Jyotsna Jha

An Ordinary Indian Middle Class Woman’s journey

‘This is what happens when you educate your daughters and give them too much independence’,my aunt had remarked. The comment came out of the blue, in the middle of an argument between us on the issue of someone having married outside our caste. ‘My sister and brother-in-law have no idea of what they are doing’, she continued. The reference was to my parents. Being the third daughter in a Brahmin family from Bihar in India, this remark, ironically, was what made me aware of my gender identity at an early age. But I was also an argumentative and assertive individual, not quite a “typical” girl, thanks to a very progressive and democratic father and a mother committed to educating her daughters and not letting them miss what she had missed, combined with enabling schooling experiences at every stage of my life. Whatever else I might have been found lacking in, I never lacked in confidence and, I hope, empathy.

My earliest memories of a school are not of my own – I used to accompany my brother – three years older – to his primary school. I have never talked to him about it , but I think he didn’t welcome this accompaniment, yet he held my hand while walking to school and let me do all the talking while he sat quiet in his class. He still remains a man of few words surrounded by three talkative sisters. My parents admitted me to the first English Medium school in our small town, Katihar. I didn’t want to go and on the very first day jumped from a speeding rickshaw and ran towards home, crying loudly. Behind me was the rickshaw driver – the poor fellow had to stop and explain to curious onlookers on the road so that they didn’t mistake him to be a child snatcher! Anyway, ultimately I grew so fond of my school and teachers, Ms. Bajaj, Mrs, Sahay, Ms. Sahni and Ms. Baweja ( all women!) that I wanted to go even on Sundays! But I was pulled out soon and moved to the nearby government school. My parents were supporting the education of many others in the household – my father’s brothers were in university, my sisters were sent off to boarding school – this was a government boarding school with low tuition fee but residential charges had to be paid. And a cousin, roughly of my age, had joined us for her education. We were both admitted to the same class in the government school as my parents could not afford sending both to a private school. In any case, they also did not see any perceptible difference in quality between private and government schools!

Almost all teachers in this school were male, and my class had about 30 boys and 10 girls. The number of girls gradually dwindled as we moved to higher classes and we were left with only three in class VIII as against 47 boys. This was the science section – the number of girls being slightly higher in the humanities section. I had asked my parents, and they had agreed, to let me continue in a co-educational school, unlike my sisters who had moved to girls-only school at the secondary level. I was a high performer and competed with the boys for the first few places in the class, and therefore my teachers liked me. But they also felt that I was I was a bit ‘too modern’ for my surroundings – having male friends, laughing loudly with them, having them home, receiving too many love letters, going out camping as part of the Scout/Guide activities – all this was not like being a good girl. Our home was full of books and magazines, and my father always engaged us siblings in discussions on wide ranging issues from politics to society.

I stopped enjoying science and moved to humanities after class 10. My father had been forced by his father to pursue science instead of history and he had resented this all his life. As a result, he always encouraged us to do what we liked. I got admitted to the Patna Women’s College choosing general humanities and later, Economics honours for my under-graduate degree. It was a novel experience – I had never been in the company of so many and only girls before. This meant a lot more mischief, a lot more bold misdeeds and a lot more camaraderie! I stayed in the college hostel where me and another friend, a successful lawyer now, used to be constantly ‘black-listed’ by the authorities by restricting our outings. But we knew how to beat that as well. I came in contact with some very good teachers – Ms.Papiya Ghosh, Ms.Kumudini Sinha and Ms.Muniba Sami. Ms. Sami gave a twist to the otherwise drab, moral science classes, by making us analyse different religions – I got my first lessons of exploratory and critical education there! Also, it was here that I picked up English – I had had my schooling till then in Hindi except for the first three years. It was much more enriching in a government run, Hindi medium school, a private, English medium school could have never matched this.

After completing my under-graduation from the college and then a Master’s in Economics from Patna University, I joined for my research, Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU), a premier university in the country especially for the social sciences. This university was a great learning place as there was hardly any issue on earth that we didn’t debate while there – we had the opportunity to listen to and interact with a wide cross section of people – activists, politicians, academics, artists. It was a politically and intellectually vibrant place – what a university is supposed to be! I remain indebted to my supervisor, Prof. Tapas Majumadar and his wife, Gauri di, a primary school teacher – I learnt a lot from both.

After getting my degree and a brief stint with the electronic media, I chose to work with government of India’s education programme instead of opting to become an academic in a research institute. I am happy for having chosen this path. While I continued with research, working with teachers, community groups, government functionaries at various levels and international agencies taught me a lot – something that wouldn’t have happened, had I joined a research institute. I moved on when I felt the job was becoming repetitive, and free lanced combining with some independent research before joining as adviser to the Commonwealth Secretariat in London.

Four years in London and work with a number of Commonwealth countries across the globe widened my experiences and taught me to see things from varying perspectives! The Commonwealth is known as an association of English speaking nations – though many newcomers are not necessarily English speaking, and not necessarily a former British colony. That apart, a majority of the member countries do have a shared colonial past, as reflected in their education system and bureaucratic set-up. However, I got my first shock when I saw English being the medium of instruction at the primary school level in my first school visit to an African country, something uncommon in Asia. My first hand exposure to the very similar human experiences and relations across the globe, whether it relates to gender images and practices; sharp social, economic and educational disparities; stigma and discrimination when it comes to HIV, and other similar issues, was a truly moving and humbling experience. And so was the very English humility and their ability to laugh at themselves, their respect for law and faith in democracy. I am back now in my country – working independently on equity issues in education – within and outside India. My journey, I feel, is that of an ordinary, Indian middle class woman – nothing more, nothing less! I may be a little bit luckier than many others in terms of opportunities and in the kind of parents, teachers and husband I have had!