History- the very word reminds me of the troubled evenings and sleepless nights spent in memorizing innumerable dates and scrambling to differentiate between a Chola and Pandyan king. Or for that matter, labours made to cram all the vital details of the dancing girl of the Indus valley civilization or the height of the tallest temple at Khajuraho. History always seemed such a troublesome subject and I, like many others of my age, could never fathom why we need to know about all that is dead and gone. Not only know, but also remember and then give exams on the knowledge so painfully incurred. It never helped my cause that my father was a professor of history; all my loud lamentations against the existence of the subject were always met with disdain and vehement disapproval.
But, I figure, surroundings and atmosphere do have an impact on you. Surrounded by innumerable books on history of India and those of different parts of the world, I figured out on one particularly sweltering summer afternoon that history is much more than a jungle of dates and figures. What began as a way to while away summer holidays, soon became an area of great interest. I remember having spent weeks on end rummaging my father’s library and reading up on all the books on history just the way I would read a story book. Indeed, it was a fascinating journey through the glories, trials and tribulations of peoples and races all through the world across centuries. Not to say that thereafter, history, as a subject in school, appeared any less formidable, but yes, it was no longer a nightmare.
It was much later that I realized the importance of learning our personal as well as our social histories. Because it is this knowledge which actually tells us where we came from,who we are and where we are headed. As children and teenagers, the idea is totally lost on us. We really don’t care two hoots, coming from sheltered well-provided for families. I have always wondered as to why we sympathize with orphans? Just because they don’t have a family? Not the whole story. Our hearts go out to them for they have no idea who they really are, where they have come from and what defines their being. They are deprived of a sense of personal history, in other words, they are deprived of roots. And that probably, is heart-wrenching and cruel. If we look back, we find that during all conquests, the invaders would always attack the symbols of history of the group facing the siege. Amongst other reasons, the prime motive has always been to deprive the race under attack of the wonderful memories of its past; to deal them the most savage blow ever. For a group which has no memories of its past will lose its moorings and will not be able to sustain itself in the struggle for survival. It will not only lose a war, it also will lose out in a race of life.
As a matter of opinion, I believe that the pedagogy in our country should concentrate on teaching history to our children in a creative manner. They should be told right at the outset that it is nothing but a web of beautiful stories left behind for us by our preceding generations so that we can take pride in their achievements and learn lessons from their mistakes. History also is prone to interpretations, re-interpretations and on various unfortunate occasions, distortions. Now, the latter is a tendency which poses a huge challenge to the social fabric today and the onus is upon well-meaning historians and academicians to contain it. While reading a number of novels with plots situated in Europe or America, I have often noticed that in these places, even the smallest of towns boasts of a museum which chronicles and portrays the local history and is a major attraction for school children and college/university goers. Maybe, we should take a leaf from their book and think of introducing our children to the exciting world of our past by ensuring periodic and regular visits to local museums. Yes, we don’t have many, but it would be a nice idea if we could just use the available resources. We generally never think that visiting museums is a great idea to engage a day but now, we can give it another thought.
My dalliance with history is now limited to getting obsessed with historical novels or dreaming of a long pending visit to Egypt-the land of the oldest civilization or for that matter, occasionally trying to reconstruct the history of my forefathers. However what set my thoughts on history in motion was a random quote that the bird which seeks to soar high should forget the trees it nested upon. I could not disagree more. I believe that the bird should always remember the trees, the love with which they gave it shelter, allowed it to nest and took great care. This memory will give it the zeal and verve to soar higher and higher. And whenever, the bird is desolate, it will remember where it can go back for solace. History is precisely those trees..and we are the birds. We would do well to understand and remember the writings on the sands of Time for us to have the forbearance to strive to greater heights of success, as an individual, as a society.
But, I figure, surroundings and atmosphere do have an impact on you. Surrounded by innumerable books on history of India and those of different parts of the world, I figured out on one particularly sweltering summer afternoon that history is much more than a jungle of dates and figures. What began as a way to while away summer holidays, soon became an area of great interest. I remember having spent weeks on end rummaging my father’s library and reading up on all the books on history just the way I would read a story book. Indeed, it was a fascinating journey through the glories, trials and tribulations of peoples and races all through the world across centuries. Not to say that thereafter, history, as a subject in school, appeared any less formidable, but yes, it was no longer a nightmare.
It was much later that I realized the importance of learning our personal as well as our social histories. Because it is this knowledge which actually tells us where we came from,who we are and where we are headed. As children and teenagers, the idea is totally lost on us. We really don’t care two hoots, coming from sheltered well-provided for families. I have always wondered as to why we sympathize with orphans? Just because they don’t have a family? Not the whole story. Our hearts go out to them for they have no idea who they really are, where they have come from and what defines their being. They are deprived of a sense of personal history, in other words, they are deprived of roots. And that probably, is heart-wrenching and cruel. If we look back, we find that during all conquests, the invaders would always attack the symbols of history of the group facing the siege. Amongst other reasons, the prime motive has always been to deprive the race under attack of the wonderful memories of its past; to deal them the most savage blow ever. For a group which has no memories of its past will lose its moorings and will not be able to sustain itself in the struggle for survival. It will not only lose a war, it also will lose out in a race of life.
As a matter of opinion, I believe that the pedagogy in our country should concentrate on teaching history to our children in a creative manner. They should be told right at the outset that it is nothing but a web of beautiful stories left behind for us by our preceding generations so that we can take pride in their achievements and learn lessons from their mistakes. History also is prone to interpretations, re-interpretations and on various unfortunate occasions, distortions. Now, the latter is a tendency which poses a huge challenge to the social fabric today and the onus is upon well-meaning historians and academicians to contain it. While reading a number of novels with plots situated in Europe or America, I have often noticed that in these places, even the smallest of towns boasts of a museum which chronicles and portrays the local history and is a major attraction for school children and college/university goers. Maybe, we should take a leaf from their book and think of introducing our children to the exciting world of our past by ensuring periodic and regular visits to local museums. Yes, we don’t have many, but it would be a nice idea if we could just use the available resources. We generally never think that visiting museums is a great idea to engage a day but now, we can give it another thought.
My dalliance with history is now limited to getting obsessed with historical novels or dreaming of a long pending visit to Egypt-the land of the oldest civilization or for that matter, occasionally trying to reconstruct the history of my forefathers. However what set my thoughts on history in motion was a random quote that the bird which seeks to soar high should forget the trees it nested upon. I could not disagree more. I believe that the bird should always remember the trees, the love with which they gave it shelter, allowed it to nest and took great care. This memory will give it the zeal and verve to soar higher and higher. And whenever, the bird is desolate, it will remember where it can go back for solace. History is precisely those trees..and we are the birds. We would do well to understand and remember the writings on the sands of Time for us to have the forbearance to strive to greater heights of success, as an individual, as a society.
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