By Subroto Bagchi, COO, MindTree Consulting
Graduating Class of 2004, Mr. Principal, Teachers, Staff Members and parents,
As the Class of 2004 leaves the hallowed portals of this institution, I want to tell you about a very special person. It is conventional and customary to thank your teachers, your parents and God on this great occasion of your life. To that list, I want you to add someone who is not expecting to be added; a person whose commitment, affection and gentle presence have had an important role in shaping the last ten or twelve years of your Cottonian experience. His name is Papanna. Do you know him? Is there someone here who can possibly recognize him?
Papanna drives an auto-rickshaw, bringing children to this school everyday. He has been doing it for the last twenty years. Children have come and gone, teachers and principals have come and gone but his loyalty has not waned. He has not sought other pastures, but has been there – come rain or shine.
Papanna says he is 51 years old. His mother died at childbirth – something not uncommon in 1953. The maternal mortality rate is India is a high 540 per 100,000 births, according to a report from the State of the World's Children, 2004. Only 43 per cent of Indian women get skilled attendants when they deliver babies and 60 per cent receive antenatal (post childbirth) care. Hardly surprising, therefore, that so many women die either while having babies or immediately after.
His father worked for a drama troupe. Born in a family with many children and relatives, but denied a mother at birth, Papanna was neglected from the very beginning. He recalls that his relatives did not take care of him. However, the absence of love in one’s life does not take away the power to love others. The manner in which Papanna has brought up his own two sons is a great example of shunning self-pity and giving in plenty to others what one is denied in one’s own life.
Papanna went to a government school near Hoskote, where he studied up to the fifth standard. Between life’s many ups and downs, he grew up to become a young man and started work as a coolie. Sometime during that course, he had his tryst with destiny. He began ferrying schoolchildren in a cycle rickshaw. Since then his mode of transport has changed but his purpose has not. That is all he does today, many decades afterward.
Along the way, Papanna met Papamma. Apart from the wonderful coincidence of matching names, it was truly a match made in heaven. To each one of you, some day, I ask God to give some one as loving as Papamma as your life partner. One day, you will realize that affection and companionship are more valuable than mere success.
When all seemed to be going just right, something awful was waiting to happen around the bend. One day, while repairing his house, Papanna hurt his leg. People like him do not have access to proper medical care, and the leg turned gangrenous. A doctor asked that the leg be amputated. He and Papamma signed documents of consent. A chance meeting with another doctor saved his leg. But the trade-off required was that he could not pedal his cycle-rickshaw ever again. Just as life was testing his resolve, in the years ahead, your own resolve will be tested many times over.
Papanna’s livelihood was under threat. However, a friend suggested that he borrow some money and start ferrying the school children in an auto-rickshaw. He borrowed money at a whopping 36% interest from a moneylender – know that we are talking about the days before micro-credit. That money was not enough. His friend agreed to give him the rest. You will find out, as you grow older, that giving is not a function of having. The more people have, the less they give. There is more giving amongst the have-nots than amongst the haves.
Papanna’s auto-rickshaw arrived. Ever since, his day has started at 6.30 every morning. He goes door to door to pick up his charges, their school bags and their lunch. He carries his precious cargo everyday, without fail. Papanna brings the children to their classes and goes back home at 10.30 in the morning to have his breakfast. Then, he returns to prepare his multi-school routine and begins to reverse the sequence of the morning as afternoon approaches.
Papanna lives in a one-room house in Adugodi. If you have reached the Mico Bosch factory on Hosur Road, you have gone too far. Just before that is an open drain and before the drain, to your left is a bunch of auto-repair garages. Behind these is his one room home where he and Papamma have lived and raised their two sons.
A screen separates the living portion from Papamma’s kitchen. Another secures a small portion that serves as the bath. The family uses a community toilet.
Papanna and Papamma had great hopes for their two sons – Babu and Prabhu. They enrolled them in Bethany, a good school, but the boys could not cope. It is not enough to go to a good school—one needs a supporting physical environment as well. The boys failed in their class examinations. Papanna did not give up. He did not write them off. He tried again. This time, one was sent to Stracey and the other to RV School. One son went up to the ninth standard and the other up to the tenth. Babu, the older boy started driving Papanna’s auto-rickshaw to ferry school children.
Papanna’s auto-rickshaw was ageing. Someone said that it was time he bought a rear-engine vehicle. It would cost him thirty five thousand rupees. He had all of ten. He borrowed the rest from the same moneylender who had financed him earlier. Since then, Papanna has paid every single installment on time. He still has nine thousand to repay. Some day he hopes he will manage this.
In Bangalore city alone, it is estimated that there are about a thousand auto-rickshaw drivers like Papanna who ferry children to school. They work on the basis of a complex network. A child may go through one or two hubs – changing more than one vehicle, as the principle of aggregation takes over. A driver hands over his charges to another driver and the children finally reach their destinations, either school or home.
Papanna earns about six thousand rupees a month. From this, he pays for the fuel and upkeep of his vehicle before he has money for his family and himself. But he is content. He says he is happy that his family has never had to starve. Their small world has its own moments of fulfillment. He says that he has been able to dream many dreams. He tempers that with the need to anchor every dream to the responsibility for enacting the same. In a world where desire outstrips happiness, it is so important to bridge the gap with contentment.
His two sons have grown well. Babu has graduated from an auto-rickshaw to a Maruti van. A family whose child he used to ferry offered him a deal. He could ferry kids using the family van so long as he did not charge them for it. Babu’s younger brother, Prabhu, works for a software company as the office boy. Papanna is a proud father because his sons bring their earning and leave the money with him. Whenever they need to go to a movie, they ask Papanna for money. It is a symbolic arrangement but its impact is substantial to a parent’s happiness.
My young friends, today is the beginning of your life’s impacting journey into an eventful, exciting future. Coming from homes that could afford your education, coming from a school that was ranked the best in the country, you are already on your way to great personal success. As you get there, remember that there is a Papanna somewhere in your life. It is easy to relegate him to the position of a faded, happy and occasional remembrance. That is because he will never show up, he will not contend for your attention or favor.
Above every other measure of success, I wish graduating Cottonians the capability to create “inclusion”. Life depends on it. With those words, allow me to present Papanna, who very kindly agreed to accompany me to your graduation ceremony today.
Ladies and Gentlemen: Please give him a big hand.
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