Kings, actors and mathematicians Premium

Spending a day with children, struck by things tiny hands conjure up

“This-is-the-Gol-Gumbaz-in-Bijapur- Karnataka,” was just one of the many breathless accounts I listened to on a visit to a school in the suburbs of Chennai to appreciate children’s projects. The morning was something of a mind-opener. Except for a single tot who had fallen asleep over her creation and was allowed to dream on, all the other children were positively fizzing.

As I left one of the lower primary classrooms, a tiny hand gripped my elbow. “Ma’am, you didn’t listen to my welcome speech. Please listen to my welcome speech.” Suppressing my mirth, I listened to the little girl’s speech which I should have heard as I entered, but had missed because of the uproar on the “stage” in the corner of the classroom.

It was supremely funny to watch charming young faces covered with white cotton “beards”, not to mention the talcum powder sprinkled on their heads, as the children acted out their story with gusto. The sutradhaar would have done any adult theatre group proud — the lines were delivered with such aplomb. “Spears” threatened to bring down the royal canopy and the “old” king swished about in what was probably his mother’s silk sari, but the whole production bristled with so much enthusiasm that I was sad when it ended. “Respect old folks” was the message of the play.

In another room, Tulsidas and the Rani of Jhansi played their roles, while Shakespeare’s nine-year-old Portia, ready for court, poked Antonio to attention before she saved him.

In another room, a lad had rigged up a device that shut off power to the motor when the “water tank” fills up. He had put together wires, a candle, water, of course, pipes and a miniature water tank. Had he done it all by himself, I asked. His teachers nearly fainted with joy.

There was a beautiful chart which said that maths is about finding solutions, making mistakes, justifying answers, being precise, thinking, practising, teaching others, working together, making corrections, and understanding. You could, of course, replace maths with life!

What impressed me most of all were calculations of P. Siddharth of Class 4. Like all true scholars, he did not draw attention to himself and was all set to have me pass him by but something made me ask him what he was ready to demonstrate. “Please tell me your d.o.b [date of birth] and I will tell you what day of the week it was.” He said there were three methods and in an incredibly neat hand, unhurriedly worked out his calculations. “Monday,” he said quietly, and of course he was right. I asked if I might carry off that sheet of paper and he presented it to me like a certificate, which it is.