assists himvoluntarily. And when I tell Sharma thatthis land belongs to the government and he can be labelled an encroacher, hesmiles wryly and says: “We all belong to the government, and so do these kids.”
in association with Governance Now
