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By:

Commodore S.L. Deshmukh

31 October 2024 at 3:00:19 am

The School That Changed India

In the closing decades of the 19th century, education in India was less a public good than a colonial instrument. The British administration had little interest in creating a broadly educated society. Inspired by the logic of the 1854 Wood’s Dispatch, it sought instead to cultivate a narrow English-speaking elite capable of staffing the lower rungs of the imperial bureaucracy. Schools and colleges produced clerks, not citizens. For the overwhelming majority of Indians, education remained an...

The School That Changed India

In the closing decades of the 19th century, education in India was less a public good than a colonial instrument. The British administration had little interest in creating a broadly educated society. Inspired by the logic of the 1854 Wood’s Dispatch, it sought instead to cultivate a narrow English-speaking elite capable of staffing the lower rungs of the imperial bureaucracy. Schools and colleges produced clerks, not citizens. For the overwhelming majority of Indians, education remained an unattainable privilege rather than a pathway to opportunity. Stifled Aspirations If men faced exclusion, women confronted near-total invisibility. The 1891 Census recorded female literacy at a microscopic 0.42 percent, compared with 8.44 percent for men. Formal education was largely confined to daughters of affluent, progressive urban households. For rural women and those from disadvantaged communities, schooling scarcely existed. Child marriage, rigid patriarchal customs and the confinement of women to domestic life combined to ensure that literacy remained a distant aspiration. Yet, history changes because individuals decide that prevailing assumptions deserve to be challenged. The latter half of the 19th century witnessed the emergence of Indian social reformers who questioned inherited orthodoxy. Figures such as Raja Ram Mohan Roy began attacking customs that denied women dignity and opportunity. Their campaigns met fierce resistance from conservative opinion while operating within the constraints of colonial rule. Nevertheless, they planted the intellectual foundations for one of modern India's most profound social transformations. Among those who carried that movement to its logical conclusion was Maharshi Dhondo Keshav Karve. Born in 1858 in Sheravali village in Maharashtra’s Ratnagiri district, Karve’s early life offered little indication that he would become one of India’s greatest educational reformers. Raised in modest circumstances, he pursued learning with remarkable determination, graduating in mathematics from Mumbai’s Elphinstone College before teaching at Pune’s Fergusson College. It was there that he confronted the grim realities facing widows and women denied even the most basic educational opportunities. At a time when widow remarriage invited social ostracism and women’s education was dismissed as dangerous, Karve devoted himself to both causes. His conviction rested on the deceptively simple proposition that a nation could not hope to progress while excluding half its population from education. Women’s education was no charity but an investment in national development. That belief acquired institutional form in 1896 with the establishment of the Maharshi Karve Stree Shikshan Samstha in Hingne in Pune’s Karve Nagar. Its beginnings could scarcely have been humbler. The institution functioned from a tiny hut, admitting just four girls, many of them child widows whom society had effectively abandoned. Resources were scarce, public support limited and opposition intense. Yet Karve understood that enduring reform begins not with grand declarations but with functioning institutions. Radical Experiment The experiment steadily expanded. A women's school followed in 1907, where Karve’s own widowed sister-in-law, Parvatibai Athavale, became its first student - a deeply personal affirmation of his ideals. His greatest achievement arrived in 1916 with the founding of SNDT Women’s University, India’s first university dedicated exclusively to women. Long before phrases such as “women's empowerment” entered official vocabulary, Karve had already translated the concept into educational practice. Today, the Maharshi Karve Stree Shikshan Samstha educates more than 32,000 girls through dozens of institutions across Maharashtra, serving students from disadvantaged communities, tribal populations and economically weaker families. What began with four pupils in a hut has become one of India’s largest networks devoted exclusively to women's education. Its expansion tells a larger story about India itself. Educational reform succeeds not merely because governments legislate it, but because visionary individuals create institutions that outlive them. Karve’s legacy survived changing political regimes, economic upheavals and shifting social attitudes precisely because it rested on durable foundations rather than passing slogans. That legacy is preserved in the Maharshi Karve Museum in Pune, established on his 150th birth anniversary. The museum displays his personal belongings and chronicles a life defined not by dramatic gestures but by extraordinary perseverance. Visitors encounter more than the biography of a reformer; they encounter the origins of an educational revolution that quietly reshaped Indian society. India today debates artificial intelligence and global university rankings. These conversations risk obscuring a more fundamental truth. The country’s educational transformation began not with technology or policy frameworks, but with a moral conviction that every individual deserves the opportunity to learn. And Karve recognised that principle long before it became fashionable. (The author is a retired naval aviation officer and a defence and geopolitical analyst. Views personal.)

Bharat’s Jetson Cities, Light-years Away from Nature

Updated: Jan 20, 2025

Jetson Cities

One thing is for certain: our Bharatiya cities, the big metros and towns, are fast becoming like the ‘Jetson’ cities. For those who are unaware of Jetson cities, these were first shown in the famous Hanna-Barbera cartoon series, the Jetsons, set in the 2100s, where cities are air-tight glass globules tethered to the ground, and the only way to get in and out are the flying cars. Yes, we, the city-dwellers, aspire to tall skyscrapers, spectacular bridges, world-class tunnels, swooshing metro trains, and we are building Jetson-like flying cars. A few HD drone images here and there, during the day and at night and around twilight, and we are content that our cities have become the cynosure of our own eyes. We want our cities to be brightly lit, with neon signs, laser shows, and large billboard videos. We would then fulfil our inner desire to have a city on par with Tokyo, New York, and Shanghai.


Our buildings, designed for the next 30 years, are well air-conditioned, shielding occupants from a soupy dust bowl of brown smog, soot, particulate matter, and fine dust. It is said that most new home buyers invest at least 10% of their property’s price in enhancing the interiors, soundproofing their homes, using air purifiers and conditioners, and disconnecting from the outside world for that much-needed solace. Indeed, large builders promote their projects as close to nature amidst tranquillity. However, there is always another builder eager to get one plot of land ahead of yours to enjoy that nature. To be truthful, access to nature now comes at a premium - even the skies.


Let’s assume the working-age population is occupied in the leisure of our Jetson cities, but how many of their young school and college-going kids have seen the long arm of the Milky Way galaxy from their cities? How many have witnessed a comet zooming by? How many know about endemic plants with medicinal properties? When did they last see a chirping house sparrow? How many know that the nearest sewage drain was once a freshwater stream? When did they last find their suburban beach prettier than the resort beaches of Maldives?


The intent to ask these questions is simple: Bharat is currently at a crossroads. Pundits are enthusiastic about a cultural renaissance on the horizon. Corporate leaders, on the other hand, want us to invest hundreds of hours each week to pay our dues to the growth of the national GDP. But no one asks, if a cultural renaissance is to occur, who will generate the new understandings and insights of nature that arise typically during such a period of human advancement? No one is actually asking, for whom are we building the nation if there is no time for children, or worse, if there is no time or intent to have children. In the process of growing rich, we are about to become old. By 2047, 65% of the population under the age of 35 will grow beyond 35 all at once, and we’d have an enormous population in advanced ages with a tapering young population, a graph that looks like a banyan tree. Unfortunately, that young population will have no access to the knowledge that nature has to offer, neither flora and fauna nor the seas and the skies.


Our urbane lifestyles need tempering. Such tempering can occur only if we ensure the revival of natural sciences during this period of cultural renaissance and nation-building. Let’s not rely solely on the educational system. With Indian Knowledge Systems, constructive changes are underway, and academic curricula are poised to improve for the greater good. However, true knowledge arises only when parents and grandparents introduce children to nature. Genuine understanding also develops from extracurricular activities in schools and colleges that encourage kids to observe, journal, and act on their discoveries. On the positive side, our country’s forest cover is increasing, as announced by the government. However, efforts must be made to ensure that every school or college, whether in Mumbai, Vijayawada, Gorakhpur, Ratlam, Thrissur, Bhuj, Faridabad, Imphal, Manali, Cuttack, or Ajmer, guarantees that their students are well aware of the endemic nature of their surroundings and are regularly observing and recording data on whatever interests them. Let kids observe rivers and understand the volume of water that flows through them. Let children learn about the decline of house sparrows in their cities and what steps should be taken to revive their populations. Let them study the bees in their nearby groves and recognise the vital role these bees play in nature.


Of course, you need to learn AI, robotics, fintech, the next generation of management courses, and all the engineering bells and whistles. However, we must not leave the next generation with inadequate comprehension and skills for understanding nature. We must ensure that nature conservation is not merely lip service or a tool for politicised green activists. This can be achieved if natural sciences are given the respect they deserve at the school, undergraduate, and postgraduate levels.


Indeed, I am a plebeian, and you might feel that you, too, could write a rant about the plight of our urban lives. Urban development and municipal experts have many solutions to propose, but few are willing to take action. However, that is not the issue I wish to highlight. I aim to illustrate a much larger concern—that Indian city dwellers are disoriented and devoid of nature, lacking a guiding star to lead them toward a brighter future. Our cities of Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru, Ahmedabad, Kolkata, and Chennai have taken on characteristics reminiscent of Jetson-like cities. We show little regard for the Nagar Devata, Gram Devata, and Van Devata, who have protected the cities, towns, and forests that once surrounded us. We wait for formal governance to clean up our beaches, rivers, and ponds without making sufficient efforts to prevent pollution in the first place.


For those striving to grasp spirituality not through the Puranas and Aadi-Granth but through new-age podcasts, I recommend watching Vinay Varanasi’s podcast on Bhagavan Vishnu’s Dashavatar. If it is clear that Bhagavan Vishnu does not tolerate disregard for Bhudevi or Mother Earth, why do we, the devotees of Bhagavan Vishnu, continue to pollute our Mother Earth—her air, soil, waters, and sounds? Or have we taken Elon Musk's words at face value, assuming our next destination is Mars after destroying Earth, only to ruin Mars later, even worse than its current clinically sterile state? If that is the case, then bear with me when I say this: these Jetson cities stand on precarious pillars of ego, victimhood, apathy, and consumerism, waiting to be toppled either by the true harbingers of order or by false prophets. Therefore, teach the next generations to observe nature, appreciate our coexistence with other species, and venerate the forces of nature. By doing so, we humans will be good, at least for the next thousand years. If not, prepare for a bleak future by the end of this century.


(The author is a Space and Emerging Technology Fellow at the Centre for Security, Strategy and Technology, Observer Research Foundation, Mumbai. Views personal.)

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