In what points to a deepening of India’s learning crisis, a study by Azim Premji University has found that 92 per cent of primary school students have lost at least one language ability from the previous year during the school closure induced by Covid-19.
Mathematical abilities, too, have suffered considerable damage. According to the report released Wednesday, 82 per cent of the students in Classes 2 to 6 had lost at least one mathematical ability in the same time.
The study defines loss of language ability in the said age group as describing a picture or a personal experience orally, reading familiar words, and writing simple sentences based on a photo, among other things. Identifying single or two-digit numbers, performing basic mathematical operations and describing 2D and 3D shapes are some examples listed under the mathematical abilities the students were assessed on.
To be specific, 67 per cent of children in Class 2, 76 per cent in Class 3, 85 per cent in Class 4, 89 per cent in Class 5, and 89 per cent in Class 6 have lost at least one mathematical ability from the previous year, the study found.
We are proud to announce that Jharkhand CM @HemantSorenJMM will be the Chief Guest of the discussion ‘Decoding India’s internal migration’ on February 12 at 2pm.
In case of learning loss in language, it found that 92 per cent of children in Class 2, 89 per cent in Class 3, 90 per cent in Class 4, 95 per cent in Class 5, and 93 per cent in Class 6 have lost at least one specific ability from the previous year.
The findings are important as they confirm apprehensions of experts over the damage prolonged school closures may have inflicted. The survey assumes significance against the backdrop of the recently announced Budget for 2021-22 that has proposed a cut of Rs 5,000 crore for Samagra Shiksha Abhiyan that funds school education.
The study was conducted in January and covers 16,067 children in 1,137 public schools across 44 districts in five states -— Chhattisgarh, Karnataka, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan Uttarakhand.
The report emphasises that the extent and nature of learning loss are serious enough to call for action at all levels.
The Law Ministry has shot down a proposal moved by the Ministry of Education (MoE), seeking powers to initiate an inquiry against the Board of Governors (BoG) of an IIM if it’s ostensibly found to be acting in contravention of the IIM Act.
The MoE proposed the said order under Section 38 of the IIM Act, which allows the government to remove teething difficulties in implementing the new law within three years of its enactment.
In a meeting held last month, the Law Ministry is learned to have objected to the MoE’s proposal on the ground that it is inconsistent with the provisions of the IIM Act, which gives unprecedented autonomy to the 20 business schools, and that any provision permitting the government to take punitive action against the institute can only be introduced through an amendment in the law.
The IIM Act, which came into effect on January 31, 2018, gives sweeping powers to all 20 business schools, including appointment of directors, chairpersons and Board members. Earlier, for instance, the director was appointed by the Board but with the prior approval of the Appointments Committee of the Cabinet (ACC) headed by the Prime Minister.
Explained
Education Ministry’s powers weakened
The IIM Act allows the government to remove any teething problems by way of an executive order within three years of its enactment – a deadline that expired on January 31. With the Law Ministry junking the Ministry of Education’s draft executive order late last month, the MoE now cannot do much in terms of giving itself more powers to act against the IIMs—unless it decides to amend the IIM Act.
The MoE’s proposal came amid the current standoff between the Government and IIMs over the one-year MBA degree.
In July 2020, the MoE had red-flagged the one-year executive MBA degree saying that it is “not in accordance with the UGC Regulations”, which mandate that a Master’s degree should be of two years, not one.
The IIMs, in the government’s view, violated that provision. In a letter, the business schools were directed to “act in conformity with the UGC Act 1956”.
We are proud to announce that Jharkhand CM @HemantSorenJMM will be the Chief Guest of the discussion ‘Decoding India’s internal migration’ on February 12 at 2pm.
Some of the IIMs had converted their one-year diploma for working professionals into a degree programme after the IIM Act, 2017, allowed degree-granting powers to the 20 business schools. Out of the 20, IIMs in Ahmedabad, Bangalore, Kolkata, Indore, Kozhikode, Lucknow and Udaipur offer the one-year degree for executives.
However, the IIMs defended the one-year degree to the government and continue to run the programme.
The MoE’s move was also significant given that there was a strong difference of opinion within the government – over autonomy and accountability — at the time of the drafting of the IIM Act.
In 2015, while the MoE had advocated retaining government control in the name of ensuring financial and administrative propriety, the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO) had wanted a hands-off approach. The draft law went back and forth for almost a year between October 2015 and September 2016, during which the MoE, then under Smriti Irani, stuck to its guns, but yielded after Prakash Javadekar took over in July 2016.
SENIOR OFFICIALS from the Ministry of AYUSH, who were addressing a press conference at Savitribai Phule Pune University (SPPU), took a strong stand against “mixopathy” at a time when doctors are staging protests against a recent notification by Central Council of Indian Medicine under AYUSH allowing Ayurveda practitioners to perform a few surgeries.
At SPPU for inking a pact to form a joint consortium for research in AYUSH systems, Dr Bhushan Patwardhan, national research officer, AYUSH, skirted the issue when asked about the recent controversy over the notification.
However, Patwardhan later issued a statement on the matter. “There should be no ‘mixopathy’ practice in the country. It is not acceptable to me too. I won’t promote something like that,” he said.
Vaidya Rajesh Kotecha, secretary, Ayush, also denied accusations that the two medical fraternities were at loggerheads. “No, there is no conflict of interest between modern medicine and AYUSH practitioners. We are cordial and during the COVID-19pandemic, many were using alternate medicine practices as a supplementary method. For research as well, we have done important link-ups. I don’t think there is a conflict,” he said.
On Wednesday, a pact was inked between Ayush institutions like Teaching and Research in Ayurveda, Jamnagar, National Institute of Ayurveda, Jaipur, Rashtriya Ayurveda Vidyapeeth, New Delhi, and Centre of Excellence in Ayurveda at SPPU, with the aim to establish a collaborative network of institutions working in interdisciplinary areas of AYUSH.
The pact focuses on developing scientific research, capacity building, promoting faculty members to take part in various courses, conferences, seminars, congresses, organising training programmes for AYUSH teachers, students, clinicians and researchers.
Patwardhan said there was always an accusation about little research in the AYUSH system, and that it was not documented properly. He added that as a solution, top institutions needed to come up with a standardised protocol and also do collaborative work.
“There was a need for a common platform for strengthening these systems and also training manpower. To this purpose, this consortium has been formed,” he said.
During my research for the book Guru Dutt An Unfinished Story, various accounts of Guru Dutt’s colleagues, close friends and his family members suggested that despite being at the peak of his success, Guru Dutt’s constant refrain used to be, “Mujhe lagta hai mai paagal ho jaoonga (I think I’ll go crazy!)”
As a biographer, I was curious to know what was the turbulence in Guru Dutt’s life and cinema? Why was Guru Dutt constantly restless and lonely? Why would he run away from Bombay looking for escape from his tortured state of mind. And finally, despite creating those masterpieces within a span of just 10 years, why did he end his life at the young age of 39?
A few people close to Guru Dutt blame his turbulent relationship with Geeta and the much talked about relationship with Waheeda Rehman? It is also said that he could never recover from the giant failure of his magnum opus Kaagaz Ke Phool. I learnt about the stories of his disturbed childhood and later his dependence on alcohol and sleeping pills. But was there a single reason that left him so heartbroken that he attempted suicide many times?
It was surprising that Geeta Dutt, a star in her own right was not a crucial character in all the previous accounts on Guru Dutt. Why was her version denied in almost all the write-ups about Guru Dutt?
Finally, through Guru Dutt’s sister Lalitha Lajmi’s the story of Guru and Geeta Dutt unravelled in the book. Lalitha Lajmi told me, “Guru Dutt and Geeta were deeply in love. But there was one major conflict in their relationship. Guru had promised that Geeta would continue singing even after their marriage. But now he wanted her to sing only in the films produced by Guru Dutt. He wanted Geeta to take care of the family, the big house they had built. With every successful film Guru achieved fame while Geeta felt that she has been denied her share of fame.”
About Waheeda Rehman, Lalitha said, ‘Waheeda and Guru Dutt had almost parted (in 1961). She used to invite us both sometimes for dinner and my brother knew she was friendly with me. l heard Guru Dutt went with a bouquet of flowers to her home and the doors were not opened to him. Perhaps it was after this incident l had visited him and for the first time he told me not to keep in touch with her any more.’
But she also added, “I don’t think he committed suicide over either of the two women. Professionally, Waheeda and Guru Dutt had moved away much before he passed away.”
Then what else was going on in Guru Dutt’s life that he had twice attempted to kill himself. He survived both attempts but was finally gone on 10th Oct 1964, he was gone at 39.
Lalitha Lajmi says, “For years I had dreams of Guru Dutt lying on his bed with his eyes half open and an unfinished book. I try to wake him up. I say, ‘get up! get up! your admirers are waiting below the balcony!’ I keep looking at his face. He looks like he is in a deep sleep. I keep waiting for him to get up but he is dead.”
I try to piece together the stories of Guru Dutt’s life and times in my book Guru Dutt An Unfinished Story. It is the story of Guru Dutt the genius filmmaker who remained an outsider in the film industry. It is the story of Guru Dutt, the person, a lonely, tortured soul and it is also the story of the Hindi Film industry of the 1950s and 60s.
(Yaaser Usman is a biographer, journalist and film critic)
January 14, 2021 marks 123rd death anniversary of English writer Charles Lutwidge Dodgson also known as Lewis Carroll. Lewis was born on January 27, 1832, in Daresbury, Cheshire, England.
Lewis was the eldest son and third child of the Rev. Charles Dodgson and Frances Jane Lutwidge. He grew up in isolated villages in the English countryside with his ten siblings. The writer who gave the world much of muchness through one of his greatest works Alice in Wonderland went to Christ Church, a constituent college of Oxford University. Besides being a captivating writer, Lewis also excelled in the study of classics and mathematics. He received several honours for his work in mathematics and held positions as a senior student and a lecturer in Christ College.
Let us look at some of Lewis’ greatest works:
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
This fantasy fiction was written for children. The book was published in 1865 and its illustrations were done by British artist John Tenniel. Alice in Wonderland is a story about a girl named Alice who falls into a rabbit hole that transfers her into a magical world of smiling cats, talking animals and a fancy tea party with the mad hatter.
Through the looking Glass
A sequel to Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There was published in December 1871 after the first book was well-received by the readers. This novel describes some more adventures of protagonist Alice as she transfers to another mystical world through a mirror. This world is ruled by some illogical behaviour, chess boards and chess pieces.
It is also in the end of this novel that we find out who inspired Lewis to write this classic. A boat beneath a sunny sky, the poem that comes at the end of this novel is an acrostic that spells out Alice Pleasance Liddell, who was an acquaintance and photography subject of Lewis.
The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony in Eight Fits
Published in 1876, this poem is quite similar to his previous works in terms of its nonsensical elements. The poem is about a sea voyage of a bellman, boots, barrister, broker, billiard marker, banker, beaver, baker, and butcher and their search for the elusive and abstract snark.
Sylvie and Bruno
This novel along with its sequel Sylvie and Bruno Concluded were Lewis’ last novels. Sylvie and Bruno were published in 1889. The book took its readers to two different worlds, one real and another fantastical.
Sylvie and Bruno Concluded
The last novel of Lewis came out in 1893 and has the typical writing style of the British writer. There are fairies and other fantastical creatures in Elfland described in this novel. The novel traces the journey of two siblings Sylvie and her little brother Bruno.
A new book, titled Vajpayee: The Years that Changed India is all set to hit the stands on 25th December to mark the birth anniversary of veteran BJP leader, and former Prime Minister, Atal Bihari Vajpayee. The book charts the course of Vajpayee’s prime ministership and tries to give the readers a glimpse into Vajpayee’s thought process and political philosophy.
Written by Shakti Sinha, who had worked very closely with Vajpayee during his tenure as the prime minister, and is currently the honorary director of the Atal Bihari Vajpayee Institute of Policy Research and International Studies, at MS University, in Vadodara, this book outlines in details many highlights of Vajpayee’s career, including the series of nuclear tests that the prime minister conducted in Pokhran. In the book, the author writes that although initially the decision to go nuclear caused domestic euphoria, and silenced the opposition, as more tests were conducted Vajpayee faced international criticism, with the then US President, Bill Clinton, calling it a ‘terrible mistake.’ The book states:
“After the initial domestic euphoria, which forced the Opposition to keep mum, domestic criticism (of the Pokhran Nuclear Test) gained force. The left parties criticized the Vajpayee government for deciding to change national policies unilaterally. They felt that the other political parties should have been consulted. The Congress was confused as to how they ought to react. Should the tests be celebrated as a programme begun by Indira Gandhi, which received a major fillip during Rajiv Gandhi’s regime? Or would such a stand make Vajpayee look good, hinting at the Congress’s implicit acceptance that this was the right thing to do? Their initial reaction was, ‘Why now?’ Essentially, the Opposition did not know how to react, as was soon illustrated by I.K. Gujral. His remedy was that India should sign the CTBT, like France and China did after conducting tests.
This ignored the fact that both these countries were recognized nuclear weapons states under the NPT, and the CTBT allowed them to test if they felt that their national security was imperilled, a luxury denied to India. Another Opposition leader, Mulayam Singh Yadav, had a simpler criticism—that the tests should have been kept a secret.
Even as reactions to the initial tests, conducted on 13 May, were coming in, two days later, India conducted two more tests. These ‘were required to demonstrate our capacity to miniaturise, at sub-kilo yields, and with that India concluded its planned series of tests’, as the media was informed by the government. The next step taken was possibly the best thing to have been done as a follow-up to the tests, though it received a lot of flak at that time.
This was to write to world leaders explaining the circumstances which had made testing a compulsion for India. Unlike normal diplomatic correspondence, which is all sweet and cloying, this one was direct but polite. A great deal of effort went into the writing of these letters.
No sooner had Vajpayee’s letter reached the White House than it appeared in the New York Times. This caused considerable embarrassment for us, since we had pointed to the ‘China factor’ as the primary reason for our decision to test. It was said that the compulsion to go nuclear was driven by, to quote from the letter, ‘. . . overt nuclear tests on our borders, [conducted by] a state which committed armed aggression against India in 1962, [and] although relations had improved in the last decade or so, an atmosphere of distrust prevails mainly due to unresolved border problem. That country has materially helped another neighbour of ours to become a covert nuclear weapons state, [due to which, we] have suffered aggression from that neighbour, [making us] victim of relentless terrorism and militancy.’
Factually, the statement was correct, but all hell broke loose. The Chinese were livid and made their outrage known. Domestically, too, a lot of people criticized the government for having spoilt relations with China; Chinese perfidy in supplying nuclear and missile technology to Pakistan which undermined India’s security was conveniently ignored.
The international reaction to Vajpayee’s letter was subdued, almost bordering on disbelief. The American analysts only picked up the 1962 part, ignoring the rather nuanced reference to India–China relations in the letter. I remember reading an American comment that India could not expect to be taken seriously if it used the 1962 war as justification for the tests. Clearly, the commentator either did not read the statement, or if he did, its meaning escaped him.”
The author Shakti Sinha pointed out that the criticism against conducting the tests grew louder as the series of nuclear tests continued and it wasn’t just America, but United Nations, as well as Nelson Mandela, who condemned them. During such circumstances, Vajpayee got an unexpected supporter in Dalai Lama, who was primarily against nuclear armament of any kind but, more importantly, did not like the ‘undemocratic’ way in which countries were accessing the dangerous weapon, with some having more right and access to it, than other. In the book, Sinha writes,
“The international reaction after the second series of tests and the letters was several degrees ‘hotter’ than what had followed the initial tests of 11 May. And yet, there were some realistic voices who singly agreed with India’s need to move ahead but in groupspeak went along with condemnatory statements. Clinton said that India had made a terrible mistake. He even moved on removing the hurdle of the Pressler Amendment so that arms sanctions on Pakistan could be lifted. Nelson Mandela condemned the tests. The United Nations Security Council expressed its dismay. On the other hand, France said that sanctions made no sense.
They were joined by the UK and Russia, who also said that they would not impose sanctions. Within the US itself, different voices now started speaking up. House Speaker Newt Gingrich said that Clinton was being one-sided, blind to China’s doings, and was in fact selling nuclear technology to them, which was adding to India’s security concerns and making the latter more worried about China than about Pakistan. Congressman Frank Pallone, co-founder of the India Caucus (a group within Congress, sympathetic towards India), opposed the tests but asked Clinton to consider the situation India was in and put it in perspective.
India had a long and contested border with China and faced a large PLA presence on its border. The Chinese presence in Burma was of concern to India as well, and there was Chinese support for hostile groups operating against the Indian state. Pallone’s recommendation was that the US should take the threat India faces from China more seriously and consequently work in closer coordination with India. A few years later, as India’s position as a rising but responsible power was being recognized, Henry Kissinger backed the tests. Despite his long ties with the Chinese regime and old history of rubbing India the wrong way, he conceded that India had a case for a deterrent against China. Like many others, he felt that the American sanctions were probably a mistake.
The Dalai Lama sent a personal letter to Vajpayee, in effect supporting the decision to test by alluding to the point that the possession of nuclear weapons would deter any offensive actions and would therefore ensure peace. Vajpayee was very touched when he read the letter. Later, the Dalai Lama went on record saying that India should not be pressured into giving up nuclear weapons; it should have the same rights as developed countries. His basic point was that he thought ‘nuclear weapons are too dangerous. Therefore we should make every effort for the elimination of nuclear weapons.’ However, he disagreed with the assumption that it was all right for a few nations to possess nuclear weapons when the rest of the world did not; it was undemocratic.”
The following excerpts have been published with permission from Penguin Publishers.
Although official historical narratives remember the Indian soldiers who ‘contributed’ to the First World War by fighting for the British empire, there were more than 550,000 Indian men, who participated in the same war as ‘non-combatants’ whom no one remembers.
They were porters, stevedores, construction workers, janitors (sanitation workers who cleaned latrines), washermen, stretcher-bearers, water-carriers, cooks and many other menial job workers. It was through their backbreaking work that the British were able to maintain the supply chains, remove wounded soldiers from the battlefield and tend to the many needs of their army.
One rarely finds their mention in the official literature of the Great war, but Radhika Singha – a professor of Modern History at Jawaharlal Nehru University – has meticulously plugged that literature gap with her new book, The Coolie’s Great War: Indian Labour In Global Conflict 1914-1921.
Singha’s book is a result of a decade long research on legal, and military history of the first world war and talks about the labour systems — built on the backs of the menial workers — which collectively sustained the military infrastructure of the British empire. The book views the global conflict through the lens of Indian labour, talking about how Indian tribals, as well as colonial prisoners, were shipped off to far-flung battlefields of France and Mesopotamia, for the vested interest of the British rulers.
Singha’s research on the subject began after she stumbled on a letter from Mesopotamia sent on March 1916, which was marked ‘confidential’. The letter was an urgent call for latrine sweepers from India, but the reason it was kept confidential was that Cholera had broken out in the area. By calling sweepers from India, they were sending Indian labourers in the cusp of an epidemic for their own advantage.
In the book, she collectively calls the menial workers, the ‘Coolie’ corps. She explains that although they were initially viewed as ‘racially subordinate and subjected to non-martial caste designations, they fought back against their status, using the warring powers’ need for manpower as leverage to challenge traditional service hierarchies and wage differentials.’
In the book, Singha writes:
Inspecting the Lady Hardinge Hospital at Brockenhurst, which treated Indians from the Expeditionary Force in France, Sir Walter Lawrence noted an act of local kindness. A burial plot had to be found for a sweeper belonging to a peculiar sect which never cremates. We asked the Woking Muhammadan Burial ground to allow us to bury him there, but they flatly declined. We then had recourse to the Rev. Mr Chambers, the Vicar of Brockenhurst. He came forward and kindly allowed us to bury him in his churchyard.
Lieutenant General George F. MacMunn embroidered this incident into a story about untouchable life, seeking to strike ‘a mingled vein of sorrow and glory’. Bigha, the latrine sweeper in MacMunn’s account, is from the Lalbeghi community, whom MacMunn describes as ‘nominal’ Muslims, though ‘untouchables’. They, therefore, bury their dead instead of cremating them, so that they ‘might face the recording angels like any other follower of the prophet.’ The Imam refuses to bury the outcaste in his ‘cleanly plot’, but the other hospital sweepers insist he has to be buried. Learning of the dilemma, the vicar declares, ‘Surely Bigha Khan has died for England, I will bury him in the churchyard.’ ‘And so Bigha, outcaste Lalbeghi, lies close to a crusader’s tomb’ by the end of the story, ‘in the churchyard of St Agnes Without … Lalbeghi and Norman, the alpha and the omega of social status.’
There is no real churchyard of St Agnes Without, but the grave of one Sukha Kalloo, a sweeper, lies beside some New Zealand graves in the churchyard of St Nicholas at Brockenhurst. Sukha was probably the sweeper of Lawrence’s report and the ‘Bigha’ of MacMunn’s fictional account, as his gravestone is indeed subscribed by the parishioners of Brockenhurst, and it has an Islamic arch instead of the cross which marks the grave of an Indian Christian sapper nearby. MacMunn added a second such tale of ‘pathos and glory’, modelled, he claimed, on another real-life incident.
In this, the regimental latrine cleaner Buldoo, inspired by his childhood play at soldiers with a golden-haired English boy, assumes the identity of a Rajput sepoy and dies leading a heroic counter-attack from a trench in Mesopotamia. Clearly, MacMunn was suggesting that it was in empire alone, in such spaces as the British home and regiment, that the ‘untouchable’ found succour, not, as he crudely put it, in ‘Gandhi and his blather’. But the war’s hunger for manpower had also allowed the unimaginable to be imagined—the sweeper to be cast as a war hero.
Singha explains how the war not only gave those ‘racially subordinate’ to earn their respect, and climb up the ladder in the army to become war heroes, but also gave farmers and farmhands a respectable occupation as soldiers. She writes:
In recruitment propaganda, service as a sepoy or an Indian cavalryman was cast as the only form of off-farm work which did not demean respectable agriculturalists:
Jat ki kamai, kahan-kahan kis kaam mein aati hai Karen kheti hai zamindara, fauji kaam hamaara Aur jitne hain ahalkaar, yeh kamai nek kehti hai. Jat ki [Of all the different forms of work it is only cultivation or military service which is honourable for the Jat].
Some propaganda pamphlets described sepoy service as ‘not work at all!’ The peasant had to be induced to believe that when he put on his military boots, he distanced himself from an existence shaped by backbreaking labour and the vagaries of the weather. He also acquired, propaganda materials suggested, some immunity against the rough handling of his person by the policeman, the creditor and the revenue official.
A World War One recruiting song contrasted the plight of the man outside army life with his position inside: ‘Here you get tattered shoes, out there you get full boots … Here you get shoved around, out there you get a salute.’
Such immunities prioritised the army’s own claims to the person of the sepoy, but they were cast as status enhancing privileges acquired by service to the state.
The world of work was still an insistent reality for the follower ranks. However, they were told that their uniform and fixed monthly wage gave them the prestige of government service. Medical and transport officers who wanted a better deal for their follower personnel had to contend with the hyper-masculine code of combatant service. The rhetoric they used was that the devotion of the follower ranks gave a higher gloss to the valour of the fighting races, rather than dimming it. At the same time, they pointed out that this duty of care exposed stretcher-bearers and mule-drivers to battlefield risk.
They also drew upon contemporary ideas about labour efficiency to argue that better food and kit for followers would allow them to train more intensively and would prevent desertion and invaliding in field service. To track the improvement which took place over 1916–17 in the institutional position of the ‘higher followers’, this chapter focuses on the stretcher bearers, or kahars, and the mule-drivers, or drabis. It also picks out the cook, bhisti (water-carrier), sweeper and syce (groom and grass-cutter) in order to explore the service milieu of the attached followers, often referred to as the ‘menial ranks’.
The following excerpts have been published with permission from HarperCollins.
