We waited for our audience to enter the building. Being a Sunday, the concourse filled leisurely. Finally, I viewed a visibly ecstatic and impatient crowd of students. The chief storyteller of our group, Aparna Dixit, began her narration with transcendent zeal. Her captivating narration was incentivised by the presence of chocolates – which were exhausted at regular intervals by students answering her questions to sufficient levels.
To induce a higher comprehension of the description, we volunteers were also presented with the task of carrying pictorial representations of the more convoluted concepts of Sushruta’s life. The rapt attention of the students coupled with their eagerness to answer (partly spurred by the appearance of chocolates) supported the addition of knowledge to that of the students. In the latter quarter of the workshop, our team distributed pens and cupcakes to the pupils. With broad grins etched on the faces of our audience, our band left the premises.
The animated narration of our storyteller defenestrated the mundane attitude normally attributed to students of the age group. Instead, we witnessed the alacrity and willingness to learn of students. The dramatic account was complete with gesticulations, visual aids and flourishes of a storyteller – inviting happiness to the hearts of the children. Their sharp minds were by no chance hindered by their lack of resources or poverty.
If the impoverished rose from their current stupor, our country would be synonymous with excellence and brilliance, radiating in every field. I began to dismember my previous correlation of resources with knowledge. The Q and A session which interrupted the concourse every few minutes was the highlight of the day. From a discussion on the profession of doctors to the comparison of army men and physicians to near-gods, the edifying conversation depicted their innate feelings of the subject at hand. Another visit, I should fancy myself as a volunteer or even a storyteller.