June 8, 1998

A one-of-a-kind school comes to the aid of women with a penchant for wheels.

By Stephen David

"You've got to be alert. You've got to help yourselves." The group of 15 students listen in rapt attention as 28-year-old R. Sudarshini continues, "In today's fast-track world, nobody else will come to your rescue." It could be any regular class in session except that this is a driving school -- and an all-women's affair.

The Bangalore-based school, Scluki -- an acronym for Sincerely Concentrate and Learn Unique Lessons with Keen Interest -- is the only one of its kind in the country and continues in its own way to empower women. Run by three sisters -- Sudarshini, R. Sadguna and R. Gnanavalli -- it has in the eight years of its existence, equipped, both physically and psychologically, over 5,000 women from various parts of the country to "rule the roads".

It all began in 1989 when the girls' father, A. Ranga, a mechanic with an automobile garage, suffered a heart attack. Sadguna, being the eldest, was literally thrown into the driver's seat. The days that followed gave Sadguna and her sisters ample exposure to the functioning of various vehicles and they even mastered the art of riding two-wheelers and driving cars. The turning point, however, came when Sadguna's fellow-student at an entrepreneurship development course asked her to teach her how to ride a scooter. Sadguna's instant reaction was a "why not", even as the idea began making business sense.

By November 1990, the three sisters had converted their father's little garage into a makeshift driving school. The classes, they decided, would be different: they would admit only women and make an extra effort in the case of beginners. The duration of each course -- now costing Rs 2,300 -- would be 10 hours staggered over 10 to 20 days according to the student's convenience. Besides sit-in instruction sessions, regular practical classes would also be conducted. For the benefit of rank starters, Ranga designed an open car model, rather like a flight simulator for trainee pilots, at the cost of Rs 1 lakh. "Most women who come to us have absolutely no idea about how a car moves," says Gnanavalli. "Once they practise on the model, they get the hang of it." Rules are stringent but the students don't mind. After all, it makes it easier for them to get their driving licences later.

That apart, the fact that the instructors are women appeals to many. Says one of the students, Shamala Saxena from Aurangabad: "We would be more comfortable with women any day." Agrees Jeevamma, a 60-year-old grandmother. Two years ago, she developed a sudden urge to drive and, a bit embarrassed, she had approached Scluki. The girls readily took in their oldest pupil and went out of their way to make her feel at home with her younger classmates. Moreover, the girls could talk to her in Telugu, her mother-tongue. "Initially," says Gnanavalli, "Jeevamma was reluctant even to express her desire to learn, but slowly she opened up in Telugu and within two weeks could drive quite well." The fact that the Scluki girls are multilingual makes them that much more popular. Besides English and Telugu, the sisters are also fluent in Tamil, Kannada and Hindi.

Not surprising then that the school gets calls from ministers and top officials with tutoring requests. One state minister rang up last year to say that he would pay Rs 10,000 if one of the girls could come over to his house and teach his wife driving. "But we maintain our distance," says Gnanavalli, "we don't go to people's doorsteps." Those wanting to learn are welcome to join the "common pool".

Empowering women apart, Scluki, for the girls, is also a personal success, a passion with which their lives have integrated. While Sadguna and Sudarshini are happily married ("Our husbands are very supportive"), Gnanavalli is trying to get into the civil services. Nothing, they believe, is mutually exclusive and nothing is impossible. Provided the drive is there.

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