Munnay ki Jawani

Teaching is the easiest job in the world. A lot of women in our country waiting to tie the knot seem to be doing it. Surely there cannot be a threat or huge challenge in it; at least that’s what I thought. Four days substituting at a local private “English” medium school changed my perception of three things: teaching, 12 year old boys and Sheela.

As it happened, I dropped in at this particular school to collect some information regarding the admission policy. The administration was quick to size me up and seize the day by asking me to kindly substitute for a missing teacher for a few days. Will I be comfortable dealing with and teaching 12 year old boys? Why should I not be conformable, they are kids!!!

The first greeting I got as I entered the class was a long whistle, followed by a sheelaaaa….sheela ki jawani from a corner. Ahem! This cant be right, as I tried to regain my composure and maintain a business-like demeanour (heart pounding in my head) I tell them to settle down. Next I am subjected to the Holy Inquisition: What’s my cell? Am I on facebook? Married or single?

As I restore the class discipline (mind boggling task) and start the lesson of the day, older boys lounge outside the class. Toying around with their latest phones, sharing content and giving me sly looks. A few boys are giving me odd stares in the class, nudging each other and sharing notes. Every time I turn around the Sheela chorus beings somewhere.

I am being paranoid, they were just harmless children. Children, who represented a better class of our society, having access to a thousand luxuries, in a country where millions were devoid of the basic needs. Yet these very privileged children had learned to treat women and girls the same as they are treated elsewhere in our morally decrepit and ethically bankrupt society. There was nothing different; women to them are mere objects of gratification and eve teasing.

It is heart rending to find that yet another generation of Pakistan’s future shows no great signs of improving the deplorable ethical values that we as a society seem to have fed in our basic mental software. Before we start blaming the media, the school systems and our poplar culture; let’s bear in mind that children imitate their elders. They are a mirror, of how they see the men in their life treat the women around them. Their behaviour is a sad reality that raises some very serious questions.

How many children end up harming themselves and others due to these unanswered queries? Who should be blamed for not educating our young about boundaries and respect?

There is a dearth of communication between the parents and their children. In most cases we as care givers are unable to provide right information and guidance to our young regarding the many curiosities that they face in tweens and beyond. Couple that with reckless media and marketing gimmicks, one strategy of selling everything, from Bollywood movies to local tooth paste; objectifying women. The Icing on the cake is our favourite: what–I-ignore-never-happened theory.

I go back the next day with my head clear, I give them a calming stare. Next, I ask them their opinion of women/girls. To my surprise; a hush falls over them. I talk about how a true man really treats the people in his life, I address them not as boys but as young gentlemen and their gaze is lowered. They open up and begin to share their thoughts, start asking questions.

The problem is never with the children, we need to open channels of communication and teach them about respect and boundaries. We need to put theory in practice by opting for a behaviour which is not derogatory to women. As teachers, relatives and care givers our practices need to confirm what we preach. Holding seminars in five star hotels on gender equality, writing policy papers and advocating with the Ministries will achieve nothing.

As I walked towards my car on the last day, I could hear another group of older boys and a familiar chorus building up. There is a long journey ahead. Sheela’s ki jawani will be forever etched in my mind.