By Suhel Seth
Decades ago, Mahatma Gandhi said, India lives in her villages: I guess from a socio-economic perspective it still holds true, but where India really breathes is in its small towns, places which have neither lost their character nor their soul, and Dehra Dun is happily one such place. It is quite another matter that a large influx of Calcuttans has further embellished the spirit of Dehra Dun. I had gone to attend the ONGC 50th anniversary celebrations and was touched by the words that President Kalam uttered at the celebrations.
Words which make one proud that we have a President who actually thinks about the country and its future, and is not here to make either political capital or treating his job as a sinecure. He spoke with passion about bio-fuels and alternate fuels; he spoke with conviction about the need for India to seriously examine issues relating to the environment, especially aqua environment, and one knew instantly these were not words crafted by some speech-writer but instead passionate beliefs. Even more critical was the courage and humility of the man that shone through in all that he said and the way he behaved. Truly, a people¹s President.
I also had the opportunity to visit the Doon School: I had never been to the Doon School before, but this one trip made me realise the difference between being an elite school and an elitist school. Over lunch with the headmaster, my friend Kanti Bajpai, I discovered that even today, the Doon School has amongst the lowest fees anywhere in India for a boarding school. Whereas, from all the media hype that surrounds the Doon School, one would imagine that it is an expensive institution. Which it is not.
Thankfully, rituals such as every student eating at the same time with faculty members and religion not being either a matter of concern or discussion, still hold true in a nation increasingly wearing its religion on its sleeve. I was equally delighted that Shakespeare is still very much around and The Rose Bowl continues to be the haven for theatre: traditions that are unfortunately dying everywhere else as headmasters and headmistresses become Padmashris rather than remain just good old fashioned teachers. The buildings at the Doon School are charming to say the least, and the fact that the school is dotted with trees, makes it seem out of some Scottish highland. But I guess that is where the comparison with Scotland ends.
Dehra Dun, as far as the town is concerned, is an utter mess. It is polluted; the roads are in a mess and the civic administration is in a state of paralysis. For the affable and charming Kanchan Choudhury, the director general of police, you have an equally rude and offensive A.K. Ratauri who is the inspector general of police. I wonder why small towns have to suffer people like Ratauri! Making matters worse is the chief minister of Uttaranchal, N.D. Tiwari. For those of you with weak memories, he was the man who picked up Sanjay Gandhi¹s shoes at an airport once. The only thing Tiwari seems to be working hard at is getting favourites to become heads of state corporations and be given the rank of Cabinet ministers. The roads can go to hell, since he flies by chopper most of the time, except of course when he is going to the washroom. But the state of civic conditions is deplorable.
I also had the privilege of meeting yet another fine educationist, Dev Lahiri, at the quaint home of Anjali and Robin Roy. Dev is the headmaster of Welham¹s Boys¹ School and has lived a life that is not only unjust but also severely traumatic. A Rhodes scholar (like Bill Clinton and Girish Karnad), a sportsman par excellence, a man who left the corporate world of Unilever only so that he could give back to society in full measure by becoming a teacher, Dev was hounded out as headmaster of the Lawrence School, Lovedale, by Anjolie Ela Menon (not exactly known to be the paragon of virtue herself, given the controversy about her fake paintings) and a motley group, apparently at her behest. A group that indulged in mud slinging and defamation of the kind that is not only tragic but also very unbecoming. Dev today is all but a shattered man. He has gone through 12 critical heart surgeries and is still being deprived of his money that was owed to him when he was forced to quit his last job. So much for the fine traditions of the Lawrence School, Lovedale.
If this is the way they treat their former headmasters, I wonder what values they espouse for their students. And despite all the protestations, right from the education department to the PMO, no one has really done anything about it. So Dev continues to fight two battles with admiration and grit: one for his life, and one for his dignity. And this is where I believe we as a nation sometimes let the very best amidst us down in a manner both despicable and heinous. You only have to meet Dev and his stoic wife Indrani to know what they have suffered and how help is still so far far away.
The drive back from Dehra Dun to Delhi was frightening and at the same time very interesting. If you can find a road, then drive on it because the conditions are truly abysmal and someone needs to rap N.D. Tiwari on the knuckles. The highway project seems to be going nowhere, and in a way it is perhaps good. The longer Dehra Dun can insulate itself from the Delhiwallah (but welcome the Calcuttan), it will retain both its soul and its charm.
