This review was first published in Parabaas, and is reproduced here with permission.
Shivani’s Amader Shantiniketan is one of those books where the foreword is almost as interesting as the book itself. This is not surprising, since the foreword is written by her daughter Ira Pande, a writer in her own right who also translated this memoir from Hindi.
Gaura Pant, who later chose the pen name Shivani, was born in Kumaon in 1923. Her father happened to visit Shantiniketan and was so taken by the ashram and teaching philosophy that he sent his three children there soon after. At age 12, Shivani was the youngest of the three, and this memoir, written almost 50 years ago, lovingly recounts stories of the people and routine of her 9 years at Shantiniketan.
Rabindranath Tagore, of course, looms large over the ashram in both Shivani’s and Buddhadeva Bose’s memoirs. He is a godlike figure to both adults and children, and both authors commented on his eyes:
“His eyes seemed lit up with an inner light” [p4]
Shivani is awed, as are the others:
[When in his presence] “Never once do I remember anyone trying to jostle someone or giggle or push.” [p4]
There is a deep respect for Tagore throughout the book, but at the same time, he is very accessible; Shivani grows familiar enough with him to ask him for help with her homework.
“The next day, I confidently submitted my assignment, secure in the knowledge that a Nobel laureate had written it.” [p7]
Tagore laughs when she gets a bad grade!
Designed in reaction to Tagore’s own depressing experiences in a traditional Indian classroom, the Shantiniketan style of teaching was the epitome of a liberal arts education.
“No student was ever punished. […] There was no corporal punishment although occasionally the teachers did transgress this rule.[..] Every student was free to study (or not study) any subject […] Our textbooks were imaginatively compiled […] Our classes were held in the sprawling field [..] under a cluster of shady trees […] You could walk into a Hindi class conducted by Acharya Hajari Prasad Dwivedi. Or if you wished, you could stroll over to any one of the neighbouring classes where you could either listen to the German professor Dr Alex Aronson’s lectures on Shakespeare’s plays or hear Marjorie Sykes’s lectures on English literature, or to Professor Adhikari as he conducted classes on Hindu philosophy or yoga. [..] If our fingers ached after writing, we were free to put down our pens and stroll away to hear the Santhal tribals singing” [p18-19]
I wondered how the teachers structured their lectures if the students wandered in and out at will. Was each lecture self-contained? How were the teachers able to build on a topic over multiple classes if the students were not likely to be present throughout the series? The education included plenty of music and dance and literature, but no subjects were skipped: there was algebra and geometry, history including the dates of battles and the details of Lord Bentinck’s administrative reforms. There were exams as well, and the students nervously strove to do well in them. Shivani says that the freedom bred in them “a sense of self-control”.
The schooldays were structured, with the students rising before sunrise, making their beds, bathing, and assembly before classes. There is space for the teachers to explore more than their main subject. Panditji taught Hindi, but might arbitrarily invite the students to an impromptu astronomy lesson at his house in the late evening. Prabhat da could wander from history into hours of theatrical anecdotes. ‘Daktar Babu’ ostensibly taught science, but was easily distracted into singing (“What a voice God had blessed him with!” [p35]).
Despite all the freedom, the teachers could be surprisingly strict. Daktar Babu cuffed Shivani’s ear when she asked a smart-alec question. Panditji became ‘a tyrant’ when he taught grammar, and Tanmoy da was particularly sensitive to students yawning – the student would have to leave the class until they felt able to concentrate again.
Set in a rural area far from major Indian cities, Shantiniketan’s cosmopolitan reality is evident at many places in this memoir. There are two foreign teachers (“who were more Indian than most of us”). During Shivani’s time there were students from all parts of India, several from royal houses. There was a student from Japan, one from Burma, some from Lanka and Java. There were Buddhist students with shaven heads and ochre robes mingled with Hindus who wore wooden clogs and long pigtails.
Shivani wrote about the people around her, but her anecdotes also reveal plenty about herself. She was obviously a bright child, self-motivated and hardworking, adventurous, with wide-ranging interests. She was also fearless – the kid who would boldly ask the questions that everyone else was whispering about. She could be mischievous, a major participant in student pranks. She describes the foibles of the teachers and students with a calm matter-of-factness, overlaid with a deep affection for every person.
She has the gift of capturing appearances and personalities in a few lightly sketched sentences.
“His amiable blue eyes could become cold when his temper was roused.”
“A slight frame with a shining face and domed forehead, he sported a long white beard.”
“Her tiny round frame contained immense patience.”
Aficionados of music and poetry will find much to enjoy in this chronicle, with plenty of poetry, song and literature. Those looking for celebrity anecdotes will also find many famous names sprinkled throughout.
“Her little son, whom we all called Babloo, is now the renowned economist Amartya Sen.” [p71]
The memoir covers the pre-Independence period of the late 1930s, and as one might expect, the freedom struggle also affects the peaceful life at Shantiniketan.
“Each time Gandhiji went on a hunger strike, the Ashram was plunged into gloom and worry.” [p78]
The first part of the memoir ends with Tagore’s death, “a dark cloud descends on the ashram”, and Part II has a different, sadder tone. Each chapter is devoted to a particular person: some famous like Satyajit Ray, some less well-known like Bhagwati Dwivedi. These chapters reflect Shivani’s own maturity at the time of writing, and her sorrow at the passing of each of these beloved people.
A lovely memoir for anyone with the least interest in education, Tagore, or Shantiniketan.
What an interesting book. The quotes though, seem to be a lot of telling rather than showing. I chuckled at the bit about the foreign teachers being more Indian than Indians. Like you, I am puzzled at how the education happened if it was so piecemeal. Seems to lack an understanding of how pedagogy works. There are very few young students who can construct a curricula for themselves; indeed, curricula construction is a special skill that not even all educators have. Also, how can exams be set if it is unclear what sessions students have and have not attended? Also, like you say, there is a lot of learning (esp in some disciplines, like maths) where sessions must build on sessions, and even missing a single step can derail the process of assimilation of understanding. Such learning and teaching cannot be delivered in single stand-alone sessions. Also, a lot of learning needs to be done through repetition, which doesn’t seem supported by piecemeal and arbitrary sessions. The idyllic style of education described here may well suit mature learners who already have a vast store of knowledge of their own, but I really question how it can be made to work for younger or less experienced learners. Still though, this memoir clearly indicates it works somehow!
I would guess (a) it works best for self-motivated students (b) many students are self-motivated when it comes to subjects that interest them, and at Santiniketan the students were not required to work at subjects that did _not_ interest them. So it worked because artistic students spent their time and energy on artistic pursuits without being forced to grind through mathematics, and students with an interest in history were not made to paint and dance? I’m just speculating here.
I read that Tagore started Santiniketan’s school and university in a reaction to his own awful school experience which had the usual rote learning and corporal punishment, and envisioned a place where students were drawn to learning. Shivani only wrote about the school, not the associated university (ViswaBharati University), so I don’t know how the university classes work .
And yes, Shivani went on to become a famous novelist, and there are many other famous alumni, for example Satyajit Ray and Mahasweta Devi and Amartya Sen and Indira Gandhi. (And Arianna Huffington, apparently! — see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Notable_people_associated_with_Santiniketan)
Incidentally, one can read “That Little Drop of Dew!,” an article on Satyajit Ray from Part 2 of the book, on Parabaas here: https://parabaas.com/article.php?id=7181
Gopa Majumdar, who translated many of Satyajit Ray’s works, originally sent me the Hindi version of this article, which was translated into English by Professor Ira Pande at our request. At the time, Professor Pande noted that she hadn’t been aware of this article—she actually discovered several previously unpublished articles by Shivani in the process. I assume these were eventually included in Part 2 of the book.
I also asked some friends about the structure of classes at Santiniketan. Contrary to the popular perception, Santiniketan’s system, at least now, is not that “open.” Students are still required to take exams from an external board. As a result, teachers—especially in the higher grades—monitor and guide students to ensure they are prepared. However, students are allowed to attend higher (or lower) grade classes in specific subjects based on their skill levels, something not typically offered in regular schools.
Samir, thanks, it is fascinating to hear how the classes have changed over the years. It sounds like they’ve managed to hold on to some openness despite the strictures of external exams.
Yes, that section about Satyajit Ray is included in Shivani’s book, and it’s great that people who don’t have the book can read it in Parabaas