TINGU

 As usual, I got the first standard. Since it had been three years since I came to this school, I had become well acquainted with the village. There were about 65 to 68 students. Since it is the first standard, songs, chats, and telling stories are the only things that work in the beginning. When the children realized that their teacher was not even angry, they also became brave. Activities such as sitting very close, asking a lot of questions, chatting a lot, and even telling the essence of the heart are going on in full swing. We used to sing it in school by preparing three or four lines for each student in the class. All the children were happy. Whose name is being used in the poem to mean shy, laugh, and be happy? Among the children was a small boy with a very short stature; his name was Ajay ,.His favorite place is to lean on the table, which is very close to me. These songs were composed by him.

"There was a tingu, a small tingu.
Tingu used to jump. 
He started jumping, 
When jumping,he fell down.
start crying a lot, 
mother came running,
fed him sweets, 
and Tingu is laughing. "
. As soon as the song started, Tingu started shying, and it was very funny. The confusion, the chatter, the chattering like that—I didn't know how the time passed.
Tingu also loves to study. I continued to write while Tingu sat in his favorite spot right next to my feet and studied quietly. It is not known when this quiet, shy Tingu became a lover. One day, I went because I was called to the office. Children were also given such instructions. It took some time because of the important work. When I come to the class after finishing work, there will be a war in the class. A huge mess. Some children are rolling on the window, some on the floor, some fighting, and some on each other. Igot scared. If anyone is injured, repeatedly saying "sit quietly in your seat" has no effect. Finally, when everyone was patted on the back, the class quieted down, and everyone sat down. Of course, after a while, I and the children also forgot about this incident. Let's start chatting again. After school, all the children said goodbye and left. From the second day, however, I started to feel that something was wrong. I didn't know what it was. The space near my feet started to feel empty. Never staying at home, Tingu started avoiding going to school. I was surprised. Tingu's mother was a divorced woman. Tingu is her only son. She wants him to learn and become a well-educated person. I don't understand Tingu's behavior. He used to get abdominal pain right when he wanted to come to school; sometimes he would even pee in his shorts. Both me and his mother are worried. One day, Tingu was brought to school by holding his hand. Mother stood near the gate and asked her to go home. After a while, Tingu got pee into shorts. It was decided not to send him home today. He was taken to the toilet, his pants were washed, he was cleaned, and he was also seated in the classroom. Dry the shorts at the gate. In rural areas, it is good that there is no rule that children should be fully clothed. So no one laughed at Tingu. Class work started like every day. Meanwhile, the shorts were brought to dry, and Tingya put them on. But today Tingya sat in school full time. Started coming to the same school again. I spent most of the time observing Tingu. I did not know why he was behaving like this. He never stopped sitting near me. Tingu was scared even when I came near. I also felt this was a puzzle and needed to be solved. Talking to his mother, I came to know that his father used to beat her a lot. And all of them were watching, so if someone hit anyone, it would have a huge impact. I had a sudden realization. When patted was given to all the children, Tingu was given it unknowingly. I don't see Tingu sitting by the table quietly studying. Tingu was under pressure due to my mistake. I was very sorry. Now it is more important to bring Tingu closer than before. And it took me almost a year to complete this work. After going to the second grade, the second semester Tingu was back to normal.At that time, I slapped everyone, but Tingu was deeply wounded. Tingu was a good example of how our behavior affects the inner minds of children. The beating by his father was deeply etched in Tingu's mind, and my slaps re-inflamed the wound. But now, no matter how chaotic the class is, I close my eyes and recite the numbers from one to ten. Until then, the children had automatically gone to the place. Tingu taught me that playing can calm the class. (Year 2007/8)

self respect

 When did man begin to lie? If we search into this, we can conclude that'man, when he became aware of fear, he began to lie'. Children lie out of fear of punishment. Once children realize that they will not be physically punished if they make a mistake, children are less likely to lie. That's why I always try to inculcate the belief in my classes that even if a mistake is made, you will not be punished. Happily, I have always been successful in this. I make it a rule in every school to admit mistakes and say sorry. And we all implemented it. A quarrel between two friends used to be resolved as an apology.Once, Anil came late after a lunch break. I got angry and asked him why he was late. "Ma'am, I was watching TV; I didn't know it was late," Anil said innocently. "To say that you don't feel ashamed"?" I said it angrily.

Ma'am, you told me to tell the truth," Anil replied defiantly. "I was unresponsive! Admitting mistakes and saying sorry were strictly followed in my class. Therefore, there were no quarrels in the class. Only Anil was too afraid to say sorry. Especially to Nandini. Most of the time, after school, the children used to play on the school premises. 

Once after school, the children started playing cricket. While playing, the ball hit them while a madam was passing by. Madam screamed loudly at Atul. A small baby was near the madman. As a mother, it is natural for her to be worried. Atul came closer and said sorry, madam. It's happening by mistake. Madam got angry with Atul again. But now Atul has lost his patience. "Madam, I am saying sorry to you, and you are not listening to me. You are making me angry again.?You are madam; do you like to behave like this?” Atul's face was red with anger. Even though he admitted the mistake and said sorry, he could not bear this madam shouting at him. I was on leave that day. Sir came home. Looking at me, he said, "What exactly do you teach children?" "What happened?" I asked. "Today you wanted to see Atul's form at school." Self-respect was evident in his face and words". Sir told me the whole incident in detail. I was very surprised. Even today, my students always argue with me if they do not agree on a point. But today, it proved that they can assert their opinion even outside. . The next day, I went to school. After going to class, the children told me the essence. Fear was visible on Atul's face. The fear was that madam would be angry with me. "Madame, even if I said sorry, that madam was saying anything to me. Stupid, mindless. That's why I got angry." He started saying it with his head down. I held him close and moved my hand over his head. "Like this, always show self-respect. Chanting:That's all I could say. Tears welled up in my eyes. Tribal children are very timid. Urban, educated people are oppressed by them. When they see strangers or new people, they are bashful. So I appreciated Atul's behavior. My colleagues never liked my behavior. But it was perfect for me. A student should never be a victim of a teacher's go. So the children had full freedom to debate and oppose me. It is very important for everyone to be able to express their opinion strongly. Our generation did not have this freedom. We suffered very bad consequences. Once I was chatting with the kids and asked, "Hey, all the teachers talk to their students in your dialect. I only speak Marathi. Does it bother you? I don't know Ahirani., but then I will learn it." "Madam, nobody speaks Marathi in our house or in the street. If you don't speak this Marathi, then how will we learn Marathi?" Kunal was saying, "Madam, if we can't speak Marathi, then everyone will laugh at us in high school." Anil said. I was surprised to hear him speak. This was a good example of how deep children can think. A school had a similar experience. In order to break the habit of abusing children, the rule "He who speaks badly will say sorry" was devised. Children followed suit. Once I saw Deepak's hair style, I got angry with him. "Did you cut like a sheep?" "Madam, you said sorry to Deepak!" Sagar said it suddenly. I said it to Deepak like a sheep. I quickly said sorry to Deepak. The children's faces were full of joy. I must have said sorry so many times that year. I always liked to call girls sparrows and boys parrots. The funny thing is that I still haven't lost the habit of calling those sparrows parrots. I can never forget the anger of my 4th grade students after the Pulwam attack and the joy after the surgical strike. . What else is meant by the inculcation of moral values in children? Children have feelings and a sense of self. If we respect ourselves and preserve our self-respect, then we benefit from our teaching and studies. And self-respecting citizens are very important for a corruption-free country. Because self-esteem is the foundation of a cultured and value-added life (2017/18),.

Dipali

 I entered the class today with a determined heart. I am still teaching Dipali to read. This year, I had my first standard class. Every class to date has been 100% done. This year, however, Dipali was not showing any appreciation.

I still remember the incommunicativeness and the constant fear of Deepali. All the children started reading well, except Deepali. So today I entered the class and called Deepali. I took the cane in my hand and started reading it. Although the rest of the children were pretending to be engrossed in their studies, all eyes were on us. Dipali, however, got stuck on the letter "R" in fear. I was raising anger. The pride of being a good teacher was hurt.'A girl doesn't read!' What an insult to my teaching skills! 

Ok, it's done. Dipali's hands were hit with a thin cane. The baby was crying. But my egoistic mind saw nothing of it.How much should I teach this girl? Finally, I got bored and wrote the words "Ratha" and Rasa" on the board. Dipali started her "lath, and I asked her to say the word "r" behind me. The girl started saying "l" again. 

I looked at Deepali, who was trembling with fear, for a moment. I was totally blown away. I held her close and caressed her face with loving hands. It was my fault. Dipali had a stutter on the letter "R.". So she was saying 'L'. I realize it now. But it was too late. The girl had moved away from me in fear. 

To this day, every student of mine bows and greets me wherever they meet me with love. But Dipali is always afraid and hides away. I bombarded the young girl with punishment just to feed my ego. After this incident, I lost my cane forever. No matter how stubborn and precocious the children are, I avoid punishment. Because in each of those children, I see Deepali's scared face.

 My habit of not punishing children is a subject of ridicule among my fellow teachers. "A student is not afraid of you; what is the use of being your teacher'!" Well, one has to listen, but I am firm that it is not punishment but love and sympathy that make good students.

 Dipali taught me that if punishment had made the person, there would be no prison in the world (event year 2003).

tradition (2005)

 One day, suddenly, Pooja got a phone call. "Madam, my marriage is fixed; I called you to invite you. Sure, come, madam. Will you come or not, madam?"

Pooja, I will definitely come," I assured. "Dear, you are so early; how will you be?" I said I was a little worried.

Madam, I have grown up now." Pooja said it with a smile.

 "Yes, dear, now that you are married, that means you have definitely grown up," I said.

Pooja is the most chatty girl in my class. Pooja's speech would stop only in her sleep; otherwise,  her chattering would continue. It doesn't matter if the other person hears you or not.Pooja, who doesn't sit still for a moment on the bench, Her favorite thing to do is come close to me., holding my chin in her hand and drawing my attention to herself.Pooja, my chin started to hurt; sit down now." Many times I used to get angry with Pooja. But Pooja doesn't want to be affected. No matter what component was being taught, within ten minutes Pooja would ask "Ma'am!" at least twenty times, so I never finished teaching the component as planned. One day, the teaching of the lesson'mulache pay palnyat distant (A child's feet are seen in the cradle') begins. It's a lesson from great scientist Edison. In the course of teaching, I simply said, "If you put in the effort, study well, and become a great researcher, your name will come up in a text." And I will teach the lesson to the children like this." "Madam, I will invent the bomb." Of course, no one but Pooja could have said this sentence. "What will you do after inventing a bomb?" I asked with a smile. "I will bomb blast my house," Pooja said.

"You and your grandfather and grandmother will die in that," said Vaishali, holding back her laughter. "Then what happened? My name will appear in the paper, right, ma'am?" Pooja was talking innocently, and the whole class was teasing. "Madam, Pooja will blow up the entire street with a bomb just to get her name on the paper," said Poonam. Her eyes were full of tears and laughter. After that, for half an hour, we had a discussion on the topic of 'famous a name by doing good work'. All the students in my class considered me a mother. This is my experience with every school. But Pooja was different. She didn't like her mother. She likes to call me mother very much. But she did not call her mother a mother. Her mother used to visit me all the time and complain, "Ma'am, explain something to Pooja; she doesn't call me mother. She insists on calling you mother." My usual job is to explain Pooja. But what kind of worship will you hear?With great anticipation as well as intelligence and dashing worship, Puja had a strange chemistry. Pooja participated in a play in a cultural program. One of the characters in the play was based on a person from the village itself. Of course, only I knew this. The play begins on stage. It was going great. The villagers were enjoying the play. Suddenly Pooja said on the microphone, "I know, this is what you are talking about; isn't it on that Tatya?"  if you think so, madam?" Everyone started looking at me after hearing this. And me down. Although Pooja went to high school in the fifth grade, this meeting was happening. Girls complain to her with the usual "madam, all sirs are tired of her" questions like "madam, if you don't understand, you have to ask, don't you?""Pooja used to remind me. Many years have passed. Pooja went to college. She did a B.Sc. She used to talk a lot when we met. I couldn't go to her wedding. She felt very sad, and I felt sad. Her parents arranged her marriage to a less educated boy. When I asked her, Pooja said, "It doesn't work like that, madam; no one asks a girl if she likes a boy. Parents decide to marry that boy."."Dear, your education and your intelligence will go to waste," I said worriedly. "Ma'am, they are going to teach me further." Pooja's voice had the same innocence. Her grandpa also giggled whenever he met Sir. "Her parents ruin pujas lives.". One day, Pooja got a phone call by mistake. Pooja started talking in ecstasy. "I miss you so much, madam. It feels like being a kid again and sitting in your classroom. What happy days those were! Won't those days come back, madam?" How much did we used to trouble you?" "I loved that trouble.". We both reminisced. "What happened to your further education, Pooja?" "Madam, it didn't happen this year; they are definitely going to take admission in MSC next year," Pooja was saying innocently. I knew that next year would never come. This is the reality of women's lives. Once I saw Pooja's WhatsApp, I saw that Pooja was standing with her husband, wearing a veil on her head, and wearing ornaments all over her body. The photo was great. My mischievous, chatty Pooja was looking at a worldly woman. We have to congratulate our tradition for this change in poojas life.

.

Why is caste not destroyed?

 It had been eight to ten days since I joined the new school. Sir had gone to the cluster school for a meeting. So his 4th class came to me. After going to class, I started chatting informally with the students. My favourite way to get close to children's hearts. Today, I reserve some time in my daily hours just to chat with the children. While chatting freely, children say something that cannot be found in any book. That's what happened today. There was great chat; children were talking freely. Suddenly, Uday asked the question, "Madam, why do we caste?" I was confused for a moment. It was not expected that the question would fall on deaf ears, but the answer should be given, and that too, to his satisfaction. The answer of the ruling party will satisfy the opposition party, but it is difficult to satisfy the doubts of the children. At such times, my habit of reading always comes to the rescue. The whole class was paying attention to me. Maybe they have the same question on their minds. The origin of caste, the system before that, and the fact that in ancient times a person was identified by his karma tried to give as much information as possible. Finally, I said that caste doesn't matter today; you can achieve it with your hard work and intelligence.

Then why was the caste not destroyed? What does it need?" Another question from Uday.

"Son, I don't know the answer. But I'll definitely find out."

I honestly admitted it. So the topic stopped there, and we again indulged in our chat. But the question of Uday was not leaving my mind. Not only this, but gradually it was realized that the casteism in the village was also seeping into the behavior of the students in the school. I spoke to Sir about this. In so many years of work, such an incident has never happened. My children's relationship transcends caste, religion, gender, and wealth. Uday's question forced me to think. We decided that if caste itself cannot be eradicated from the minds of children, at least the bitterness in it should be destroyed. While eating, the children used to sit in their cast groups, close them, and make them all sit together in a row. We all started growing food for students on the spot. At first, there was a little trouble and confusion. But co-workers were helpful, so the essence was smoothed out. One day Siddharth asked, "Madam, why do your meals grow us?" I looked at him while growing and said, "Because I like you so much and I love growing food for you all.".

It happened; April 14 came. Great man, Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar Jayanti. I went to class four. I told the children about Jayanti and gave them this information about the program. Mukesh excitedly said, "Yes, ma'am, we will do a great program." Then one exclaimed, "Your Eklavya Jayanti, ours is Ambedkar Jayanti." The other replied, "Yes, and our Valmiki Jayanti." Now my intellect was frustrated. The division of great men, saints, and gods had reached these children. Infuriating everyone, but in a tone of understanding, she explained how it was wrong. 'Om Namo Tatha Gata' is my favourite song. Beautiful lyrics from the divine pen of Suresh Bhat and from the melody voice of Sudhir Phadke, the beloved of all us Babuji."Param karuna lochanat datvi kshama" is a very wonderful line. Listening to these kids made me remember the song again and again. It was not the children's fault. We were trying to break this fence of caste discrimination by trying our best. It was quite successful. At least in school, the word caste was no longer heard. Two or three years passed like this. One day, a fourth-grade girl came to me and happily said, "Madam, our madams belong to our caste!" "How do you know?" I asked angrily. Ma'am has spoken," she said innocently. What will I say about this?? Why is caste not destroyed? How can we get the answer to the question of Uday? Further, while opposing the corruption, the threat of atrocity law was met, and the corrupt officer ignored it despite complaining and supporting such an act, Then the answer was given: Why is caste not destroyed? Poet Kusumagraj's 'Putale' is also a beautiful poem. At night, all the status of the village gather in the square and express their grief. We spent our lives for the country, and today our identity has become our caste. A certain society stands behind us. At last, Gandhiji says, At least society is behind you; behind me is only a wall. I don't know when the phrase' my country' changes to 'my caste'. In the end, only one truth emerges—that which never destroys caste (2013/14).

The lunch Box

 Children's love in school is expressed in many ways through their behaviour. Some situations bring a smile to the face, and some situations bring tears to the eyes. Kavitha was the sweetest girl in my first class. Studious, calm, and loving, Kavitha was always with me. When Chiku and Tillu were having a lot of fun, she was quietly doing something near me. In the afternoon, after giving mid-day meals to the students, we, along with the teacher, used to eat tiffin. Kavita used to bring a lunchbox from her house for me every day. I explained several times that I had my lunchbox. Then she would bring tears to her eyes. Finally, I used to distribute my lunch box to all the children and eat the lunch box she brought. This started regularly for almost a week. One day, Kavita came to me with a tearful face.'What happened?' I asked, seeing her fallen face.

'Madam, there was nothing left at home today,' she said, crying. I don't understand.

'What wasn't left?''Madam, all the cooking done by mother in the night was finished in the night. Nothing will be left.''Oh, that's good, isn't it? I explained to her that she didn't want to eat stale food. 'But then you couldn't even bring a lunch box!' She said. She was crying again. I still don't understand what exactly happened. I called Kavita nearby and asked again.

'Didn't you bring me a lunch box because the food finished last night?

'Yes, ma'am.' Kavita replied, wiping her eyes. ?''So you were bringing me stale food every day?' I asked again, holding back my anger.'Yes, ma'am. Kavita said it innocently. She didn't realize that she had done anything wrong, but I was very angry. The thought that I had been eating stale food for so long was getting annoying. I sat silent for a moment. Bracing myself. I wanted to know the reason behind Kavita's behaviour.'Dear, why do you bring me stale food in a box?'

"My mom doesn't cook in the morning," she said.

'Why?' I asked in surprise.'My father goes to the cotton mill in the morning. Mummy just bins them. The rest does not cook.'

'So, what do you eat in the morning?' My curiosity was growing. She had two younger siblings. My sister brings khichdi from Anganwadi, and both my brother and sister eat it. My mother gives me what is left at night, and she eats the rest. Kavita was talking, and I was looking at her dumbfounded.'How can I get the lunch box then?'

'I don't want to eat at home what Mummy used to give me. She used to fill it in a box and then bring that box to you'.'So what do you want to eat in the morning?.'

'I don't want to eat in the morning. I used to eat at school." She said it simply. But now I get angry myself. Just so that I could get the box, this little girl would starve till noon. I held her close. I got angry and felt ashamed of myself for giving me stale food. Eklavya had given Dronacharya a cut off his own thumb. I had read and heard many great Gurushishya traditions. But today I felt my Kavita as my guru. A 7-year-old girl who was starving herself and giving madam a lunch box was very superior to me. Today, whenever food is left, I see Kavita. After this incident, the rule that food should never be thrown on the plate was followed until today. Only a hungry person can know the value of food. Even in school, everyone is forced to finish their plate. That box left me forever indebted to Kavita. 

Chiku'

 In June, the admission of first-class students begins. My favourite job is chatting with parents while filling out forms and giving chocolates to an uncomfortable new student. A woman from the tribal Bhil community brought her child to be admitted. Form filling starts while chatting with her. I raised my head to look at her son and give him the chocolate. A very sweet boy with dark skin looked at me and smiled just as sweetly. His white teeth flashed. I immediately exclaimed, "Chiku!" From that day on, he was called Chiku. The same true name remained only on Register number one and on the attendance book. Even while attending, I called him by his name, Chiku. Chiku is my very favourite student. I love his always smiling face and slightly cheeky but sweet way of speaking. At first, Chiku was upset; he didn't like the name Chiku. One day I called him and said, "I call you Chiku because you are sweet like Chiku, and I love you like Chiku."."Chiku euphoniously accepted his new name. The funny thing is that his new name was accepted by the whole village. Everyone started calling him Chiku. The very talkative and mischievous Chiku became the darling of the class. Everyone knew that he was very dear to me, and Chiku' became my favourite whole class. But he never missed school or studied. His mother was also very happy. When we met, she used to talk a lot. Chiku went to the 2nd standard. But even though school started, he did not come to school. So I went to his house, met his mother, and found out that Chiku had gone to the village. She asked him to call back soon. Chiku came to school the next day. "What the hell? When did you come from the village?" "I came in the morning, madam. I came because you miss me a lot; otherwise, I was going to study there," Chiku replied. I can't stop laughing. "So you were going to leave me?" The entire class should use the subject long enough to tease him. We used to organize cultural programs every year in school. Chiku also participated in a folk dance. But two days before the event, he got typhoid. With high fever in the body, it is difficult to get up from the bed. The question is: who should replace Chiku at that time? But both Chiku and his mother are assertive. "Madam, Chiku will dance," Chiku's mother said. "But how"? How much fever does he have? Don't take any risks. Chiku is more important than the program," I said quickly. But on the day of the program, Chiku was present. His mother said, "Madam, if you love our children so much, then what if we suffer a little?" A cot was placed behind the stage, and Chiku was placed on it before his dance began. Chiku got up and stood in the group. Chiku danced up a storm on stage. Seeing his dancing, no one would have believed his illness. Chiku's mother was looking at her son with great joy. Chiku's program ended, and Chiku was drenched in sweat. I took him close with love and put my hand on his head. Madam, I brought him an injection from the doctor. I told the doctor that he had a program,” Chiku's mother said excitedly. I told her to go home and strongly warned Chiku to relax. We were transferred the same year,.Even after the transfer, the bond with the village remains. Once, I went to that village for work and also visited the school. Chiku met but smiled from a distance. It felt a little bad. His new teacher started inquiring about how Chiku got the name. My students in the class looked at me curiously, somewhat curiously. Some even came near saying, madam. While coming back, I told Sir about Chiku. His dry demeanour was an offence. After a few years, I got a chance to go to that village again. I went to school as usual. Some older children were playing near the gate. I got out of the car and started going to the office. The same boy came running and held both my hands. I looked at him, startled. "Do you recognize me, madam? I'm a chiku!" exclaimed the boy.

chakravyuh

 "Ma'am, ma'am, see what Anil is saying?" said my first standard students were running closer.

"What did he say?" I asked as I did my work.
"He says Radha is kissing Krishna!" "What?" I looked at him in surprise, which ensued. There was a commotion among the children. After the lunch break, the children were playing. I was doing my work in the classroom when this commotion broke out. I called Anil near. There was mischievous joy on the children's faces that now Anil would surely beat by me. I had a different thought in my head. Where did the first standard child hear such a pure Marathi word? Because the Bhil dialect or Ahirani dialect was used at home, in the neighbourhood, and in the area,. So I was inquisitive to know how Anil used this word."Where did you hear this word?"?"I asked Anil, "Which word?" His response was, "Did you just say Radha was kissing Krishnan?" "On TV, ""Anil looked at me and said. what to do with this boy now. I saw that photo. Shri Krishna is playing the flute, and Radha Rani is engrossed in listening to the sweet flute. It was a very wonderful photo. I showed the photo to Anil and explained the meaning of the photo in simple language. Anil was a storehouse of countless questions and doubts. At least once a day, he could not relax unless he opened that store of questions in front of me. One day, while playing, he suddenly came to me, his face scared. "Ma'am, my heart is beating very loudly. Look!" He said I was placing my hand on his chest. His heart was beating fast due to running so much. I called all the children in the class and asked them to put their hands on their chests. Of course, because everyone was playing, their hearts were beating fast. Anil explained the reason. From there, his numerous questions arose again, which were answered by the star. Anil likes to study while sitting near me. Ma'am, I get everything when I study standing near you." This explanation does not mean that Anil should study quietly. His chatter continued. Once he explained the movie "Tarzan: The Wonder Car" with complete dialogue, the action was. Anil was as innocent as he was, without a touch of fear or hesitation. Both parents are addicts. But Anil is their only son and very beloved, so he always gets money for food. Just once, he came with a full pack of fried pongee. It was not possible to finish all this, and it was injurious to health. But how will Anil listen? He ate a little and started to suffer. He came to me. And handing that bag to me, he said, "Madam, I am full; now you eat this." Anil loved me so much. So much so that if I am on leave, he avoids coming to school. I have met many children with strong intellects constantly striving to do something. However their lives are affected by the environment at home, the addiction of parents, and their indifference towards education. Some selected children from the class were preparing for their Navodaya exams. There was a good response. The day of the exam dawned. Sir and I went to the exam centre. The children came. They found the exam hall and seated them on the spot. I went near Anil. I inquired whether there was a pen or not. Anil took out a packet of chips from the bag and started eating. I got a bit irritated. "What the hell is this time to eat chips"?" "Madam, mom didn't cook; she gave me 5 rupees to eat chips," Anil replied. The hunger was evident on his face. It was 11 o'clock, and Anil was still hungry. I hid the tears in my eyes. I moved my hand with love over his head. "You eat." Then the examiner came. Anil looked at me nervously. "You eat; I'm here." He ate a little. Ma'am, it's done mine," he exclaimed. I put a big lollipop in his hand. My anil was happy. After the exam, I met all the children. Everyone was talking about the paper. Anil was alone in eating lollipops. He didn't even ask how the paper went. How can such a child write a paper on a hungry stomach? "Hungry Anil," I asked. Not now, ma'am; lollipop is cool," said Anil while eating. Navodaya Pariksha result declared. These kids were studying at a city school. And that year, only rural children got a chance. At that time, it was unfortunate that we could not do anything for these children. God knows when they will be freed from the maze of poverty, ignorance, and addiction.  I wanted to bring Anil home and complete his education. But it was not possible due to endless difficulties. One day, I asked Anil about coming to stay at home. Only we two will stay; never, sir, then," answered Anil. Although the parents of these intelligent children were poor and drug addicts, they had a lot of faith in me. "You are the real parents of our children," they always said.
But their immense faith in me could not save those children from the vicious cycle of their situation. Even today, if I inquire about the children, I will know that Kunal goes to graze goats, Anil does not come to school, and I am very depressed. How unbearable are we? (2015/16)

We are living in history.

 History is my favorite subject. There is a rush of enthusiasm when teaching history. Therefore, I carried out the maximum number of experiments and ideas on this topic. History is always unfolding in front of the students in the form of drama and stories. But this time, I wanted to do something different. The students were very enthusiastic and equally experimental. So, we lived history with the children every day, in every task, on every occasion. First, the naming ceremony for each student was performed. Nandini became Moro Trimbak Pingale, as she was the class head. Kunal became Senapati Hambirrao Mohite. And Anil's mathematics was good ,So he became Ramchandra Neelkanth because he used to see the expenditure of Swarajya. Rina's handwriting was very good, so she became a correspondence manager, Annaji Datto. Rohit became Dattaji Trimbak. Lakshmi became Ramachandra Trimbak. Minister of Foreign Affairs. Aarti was very calm and sensible,so she became Judge Nirajipant. Rohit  became..Raoji.. Sapna was very mischievous and made her Tanaji Malusare, some one Bajiprabhu Deshpande, and some one Murarbaji. And everyone addressed each other by the same name and showed respect. Children are very excited. . Each classroom in the school was given these names. The principal's office was named 'Raigad'. Sindhudurg, the class in which there was a water tank.My classroom was named Sinhagad because there was a wall in the school compound adjacent to it. The two adjacent sections were named Vishalgad and Panhalgad. The children demanded that each of our benches be given these names. They were called castles instead of benches. Daily khalita, notice book adnyapatre , and attendance book called Hukumnama.. Our lives have become historic. When we went to class after Paripatha, our language also changed. "General, Hambirrao Mohite, state condition?"Then the conversation started. The children participated enthusiastically. If the children ever make a mess, the children are on their feet as soon as the order is given: "Shivarai's mawle, leave for your respective forts soon.". If attendance is not found, "Moro Trimbak Pingle, where has your state Hukumnama gone?" Literally, we were living in Shiva Raya's time. The children eagerly asked for more information about Maharaj. Shivaraya's books are read again and again with pleasure. Asking many questions. Anil's innocent question is still well remembered. He made a simple division between Chhatrapati Shivarai as his hero and Aurangzeb as the villain who tormented him."Madam, how did our Shivarai die so early and Aurangzeb live so long? The villain dies early; the hero kills him."What shall I answer to this? "Our Chhatrapatis fought many battles; they established Swarajya with great effort, so they got tired early, so they died early."I tried to explain in my own way. Again, the question was, "Didn't Aurangzeb go to war? Just sit at home? How did he die? Then how did his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather die?" There was no end to the question. And this is our love of history.After telling them that King Humayun had died after falling from the stairs, their gossip became a flood. Then collecting all the information became their favorite work.We present a historical play every Saturday. Of course, the choice of subject, direction, costumes, and dialogue are all up to the children. 

And happily, their family also participated in the play "Gad Ala pan Singh Gela," staged by the children, and a wall is used to show that Tanaji climbs a cliff. It was great to see their imagination and enthusiasm.

We really lived history for a year with this Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaja. Even today, if I remember it, it brings a smile to my lips and tears to my eyes. In a school for tribal boys, Bhil and Ahirani languages predominate. But our love of history did not get in the way. History had become a part of our lives. 

Pillu

 It had been almost a month and a half since school started. Being in the first standard, those little innocent children were slowly getting to know each other. The funny thing is that the whole class is very naughty. So I did not know when the day was set. "Ma'am, ma'am, this, that, and that" chatter and chatter all day long. One of the pillu calmed down a bit. His name is not remembered due to his lack of company, but his cute face is still visible to the eyes. His favourite thing to do is to sit near me during the break. After a midday meal, all children play in the playground. But this sweet boy found me and stuck to me. So naturally, he became a bit of a darling. Health examinations of students are conducted every year in July and August. This year it happened; all our colleagues were standing outside, and of course, the topic was a health checkup. As usual, the pill was staring at me. At that exact time, the nurse, Jadhav, came. Very enthusiastic and passionate nurse. I have never seen a nurse who does her job so honestly. My attention instinctively went to the pillu's hand. There was a reddish spot on it. I wondered how I had overlooked it. It has never been like today. A health checkup was done today. How did the doctor not say this? I told Jadhav's nurse about these scars. She observed it. She asked Pillu to remove his shirt. These scars were found on his back and chest. She asked to be examined at a government hospital. Not only that, but she took him for examination. Leprosy was diagnosed. When Jadhav nurse went to Pillu's house, his mother and elder brother were diagnosed with leprosy disease. The treatment of those three started. Pillu knew nothing of this. He came to school like always. Sit with me in the afternoon. Of course, there was no doubt in my mind. The doctor said to seat him separately from other children. Also, sit a little longer for food. But I did not agree with that at all. What to tell the pillu, how to understand? He was not ready to sit alone. And not from me at all. I could not stop them from sitting near me. In the end, it was decided that the pill should be treated the same as always. I don't want to hurt that innocent child. I do not want to act in such a way that his mind will be adversely affected. Sir knew my nature, so he did not force me. One day after school, Sir took me straight to his doctor friend. He told him everything, including my insistence. Doctor, listen to everything. The question was not only mine but also the health of other children. During the first few months after starting treatment, the virus becomes stronger. So, at least for the first few months, the pill should be taken care of. In rural areas, even today, they do not eat nutritious food, so their immunity is low. Then I got sick. It felt very bad. The pillu, who never missed a day of school, did not know what to say. The next day, I went to Pillu's house and talked to his mother. Everything was explained to her, and despite being tribal and illiterate, she understood. The real question was about the pillu. How can I tell him not to come to school? But he was always staring at me. I ordered all his medicine pills. Ask the patient to take the medicine regularly. Pillu had a big question mark on his face: "What if it happened to me?" I waved my hand over his head and returned to school. The child stopped coming to school. The space near me became empty. I was going to meet Pillu at his house in eight to ten days. The difference was due to ongoing treatment. It has been almost a year. Then the pillu was completely cured. June came. I was curious about the arrival of the pillu. He had to make up for his remaining studies this year. I was on leave for two days due to certain reasons. On coming to the school, I found out that eight to ten boys and girls from Pillu's pada had gone to study at a nearby private school, and Pillu too. I felt a little sad. But it continues. Children from one school enrol in other schools, and children from other schools come to our school. After a few days, it was time to go back to their residence... The pillu was preparing to go to school. Now he was very tall. But there is a strange expression on the face. Suddenly, a pain appeared in the heart. This was my first experience. My bond with the children will always be stronger. But today the experience was different. Let's take this experience. That's why I explained it to myself. 

Sensitivity

 If children are to be sensitized, they should be made close to nature; they should be friends with nature. So I try every time that children and nature should be good friends with each other. This time, I decided to implement that activity. Children were getting good responses about friendship with trees and their care. The remaining question is sensitivity. As tribal children in school, they hunt birds and animals. I wondered if there was any activity that could be done in the actual school. We decided to start petting activities at school. Permission was obtained from the principal. Children are told that they can keep any animal they like, take care of it, or even bring it to class; just make sure they don't neglect their studies. As soon as the instructions were received, there was a flurry of children and a barrage of questions. Answering their questions. But the questions did not end.  The next day, the enthusiasm of the children was overflowing. Everyone chooses animals and birds. Prem came with a small box. I asked curiously, What's in it?" Prem's reply was, "I petted a spider!"!

I can't stop laughing. "Son, what will you feed him? How can he weave a web in such a box?"
Prem's determination was firm. "I like spiders; I will keep them." Of course, I agreed and appreciated him.
Two days later, Akshay's father comes with a complaint that Akshay runs around the village with his friends after pigs, and the pig owners abuse him a lot. But he doesn't listen.
Akshay was a very intelligent and sensible boy. I did not like this behaviour. His father was very angry. "Madam, you must punish him." Seeing his insistence, four sticks were hit on his hand. Akshay has never been punished to date. So he started crying a lot. His father and sister are gone. I took him close, wiped his eyes, and asked, "Akshay, why did you act like this?"?
By then, Akshay had calmed down. "Ma'am, we were going to take care of the piglet." He replied. Now I don't know what to say. It is very difficult to explain it to children without hurting their feelings. Fortunately, the granddaughter of the owners of those pigs was in my class. Nandini is a sweet and smart girl. I called her and asked for information about why the pig was kept. She told everything, and in the end, she did not forget to say, "If a pig dies, we lose a lot." "Ma'am Akshay used to throw stones at the pigs, and so my grandfather was angry with him."
Finally, our activity was successful after a detailed discussion on pets and their uses. Later, Akshay and Kunal adopted a cute puppy together and prepared a nice little house of wet twigs for him at school. That puppy sleeps soundly in his house during class. All the students were doing their studies quietly. But during the lunch hour, the whole class gathered around the puppy. One day, Akshay came crying. His puppy was forcibly taken away by someone who said it was his own puppy. "I used to take good care of him; I raised him," Akshay was saying, crying. Taking him close and explaining. It's good that children quickly forget the essence. The children were taking care of the animals. Many had given up killing and eating birds. My purpose was successful. At the farewell function of the fourth standard, Kunal told this story with tears in his eyes. And he told, me how much they loved me. "When we grow up, we will buy a washing machine and gift it to our madam. Because then madam's hands won't hurt when washing clothes.". Kunal and Akshay promised. At that time, tears came to my eyes. Both children are from poor tribal families; how much were they thinking of me?
What's a better example of sensitivity? To share in each other's joys and sorrows and to know their pains is a sign of being human. Anil was going to grow up to be an IPS officer, take care of the poor people living on the streets in their sickness, and spend money on them. Aarti and Lakshmi were going to be madams and teach all the children a lot. Reena was going to be a madam, just like me. Lakshman was not going to pass fourth and go to fifth; he wanted to stay with me at this school. Nandini was going to be a collector. Anil and her fight every day on the same issue—the collector is the most powerful, or IPS officer. And I get tired of resolving their fight.
All these children were from tribal, poor families. Poverty at home was accompanied by parental addiction. Seeing their parents fighting at home every day, they used to come to school without fail and dream of their future lives.

poverty

                                This year I got first standard.. There were some tribal children in it. Most of them little older. So I had to learn from their mood. For the first few days, those children came on time and helped with the studies. But suddenly their behavior changed. Things like coming late, talking less, and not responding started happening. Children who come late during paripatha are punished in school. These children accept punishment daily. No reaction, no crying, no tantrums. This was going on for 8–10 consecutive days. Finally, I decided to meet the parents of these children and find out the truth. Because most of the parents leave early for work, they need to know about the children. It was necessary to have information. After going to school the next morning, I immediately went to the children's residence. There was a drought in the settlement.   Only children were playing, while at the door of most of the huts, small children were eating on small plates. In some huts, babies were sleeping in slings. The children who were playing were scared of seeing me. the fear that the madam would get angry with them. It was evident on their faces. I went to the children. Asked about not coming to school, no answer was received. Just then, some women were seen carrying a wooden beam on their heads. I went near them and complained about the boys. Of course my tone is the same: "You don't care about children; you don't care about education; the government provides so many facilities but it is not worth it, etc." Those women listened to me completely, and then they said,'madam, we go to the forest in the morning to collect firewood; now we will take this wooden beam to the village, sell it, then take grain, grind it, and make bhakari. The children will come to school after eating it. In your school, lunch is served at 2 o'clock. ("At that time, the lunch break was at 2 o'clock.) How can these children stay hungry till then?" It felt like someone was hit under the ear. The entire attitude that I am a teacher and am very concerned about the students was revealed in a moment. The scars on the eyes disappeared. The children were taken close and told to come to school as soon as they could. It was not possible to speak much. Both the eyes and the throat were full. (Year-2002)

Who is criminal?

 Durga is my adoptive daughter. Despite the lack of a legal adoption statement, I regarded her to be my daughter, and she considered me her mother. Our interaction with each other was similar to that of a mother and kid. Durga is a tribal girl. Every year, we try to discover and enrol children in school by searching the entire hamlet, the surrounding area, and huts in the fields. Durga was discovered in a pada outside the hamlet, along with a large number of children. Durga was my beloved. At the time (2001/2), there was no age-based admittance policy. So, even though the youngsters were 8 or 9 years old, they were admitted first standard. One Saturday, during the school assembly, a woman dressed in an uncomfortable saree, her hair zipped, and her two or three wailing children entered the Anganwadi. Her face reflected poverty and anguish. After a while, the mother and her children left. I asked the Anganwadi teacher about her. The tribeswoman's husband had recently passed away. There was not a grain left in her house. Every time, a starving child walked after her, weeping. She came every morning to obtain soaked pulses from the Anganwadi. After getting them, she goes to work and feeds her babies uncooked, soaked pulses every day. Surprisingly, because of her poverty, one of her babies died of famine recently, and that woman was Durga's mother. After learning all of this, I could not stop crying. Hunger and poverty were observed up close for the first time. Colleagues were explaining. But I was unable to stop crying. I convinced my husband (Sunil) that we should adopt Durga. He denied. My insistence persists. Finally, a colleague proposed that 'you cover her schooling and eating expenses for the time being. You can adopt her later'. As a result, Durga has begun to spend the entire day at my house and only returns home to sleep. One day, she appeared really happy. When asked, she explained that her mother took a little kothi and filled it with jowar. They now eat a full supper every day. "My mother goes anywhere all day long and brings grains and money," Durga smiled. Durga's mother was once seen coming out of the Jeep in front of the school. She was dressed in a saree like a rural woman, with jewellery on her feet, many coloured bangles in her hands, and a tribal clothing. Her alteration was evident. Adoption was unnecessary because Durga was happy, thus the subject was closed. In the meantime, Durga was away from school, so I went to her house to investigate. I discovered that the villagers had thrown her family out of the village. Further research revealed that Durga's mother was doing horrible things. The family was expelled from the village because such a bad- character woman was unwelcome there. Nobody knew where the woman had gone with her children. Some individuals said, 'She was like that, madam'. I came to school feeling numb. I had the same thoughts all day. Is there no duty to society? When a kid died of hunger, society did not hurry to help; rather, based on moral ideals, the entire society banded together to transport the destitute widow out of the hamlet. For a few days, I felt depressed because I was worried about Durga. However, time is the best medicine. I've forgotten what happened. We were transferred. One day, on my way to school, I heard a familiar call. I paused to look; it was Durga. Well, grown up. She wore the same smile. She ran. She held a sickle in her hand. She was planning to work in the field. "We're back, madam. They refused to allow my mother come, but we are currently residing with my aunt. "I go to work." I smiled and waved my hand above her head. That was everything I could do for her. Where will Durga be now? Will she get married? Will she be happy? After a while, I found myself back in my own world. (Year of Incident: 2002).