Investing In Scholarship

AARAKSHAN (Reservation) was released in mid-August, mere days before the three-day-long Independence Day weekend, at a time when a simmering anti-corruption movement was on the heady edge of a nationwide breakout, and when a politics of ban was looming large on the movie’s release.

When it comes to a Prakash Jha flick, one that deals with the contentious topic of reservations or affirmative action, naturally expectations are high. After all Jha is one of the very few directors in Bollywood who dabbles in making movies that touch upon sensitive sociopolitical issues. But at the same time, he also has a tendency to lean towards marketing gimmickry when it comes to his film titles, occasionally paying only lip service to the purported subject.

His previous production, Raajneeti (2010), was supposedly his moment de gloire, but it turned out to be a joyless story more about in-clan ‘political’ rivalry than insightful scrutiny of the brutish intricacies of politics. Most of the script of Apaharan (2005) was devoted to showcasing the rivalry within a kidnapping ring run by a political leader in Bihar; it hardly delved into the social underpinnings of what has become a full-blown trade with its own zealously guarded guild.

And so, it wasn’t a surprise that Aarakshan was a few degrees off the mark. While the generic subject of reservations occupied its first half, a smaller but sharper slice of the issue—the thin line that separates privatisation of education from its unethical commercialisation—appropriated the entire discursive space.

Dr Prabhakar Anand, played by Amitabh Bachchan, is principal of the Shakuntala Thakral Mahavidyalay (STM), a much-coveted private college run by a trust. Unbending to the last, Anand resigns following politicking among the board members on reservation in educational institutes (which he supports, in principle).

He is replaced by Mithilesh Singh (played by Manoj Bajpayee), vice-principal of STM, who runs a large chain of private coaching classes and who, in collusion with some politicians, dreams of creating an education empire built on the pillars of grand infrastructure and aggressive marketing. But Singh lacks the slightest bit of concern about his students’ academic and personal development. The movie depicts Anand’s struggle to expose the hollowness of the commercialisation of the education system.

Aarakshan is an important movie, not because it is a dig against privatisation of education. On the contrary, Aarakshan ends up taking a pragmatic view of private investment in education. After all, STM is a private institute that Anand has nurtured for more than 30 years. Anand’s war is not against the idea of private education, but against so-called educators driven solely by how much money they can fleece students out of their money, using everything from false promises to deceptive advertising.

In this Leviathan of a country, where government is not able to keep pace with the educational imperatives of a vast population growing even vaster, private investment in education is a necessity. According to the National Council of Educational Research and Training, India needs 20,000 more schools; the National Knowledge Commission says that India needs at least 1,150 more universities. The government expects the private sector to significantly bail

it out.

But compromises would be inevitable if the private sector were to take a leading role in this field. In a competitive environment that is prone to institutional marketing, overblown advertising and promotion of corporate-clone competitiveness, it would be only natural to expect marketing prioritisation to usher in the dangers of occasional proprietorial unscrupulousness—the hardsell of the haat, the stealing of students from competitors, false promises, overcharging, venality.

The issue that we therefore confront is how to protect private education from becoming a victim of its own perils.

In the movie, Dr Anand sets up his own makeshift coaching centre in a cowshed, and teaches anyone who wants to learn free of charge. His is a missionary’s take on good and evil. The coaching centre becomes an awareness-raising factory—that swanky classrooms and glitzy marketing are just glitter. When the students of Anand’s Tabela (stable) Coaching Centre succeed spectacularly in the exams, they expose the deficiencies of Mithilesh Singh’s cynical empire.

As utopian as it sounds, the movie underscores the fact that in the absence of strong regulation, perhaps the only checks on the perversion of learning are increased public consciousness and beady-eyed scrutiny of ethical standards.

This would require that the media take a proactive, interrogative role. Education is a field—perhaps even an industry—whose standards of quality are difficult to define. While alumnae and alumni can be reliable sources of feedback, many institutes have worked around them by brassy marketing and reflexive litigation. The media can beat this stonewalling by being aggressively alert.

But this could well be wishful thinking. Unfortunately in India, private educational institutes have systems of incentivising that are designed for the media. This collusiveness is very subtly—and cleverly—portrayed in the movie, as when Mithilesh Singh, trying to steamroll Anand into submission, enlists the support of a reporter to plant a story in the newspaper, which creates the precise condition for Anand’s resignation as principal of STM.

Anant Nath