Author: Supriya Dravid
Publication: India Today
Date: September 12, 2005
Introduction: At Sam Singh's institute, students,
all girls, are paid Rs 10 a day for attending classes
In the opening lines of Charles Dickens' David
Copperfield, the eponymous hero wonders whether he would turn out to be the
hero of his own life. It is a question every individual must ask himself.
Sam Singh, 65, did. After flipping through the script of his life, he reinvented
it. He threw the lid on a cushy suburban existence in the United States and
moved home to Bulandshahar after 35 years. "It was time for my second
act," says Singh.
Employing the metaphoric relevance of ancestral
wisdom in today's context, Singh set up the Pardada Pardadi Educational Society
in 2000 for girls from underprivileged families through personal savings and
donations. By borrowing its vision "from the teachings of our forefathers"
the school smartly tackles issues such as gender bias. Believing that schooling
must never interfere with education, the students here are given skill-based
education that they can cash in on later in life. "We teach the girls
to create, produce and market home furnishings using appliqué, zardosi,
quilting and block printing," says Singh. However, what makes this school
different is that it pays students Rs 10 a day to attend classes. "Money
is the only incentive for education. We cater to the extremely low strata
of society," explains Singh while admonishing a student whose parents
have removed her sibling from the school. Students can withdraw the money
they have earned after they finish Class X. They are given books, clothes,
food, bicycles and even medical treatment. Cautious about a depending child
becoming a demanding one, Singh draws the line somewhere. He puts a student
under observation to know whether she is keen on learning. The money is then
transferred directly into a joint account that is created for the mother and
the daughter. "This ensures that parents have a stake in the account
to solve dowry issues," he says.
The ride so far has had its share of bumps
but Singh is industrious. He has proved that anything is possible. Four years
ago the dropout rate stood at 32 per cent. Today, it has gone down to 5 per
cent and he has 340 students. "I am aiming for 5,000 students in four
years," he says.
As he clutches on to a dog-eared copy of V.S.
Naipaul's Magic Seeds, the book's title ironically describes what Singh is
doing. He is, after all, sowing the seeds for what may grow into magical dividends.
