On what is diminishing in our school system

I do not believe that our present relations of faith, those bonds which animate our acts in a society we presently inhabit and make, will allow us to make very much progress today, if for nothing else because of the tentativeness which characterises our relations, a tentativeness which expresses itself without temerity, yet presented in a time when this can no more be thought of as a compliment.

A whisper to a neighbour is sadly reduced to the moment of creation because a father or a son no longer find the courage in themselves to talk across a table. This has been the degradation of our article of faith.

Yet bonds are never between merely this two, no matter how sacred. What is it for instance which allows a pupil to trust a teacher, when they have nothing in common, when they may not even speak the same language? What is it except the faith that this person may be here to pass on to me instruction, that the said instruction was deemed to be necessary, and in the midst of decision, this person will take my own position into consideration when attempting to present a point of view? This, sadly is an aspect, which can no longer be taken for granted, in among other spheres - between teacher and pupil, and such a relation will not serve our cause.

It is well and easy to present what is no longer present and many a mournful dirge is characterized by such a lament. As paltry as such a beginning may be - it is necessary, for the apprehension of another possibility hinges on the presentation of what is not immanent in this one, the ability to point this out is the holy right of a pupil, and if we, as members of whatever people, fail to recognize in their call, not merely petulance, peevishness, irresponsibility, and conceited trickery - but also an objective evaluation of the view of a present state of affairs, witnessed by those who are destined to preside over it - it is us who may have forgotten as to what our charges and their demands are.

A school, a family, a dinner table. Such organizations, their solidity, form something of the texture of our relations, yet when such sites lie silent with trepidation - we might as well be strangers on a train who would not even trust their passenger with their ticket as they go to the washroom. And if this is all that is to be said of who we are to each other, I suggest we recognize ourselves as runaways smuggling ourselves abound a goods train, on a journey with just our secrets for company - perhaps stored and measured out by the depth of our ale. And, in this scene, without romance, without adventure; in other words where spirit counts for so little - why would one even share?

The train would go on, but the destinations would seem increasingly insignificant. It may even make for an anxious ride, without the rest we so require for the constitution of ourselves in respite from our labors. Further, nobody would notice who steps in and who steps out of the carriages we have arranged in our mind under the rubric of family, nuptial relations and other professional engagements. In another part of the country, among paths that have existed on dust roads before tarmac, the last postman who delivers the mail would be diagnosed with diabetes, by a doctor who probably bought a sandwich from a joint which saved on a pickle and two slices of ham.

Sunday, 3rd April, 2022, Hyderabad