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Visit
to a School for the Deaf in India
If
you think visiting a school for the deaf in Delhi would be
easy, think again or maybe forget the whole idea.
Last
year, while in New Delhi, I wanted to visit a school for the
deaf. There are several schools for the deaf, most of them
operated by private groups known as NGOs or non-government
organizations. I decided to visit the largest school there,
the Lady Noyce School for the Deaf. It has reportedly 600
students. I thought a visit to this school will give me some
ideas about deaf education in India, therefore, asked the
secretary at the Multi Purpose Training Center for the Deaf
(MPTCD) to call the principal and find out a good time for
me to visit the school. A few minutes later, she came back
to tell me that the principal is not allowed to give permission
for visits and I had to contact the director of Social Welfare
Department. She was an efficient young lady and had already
contacted the office of this director only to be told that
I had to personally go there to get a letter of permission
from his office.
Thus
the odyssey began!
Several
people in the main office of the MPTCD gave me conflicting
directions to the office. I also was advised to take a bus
(Oh, no!) or a taxi or a three-wheeler. Each mode of transportation
had its own merit according to the proponents. I settled for
a three-wheeler. Vivek Rai, an employee at the MPTCD came
out with me to the street outside and helped me find a three-wheeler.
This was a mistake. Whenever someone else goes with you to
tell the driver where to take you, it is a dead giveaway that
you are not a local. The driver nodded vehemently to Vivek's
instructions and the started to snake around the New Delhi
street. It took about one hour to arrive at the place and
cost me twice as much as I was told it would. Apparently the
driver had taken the longest route to let the meter run its
course. I had no choice but to pay after showing my disdain
by looking upset and angry. The driver rewarded my negative
attitude by not returning the change due me.
It
took me about half an hour to locate the office. I asked around
and was pointed in one or the other direction with "it
is there" gesture. The Social Welfare Department office
is located in a building ready to fall. There are hand-painted
signs on every wall warning people: Danger, Do not enter.
However, in each room there were a number of people working.
I found the office of the director. The outer office had the
sign, "Personal Assistant to the Director." I entered
the office and found four men of various ages sitting in front
of typewriters or computers talking to each other very seriously.
The office was dingy with furniture ready to crumble and walls
with paint peeling. The floor was brown with dust.
My
entrance was greeted with the same expression as homeowners
have for unwanted visitors who knock at their doors in the
middle of dinner. When I told them that I was deaf in response
to their spoken questions, they looked at each other with
puzzled expression. I addressed the young man who from his
neat bearings appeared to be the PA and asked him write his
question. He was very obliging.
He
wrote on a crumpled sheet of a paper, "What do you want?"
"I need to see the director to get permission to see
the school for the deaf." I spoke.
"Why do you want to see the schools?" He scribbled
after conferring with the three onlookers. They were looked
very puzzled. Obviously, they thought it was strange for anyone,
especially a deaf person, wanting to see the school for the
deaf.
"To enhance my knowledge about deaf education in India."
I responded impatiently and gave him my business card. He
began to examine it with care and the three other guys crowded
around him. After they had finished the examination for what
seemed like a long time, they had a conference and the PA
pointed to a chair motioning me to sit down. I sat down and
noted that all four of them were glaring at me. They would
look away whenever my eyes met theirs. I wondered if my doctoral
degree and position had gotten their attention. Usually, I
smile back while looking at people in such situation. However,
I was tired and frustrated so I just started back at each
of them. They looked away and got busy with something more
important, namely eating.
Four
lunch boxes of various dimensions showed up from desk drawers
and were arranged on the PA's desk. They stood around he desk
and began to eat their community lunch. I thought of my own
past when I worked in a government office as a photographer.
I used to take a few chapties and one vegetable in my lunch
box. My fellow employees and I used to put our lunch boxes
on a table and we shared each others food. Those who had forgotten
to bring their lunch were also invited to share. There were
some who "forgot' their lunch daily. We never complained
about that. I felt a warm feeling seeing them share the lunch
their wives or mothers had cooked for them.
After
the lunch, the PA earnestly talked to one of the guy who appeared
to be the peon. The peon ignored him with equal earnestness
and continued to check the cracks in the ceiling. He was ready
for his siesta. However, he stood up slowly and walked toward
the door with the sign "Director" on it. He went
in and returned two minutes later and without saying a word
sat down in his chair again. I looked at the PA who talked
to the peon and then pointed to a chair for me to sit down.
I
was called in after about 10 minutes to the inner sanctum
of the director. This was a different world. The office was
carpeted and the director immaculately dressed in a blue suit
and tie sat behind a large desk with a glass sheet on top
of it. He was talking tow persons sitting opposite him. The
two guys stood up when I entered. I thought they were leaving,
but they continued to talk for almost 15 minutes while I examined
the walls with pictures and written notices.
A
wooden tablet about six feet tall had the names and tenure
of previous directors of the Social Welfare Department. I
did some math in my head and learned that average life span
of a director here was 13 months. Another wooden signboard
illustrated the organizational chart of the Department showing
various programs under the director. These included old people's
homes, program to feed the hungry and the blind school. There
was no mention of deaf schools in this chart. I thought this
information would be good as an icebreaker when my turn to
talk with the director came.
When
the two guys left, I got the full attention of the director.
I introduced myself and explained why I was here and hoped
that he would ask some follow-up questions. There was none.
I brought up the subject of high turnover in his position
and added that it must be frustrating for him and his colleagues
to start and see programs through, as one year was not much
time. He moved his head around in a circular motion that only
Indian people can make. This motion can mean anything from,
"you are right" to "go to hell." I asked
him several questions about schools for the deaf. There was
no answer. He just moved his head from right to left to right.
He picked up my card and again and examined it for a full
minute then put it in the corner of his desk moving it around
until he was satisfied with its positioning. He was neat man.
His expression clearly showed that he was getting tired of
me.
I persisted, "Would you like me to write down my observations
after I visit the school?"
There
was no answer. Instead he pushed the button of the call bell
on h is desk and the peon appeared. He told the peons something
and he disappeared. The PA appeared immediately with a steno
pad and a pen in his hand. The director talked to the PA gesturing
toward the wall behind him and I was ushered out of his office.
The PA was very courteous and took me through several corridors
with offices on both sides showing clerks and officials in
various states of hibernation with dog-eared files piled in
front of them. He came to a stop at a closed door and pushed
it open with his shoe. He peered in and appeared to talk with
someone there for a minute and then pulled his head out. In
the corridor, he told me that everyone was at lunch and I
should return in 20 minutes.
I
returned in 25 minutes to the PA's office but he was not there.
Instead, there was a guy talking on the phone. When he put
the phone down, I asked him where the PA was. He responded
with a gesture which meant "he will come." I knew
it was useless to ask such mundane questions as when, so I
sat there examining the ceiling and the peeling plaster.
The
PA returned after full hour. He saw me and remembered why
I was there. He did not apologize for the delay and just asked
me to follow him. We walked in single file to the same door.
It was open now and there were four people-two women and two
men-sitting and talking to each other. The PA talked to one
of the women and they both looked at one empty chair behind
a desk while discussing the subject, I assumed, of my visit.
Then the woman said something to the PA and he touched his
ear shaking his head at the same time. They talked some more
and the PA asked me to follow him.
We
returned to his office and he told me that I needed to write
an application to the director asking him for the permission
to visit the school. I should have simply followed his instructions
but I was getting tired by the minute and told him that director
had already given me the permission and that it would be redundant
to ask again. He told me nicely that a written permission
required a written request. We went back and forth and I knew
soon that it would be hopeless to argue and asked him for
a sheet of paper.
I
scribbled a request to the director using the British format
which we still use in India. It started with "To"
in one line, followed with the director and his position and
ended with "Yours Faithfully." The PA examined my
work and was satisfied with it. He wrote, "approved"
on my application and called the peon. The peon was standing
leaning on the back of a chair with is chin resting on it.
He ignored the PA for a few minutes and finally moved his
hand and chin from the chair's back and walked with a pace
that would have made a sick slug proud of his speed. He snatched
my application from the PA's hand and went into the director's
office. I thought maybe the director would get angry upon
learning that I was still there two hours after he had given
me the permission. He might come out and apologize to me.
Instead, the peon came out and handed me back my application.
The director had initialed it.
The
PA pointed in the direction of the office where we had went
earlier. I was glad that finally I had something on paper.
On entering that office, I got the same glare from the two
ladies and gents that are given to those who disrupt your
mid-afternoon siesta. I approached one of the women and gave
her my application. She examined it and then shook her head
sadly. We talked with her writing notes and learned the following
things:
- The person
who issues permits for visiting schools was not there.
- I needed
to add the purpose of my visit to these schools (I did).
- I needed
to change the dates of my proposed visit to February as
it takes one week to issue a permit (I did not ask the reason
for it)
- I could pick
up the permit next week.
I
was tired and angry by now. More than half day was gone and
I was still on square one. First I thought of giving them
a lecture on efficiency or the lack of it, but then thought
better of it. I might need them again. I made some cracks
about the British bureaucracy and how the Indians have perfected
it. We all laughed and shook hands. It was agreed that when
I returned to Delhi in two months, they would have my permission
slip ready.
Two
months later, when I stopped in Delhi, I did not have the
time or the courage to visit those corridors. I often wonder
if the permit slip to visit the Lady Noyce School for the
Deaf is gathering dust among the piles of files in of those
offices!
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