Babita (name changed), a class VI student, loves to dance, and is adept at Bharatanatyam. No cultural programme at her school is complete without Babita’s performance, and she never fails to evoke admiration. Nothing unusual, really.
Now consider this – two of Babita’s three elder sisters are commercial sex workers (CSWs). Her father, a drunkard, is a rag picker, and has taken another wife after the death of Babita’s mother. The three sisters, her father and her stepmother live in a cramped shanty they call home.
Had it not been for Navjeevan School, Babita could easily have been pushed into the flesh trade by now. “By the grace of God and thanks to Navjeevan, Babita is now getting a decent education. She is one of our brightest students, and wants to be a teacher. Here, she has gotten a new life, literally, and that is what the name of our school means,” says Aneeta Patel, the Secretary of the school.
Navjeevan is a residential school for slum children – probably the only of its kind in the entire country. “There are schools and literacy programmes for children living in slums, but ours is perhaps the only one in the country with a hostel attached,” Ms Patel told UNI. At present, the school has 150 students, all of whom are from slums. They are studying from nursery to class VI, with half of them, including boys and girls, living in the hostel, she said.
The boarders are given breakfast, lunch and dinner, while the ‘day scholars’ are given breakfast and lunch, Ms Patel said. They are given free education, uniforms and study material as well, she also said.
The stories of almost all the students in the school are as poignant as that of Babita’s. Ritu (name changed) rushed to the school with her two sons after her father-in-law tried twice to rape her. When she complained to her husband, he admonished her for trying to ‘tarnish’ the family’s name. Ritu now works in the school, while her sons study there and live in the hostel.
Ranjana’s (name changed) father is a cook at a small wayside eatery, and, by her own admission, ‘sometimes steals’ to make ends meet. Fed up with the poverty, he once tried to sell off his daughter into the flesh trade, after which her mother sent her to Navjeevan. The school’s reputation has travelled, and now it has children from outside Nagpur, including adjoining Wardha and Amravati districts, and even neighbouring Chhattisgarh.
Ms Patel said that the school started as a small effort to educate poor children from slums at home. “We would buy snacks for the kids to make them come for the coaching. The idea of Navjeevan evolved from this effort. We started a residential school, as we want to prevent as many children as possible from going back to an environment that encourages them to become criminals and anti-social elements. This is an area for concern – one of the boys said he wanted to be a ‘pickpocket’ when he grew up. Such people are the only role models they had. The kids were either into picking pockets, stealing or begging,” she said, adding that the school provides a bus for the kids who commute to and from home.
The schooling at Navjeevan has shown them a better path of life, and the children have taken to studies like fish to water, Ms Patel, who all the kids affectionately call ‘Aunty,’ said. “They are all extremely talented, and take part in activities like drawing, painting, embroidery and music with enthusiasm. They also have a very high level of intelligence,” she says with justified pride.
The initial funding for the school came from a Dutch couple, which had adopted two girls from Nagpur several years ago from an orphanage managed by Ms Patel’s mother, Iris Wilkinson. The couple runs a voluntary organisation in Holland to help the government find jobs for the unemployed, and they also keep raising funds for Navjeevan.
However, it’s not all a bed of roses for the Navjeevan team, Ms Patel said. “Finance is a major problem. We need 600 kilograms of rice and 300 kilograms of pulses every month, for the children’s food. We serve each of them one egg every day for protein. Then there are other expenses, like staff salaries, electricity, transport and water. You can imagine the kind of expenditure that we incur,” she said.
In fact, the situation was so bad at the beginning of the current academic session that the Navjeevan management committee had seriously contemplated not re-opening the school after the summer vacations, Ms Patel added.
Now consider this – two of Babita’s three elder sisters are commercial sex workers (CSWs). Her father, a drunkard, is a rag picker, and has taken another wife after the death of Babita’s mother. The three sisters, her father and her stepmother live in a cramped shanty they call home.
Had it not been for Navjeevan School, Babita could easily have been pushed into the flesh trade by now. “By the grace of God and thanks to Navjeevan, Babita is now getting a decent education. She is one of our brightest students, and wants to be a teacher. Here, she has gotten a new life, literally, and that is what the name of our school means,” says Aneeta Patel, the Secretary of the school.
Navjeevan is a residential school for slum children – probably the only of its kind in the entire country. “There are schools and literacy programmes for children living in slums, but ours is perhaps the only one in the country with a hostel attached,” Ms Patel told UNI. At present, the school has 150 students, all of whom are from slums. They are studying from nursery to class VI, with half of them, including boys and girls, living in the hostel, she said.
The boarders are given breakfast, lunch and dinner, while the ‘day scholars’ are given breakfast and lunch, Ms Patel said. They are given free education, uniforms and study material as well, she also said.
The stories of almost all the students in the school are as poignant as that of Babita’s. Ritu (name changed) rushed to the school with her two sons after her father-in-law tried twice to rape her. When she complained to her husband, he admonished her for trying to ‘tarnish’ the family’s name. Ritu now works in the school, while her sons study there and live in the hostel.
Ranjana’s (name changed) father is a cook at a small wayside eatery, and, by her own admission, ‘sometimes steals’ to make ends meet. Fed up with the poverty, he once tried to sell off his daughter into the flesh trade, after which her mother sent her to Navjeevan. The school’s reputation has travelled, and now it has children from outside Nagpur, including adjoining Wardha and Amravati districts, and even neighbouring Chhattisgarh.
Ms Patel said that the school started as a small effort to educate poor children from slums at home. “We would buy snacks for the kids to make them come for the coaching. The idea of Navjeevan evolved from this effort. We started a residential school, as we want to prevent as many children as possible from going back to an environment that encourages them to become criminals and anti-social elements. This is an area for concern – one of the boys said he wanted to be a ‘pickpocket’ when he grew up. Such people are the only role models they had. The kids were either into picking pockets, stealing or begging,” she said, adding that the school provides a bus for the kids who commute to and from home.
The schooling at Navjeevan has shown them a better path of life, and the children have taken to studies like fish to water, Ms Patel, who all the kids affectionately call ‘Aunty,’ said. “They are all extremely talented, and take part in activities like drawing, painting, embroidery and music with enthusiasm. They also have a very high level of intelligence,” she says with justified pride.
The initial funding for the school came from a Dutch couple, which had adopted two girls from Nagpur several years ago from an orphanage managed by Ms Patel’s mother, Iris Wilkinson. The couple runs a voluntary organisation in Holland to help the government find jobs for the unemployed, and they also keep raising funds for Navjeevan.
However, it’s not all a bed of roses for the Navjeevan team, Ms Patel said. “Finance is a major problem. We need 600 kilograms of rice and 300 kilograms of pulses every month, for the children’s food. We serve each of them one egg every day for protein. Then there are other expenses, like staff salaries, electricity, transport and water. You can imagine the kind of expenditure that we incur,” she said.
In fact, the situation was so bad at the beginning of the current academic session that the Navjeevan management committee had seriously contemplated not re-opening the school after the summer vacations, Ms Patel added.
(UNI, Nagpur, November 16, 2008)
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