Namita Waikar

Sharmila Joshi

Editor

Binaifer Bharucha

Photographs

Samyukta Shastri

large_01-IMG_5958-NW-Skipping_rope_songs_and_a_game_of_cricket_.jpg

medium_01-IMG_5958-NW-Skipping_rope_songs_and_a_game_of_cricket_.jpg

small_01-IMG_5958-NW-Skipping_rope_songs_and_a_game_of_cricket_.jpg

thumbnail_01-IMG_5958-NW-Skipping_rope_songs_and_a_game_of_cricket_.jpg

01-IMG_5958-NW-Skipping_rope_songs_and_a_game_of_cricket_.jpg

It is their laughter that catches our attention. Some
girls are skipping with ropes, several boys are engrossed in a game of cricket,
some children are running and a few stand aside alone, watching their
schoolmates on the large playground. 

As we wind up our day of shooting and recording for
the Grindmill Songs Project of PARI in Daund taluka of Pune district, we are
drawn by the laughter of the children of the zilla parishad primary school in Yeole vasti, a hamlet of Malthan
village. 

A game of cricket is on, played with some passion,
and the boy at the batting end sees us approaching, armed with cameras, but
quickly turns his eyes to the bowler and whacks the ball. The fielders run to
fetch it. 

A few girls gather around us. They need little
encouragement to sing, though they are a bit shy at first.  They look at each other for reassurance and to
confirm that they’ve got the song right. Jitendra Maid from the PARI team
teaches the kids a game that involves singing and dancing, and they form a
circle, repeating every line and action he demonstrates.

“We let them play for an hour after all the
study periods are over,” says Sunanda Jagdale, their teacher.  The school principal, Sandeep Rasaal, shows
us the office and the classroom. “We also have a computer and we are renovating
and repainting the school building, please help us any way you can,” he says
and takes us to an adjoining shed. He calls it their ‘modern’ kitchen – it is
clean, with grains neatly stored in tins, not in sacks – where they prepare the
mid-day meals.

The school has 43 students – 21 girls and
22 boys, ages ranging from 6 to 10.  Each
class from 1 to 4 has about 10 students. Most of them are from Malthan, a few
are from neighbouring Mugaon village. “There is a high school in Malthan with
classes up to the tenth standard. That is where most of these students will go
after they pass from this primary school,” Rasaal tells us.A new classroom is getting ready – it is in
some disarray, with cans of paint lying on the floor. In the far corner, a
child sleeps in a hammock made from an old saree.  “That is my younger daughter. Our older daughter
also studies in this school,” adds Sunanda. The principal and the teacher are
married; they run this school together with an evident sense of pride and hopes
of making it better. The couple make up the entire teaching staff. They live in
Daund town, about 65 kilometres away, and drive to school every day in their
car.

Meanwhile, the young cricketers are
fighting over who will be the next batter. One quick thinker tells the others
that they have an outside audience and need to behave themselves. This resolves
the fight and averts the imminent hand-to-hand combat.

With the play hour over at around 3 p.m.,
the teacher calls out to the children to rearrange the furniture, clear the
classroom of their bags and water bottles, and put back the skipping ropes, bats
and balls in their assigned places. Everybody pitches in. Girls and boys go quietly
about the tasks and gather back on the ground, standing in a neat column
formation. Then, solemnly, they sing Vande
Mataram – this is a part of their daily routine.

The final slogan of ‘Bharat Mata ki jai’ goes a bit off-sync and then haywire, irking
the teacher. Jagdale tells them to repeat it properly and calls out to a senior
student to take the lead. The second attempt goes well and the assembly is
dispersed. Only to gather around the
principal with the serious question: “Sir, what is our homework for today?”

 “We
have learnt to count today. Write down all numbers up to 100 or 500, according
to the level you have learnt,” says Rasaal. The numbers represent work for
different levels of students – all classes for all ages are held in a single
room.

“Sir, we learned the numbers up to 1 lakh, so
we should write till 1 lakh, no?” comes a question from an older student,
obviously from Class 4.

Parents arrive and
some students leave with them, riding pillion on bicycles, scooters or
motorbikes. Others sit on the ground waiting to be picked up. We say goodbye,
taking with us the joy that the children brought to our world that day.

Skipping rope, songs and a game of cricket

ஸ்கிப்பிங் கயிறு, கிரிக்கெட் ஆட்டம் மற்றும் பாடல்கள்

ସ୍କିପିଂ ଦଉଡି, ଗୀତ ଏବଂ କ୍ରିକେଟ୍ ଖେଳ

दोरीवरच्या उड्या, गाणी आणि क्रिकेट

गुड़ियों के गीत और खेलकूद में मस्त स्कूली बच्चे

اسکول میں بچوں کے کھیل اور موج مستی

লাফ-দড়ি, গানবাজনা, ক্রিকেট খেলা

ৰছীখেল, গান আৰু ক্ৰিকেট

Malthan

At present, we can only accept donations in Indian rupees by Indian citizens. All donations made to the CounterMedia Trust are eligible for exemption under Section 80G of the Income Tax Act, 1961. Here is a copy of our exemption certificate.


India is bigger than New Delhi. And people need to know more about the rest of this vast nation.


Younger, media-saturated generations are growing up knowing little about their country, but a lot about the elites of a few metros and towns. For a narrowly-owned, commercially-driven media, the dumbing down of a nation is part of standard operating procedure. The last available data of the Centre for Media Studies (CMS, Delhi) show us that reports from New Delhi account for 66 per cent of news on the front pages of major dailies. The CMS data also found that just about 0.24 per cent of front page news came out of rural India. The TV channels are not much better.PARI exists to change that.We are a non-profit organisation. We publish under creative commons, and do not charge readers a subscription fee or put-up advertisements. Nothing is behind a paywall and we are completely free-to-access by anyone. We guard our independence and receive no direct grants from governments and corporations, nor any funding that could dictate our content. So, we are dependent on volunteer labour, donations from individuals, foundations and institutions that see value in independent and free media.PARI is changing the way Indian journalism reports and documents the rural.India is more than the elite of a few metros and towns. We report on rural lives and livelihoods, languages, communities, migrants and more. We need your help to pull off this most ambitious of Indian journalistic endeavours. The scale of this effort costs money. Donate generously - and spread the word about PARI.&nbsp;

Donate FAQs


Let’s get you acquainted

Welcome to PARI

All our content is, and will forever be free to consume. If you enjoy our work, you can support us by becoming a volunteer or by donating to help fund our work.

Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

Skipping rope, songs and a game of cricket

A chance visit to a primary school in Malthan village of Pune district during the children’s play hour leaves us with their sense of joy

Related stories

A rain-scented walk in Sivagangai

Living on ravaged land

Biswas and the bamboos on his bike

Recycling energy, Godda style

Bhadels of Goa

Pookadai: still throbbing with morning life

Koli Kadlas

Malnourishment high among children of migrants: study

Wheels of the rural Indian West

Living Under a Red Cloud in Bellary

Vedla – earrings of the Maher community

Dreaming of water, drowning in debt

Kali: the dancer and his dreams

Farmer's diet worse than a convict's

In Yavatmal, life goes on

Suicides are about the living, not the dead

Death of a carpenter

Hoisa Shigmo!

Women farmers: weaving a life in Anantapur

Defiant in Dhinkia

Spice and all that's nice

Kerala's Green Army

The ‘jugaad’ not-a-mobile

Health as someone else's wealth

Calibrating in a Kudumbashree assembly unit