As January 1, 1880, the planned date for inaugurating their new school, drew near, Tilak and [Vishnushastri Krushnashastri] Chiplunkar experienced a major shake-up that threatened to undo their enterprise even before it had begun. Chiplunkar was happy that four bright and educated young men were going to join forces with him to establish a private educational institution that would match those set up by the government in quality and at the same time differ from state-run schools in the kind of education it offered by focusing on the idea of a national consciousness that drew from India’s culture and heritage.
On the day of the launch at the Morobadada Fadnis Wada premises in the Budhwar Peth locality of Poona, three of the original core team were nowhere to be seen. Two of them, Bhagwat and Karandikar, had backtracked abruptly, presumably out of fear of a hostile reaction from the Raj. Agarkar, on the other hand, had deferred his involvement: he had failed his final year MA exam, and he wanted to clear it before he came in. Thus, it was Tilak and Chiplunkar who did the opening on their own.
But despite the initial hiccup, this opening partnership blossomed, and an entire team was eventually built, counting among its members Gopal Krishna Gokhale, the man Gandhi would call his mentor. Tilak himself laid a very solid ground for reaching great heights in his career. Few people get to build even a single institution in their early years in public life. Tilak got to build four in his first decade, from 1880 to 1890 – a school, two powerful newspapers, and a college.
He joined a fifth institution, the Indian National Congress, which he later turned almost single-handedly into the vehicle of a mass movement for India’s liberation. With his writings in one of his papers, the Marathi language Kesari, in particular, he blazed a trail that ignited Indian minds and aspirations and transformed the very manner in which subjugated people communicated and interacted with their racially minded colonial oppressors.
Many people gleefully predicted the quick demise of the school, Chiplunkar said later. First, there was an apparent incongruity in the aim of the institution and the medium of its instruction. It was going to be called the New English School, and the principal language of teaching was going to be English though it was more accurately bilingual as Marathi was also going to be taught simultaneously. Tilak and Chiplunkar were committed to building up the self-respect of Indians, and Tilak openly said they were troubled by the state of the country and saw that education alone could turn things around. In the same breath, both the founders wanted Indian languages to grow and come into their own. Sceptics saw the adoption of the colonisers’ language as incompatible with the idea of inspiring national self-confidence, though Marathi was going to be taught from Class 1 to 3 and Sanskrit from Class 4 to 6 along with English.
Soon afterwards, the school’s founders made it clear, while presenting their views before the Education Commission, the local governing body for education headed by the official William Wilson Hunter, that they had started a “private English school” for four reasons.
One, popular demand for English education was high, and Chiplunkar in particular saw English as “the milk of the tigress”, a language of empowerment because of the vast streams of information and knowledge it contained.
Two, they aimed to stop what they termed as the “de-nationalisation” of Indians studying in English schools by running such schools themselves and imparting lessons that didn’t merely glorify the British, their history and their culture; secondary education, especially, they felt, “checked the free growth of national character through the operation of the monotonously uniform system of instruction conducted upon English models and English tastes . . . and the adoption of textbooks like Morris’ history, the tenor of which was to magnify British influence and British power and to lower and degrade Indian men and manners”.
Three, they wanted to actually end the “suppression of vernaculars as media of instruction” by steadily placing Indian languages at par with English in these schools so that knowledge could be diffused like the “Despatch of 1854” had stated, “through the medium of the English language and the vernacular languages of India together”.
Four, they “confidently hoped” they would be able to take control of government high schools “within 8 to 10 years” so that education would be in the hands of “natives” if the government was willing to help them by introducing “a more liberal and less interfering” system of grants-in-aid. Essentially, they wanted to enter the system to change the system. A tall order.
Students at the time matriculated if they cleared Class 7, and the New English School would have classes leading up to matriculation; in the final year, while English of course would be a subject, out of Marathi and Sanskrit the students could choose one for their “second language” paper. Also, in keeping with their aim of giving equal importance to Indian languages, the use of the local language was going to be made wherever possible, ensuring a possible hybrid language model. For example, one of the textbooks for students in Class 6 was going to be KL Chhatre’s “Physics”, which was in Marathi.
But even if the school tried to stay afloat somehow, the critics asked, where were the funds going to come from? No government grants would be available, and as far as donors were concerned, would there be enough who contributed adequately over a period of time? In this respect, the founders even appeared to have scored a self-goal before starting. They had decided to adopt a version of the Jesuitical principle of public service, where they would do everything for the institution but take only the bare minimum pay to keep body and soul intact.
There would be no religious teachings, however, though the founders were Hindus, so unlike Jesuit institutions, there was little hope of generating a lot of funds from faith-based institutions. And the school’s motto was “making education affordable and easier”, which meant charging lower fees than government-run schools, making the build-up of finances harder. So, while the Poona High School, the biggest state-run school in the city, charged Re 1 as the fee for the first three years, the New English School would charge 12 annas; for Classes 4 and 5, the two schools would charge Rs 2 and Rs 1.5 respectively, and for Classes 6 and 7 the fees would be Rs 3 and Rs 2 respectively. As it turned out, Tilak and Chiplunkar didn’t take any salary in the first year at all. How long was such an arrangement based on altruistic idealism going to last?
Excerpted with permission from Tilak: The Empire’s Biggest Enemy, Vaibhav Purandare, Penguin India.
