Teach India
This morning I paid a visit to the State Bank of India, Deonar branch. I still remember spending 3 – 4 hrs there during my last visit to simply open a PPF account. Today I had just been there to deposit some cash and I didn’t expect to go through the same ordeal again.
As I picked up the deposit slip and started filling in the details, I noticed that a there was an unusually large crowd in the bank. I also happened to notice that the majority were students. I was just about done filling one foil, when I was approached in my left side by an elderly man and his son. The man was dressed in a somewhat worn out creamish pathani and adorned a whitish headgear normally seen on any muslim man’s head. His son, meanwhile, was about 5’6”, lean and quiet and wore a simple unbranded jeans and a light blue tee.
The old man pointed my attention to a form he was holding and explained that it was for his sons’ admission to a commerce college. They had come to deposit cash here so that the bank could issue them a draft, which was needed by that college to grant him admission. It even justified that presence of the student crowd in the branch.
He requested me to fill up the form for him. I was quite happy to help a poor, uneducated man in getting admission for his son. It would make my day and so I told him I would fill the form up for him as soon as I am done filling up the second foil on my deposit slip.
After I was done with my form, I took his form in my hand and read it. It was quite easy and didn’t have many details which needed to be entered. The old man had made my job easier by bringing in a sample form filled by someone else with all the college details filled. Just as I was about to start, I thought of something. What I did next, can be said, was directly inspired from the movie – ‘Swades’, which I simply adore for plenty of reasons. Here is what I did:
Me: (looking at the old man’s son) “Tumhara naam kya hain?”
Son: “Samsher Quereshi”
Me: “English aati hain”
Son: “haan”
Me: “Toh fir yeh form tun kyun nahi bhar rahe ho?”
Son: “Pata nahi, kabhi bhara nahi hain…..dar lagta hain!!”
Me: “Dar kis baat ka….chalo, tum hi bharo form. Mein tumhe guide karta hoon”
I gave him my pen and asked him to read the form first. Then I asked him to start filling in the details slowly, one at a time.
During this time, the old man gave me a stare. Initially he might have wondered why I was refusing to fill the form for him. But later he gave me a smile. I guess, he must have realized what I was trying to do. He started speaking to me. He told me how his son hadn’t scored a great deal and somehow managed to get admission to this college after lot of running around. He also went on to mention that the fees - Rs 5500 was unaffordable for him, but he had to arrange it from somewhere to ensure that his son gets the education that ‘he’ missed out on.
As I picked up the deposit slip and started filling in the details, I noticed that a there was an unusually large crowd in the bank. I also happened to notice that the majority were students. I was just about done filling one foil, when I was approached in my left side by an elderly man and his son. The man was dressed in a somewhat worn out creamish pathani and adorned a whitish headgear normally seen on any muslim man’s head. His son, meanwhile, was about 5’6”, lean and quiet and wore a simple unbranded jeans and a light blue tee.
The old man pointed my attention to a form he was holding and explained that it was for his sons’ admission to a commerce college. They had come to deposit cash here so that the bank could issue them a draft, which was needed by that college to grant him admission. It even justified that presence of the student crowd in the branch.
He requested me to fill up the form for him. I was quite happy to help a poor, uneducated man in getting admission for his son. It would make my day and so I told him I would fill the form up for him as soon as I am done filling up the second foil on my deposit slip.
After I was done with my form, I took his form in my hand and read it. It was quite easy and didn’t have many details which needed to be entered. The old man had made my job easier by bringing in a sample form filled by someone else with all the college details filled. Just as I was about to start, I thought of something. What I did next, can be said, was directly inspired from the movie – ‘Swades’, which I simply adore for plenty of reasons. Here is what I did:
Me: (looking at the old man’s son) “Tumhara naam kya hain?”
Son: “Samsher Quereshi”
Me: “English aati hain”
Son: “haan”
Me: “Toh fir yeh form tun kyun nahi bhar rahe ho?”
Son: “Pata nahi, kabhi bhara nahi hain…..dar lagta hain!!”
Me: “Dar kis baat ka….chalo, tum hi bharo form. Mein tumhe guide karta hoon”
I gave him my pen and asked him to read the form first. Then I asked him to start filling in the details slowly, one at a time.
During this time, the old man gave me a stare. Initially he might have wondered why I was refusing to fill the form for him. But later he gave me a smile. I guess, he must have realized what I was trying to do. He started speaking to me. He told me how his son hadn’t scored a great deal and somehow managed to get admission to this college after lot of running around. He also went on to mention that the fees - Rs 5500 was unaffordable for him, but he had to arrange it from somewhere to ensure that his son gets the education that ‘he’ missed out on.
During our conversation, I kept prompting his son – this is where you enter the name of the college, this is where you write your address, this is where you sign. In the end, my heart went out for the old man. He was a complete stranger to me, but for some reason he found solace in telling me how he felt for his son. He had set an ideal example that I one day hope to follow myself.
Once the son was done filling in the form, I told him to take a token from the machine and wait his turn at the counter. I had to go my own way and before departing, I told the old man:
Me: “Chacha, bura mat man na ki maine form nahi bhara. Leking agar yeh saal me bharta, toh agle saal kaun aata form bharne ko??”
Old Man: “Nahi saab, apne sahi kiya….mere bete ko seekhna hi hoga”
He said that and left. Being referred to as ‘saab’ or ‘sir’, by an older man isn’t exactly music to my ears. But I knew he said that out of respect for what I had done. I had taught his son to be independent!!
I hoped with all my heart that Samsher completes his education and fulfills his fathers’ dreams, if not his own.
My thoughts went back to a ‘Times of India’ campaign that I had recently read about – TEACH INDIA. After all this, I don’t feel that my job is done. Infact I realized that my job, .....‘OUR JOB’, had just started!!!!!
Once the son was done filling in the form, I told him to take a token from the machine and wait his turn at the counter. I had to go my own way and before departing, I told the old man:
Me: “Chacha, bura mat man na ki maine form nahi bhara. Leking agar yeh saal me bharta, toh agle saal kaun aata form bharne ko??”
Old Man: “Nahi saab, apne sahi kiya….mere bete ko seekhna hi hoga”
He said that and left. Being referred to as ‘saab’ or ‘sir’, by an older man isn’t exactly music to my ears. But I knew he said that out of respect for what I had done. I had taught his son to be independent!!
I hoped with all my heart that Samsher completes his education and fulfills his fathers’ dreams, if not his own.
My thoughts went back to a ‘Times of India’ campaign that I had recently read about – TEACH INDIA. After all this, I don’t feel that my job is done. Infact I realized that my job, .....‘OUR JOB’, had just started!!!!!
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