The Music of Gyanshalas

Bihar is state that has continually been ravaged by river flooding. In August 2007,

"State Disaster Management department sources said over 11 million people spread over 4,822 villages in Muzaffarpur, Sitamarhi, Saharsa, East Champaran, Supaul, Darbhanga, Patna, Bhagalpur, West Champaran, Katihar, Madhubani, Samastipur, Sheohar, Nalanda, Khagaria, Gopalganj, Madhepura, Araria and Begusarai were affected by the floods." (http://www.expressindia.com/news/fullstory.php?newsid=90467)

Devasting flooding combined with a variety of other factors (including a lack of employment opportunities and poverty) has led to heavy migration from Bihar. Migration is especially prevalent in the Sitamarhi District (where we are now) which is a major source for child labourers working across India. For many years Pratham has worked to break this cycle and free children from labouring in big cities such as Mumbai and Delhi. One Pratham initiative has gone the distance and returned Bihari child migrants back to their home districts in Bihar. With their parents consent many of these boys have entered Pratham Gyanshalas (meaning "Gyan" Knowledge "shala" School) which provides lodging, 3 meals a day, tutoring services, and a caring community. There are 6 Gyanshalas in Bihar, 4 in Sitamarhi and 2 in the Kishanganj District.

Rukmini and I stayed in a Gyanshala in Sitamarhi and last night at about 10pm we spoke with the ~30 boys. They asked me all sorts of questions about being from America and asked Rukmini even more questions about her work-related visit to Pakistan (she had only good things to say).**

This afternoon (after visiting 4 summer camps) we stopped by another Gyanshala in Sonbarsa Block where I met Muhammed Quyum.
Muhammed is from the village of Davrimore (near Silampur) and had never been to school before he moved to Delhi to work at a Zari (embroidery factory) at age 9. He spent about half a year working in a tight, cramped room before finally moving back to Bihar to live and study in a Pratham Gyanshala. Muhammed has been living in the Gyanshala for 2-and a half years now, and while he was shy and timid, he still possessed a rough exterior which made it difficult to fully engage him.

We learned that Muhammed was a great singer and he was brought a tabla to perform. Please watch this video below; it is one of the most touching and painful performances I have ever seen. Muhammed sings a song called "Kahai Tune Mujko Bombay Bhejah?" which translates to "Why did you send me to Bombay?" The song is about a young boy in a sweatshop who sings to his mother, asking "why did you send me away?" and "please bring me back home."

While Muhammed sang this song, many of his peers hummed along in unison. Watching them all share in this song together was both heart-breaking and empowering. After all they've been through, it's difficult to understand how these boys could smile as large as they did, and be as kind and welcoming as they were. Even though they have had a very tough past, it looks to me that with Pratham's help they each have promising futures.

**Side-note Highlight of the Day (continued from above):

At the end of this impromptu class session Rukmini asked Arun, one of the boys there known as a great musician, to sing a song in Bhojpuri (a Bihari language). After he finished, she looked at me and said, "Pushkar, why don't you sing a song in English for them?" I definitely wasn't expecting that. After a moment of heavy anticipation-- with all the boys staring at me-- I began.

Sometimes in our lives,

We all have pain,

We all have sorrow.

But if we are wise,

We know that there's

Always tomorrow...

I was singing Bill Wither's "Lean on Me." I gathered my courage and as I sang louder (and more soulfully...) I even got some of them--the ones who realized I needed a friend-- to begin clapping along with me. I finished and was greeted with mild applause and a lot of giggling. After we translated the song into Hindi so the boys could clearly understand the song's meaning, I received a much more enthusiastic applause.

And then? Rukmini suggested we teach each other the songs.

20 minutes later I had 6 interested pupils arranged in a standing chorus, reading the lyrics (in English) off of my notebook (while trying to get them to understand me through my American accent). I wish I could say it was a success.

It was a monumental undertaking for them,

it was a surreal moment for us all,

but when the tonal chaos of the exercise finally ended, the boys pulled out a harmonium and tabla and we filled the entire Gyanshala with another type of soul music.
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