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1K a r v a n | M a y 2 0 1 4
...there ain’t no journey what don’t change you
some. “-David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas
“ Editorial Team
Ranjani Polepeddi
Lijya Perayil
Sandhya Shankar
Lalateindu Chhura
Aditya Gawande
Lakshmi Narayana G
Ashish Koshi
From the
Dear Readers,
Karvan turns three this year! We are thrilled to see that this toddler’s
family is growing by the year.
Initiated by the First batch and nurtured by the Second, taken forward
by the Third, ‘Karvan’, as its name suggests, carries tales of the
journeys that we make through the year as individuals and as a group
united by a cause.
This year, Karvan is a humble attempt at bringing together a year of:
• Finding reasons to celebrate together every now and then.
• Events that bring in a fresh breath of fun between the bundles
of assignments.
• Fond memories of running between the canteen and the
classroom.
• Thoughts evoked by deep conversations at practicums, in
classrooms, over chai and just about anywhere else.
• And experiences that now have a new meaning with fresh
perspectives.
We would like to thank all the contributors and supporters of
Karvan who continue to fuel our journey. Please send your
suggestions, contributions (in any language) and comments to us at
editorialclub@apu.edu.in
We hope you enjoy your journey with our very own Karvan.
Warmly,
Ranjani Polepeddi
Editor
2 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 3K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
Message FroM s. giridhar
It is mid April 2014 as I write this and I realize that I am already preparing to say “goodbye, but we will
keep in touch” to students of the 2012 batch. The two years seem to have zipped past and already
the 2013 batch are veterans preparing to enter their second year. We now have 390 students on
campus and come July 2014 we will be 600 students. Remember we started with 85 in July 2011.
Are we retaining that warmth, that spirit of adventure, that conviction and that innocence with which
we began? I have asked myself this question many times because for a University with our kind of
clear social purpose, the spirit and culture we build and retain at our University is all too important.
Are we building a student community that is truly integrated; that embraces the unique diversity that
we strive to have; that demonstrates the spirit of sharing and caring for each other? If we have to
answer each of these questions with a “yes”, day after day and year after year, it will require each
one of us to live and breathe the values and vision of the University. We must.
I know the cycles of classes, assignments, practicum and so on can leave students breathless at
times, but what is good to see is how we make time for other equally important facets of the learning
experience in the University. And so for instance – and I only use one example as an illustration -
when the students form PAHAL, the club that is committed to environmental consciousness and responsibility, create a groundswell of opinion
for the recycling of cups or campaign to minimize wastage of food or to restore a vanishing lake, one feels so happy. Equally so when the Quiz
club organizes its wonderful quizzes that always have their unique charm.
Our first batch came for their convocation in October 2013. It was quite simply a memorable event for the elegance and simplicity with which
we conveyed the spirit and purpose of our University. We now look forward to the 2nd convocation, sometime around August/ September 2014.
The wonderful thing for people like me – the members of the University – is that we get re-energized by every batch. There is always a sense
of missing you as you graduate and leave, but even before we can feel that too much, we are celebrating the arrival of the new batch, with its
own unique talents. So we remember “Konappanagrahara anthem” that the first batch gave us, the musical highlight of Ritu and Shahzeb at
the convocation and of course similar gifts that every batch will bestow on the University even as we look forward to new treasures.
But somewhere I also find myself in a vortex of disquiet. Why do only a handful of students attend the Independence Day or Republic Day
celebration? Why do only a handful of students come to cheer their colleagues as they play a cliffhanger cricket match with the faculty? When
open houses are conducted – mostly to discuss issues that are central to student life at the University – why are quite a few students absent?
Why is attendance consistently low as I discovered in recent times? Why do not all students participate in good numbers in their own club
activities? Why do I get a feeling that somewhere along the way, a sense of entitlement and taking for granted is beginning to pervade. Perhaps
we could all introspect and do whatever is necessary to correct the trend.
Our programs are designed to prepare people who are committed to working in the social sector, are passionate about making a difference to
the world in which they live and have the capabilities to translate these desires into effective action. We believe these two years of learning build
upon the students’ inherent motivation so that they can go out and make a genuine difference to India. Perhaps Placement time is when we
can see whether we are realizing these goals. Last year virtually every student interested in placement was placed. Over 75% of the students
went out to grass root organizations and field institutions, something that resonates with the overarching purpose of the University. We have to
see how things pan out this year. Since this column is a personal column, I have the licence to say that it concerns me when students make
a choice based only on the location (read a metro city) or the compensation. However if the choice is based on the ‘kind of work I wish to do’
that is completely different.
I wish all our 2012 batch graduates the best of luck and look forward to keeping in touch with them in the future. As you know, all our students
retain their @apu.edu.in email Id which for us is an important element of this continued association.
For the batch of 2013 that will move into its second year, the responsibility is to welcome the new batch with warmth, kindness and friendship;
help them settle in so well that we have a truly integrated student community both at the hostels and at the University campus. Skepticism and
cynicism are easy. Idealism, belief in goodness and values are difficult but infinitely more fulfilling and rewarding.
ContentsMESSAGES
From S. Giridhar 03
From Anurag Behar 04
LIFE AT THE UNIVERSITY
The Stage is yours 06
The Bangalore walk 07
Pahal 08
Photography - Discovered 09
Celebrating diversity 10
Sports at Azim Premji University 14
Annual curiosity conference 15
Unmukt Photo Essay 16
The first and the last time 18
We asked our seniors 19
EXPRESSIONS
You know you are 24
Abiding strings 25
What do you mean 26
My tryst with education 27
Paper to visuals 28
What Practicums 29
A life away 30
IN VERSE 31Selected Poems from Azim Premji University Students
My experiences with Vikasana 42
On being a teacher 43
Reflections 44
A fragrant memory 45
A Sea story 45
Cuckoo’s Birthday 47
Instant coffee 48
4 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y
life at theUNIVERSITY
Message FroM anurag Behar
In a village 40 km from Barmer, in a school amidst sand dunes, what I saw was remarkable. It was
a water harvesting pit some 25 feet in diameter. The school has three inter-connected tanks, which
stored water that was collected from the pit and many other places (including the roof top) of the
school. The water usage system was as thoughtfully designed, e.g. the water from washing hands
is used in the toilets. They take care of their entire year’s water needs. The whole system has been
designed and implemented by the team of teachers at the school. The team is equally energetic on
educational issues.
A team from the Foundation works with this school. The experience is equally enriching on both
sides. Participating in this experience is a student who graduated in the first batch of the University.
His immersion in such experiences is wonderful; I am sure his batch-mates are going through similar
experiences across the country in different organizations (or on their own), learning and contributing.
As the second batch is about to graduate, and go out to similar experiences, I thought I would share
a few thoughts about “working”……in my experience these are relevant, no matter where you are
and what you do……
1. Building and nurturing human relationships is often more important than proving a point or “being right”, and at the core of it is a genuine
concern for people that one works with.
2. Humility is a much underrated quality; it helps both in learning and making friends…..and eventually in being effective…..aside from its
intrinsic importance.
3. Reality is what it is, one has to understand it, and then work to change it; don’t be critical of people..…..you must mentally (and with friends)
critique, but to change things you have to be constructive in action and feeling.
4. Taking the initiative and taking responsibility, unasked for and uncalled for, is what changes things.
5. Integrity, good-humour and energy have no substitute…..we should try to be energy-givers to those whom we work with, not energy-sappers.
All of you became a part of this institution, because you resonate with its purpose – to contribute directly to a just, equitable, humane and
sustainable society.
We know that it’s unlikely that we will achieve this purpose, while we work. But giving it our best shot is what we must do. Every step in that
direction brings us closer. And this bridging of the gap is what will make sure that those who are at it after us will achieve the purpose in full
measure.
Wishing you all the best!
6 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 7K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
Symbiosis Institute, Bangalore Campus at 8 in
the morning was a fresh sight. They had a neat
lawn, beautiful flowers of different colours and the
monsoon had just set in. The atmosphere couldn’t
have smelt nicer. I, however, was not feeling as bright. It
was a week since I had come to Azim Premji University and
my initial excitement was beginning to ebb away. People
had started settling into their places and as a late bloomer;
I still had not found mine. Nevertheless, I had trudged that
morning, along with other folks in my group, to the Symbiosis
campus for a theatre workshop as part of our orientation.
Once we had gathered in our allotted groups, I noticed one
familiar face and felt a relief that cannot be put into words.
I went and stood near Raji and she greeted me with a hug.
She was in the middle of a conversation with her previous
colleagues, none of whom I had seen before that morning.
I stood by quietly, listening to all that was said. Soon we
had to go inside, with our respective groups, and then our
instructor for the next two days walked in. He had a friendly
face and a bright smile. I was already feeling better about
the day. Anand, as he introduced himself later, didn’t say a
word. Instead, he placed four items on the floor in a square
and gestured for us to gather around. We were to introduce
ourselves, saying a piece while picking up each object. My
first reaction was apprehension and I was dreading my turn.
I had stage fright and always lost my words in front of a large
group. Finally, when it was my turn, I walked slowly towards
the items and stammered my details. Anand must have
noticed it because for the next activity, he picked me to lead.
It was a trust exercise where we had to hold the shoulders
of another person, close our eyes and follow them wherever
they want. I was the one everyone had to follow. At the end of
the activity, everyone had something to say about this novel
experience. It was a clear ice-breaker. The activities that
followed were fun and I could feel myself loosen up, despite
having all eyes on me. But the real challenge was posed after
lunch. We had to stand in the centre of the room and have
a random, spontaneous conversation with another person. I
was unable to say anything more than a monosyllable without
taking a full minute. When it was break time, Anand came up
to me to ask what happened to me. Embarrassed, I told him
my problem. In his manner, he brushed it off saying it was all
in my head and that I was a natural. I took that as praise that
I did not deserve. But I could see some truth in it the next day.
We were going to end the two-day workshop with a street play
performance. After discussing the story and the dialogues
(Anand showed us the entire play as a mono-act, which
was brilliant), we decided on characters. There was a scene
where the protagonist was ragged by a couple of goons. We
already had one and nobody else seemed keen on the role.
When I stepped up for it, Anand playfully said there couldn’t
be a better person for the role. I had a blast practicing and
coming up with cool goon-like dialogues to eve-tease. I also
got compliments from my group-mates about how authentic
I seemed. There were even jokes about me finding my skin.
But I was still nervous about the stage. When it was time
for us to perform, I felt an excitement I had not felt on stage
before. I hiked up my collar, gave the protagonist a smug
look and spontaneously delivered a dialogue. The audience
laughed (though they laughed harder at her retort). I felt really
good about myself in front of all those people I didn’t know.
Fear lost out.
THE STAGEIS YOURSSandhya, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15
We already had one and nobody else seemed keen on that role. When I stepped up for it, Anand playfully said there couldn’t be a better person for the role. ”
The University had put us into random groups
to promote interaction and bonding among the
students through a fun outing into the city. Many
of us were getting our first chance at exploring
the city. Quite a few of the students stuck to their assigned
groups and destinations and had a great time through the
walk. However, some of us, united by the religion of food and
wanderlust, got together to explore the food scene in the city.
A group of us, who barely knew each other beyond names
and cordial “Hi’s!” headed to Mosque Road and Frazer town
to experience the celebration of Iftar food on the last Friday
before Id.
Some of us sworn non-vegetarians, some solemn vegetarians,
and one of us who was under the illusion that she was a
vegetarian. While tasting delicacies from Hyderabad and Lucknow, I also got a taste of being with these amazing people who I knew I would go to if I were in need – to eat, talk, chill, think aloud, sing and remind each other about assignments! I vividly remember the bus rides to and from Shantinagar. On the way to the stop, we were all in the “So where are you from?” mode…and on our way back, we comfortably slipped into “Arre pata hai hum college mein kya karte the…” mode. I came back to my room very stuffed and happy that night, knowing that the real craziness would start on the following Monday – Day 1 of our semester.
After all, as the title suggests, it wasn’t about the destination, it was about the journey with new people who go on to become some of your closest friends on campus and in this city.
THE BANGALOREWALKRanjani Polepeddi, M.A. Education, ’13 – ’15
OVERCOMING FEARS
DURING ORIENTATION
8 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 9K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
With the objective of practising the values and ideas
discussed in our classrooms, this club was initiated to provide
a valuable platform for volunteers to engage in creating
enabling environments and taking steps towards building
a just, equitable, sustainable and humane society through
campaigns and other activities.
The club had initiated action on curbing wastage of food and
considerable success has been achieved on this front, thanks
to the “Kachara Crusaders” of Pahal. This team came up with
an innovative idea to sensitize students, faculty and support
staff about the wasteful usage of paper cups and paper plates.
As part of the waste management and reduction initiative,
the team segregated and collected used paper cups over a
week and created an installation out of the same. This was
the team’s way of sensitizing and raising awareness within
the student community. They showed that in just a week, the
entire University community had thrown away 2,462 cups
(equivalent to 8.7 kg). This amounts to approximately 10,833
cups (38 kg) in a month and 54,165 cups (190 kg) in a year!
This led to a large number of students signing up for reusable
cups. The team is taking efforts towards keeping this practise
going. For further waste management work inside campus,
the club is tying up with Reap Benefit, an organisation that
facilitates waste reduction and management programmes in
institutions.
Some of the club members, with the help of committed
volunteers are teaching children of the construction labourers
living on the campus about waste management. About 16
students (aged 10-14 yrs) regularly attend the classes. The
volunteers for this school initiative designed the syllabus with
the help of two faculty mentors and have driven this program
to make it functional. The team at the education initiative
are working hard hoping to make a small difference in this
enormous world of ours.
PAHAL- THE CLUB FOR SOCIAL INITIATIVES
Display of used paper cups at the foyer area, Pixel B
Creating posters for awareness campaigns on wastage reduction.
- From Pahal
- From Pixelz
Other future activities include: organizing a Blood donation
camp, an RTI Workshop, an interaction with construction
workers and the “Save Water, Save Electricity” campaign on
campus.
Members of University family are welcome to suggest or
initiate relevant ideas / issues through the club. The core
members of the club will discuss the same and try to plan an
intervention. The club is under the guidance of Professor Sujit
Sinha, the faculty mentor of the club.
What is Photography?
It is “Playing with Light”, which is the source of life
on earth. With the help of all the enthusiastic clickers
on campus we formed ‘Pixelz’- the Photography
Club at Azim Premji University on 25th November, 2013.
Pixelz was the most awaited club at the University. With a
strength of 15 at the moment, we look forward for a more
passionate bunch of ‘Clickers’. ‘Pixelz’ had organized Photo
exhibitions in the University on ‘World Aids Day’ and on
the college Cultural Fest ‘Unmukt-14’. The club had
organized a Photography workshop, conducted by Suhas
Premkumar, the well-known wildlife photographer, whose photos
have featured in the National Geographic Magazine’s International
sections. Going ahead, we are planning some interesting photo-
walks for the passionate photographers on campus. Some interesting
theme based Photo contests are also being planned for the
forthcoming semesters. So get your cameras ready folks!
Find the Club website at https://sites.google.com/a/apu.edu.in/pixelz/
PHOTOGRAPHY: DISCOVERED...
Comic by: Asif Akhtar
The broad aim of the club is to get involved in social initiatives within and outside the campus.
10 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 11K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
At Azim Premji University we soaked in the diversity that this place offered. Students come from small towns,
villages and cities from across the country to learn and be together. You have to see it to believe it.
We’ve heard so many languages being spoken around us. And the joy on one’s face on having found
someone from his/her native town which allowed one to converse in one’s own language are moments of such
delight that we at the University absolutely love!
Almost every day in the Indian calendar is a festival or rather we make a festival of every day. With the diversity that enriches
the University, we have come together and seen various festivals being celebrated with food, pomp, good cheer and laughter!
The beginning of the academic session presented itself with the celebration of Independence Day on 15th August 2013. We
hoisted the national flag in the morning followed by a short cultural program of music and inspiring poems recited by some
students and a few professors. The rest of the day saw exciting workshops like clay modelling and face painting.
CELEBRATING DIVERSITY
Onam was celebrated at the University with a lovely pookalam in the Foyer area and the traditional sarees and mundu which students were delighted to wear.
Diwali was celebrated at the hostels with sweets, good food, music and a lot of dancing.
- From Lijya Perayil, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15
12 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 13
Children’s day was celebrated with the little children from around our campus
And festivals cannot be complete without our mesmerizing music makers..
Then one day we came and we saw …
A beautiful folk painting from Odisha drawn by Manjari Samal, one of our classmates at University! It was the Story of Jhoti Chita: when during the harvest festival the mud walls and floors are decorated with murals in white rice paste or pithau. We learnt that this is drawn not just for the purposes of decorating the house, but to establish a relationship between the mystical and the material symbolizing how the culture of Odisha is deeply embedded with the earth.
We came back to University for the second semester and celebrated Republic day on 26th of January 2014.
And the epic test of strength..
Can your cycle get any slower?
Repu
blic
Day
cel
ebra
tion
Tie and dye workshops!
As we wrap up this academic year at the University, we look forward to a host of celebrations in the following year with the incoming batch.
Splashes of Colour.. And there you go!
While Gudhi Padwa was celebrated at the hostels on 31st March, 2014 by distribution of sweets and best wishes for the Marathi New year, the spirit of Ugaadi / Yugaadi (Kannada and Telugu New Year) was shared with the student fraternity on 1st April by preparing and sharing the quintessential Ugaadi preparation – the Ugaadi Pachchadi (from Andhra Pradesh)
K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
14 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 15
SPORTS AT AZIM PREMJI UNIVERSITY
Football (Girls) : Winning team – Batch of ’12 – ‘14
Badminton (Mixed Doubles) : Prelims
Shoot to unwind – Basket Ball on campus.
The Centre for curiosity was started as a means
to engage in trans-disciplinary research into the
concept of ‘curiosity’ with the specific purpose of
creating curricular tools for teachers and students.
“Curiosity” in its most basic form draws our attention to
things that are interesting. But while this may appear simple,
curiosity is also a deeper and more complex phenomenon
capable of playing a critical role in the pursuit of a meaningful
life. By being curious, we explore. By exploring, we discover.
The Centre for Curiosity’s mission is driven by three
intertwined questions:
• What is curiosity and how is it measured?
• How does one “trigger” curiosity?
• What curricular tools can be developed as related to
curiosity?
The Centre for curiosity seeks to answer these key questions
by creating a team of scholars, artists, practitioners, and
technologists who can develop research insights into curiosity
as well as find methods to effectively implement these
research findings in schools.
On the 28th of February 2014, the Azim Premji University
students and teachers came together with NGO and
private sector innovators to host the First Annual Curiosity
Conference. Organized by Arjun Shankar and first year
students, Ranjani Polepeddi, Nanak Bhatia, Shubhrata Das,
Divya Joseph, and Divya Subramaniam, the conference
sought to explore two central questions: First, how do we
harness and release the natural curiosity of our students?
Second, how might developing curiosity help to improve
classroom learning? The idea behind the conference, funded
by the Center for Curiosity, was to bring together ‘curious
people’ to investigate a concept which remains understudied
in the academic disciplines and, we believe, holds great
possibilities for changing how we think about education in
India.
Distinguished panelists discussed curiosity from a diverse
array of perspectives including cognition, story-telling,
pedagogy, emotions, entrepreneurship, challenges in school
settings and ethics. The final presentation by Bruce Lee
Mani, of Thermal and a Quarter Band, brought questions of
musical education and curiosity together. Ritu & Shahzeb, our
in-house musicians pushed their creativity (a manifestation
of curiosity) by thrilling the audience with their remarkable
spontaneous performance. Finally, guests were invited to
view a ‘curious’ photo exhibit of photographs taken by 8th
and 9th standard students from Government High School at
Kadajakasandra, located 50km outside of Bangalore.
“Thank you for organizing the Conference and giving us all an
opportunity to be more curious. It was great to learn about so
many things so differently”, said Nitu, an Education student
who attended the conference. “The interaction between
attendees and speakers was rich and stimulating.” said Mr.
K.K.Subramaniam of Shikshana foundation who made a
presentation at the conference.
Looking forward to next year’s conference, we hope
to continue developing a space where members of the
University community at all levels – administrators, students,
and professors – can work together to think about how
education can look differently in the 21st Century and how
we can bridge our practical and intellectual concerns towards
educational change. As part of our ongoing activities, the
Center for Curiosity is building a ‘Curiosity Curriculum’
that highlights how teachers can promote curiosity in their
students while teaching the CBSE curriculum.
For more information and to find ways to get involved please visit: www.centerforcuriosity.com or contact Arjun Shankar @(arjunishankar@gmail.com).
THE FIRST ANNUAL CURIOSITY CONFERENCE
- CFC Team
K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
16 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 17
UNMUKT – ’14 PHOTO ESSAY
We celebrated our annual college festival,
‘Unmukt – ‘14’ on 21st and 22nd February,
2014. The spirit of Unmukt brought
everyone to life and broke the monotony of
assignments and classes. Most importantly, it brought us all
together in celebration. Guest lectures, workshops, music,
song and dance, drama, food stalls, we had it all! Here, we
present a few glimpses of the many fantastic performances
and innumerable moments of laughter and fun.
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- Ranjani Polepeddi, M.A. Education, ’13 – ’15
Imagining the beautiful
Bringing the lady to life
A presentation by Akram Feroze about his experiences across the country
DAY 1The Unmukt lady
Unveiling of Unmukt
Photography exhibition put up by PIXELZ
Celluloid Mela by the Celluloid club
Pottery workshop
Lantern making workshop
Finger puppets at the stalls
Apart from other items, jewellery made of sheets from old magazines
Khao aur khilao! We all love a good dish
Konappana Agrahara!! - keep a tradition alive.
Festivity fills the air!!
Sharanya Das (M.A. Dev ’12-’14) performing Odissi
Pushkar (M.A.Education 2013-15) performing Belly Dance
DAY 2 Pottery workshop continues
'The Odiya stall - Colour and Elegance!
Arre O Jumme! Have feet, will dance!
'Savitribai Phule', the book launch and the monologue
At the Dance Workshop - looking for the right feet
Ritu & Shahzeb – our star musicians performing for the last time
Photo credits: Keerti Bhandary (M.A. Dev ’13 – ’15), Nitu Bahal (M.A. Edu ’13 – ’15), Adeeba Rao (M.A. Edu ’13 – ’15)
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K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
18 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 19
It was September 2013, and I was getting anxious. Friends
from all over the country were finally coming back to
Bangalore for one big bash - our convocation. This was
to be the first convocation of the Azim Premji University,
and everyone associated was excited, nervous and frantic...
This would be the first time that my friends from University
and I would be all together, since we had graduated. But
then it dawned on me that it would also be the last time.
Sure, we would meet now and then but it would never be all
of us again. Never the whole gang again. Never the mad rag-
tag bunch of educationists and developmentalists (can we
call ourselves that?) under the same roof ever again. It was
therefore bittersweet, with smiles quickly getting drenched
with tears. The joy of meeting dear friends after so long,
instantly turning into questions of when we would meet again.
The Convocation ceremony was made memorable by
performances from Ritu and Shahzeb, who are exceptional
musicians who serenaded us every day (did you two ever
attend your classes?) through our last year in University...
Parents, siblings, and friends filled in the places. It was a
gorgeous auditorium, and everything was perfect thanks to
our junior batch and the ever diligent organizing team pulling
strings behind the scenes. Speeches were given, names
were mispronounced, degrees were handed out and dinner
was served. And it was over all too soon. What I remember
most was the spontaneous singing session that started as
soon as the important people had left. And that, in a nutshell,
is exactly what the Azim Premji University’s first batch was
all about. We might not be fantastic singers but we will sing.
We might not be field experts but we will learn. We might
not be dancers but we will dance (in moving buses too!). We
might not be academics but we will read and write our way
into those academic journals so that one day someone’s
Development Imagination term paper will have P.Dhal, 2016
in parentheses.
When I think back about the convocation, I am happy. It was
the final goodbye to everyone that made University a special
place for us; batch-mates, juniors, teachers, and everyone
else who I can’t list out here. It was the perfect finish to what
has been an amazing two years in my life. And like life in Azim
Premji University, we didn’t want it to end. The lessons we
learnt as well as the ones we didn’t will shape us forever and
hopefully we won’t cry so much when we meet again.
So here’s to you, batch of 2013! Namme Apupans! May the
madness continue forever!
THE FIRST AND THE LAST TIME
Photo credit: Nitu Bahal
- Ashish Koshi, ’11 - ’13
“I’ll miss the chit-chats over tea and coffee with
professors....I’ll miss laughing with Indira ma’am, Indrani’s
feedback being more than my assignment, discussions with
Prakash on movies, random conversations with Rahul and Anil
sir, Sujatha ma’am’s encouragement, Jyothsna’s guidance,
Amman’s and Namita’s eye-opening lectures, Shailaja and
Rajashree ma’am’s animated lessons, Jane’s and Ankur’s
sweet smiles, Sujith sir’s laugh, Rishi’s and Sindhu’s detailed
emails......I’ll miss them all.....:) ”
Ritika Chawla (M.A. Education)Shashi Bhushan Kumar
(M.A. Education)
“THAT ONE THING ABOUT THE UNIVERSITY…”
“The intellectual storehouse that are the students and
the faculty. Something we could tap
into at any time and come out satisfied and stimulated.” R. Sridhar Rao (M.A. Development)
“Azim Premji University : ‘That which does not kill us makes us stronger’ -
Friedrich Nietzsche (and Kelly Clarkson)”
Vibha Sequeira (M.A. Education)
“If only life itself was as amazing as it is at
Azim Premji University. Or perhaps henceforth
we could make it :)”
Lavanya Murali (M.A. Education)
“That one thing about Azim Premji University is the non-hierarchical culture between students and
faculty.”
Sangita Palod (M.A. Development)
“Of course here in University, there are lots of
opportunities for each one of us to learn and experiment.
But the three things which University has taught me are:
to dream big, to think for the society and people in it and
to create opportunities and turn it into a big adventure by
dreaming big.”
Aditya Pratap Singh (M.A. Development)
WE ASKED OUR SENIORS
AND HERE’S WHAT THEY HAD TO SAY…
“Incredible professors, fantastic library and that
stone platform outside pixel B!”
Siddhant Nowlakha (M.A. Development)
“The people and the possibility to do anything!”Shruti Srivastava (M.A. Development)
K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
20 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 21
Aboobacker Sidheeque (M.A. Education)
“That ‘one’ thing about Azim Premji University? Just one? Difficult! Okay…
As I write, there is just one word that forces itself to make its presence felt -
about how I feel - GRATITUDE.
This space has changed many things for me. It has changed me. The two years spent
here was a time spent on some deep introspection and in the process some really
wonderful people around shared their experience, offered some answers, forced me
to question - not criticise, helped me understand that everything, every ‘now’ has a
reason and that reason is a choice. Even that next moment is a choice - which leaves
us with Hope & Resolve. Well, I came here with Hope. Even better, I leave with
Resolve. Namaste! :)”
Harshita V Das (M.A. Education)
“For the first time I could see myself ‘being’,
‘becoming’ and ‘learning’. And I feel so powerful
now. According to ‘law of conservation of
power’, some transformation has taken place.
“You” lost it deliberately, for me to take it.
Kudos to my teachers and a thousand thanks”
Vijitha Rajan
(M.A. Education)
“The two years here at University have been a
lot more than what words can possibly express.
Every single moment- be it the intense classes,
evening walks, life at hostel, clubs, has played
an important role in bringing me to where I am
today. Proud to be part of this beautiful journey
at the University”
Priya Singh (M.A. Development)
“The one thing that the
University that taught me is the levels
of acceptance- it’s almost unconditional.
Each one of us I feel has been accepted
the way we are and given that chance to
be ourselves and blossom. Thank you Azim
Premji University!
Uma Maheshwari
(M.A. Development)
“Some places just let you explore and
experience life in its simplicity and some
places evoke that enthusiasm and eagerness
to learn both inside and outside the
classrooms, this is a place which did all that
to me and my most beautiful years.”
Kavitha Madhuri Reddy
(M.A. Education)
“Always memorable since University has shaped both my personal and professional life.”Robin Raj
(M.A. Development)
“Azim Premji University is a magnificent space which
has made me mindful about my
surroundings. It has taught me to be
proactive and left me inspired. These
years of my life, in spite of being
a short span of time, has equipped
me to face the challenges in the developmental space.”Muhammed Asrath
(M.A. Development)
“At the University I found out what it means to get an education.”- Nikhil Bangera (M.A. Education)
“Azim Premji University has facilitated an
environment to create social change agents
but I feel spiritual education and practices
could enhance our capability so that we
could achieve our vision of a just, equitable,
humane and sustainable society”
Pradeep Agrahari
(M.A. Development)
“Azim Premji University is the place where
unique cultures and a diverse knowledge
base are nurtured into a wealth of wisdom
potent enough to convert the commonly
shared dream of equitable society into a
sustained reality.”
Avinash Shankar (M.A. Development)
“The University has in many ways shaped my thinking and made me realize how much fun it is to be a part of a diversity! I have found myself and seen many others grow and change! It has left an imprint for life! :) “
Sonakshi Anand (M.A. Development)
“Living aspiration, friendship and love through music
make life at Azim Premji University beautiful. Here, I
found freedom in belonging.”
Ritu Gopal (M.A. Development)
“The best thing about University is that it’s a free place.
You do not know what you’re going to come out to be.
You think you know in the first year. Because, you’ve set out on a path.
By year two, you don’t know again. Could there be a year three maybe? Or would
that be too much to ask for? Then again, there will be many who will come out
knowing what they have learnt. And I can bet you that not all of them will have
learnt the same.
They will come out with their own portfolios (As the professors like to use the word
for assessments) There’s no standard. And, is that the best standard? Don’t get
me wrong now. There are structures in place. There are friendships aplenty. There
are learnings aplenty. And faculties aplenty. These make the standard I refer to.
Standard or no standard.” Jharna Kewalramani (M.A. Education)
“That one thing
about University is when
friendships are born over a
random trip with
strangers and the
love towards
home-made food!”
Mayuri Kulkarni (M.A. Education)
“A space blessed with people who love music
more than the noise that development
creates in the world makes Azim Premji
University truly different from others.”
Shahzeb Yamin (M.A. Development)
“Loved every day here!!”
Samvartika Nalam (M.A. Education)
K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
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22 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y
expressions
Life is a journey, not a destination.
Do not go where the path may lead, go
instead where there is no path and leave a trail.
“
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
“
24 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 25
Reflections
In my pre-University days, coming up with impressive party
openers would always be a challenge. ‘What can you
say that can floor the other person into admiration?’ was
always a social conundrum. My life is easily categorized
into ‘Pre-University’ and ‘Post-University’ days. During the
Pre-University days, mundane talk like ‘when are your
daughter’s exams?’ would rule most proceedings. During
my ‘Post University’ days on the other hand, my chutzpah in
social gatherings is on the rise and my readings on the social
barometer are soaring to an unimaginable degree! There is a
reason behind this.
Here goes my hypothesis. Once you study the social
sciences you are irreversibly changed as a human being. For
one, you have now begun to see the world, not as a happy
collection of human beings, animals, trees, birds, but a grand
arena of conflict and struggles. The voices in your head have
only become louder, not to mention more eloquent.
So are there any sure signs that one should look out for to
confirm one’s status as a true blue social science student?
Well, look out for these ….
• When ‘epistemology’ and ‘ontology’ roll out of your
tongue as naturally as ‘ma’ and ‘pa’ without the words
turning you into a scared puppy.
• When you start swearing that every chap in a Maruti
Alto upwards is an ‘oppressor’ – if he is unlucky even a
‘capitalist’! Ah if only Marx lived to see this day.
• When you are constantly admonished by your husband
for using words longer than five letters.
• When the word ‘power’ no longer means a switch and a
bulb, but something that sends chills down your spine.
• When Schools are no longer innocent places with the
happy cries of children on slides and jungle gyms – they
are sites of “social and political struggles”. No wonder my
son hated school in his early years!
• When good old ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ becomes an
evil chant because it is ‘behavioristic’. Darn Skinner!
• No talk on education and schooling is complete without
multiple mentions of ‘Vygotsky’, ‘constructivism’ and
‘pedagogy’. Think what this can do to your hapless
neighbor who has come to you for simple advice on a
new school.
• When any talk around you is a ‘discourse’ and not just
plain chatter, and you know that your conversations with
your children sound more and more like a discourse
rather than informal ramblings.
• I start looking at my neighbor’s kitty party not as a hot
bed of building gossip but “socio-cultural” constructivism.
The list is endless and my self-esteem high. Throw me a
“de-ontology” or “teleology” in my face and see if I blink! And
you must have your favorites too?
YOU KNOW YOU ARE A SOCIAL SCIENTIST WHEN…
(CAUTION: TO BE
READ WITH TONGUE
FIRMLY IN CHEEK)
Preethy Rao, M.A. Education, ’12 – ’14
ABIDING STRINGSOUR MUSICAL JOURNEY
Azim Premji University has given us the beautiful
space to live our journey as two individuals who
find our sense of belonging in the strumming
of the guitar and the dance of the bow. The
first week of unfamiliarity rendered our existence as that of
individuals exploring identities through the vision that brought
us here. The guitar’s strumming, which was the first to begin,
never imagined that a day would come when its rhythm,
which sounded a little incomplete, would be accompanied
by a flow of notes so beautiful that it would create an abiding
journey. Outside the realm of structured and composed
music, the advent of violin-guitar duets opened a new world
of soulful, original music!
When we played our first duet, people cried – some for
the love of music, some remembering their loved ones
and some simply because they wanted to surrender to this
beautiful song – our very first song together – Tu hi re. The
everyday wish to play new songs, both Indian and Western,
brought us together as musical partners. We treasure our
first performance on Independence Day, where Ritika’s jovial
dhol, the guitar and violin moved the University family to sing
together. Soon, each day ended with a long jamming session,
Fridays became the music day of the week and every event
at the University welcomed our performance. Playing for the
Ejipura slum demolition was one of those times when our love
for the spirit of the University was reinforced. Playing during
our field immersion in Satwas, for the homeless in Ejipura,
and celebrating Unmukt to the first Convocation, the launch
of a book on Benares, and the first Curiosity Conference, we
have had the honour of traveling across various themes.
Very rarely do people from diverse cultures and regions meet
in a space where they unite through music. When we situate
our musical story in the larger context, we realise that the
opportunities defined by the love for something are limitless.
Some made revelatory statements that we will always fondly
remember, some have watched us from a distance, some
think we are crazy, and we love it all! A special friendship has
been established with the University guards who make song
and also ask us why we haven’t played when we are busy
in the academic rigour! A Facebook post by our friend says,
“Strum away as they talk jobs. Bravo! Keep it this way you
two.” We sincerely thank each one of you for the friendship,
respect and blessings.
- Ritu Gopal and Shahzeb Yamin, M.A. Development ’12 - ’14
K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
26 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 27
- Sriram Kumar V, M.A. Education, ’13 – ’15
July 2013 – I was back as a student in a formal
classroom setup after several years. The average
age of more than half of my fellow classmates was
less than half of my chronological age. It was very
refreshing to be around young minds. I had no option but to
put in a lot of hard work to be able to match the learning pace
of the young and energetic crowd around me.
But wait… here comes Philosophy! Any amount of hard work
doesn’t seem to work. And reading over and over was very
useful, except that it confused me even more!
One fine day, I decided to go about it differently. I stopped
reading Philosophy and started asking the most famous
questions asked by Philosophers - ‘What do you mean?’,
‘How do you know?’ and ‘What is presupposed?’ (Thanks to
Cornel Hamm and Prakash Iyer!)
‘What do you mean?’ - I asked a cashier in a departmental
store when he asked me to pay for the groceries I purchased.
He, of course, responded with a mad look!
My second victim was a bus conductor. ‘How do you know?’
– I asked him when he told me to pay Rs 18/- for the ticket to
my destination. He thought I did not understand Kannada. He
asked another person to translate the sentence in English.
Amused by the reactions, I finally ended up paying the
amount he asked.
It came to a point where I started asking these questions to
almost everyone.
I used to help my wife in her domestic chores at home earlier
(prior to joining University). But with hundreds of pages to
read, write and read/write more every week, I invariably
stopped helping my wife at home. One Sunday morning, my
wife asked me to do some useful work at home – here goes
the conversation between my wife (W) and me.
W – What are you doing? Why don’t you clean the house today?
Me - What do you mean? (Haha! – I got my victim for today)
W – I mean, you need to clean the house so that I can do the cooking in the meantime. You have stopped doing any work at home nowadays.
ME – How do you know?
W – Everyone knows… Now start cleaning. Otherwise, I will not cook for you today!
ME – What is presupposed? I mean… what are your
assumptions?
W – What happened to you? I am assuming that you do not want to starve for the whole day... Do you?
I guess this was enough for me to pull my socks up, clean the
house and stop philosophizing, at least at home. I became a
victim to my own philosophical endeavour.
But I still keep posing my favourite questions once in a while
to anyone I meet on the way… And I am eager to meet you,
dear reader. ☺
Hello, is anyone out there?
WHAT DO YOU MEAN? AND THE LAST TIME
Comic by: Asif Akhtar
What happens when a working woman decides
to quit her job, take a sabbatical and pursue
further education at Azim Premji University?
She gets messed up! Like me.
I had switched over fields from Homeopathic Clinical practice
to classrooms and training. While the ‘Dr.’ prefix to my name
gave me credibility among the audience in my workshops,
I felt incomplete about the fact that I talk about a subject
(Education & Parenting) out of my passion and not out of
command over the subject.
I came to Azim Premji University to learn about Education.
I was prepared to pick up books again, read and work on
assignments and deadlines. What I had not anticipated
was how these various discourses on Education would
fundamentally alter the way I look at the subject, my
surroundings and life.
Did I ace all my subjects? Was I successful in all the field
work / practicum work? Was I able to articulate my learnings
well and produce great reports? Well, maybe not! But I
definitely had a gala time doing was breaking my barriers.
Interacting with fecund minds in this learning space, that have
worked at the grass root level, struggled, failed, experienced
the tyranny of the education system, and tried something
new, gave me an altered perspective and courage.
I became mindful of the social inequalities of caste, class and
gender around me. I stopped keeping separate utensils for
my house help at home. She now shares the vessels used
by us in the house. This small step was a symbolic way of
me breaking the caste, class barrier; a barrier which I was
unknowingly, unquestioningly reinforcing and reproducing.
The birth of my niece was a great joy to my parents. As
grandparents, they were even happier because my sister
in law had given birth to a fair, beautiful girl. Before taking
the course on Gender studies I would have never even
questioned this line of thinking, but now I chose to disagree
with their thoughts and vehemently made myself heard
regarding the same. My family went through initial shock at
the way I was reacting to their view that a woman has a lot
more to her identity than being ‘fair and beautiful’.
Apart from gaining a fresh outlook towards life, I also did
some crazy things that I never thought I would do. In these
two years, I have travelled to the interiors of my country,
experiencing people, places and education in spaces other
than the urban. I have travelled in the general class
compartment of our quintessential Indian railways train and
interacted, played antakshari and dumb charades with co
passengers and had the time of my life in doing so. I have
participated in a flash mob that happened at the University,
attended courses on film appreciation and fallen in love with
the power of the visual medium.
I have also closely interacted with some of the most amazing
set of people who have been my classmates for the past 2
years – all coming from various parts of the country. I have
sung, danced, participated in drama and experienced life like
never before.
People who knew me before I became a part of the University
family now find me a little crazy, weird and radical. My parents
think that I have gotten messed up and a little too opinionated
for their comfort. For me, this messing up has done me a
great deal of good. Slowly I have discovered my wings and I
am flying… a little more every day!
And as the tag line of a famous commercial goes …. “daag acche hain!” Such I shall say is my mess up. ☺
MY TRYST WITHEDUCATION AT AZIM PREMJI UNIVERSITY
-Shruti Mahesh, M.A. Education, ’12 – ’14
Comic by: Asif Akhtar
K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
28 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 29
I did all my schooling in a government school located in
a slum of a second tier city. As a child born in the 80’s, I
was fascinated with the growing technical advancement in
my surroundings. The opportunity to see this technology
was rare as the transistors, televisions and, in some cases,
electric lights were mostly owned by the economically well
to do persons in the locality. During my 10th grade, one of
my relatives bought a film camera when he was touring my
city. That was when I decided that I wished to work behind
the camera. As a literature student I enjoyed working with
children and would write drama scripts for them. We staged
these plays during the weekends and after school. While
screening movies in the slum area, I used the digital camera,
Laptop and LCD projector.
During our Sociology of Education course here at the Azim
Premji University, our professors told us that we would need
to shoot a short research film as a part of our course. We
were preparing ourselves with the sociological theories and
were exposed to using visual tools in research. We studied
visual media created on varying topics, shot in different
styles in different contexts. We faced a lot of problems with
permissions to use cameras in the school, had difficulty
with using technology and conducting research at schools
itself, whilst we were in the field. Discussing these issues in
class and in the hostels amongst classmates brought some
shocking and a few really funny stories to light. The post
production work was harder than the shooting itself and each
group found its own way of working around it. Our group spent
a whole day on preliminary editing. Dealing with software that
was new to us, net book hang ups and conflicting ideas at the
editing table added drama to the situation. The last two days
before screening were highlighted by final rush and frantic
calls and text messages calling for group work. Those who
couldn’t help with technology, motivated friends by bringing
cookies and cool drinks to those who worked.
We used some film clips to emphasize our ideas. Every time
we thought of an edit, new ideas would keep popping up.
We did a preliminary individual screening with students of
our batch to get some feedback on the film before the final
screening. Many of our fellow-students gave us insightful
feedback that we incorporated into our project. We (Aarusha,
Saleem, Hamsa, Siddharth and Mohanty), as a student
group, planned a surprise recognition for all the hard workers
who carried out the commendable group work. We made a
two minute clip on everyone in the class as a group and the
work they did through the first semester during their weekly
practicum. We created the ambience of a film screening for
all our in-house film makers. While we were having pop-
corn and chips through the screening of our assessment
component, our batch mates were writing their test. This is
one of the very few universities (known to me) which allows
the faculty the freedom to choose any form of assessment
for their students. We really enjoyed the visual journey with
our professors. And this semester too, we are again at it. The
journey continues as we plan to shoot a film for an Open
Course at the University.
PAPER TO VISUALS – A JOURNEY OF A CLASS OF FILM MAKERS AT AZIM PREMJI UNIVERSITY
- Thamarai Selvan K., M.A. Education,’13 – ’15
We all know that our time-table has a specially
marked day in the middle of the week called
the ‘Practicum Wednesday’. It’s the day you
step out of the University campus into the
real, so called “practical” world. It is the day you experiment,
explore and experience what great theorists have said. But is
it only what you study in classrooms that you see during your
practicums or is there more to it?
During the first semester, my practicum visits were to the
same school. My group observed the students and teachers,
interviewed them and the Principal, carried out Piagetian
tasks, etc. The second semester was all about visiting
different school settings. We went to a whole range of schools,
from international to migrant schools, from a disciplined army
school to an alternative one, from a low income school to the
one with students from high socio-economic backgrounds.
Then came third and fourth semester practicums, which were
based on electives. This meant visiting even more different
spaces such Karnataka State Commission for Protection of
Child Rights to RTE Grievance Redressal Cell for a subject,
a special school and teacher learning centers. All in all, the
practicums gave us perspectives on various Institutions,
which added to our learnings, at times, beyond what our
classroom could provide.
Yet, as I had mentioned earlier there were other sides to
these practicum Wednesdays. These were the days that
saved us from being stuck at the college cafeteria and
allowed us to taste food at new places; exploring areas such
as Koramangala, M.G. Road and Indiranagar. They were
extra special also because one could watch a movie for INR
99 at PVR in Forum Mall (fitting a student’s budget perfectly!).
Sometimes, my incentive to go for a practicum would be
eating yummy idly with chutney at a tapir (small street shop)
near the school and sometimes shopping with friends. There
was ‘motivation’ for every one of those days. These were
bonding times amongst groups too!
When I look back at these practicum days, certain images
flash in my mind. I remember moments when I saw a child
working as a rag-picker or an old man sleeping on the
footpath, women sweeping streets, college students doing
last minute reading for their exams in the bus, a new person
in town asking every bus at Singasandra bus-stop about its
route points, the conductor haggling over change, arguing
with the auto-wala for using his meter and not asking for
extra, the smile of the old lady selling idlis from a tin box, the
colorful lamps being sold on M.G. road pavement, traffic and
the noise it makes, walking by the slums where a woman sat
outside her make-shift hut applying oil on a little girl’s hair,
small temples and the sound of bells….
These practicums were my escape from a mundane life into
the ‘actual’ Bangalore. These were the days that introduced
me to the city of Bengaluru and left me with glimpses that I
will carry back with me when I leave in a few days.
WHAT PRACTICUMS WERE ACTUALLY ABOUT- Ritika Chawla, M.A. Education, ’12 – ’14
Comic by: Asif Akhtar
K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4
33K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 430 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y
It was not that I was living away from my family for the
first time. But this time I did not expect that it would be life
threatening experience. I had no idea what trouble I was
getting into when I picked up the chit which determined my
future with my roomies in my hostel at Aarusha (2D). When
I reached the hostel a short haired girl was standing before
me filling in her entries. Little did I know that she would be
the one to make my life a little like hell in 2D. When I entered
the room I saw that both the corner beds were occupied. I
had to take the centre bed without knowing that it was soon
going to be turned into a common table by both my roomies.
Since I met my first roommate, I was wondering what kind of
a girl the other one would be, looking at the barrage of bags
she had left behind to welcome us with, in the room, in her
absence.
But when trouble has to come it will not come from just
one direction. The first day at college was the registration
day. Instead of filling in our registration, my roommate and I
were exploring Hosur road and Singasandra. My bob haired
roomie had forgotten her photographs in the hostel which
were required for our registration process. In the evening, our
“miss absent” roomie reached the hostel with all the stuff she
could POSSIBLY pack before leaving Hyderabad. It was like
she had made all arrangements to stay in the hostel for ever.
So this was how we got our first ever tuck shop at Aarusha
and that too exclusively for 2D mates.
The story was just unfolding; more surprise elements were
to be discovered in our flat of eight girls. On the second day,
as I was leaving the college premises, sitting in the bus,
waiting for it to leave, another bob head entered the picture.
I asked her which flat she had gotten, eager to find out
whether she belonged to 2D or not. Alas, she did not. But I
had never imagined that she would eventually end up being
our fourth roommate as she became good friends with us and
practically lived with us in our flat thereafter! Then, there were
the two intruders as well in our room who lived in the kitchen
room of our flat - the delhi girls: one with the longest legs
and tresses I have seen and the other seemingly “reserved”
roommate whose “damaka” we were yet to discover. The
list does not end here-we have three more to go, without
whom the flavours of our room do not add up to be what it is
today. The girls next door included a girl from Raipur with a
whacky sense of humour, our Marathi mulgi who is the queen
of jhatakas and the “dominos fanatic” as we called the last
one. So this is what living with eight girls looks like. Initially I
was not very happy with the idea of living with so many girls.
What I had never imagined was how much fun it would turn
out to be.
Putting a bunch of girls to live with each other bonded us
together as a community - a family, as I think was its purpose.
The beginnings of change in our lives had begun the day we
entered University as well as started living at the hostels. All
of us, I mean the University family come from various regions,
with diverse cultures. This hostel setting has blessed us with
the opportunity to understand each other for who we are,
where we come from, what our culture may be and so forth.
Most importantly it has helped me respect people for who
they are. Coming from the hills in the Shivaliks, I now realize
what a lungi means for the south Indians and recognize that
all south Indians are not madrasis.
And how can I leave out the field immersion trip - another
chance for us to extend our University family network. It was
an opportunity for all of us to understand the importance of
teamwork and friendship. We were a group of ten students;
a very diverse set of people from different backgrounds. We
completed our field immersion together in fifteen days. The
trip enriched us with experiences which we have come to
cherish dearly. The relations which we nurtured are bonds
which I think will stay with me for a life-time.
I want to express through this article my sincere gratitude
to the University and the faculty for making our space here
at the University so beautiful - where we prepare to bring
about change in our lives first and then society. I believe this
to be just a start to a new beginning, like a trailer of a larger
unknown picture of change which is about to be released
through all of us!
Watch out for it ☺
A LIFE AWAY FROM MY HOME….- Mamta Kandari, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15
In Verse
A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4 3332
BEING A HOMOSEXUAL
e® vt+he çseth fo’ofo|ky; e sa dSlk eglwl djrk gw¡ ] ;s dfork ml ls tqM+s esjs Hkko O;ä djrh gSA
rqe vkSj e® & vfHkUu] vVwV] fujkdkj tSls xaxks=h ls çLQqfVr xaxk dh /kkj tSls Lokfr dh ,d cw¡nAA
rqe vkSj e® & fudV~LFk] vkfyaxuc)] çTofyr tSls gou dh vfXu vkSj ?k`r tSls lw;Z] jf’e vkSj O;kseAA
rqe vkSj e® & ,d nwljs ls ifjiw.kZ tSls ’kfDr ls f’ko vkSj f’ko ls ’kfDr tSls Hkä Hkxoku ls vkSj Hkxoku Hkä ls ifjiw.kZAA
rqe vkSj e® & vuUr] vfopy] vfojy tSls varfj{k] tSls ijczã tSls e®] tSls rqeAA
rqe vkSj e® & lqxfU/kr vkSj çdkf’kr tSls nks çseh g`n;] tSls lw;Z dh jf’e ls jks’ku Hkhxh gqbZ olqa/kjkAA
rqe vkSj e® & u Hkwr u Hkfo";] cl orZeku rqe vkSj e® & fuLokFkZ] fu"diV] ’kk’or rqe vkSj e® & ,d vk’kk] ,d cfynku] ,d fo’oklAA
rqe vkSj e® g® vkRek vkSj ijekRek rqe vkSj e® nwj gksdj Hkh ikl g® rqe vkSj e® g`n; vkSj 'okl g® rqEgkjh vkSj esjh fu;fr ,d gS lksvge lksvge rRoefl rRoeflA
e® gh rqe gks vkSj rqe gh e® gw¡AA
rqe v©j e®
- Varun Sharma, M.A. Education
’13 – ’15
lj ij gkFk /kjs lc ;gk¡ cSBs gq,]
dksbZ usVcqd e− vk¡[k− tek,] rks gSa dqN fdrkck− ls f?kjs gq,]
’kkar ekg©y e−] ePNjk− fd lulukgV tSls ,d /kqu gS fc[ksjrhA
gks jgh gS tokc&loky dh tqxycUnh]
VeZ isij ls tqM+h fdrkc− [ksyrh yqDdk&fNIihA
dgha fl;klh nk¡o&i−p ij fy[kuk gS fucU/k]
dgha yo vkSj beks’ku dk fn[kykuk gS lEcU/k-
gj jkst 10 cts rd le; fcrkuk gS ;gÈ]
vaxzsth eSa bl txg dks dgrs g® ßykbczsjhÞ---
vt+he çseth ;wfuoflZVh dh ykbczsjh
& uhrw cgy, M.A. Education’13 – ’15
In Verse
‘Unnatural’ or ‘natural’, I won’t ponder Would not desecrate by such a slander
It wasn’t shame that I intended to fetch, But only I out of this distress
Ostracization, and Banishment being the order of the day Acceptance of oneself was the contest ahead
Thy Soul decried on giving up on it The trauma of acceptance wondered if it was all worth it.
I confronted myself with questions many; it was the journey I had never undertaken ahead
What sense would life make otherwise, if being you was such a crime, I had to commit.
- Vaishali Rawat, M.A. Development
’13 – ’15
TODAY’S LESSON PLAN
rh---
/kkor gksrks] pkyr gksrks] osGsP;k xqykeklkj[kk] d’kh vlsy ßrhÞ\ vkyk ç’u eukr xzh"e lfj lkj[kk] cgq/kk--- vlsy ,dk fuokar fu’py {k.kklkj[kh rh-- vlsy] va/kkjkyk phj.kkÚ;k fnO;k lkj[kh rh---xqykc [kwi ikfgys vu Qqyka ekxs yiysys dkVsgh] ikfgys] ’kCnka e/kY;k [kksV~;k vRRkjkaps lkBsgh] i.k] vlsy Qqyka e/kwu mey.kkÚ;k xa/kk lkj[kh rh] vlsy] va/kkjkyk phj.kkÚ;k fnO;k lkj[kh rh---fDy"V pØO;qgkryk grcy vfHkeU;q eh] vtqZukus os/kysyk--- lqanj ehuk{k eh] vkf.k okLrokrY;k —".kkP;k jk/kslkj[kh rh] vlsy] va/kkjkyk phj.kkÚ;k fnO;k lkj[kh rh---pqdyks gj ,dnk--- uh[kG.kkÚ;k rkÚ;kph osG] dk rek ckGxq !! gk rj lkoY;kapk [ksG dkj.k] vlsy lqnSokus fpac ,d jk’khle rh vlsy] va/kkjkyk phj.kkÚ;k fnO;k lkj[kh rh---va/kkjkryk fnok rq>k {k.kk {k.kkyk gjrks;] dqBs vkgsl\ pkrd rq>k ikolkfouk txrks;] tk.krks--- ’kCnkauk u isyo.kkjh bZ’oj HkDrh rw
tk.krks--- va/kkjkyk phj.kkÚ;k fnO;k lkj[kh rh--- Rohan, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15
Sneha Sharma, M.A. Education, ’13 – ’15
lkxj dh ygjksa esa ,d NksVh lh cw¡n gw¡ e®gj cw¡n dh rjg dqN [kkl gw¡ e®
vdlj yksx ftls le> ugÈ ikrs,slk ,glkl gw¡ e®---
rwQku esa [kqn dks laHkkyrh gqbZ fc[kjrh lh bd cw¡n gw¡ e®
gj rwQku >sydj vkxs c<w¡ vius fny dh oks vkl gw¡ e®---
lkfgy ij igq¡p dj #duk eSa u pkgw¡ u;h eaft+y <w¡<+ ikÅ¡
oks ^dk’k* gw¡ e®---cgrh Bgjrh
bBykrh eqLdqjkrh tw>rh Vdjkrh
vkxs c<+rh tkrh bd NksVh lh cw¡n gw¡ e®
gj cw¡n dh rjg---dqN [kkl gw¡ e®---
,d cw¡n gw¡ e®
ejkBh dfork
دندرکیم هاگن ارمواکجنک ینامشچاب زورما سرد دنسرپ یم نم زا دیسریم رظن هب
تسیچ متشادرب ار یچگ هکت
"یگدنز" متشون هتخت یور ربتسا "یگدنز " زورما سرد دیسرپ تفر الاب یتسد
؟تشون نآ یور زا دیاب؟درک رب زا ار نآ دیاب
؟ دناوخ ار نآ دیابهریغو
مداد خساپ نمدینک میسرت میارب ار یگدنز
دینک شا هیساحمدیهد شحیضوت
دیشکب ار شا هشقندینک شلیلحت و هیزجت
دینک شمیسقت دینک شرورم
شدیربب هاگشیامزآ هبدینک شهاگن پوکسورکیم ریز
دینک شریسفتدینک شهاگن یداقتنا
دینک شا همزمزدینک شا هزمزم
دیریگب هزادناارنآدینک شا همجرت
دینک ربخ ارم دیدرک ادیپ یزیچ رگا ودن دنام تکاس همه
دوب سرد مامت نیا
نیملعم یمامت هب دوشیم میدقت رعش نیا.دیشخب انعم نم یگدنز هب اهنآ سرد هک نم
یجن هن ناجرم نیهش 2012-2014 شزومآ
ناتسودنه
(English translation overleaf)
A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4 3534
/kwi lqcg fd lsad jgk Fkk]
cPpksa dks Ldwy tc tkrs]
vk¡xu ls eSa ns[k jgk Fkk]
ihB is cLrk ykn pys gSa]
D;k ,sls Ldwy Hkys gSa-----\
NwV xbZ oks vêh&iêh]
NwVh nk¡r ls dkVh dêh]
yEcs psgjs ysdj tkrs]
’kke dks Fkd dj okil vkrs
fdl jLrs is vkt pys gSa]
D;k ,sls Ldwy Hkys gSa------\
lth est mBokyh Qêh]
fNVd xbZ iSjksa ls feêh]
[ksydwn ls g® drjkrs ]
gkseodZ dk [kkSQ fnykrs]
tkus ;s fdl vksj pys gSa]
D;k ,sls Ldwy Hkys gSa------\
vc Ldwy esa ekj ugÈ gS]
ij igys lk I;kj ugÈ gS]
jfookj dk fnu oks I;kjk]
vc igys lk ;kj ugÈ gS]
lqUnj cpiu jkSan pys gSa]
D;k ,sls Ldwy Hkys gSa------\
&vkfnR; dqekj xkoaMs] M.A. Development, ’13-’15
D;k ,sls Ldwy Hkys gSa-----\
This game of words,
You play with me.
These strings and strings of thoughts,
You bring to me.
Not sides but perspectives
Of coins, You show to me.
This game of life,
You play with me.
A covered vessel, You
bring to me.
Empty or filled,
Or
To fill or to not,
You do not tell me.
- Nanak Bhatia, M.A. Education
’13 – ’15
WORDS
- Rahul Bharadwaj M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15
vkt dqN tyrk NksM+ vk;k gw¡ ---
vkt dqN tyrk NksM+ vk;k gw¡ ---
tyrs g® gkM+ ek¡l ds cqr rks tysa
esjk D;k gS\ eSa rks lcls fj’rk rksM+ vk;k gw¡ --
vkt fQj dqN tyrk NksM+ vk;k gw¡ --
eq>s ;kn gS tc oks Hk;kud vkx yxh Fkh
u tkus dc dgk¡ dSls dksbZ fpaxkjh lqyxh Fkh
ns[krk gh jg x;k ml fpaxkjh dks rsjh VkV is--
tyrs rsjs vikfgt vCck dks vk¡xu dh [kkV is--
ml ekSr dh ftEesnkjh ls [kqn eq¡g eksM+ vk;k gw¡
vkt ’kk;n [kqn dks tyrk NksM+ vk;k gw¡ --
vkf[kj D;k Fkk ftlus eq>s tyk;k Fkk
;w¡ rks ,d vHks| lk nqxZ eSaus cuk;k Fkk
rw tyrk gS rks tys --rw dkSu lk viuk Fkk
--rw rks ijk;k Fkk
vkf[kj bUgh xQyrksa ls eSaus [kqn dks fj>k;k Fkk
vc rw ugha gS --
xyh esa lkbfdy dk iqjkuk Vk;j nkSM+krk rsjk csVk ugha gS
iqjkuh yky efLtn ls dksbZ uekt Hkh vc nsrk ugha gS
cl gS rks ?ku?kksj lUukVk gS] dk;jksa dh g¡lh gS
,d pyrh fQjrh ftUnk yk’k rsjh vEeh cph gS
vc rsjh ml xyh esa tkus ls Mjrk gw¡
vk¡[ks pkj u gks tk,¡ fdlh ls mEehn djrk gw¡
ij fdl fdl ls cpw¡xk\ mu Mjkous lk;ksa ls dc
rd eSa fNiw¡xk\
vkrs tkrs nj[rksa ds >qjeqBksa ls vkokt vkrh gS --
fd gj cstk¡ lh fn[krh bekjr iwNs tkrh gS
fd vkf[kj can D;ksa Fks rsjs ?kj ds lkjs nqvkjs
fd tc ek¡xh ’kj.k ml ftthfo"kk us vk¡py ilkjs
fd tSls ;K lk pyrk gks rsjs vareZu esa
rwus jä dh vkgqfr >ksadh ml gou esa !!
fd rsjs /keZ dks D;k lp esa Fkk [krjk ckyeu ls \\
mu uUgs ls gkFkksa ds f[kykSus] xqysyksa ;k dye ls
dHkh mldh tqck¡ rq>dks pkpk dg cqykrh Fkh
D;k yk;s gks esjh VkQh rqrykdj iwNs tkrh Fkh
bu lokyksa dk dksbZ mÙkj ugha vc lw>rk gS
fd vc ;s ’kh’k i’pkrki dh osnh ij >qdk gS
ftanxkuh dh cph gj lkal gj iy dh nqvk gS
ekSr tYnh ls u vk;s] bYrtk gS--
tykyr ls Hkjs lSykc lk thou
bd dkfry vkSj tkfye dh ;s gh ltk gSA
With curious eyes they were watching me
It seemed they were asking me
"What is today's lesson?"
I picked up a piece of chalk
Wrote on the board
“Zindagi”
Today’s lesson is “Zindagi”
A hand went up
Asked “Should we write it?”
Another asked “Should we memorize it?"
“Should we read it?”
And so on
I responded
Draw “Zindagi’’ for me
Calculate it
Explain it
Draw its map
Analyze it
Divide it
Review it
Take it to the lab
Look at it under a microscope
Interpret it
Critically examine it
Whisper it
Taste it
Measure it
Translate it
And if you find anything
Let me know.
All remained silent
This was the entire lesson.
(This poem is dedicated to all my teachers whose lessons enriched my life).
- Shahin Marjan Nanaje, M.A Education, ’12 – ’14
TODAY’S LESSON PLAN
A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4 3736
ମୁଁ ଗୋଟେ ରାସ୍ତା କଡର ମଣିଷ ମୋ ପାଇଁ ମୁଲ୍ୟହୀନ ଏଠି ସବୁ, ଏସି ରୁମ୍ ର ଶୀତଳତା, ବିଏମଡବ୍ଲୁର ସୁଖ, କଳା କୋଟର ଚମକ୍, ଆଉ ଜେତେ ସବୁ ଟଙ୍କାର ସେ ଭୋକ I
ସକାଳ ମୋ ଚାଲିଆସେ, ରାସ୍ତା କଡରେ, କେବେ ବୁଲା କୁକୁର, ତ କେବେ ମାଲିକ୍ ହିନ ଗୋରୁ ଗାଈଙ୍କ ସାଥିରେ I
ଆଉ ସନ୍ଧ୍ୟା ପୁଣି ଦେଖାଦିଏ ଅଧାଜଳା ସ୍ଟ୍ରୀଟ ଲାଇଟ, ଫେରାନ୍ତ ଧୁଁଆମୟ ମେସିନି ସମାନ ମଣିଷ ମୁହଁରେ, ଆଉ ସଜବାଜ ହେଇ ମାର୍କେଟ୍ ବାହାରୁଥିବା ଅର୍ଧନଗ୍ନ ଯୁବତୀର ଦେହଦେଇ I
କେବେ କେବେ ଅଧା ରାତିରେ ନିଦ ଭାଂଗୀଯାଏ କାହାର ଯନ୍ତ୍ରଣା ଶୁଣି, ବଂଚାଅ ବଂଚାଅ ଆଉ ଶେସ ନିସ୍ଵାଶର ହୃଦୟଫଟା ଚିତ୍କାରକୁ ଶୁଣି , କେବେ ଜିଏ ଖୁବ୍ ନିଜର ଥାଏ କାହାର, ଅଜି ହତ୍ୟା କରେ ସେ, କେବେ ଜିଏ ଗେରୁଆ ବସ୍ତ୍ରରେ ନିଜ ଚରିତ୍ରକୁ ଢାଙ୍କି ଥାଏ, ଆଜି ସିଏ ଏଠି ରୁପର ସୌଦାଗର, ଆଉ କେବେ ମା,ବାପା,ପ୍ରେମିକ ,
ଆଉ ହଜିଯାଉଥିବା ସମ୍ପର୍କର ଚିତ୍କାର I ଛାଡ ମୁଁ ବି କୋଉଗୋଟେ, ସମାଜ ସଂସ୍କାରକ, ଚରିତ୍ର ଆଉ ସତ ମିଛର ବିଚାରକ I
ଏଠି ସବୁ ମିଛ, ମିଛ ମୋର ସାଧୁତା, ମିଛ ମୋର ଦେଶପ୍ରେମ, ମିଛ ମୋର ଚରିତ୍ର, ଆଉ ଏକ ସୁନ୍ଦର ସମାଜ ପଇଁ ମୋ କଳ୍ପନାର ହସ୍ତରେଖା,
କାରଣ ମୁଁ ଗୋଟେ ରାସ୍ତା କଡର ମଣିଷ I
ଅମିତ୍ କୁମାର ଜେନା (ସ୍ନାତକୋତ୍ତର ,ବିକାଶ )
ମୁଁଗୋଟେରାସ୍ତାକଡରମଣିଷ A ROAD-SIDE MAN
I am a road side man;
everything is worthless for me.
The coolness of an AC room,
the happiness of a BMW,
all charming materialistic hunger is beyond my
horizons.
Here the morning comes.
Sometimes with street dogs;
and sometimes with wandering domestic cows.
The evening starts with the blinking of the street
lights as they struggle to light up.
I see the tired, stressed, so called “civilized man” in
his sedentary machines,
pretty-faced half-covered girls going to the market.
Meanwhile, a gasp wakes me up at midnight.
The shout is asking for help with one last breath,
I wonder, and wonder, and I murmur.
It wounds, cheats and kills one’s nearer and dearer
ones.
He, who was disguised, now reveals the truth.
I hear, a cry of a lost relationship,
of a lover, of a helpless father, a destitute;
I cover myself and sleep.
Let’s leave everything.
Why am I bothered?
I am not a social reformer!
I am not a judge!
Everything is foggy.
Everything is false,
my honesty,
My patriotism,
My character. false! false!
All my painting of a better society is false.
Because I am a road-side man.
- Amit Kumar Jena,
M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15
(Here’s the translation of the above Oriya poem into English)
They say I am what I am,
Am I?
Do I have my own identity?
They say I am like them,
Am I?
Do I have access to the same school where my brother is studying?
They say I am equal to them,
Am I?
Do I have the right to choose what I want from my life?
They say I am a free bird
Am I?
Do I have a right to choose my career where they don’t ask me to be a teacher as it is a safe, day job?
Why do they do the “saying” every-time?
Why don’t I?
When will they stop considering me as a separate entity?
I have so many questions but who will answer
I have so many things to say but who will listen
I am not happy the way I am
But
I am compromising the way I am.
- Minakshi Singh M.A. Education
’12 – ’14
WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A GIRL
gtkjksa psgjs fn[krs Fks ml ,d psgjs esa
oks tks Fkk VªkfQd flXuy ij [kM+k
my>h gqbZ Hkkouk,¡ fn[krh FkÈ mldh vk¡[kksa esa
ftudh xgjkbZ esa jkst >k¡d dj Hkh dksbZ tku uk ldk mudh dgkuh
ns[krh FkÈ oks vk¡[ksa xqtjrh gqbZ dkjkas dks
vkSj mue− lokj psgjksa dks ns[k dj uk tkus dSls fVd tkrh FkÈ ,d Hkko ij
oks psgjk Fkk ;k Fkh\
VªSfQd pyrk #drk Fkk vk¡[ksa Hkh pyrh :drh jgrh FkÈ
ml psgjs ds iSj tc tokc ns nsrs Fks rks cSB tk;k djrs Fks flXuy ds fdukjs
rc mldh jh<+ dh gìh loky iwNrh Fkh
dgÈ cnnqvk yx rks uk tk;sxh\
dsuk gksYdj
M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15
NksVh lh nqfu;k gS esjh] ij [okc cM+s l;kus gSa]
frrfy;ksa lh jaxr ysdj] eq>dks nkSM+ yxkus gSa --
D;ksa pyw¡ mu jkgksa is] ftuds 'khy iqjkus gSa]
eq>s rks vius eu ds&gh] dqN u, Mxj cukus gSa
dne dne gS fxjrk gw¡] vkSj [kqn [kM+k gks tkrk gw¡]
vius vki dks ubZ ubZ eqf’dyksa esa vktekrk gw¡]
vktk eqf’dysa eq>s vktek] eq>s Hkh rks rq>s
vktekus gSa-]
NksVh lh nqfu;k gS esjh] ij [okc cM+s l;kus gSa]
NksVs NksVs ix gSa esjs] ij Å¡ph esjh mM+kusa gSa]
uhy xxu dks yka?k tkš] ioZr is p<+ tkuk gS
pk¡n fd lSj rqEgsa djkÅ¡] geus dc ls Bkuk gS
NksVh lh nqfu;k gS esjh] ij [okc cM+s l;kus gSa]
liuksa fd uxjh gS esjh] ge gSa ;gk¡ ds jktdqekj]
u dksbZ geis gqed pyk;s] u pykus nsaxs vc ;s
vR;kpkj]
lkjs vR;kpkj] vc eq>s fBdkus yxkus gSa]
NksVh lh nqfu;k gS esjh] ij [okc cM+s l;kus gSa]
/kjrh ek¡ dh xksn esa [ksys] vc blds dtZ pqdkus gSa
cw¡n cw¡n ygw dh viuh] blds fy, cgkuk gS]
lquk dgha gS LoxZ clk rks gS] tehu is mrkj ykuk gS
NksVh lh nqfu;k gS esjh] ij [okc cM+s l;kus gSaA
’kf’k Hkw"k.k dqekj] M.A. Development,
’12 – ’14
NksVh lh nqfu;k esjh
A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4 3938
My eyes, eager sparrows flitter across the twilight
plains.
My feet, mossy stones, sink into the sleepy carpet
of green.
My hands, free, leafless branches lay open to the
flowing chill.
My nails, crescent moons eclipse the waning light.
My hair, untamed waves weave into the blanket of
day.
And there from the distant darkness of shrubs,
Hallowed in a turbid shroud of cloud, her form
emerges:
Crisp contours of frame and face,
Eyes sharp deep wells, tresses wild flowing gown,
Near footless she glides our separating plain.
Vision aligned, piercing, our bough arms entwine,
Spindle fingers trace physiques,
Cruising the wind’s grace, our lips elope, soft,
intense, fervent,
Our mouths cauldrons brim with elixir, leaves
parched throats
To trickle into the other, we inhale across breaths.
The trumpets of cicadas and the harps of croaks
Vain silence the sin of our pacing hearts
With the winged nocturnal as our witness
And the shadows as our aisle,
We stand betrothed by the moonlight.
lM+d ds fdukjs
rEcqvksa esa
pwYgs ty jgs Fks] /kqWavk mB jgk Fkk
cPps pwYgs dks ?ksj dj cSBs gq, Fks
viuh ykj ls thHk dks lkus gq,
vpkud fQj tksj dh ckfj’k gksrh gS
cjru ikuh ij rSjus yxrs g®
/kjrh dh I;kl rks cq> tkrh gS
ij dqN cq> ugh ikrk
cl lqyxrk jgrk gSA
I;kl
THE SPELL
Raging young urgencies of disconnect;
Flushed and gulping in the depths of intolerance;
Braised and walked over by convenience.
Shoe bit, blinded and screamed at by hatred;
The one thing that once was is no longer sacred.
The sadness of indifference a syndrome suffered;
Everyday a new voice being smothered.
Pain of looking through;
Of all that can be looked into.
Judgment a door bell away;
Why have I started to look at you this way?
Human in spirit, spirit of man;
You, my brother, can do more than you think you
can.
Trials and failures everybody’s midday meal;
Why then are we so fearful to feel?
Bitter thoughts and words a dangerous drink;
Sip and slip over the ship to sink.
Sustenance of reality a cheat away;
Why have I started to look at you this way?
Understanding that you are me and I am you;
And all our follies are probably true.
Polish our lenses to embrace a calm;
To all our anger it proves a balm.
Walk off the steam that engulfs your mind;
So much easier to just be kind.
Renovate our shortcomings to start afresh;
Each day we straighten our mess.
A life of hope and one of dismay;
Why have I started to look at you this way?
As a gift today there is compassion;
Looking at you that old way is out of fashion.
More than a flame amidst black;
This experience puts me on track.
Like smooth fresh renewed floors;
This renovated new thought opens new doors.
Arms wide open to all the conflict;
Put an end to the pain we inflict.
My foe, my friend;
Together in one direction we sway
And look at each other a whole new way.
RENOVATED THOUGHT
- Ronika George, M.A. Development ’13 – ’15
- Ghanshyam Kumar, M.A Development ’12 – ’14
- Suchaita Tenneti , M.A. Education’13 – ’15
- Sanket Karkare M.A Education
’13 – ’15
okV
;s dfork L=h thou ds fofHkUu dkys igyqvksa
dks efLr"d iVy ij j[kdj fy[kh x;h gS
vkSj iwjs lekt dks ç’u ds ?ksjs esa [kM+k djrh
gSA
D;ksa j[kw¡ eSa djokpkSFk
;w¡ gh ugha iwNk gS eSaus
fnu ?kfM+;k¡ lfn;k¡ chrh gSa
fo’okl tfur fd D;ksa j[kw¡ eSa djokpkSFk\
D;ksa j[kw¡ eSa djokpkSFkA
vkt tls ikÅy ek>s iMys v‚fQl ckgsj
,dk vJwuh xky vksyk dsyk
ºzn; glwu Eg.kkys rs fnol xsys
rq>k lq[kkpk dkG rks vkrk xsyk
vkuanh ek.kwl osG dk foljrks\
fnol dls xsys letyks eh ukgh
,dk fe=k is{kk tkLr dks.kh feGkys
LoIup vkgs dk gs dkgh\
lxGk ,dVsi.kk nwj dsyk
dso<k lxGk vkuan fnyk
rqeP;k f’kok; eu ykxr ukgh
dk gks] vlk dk =kl fnyk\
rqeph Qkjp lo; >kyh vkgs
eqGhp eu ukgh ykxr rqeP;kiklwu nwj
,d fnol ukgh HksV.kkj vls okVys
rj eu jMsy vJwaps iwj
dk vlk tknwVks.kk dsyk \
rqEgh ek>s gks.kkj ukgh eyk BkÅd
vkgSanket Karkare
lk{kjrk fe’ku] gqbZ eSa lk{kj
thou us fd;k eq>s f’kf{kr
lc #dk vpkud]
ek¡ dks j[kokuk Fkk djokpkSFk\
vf/kd bfrgkl dk Kku ugha
ij bruh Hkh uknku ugha
lquk gS lhrk th Hkh j[krh FkÈ djokpkSFk\
Qfyr gqvk ij djokpkSFk
bd /kksch dh maxyh ls
rt fn;k x;k oks djokpkSFk
D;ksa j[kw¡ eSa djokpkSFk\
pyks NksM+ks mudks vc
lkeus okyh eathr
lgrh gS fu;fer fi;k dh çhr
rks cksyks D;ksa j[kw¡ eSa djokpkSFk\
bd vQljkuk nksLr
og Hkh j[krh gS djokpkSFk
vksg ! dy gks x;h mldh ekSr
ngst us j[kk djokpkSFk gS tokc ! D;ksa j[kw¡ djok-
pkSFk\
cgqr gqvk] [kqn is vkrh gw¡
djokpkSFk fd dgkuh lqukrh gw¡
pk¡n ns[k lj?kh [kkrh gw¡
vkSj ml jkr Hkh oSokfgd cykRdkj djokrh gw¡
blfy, j[krh gw¡ djokpkSFk\
crkvks] D;ksa j[kw¡ eSa djokpkSFk\
683,000 rapes occur every year, which equals 56,916 per month and 1,871 per day, 78 per hour and 1-3 per
minute-
Varun Sharma M.A. Education
’13 – ’15
A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4 4140
Yes! I confess my love-
For the river, and the breeze,
For the courtyard and the trees;
Be it a spider or be it a snake,
Be it a scorpion for heaven’s sake;
I loved to be among all of these.
For the hill top that touches
the skies,
And the smiles that stretch for
miles;
For the debate and the
discussions,
Sprinkled with honest
confessions;
I loved to be among all
of these.
For the road without trails,
And all the travelling travails;
For the shrubs and the grasses,
And clouds which overhead passes;
I was blessed to be among these.
For the home without clocks,
And doors without locks;
For the dung smeared walls,
And the distant morning calls;
I was blessed to be among these.
I LOVED TO BE AMONG THESE!
(In fond memories of our field visit to Sarang hills in Attapadi, Kerala!)
THE LITTLE RED DOT…
No, I don’t have fancy words
To describe what I have done..
Sitting, gazing at the sun
I am wondering, wondering how come!
It grew and just grew
Even before I knew
The little red dot on his white shirt...
I stood still and watched
His peaceful expression
And the distant look..
Wondering what it really took
A swish of knife and there it was!
The red dot was no longer just a dot
A smudge or more of a haphazard line
Oh it looks a lot like mine
Why is he not yelling now?
I want to hear him shout
Oh say again what a whore I am!
Eagerly waiting for another fight
A few more thrashes a few more lines
I am done with all excuses of mine
Where is the anger now?
I want to hear him abuse and shout!
Oh last night was a ruthless one
He came home drunk and spilled some wine
Gave me a few thrashes and sat to dine
And my love for him grew and grew
Sarcastic I am to be true!
Did I tell you about the crime?
When he kicked me just a few times!
The water just spilled on the ground
And my little one left me without a sound!
Seven months I had carried around,
Within my womb safe and sound!
Who knew he was destined to leave me?
Just because there was no liquor left in the pantry!
- Janakiram, M.A. Development ’13 – ’15
“Sorry darling! It was an accident
For everything I repent
It isn’t the end you know,”
He said “We can always try again”
Again?Did he say again!
Sleeping under him all over again!
Rubbed by him yes again!
Raped by him for sure again!
A little one I did want
Who would mend this wedding knot!
A little one I did want
Who would save me from this rot!
A little one I did want
Who would keep him away from the liquor pot!
A little one I did want
Who would bring happiness, laughter and what not!
But why are we still on the same topic
The little one had left me with his mighty kick!
The little dot of red is now no more a haphazard line
His shirt is now no longer white..
His peaceful expression
And the distant look, totally calm and quiet
I wondered what it really took.
A swish of knife and there it was…
As the clock struck 7, there he was
“Whore” he called me “come here now
Get my liquor and food right here! Right now!
Then unbuckle my belt and lie around
I will give you what you really want”
Perplexed I stood hearing him shout
“Whore! You listening?” he called on and on
With each word that he spoke
Something within me just broke
Chains of fear, love and loath
His thorny touch, thrash and kiss
Is this all what my marriage really is?
And while I stood thinking of the git
With a louder “whore” a punch came following it
The plates, the spoon and the knife
Fell on the heap by my side
Kick after kick. Blow after blow,
They kept coming in a row!
The choice was now simple and clear
Being liberated or dying of fear
It felt like as if the time was right
With trembling hands, I clutched the knife
A swish of hand and he fell down with his beloved wife!
The eyes were drowned in shock and loath,
Oh I so loved the mixture of both!
With all the strength I flipped around,
Sat over him as if to make love..
His muscles relaxed and he smiled
The knife went down his heart in a while
Perplexed with pain he called my name
“Whore I am, now don’t be lame!”
The little dot of red is now no more a haphazard line
His shirt is now no longer white..
His peaceful expression
And the distant look,
A swish of knife is all that it took!
- Sudarshana Sivaram M.A Development
’13 – ’15
My law and governance practicum took me to the Bangalore Central Jail. I wrote this poem, overwhelmed by emotion after meeting a woman clad in a white sari who was convicted for the murder of her husband. Just as the protagonist of this poem, the same sorry state of affairs exist in the jails across the country, where a majority of women are serving a sentence for killing their husbands.
Doesn’t our law need to be more responsive? What’s the point in simply following the rule book thoughtlessly?
I seek justice.
A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4 4342
This Valentine’s Day,
I fell in love again.
I have not fallen in love many times before.
I do not fall or rise too quickly.
I savour the succour – the saccharine, forget-all-
else nectar.
I savour the sickly sucker of aftermath that drains
me like a virus.
The sucker lets me know what I have left.
But this Valentine’s Day,
I fell in love again.
I have remained in a general state of hope.
I bury my head to hopelessness I can do nothing
about.
Stickly toddlers on the road.
I see the three of them stop
in between all the cars-
Babies, surrounded by Automatons -
with their balloons for sale,
with her hula hoop in hand,
they lean on a car’s back tire to chat -
a car that will speed off when the light turns green.
I know they will not get hurt.
I look at them from the side view mirror
And see them rapt in conversation
They have forgotten the little girl in the car ahead -
looking longingly at the mini mouse balloon.
They are impoverishedly adept
Against the thugs individually parcelled in the traffic.
I know they will not get hurt.
For the moment, their life-threatening urgency,
is to Talk and Laugh.
But this Valentine’s Day,
I fell in love again.
A session on inclusion in education,
Opening up perspective,
Remembering what the Constitution stands for,
“Justice, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,”
CRY HOPE Feel it with me,
“Justice, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity”.
The teachers tell me their experiences:
They have given their love, their toil, their sweat, their
cheer
Intervention, intervention and hours of attempting,
Trying, trying, trying, trying
The doctors don’t care
The stunted are still
The teachers are shackled by the won’t of Will
‘We Will help,’ they keep hearing.
No one comes.
Some children stay in school, with hopes of nothing.
No hopes on them, no hope for them.
Will,
The flickering lights in their eyes
be snuffed out,
One by one?
Or Will
I not let it -
One by one!
This Valentine’s Day,
I fell in love again.
I saw hopelessness.
I did not bury my head.
I cried for all the lives lost while living.
I did not cry for only the children,
I did not cry for only the women,
I did not cry for only my tribesmen,
I did not cry for only my countrymen,
I did not cry for what I am able,
I cried, instead, for everything human.
These are my wounds of Real,
These are my welts of Encounter
But these are,
Also,
My hot tears of Hope.
- Sneha Subramaniam M.A. Education, ’11 – ’13
(Karvan’s first Editor)
The red buildings between the lush green trees that I saw
on the Vikasana website kept flashing in my mind as I went
on during the long drive to Vikasana the school. I looked
forward to seeing the bulbuls, kingfishers, woodpeckers and
monkeys in the school campus. I was eager to see the school
which taught its children pottery, how to repair buildings, how
to grow vegetables and how to collect firewood.
When I got down at the Thataguni bus stop, I was received
by one of the teachers from the school, who was already
there waiting for me. We chatted all the way to the school
happily. She pointed to a small white building next to an
empty ground and said, “That’s our new building”. I was
shocked.
Later, I learnt that the school had lost its entire property
including many structures constructed by the children over
the last 35 years to a person who promised to help them.
Coming from families of low socio-economic backgrounds
and unhealthy environments, for many children, the school
was their second, or probably even first, home. The kids
would generally spend most of their time in school, going
back home only for a few hours to meet their parents.
The school is now run in a small building which was offered
to them by two sisters. The new school premises cannot
house the children. Except for a small patch of land where
they grow around ten plants, there is no space for trees or
animals. The children share their playground with a nearby
temple.
I could feel the immense pride in Malathiakka’s voice when
she said, “All my students stood for me. All of them fought
for me.” But she was extremely upset that the children are
no longer getting the rich lessons that they were used to and
have lost out on the rich learning that they were previously
exposed to. I too had expected to learn a lot from these
lessons that the school was imparting to its children. But
within the first few days of my visit to the school, I realized
that there was much more to learn from the school than I
had imagined. The spirit of the school and the motivation to
keep it going was alive in each member of the school. Every
single person cherished the memories of the old school, but
none saw its loss as a reason to sit back. The spirit of the
school and the motivation to keep it going was alive in each
member of the school.
Malathiakka, in spite of her age, does not leave any stone
unturned to establish resources for the school. With the
help of volunteers who work in close connection with the
school, multiple excursions are arranged for the children
both inside and outside Bangalore. Academic and gardening
classes are arranged for at least a few students in one of
the volunteer’s house. There are some volunteers who visit
the school to teach the children academic subjects. Each
of these volunteers are given the flexibility to use their own
pedagogical methods, thus giving the children exposure
to multiple ways of learning. The teachers of the school
understand not only the need for academic and vocational
learning, but also their personal problems of 30 students.
And finally, I would like to speak about the children. All the
lessons I learnt on child development and identity formation
in the last two years have not yet helped me figure out how
these little children were able to deal with such a huge
blow with so much sophistication. They not only coped with
the situation bravely but have not given up and continue
to be hopeful. They did not lose the positive attitude they
had developed because of their school. During my 6-week
engagement with the school, I saw them preparing for a new
fight – a poster campaign requesting the devotees of the
temple to keep their playground clean.
Each day at the school taught me lessons on motivation,
determination, courage, trust and confidence, leaving me
inspired. I wait to go back to the school not just to learn more
but to receive the immense love and affection each member
of the school gave me. The learning and the affectionate
relationships fostered with the members of the school make
me want to go back to Vikasana.
MY EXPERIENCE WITH VIKASANA- Samvartika Nalam, M.A Education, ’12 – ’14
A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4 4544
It has been four months since I first used the phrase “I am
a teacher,” while responding to the classic questions like
“What do you do for a living?” It felt awkward then, and it
still feels awkward now. It is not easy to entitle oneself as a
‘teacher’; the term carries the weight of responsibility and a
pre-assigned value of goodness and nobility. When I decided
I wanted to work with children, what excited me was the idea
of being responsible for another individual’s learning and
growth. It filled me with a sense of being a giver. Well, that
was rather narcissistic, wasn’t it? Four months on, that is
something that has definitely gone for a toss!
Four months into being a teacher, it is that same idea that
weighs me down. The idea of being responsible for another
individual; being responsible for the time a child spends in
school, which accounts for a large part of his/her childhood.
And to think I stand a chance to make that a memorable
experience that the child could look back on and hold on
to, fills me with excitement on one hand while leaving me
overwhelmed on the other.
It is a fight. Many days, it is a fight with oneself; a fight to hold
back and not impose oneself on the very impressionable
child. Being a teacher, does not entitle one to guide another’s
interests and learning. It only allows one to offer one’s own
experiences and knowledge for the child to play around with,
gaining some and giving some, but moving on from there.
The teacher is not the start or the end of any exploration;
the teacher is but one of the many experiences in the
exploration. Often, I forget this. I struggle, every moment as
a teacher to remind myself of this belief and stand by it; else,
I become a gatekeeper to another’s experiences. And that is
no good, isn’t it?
Some days I think I make it worthwhile. The school
experience gains meaning. One cannot be contained in
another’s ideas; one can only negotiate with the other’s
idea and take off from there. A child cannot be contained in
the plan of a teacher. This is what I have come to believe
and yet struggle to put into practise. My being as a teacher
counts when that allows me to explore with a child, what he/
she is stimulated by; that shared moment when what I have
to offer fits in sync with the child to propel him to discover
further, that is the part of being a teacher that I hold close
and cherish.
Having said this, I would like to share a recent experience
that left me in wonderment. One morning, the children got
to school early like most other days. My co-teacher and I
decided to let them be by themselves for a while before
starting the day as usual. But this day turned out to be a
big happy surprise for us! As we walked towards class, we
could hear a buzz of movement, chatter and giggles. All the
children were busy cleaning up the space outside our class.
Some plucked out the weeds, some removed waste articles,
some swept, and some cleaned the provisional pavement of
broken stones. We were stunned and couldn’t supress the
lurking smile on both of our faces! The children then painted
the slabs of broken stone that make for a path with red mud
and made a rangoli at the entrance. The children now own
their classroom space. They attach themselves to it enough
to want to work with, change it and maintain it. We have
decided to start a garden of sorts in the space they have
cleared out.
I was so proud of my children and it felt so good! This is how
I feel about being a teacher so far and I’m excited about my
journey onwards.
ON BEING A TEACHER …
(This shared experience of being a teacher comes from a first time school teacher. She recently graduated from the University and this is
her first formal employment as a student facilitator/ teacher. She works in an NGO run school, Namma Nalanda Vidyapeetha, in Kundapura,
Karnataka. The school is in its second year of operations. They have about 90 children and 9 teachers currently. 70% of the children live on
campus and come with troubled experiences; some having lost their families quite early in life. These are mostly children from migrant families.
The remaining 30% of children are day scholars who come from homes in Kundapura.)
- Ankita Rajashekharan, M.A. Education, ’11 – ’13
In the summer of 2013, I came to Bangalore to begin my field
research. During this time, I was given the opportunity to
teach at Azim Premji University. I was nervous as I had never
taught in the Indian context. I was born and brought up in
the United States, and have always interacted with students
in that context.
The students I have gotten a chance to know well have
been engaged and enthusiastic to do something different.
They have been willing to critically engage with my ideas and
have pushed me to learn as much as I have taught them.
This is one thing I hope my students take away from our
interactions: there is nothing better than deconstructing the
teacher-student hierarchy and finding ways in which we can
learn from and teach one another. You all have a ton to learn,
but you also have a lot you can contribute. The two are not
mutually exclusive.
Start reflecting critically on our own experiences
Part of what I wanted students to realize is that issues of
inequality don’t just exist ‘out there’ i.e. somewhere that does
not pertain to each and everyone of us. Rather, power and
hierarchy exist in our social positions, our interactions, and
our beliefs. Beginning to reflect upon our own positions, I
think, is the first step in being politically and ethically engaged
intellectuals.
I won’t pretend that this is easy or that we (or I) have been
truly successful. Its scary to begin to realize our own faults
and how unstable all that we’ve learned really is. We need to
think more critically about our engagements with the world, for
example, in how we speak to our ‘help’ or how we characterize
communities different from our own. I would continue to
suggest that you try to break your own linguistic, caste, and
class comfort zones to befriend and learn from those who
are different from yourselves. The best way to challenge and
develop your own beliefs is to be around people who you
respect and have differing views from your own.
Take the practicum seriously
One of the things that really appealed to me about Azim
Premji University was the opportunity that you all have to
immerse yourself in practical work, in schools, with NGOs,
etc. It’s a privilege to have such easy access to sites that you
all may never have been exposed to and I hope you all take
every opportunity to engage and learn.
A lot of you say you’re interested in changing the educational
system, in being a ‘change agent’ and creating something
better. Actually doing what you’ve said you want to do is
hard. It requires showing up when you’re tired, deciding to
read when you want to watch TV or go out, and challenging
your friends who might say things you don’t agree with when
it’d be much easier to just remain silent. (It doesn’t mean you
can’t have fun. There is lots of room to have crazy, weird, life-
changing experiences. Most of them involve listening to and
befriending those whose lives are different from our own).
It also means taking every opportunity to be in the field, ask
questions, and squeeze every last bit of learning you can
out of these opportunities. Language is not a barrier nor is
experience nor is access nor is time. Those of you I’ve been
most impressed by have taken on multiple tasks, said yes to
tons of opportunities, and then followed through, knowing that
the process of actually doing, and really working hard, can’t
be replaced. I’ve loved being on the bus with all of you, while
you’re tired as hell, but chatting away about what you’ve
seen, what you’re doing, what you’re learning.
My point here is that complaining about what is missing is
easy. Working within those limitations and making an exciting
space for yourself is a lot harder and also way more fun. If
someone gives you a ‘no’, find someone else who will say
‘yes’. It’s scary to decide to do this, because you actually
have to try, have to commit completely to a process, and you
might still fail.
REFLECTIONS ON TEACHING AT AZIM PREMJI UNIVERSITY- Arjun Shankar, Sociology of Education
A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4 4746
Once upon a time, there was a girl who was a part of the sea.
She floated on it, bobbing up and down on the gentle swell
of the waves, going wherever the current took her. She knew
nothing except vast water and open sky, and the occasional
aquatic passerby. To her, stillness was a gentle, swaying
quality, and warmth the rich waters of the Gulf Stream. Home
was everywhere, the vastness of the ocean matching the
vastness of her soul.
Then one day, a sudden storm cast her upon a lonely beach,
and for the first time, she felt solid ground. The sensation was
novel, and she felt off balance, like she was falling and flying
at the same time. She waited for the ground to carry her in
drifts like the ocean did, but it remained solid. The sun rose,
and she saw birds, and trees, and crabs, and crackled bits of
shell. Then she saw someone approaching.
He was a boy who was a part of the land. He lived by the
shore of the sea, drawn by its beauty, by its vastness and
ever-changing form and colors. The sea had brought him
gifts before - a large conch shell, pink and webbed with
translucent white veins, pieces of glass, old driftwood that he
carved into tables and chairs, and once, a glass bottle with a
letter inside, that had crumbled in his hand after he read the
opening words “If you are reading”.
A red rose, a string of white jasmines, the fragrant water lilies, flamboyant gulmohars, a pristine lotus and your favourite
crossandra flowers. These were the flowers I picked as I walked around in search of flowers for you.
I placed the red rose in the centre, and the crossandras and jasmines around the rose. The lotus took its place at the edge and
gulmohars and water lilies were sprinkled around.
Happy Birthday, Amma. I love you and this is the best I could do to match the rose that you used to pin to the blouse of your
saree, the garland of jasmines and crossandras that you kept in your hair, the water lily perfume you loved to wear, the lotus
coloured saree I always picture you in and the bunch of gulmohars I always got you. You are still alive in my heart.
A FRAGRANT MEMORY
A SEA STORY
- Sai Sushma Karra, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15
- Sanjana Shelar, M.A. Development, ’12 – ’14
When he saw the girl, he stopped and stared. He walked up
to her slowly, cautiously, and asked her name, and where she
came from. She did not understand him. He saw her strange
beauty, saw that she looked half-dead, and decided that she
was the sea’s gift to him. So he picked her up, pulled her
from the water’s edge, and took her with him to his house on
the shore.
She slowly began to understand him, and to understand
how to live and move on the land. She was intrigued and
challenged by simple things like how to lift an arm, how to put
one foot in front of another, how to eat a coconut split in half.
She stayed because of that. But there was another thing that
kept her there, too, something she had only acknowledged
to herself. The boy’s touch, from the first moment he’d
placed his fingers on her wrist to check her pulse, was unlike
anything she'd felt before. It felt like coming to a home she’d
never even realized she missed. It felt more real, more alive,
than anything she’d ever experienced. The land seemed to
offer her a similar embrace. The feeling of solidity, of safety,
that she found on land was a sensation that felt so new, yet
so undeniably right. It was as though she had been waiting
for it all her life.
But she missed the waves, the sensation of drifting, of moving
wherever the tides willed her. She began to grow restless. So
she told the boy she wanted to see the world, and the boy
told her to go in peace, and to return to him someday. He told
her he wouldn’t forget.
She left, and saw the world for a time. But nowhere did she
find the feeling of home that she had had with the boy in
his house on the beach. So she went back, traveling slowly,
slightly dejectedly. Being away from the sea drained her.
The boy, meanwhile, felt for the first time an absence in his
life. The sea was no longer his friend, because it was the
one who threatened to take the girl away. The girl was no
longer there, and he came to be afraid, he came to resent her
absence and her need to drift. He began to think that he had
been foolhardy in believing that the girl from the sea would
ever stay by his side. The pain of being separated from her
was too sharp, and so he began to close himself off from her.
More and more, he spent days in the nearest town, where
he sold his tables and chairs outside a small cafe. Soon, he
met a girl who worked there, and whose aroma of cinnamon,
fresh-baked bread, and dusty coffee grounds seemed to
plant itself in the back of his mind. He still thought of the girl
from the sea every day, but in his mind, she began to change
into an exotic creature whom he could never fully know, from
the friend and confidante who had lain in his arms listening to
his stories and poems and innermost thoughts.
When she returned to him, he was stricken by guilt, and by
fear, and by the sharp longing he felt in her presence. She
saw the turmoil in his eyes, and asked him what was wrong.
He told her that he could not have her close to him any
more, that it would be better if she moved away, built her
own hut, perhaps, found her own secluded beach. She could
not understand the change in him, until one day she met the
girl from the cafe, who had come to collect shells to line the
tables. They talked, and they became friends. One day, the
girl from the cafe told her, haltingly, about the boy.
The girl from the sea felt the earth fall silent, and then slowly,
infinitesimally, it began to move. Up and down, up and down.
The girl looked at her friend to see if she felt it, too, but the
girl from the cafe seemed not to notice. The girl from the sea
understood then that this was the sea’s way of calling to her,
and the land’s way of telling her that it was time to leave. So
she left, walking into the sea after her friend had left, feeling
the strange familiarity of its waves undulating around her
body.
She drifted, waiting for the familiar vastness and peace, but
it never quite reached her. She yearned for solid land, yet
longed for the freedom of the ocean. She missed the boy.
But this was her life now, she knew. Every once in a while,
the waves would bring her a drifting leaf, a piece of straw,
a fragment of a butterfly’s wings, and she would feel once
again the fierce embrace of the land - and of the boy. Then
she cried until the salt of her eyes mixed with the salt of the
sea and she felt a part of the waves again.
Comic by: Asif Akhtar
Love movies and start making them, please
The most fun I have is challenging the ‘text-centric’ bias that
we generally have in universities. You’ve been socialized to
think that learning in a classroom involves books, essays,
and tests. That’s something I’ve tried hard to challenge.
We all go home and watch movies, TV shows, and whatever
we find on YouTube. That’s great! But we can’t just do this
passively, as if what is happening on the screen isn’t laced
with political, moral, and ethical statements. We have to train
ourselves to watch these media products critically and realize
what they are messaging us. When we watch a Fair & Lovely
advertisement, we have to be willing to recognize what is
being implied and what is being reinforced about beauty and
skin color. We also have to be willing to decide that this is not
okay and make a change in how we ourselves speak and act
in the world.
The flip side of this is we have to be willing to use these
technologies ourselves. If we are going to reach people,
one of the best ways is through images. Given the linguistic
diversity of a country like India, showing rather than telling is
one of our most useful tools. I’ve learned so much about film
and photography from all of you, and what I would really ask
of you all is to challenge anyone who says you can’t create
intellectually rigorous products that are films or multimedia
based. Even I’m from a generation that grew up before
computers ruled the world, and I still have an irrational love of
books. You all should love books too, but you can push totally
new methods for telling stories and producing research. I
really hope you do.
Can’t wait to see all of you again soon!
A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4 4948
It was a bright sunny day; the sun was shining with all its
might. The birds flew all around in search of food while
chirping and tweeting their coarse tunes. A cuckoo flew past
the garden and sat on the tree stealthily watching a nest
which lay near to her. All this was happening while I sat on
the steps of my porch, staring at the emptiness lost in deep
thought.
It all began about three years back, when I accidently found
the documents in my mother’s cupboard. I was looking for
my vaccination card schedule since our teacher had asked
us to bring it to school as part of our science project. While
looking for my vaccination schedule I stumbled across an
old file which had a blue tape across it. It looked old and yet
untouched. Having little control over my curiosity, I quickly got
a pair of scissors, made a little slit at one corner of the file
and quickly opened it. What I saw in that file, was something
I never thought I’d ever see or dream of. There lay a stack
of papers, with a lot of legal terms and signatures. I couldn’t
understand what they were, but I was determined to find
out what they meant since they looked important. I flipped
through the pages skimming over the contents of the page
quietly trying to make sense of what those typed words on the
pages meant. I saw my name on one of the pages, and then
I stopped on that page and read it carefully.
I once read somewhere that words can kill as good as a gun,
and that line made so much sense to me at that moment.
I couldn’t believe what I was reading. It all slowly began to
make sense. Hoping that it was just a bad dream, I pinched
myself half hoping I’d wake up and sigh in relief that it was all
but a bad dream. Alas! That didn’t happen; I could very much
feel the pinch and see my skin turning red and swelling up
thanks to the pinch. The papers said I was adopted. But how
could that be possible? People often said I had my father’s
nose, then how could I be adopted? I had my mother’s
temper, that can’t be a coincidence! Or could it? It just didn’t
make sense anymore. From confusion, betrayal, anger to
sorrow, I was feeling every grim emotion possible.
Three years flew by and I still can’t accept the shocking
revelation I discovered. Time and again, I subtly hint at my
parents, trying to nudge them to confess to me about the
adoption. It never happened; they never confessed to me
and chose to keep me in the dark, thinking I didn’t know
anything about it. But as time passed by, I started wondering
about who I was? Who my parents were? Where they were?
Did they miss me? Did they even think of me? Or was I just
another unwanted child walking the face of this earth. I don’t
have the answers to my questions. But I always thought for
several hours about the answers to these questions. Often
weaving stories, mostly happy ones, but occasionally when
I am sad, a really sad one about my past. But at the end of
the day, they were just a fragment of my imagination, not the
truth. But these stories often comforted my troubled mind. At
least I could end the stories the way I wanted to and steer
them just the way I’d like it. Someday I’ll know the truth, which
may be better and more comforting than the stories that I had
in my head or may be a sad tragic one which I won’t be able
to endure.
Just then, my mother called out for me. Running inside I
found my father holding a cake and all my friends singing
“Happy Birthday” at the top of their lungs. My mother and
father buried me in a huge hug while kissing me and wishing
me birthday wishes.
The cuckoo, which sat next to a nest stealthily watching over
it, laid its egg while singing a sweet melody and then quickly
flew away before the crows arrived.
CUCKOO’S BIRTHDAY-Sai Sushma Karra, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15
Comic by: Asif Akhtar
- By Ruchi Mittal, M.A.Education, ’13 – ’15
An Attempt at fiction writing
“Hey, can I ask you something?”
He looked up from the book he was reading, surprised to see
her looking a little apprehensive. Putting the book down, he
leaned forward on the table. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“So we’ve been really good friends for a while, and I’ve been
meaning to ask you this, but I wasn’t sure if I should because
I don’t want things to get awkward and all, but I feel like I
really need to know the answer,” she said in a single breath.
“Whoa! What’s going on?” He asked, feeling a little
apprehensive himself, wondering for a brief moment if he
was about to hear some crazy declaration of love.
“Are you gay?”
He stared at her in silence. His expression showed that this
was clearly not the question he was expecting, but mixed in
with the incredulity there seemed to be a bit of relief as well.
“Why do you ask?” He said eventually, and she felt herself
relax a little. At least there wasn’t an angry outburst.
“Just curious.”
He looked at her seriously for a few seconds, as though
searching for something in her gaze, and she tried her best
not to hide anything in her expression.
“Yeah, I am,” he said eventually.
She closed her eyes and let out the deep breath that she had
been holding in. “Oh thank god! This would have been such
an awkward conversation otherwise!” she said, and he burst
out laughing.
“That’s your only reaction?!” he laughed out, relaxing visibly
himself.
She opened her eyes to look directly at him. “Well, what do
you want me to say? I mean, you’re Muslim. You’re Pakistani.
And you’re gay. You’re basically screwed, dude,” she said in
the most matter-of-fact tone she could muster, as they both
doubled over in laughter, ignoring the curious gazes of the
other customers at the coffee shop.
**********
“Thanks,” he said, pulling her out of her day dream. That
familiar half-smile on her face clearly meant that she had
been lost in some old memories.
“Any time,” she said, smiling back. “Although I suppose you
already knew that, considering you showed up here at 3 a.m.”
He chuckled softly, and saw her face fill with a sense of
relief. They sat there, smiling quietly at each other for a few
seconds. He could feel the warmth of the coffee seeping
through him, and the familiar smell of caffeine slowly brought
his senses back to life. Just sitting there with the hot cup in
his hands, he could feel his thoughts returning back to him.
“Want to talk about it?”
His smile dropped instantly, as the question brought with it
a crashing sense of reality. He wanted to tell her, but didn’t
know where to begin.
INSTANT COFFEE
52 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y
Azim Premji UniversityPixel Park, B Block, PESSE Campus,Electronics City, Hosur Road (Beside NICE Road)Bangalore 560100
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