by Anuradha Bakshi | Mar 24, 2009 | Uncategorized
Let me to tell you a story:…
Once upon a time in a big city a little boy was born. His parents belonged to different faiths and both had their own families that they could not or did not want to leave. They both also had a little boy each from marriages they had not really wanted. They met, fell in love and as is often the case gave life to a child they could not really tend to or care for. Like many others the little boy was brought into the world for all the wrong reasons. No one ever thought of a life map for him or cared about his future. He was just two weeks old when he landed quite inadvertently into the arms of a bunch of people and crawled into their hearts. They decided to build him a future, one that would be safe and secure.
He learnt to smile, to hold his head, to sit up and to crawl under the watchful eyes of caring strangers. As the story of his life enfolded, the hopelessness of his existence became a stark reality. In a land where the right labels were mandatory his were lopsided and flawed. He had no caste, nor creed. He did not even have a proper father. The caretakers who had taken on the challenge of crafting him a solid morrow felt that perhaps his chances would be better if he could fly to another land with new parents.
Luck seemed to be with him as a seemingly kind couple reached out to him. The tedious process of what is called adoption was set in motion. As adults began playing the complex game of adoption, the little boy’s life was filled with joy and hope. Wonderful gifts, smart clothes, outings to fancy places and scrumptious treats cames his way. He turned one, and then two and three. His life was almost picture perfect and he enjoyed it oblivious of the drama being played. Yes there were a few days spent in ugly buildings called courts but the new mama and papa were always there to buy him an extra treat.
Then one day everyone seemed to be jumping with joy as the big people had decided that he could be adopted and even the grim court seemed happy that day. Everyone thought that it was only a matter of days, perhaps weeks and the little boy would fly away. But then a phone call and news that another little boy had been found for the couple in their own land and the new papa and mama had to fly away to complete another adoption game. But they promised to come back for the little boy. Months went by, and then a whole year. The little boy was four. He still showed off his now faded tshirt and said it was his other mama that gave it to him. The paper work seemed endless and the wait unending. The new papa and mama stopped calling and then one day a call informed his real mama that they were giving up and did not want the little boy anymore. They did not even want to be part of his life at all. The game had ended and the little boy had lost! All he had left were a few faded and hazy pictures, some broken toys and some hazy memories of the mama and papa who spoke in a funny way.
This is not a story. The little boy exists and is in our creche. We are all stunned by the news. We can understand that sometimes administrations and laws are callous and complex and do not go he way we would like them to. But what has really shocked us and hurt us is the fact that the people who once wanted this child and were willing to give him the world and more did not want to have anything to do with him.
I am not normally in favour of adoption. In this case I relented as the little boy’s situation was terrible and that he would have to live with too many shadows in a society that could be cruel to children with his kind of past. Somehow it felt right to have him grow in a land where he could run his race without handicaps. I had been concerned about the complexity of the legal battle and scared of its outcome. I had even suggested to the adoptive parents that were things not to go the right way, they should at least ensure that the child gets a sound education as that could be his key to freedom. I had feared that perhaps things would not turn our way but never had I imagined that the very people who had once wanted him with passion would not only turn away but leave the child high and dry. How can anyone be so callous or heartless. I guess the God of lesser beings saw through them and decided to make a course correction in time.
The little boy will next year join the five little pwhy children in boarding school. Till then he will remain under our care, safe, secure and truly loved.
No adult should ever be allowed to play with a child’s life. This is the worse case of child abuse!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Mar 21, 2009 | Uncategorized
Where will it all end are the words that came to my mind as I watched the two little slumdog kids walk the ramp for a famous designer duo. I had just recovered from the news that the same children would now be used by the ruling party to campaign for them!
Let us stop a moment and gather our thoughts. We are just about recovering from the dastardly news about a father raping his two daughters to better his business prospect and the sad but of indubitable reality that child abuse is a stark reality and as supposedly concerned citizens and sensitive human beings we are outraged. Now as the same supposedly concerned citizens and sensitive human beings what should our reaction be in the face of kids walking ramps and raising slogans? Many have reacted to the news and rightly so. One such comment is: my fear is that these kids would be taken advantage of, & then thrown away when they won’t be needed any longer! This world can be really brutal! This probably sums it all up.
Are we not witnessing an insidious forms of child abuse, one that is so well packaged that it becomes acceptable and even laudable. The designer in question said making the young kids walk the ramp was an endeavour to bridge the gap between the glamorous and the unglamorous, the rich and the poor. The politicians too have their answers ready to be lobbed at the right time. Stop! I am ready to throw up! Enough is enough.
I guess I have acquired the right to voice my opinion. For the past 10 years now I have been trying to bridge the gap between the rich and the poor. For the past ten years I have toiled to get the glamorous to reach out to the unglamorous. And for the past ten years I have banged my head against impregnable walls. True I did not have any glamour to barter: no Oscar winning movie or acclaimed achievement. I simply had innumerable slumpups with incredible potential. I simply had many simple scripts that would help them realise their dreams. The most ambitious one was to give a handful of these kids a real future: a sound and upmarket education. What I got when I asked for help was a harsh rap on my knuckles: one was not supposed to dare disturb the existing social pattern. We did and today four little kids have begun their journey to glory and we are really proud of it.
But coming back to ramps and election campaigns, what we seem to be witnessing is another kind of child abuse, and my heart goes out to these two little slum kids who are being used and abused to perpetrate selfish agendas. If anyone, be it the glam designers or the famed politicians, truly held their interest at heart, the children should have been quietly sent to a good school and not flaunted like circus animals. If mileage had to be sought, then it could have been done in a discreet manner, after the children where happily settled and on their way to fulfilling their destiny.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Mar 19, 2009 | Uncategorized
It kind of trails off after the holidays. We would love to keep the issue in the front of everyone and that child abuse happens all year long. Abuse doesn’t take a holiday, doesn’t take a day off, and we can’t either. (Jane Donovan)
The it referred to in the quote is child abuse.
It was in the news again yesterday in abundance: a father raping his daughter for 9 years with the tacit consent of the mother because a voodoo man told him to do so, a bunch of caretakers raping their visually and hearing impaired and mentally challenged wards, an thousands of miles a way another father simply getting 15 years of prison for the heinous crime committed against his won child. One again we were treated or should I say subjected to an array of debates of discussions about a range of issues. The whole drama seemed stale and played out, something we had heard over and over again each time a crime of this kind was perpetrated. Remember the Ghaziabad Girls?
We were the whistle blowers then. Sadly nothing much happened: the tormentor, a so called holy man walks free (he is on bail) and the little girls live in different poorly run homes lonely and lost. Every effort we made to try and see them to give them some much needed healing failed as we knocked helplessly on the heartless door of an insensitive administration.
Child abuse does not take a day off, it simply continues to cast its shadow for the length of many lifetimes. And we watch mute and helpless for reasons that are nothing short of unacceptable. Just like the mother of the young girl too scared to go against her husband or too mesmerised by the so called holy men who lurk at every corner looking for prey. Or simply because we feel unconcerned.
Abused children, specially challenged ones, are not vote banks and hence not interesting to our law makers and protectors. The stories makes good TRPs and award material. We all feel outraged for the day till some new story takes over and we forget the abused children. We hang our heads in shame, but is that enough. Is there not something more we need to do.
In my last post I wrote that every Every new born child is a message from God that he has not lost faith in man. Perhaps it is more than that. The innocent and trustful eyes of the child urge us to look deep within ourselves and find the courage and determination to be worthy of the man God has not lost faith in.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Mar 17, 2009 | manu
Every new born child is a message from God that he has not lost faith in man wrote Tagore. The quote was sent to me by a dear friend upon the birth of Agastya Noor. I guess even the cynics would admit this, particularly when you look deep into the eyes of a young life. At that moment not a thought is given to what is to come. All you see and feel is the joy of a new life and the incredible feeling that all has to be right. And perhaps what Tagore says is true: it is a message from God, only we humans fail to understand it.
I have been blessed in more ways than one. Over the last 10 years I have witnessed many messages compelling me to believe that even if things looked dark and bleak and even hopeless, God had never lost faith in man. In my book Dear Popples I wrote about the big picture, the one that was always bright and beautiful and near perfect but that we humans were unable to see fully as it extended beyond space and time. Being only able to see bits of it we hang on to the dark parches and hold them as true. Yes I have been blessed in more ways than one as I have been able to see glimpses of that perfect creation time and again: in the little boy who should have died but is today alive and kicking and ready for class II, in the four little children who should have joined the ranks of child labour but are soon going to walk into the portals of a boarding school, in Manu who does not wander the streets and rummage through dustbins but sleeps in a warm bed.
The list is endless and the big pictures enfolds itself in front of my eyes one with almost obsessive regularity. I see it in the reports cards held proudly by those who were once failures, in the first sound uttered by one who never spoke, or the faltering step taken by one who never walked, in the spirited gait and beaming smiles of pwhy teachers who were once only considered good enough to clean homes… actually in each and everyone of what is now known as the pwhy family: a motley crew of young and old who should have lived in the shadows but have reclaimed their place in the sun.
Seems huge and it is undoubtedly. And yet when I look back at the years one by I realise how absurdly simple it is and well within the reach of anyone willing to keep their eyes wide open and see with their heart. The big picture is there withing the reach of each and every one of us. It waits to be discovered and savoured. One simply has to be willing to look beyond today and believe in tomorrow as God has not and will never lose faith in man.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Mar 13, 2009 | Uncategorized
I saw my grandchild for the first time yesterday. I was such a huge moment that it took me more than twenty four hours to process it and be able to write about it. As I held the little bundle of joy and delved into his luminous grey eyes I felt a sense of indescribable joy and wonder. It was a breathtaking moment.
In the last 24 hours my life seems to have changed for ever. Does holding the child of your own child catapult you into another realm of life, freeing you in some way of bonds hitherto in existence? Do yo somehow acquire a new status and thus need to redefine the meaning of your own life? Does it compel you to stop and review your own life and above all evaluate it? So many questions needing answers that I know I will have to seek some time later.
But as I looked deep into his eyes I knew that the little bundle of joy had brought with him a bag of miracles for his granny. This may sound dotty and over the top but I held on to my belief. And the miracles came….
An email dropped by the very next day informing us that a kind lady from Germany had agreed to sponsor the education of our three little foster care boys giving me the miracle I had prayed for. It was such a huge moment and I was left speechless. I simply went to look at little Agastya Noor and saw him smiling in his sleep. They say in India that when children smile in their sleep, they are in deep conversation with God. I silently mouthed a word of gratitude and tiptoed away. This simple email had put to an end to many a sleepless night. The news was welcomed by joyful exclamations: amazing said one, while the other quipped holy moly! These were friends who had for the past months now toiled to make things happen. It was indeed time to celebrate and to be grateful!
A short while later another mail dropped by this one from an extraordinary young lady who had spent a short week with us and left promising to help project why. Harriet is not your usual young teenager she is one a kind. Not only did she organise a bake sale for pwhy and write about us in the local newspaper, but managed to get her school to raise funds for us and they did at their commemoration and mufti day! Harriet wrote to inform us that they had collected more than they had anticipated. This was a true miracle for me as it validated and proved what I always held as true: if you learn to see with your heart miracles come your way. This is a tried and tested formula, believe me!
The miracle for me is not the money collected or promised. It is far more than that. It is the comforting proof that compassion still exists, that there are people young and old who can still look with their hearts and reach out to others, it is the conviction that dreams do come true if you hold on to them tight and miracles come your way if you simply believe in them. I guess this is what little Agastya wanted to tell his grandmom.
My mind wandered back to a beautiful quote by Deepak Chopra: Miracles happen every day. Not just in remote country villages or at holy sites halfway across the globe, but here, in our own lives.
