Fall 07: Jhumka Gira Re...

Sonia carpenters a NIFT in Rae Bareli. But it's a couture shock for the locals, as well as the fashionista.

Fall 07: Jhumka Gira Re...
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F
kuchch hat ke
Fashion engineer banne ko jute honhaar
honhaar
It's the time to disco
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Students inside the NIFT campus

As they dance the evening away, watched by wide-eyed canteen boys and about five billion monsoon insects, we set out to discover what Rae Bareli thinks of NIFT. Well, the political message has filtered down to the mithai-shop level, and it doesn't have much to do with fashion. "Rae Bareli mein NIFT khula, Lucknow mein nahin (not in Lucknow, but Rae Bareli)," says Sunil Jaiswal of Om Sweets with satisfaction. This comment reflects the aspiration of Rae Bareli—forsaken by the Gandhi family from 1980 to 2004—for the fruits of renewed proximity to the first family. This stretches from basics like bijli, sadak, pani and rozgari, to symbols of gentrification like the upmarket Ryan International School, also brought here by Sonia, and the footwear design and petroleum management institutes that will, like NIFT, bring in students from across India. "Madam ki soch hai ki bachche kone kone se aayein, padhein, aur yahan ke bachchon ko prerna mile (Madam feels outside students coming here will inspire local kids)," intones Sonia's local PR man, Sunil Srivastava.

However, local sentiment, like fashion, comes in many hues. At the Feroze Gandhi Degree College, lively Anupama Singh and her salwar-kameezed friends voice a disconnect with NIFTians that is a mirror image of what the new arrivals think of Rae Bareli. "Yeh bahut hi-fi log hain," says Anupama. "Atpate kapde pehenti hain, kuch zyada hi tight, aur subah-sham make-up (These are hi-fi people, they wear odd clothes, rather too tight, and 24-hour make-up)." "Ek ko suna tha kehte hue, ham kis jungle mein aa gaye. Kya yeh jungle hai (I heard one of them saying, what jungle have we come to! Does this place look like a jungle)?" she asks, gesturing indignantly. Durgesh Singh has a more wistful take: "These girls and boys talk freely to each other. That's how it should be—the girls here are too shy, they never talk to us." "It's good if it opens up opportunities for us," says Juhi Bajpai, but balks at the Rs 3 lakh fee for the four-year course. "How many of us can raise that kind of money?"

The college's faculty, while pleased that four local kids have got into NIFT, are also eager to dissect what the proximity of NIFT and other professional institutions really means for Rae Bareli's youth. The brightest local kids might make the cut, they argue, but the vast majority are left out of the race for professional institutions. "The basic educational infrastructure is so poor, the students are so lacking in exposure, that even if you bring in Harvard you won't achieve much," says R.K. Trivedi, who teaches psychology. "You also need some interface, for instance, like workshops, between traditional educational institutions like ours and new ones like NIFT. Otherwise we will be living in different worlds." Ghanshyam Mishra, a science graduate who couldn't clear NIFT and other exams for professional colleges, couldn't agree more, "It shouldn't be that all these new institutions are chirag tale andhera, just lamps in the darkness." The wishlist is growing, and growing, Soniaji. NIFT needs brands, malls and Baristas; and Rae Bareli needs education, education, and more education.

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