SNEHA SALONI
snh.sngh3@gmail.com
A HEADMASTER AT 16
At 16, Babar Ali probably is the youngest headmaster in the world. A teenager in charge of teaching hundreds of students in his family's backyard, he runs classes for poor children from his village. The saga of this teenager from Murshidabad (West Bengal) kindles the desire to learn amid the direst poverty-stricken.
Ali rises early, does his household chores, takes an auto-rickshaw and finally walks to Raj Govinda school, 10 km from home. The school is the best in this part of West Bengal, where hundreds of boys and girls attend. In class 12, Ali is studious and smart, and a model student. He is the first member of his family ever to get a proper education.
"It's not easy for me to come to school because I live so far away," he says, "but the teachers are good and I love learning. And my parents believe I must get the best education possible that's why I am here."
Chumki Hajra, a pupil at Babar Ali's school, describes her day thus:
Every morning, instead of going to school, she scrubs the dishes and cleans the homes of her neighbours. She's done this ever since she was five. For her work she earns just 200 rupees a month. It's money her family desperately needs.
"My father is handicapped and can't work. We need the money. If I don't work, we can't survive as a family. So I have no choice but to do this job."
Babar Ali has made it his mission to help Chumki and hundreds of other poor children in his village. The minute his lessons are over at Raj Govinda school, Babar Ali doesn't stop to play. At four o'clock every afternoon after Babar Ali gets back to his family home a bell summons children to his house.
Standing on a podium, Babar Ali lectures them about discipline, then study begins. Babar Ali gives lessons just the way he has heard them from his teachers. Some children are seated in the mud, others on rickety benches under a rough, homemade shelter.
"In the beginning I was just play-acting, teaching my friends, but then I realised these children will never learn to read and write if they don't have proper lessons. It's my duty to educate them, to help our country build a better future."
(Courtesy: BBC News)
Ali rises early, does his household chores, takes an auto-rickshaw and finally walks to Raj Govinda school, 10 km from home. The school is the best in this part of West Bengal, where hundreds of boys and girls attend. In class 12, Ali is studious and smart, and a model student. He is the first member of his family ever to get a proper education.
"It's not easy for me to come to school because I live so far away," he says, "but the teachers are good and I love learning. And my parents believe I must get the best education possible that's why I am here."
Chumki Hajra, a pupil at Babar Ali's school, describes her day thus:
Every morning, instead of going to school, she scrubs the dishes and cleans the homes of her neighbours. She's done this ever since she was five. For her work she earns just 200 rupees a month. It's money her family desperately needs.
"My father is handicapped and can't work. We need the money. If I don't work, we can't survive as a family. So I have no choice but to do this job."
Babar Ali has made it his mission to help Chumki and hundreds of other poor children in his village. The minute his lessons are over at Raj Govinda school, Babar Ali doesn't stop to play. At four o'clock every afternoon after Babar Ali gets back to his family home a bell summons children to his house.
Standing on a podium, Babar Ali lectures them about discipline, then study begins. Babar Ali gives lessons just the way he has heard them from his teachers. Some children are seated in the mud, others on rickety benches under a rough, homemade shelter.
"In the beginning I was just play-acting, teaching my friends, but then I realised these children will never learn to read and write if they don't have proper lessons. It's my duty to educate them, to help our country build a better future."
(Courtesy: BBC News)
Hi Sneha..Only i know how i have searched you...plz can we talk...I wish you could.
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