Shobha Ramswamy

The Tata Agricultural and Rural Training Centre for the Blind does much more than provide vocational training to sightless students. It heals their spirit and instils in them the vision to take on the world

Should you ever find yourself at the bus stop in Phansa, a village in Gujarat, at 5.30 am, you will not fail to see Badri Prasad, the local milkman. This is the hour when he makes his way to the nearby United Phosphorus factory to deliver milk. He sits down by the road, waiting for the bus. But for those who know him, no one would suspect that Badri Prasad is blind. Such is the air of confidence about him.

The self-assurance is a result of the training imparted by the Tata Agricultural and Rural Training Centre for the Blind (TACEB). The Centre has trained Prasad in agricultural, dairy and poultry farming, making handicrafts, and cultivating fruits and vegetables. Above all, it has taught him the undeniable truth that blindness cannot stop him from making his own way in the world. Which is why a grateful Prasad chose to stay on as an auxiliary employee of TACEB.

Prasad is not the only one to acknowledge the debt. In the Centre's office lobby hangs a picture of Jawaharlal Nehru felicitating a student. That student, Laxman Master, has been with TACEB since its inception. He has taught himself English, Hindi, Marathi, Gujarati and arithmetic in Braille. Today he passes on his knowledge to students.

Scores of students have passed through the portals of TACEB and all have benefited immensely from it. Registered as a public charitable trust with the Charity Commissioner, Maharashtra, the Centre was set up with a grant from the Sir Dorabji Tata Trust, which has been actively involved in running it ever since. The Centre admits blind students, aged 16 to 35, into its residential courses for agricultural, handicrafts, weaving, dairy and vegetable farming, and Braille.

The complete lack of options for the blind in rural areas led the Trust to donate Rs 2 lakh to the National Association of the Blind. The association established TACEB in collaboration with the Royal Commonwealth Society for the Blind. The funds were used to buy 250 acres of land in Phansa, where blind adults could be trained in agriculture, horticulture, fishing, and poultry and dairy farming as a means of earning their living.

While the Centre occupies about 50 acres of land, the rest is used for the cultivation of rice and sugarcane, for sapota and mango orchards, and coconut groves. The income earned from selling the produce helps the Centre manage itself without charging its trainees. The government of Gujarat also chips in with a small monetary grant. The duration of each course is two years. The training is provided free to students. Food and lodging costs are subsidised by the government.

Once training is complete, the students are sent to a cooperative society to get acclimatised to the world outside. Here they are encouraged to use the education they have received. When the Centre is convinced that the student has learnt all he or she can, it begins to consider ways of rehabilitation. The Centre's success rate has been an encouraging 60 per cent.

The Centre spares no effort in its aim to empower destitute, blind people by teaching them a trade. It is not an easy task. "The first six months of a student's life here are spent in brooding," says Akshaybhai Ramanuj, a coordinator, with TACEB.

Describing the experience of a new recruit, Mr Ramanuj says, "When they arrive, they're usually half starved. When the lunch bell rings, they make a beeline for the hall and gobble up the food. They're used to eating all they can at one go because earlier most of them didn't know when they would get their next meal. They're used to being everyone's last priority. We feed them all they can eat. When they realise that they can expect regular, filling meals three times a day, their intake stabilises, and their will to work comes to the fore."

Meanwhile, interactions with other students also help. The new student is escorted around the campus. Initially students go to the handicrafts centre, where they get used to working by touch. During their leisure time they walk around the verdant campus or enjoy music sessions on the tabla, dholak and harmonium.

The new entrant starts by weeding farm beds. "You can easily tell them from the old-timers," says Mr Ramanuj. "While the older ones go about their work purposefully, the new ones pick listlessly at the grass."

Instructors face the difficult task of instilling in them a sense of self-worth. All their lives, they have been confined by their impairment to the fringes of ability in a society that prides itself on a skewed sense of normalcy. Getting them to believe in themselves is a tough job. Unlike other charitable organisations, TACEB's work doesn't end with the training. "We don't just send them out with a certificate," says Mr Ramanuj. "Our real test is how they apply and implement what they've learnt to make a living in the real world."

Resettlement is a challenge. Students are given resources to help them earn a steady income. Mangal, from Moti Vahiyad, a hamlet in the Kaprad taluka, and his two brothers owned seven acres of land. "When Mangal graduated from the Centre, TACEB provided him with a 1,000-foot HDC pipeline and an engine to pump water up 50 feet to his plot," explains Gajjubhai Naik, a recruitment and resettlement officer.

Mangal has achieved much on the strength of the Centre's aid. Previously the brothers could only manage one crop during the rainy season. Now, thanks to Mangal's subterranean water pipeline, they can farm throughout the year. This harvest, the brothers are expecting at least two truckloads of saleable watermelon crop.

Sunil Silena started out as a disbeliever. This teenager's dreams of becoming a computer programmer went up in smoke when he lost his sight after his 12th-standard examinations. He lost interest in life and gave in to depression. A well-meaning friend brought him to TACEB. There are absolutely no traces of that depressed youngster today. The groping fingers that pluck away weeds and tuck in fresh soil around a budding ladyfinger stalk belong to a confident Mr Silena, who knows his dreams are in sight, even though he can't see them. Having started with the handicrafts department, he learned Braille and weaving before settling for farming.

"These boys come here with broken hearts and broken minds," says Mr Ramanuj. "Our hardest battle is with a broken spirit." His statement is confirmed by Ganpatbhai Gahmal Singh Padhiyar, head of training, dairy department, "When they arrive at our Centre, they come burdened with their own personal sorrows and shattered dreams," he says. "The pain eases with time, but no student is ready to leave until his spirit has healed."

Most of the Centre's produce is used to feed the students. The surplus is distributed in different ways: excess milk is sold to the United Phosphorus factory; the handicrafts are gifted to donors and visitors; and the delectable Alphonso mangoes find their way to Bombay House every year.

Generally, the Centre sells enough to meet the requirements of its students. However, the Sir Dorabji Tata Trust contributes towards the rehabilitation of the students, whenever required. Over the years, TACEB alumni have become farmers, dairymen, delivery boys, tradesmen, musicians, and even priests. The Centre has helped them to grow beyond their disability.

Meanwhile, it is harvest time and everyone lends a hand. It is time to reap the fruits of their labour. Badri Prasad, Laxman Master and others can rightly feel proud of themselves for helping others, who have lost their sight, to regain their vision.

Uploaded on March 2005