a breath of fresh air

a breath of fresh air


It was once again time to make the one hour car journey to Utpal’s school for his PTM. And in spite of this being the nth time, the excitement was palpable.

With little Kiran the true blue childhood pal, I had packed the proverbial bag of goodies that contained all that was not allowed: chips, fizzy drinks and chocolates. We set out early and go there just as the clock struck 11 and the gates were opened. As we hurried to the residential block I realised that my heart was beating a little faster.

Utpal dressed in his Sunday clothes waited at the bottom of the stairs for his parents. This time we were six: Kiran, Chanda, Dharmendra and Barbara and Cyril, two volunteers who had decided to come along, not forgetting the old maam’ji! Presentations were made and I was thrilled to hear the confidentfine thank you maa’m” to Barbara’s: how are you? Our little Utpal seemed all grown up as he set out to show his room and cupboard and introduce his Dolly ma’am.

The rest of the day passed in a tizzy. A metro ride, a shared pizza and then the now legendary lunch at the school where Utpal acted as the perfect host. But as the hour of departure approached I could see his tiny face crumble. He snuggled closer to me and said: you will stay awhile, won’t you?

We did, but soon it was time to say our goodbyes, and for the first time I saw Utpal holding on to the tears that were welling up in his eyes. I held on to mine and hugged him a little tighter as I whispered: see you next time.

As we travelled back none of us spoke, not wanting to break the spell Utpal had cast on all of us.

when the heart takes over

S decided to sell his kidney because life had become unberable after his business failed. It must have been a pondered decision and one that must have taken a lot of grit and determination. What happened next is what heroic tales are made of. When S realised that the person in need of a kidney was poorer than him, he simply donated it without a thought, as if that was the only valid option. In that pure moment of human compassion reason had no role to play; the heart simply took over. There was no time to think of the ifs and buts or of the consequences that might ensue.

In our day and age, where acts of charity are often proportionate to the benefits they accrue – be it tax benefits or public recognition – and have lost all spontaneity and selflessness S stands tall. Cynics may say that ultimately he did get recognition and kudos but the essence of the matter is that when S gifted his kidney, he did not know they would come by and if one reads his story he suffered much indignity before being honoured and applauded.

S’s story stands like a beacon for all those who still believe that in some matters the heart has to take over, something we at pwhy stand by.

full circle

full circle


It was almost three years ago that two women of substance set up our Okhla school. The school was set up in a garbage dump for all the right reasons and much of what we set out to do was achieved and somehow we felt that nothing would or could disturb the pattern we had set.

We were in for a rude shock as yesterday we were told that the local politician had dropped by and decreed that our ramshackle structure would be raised to the ground and that a new building would be built that would house a school bearing her name. It was almost as if the clock had turned back 5 years to that wintry day when our tent was destroyed in a Giri Nagar park with promises of another building.

We had come full circle once again.

The first reaction was undoubtedly anger, dismay and hurt. The thought of having to see our neatly organised class space with its mud murals brought to nought seemed outrageous. It seemed as all our efforts were in vain. But as the news seeped in and the initial shock subsided one came to realise that perhaps there was more in this situation that met the eye.

If three years of unabated struggle and dogged determination to carry on our teaching in spite of everything had made a politico want to create a space for children and run a school, then we had achieved the goal pwhy had set for itself: to make the community aware of the importance of education and children.

Many of our early supporters still wonder why we left Giri Nagar and sought other pastures. Our answer is simple: 7 years back Giri Nagar had no structure for children; today it boasts of 4 NGOs that run child related activities making us almost redundant and though our pride took a blow when we were ousted, the greater objective was achieved. I guess the same applies for Okhla if what we have been told is true. If what once was a garbage dump and a haven for drug peddles becomes a school with play grounds for children, we would be fair in giving ourselves a pat on the back.

As for us we will once again find a place where children roam the streets and start all over again.

a bonny bundle of joy

a bonny bundle of joy


Prakash is a bonny four month old, a far cry from his elder brother Manoj who came to us almost two years back and reminded me of a garden gnome with his big head and emaciated body.

When we came to know that Manoj’s mom mas pregnant again, we set out to chart a road map for her and like many of the programmes started by pwhy, we launched our pregnant mother support programme on the spur of the moment. Our sine qua non requirement was that the programme was open only to mom’s who came our way and were in need of support.

Today when we look at little Prakash sleeping or playing in the lap of his content mother we feel once again vindicated.

the sting that lost its bite

The latest sting school. operation turned out lost all its bite when the reporter in question was arrested. I am referring to the case of the school teacher accused of waylaying girls students in Delhi. Though the story had created furore and even rioting when aired, somehow it had not rung true and I had chosen not to comment on it though I often find myself reacting to stories about abuse of children.

Sting operations seem to be the flavour of the times and they have undoubtedly redressed many a tort and brought justice to some. And though one had even been at the origin of Ghaziabad girls operation, the silence that ensues such operation is sometimes too deafening to bear making us wonder as to the role the media can and should play in such cases.

It is true that in the past year of so the media has risen as a watchdog bringing to light many wrongs hitherto hidden. The power of images and the ability to edit and replay them brings stark realities into the very privacy of our homes making us react and one has seen people reaching out to others in gallant ways.

Sting operations have a role to play in waking up the slumbering conscience of a lethargic civil society and that is why one should not allow it to be hijacked to even personal vendettas or suit vested interests. If there are more such fake stings that we run the risk of having restrictive laws slammed on them.

Media has to be extremely cautious and conscious with such operations and not view them as a simple way to up their TRP rates. They also need to follow up and inform their audience on the outcome of each case. Only then can this powerful tool become an agent of change.