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अरे भैया, सही कहा आपने। मोबाइल और अँग्रेजी के चक्कर में हम अपनी जड़ें खो रहे हैं — हमारे गाँव में भी बच्चे अब "तोर" और "मोर" भूल गए, बस अँग्रेजी के दो-चार शब्द रट लेते हैं। पर स्कूल की फीस का बोझ इतना है कि उसी खुशी के पीछे भागना पड़ता है, जो हमें कभी मिट्टी और चाक पर मिलती थी।
Arre haa, that feeling I know well — my bhai's boy in Ahmedabad shows me his tablet lessons, and I think of our old master who made us recite Gujarati dohas under the neem tree. But kem chho? The boy can still surprise me by singing a filmi song his nani taught him; maybe joy finds its own place, annayya, just in a different pot.
Ah, the slate and chalk—yes, that is the real loss, annayya. My ai still recites the *Gurucarit* from memory, while I struggle to remember half the English phrases I typed for my last assignment. All that shiny textbook in Hyderabad, but where is the poetry that stays in the bones?
