Many students, deprived of learning, became potential recruits for militants. The situation is not so grim today, but the lessons of the past must not be forgotten and efforts must be made to restore faith in the education system.
Beneath a tranquil sky in the deceptive calm of a stunning picturesque landscape, little children, clutching their textbooks, squat on the bare ground in the open-air ‘classroom’ of their Government school, waiting for a teacher to turn up.
Keerni in Poonch district of Jammu, is one of many villages severely affected by the decades-old conflict at the north-western border. But among the worst casualties are the dreams of little children, their aspirations amid the harsh reality of their world.
Located at the base of the mountain range, Keerni is particularly susceptible to firing from across the border. The worst year, villagers recall, was 2000, when in the aftermath of the Kargil War, hostilities surged to unprecedented levels and the village was evacuated for security reasons. It was reclaimed by the Indian forces but habitation was permitted only in 2011.
To check cross-border illegal activities, the village was fenced, with high security check in place at the gates (technically called the Anti-Infiltration Obstacle System), that connect the village to the rest of the State and the country at large. The long years the village lay abandoned, ruined the little infrastructure it had had.
“There were two schools, a primary and a middle school. Both were destroyed, either blasted by militants or damaged in cross-border shelling. Neither has been reconstructed yet. Classes in the primary school, seldom held due to poor weather conditions or frequent absence of the teacher, are no good. Worse, this erratic exposure to education erodes the faith in its benefits. Students simply drop off”, informs Nazam Din Mir, one of the only two youth in this village to have completed their graduation. He is now pursuing a Masters degree, breaking stereotypes about the aspirations of the youth in this remote part of the country.
After the village was resettled, the middle school was shifted across the fence to Qasba. Students have to travel long distances and pass through stringent security checks to and from school. In the absence of female security guards at the fence, parents are reluctant to send their daughters to the school, underscoring the need for special focus on girls’ education.
The trend of educational institutions facing the brunt of violence is not new. It goes back to the early 1990s, when militants would burn the village schools and successfully create an atmosphere of fear that kept an entire generation away from learning. Several efforts of the Government were directed to restore faith in the education system among students and parents alike. Today, ramshackle buildings are being repaired, teacher-student ratios are improving, enrolment is rising as is the literacy rate. But problems persist.
Mohammad Bashir, a lecturer says, “The problem begins from the primary level. Although the teachers at the primary schools are locals, they share no empathy with their fellow villagers. The very sanctity of the education system is violated when teachers aim only for money and not for their pupils’ success.”
Villagers complain that teachers come to school only to collect their salaries. The appointed teachers have reportedly divided their work to suit their convenience. They take turns to come to school to mark their attendance. On an average, a teacher comes to school only once or twice a week.
“The children of these teachers are studying in renowned schools of the district. There should be a law that directs the Government school teachers to admit their children in Government schools only. This is the only way to make them work efficiently”, suggests Razia Begum of Chontra village.
The sensitivity towards education must come from the locals themselves. In the past, thousands of students, deprived of their basic right to education became potential recruits for militants The situation is not so grim today, but the lessons of the past must not be forgotten.
Rabia Kouser, the five-year-old daughter of Azam and Parveez Akhter, goes to her neighbour’s house everyday to do their household chores. She has been doing so for a while now. Her parents, who grew up in the years of militancy, were deprived of education. Their lack of awareness is unfortunately pushing their daughter towards a similar fate.
The conflict that affected the education system in the State has now taken a backseat. Sadly, other social ills have erupted to replace them: Child labour, unemployment, ignorance, depression and distrust of the Government continue to take a toll on the people in the border areas.
In this post-militancy phase, the reconciliation between the past and present is imperative. It may take several generations for the wounds to heal, but a sincere effort is necessary for a promising beginning. For a long time it has been considered the Government's task to promote this process, but it is equally important for communities to come forward, not only to demand their right but also to help themselves.
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