Those schools which follow their own administrative regulations, financial support and managing strategy are termed as Independent schools. Independent schools also known as private schools, they mostly provide primary level and secondary level of education. These schools totally depends up on the funds and gifts collected by tuition fee. Board of directors are basically responsible for the administrative functions of these independent schools. Some independent schools also offer boarding facilities.

The main motto of these independent schools is to provide best education to their students, with which they can strongly compete any of the big competition. Independent schools select their students by their own admission criteria. Some students due to their great performance acquired scholarships in these private schools, and they have to pay reduced fee. Scholarship is totally depend up on the student talent. Teachers who are teaching in these independent schools are getting higher salary, these schools also provide low students in comparison to teacher ratio. AS these private schools are not getting any financial support from the government, they are totally free to develop their own management and curriculum standards, these schools have their own admission process which is mandatory for everyone.

When you are looking for girls school for your girl, then there are few things which you need to check before admitting your girl child in it. It is essential to take suggestion of different parents who have their child studying in these schools, they will give you the true information about the standard of that school, their teaching staff support, students variety and finally a good environment. There are so many girls schools in your surroundings which provides boarding facilities and give their full time in their students overall development.

Buying “local” food and supporting local farmers and their local produce is one bullet point mantra often touted to be far more sustainable than buying food at a supermarket that belongs to a big company. The main claim for this is that local produce has very low transport costs (from the farm near by to the market), so the carbon footprint for this produce is extremely low. This then would mean that it is far less energy consuming and in the long term far more sustainable.

For a while I thought this was a compelling argument, and sometimes pondered over how guilty I should feel for not heading out to the local farmer’s market to buy “local” produce. But then, ever the skeptic, I decided to actually see if this was true.

First of all, at least in most of the US, local food now means food grown not necessarily 10 miles from the city, but within the state. Obviously, there are many cities near which there is no significant farming/agricultural land growing wheat, corn, fruit and vegetables. While Dallas does have farms a hundred miles or so from it, “local” predominantly means within the state of Texas. But since Texas is almost three times the size of France with most of the population in the four large urban centers (Dallas-Fortworth, Houston, San Antonio and Austin) it is very likely that a significant portion of the “local” food is being trucked across hundreds of miles from various rural, agricultural parts of the state to the cities. So that immediately weakens the distance and high energy consumption argument.

But could it still be possible for me to be more energy efficient (and our food more sustainable) if I shopped at a farmers market and not at a supermarket chain? Here is what some simple but rigorous calculations suggest:

Dallas has a lovely farmers market as well as other stores that sell local produce extensively. All of them are located around 8-10 miles from home. So a return trip is about 20 miles by car, through significant traffic. In addition, these stores only sell produce, so if I need a toothbrush or soap or any other daily use produce, I need to head out to a pharmacy or a general store to buy it. So if I get my food from a farmers market my gas consumption will be about gallon of gas a week (or over 50 gallons of gas a year). It also is a significant investment of my time.

In contrast, we live about 500 yards from a supermarket owned by Safeway/Tom Thumb, which is at the end of the street our house is in. It is the typical big American supermarket which sells everything from food and produce to kitchen towels and brooms. In our case, shopping is done on the way back from work without any detour, and on occasion I walk down to the store to pick up stuff. The total extra annual gas consumption for our shopping is zero gallons. In addition, it also saves a lot of time during the week since there is no need to make additional shopping trips for items of daily use that is not food or produce.

All of this only considers individual energy consumption (which can be quite significant), and does not go into the significant energy efficiencies brought about by economies of scale achieved by larger supermarket chains.

There is tremendous value in local food and local crops, and there should be a significant space for it. But even a simple hard look suggests that it is not necessarily a more “sustainable” and energy efficient method of food production. The more I research these issues (and those around “slow food”), the more it seems like they are largely seductive rants against corporations and globalization. Where there remains much value in these ideas, and they should be encouraged, they will not meet any rigorous analysis of sustainability and energy efficiency unless one uses similar eyewash metrics that large, inefficient corporations use.

(For a fascinating and rigorous information on a host of these issues, Just Food is an excellent read).

“Inherit the wind” was a thinly veiled fictionalization of the Scopes trial, a case in 1925 that tested the Butler act which prohibited the teaching of the theory of evolution, or any theory that denied creation as told in the Bible in schools. John Scopes, a high school teacher in Tennessee, was charged with teaching evolution in schools, and put on trial. It became a battleground between fundamentalists who believed in an absolute and literal version of the bible, and modernists, reformers and thinkers; people like Spencer Tracy’s fictional Henry Drummond (based on the real life Clarence Darrow) who thought that an idea was bigger than any monument man could build.

Watching “Inherit the wind” today, fifty years after it was made; one is struck by both the power of the screenplay and story, as well as the ability of the director to confront a serious issue head on, with no punches spared. The Scopes trial itself was fought by two of the best lawyers and orators in America at that time, three time presidential candidate and staunch Presbyterian, William Jennings Bryan, who prosecuted, and Darrow, who fought for the defense of Scope. In Kramer’s movie, Durrow becomes Spencer Tracy’s Henry Drummond, and Fredric March’s Matthew Brady is strongly based on Bryan. The first few scenes of the movie suggest for a few moments that the characters will all be painted with a broad brush of stereotypes, with Brady entering the town to rousing chants of “some old time religion”. But everything changes once Drummond appears on screen, and the entry into the courtroom. The sheer ferocity of the courtroom drama and the power of each argument make you forget those early moments of awkwardness, and suck you right into the battle. The sequences of incidents in court that lead Drummond to utter frustration in the courtroom are built brilliantly. First Drummond is not allowed to call upon any experts in anatomy or geology, anthropology, archeology or astronomy, with his pleas being dismissed as “irrelevant” to the case. The case was about trying Cates (the character based on Scopes) for teaching evolution, which was against the law. It was as simple as that. Nor was Drummond allowed to read out passages from “The origin of species”, even as Brady proudly declares that he has not read the origin, and has no need to read any work of paganism and the work of Satan. Drummond’s moments of frustration can only be described as masterly. Finally, Drummond has to fight the case using the Bible itself as the sole reference.

Putting Brady on the witness box, Drummond systematically hammers away at passages from the Bible, which if taken literally can only be absurd. If the earth was created in seven days, asks Drummond, and the sun and the moon and stars were only created on the fifth day, then before the fifth “day”, what would a day be? Would it just be a day, or a year, or a million years? To these and other pointed thrusts, Brady remains unperturbed, and only remarks that he did not think about it, because the Bible didn’t talk about it. Drummond leaps upon this point and says that it is precisely the problem, that people here did not think, and the only person who thought about it and talked about it has been put on trial, only for his “right to think”. As Drummond builds his argument, and the single minded fanatism of Brady (and the townsfolk) comes more into prominence, Tracy’s firm, crisp voice almost seems like a thunderous shout as he says fanatism and ignorance always remain busy and need feeding. The entire movie is a masterpiece of courtroom drama, with actors and script rising spectacularly above the merely good to elevate this movie towards true brilliance.

Even between these extended periods of stupendous drama from Drummond and Brady, there are little moments to cherish. When Mrs. Brady is confronted by Rachel Brown, the torn, tormented fiancé of Cates, on why her husband, who Cates trusted and confided in, twisted her words in court to make Cates appear diabolically evil, Mrs. Brady snaps back that at least she believes in her husband, and believes in something, and that makes it her basis for living. What did Rachel believe in? And could she stand for anything at all? In another lull between courtroom storms, Drummond and Brady spend an evening chatting about old times, and Brady asks Drummond why they moved so far apart, and Drummond responds that perhaps Brady had just stood still while he himself had continued to move forward. And while having dinner with Mrs. Brady, Drummond says that he would still perhaps have voted for Brady for president, but if Brady did indeed become president, he would have been his loudest opponent shouting from the opposition bench. The contradictions and complexities of human emotions stand out between, during and within the intense moments in the courtroom.

And then there is Gene Kelly, as the caustic “Baltimore Herald” reporter E.K. Hornbeck, who covers the case, and whose newspaper pays the entire cost of the defense as well as Drummond’s expenses. His character is a throw back to a time when journalists still had names with two initials (are there any left today other than A.O. Scott?), who fought with their words as if they were bare-knuckled fighters, who confronted issues head on, and cowered before no one. Cynical, terse and sarcastic. In a last scene with Drummond, Drummond snaps back at Hornbeck’s cynicism, saying he would die alone, and that no body would mourn for him or appear at his funeral. Hornbeck smiles and says he knows that even if no one came, Drummond would be there, and would fight to the last for his right to be alone. The right to think, the right to speak, the right to question authority, and to stand for the truth. All powerful ideas, yet ideas that have shaped this nation unlike any others.

In the very last scene, we are left with Drummond picking up his copy of “The origin of species”, and then the Bible, smiling, and clasping them together. What does he mean by that? Is it a reconciliation or a preparation for battles to come?

Through those lyrics from Ishqiya, Gulzaar’s zany mind conjures up an improbable road song, full of carefree spirit and an imagery of freedom and lust for travel. Yet who was Ibn-batuta, what was his story, and why is he remembered even today (at least by a few) in distant India?

Now somewhat forgotten by history, Ibn-batuta might well have been one of the greatest travelers of all time. A few years before Marco Polo set off on his memorable voyage to Cathay, Ibn-Batuta, born in Morocco in the then backwater trading town of Tangier, set upon a voyage which took him almost his entire life, and by the end of which he had travelled across north Africa and Asia all the way to China and back. A staggering distance, more than twice that of what Marco Polo accomplished, and all because he wanted to see all places on earth that comprised of “dar-ul-Islam”, the lands where Islam had spread and where Islamic law took prominence. At the end of his journey the ruler of Morocco told him to write the story of his travels to the very ends of the earth, in the form of the classic travel chronicle of the time in Arabic, the Rihla. And the result is a rollicking adventure across the lands that were the richest and most prosperous in the world at that time, in the early 14th century.

While his story remained unknown to the west until the last couple of centuries, his rihla had been widely read in the wider “Islamic world” which covered most of Asia. Since then, translations into English and French brought his story to the west. Reading Ross E. Dunn’s version of Ibn-Batuta however puts his story into marvellous perspective. Dunn uses his considerable knowledge of medieval Islamic civilizations across the world to describe the Sindbad like adventures of Ibn-Batuta, while simultaneously describing the conflicts, rulers and political climate of the time in the various lands travelled by Batuta. Through the story of Ibn-batuta Dunn is able to describe how even very diverse lands would have been easily traversible by a muslim of learning. Ibn-Batuta was an educated muslim, trained from childhood in arabic, Islamic law, religion and practice. So when Ibn-Batuta set off on his first journey (ostensibly to perform his “haj”, his pilgrimage to Mecca), his knowledge of Arabic and the quran alone would have sufficed for him to be sure to be welcomed (or at least offered shelter) in all the lands he travelled through. Yet, the time of his journey was also one of the most remarkable times in human history. A few centuries earlier Islam had spread rapidly, through both trade and the sword, across Asia, North Africa and a large part of Europe. This was partly because the Arabs were intrepid travellers and traders, and sat right at the middle of a great trade network that connected Europe from ancient times to the wealth of India and China. The Arabs ruled both the land (through their horse and camel caravans) and sea routes (with dhows that plied across the Indian ocean and Arabian sea). Yet, at that time, various events had taken place to make the world a place of great innovation, trade and prosperity as well as political turmoil. The Al-mohads had lost their hold on Spain and Iberia (al-Andalus), and the caliphate had collapsed. In Asia, the hurricane-like forces of Genghis Khan and his vast Turko-mongol armies had swept down the central Asian steppes and overrun the lands of the Khwarizm, Babylon and Persia. After his death, Genghis’ descendants squabbled (while still ostensibly under a great Khan), and the empire split into many smaller pieces. Many of these, in Central Asia, came under the strong Persian and Arabic influences, and under these influences converted to Islam. Meanwhile the Mamluks remained strong in Egypt and parts of Arabia and held off the mongols, so while Baghdad had been destroyed by the mongols, Cairo and Damascus and Shiraz remained (and grew) as great centers of Islamic learning. With the fall of Islamic Spain, muslim scholars and men (women, unfortunately, got the short end of the straw in those days) came to these cities, helping their growth as vibrant places of culture. At this same time, the great trading cultures of Venice, Genoa, Florence and what was left of the Byzantine kingdom sent fleets across the Mediterranean, and central Asia, the heart of Islam, became the great melting pot of people and ideas. And finally, even though there were so many kingdoms, it was a rare time of relative peace. The Mongols were still somewhat united under the great Khan, they had made peace with the Mamluk rulers of Egypt, Arabia and Syria, the mongol invasion had made peace possible between Christian Europe and the muslim Arabs, and India itself was largely united under the new Islamic Delhi Sultanate. It was across these lands that Ibn-batuta travelled.

Of course, Batuta dictated his rihla when he was old, at the end of his travels, so some of his dates are slightly off, or the precise place where he met certain people of that time a little skewed. Yet, his accounts remain amongst the best and most descriptive of all the lands he traversed through at that time. Batuta perhaps did start out only to complete his haj, but as he went from what was then a provincial town (Tangier) into the magnificent metropolis that was Cairo (perhaps the largest city in the world then), and then Damascus and into Persia, there was no stopping his wanderlust. For a man of some learning, these places were the wonders of the world. Ibn-Batuta was also an odd mix of scholar, pilgrim, muslim puritan, sufi believer, curious traveller, rogue, yet person of the pleasures of the world. Thus, his descriptions contain an amusing, sometimes conflicting mixture of all these attributes. Yet what made him such a great traveller was undoubtedly what must have been an engaging and friendly personality. He made friends, often with eminent people of the region, with ease. And while imagining himself to be very proper and correct, Batuta appeared to have an extraordinary ability to flatter persons of importance, who were often so pleased with him that they showered him with generous gifts. Through his traveling acquaintances, he was also able to meet most of the rulers of the realms he passed through. And with each subsequent destination, his renown as a great traveller increased, thereby enabling him to command even greater respect. An indication of his abilities particularly with flattery is seen even in his rihla, when the ruler of Morocco asked him to name the great kings of the time. Without blinking an eyelid, Batuta clubbed the relatively minor kingdom of Morocco with the great kingdom of the Mamluks in Egypt and Syria, and the grand Sultanate of Delhi and the Khanate of Mongol China. Similarly, when he met the Chagatai ruler (then one of the smaller Mongol Ilkhanates), he told him that all these kings were equally great, and all were magnificent, earning himself great rewards.

Through his version of Ibn-Batuta’s tale, Ross points out that though Ibn-Batuta travelled through so many different lands, it would have been so easy for a learned muslim to make those travels without knowing any of the local languages or customs. Batuta’s background as an arabic scholar of sharia (Islamic law) made him a particularly valuable visitor to those lands where muslim kings ruled over vast majorities of non-muslims (such as the Sultan of Delhi, in India), and where learned muslims were in great demand. And, like most travelers across unknown or dangerous lands, Batuta jumps from situations of great fortune to great misfortune, but emerges out of them only with the desire to see more lands. In his travels he acquires gifts, great wealth, horses and camels, slaves, friends and many wives, only to loose them or abandon them and then promptly acquire new ones or reacquire old ones. Batuta’s stories of India were of particular interest to me, and Dunn also does a wonderful job of describing Delhi as records say it was when Batuta landed up there after years of travel in Central Asia. A vast part of the Indian subcontinent, from the fabled Khyber pass through the Gangetic plains all the way down south to the deccan were ruled by the sultans of Delhi, and the current incumbent was Mohammad-bin-Tuglaq. Tuglaq ruled at a time when the Sultanate was at it’s zenith, and yet was on the verge of collapse. His kingdom was vast (the largest it would ever be under the Delhi sultans), rich with resources and people, and was bursting at the seams. Tuglaq was an eccentric of the strangest sort; a visionary, a tyrant, a petty ruler, a scholar, a reformer and a deeply religious man all at once. All these qualities were in conflict with each other, so it wasn’t a surprise that his rule was becoming increasingly schizophrenic. Much of Batuta’s colorful descriptions of the Delhi court have come to us from other historical sources, and there remain so many descriptions of Tuglaqs eccentricities that the word “tuglaq” has become a common noun to describe odd behavior in many Indian languages. The sultan would one day befriend or reward a scholar, and the very next day decide to behead him. Having decided that he couldn’t trust anyone around him, Tuglaq decided to appoint only unknown foreigners in his court, and it was here that Batuta presented himself. Tuglaq made Batuta the qadi/kazi (judge) of Delhi, gave him a great salary and set off to suppress some revolt in the Deccan. Batuta paints a colorful picture of the intrigue in the Delhi court, where everyone was unsure of his fate, yet tried to outdo the other in outward pomp, so everyone raked up huge debts. Finally, unable to take it any more, Batuta tries to escape, is prevented from doing so, and then is sent with some visiting Chinese ambassidors to the court of China. So he makes his way to the south Indian coast of Malabar, gets robbed (escaping only with his trousers and nothing else), encounters numerous wars and conflicts between the local chiefs, gets shipwrecked, then makes his way to the Maldive islands. Here he is immediately appointed judge, marries multiple local women of influence, complains about the local customs, tries to overthrow the small kingdom there, fails and still escapes. His writings portray wonderfully the confusion and intrigue that existed amongst all the smaller Indian kingdoms, and the conflict between Islamic lords and smaller Hindu chiefs and the greater population, even though he remains true to himself in his travelogue, and only talks about everything from his own perspective. Even though Batuta cares little about the common population, his occasional references to events involving commoners portray a rare picture of medieval India.

As he continues his travels all the way through south east Asia to China, all the while being welcomed into muslim communities in each of these lands, it becomes increasingly apparent to modern readers like us just how vast, prosperous and powerful the Islamic networks of those times were. And more than just the sword, it becomes increasingly clear how much of a role trade (and trading guilds) played in the spread of this faith. Also, unlike the historians of any particular kingdom (say those of the Mamluks or the Delhi Sultans) Batuta was just a traveler through these lands, and so his own accounts provide a different perspective (sometimes more accurate at least for some aspects) than do official court historians. Yet Batuta is also infuriating as a travel writer, since he remains so focused on the muslim world alone, and ignores the diversity of customs and other cultures he passes through. The various Christians, Buddhists and Hindus he must have encountered remain inconsecuential to him, so we miss out on eyewitness accounts of all these other peoples. Throughout it all though is a rare love for travel and the sights of new lands, which make his accounts all the more readable, and also gives us a glimpse into a vibrant time in human history, enabling us to realize how closely interconnected the world always has been. Dunn’s book is particularly readable because it puts all these events in perspective and provides this wonderful picture of the world as it was then.