we took a plush bus from secunderabad bus station. it took the night to get to anathapur bus station. the contrast from hyderabad was enormous. we were in a small town, and it was early morning. the bus station had a small garden full of monkeys. all around us were people dressed in loose shirts and pants or white dhoti and vest. somewhere near the bus were a couple dressed more formally, wearing a tie. they looked to be sales reps. eventually we got on the bus that would take us to chennakothapalli. as we moved out of the station one of the monkeys picked up a frooti packet and took it up the branches till it could sit undisturbed. there it took a long and careful look at the packet, then tentatively pushed the packet to its mouth.

and then we were onto the highway to bangalore. the road forked and one went onward to madras. we stayed on the other and the landscape began to change. now hills could be seen. they were still mostly distant, barely visible in the morning haze. but much nearer was a cone shaped hill, bare and dramatic, a contrast to the flatness around it. we were in the plains, thick grass that was a faint yellow in color. the soil was a dark red and because of the recent rains it sprouted much greenery. by the road side we went past people making clay pots, using leather bellows for wood furnaces, and the thatched houses of villages though some of the houses did have concrete walls and metal gates. and tea shops (often under a large tree). the bus slowed and carefully manoeuvred through a herd of goats making for pasture. then speeding up again going through more fields, the roadside studded with haystacks, the smell of fertilizer thick in some of them, perhaps urea perhaps phosphate. there were green fields (rice) and there were yellow fields (jowar?). some were being furrowed and there were squiggly lines in their uncovered dark soil. access to them was either open or covered with a gate of thorns. as we passed them there was a thick smell of cows. we swept through groves of tamarind trees, fringed by wavy grass, the distant haze of the hills clearing as we neared them. a passing signpost read "bangalore 170 km, hyderabad 340 km". at chennakothapalli we crossed the highway. there were people waiting for buses, standing next to a crowded tea shop. we went down a track that led to rail crossing. a short distance away is the office of the timbaktu collective. it was a white house, made of concrete, of the sort common in any city. there was a gate fringing a compound; within it was two houses, and behind them a wild garden with a cattle shed at a corner. while we were there we would occasionally hear their lowing or smell the grass and dung indicating their presence. inside the first house was the timbaktu office. we were ushered into a room that led branched in two directions: the left headed to another room from where a phone could be heard ringing. the right led again to a smaller room and onward to the outside. the walls were fringed with many charts, all in telugu, all hand-drawn. they described the units within the timbaktu operation, the philosophy of the thrift cooperative that timbaktu was involved with, thrift coop activities, and its relationship with other mandals. the relationship was described in terms of circles.

as we waited we learnt about the thrift cooperative. a smiling woman, rama, told us about the thrift cooperative. it was evident that we spoke poor telugu. rama spoke good english but with difficulty. however she insisted on speaking english throughout this long conversation, without relapsing into telugu as is often common. the collective has thrift coops, started with help from the thrift coop assn (which has some association with cdf). they seem to work on similar lines as the cdf- aided thrift coops. there is a minimum monthly deposit of Rs. 20, which entitles you to a loan that is within the limit of three times your deposit. the loan is for a ten month period and must be paid back in monthly installments. two people must be guarantors for the loan, and their total deposits must be equal to the loan amount. the transaction is executed as a promissory note. deposits are at an interest of 12% and loans of 24%. if the loan recipient is unable to pay the installment of the loan or contribute the deposit there is a fine, rs 3 for the loan, rs 2 for the deposit. after three months if the loan remains unpaid it is collected from the guarantors' deposit. each society has an accountant and organizers, who are deemed staff. village societies in turn elect mandal societies which will pay their salaries. mandal society boards comp rise seven society leaders and discuss loan applications of societies, sanctioning their loans. the idea of the thrift coop was sparked by the work done by the thrift coop association of cuduppah which used to be also known as the farmers thrift cooperative association. the tca was able to get loans for 10,000 members. it avoids banks and thus wastage and dependence. it refuses credit from the government, the daily run-around to the book, paying extra in bribes, 5000 or 10000 of your loans to the bank. the tca helped set up the thrift coops in chennakothapalli. they gave advice on the accounting system to be used, the benefits of the cooperatives, and the ways to sustain the society, that is the margin needed to stay in operation.

we talked a bit about the accounting system they use for the thrift societies. they keep three month statements, ledgers and check the books periodically. the books are kept at the office in chennakothapalli. but there are duplicates which are kept at the village sanghams. the cooperatives had now been 4 years in operation, focusing on the mandal-level. their deposits were 5 lakhs, they had 1500 members, and a margin of Rs 42000, but this was only on books'. what this meant, rama said, was that this was not a margin of cash surplus in hand, but of excess that had already been lent out. timbaktu was at the moment funding the salaries but at a later date it would shift to using this fund for such a purpose.

what happened when the member simply refused to pay or could not pay back the loan or maintain her deposit? rama explained the procedure for such a situation without hesitation, patiently listing the procedure, but with a quiet enthusiasm at recounting the detailed rules available for such purposes. if the member was unable to pay the amount, for a month a fine was exacted, Rs 3 on loans, Rs 2 on deposits. that is in both cases the member had to pay more as a penalty for late payment. after 3 months, if the amount was still not forthcoming the loan was collected from the sureties. initially when the loan is sanctioned a promissory note is signed and a surety provided. this surety is equivalent to the loan amount and is provided typically by two other people whose deposits equal or are greater than the loan amount. at the moment the deposit default rate is 8.35% per year, the loan default rate 9% per year. for these figures rama went through the books, did some calculations and then offered the figures.

by now my questions about the thrift coops were over. i turned my attention to the two haughty kittens who now deigned to occupy my lap. it was nearing 1030 and the morning chillness still lingered here inside the room despite the bright sunshine outside. they found my lap congenial and found themselves a comfortable place, rapidly beginning a steady and loud purr. as i watched unbelievingly one of them began to lick the other, methodically cleaning the top of the head and neck, areas a cat can never reach when grooming herself. it seemed a pleasant though, perhaps also apt as a reflection at that moment, this instinctive cooperation between these two kittens. they were both from the farm, i was told, brought here just after they were born. the man who told me this began to talk about politicians. i had asked about government interference. he told me about their experience. anantapur district, he said had politicians closely allied to the ruling telugu desam party, and they were very jealous about their privileges. when the collective had embarked on a government-sponsored scheme, water-sheds, they were expected to give the politicians a portion of their grant money. they were also expected to provide jobs for their men and offer them any other befits from the funding. the collective resisted both efforts. the politicians in turn intimidated the collective's workers and villagers. the whole result of the experience was a decision to never try watershed programs and government funding again. so he concluded "politicians won't interfere unless it is a government scheme such as watershed or child labor. then they will certainly interfere." the politicians had gangs of "mercenary goondas" working for them, seeking money from government schemes and other privileges. what choice did people have? they were between the naxalites and the landlords-- who were often the politicians as well. it was the large number of gangs operating in the district, he explained, that led to the high violence in the district. later at timbaktu i was told the district had one of the highest murder rates in india. it had become routine to hear of rival gang killings.

we heard a jeep pull up. bablu came in and greeted us. he was received with quiet deference but informality. he spoke to rama and the man in fluent telugu and occupied himself with some work. then we were on or way to the collective. we returned to the highway and continued in the direction of bangalore, towards the next large town, dharmavaram (?). we passed a stretch of the road where a portion of it was marked off with stones, with paddy drying on it. immediately after, there are imposing hills that appear on the right, gradually retreating into the distance. we now saw a dirt road to the right and a yellow sign timbaktu collective'. bablu looked at me scribbling in my notebook and made a nervous joke about the cbi and spies. i still cannot place the reason for this remark; however he did not know that i was studying third sector organizations and probably was trying to ask what i was scribbling about. as we now got on the dirt road the landrover plunged into the deep ruts of the uneven track and we staggered onward to the collective. within minutes the track left the highway and its blaring lorries and buses behind us. around us were immense granite rocks uneven and steeply plunging onto the red and sparsely forested soil around them. except for a couple of stunted trees all around us was barren. it was a typical deccan landscape. b explained that the track was built by the collective and so was the bridge. we now reached a gully and a cement bridge over it. this was a dam, also built by the collective. from here the track led straight to the collective. the landscape now began to change. we could see the hills that were visible earlier from the road. to our right, away from the collective was one that was sparsely wooded, topped with a fringe of black rocks. to our left, nearer the collective was another. this one however was green, with thickets of shrubs on much of its slope. b explained that this one had been tended by the collective while the other had been left alone, since it was too far away. by tended he meant that it had been protected, with grazers and their herds of goats sent away. though the entire area is a reserved forest, and thus protected by the state forest department, the forest officials were not able or willing to keep grazing under check. i discussed the ethics of keeping grazers away: surely they had a right to keep the goats there too? what did they say to keep them away? through bablu and later 1 we were told that herders were explained that the area was severely eroded and told they would be able to use the area later when it was wooded again. the collective has not faced any problems in sending herders away: presumably they are not militant and find easily enough other areas for grazing.

the track continues to a temple but we turned left and stopped at a garage'. it was really a wooden frame with thatch covering the top. surrounding it were trees and shrubs. behind was one of the hills, its crown of black rocks clear in the noon sunshine. next to the garage was a wide house. it was shaped in a half arc, and comprised three parts. there was a large courtyard in front of the house and to one side, a hummock, protected by the trees from the glare of the sun. to the far left was a kitchen. next to it were two residences, one of bablu's and the other where 1 stayed. we were also told of a guest house. for the rest of the afternoon we sat by the hummock, talking to bablu, his wife mary and their children. mary talked to us while laboring with a severe cold and the added weariness of preparing her children's departure for school after the vacation. two of her children (10 and 8) were studying at rishi valley while the youngest (5) was studying at the timbaktu school. during the rest of the day i would study this girl, her youngest daughter closely. she was a strikingly beautiful child, with her mother's fair and soft features and her father's assertiveness and probing eyes. she spoke only telugu, and it was incredibly incongruous to hear her speak the rustic and casually informal accent of the village, speaking the language with effortless ease. her mother told me that she had grown up here, and all her friends were children living in the villages. watching her i started to reflect on the ways we bring up children and i realized how different children become when they are separated from a surrounding and placed in another. this girl was separated from the setting that her elder brother and sister were in , the rishi valley environment. mary explained that the other two had made a similar move, with the eldest facing a severe difficulty in adjusting to the organized indian school system, and finally finding a place in rishi valley. mary was unsure if she could afford to place the youngest at rishi valley, given the stiff fees, fees that they already paid at subsidies rates. the middle girl was bold and moody, with dark eyes and a shock of cropped hair. she spoke in monosyllables and was not averse to showing skepticism and amused disparagement at our city ways. she would later show me a cat and her kittens, me threading a path to the barn, she using her bicycle. she was a fierce reader of an enid blyton book when i met her, one of the famous five series and as i suspected her favorite character was george, the tomboy who was prone to moodiness.

bablu and mary were part of the young india' project which worked in indian villages and had marxist leanings. they had met there. bablu's whole career had been with a project just a couple of hours away, across the hills. the aim of starting something of their own had been brewing within them for sometime, until they found the money to buy the land that became timbaktu.

they talked about their beliefs about education. "the government schools here are in horrible shape", b explained. "they have teachers who are utterly demotivated." "they make coffee, play cards, hunt deer." mary added. "teachers become part of local politics, and take sides with politicians. the students spend little time at school and parents don't mind that. they need help in the fields and they believe school's a waste of time anyway." "the girl child especially is treated very badly, and she is not seen as needing education at all." "so what we believe is there is a crying need for empathy and training-- we need to focus on education, but no one is doing that. the topic is neglected by aid agencies, and there is little funding from government.

"our aims are the removal of fear. of everything that causes fear in children. of life, of elders, of people, of things, of diffidence. we want them to be confident to look at us directly, without fear. then our aim is also to make them enjoy learning. they should want to learn not to have to learn. if you cant understand something you are going to dislike it. in most schools the way they teach makes you lose interest in learning. so you must enjoy liberty. then they wont need to be with us. because they would learn on their own. internally they would be much more capable. then at that time even government school is okay-- they can overcome it because they have internally been trained."
i asked about the content of teaching and the methods used. "we use different teaching methods. in government schools they teach alphabet writing but what we do is choose three letters that are used commonly. then we have them learn the many words that use these three letters... we have nature schools that teach folk dance, crafts, sewing, music, typing." later in the afternoon one of the current volunteers at timbaktu showed us the nature school. we drove in their landrover. it was a recent acquisition, about a year old. we returned to chennakothapalli, crossed the main street, drove past the office and stopped half a km further down the road. we passed a group of children wearing the familiar white and blue uniform of the government school. the volunteer waved at two of them who smiled and waved back, looking at me and shankar with fearless curiosity. he explained that they were former students in the residential school, now studying at the government school. this was a better move after they had been at timbaktu for sometime, he explained, because this way they were better prepared for the government education system.

to our left was a small building, made of cement and well-painted. inside i could hear the sound of children and the slowly enunciated voice of an older man. this was the nature school: there were 40 students who attended it, in groups of three. they were between 5 and 11 years in age. as we opened the gate we saw 11 children in a circle dancing and chanting. hey held pieces of wood with chimes embedded in them and they clacked them between their right hand-fingers as they moved in the circle. their instructor, one of the two teachers for the school greeted us. the school was described as "a space to enjoy childhood." the students were provided one meal daily in the school integrating their nutrition with local culture and practical skills. the intention of the school was to provide basic education and after that help them if they wish for more education. we entered the school building and the children re-started their dance. inside there were two large rooms that served as class-rooms. one of them had a large map of india and of andhra pradesh, both in telugu, and a standard chart of common animals like cows and tigers, their names in telugu. also in the room were equipment-- a sewing machine, a typewriter, material for some of the exercises. the teacher explained to us that the typewriter was not being used at the moment but would be used later. we were shown stacks of exercise sheets: every day the students completed a sheet each in telugu and in maths. the maths sheet had exercises designed to help the students understand why multiplication tabes were needed, what did they serve? to depict 5x1 the sheets showed five lines vertically and one horizontal line that cut them. such a graphic device served to illustrate the multiplication process, and made me realize that i had learnt the table as sheer rote learning. another method of teaching multiplication was to have the students trace ut the outlines of coins on paper and then explain how much, say, three 50 paise coins would make. through a window i watched the students dance. their teacher chanted a verse that they repeated and then followed his dance movements. the songs followed a simple call-and-respond cycle. one line would be phrased as a call, ending on an ascending and questioning note. then the next line was a response, in a descending note. with each call and response the circle moved, and the children danced inward and outward, making the circle's edges seem to flicker.

we asked about science. "science we teach only from Vth standard onward. usually within two to two and a half years they go to VIth standard. it is the same with english. at this time we also start giving exams." the school is four years old. the volunteer explained the philosophy of the school. there was to be no competition between the students. but this was not easy since it was difficult to avoid praise. but the idea was to "compete with yourself" not with others. part of the competition sprung up because of the need for tests. since the school was not recognized by the government it had to prepare the students for the government schools' exam systems and thus was compelled to use tests as a method of instruction. however the philosophy was expressed in other ways too, he said. on november 14th, children's day, prizes were given for al children, such as a fountain pen or a box with slate pencils.

where did the children come from? "their parents do coolie work, sell vegetables, or housemaids and so on. basically they are wage laborers. to them the free food is the main attraction. the children's health improves once they start going to school here. the difference is dramatic actually." i asked them how much food the children were given at the government school? at such schools the custom was to give 3 kilos of rice a month that the child took home. however food was not served to the child during the school hours. in contrast they claimed the nature school provided about 10 kilos per day in food. (i am unclear whether the 3 kilos figure was per child per month or total disbursed per month). i tried the cymbals (for want of a better word) that the children used. i found i could not move it in my hands. to me, part of a larger romantic melancholy i had been feeling some time, one of disenchantment from the 'real' india, one usurped by urban dwellers, the inability to play the cymbals seemed revealing, another indication of how i had become separated from my country's roots. however shankar handled it well as did the volunteer! this was a good moment from me: I sensed how i was constructing my own understanding of the situation based partly on my preconceptions. could i really not handle the cymbals or was i just not trying? and if i couldn't did this mean rootlessness or simply inadequate motor skills?!

we got back to the jeep. now we climbed up the road which swiftly declined to a deeply rutted dirt track. we were now on a series of ridges, surrounded by those enigmatic and solitary hills. we passed a small white temple high on the slope of one of these hills. below it was a small green patch, rice fields irrigated by a well fringed by trees. next to the fields the track turned sharply to the right and we staggered onward another kilometer. everything around us looked truly desolate. all that was visible was the series of hills, the expanse of rocks and scrags (?), occasional patches of fields, and in the distance the shimmering grey line of the horizon, some white birds prospecting in the paddy fields. however a closer look revealed people in this landscape: a pair of cows hauling a plough in a distant field, some huts, a van nearing on the track. the track took another sharp turn and we now found ourself on a narrow ridge. at the end of it was an isolated building. around it were fields, jowar, bajri, moong, toor dal crops. this was another school, catering for the local village. we were too late to see the students who had already left-- it was now past 4pm. but the teacher was there. she greeted us. she lived next to the school in a small cemented hut. the school room was similar to the one we had seen earlier. the volunteer asked how the attendance was? she replied that it was low, only about 14 or 20 out of 30 students. it was the time of groundnut harvesting. the children were in the fields helping their parents, earning extra money. the groundnut season was one of a sharp spurt in harvesting after which the lull returned. the attendance was about 3/4ths but the volunteer explained that it tended to be better usually. in contrast the government schools tend to start only after the teacher arrives there. teachers usually live in chennakothapalli which is the mandal headquarters. from there they travel daily by bus to the village where they teach. if the bus is canceled or delayed there is no school. so the students turn up only when they see the teacher arriving. children will come into the school room only after the teacher has arrived.

i stepped out to the field, looking at the crops. i was shown a groundnut plant and soon the driver pulled up a generous number of the plants. they were set ablaze and then the charred groundnuts popped. we ate the scorched peanuts silently, topping it off with a sip of water. i asked the volunteer if the farmers minded our trespassing and poaching the crop-- but he explained that we took a negligible amount and this minor poaching was common and accepted. a favorite pastime here the driver told me, was to burn the scrub and eat the remaining groundnuts with some chili and salt. earlier on the ride we had talked about the competition for salaries. to get a teacher to stay at the school the collective had to compete with government schools. if a government school had low enrollment it would not be allowed to continue so in one case the local government teacher had ensured that the collective's school was closed since he feared his survival. salaries had recently been revised, and now the maximum provided was 2200 a month, with a free house thrown in. the criteria for pegging the salary was education and experience-- a person with a completed or even partially completed undergraduate degree was valued as more skilled and paid more accordingly. the volunteer commented favorably on the village: there was lots of cooperation in this village. it was called chinna papeeta and had believed in the school to the extent that villagers built this school building, communal labor.

the volunteer now talked about the residential school and criteria for joining. the school was focussed on just disadvantaged children, specifically those from broken homes or suffering serious physical or mental trauma. the school was seen as a healing environment, away from the travails of their family life. recently a decision had been made that the school would charge a fee per month-- Rs 20. we talked about the extent this was appropriate. the volunteer explained that the thinking was to make the parents take it seriously-- to realize that education was an investment. he went on to say that the process was mutual-- the parents would take an active interest, eager to know how their money was being spent. the teachers would feel more accountable since they had to justify what they were doing to the parents. he then added that the money collected was to be put in a fund and given to each student when they graduate, as a fund for their use when they leave.

later in the evening,back at timbaktu, we climbed upto the top of one of the hills surrounding the land. by the time we got to the top it was twilight and the world around us was barely discernable, a dull twinkling landscape swiftly plunging into night. to the far right was the road winding away from chennakothapalli, now awash with the lights of trucks and buses, roaring away towards bangalore or anantapur. the farm dogs followed us and stood below the summit, panting, unable to climb the rocks. all around us was a deep silence, and the sky gradually glinted with stars. getting down was an adventure, trying to avid thorns, aware of sudden growling of the dogs which sensed some beast (a bear?!) and losing our way , slipping on the rocks.

during the dinner time we talked a little about the funding situation of the project. p? admitted readily that they were unable to fund the education component well: they had enough funding to cover the agriculture work of the collective but not its education work. there were questions that remained unanswered: what were future plans for education funding? where would timbaktu turn for education funding besides asha?

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