Sunday, January 20, 2013

Evaluation

The latest (January 17) issue of Desh magazine carries a short story by Seema Ray titled Mulyayan (evaluation). It hit me somewhere very deep, for reasons which will become apparent when you read the summary given below.

A professor of physics in contemporary Kolkata who was also a successful private tutor is now retired, a widower who lives alone, with only a devoted old maidservant for company. He is financially comfortable, but even his grown up children live far away. He rediscovers an old pupil, Arpan, who had never been a ‘bright student’ in the conventional sense – couldn’t ‘crack’ the joint entrance test to become a doctor or engineer (the teacher had once urged Arpan’s father not to ‘waste money’ on the boy, since he was patently not good enough) – and has now opened a mobile phone shop in the neighbourhood, but is doing well, albeit on a small scale. Arpan turns out to be very respectful and useful in many different little ways, so that mashtarmoshai gradually begins to look forward to his company and rely on his help, even to the extent of being driven by him to the wedding of another ex-student. Arpan resents but quietly bears with his teacher’s constant boasting about how many ‘successful’ students he has produced, in terms of how well they are doing in their respective careers, in India and abroad. It is only after Arpan saves his life following a cardiac arrest by rushing him to hospital and taking care of many other incidental needfuls, at some cost to himself and without having any obligation whatever to do so while most of his ‘brilliant’ old boys and girls cry off with the excuse of being busy and far away – even the daughter flies in well after the crisis is over – that he has a change of heart. As he tells Arpan, he’s going to start tutoring again, but this time he will take especial care of the weak and slow learners.

I am ashamed to say that my generation of teachers and parents and the one immediately preceding it – I know hundreds of them personally and closely – is directly responsible for creating a whole generation of ‘successful’ monsters, and like this mashtarmoshai we find out to our great chagrin how deep and deadly our failure is only when we are finally lonely and helpless. We needed to make far more Arpans than all those doctors and engineers without souls and consciences that we have managed to produce instead. I haven’t, of course, been able to change things much; I am very small fry – but as everybody who knows me and my life’s work will aver, it has been my personal jihad lifelong that I shall not be one more parent and teacher of that sort. Indeed, I have been hated, feared, abused, ridiculed and as far as possible isolated by folks of these two generations precisely because I have lived and preached against the established zeitgeist. I shall not have to learn this particular lesson so late in life. And maybe it is because I refuse to boast about anything concerning my old boys and girls except the sort of human beings they have become that so many stay away, knowing that they will never be able to get one good word about themselves from this Sir’s mouth, no matter what their JEE rank was, what position they work in and where, and what size their paycheques are… we need real men, said Vivekananda, everything else will take care of itself. No no, we decided instead, we only need legions of technicians. Let us see how much longer this country needs to realize who was the fool.

7 comments:

Tanmoy said...

Dear Suvroda

I don’t know what to say.

I doubt though whether the country will realise anything in our lifetime. India has changed drastically. It gave me immense pleasure to read your travelogue this year mostly for the mention of good times spent with old boys. I wish all of you well and hope you continue to have them around you.

Kind regards
Tanmoy

Suvro Chatterjee said...

Yes, you are right Tanmoy. I read the veteran photographer Raghu Rai's interview in my newspaper today, and he too has said: 'India has changed drastically, and not for the better'...

Rashmi Datta said...

Dear Sir,

So thoughtful and so true!
God knows how many Arpans have been left disappointed by their teachers and parents who have never been able to understand them.

Far from helping and teaching their children to become better human beings, parents and teachers seem to have strictly discouraged them from keeping their souls and conscience intact. What we have as a result is a large army of technicians who demand that their ideas and opinions get the same attention as those of much more learned and thoughtful people. God save us.

Sir, there was a time a few years back when almost all of my acquaintances including my parents completely mistrusted me because I had exhausted all my opportunities of becoming a ‘successful’ person in my life. None cared for the kind of person I was. It was only your kind sympathy and encouragement which helped me cope up with that situation. Your unprejudiced and selfless compassion for a stranger like me still amazes me. Thank you Sir, for always being there.

Warm regards
Rashmi

Vaishnavi said...

Dear Sir,

The fault is on both sides Sir; maybe the teachers fail to recognise anyone except the high scorers, but the students also fail to go back and reconnect with old teachers. On the Chennai - Bangalore highway a couple of days ago, a pristine white BMW 5 series was going ahead of us; presently a window rolled down and a lady threw out a half eaten Mc Donald's burger right on to the highway. We were ogling the car because it is an extraordinary specimen of engineering but we had nothing but disgust for the lady. It is these kind of people unfortunately, who typify Urban India today.

Regards,
Vaishnavi

Sayan Datta said...

Dear Suvro Sir,

It is indeed sad that the teacher in the story had to wait till the fag end of his life to discover a simple truth and also the depth of his failure. It is poignant and sad but true that for most people the moment of truth arrives at their old age, stripped of post and 'status', lonely and helpless, when fate forces them to stand naked in front of the mirror and face the unbearable fact that they have lived utterly empty lives and confront their hitherto purposeless, vacuous existence. On one level I am glad that the mastermoshai realized his mistake and had the guts to start anew. And for that much I respect him, knowing only too well that the numerous private tutors I come across and hear about, here, do not even stand a chance as far as self-assessment and rectification go. Far too many of them uncannily resemble the mastermoshai before he had a change of heart. The reason for this is simple – most, if not all of them are still adolescents in thought, often insensitive, ignorant of any field of study beyond their subject, even contemptuous of those and scornful of people who don’t have an aptitude for science but may possess other human qualities in ample proportions that they themselves fall shamefully short of. How can a plethora of doctors and engineers make up for that vast chasm of empty space in society created by the cancer that is eating up from within? We need them, I don’t disagree. But isn’t it again, a matter of prioritizing? Do we not need teachers and historians and scientists and philosophers and poets and writers and artists in at least the same measure?

The second fact Sir, is that these tutors , in terms of the regard they have for their work, are no different than the average roadside vegetable seller, so much so that I wonder whether they can be called teachers in any sense at all. But this is bound to happen, I tell myself, if focus irretrievably shifts from teaching to money-making, from transferring the essence of the subject to the keen student to ‘coaching’ for the purpose of cracking one exam alone? In my book regard for work is directly proportional to love for work and knowledge of the work one is supposed to carry out. And this makes me wonder…

Of course, the ex-students and the protagonist’s daughter have much to blamed for too. Immediate need over, people of their sort pack their bags and leave in a huff and forget that the teacher or the father even existed. People like Arpan however are far more valuable to society. We need to produce and groom more people of their sort.

Suvro Chatterjee said...

... and therein lies the rub, Sayan. It is vastly easier to 'teach' a bit of math or chemistry or English grammar than to make good people, the reason being that one has to change oneself drastically first, so that one can become a role model that one's wards can look up to and emulate with respect, conviction and hope. Try finding teachers like that, and our schools and colleges, all chock-full of highly 'qualified' people, will become empty. As someone who has consciously tried to do just that lifelong, I can vouch for how tough and thankless a task that is.

sayantika said...

Dear Sir,
I have read the said story in Desh and while I was reading it, the first thought that I had was that Sir never judged students by marks and JEE ranks and he had told the same umpteen times in the classes.
Obsession with marks and ranks and later money and status has made us blind to goodness of heart. Although my relatives eulogise the 'achievements' of my engineer cousins, in times of need, they invariably fall back on another cousin who is a small-time businessman and I believe, is quite successful considering the odds. We need to appreciate the latter more.
Thanks and with regards,
Sayantika