A story from one of my south Indian Friends.
Reservation, for whom?
The incident I narrate took place a few years ago. I will tell you later why I remembered it now.
One afternoon at three or so, my doorbell rang. When I opened it, in front of me was standing a thin, fair girl of around 11 or 12 in a faded frock. Her short, uncombed hair was strewn all over her face. She was carrying a heavy bag in each of her hands.
“I have murukku, omapori, pakavada…. all homemade by my mother. They are very tasty. You can first taste and then buy,” Though there was no necessity to buy any fried food then, I felt sorry for the little kid who had to work at such a young age.
She said her name was Lakshmi.
I tasted a murukku; yes, it indeed tasted very good.
“My mother makes everything at home. Please buy,” she was almost pleading. I bought a few packets.
As I was giving her money, I asked whether she was not going to school or not. “Of course, I am going to school.” She also gave me the name of the school. “Today is a holiday. That is why I am here now.”
She said she lived in a place called Thiruvanmiyoor which is about 4 kms from where I stay. “So, do you catch a bus and go around?” I asked her.
“If I have to spend money on bus, there will not be much left. So, I walk.”
“But then, for a girl like you, it takes a long time to walk, that too with such heavy bags,” I was slightly disturbed by what she said.
“That’s ok. My mother says we have to be very careful with money. You know my father passed away three years ago. My mother runs the house by making these eatables; she has to bring up my two little brothers and me. I help her after school hours by selling what she makes,” she was ready with answers.
After that, she was a regular at my house, and every time she came, whether I needed it or not, I had to buy something or the other.
After the first day, she made it a point to come only after five, and said, “I have come after school. So, don’t ask me whether I didn’t have class today.”
Somehow, it always disturbs me to see children not going to school, and working at a very young age.
After each visit, she went on revealing more about her family, how poor they were and how difficult it was to pay the school fees, and how good a student she was. “I get 100 in maths, 99 in science, 98 in social studies, 95 in English… The only subject I am poor in is Tamil. I got only 80 in the last exam.”
I then asked her where exactly in Thiruvanmiyoor she lived but she refused to give me the address. “I know only how to go there. I don’t know the street address. I will ask my mother and tell you next time.”
“Lakshmi, I want to see your mother. So, bring the address on a piece of paper, ok?” I told her.
A girl who came to my house at least two times a week did not come for a few weeks after promising to bring her house address. I thought, maybe she had exams.
One afternoon, as I was coming back after an assignment, I saw Lakshmi walking in the sun carrying two heavy bags. I stopped my vehicle near her.
“It’s not a holiday today. Are you not going to school, Lakshmi? Tell me the truth.”
She just looked at me blankly and started walking. I told her to stop and answer my question. “I know you are not going to school. Why don’t you tell me where you stay? I will help you.” She simply refused to look at me and tried to walk fast.
I got down from my vehicle and stopped her. She gave me a hard look and said, “Please leave me. I don’t have anything to tell you. Please don’t disturb me.”
I stood there transfixed, unable to say anything or move from there.
I still cannot understand why she refused to accept help from me. Looking back, I feel all her stories about school, teachers, her marks etc were purely her dreams. But why did she act as if she didn’t know me when I caught her on the road? Why didn’t she accept help from me?
It was the image of this little girl that came to my mind when reports on reservation in institutions like the IITs, IIMs etc appeared in the newspapers. There are many, many Lakshmis in Tamil Nadu where 69% of seats are reserved in all the educational institutions. There are many, many Lakshmis in India too. Who will take care of their education? Who will help them realise their dreams?
I still remember, with me in my school in Trivandrum were many very poor students whose families found it hard to pay the fees (which of course were very minimal in government schools). They would not buy all the text books, or enough notebooks.
Also with me in class was the daughter of a minister who didn’t have to pay any fees because the minister belonged to the reserved category.
Strange are the ways in India!
Our education might be amongst the best in the world courtsey IIMs and IITs...But we still have a very long way to go.........
and Quota!!!!!!!! Hahaha,, there is no place for it, if the future needs to be bright.
