Shantiniketan, revisited

Ira Pande

THERE is so much information on the pandemic and its implications for our economy and health, that there is little point in adding my two bits. I want to look at a different area of concern and one that should be equally important to us: education and the challenges that we are likely to face in a post-Covid world.

Fortunately, academics and institutions have provided vital support through e-learning apps to our urban students. While nothing can ever replace the physical presence of teachers and the warmth of campus friends, yet to ensure that learning happens by other means has meant that an entire academic year will not be lost. I realise that it has been hard on parents and teachers to support this novel form of learning, but since parents will go to any length to keep learning going, the experiment has been very successful. There are also many open classes being offered free of cost to those who wish to enhance the quality of their minds — people of my generation, for instance — by renowned universities and institutions. I have learnt so much from some brilliant podcasts and Zoom sessions that I have attended lately.

The subject of education has occupied a lot of my writing recently as I have just finished translating one of the most enchanting books my mother (the late Hindi writer Shivani) wrote, recalling her years in Shantiniketan, titled Amader Shantiniketan. The title is a tribute to an institution, or rather an ashram, that Tagore founded in rural Bengal in the early years of the last century. My mother and two of her siblings were sent by their scholar grandfather (one of the founders of BHU) to faraway Shantiniketan from Almora. In those days, when there was no motor road from Almora to Kathgodam (the nearest railhead), they undertook an epic journey by foot, rail and bus to reach Bolpur and then never came back until their summer holidays to their hometown. This is exactly what ancient gurukuls and ashrams asked of children given by parents to rishis and gurus. The upnayanam ceremony of young boys (strong gender biases then!) marked their entry into Brahmcharya, when they adopted the guru as their father and practised celibacy, poverty and obedience for many years. What a pity that we have forgotten the wisdom of ancient Hindus and Buddhists, who set up such universities as Nalanda and Taxila.

The book, now with a publisher, is a fascinating account of this great ashram, seen through the eyes of a child and recorded with such love and respect that I envy all those who studied and taught there. These included such famous names as Mrinalini Sarabhai, Satyajit Ray, Balraj Sahni and Acharya Hazari Prasad Dwivedi, to name just a few. There are many other celebrities but you will have to wait to read the book to discover what it was about Tagore’s magic that made them all become better human beings for having grown under his shadow. The book was written over 50 years ago but its relevance to present times, when we all are being compelled to think out of the box, gives it a special resonance. To make it available to educationists struggling to break the rigidities of a set and needlessly heavy curriculum and let young minds free to forge their own paths to discovering the wonders of this world would be a great contribution, I think.

Now to two deaths in quick succession that shook all of us: Irrfan Khan and Rishi Kapoor. Wonderful actors, their lives occupy two ends of a spectrum. Rishi was the third generation of an illustrious filmi parivar and his grandfather (the thespian Prithviraj Kapoor) and father (Raj Kapoor) as well as his uncles and cousins, were rightly referred to as the Bombay film industry’s first family. A long career, full of highs and lows, ended with some outstanding films he did when he re-invented himself as an actor. He was full of life and shared the love of food, fun and the high life which his family was famous for.

Irrfan, on the other hand, was by no means a ‘chocolate box’ boy. He had a brooding presence, hooded eyes like that of a cobra; he was shy, self-effacing and as far away as possible from the joyful ebullience of Chintu Kapoor. He had no famous family name to encash when he arrived in Bombay. Yet, look at the heights he reached! Talent will always find its own way up.