Shubhankar Shah: Kamal's Kavita -- My Baiaji's Life Story What do you think of when you hear of a Physical Education teacher? A muscular young man with a moustache that hides a small forest underneath? Well, how wrong would you be if you saw my late grandmother, Kavita Pawaskar, a diminutive woman who barely touched five feet in height.
She was probably one of the earliest female PE teachers in Maharashtra in the late 1950s, as she would unfailingly re-collect on those warm, summer nights in my childhood. We were all living together in my uncle's small apartment in Margão and sleeping beside Baiaji was a common habit of mine. The nights were muggy, and mosquitoes kept me company. But there was also Baiaji who stayed awake with me. While her name was Kamal (meaning lotus), she changed it to Kavita (meaning poem) after her marriage and moving to Goa in 1963. But I could never pronounce it as a child. So, I called her Baiaji, meaning 'teacher-grandmother' due to her profession. Baiaji had her share of bedtime ghost stories, especially the ones which involved my uncle going jogging early in the morning near Aquem Church or the ones from her paternal farm in Chalisgaon, but it was always her life stories that fascinated me the most. I was amazed by the stories and even more so by the storyteller in front of me. My grandmother, of all the women in India, was a P.E. teacher in her youth? That's definitely not how one imagines their wrinkled and frail old grandmother to be. Though, to be fair, she was a rather disciplined and staunch lady with a very strong personality. Hence, in hindsight, her profession makes complete sense. Getting back to the story.... I remember Baiaji telling me about her time in Poona (now Pune) around 1956 where she studied the STC and C.P,Ed. at the SP College. (Sir Parashurambhau College was set up in 1916 as the New Poona College and later renamed after the father of the then ruler of the Jamkhandi State.) Although she was allowed to pursue higher education by her parents (her adamant desire and willingness overcoming any objections), she was very much short of money to pay for her dreams. Baiaji's elder sister came to her rescue and generously handed her Rs.400 after selling all her gold jewellery. She had to give her basement on rent to pay for Baiaji's monthly expenses in Pune, reflecting her kindness towards her. Even now, Baiaji would tear up and confess her gratitude to her late sister, without whom her aspirations would have been utterly tarnished. Baiaji underwent both the STC (Senior Teaching Certificate) and C,O,Ed (Certificate in Physical Education) courses simultaneously, working from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. Her mornings began with wake-up calls to immediately appear on the ground in a strict dress code; this would force the students of the time to wear their polished shoes at night and go to bed to avoid infractions. The instructors, it seemed, were bent on breaking the students to birth new P.E. teachers that were tough as nails. Hence, the rigours of the training programme were laid bare. After lunch, Baiaji would teach in a local school which I assume was a kind of an internship for her teaching course. Sundays were spent in washing clothes and other hostel-related activities. Sometimes she would also explore prominent Pune locales with her friends to learn more about the city. While she was studious, Baiaji was no stranger to adventures either. Her PE Teachers education took her to camps in the forest where she had to keep vigil overnight as her classmates slept. Snakes and scorpions were abundant in those forests, so to keep herself awake and to ward off wild animals, she would tie a ghungru (musical anklet used by classical Indian dancers) to a stick and tap on it through the night. Camp activities there involved crossing rivers on wonky footbridges, going across a rope between two trees with just upper body strength, and the like. Hence, her training in Physical Education was quite thorough and challenging. She narrated an incident from one of those camps to me. The girls were asked to sleep in a pucca house in the forest, which was quite the reprieve from the usual make-shift tents. As the night progressed and everyone was fast asleep, the roof tiles started to rumble as if someone were dancing on top. Screams of "thief, thief" were roused. The teacher-in-charge whistled to signal the immediate presence of everyone on the ground. All the girls ran there in a jiffy, while my grandmother did the same. Except that Baiaji took her pillow with her. On being questioned, she revealed that all her female classmates had entrusted their jewellery to her, which she had kept in her pillow! Her quick thinking and smart response got her a commendation from the teachers, who had in fact conjured up an imaginary thief to test the students' bravery and grit in demanding situations. Such were the antics of my grandmother who was always the frontrunner to challenges in her life. There were many stories that Baiaji recounted to me over the course of my childhood. I only remember them in bits and pieces now. I lost my Baiaji recently, which makes me rue the fact that I did not collect these life stories sooner. But I am thankful for the tales and experiences that she passed on to me. I have learnt immensely from her life. The principles of patriarchy always seemed so strange and unfamiliar to me as I became an adult. I now realise that having strong female role models in my family made me immune to the propaganda of patriarchy. Baiaji was the perfect example of how the only thing separating a man and a woman is the perception of the beholder and not actual abilities. Her life stories kept me awake at night instead of putting me to sleep. But I have never regretted losing sleep in those perspiring yet inspiring summer nights. -- Shubhankar Shah, 25, is an assistant professor in Parvatibai Chowgule College of Arts and Science (Autonomous). He is an avid photographer who loves mucking around outdoors with his friends as much as he loves sitting quietly at home, reading or watching movies. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Join a discussion on Goa-related issues by posting your comments on this or other issues via email to goa...@goanet.org See archives at http://lists.goanet.org/pipermail/goanet-goanet.org/ *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-