Nurungukal….

    There was a craft teacher in our school. He taught us how to operate a hand loom and spin yarn with the use of a spindle known as thakkili. I do not remember his real name now. But everyone fondly called him BumBuka. He was called so because of the way he walked. His each step was more or less like a jump Bum Bum. He was one among a few teachers who wore pants in those days. We loved to be in his class as there was no text to learn. I used to watch him with wonder, the way he moved his hands and legs in rhythm to shuttle the warp yarn from one end to the other on the loom. It was a crude wooden loom. Very often the threads got broken and seldom allowed him to complete weaving the entire length of the cloth. In spite of my best efforts I could not for even once synchronise the movements of my hands and legs. So it remained to me a dream never come true. But instead I mastered the art of spinning yarn on the thakkili spindle, fairly fast and even managed to win a prize in the annual school level competition. I do not know why such crafts were taught in those days, may be as an attempt to prepare the children to take up a profession related to the village level self sufficiency or as a mission to inculcate some of Mhatma’s great thoughts on Grama swaraj. Although it has not helped to attain its goal in the matter of self sufficiency, it has definitely made an impact on us to uphold the values set by the greatest visionary of our age, who is none other than Gandhiji. My father was fairly good at spinning yarn on the charka. It was one of his passionate hobbies and an ardent practitioner of Mahatma’s principles in life. He used to trade the yarn in the Khadi centre regularly. Unfortunately such facilities are not available nowadays.

      We were also taught pencil drawing in the school. I do not know whether it is in the curriculum now. Our drawing teacher was highly short tempered, still a talented artist. His painting of the Goddess Saraswathy on the vast canvas was the most beautiful stage curtain I have seen in my life. Perhaps the skill we attained in sketching intricate designs set by him might have helped us to stimulate our aesthetic senses and creative aptitudes which have no doubt helped us in moulding a positive attitude in life.      

       Apart from learning such crafts and skills in school, we were engaged during our leisure time in many activities such as,  collecting match box pictures, broken glass bangles, empty cigarette boxes, feathers of different birds or even candle pieces etc. All these were a part of character development training we obtained indigenous. Collecting match box pictures was a parallel hobby to philately. We even managed to collect pictures from Sivakasi in Tamil Nadu, the abode of printing technology. With broken glass bangles bits we made garlands to adorn the pictures of Gods and Goddesses or national leaders. Also by pasting the bits of different colours on drawing paper beautiful designs of flowers and birds were made. Similarly with strips of empty cigarette packets we made  garlands, baskets, penholders etc. Pebbles of various colours made by melting the candles to make eye catching designs was our another pastime. It was with much fancy we gazed at the dancing pebbles of melted wax floating in a plate of water. Yet another time passing activity was to collect the feathers of different birds and carcasses of butterflies and delicately arranging them in an album. This helped us to identify many birds and even their calls and acquaint with the life cycle of many tiny creatures there by growing in harmony with nature.

       Although we belonged to a past devoid of less material gains have a legitimate right to claim a sustainable mode of life, thanks to the freedom we enjoyed in shaping our destiny. Now look at the brink we have reached sacrificing all freedom for the sake of the so called model developments. Even now it is not too late to look back and take lessons from our mistakes, if you wish to come back. Mother earth would be too happy to pardon and offer one more chance……