Every year, Asha Deep School pulls off probably the biggest and fattest school program in Varanasi (Banaras) on one of the most popular ghats on the Ganges River. And I got to sit in the middle of it.
The school's program was a couple of days ago. Traditionally, every school in India (mostly the prestigious ones) have a show of their kids doing music, art, dance... translation.... BOOOORIIIIIING.
But Asha Deep's annual program is one of the most over-the-top shows in Banaras: fire, loud music, hilarious drama, fire, unicycles, juggling (did I mention FIRE?) right on Assi ghat. So it attracts at least a thousand people. (Am I exaggerating? I don't think so.) The kids are trained by a circus group from Europe called Performers Without Borders (PWB), which raises the cool factor of their annual day show by about a million compared to other schools. (Did I mention FIRE?)
The school's vice principle, Siddharth, was worried that the kids wouldn't be ready. He had run around and around the city just to get permission for the kids to do the program on the large new ghat area. Of course the day before the program, we saw that someone else had put up huge bamboo scaffolding on the new ghat area. Siddharth then pleaded with the police, but they said that since it was a government program that put up the scaffolding, they could not take it down. Ugh, for the first time the government decides to set up something early. Now, we had to scrunch the stage onto the the old ghat.
But this brought on another problem. The old ghat is the site of the nightly aarti (worship of the Ganges using fire). Our program was planned for 5 to 8PM. Aarti runs from 6:30 to 7:15PM. So, who got assigned to make a slideshow during our 45 minute aarti break?
Me.
So I thrust myself into making of a slideshow/video. The goal: A fast-paced, silent 40-minute video of Asha Deep's greatest moments that keeps the audience in their seats. The product? Uh... a barely 20-minute video of whatever photos and spliced up old videos we could find that at times made you dizzy since clips were shifting and spinning in overdrive. It was perfect... if the whole audience had ADD. (Side note: We ended up showing it twice, meaning stopping our program twice, because the aarti pundit did not show up on time!)
It was approaching 5PM and the dance guru had not yet arrived. Siddharth frustrated said, "We are starting. We are going to start without him," even though the guru and our dancing students were the first act. Surprisingly, even with the craziness that is Banaras, Asha Deep's annual program on the age old Assi Ghat facing the sacred Ganges River starts nearly on time. Let's not talk about ending on time, but starting... they're pretty good at that.
The sound was up, the kids were on stage, out of nowhere the dance guru was on the tabla (Indian drum) and we were starting. They opened the stage curtain (which is something that usually no outdoor performance in India has--an actual stage curtain)... so as I was saying... the stage curtain opened and there were our girls all in beautiful, bright, shining, colorful saris and flowers in their hair and the guru struck the tabla, the girls struck the stage floor with their bell-chiming feet and we were off.
It was one performance after another with hardly a breath in between. Each performance was neither too long, nor too short. One thing I like about the Asha Deep's annual day show is that they choose songs that make the audience's hips move... maybe a bit too much. Like, is it kosher for Radha (the cohort of Krishna) to move her "sexy body"? Hmm.
Since the first time I saw Asha Deep's annual day performance on Assi a couple year's ago, I recognized the brilliance of it. Usually, annual programs are within a school's walls, so that it is exclusively for school faculty, students and their hobnob.
However unlike these exclusive schools, Asha Deep's kids come from slums where their lives are constantly on display; so Asha Deep's program puts the kids back into their element, but this time not as poor kids on the street, but confident students in the coolest annual day show ever. This, I believe, was the brain child of Asha Deep's principal, Connie. These kids perform in front of hundreds of not only their family and friends, but tourists, ghat workers, their neighbors, foreigners, police, priests, etc. In front of everyone, they show what they can accomplish. And, it's impressive.
One of the small highlights for me was one of my classroom headaches--Suraj. Suraj is one of the most talkative students in school. He just can't stop talking. I suddenly got slotted to teach 8th grade English. (I'll talk more about it in another post.) Suraj is in 8th grade. Compared to the other students, Suraj's English isn't very good, so he's spewing out Hindi left and right during my "English" class.
I had to put my foot down with him. (OK, if you know me, putting my "foot down" actually means, like, not smiling or not letting the kids eat me for breakfast... maybe just nibble me for breakfast.) We did get through the lessons though.
After class I talked with Siddharth and the issue of Suraj came up. I mentioned that he's a bit of a handful. Siddharth chuckled a bit as if he was glad. I looked at him funny. He said, "You know, I let Suraj play around in class a bit when I teach. Suraj told me once that at home in the slum he has to manage the chow mein stall. At school he likes to play around because it's the only chance for him to act like a kid."
Ack! My heart hurt at that very moment.
It was Suraj's time to recite a poem on stage at the annual program. The hilarious and confident former students, Anil and Kaushal, announced the next act, calling Suraj "chow mein walla" (the chow mein man).
"Now Suraj will recite a poem," announced Anil.
"Suraj? The one who sells chow mein on the corner?" interjected Kaushal.
Suraj appeared from behind the curtain. Lights were on him. He recited a poem by Kaka Hathrasi. Here's my unofficial translation slathered with liberal-er than liberal poetic license:
Suraj also played the "hero" of a play brilliantly put together by the vice principle, Siddharth. This skit was a topsy-turvy Bollywood drama where the "hero" and the "heroine's" roles were reversed. The girl "eve-teased" (cat called) the boy on the street. The mother of the girl went to meet the boy, asking him to walk around the room and show her his fingers and feet. (I thought this was an over-the-top gesture for the play, but according to my friend, yes, parents of the boy do at times ask the potential bride-to-be to show her hands and feet and walk around the room in real life!) The mother of the bride then demanded a dowry, later almost shutting down the wedding because the dowry wasn't enough. The girl arrived with her party of females dancing down the street to the boy's house.
As the wedding ceremony came to an end, the father of the boy told his son that he no longer belonged to his family; that the boy must not shame his home, but be faithful to the traditions. The boy then wailed, crying, telling his father that he would do what was necessary. The audience was already on the edge of their seats, chuckling and smiling from ear to ear. I noticed that mothers and women were particularly interested as they crowded forward, squatting down in the "blocked off" front area for a closer look. When the boy started crying, the whole audience burst out in laughter.
The boy ended up at the girl's house with his wife and mother-in-law constantly barking commands at him. In the end, it was Suraj on the floor with broom in hand, saying, "My life is now a living hell."
With all sincerity, Suraj then explained that this play was just for fun, but he asked the audience to imagine if it really was this way; and actually, how it is this way for many women in our society.
Not bad for a chow mein walla.
If there was one "mantra" of the night it was that Asha Deep School doesn't just teach kids how to be better students but how to be better people.
And this is the brilliance of the annual day show of Asha Deep.
It proves to their parents, neighbors, relatives and friends that these kids are not just poor, slum dwellers, but they do have a chance to be more.
And it shows the audience, that they themselves can be more, too.
 |
| First act, a kattak dance, at Asha Deep School's annual day show on Assi Ghat |
The school's program was a couple of days ago. Traditionally, every school in India (mostly the prestigious ones) have a show of their kids doing music, art, dance... translation.... BOOOORIIIIIING.
But Asha Deep's annual program is one of the most over-the-top shows in Banaras: fire, loud music, hilarious drama, fire, unicycles, juggling (did I mention FIRE?) right on Assi ghat. So it attracts at least a thousand people. (Am I exaggerating? I don't think so.) The kids are trained by a circus group from Europe called Performers Without Borders (PWB), which raises the cool factor of their annual day show by about a million compared to other schools. (Did I mention FIRE?)
The school's vice principle, Siddharth, was worried that the kids wouldn't be ready. He had run around and around the city just to get permission for the kids to do the program on the large new ghat area. Of course the day before the program, we saw that someone else had put up huge bamboo scaffolding on the new ghat area. Siddharth then pleaded with the police, but they said that since it was a government program that put up the scaffolding, they could not take it down. Ugh, for the first time the government decides to set up something early. Now, we had to scrunch the stage onto the the old ghat.
But this brought on another problem. The old ghat is the site of the nightly aarti (worship of the Ganges using fire). Our program was planned for 5 to 8PM. Aarti runs from 6:30 to 7:15PM. So, who got assigned to make a slideshow during our 45 minute aarti break?
Me.
So I thrust myself into making of a slideshow/video. The goal: A fast-paced, silent 40-minute video of Asha Deep's greatest moments that keeps the audience in their seats. The product? Uh... a barely 20-minute video of whatever photos and spliced up old videos we could find that at times made you dizzy since clips were shifting and spinning in overdrive. It was perfect... if the whole audience had ADD. (Side note: We ended up showing it twice, meaning stopping our program twice, because the aarti pundit did not show up on time!)
It was approaching 5PM and the dance guru had not yet arrived. Siddharth frustrated said, "We are starting. We are going to start without him," even though the guru and our dancing students were the first act. Surprisingly, even with the craziness that is Banaras, Asha Deep's annual program on the age old Assi Ghat facing the sacred Ganges River starts nearly on time. Let's not talk about ending on time, but starting... they're pretty good at that.
The sound was up, the kids were on stage, out of nowhere the dance guru was on the tabla (Indian drum) and we were starting. They opened the stage curtain (which is something that usually no outdoor performance in India has--an actual stage curtain)... so as I was saying... the stage curtain opened and there were our girls all in beautiful, bright, shining, colorful saris and flowers in their hair and the guru struck the tabla, the girls struck the stage floor with their bell-chiming feet and we were off.
It was one performance after another with hardly a breath in between. Each performance was neither too long, nor too short. One thing I like about the Asha Deep's annual day show is that they choose songs that make the audience's hips move... maybe a bit too much. Like, is it kosher for Radha (the cohort of Krishna) to move her "sexy body"? Hmm.
Since the first time I saw Asha Deep's annual day performance on Assi a couple year's ago, I recognized the brilliance of it. Usually, annual programs are within a school's walls, so that it is exclusively for school faculty, students and their hobnob.
However unlike these exclusive schools, Asha Deep's kids come from slums where their lives are constantly on display; so Asha Deep's program puts the kids back into their element, but this time not as poor kids on the street, but confident students in the coolest annual day show ever. This, I believe, was the brain child of Asha Deep's principal, Connie. These kids perform in front of hundreds of not only their family and friends, but tourists, ghat workers, their neighbors, foreigners, police, priests, etc. In front of everyone, they show what they can accomplish. And, it's impressive.
One of the small highlights for me was one of my classroom headaches--Suraj. Suraj is one of the most talkative students in school. He just can't stop talking. I suddenly got slotted to teach 8th grade English. (I'll talk more about it in another post.) Suraj is in 8th grade. Compared to the other students, Suraj's English isn't very good, so he's spewing out Hindi left and right during my "English" class.
I had to put my foot down with him. (OK, if you know me, putting my "foot down" actually means, like, not smiling or not letting the kids eat me for breakfast... maybe just nibble me for breakfast.) We did get through the lessons though.
After class I talked with Siddharth and the issue of Suraj came up. I mentioned that he's a bit of a handful. Siddharth chuckled a bit as if he was glad. I looked at him funny. He said, "You know, I let Suraj play around in class a bit when I teach. Suraj told me once that at home in the slum he has to manage the chow mein stall. At school he likes to play around because it's the only chance for him to act like a kid."
Ack! My heart hurt at that very moment.
It was Suraj's time to recite a poem on stage at the annual program. The hilarious and confident former students, Anil and Kaushal, announced the next act, calling Suraj "chow mein walla" (the chow mein man).
"Now Suraj will recite a poem," announced Anil.
"Suraj? The one who sells chow mein on the corner?" interjected Kaushal.
Suraj appeared from behind the curtain. Lights were on him. He recited a poem by Kaka Hathrasi. Here's my unofficial translation slathered with liberal-er than liberal poetic license:
Moving in a stopped train, eating choo-choo
Donation of rupees ten, a nice seat for you
Every stop this ritual offering to Lord Ticket T.
All hail, all praise to dishonesty!
Unemployment, starvation, inflation poursThe poem, of course, went on, but you get the idea. Since Suraj served every line with a side dish of sarcastic wit, the audience laughed after every stanza. Not too bad for a kid who serves Chinese food on the street.
Beaten, worn are these words, stop the noise
In this moment, what we need are people's blood and pleas
All hail, all praise to dishonesty!
 |
| Suraj on stage, reciting the poem |
Suraj also played the "hero" of a play brilliantly put together by the vice principle, Siddharth. This skit was a topsy-turvy Bollywood drama where the "hero" and the "heroine's" roles were reversed. The girl "eve-teased" (cat called) the boy on the street. The mother of the girl went to meet the boy, asking him to walk around the room and show her his fingers and feet. (I thought this was an over-the-top gesture for the play, but according to my friend, yes, parents of the boy do at times ask the potential bride-to-be to show her hands and feet and walk around the room in real life!) The mother of the bride then demanded a dowry, later almost shutting down the wedding because the dowry wasn't enough. The girl arrived with her party of females dancing down the street to the boy's house.
As the wedding ceremony came to an end, the father of the boy told his son that he no longer belonged to his family; that the boy must not shame his home, but be faithful to the traditions. The boy then wailed, crying, telling his father that he would do what was necessary. The audience was already on the edge of their seats, chuckling and smiling from ear to ear. I noticed that mothers and women were particularly interested as they crowded forward, squatting down in the "blocked off" front area for a closer look. When the boy started crying, the whole audience burst out in laughter.
The boy ended up at the girl's house with his wife and mother-in-law constantly barking commands at him. In the end, it was Suraj on the floor with broom in hand, saying, "My life is now a living hell."
With all sincerity, Suraj then explained that this play was just for fun, but he asked the audience to imagine if it really was this way; and actually, how it is this way for many women in our society.
Not bad for a chow mein walla.
If there was one "mantra" of the night it was that Asha Deep School doesn't just teach kids how to be better students but how to be better people.
And this is the brilliance of the annual day show of Asha Deep.
It proves to their parents, neighbors, relatives and friends that these kids are not just poor, slum dwellers, but they do have a chance to be more.
And it shows the audience, that they themselves can be more, too.
Update: How to donate to Asha Deep in India, contact me to donate from the US or other countries
Related posts:
- Tips for working with the underpriviledged
- How to teach computers without computers
- Good morning, Sunshine
Related posts:
- Tips for working with the underpriviledged
- How to teach computers without computers
- Good morning, Sunshine
Thank you! Thank you, Siddhant! I was just dying for some feedback on this year's show! I'm just waiting for more photos to come my way . . .
ReplyDeleteI just ate up your comments here . . . delicious!
So glad that our "great show" tradition goes on.
Connie
Thanks, Connie. I'm glad this was tasty for you. ;-) I'm glad to help to keep you and others more and more connected with what's happening at the school.
Deleteamazing!! so great to hear about this years show, go suraj!!!and all the rest of the kids, i have been thinking of you all this last month!! say hi to everyone from me!
ReplyDeleteImlydidi
Thanks, Imly. I think through this Suraj got a part in a local film. Let's see what comes of that! Keep the school in your thoughts and I'll convey your message.
Delete