Each one has a Taliban

They all looked alike. De sexed is the right word. I could not differentiate for a while that there were girls too among what I thought to be a group of boys. My eyes took note of a few swollen breasts. I asked in shock, “ Are there girls too in the group?”
“ Yes,” came a flat reply. The woman who answered my query too had hid her hair under a white turban. She had a tuft of hair on her chin. In a cosmetic age, I was impressed by her courage to be herself. But, she had reached an age when genders could not be disguised. They become apparent by expanding pelvis and breasts. Girls and boys close to puberty can look so much alike, I learnt for the first time. They had tied their hair under a turban in similar fashion, their dress too was neutral to their gender. They wore genderless appearance.
I had many more things to learn that day.
I was invited by a prestigious residential school to help their teachers and students hone creative skills in writing.
After what seemed like a very impressive tour of the facilities, that included smart classes, language laboratory, an impressive library, computer lab, and a counseling room, I was left to interact with students of class twelfth. I began an informal chat about creative people and how they bring harmony and peace to life. I realized, the class had only girls. When I thought I was beginning to strike a rapport, one of the girls stood up to say what I said was all hoax. “ You cannot understand how we live, all this creativity is for free birds like you, not for us, we are jailed. We are not allowed to keep a mirror, we are forced to go for paath (chanting) at four every day, I hate God if he causes such torture, I hate my parents for leaving me in this torture cell, and I hate all teachers! ”
I was aghast, yet, impressed by her defiance. She had a lot that was begging to be expressed.
Once she removed the lid, others made me see a lot more. I was aware of my limitation as an outsider, yet I tried to lessen their pain by narrating tales of horror of living under supervision of nuns during my years of growing up. I talked of long hours of commuting for students in a metro, of many more compromises that we make in life ( I just did by concealing the name of the institution), when teachers and nuns are not there to force things down our gullet.
Yet, I was painfully aware of the fact that a girl blossoms into youth only once in her life span and she wants to feel beautiful during those years. She wants to look beautiful and would like to see it reflected in other pair of eyes. The same goes for boys. Youth wants expression in a youthful parlance, no amount of paath can substitute this need.
Why do boarding schools follow a regimen to prepare for a way of life that is never going to be of any use? Getting up at three to take bath will not be of any use to those thousand students the boarding has, it will only make them hate life and God. It will hamper germination of true spirituality. Their hatred for authority will find resonance in many other relationships. What will be their reference point beyond religion to face a complex life ahead? Why do all communities create their Talibans, why do all Talibans open their madarsas?
I felt helpless. Creativity can be used for sublimating mind, it lacks power of a bomb disposal squad.

Picture/flickr/Turban/ Arriving at the horizon