Swayam Seekhi / Self Learning

by Eureka Khong

I enter. Ten new faces. We exchange quick handshakes and hugs and seconds later, I find myself seated amidst an on-going group discussion:

Girl: Would it be fair to say then, that You believe learning only happens in a set environment? That it doesn’t happen when we are for example: walking on the street, riding the bus, laughing?

Boy1: No. That’s not what I meant. What I’m trying to say is that, when we as a group venture out, being together is important. Understanding and being aware of each others’ emotions is also important. It may require for one of us to compromise, but sustaining the healthy rapport requires ‘understanding’ to be on a two-way street.

A variation of such points of view go back and forth a couple of times, when someone interjects: perhaps you’d like to share with the rest of us, a moment from your trip when you really enjoyed yourselves as a group?

Boy1: Well, the time we all decided to trek up a hill… I mean, she was super enthusiastic and her excitement was infectious. Even if initially hesitant, seeing her so eager made us want to join in and it was a good decision. We clicked a lot of selfies.

Boy2: Yeah, we exchanged wrist-bands with each other, which we had bought in the town earlier. Not realising then, that it was indeed Friendship Day!

My first lesson from these individuals happened in under 10 minutes of being with them: Communication — Conflict resolution — Team building — Friendship.

Zoom out and you notice the above conversation happened in Hindi. A little further away and you notice the floor, which is carpeted with thin cotton mattresses on which we are seated or lying down. You’ll see a pile of new books somewhere in the middle, covering topics such as design, aquaponics and natural materials, and wires all across for laptops. Further back, and you notice the rectangular shape of the room, its damp walls in need of a fresh coat of paint; the fans are not up on the ceiling yet and an air cooler provides the only respite from the 32°c afternoon heat.

Step back a little more and you are out on the main street, it’s about 3m wide and curious neighbourhood kids are watching. A six year old girl holds her ten month old baby brother; she is barefoot but somehow the tarmac heat doesn’t seem to bother her. Its afternoon, perhaps she should be in school but her parents are both working in the fields and baby brother needs supervision.

We are in a village called Thakurganj in Bihar. The last internet sensation this State churned out, was the interview of its ‘Political Science topper’ claiming the subject is about cooking. But we are also amidst these individuals in their early 20s, whose idea of learning has nothing to do with mark-sheets.

They are self learners — Swayam Seekhi(s).

And in this quest for learning, their conversations have no set rules, it’s normal to introduce the concept of global warming and environmental migration or nutritional values of food. So much so, that the team chooses to experiment with food for the week and cooks up a meal without carbohydrates — perhaps a first in their entire solid-food intake life; just as its okay to share a personal turmoil or break into activities that involve participatory songs such as: Hathi ke bacche gol gol… (x2) …

“Do we ever pause to question what it means to learn? Or consider for a moment, that if we remove all people and traditional mediums of knowledge from this earth and find only yourself in a room, the room will teach you something? That the process of learning just never stops or should never stop?”

I’ve been writing for a couple of hours and realise that, all I’ve done here, is paraphrasing the individuals at Project Potential. I scroll up to see where I can put in an opinion that I can claim mine… but all attempts fall flat. It makes me realise that in this weekend with them, I most certainly, learnt more than I contributed.

And in this realisation that was actually quite obvious all along, I deserve to tell myself off, or in a Swayam seekhi’s manner of expression: slap myself on the forehead and say out loud: “DHAT TEREKI!”