Seemantini dhuru biography sample

In conversation with Simantini Dhuru and Ratna Pathak Shah, who were brought together by the altogether fantastic Avehi Abacus, an initiative empowering thousands of children by creating a supplementary curriculum in schools, about striking childhood remembrances and learning experiences.

Documentary filmmaker, activist and researcher Simantini Dhuru loves Van Gogh, is inspired by Ismat Chugtai and Pandita Ramabai, believes she overuses the words ‘justice’, ‘humility’ and ‘transparency’ in conversations, and loves the Marathi phrase ‘Swata Melya shivay Sarg Disat Nahi’ (You can’t attain heaven without dying).

Renowned actress, teacher and learner Ratna Pathak Shah talks about ‘etiquette classes’, the magic of Christmas discoveries, what it meant to have an uncle who ran a children’s club and library, and living in a ‘nation of storytellers’.

What memories of learning and discovering have stayed with you from your childhood?

Simantini Dhuru: My school presented many opportunities – learning was always by discovery, and we were encouraged to find our own special ways. It was crucial that my mother saw value in this and made sure we went to such a school; she let us make our own mistakes and find new meanings through them.

As a child one is not conscious of such things, but I can now say that although the school was rather different – I developed a love for horticulture there – the textbooks and syllabus were extremely limiting. However, since I started working with Abacus, there have been innumerable moments.I have a rekindled interest in geography and botany. I wish I could take time off to farm and, of course, cook the food I grow!

Rata Pathak Shah: Learning of all sorts – particularly the non-academic kind – was given great importance in my family. My dad was a deeply curious person capable of passing on his excitement about things; he managed to involve me in all sorts of activities from reading maps to washing the car. He made everything fun, and that has stayed with me always. On the other hand there was my aunt Shantaji, who turned any conversation into a trip of discovery. Or Dubey, who visited my house often. Observing his passion for his work and the borderline madness that infected him frightened and excited me simultaneously!

As a matter of fact, school doesn’t trigger any special memories connected with discovery. Of course, those were the days when school didn’t only mean marks, but all the same my school was not terribly interested in creating anything other than “well behaved ladies”. We had hardly any games, and co-curricular activities meant etiquette classes, laundry and cooking. Yes, we had classes on such subjects! So all in all, my education happened outside school. I remember feeling, even as a young girl, that school should mean more than just books and rules.

One of the most wonderful experiences of discovery was when a huge consignment of books arrived at our library in Mumbai – my uncle ran a small children’s club called Balodyan in Matunga, and an Australian charity had sent a 5’ x 5’ box full of BOOKS! We spent a whole summer holiday sorting, cataloguing, arranging and of course, reading! Bliss.

Could you narrate a short story that you were told or a play you saw as a child that endures in your consciousness?

SD: My maternal grandmother was full of stories – real and fictitious. And plays I saw too many – my parents were avid theatre goers, so I saw most Marathi plays during the 70s and 80s with them. As a child I remember a performance of Gadhvacha Langna at Rang Bhavan. It is not a children’s play; it’s a folk-performance made memorable by Dadu Indulikar, Dada Kondke and Nilu Phule. Later of course, as a young adult Hamidabai Chi Kothi, Shantata! Court Chalu Aahe, Gashiram Kotwal, and Hayavadana persisted in my memory.

RPS: I wish there was one defining story/play. My mom believed in dragging me everywhere so that I saw all sorts of things and there is a montage of images that flits through my head. A puppet play that came from Australia I think – called Little Fellow Bindi – there were huge puppets and superb lighting. A late night performance of a folk play – Bhavai maybe – with much thumping music. A Gujarati melodrama – my mother being thrown out of the house by a wicked mother-in-law. A children’s play in which I acted – Vijay ane Vadlo (Jack and the Beanstalk) – the room in which all us kids were getting dressed and I was trying to get my hair to stay in a bouffant, without backcombing! Dance of all sorts – a special memory is that of Shanta Rao in a no-zari deep red temple sari with almost no jewellery – none of the frills of a Bharatnatyam performance – making a most dramatic entry onto stage. I was mesmerized by her presence, stark and energetic and so different from all the other pretty dancers I had seen before.

When did you discover this confluence of interests between documentary filmmaking/theatre and children’s education? Was there a particular incident that sparked your interest in education?

SD: Ironically, I was hoping to take up the Abacus work so that I could have more time for independent film-making! I was then working in the media production department of the Tata Institute of Social Sciences, and I met Shanta Gandhi for the first time. She talked about the curriculum outline of the Abacus Project. It was a listing of themes with their interconnections, and it was like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together. I realised that what I wanted to do through my kind of film–making and the educational work proposed by Shantaji were actually harmonious.

Documentary films in India have very limited outreach, but similar concerns organised as an educational experience will reach many teachers and children. The avenues of outreach will be sustainable; continuous, dynamic. Besides, it will be possible to work with many who don’t think exactly alike. Equally importantly, working with children is a very optimistic process as they may grow up to change things for the better.

RPS:  My school saw no value in anything that did not produce a “lady”, and so sports and theatre were of no consequence to them. Even then, I felt that this approach was completely wrong, because I knew what theatre and the arts add to a life. The person who impressed this on me the most was my mom’s friend Aunty Elizabeth, who came visiting from Delhi in the winter and made Christmas time magical for me, turning every day into one of discovery. Only later did I realise that she was Elizabeth Gauba, the German educationist who ran one of the first innovative schools out of her house in Hailey Road in Delhi.

And then there was Shantaji and Bal Bhavan in Delhi again. These were people with ideas about education – ideas that seem modern even today. Yash Pal used to teach at Aunty Elizabeth’s school for a while and was a close friend of my mother’s. He made science come alive – he once told me that he’d been asked by a young boy why coloured glass bangles turned into a white powder when they were crushed. I’ve forgotten the answer, but I remember the excitement of thinking about the question. I knew that I felt none of this excitement in school – and that was wrong, wasn’t it?! I spent nearly eight hours a day in that place!

Can you recall an interesting interaction had with a child, discussing the arts?

SD: With my work responsibility in Abacus, I don’t really get a chance to spend much time with children. With my niece, nephew, and friends’ children I have had plenty of interesting moments. My niece and nephew used to express their opinions through drawings and have very unique, out of the box explanation for the way they drew things. Ratna’s Vivan for a while used to illustrate stories almost like a shot breakdown! He used to explain why a circle, a dot, or a rectangle were an adult, a child, a car because for him the camera position – top angle in this case – was the vantage point. But as childhood recedes and school arts teaching takes over, many children lose interest in drawing.

RPS: A young man I used to tell stories to had a very strong visual instinct. I remember his teacher telling me that he refuses to write on the blackboard when invited to. He prefers to draw out the words – a tiger walking out of a cage to represent the word ‘free’!

When I used to read out a story to him, he often made me stop midway so that he could draw out that part of the story before hearing the rest. Needless to say, this young man always had trouble with his schoolteachers!

What story taught by the Avehi Abacus curriculum has struck a chord with you personally?

SD: Babaji Ki Langot. It’s a story that has a feel of a fable. It’s about the fact that all events around us have consequences, and we are responsible for what happens around us.

RPS: I really like our first story – Emperor Akbar Gets an Education. It says everything it needs to say in an interesting and succinct way. But there are many others that do their job equally well. A story is the most powerful tool in a teacher’s bag of tricks. We are a nation of storytellers – and isn’t it a pity that we produce hardly any original stuff in the arts today?

Interviewed by Tanvi Shah.

To experience first hand the narrated experiences of Simantini Dhuru and Ratna Pathak Shah, and to hear them talk about “Confluence: A Journey through Art to Education”,  join us at 5 pm on July 12, 2015 at Bhau Daji Lad Museum in Byculla. This session is part of Junoon’s Mumbai Local series.