I can only hope to learn: Fearful future of a Tribal Family

I was waiting for the auto after taking a self-development session at Dahagaon Ashram shala. Waiting for an auto has been a normal ritual for me for the last 4 months. I started taking sessions at the Ashram shala as part of my JSW foundation fellowship. (Ashramshala is a residential school for the tribal students remotely located in Maharashtra)

I was speaking with adivasi (tribal) kids with a vada pav in one hand & tea in the other, at a local shop outside school. Taking pride in having made a decision to live a purposeful life of making an impact. That is, until I sat in the auto to get back home that day. 

Atul’s father, Ramesh Dada, happened to share the auto with me. Atul had stopped coming to Ashramshala school for a year. After getting to know about me, Ramesh Dada requested me to visit his home and speak to Atul. The idea was to motivate and convince Atul to continue his studies. I agreed to visit his house the next day.  

Atul’s house was at the outskirts of Dahagaon village, near the fields of villagers. Atul belongs to the Katkari tribe (Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Group). People of this community lie in the lowest prism of the lowest section of our society.

I took a walk of roughly 2 km from the main road of Dahagaon village to the hamlet, in one of which was Atul’s house. I would have given up if 3 little kids from the village had not accompanied me. We were sharing one umbrella, crossing fields, a canal and a mountain. It was raining cats and dogs out there. Amidst the challenges, I loved the trekking experience. 

I was welcomed with suspense filled eyes of women washing dishes outside their huts. I saw a group of kids catching fish in the canal nearby. I couldn’t see any washrooms and water taps there. Rainwater had made pathways for itself. A few infant young girls and boys were staring at me with glittering eyes. 

With some trepidation, I folded my hands and uttered a namaskar to the women looking at me suspiciously. I introduced myself as a teacher at the Ashram Shala of their village appointed by the Jindal company. By this time, a few of the kids had already recognised me. I was a bit relieved to have been accepted as a respectful teacher. 

I proceeded to ask for Ramesh Dada’s house, there were only huts around. Atul was busy fishing and playing with his friends. Atul’s mother Ravina Mausi brought a chair from a neighbour’s family for me. It was uncomfortable for the social worker in me to sit at a higher level than the community, but I also didn’t want to reject her offer of respect. So, we started our conversation after I kept my bag on the chair. 

I was told that I was the 1^st teacher to visit that area. Kids surrounded me, they were having fun hearing an alien language (Hindi)at a fast pace. I was barely catching up with their Marathi dialect. It was hard to have a conversation until Mr. Ramesh Dada arrived. 

After speaking to them I got to know that Atul’s elder sister Reena dropped out from the same school last year, in 9^th grade. Atul was the family’s last hope. When they were young, Ravina Mausi (Atul’s mother) took them to school which is 4.7 kilometers away. Ravina Mausi ji had to make two round trips to drop and pick up the children from school. So, she would walk for 18 km on school days just to make sure her children attend school. Ravina Mausi ji said “Now, the kids are grown up, they make decisions for themselves. We are helpless parents”

I was wondering why they didn’t put their kids in the Ashram shala hostel. Family shared that the school doesn’t allow students of nearby villages to stay at the hostel because of lesser accommodation facilities. 

With a thought of striking up a conversation with Atul I asked about his future plans. How would he satisfy his basic needs? To which Atul replied “I would work in the warehouse in Padgha”. Atul aims to work for a storage facility located nearby. His aspirations are the same as most of the local seniors of his community who join the company after taking their Secondary School Certificate (10^th standard) exam.   

I was at sea after imagining myself in their position. I too had grown up in a rural environment, but it was not at the loss of access to opportunities. My school was only 100 meters away, my father could teach me at home. I was privileged to have good food, a roof over my head and availability of drinking water.  

I went with that thought to influence Atul to rejoin school, but I was lost in contemplation. I was helpless beyond imagination. Parents weren’t to be blamed. They were trying their best to guide and provide a conducive environment to educate their kids. 

I saw the failure of society as a whole where some sections are left behind. Deprived of basic needs. Economic, social, cultural & political disparity creates an unbridgeable gap. How could we expect social mobility in one generation in such cases. Even the best of policies can’t reach the people at the last rung of the ladder.

I couldn’t directly ask Atul to walk the 10 kilometers daily to attend school. I tried telling him various modes of learning – talking, travelling, listening, apart from reading and writing. I attempted to make Atul realise to learn valuable life lessons from his parents. Skills to survive and have HOPE!

(Names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.)