by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 17, 2007 | utpal
Tomorrow is Utpal’s PTA and once again his motley family will set out early in the morning to spend the day with him. This time it is Amit, Chanda Didi, Kiran Didi, Radhey and maam’ji who will form the party.
I am looking forward to the moment when his best pal Simran who is always on the look out for incoming parents will spot us and yell: Utpal tere parents aageye– Utpal your parents are here- never mind if the parents are a gang of 5 and not the conventional mom and dad duo.
He will appear slowly from somewhere and look at us shyly while we will assess the changes: his over oiled hair, his height and his tanned face, then his face will light up and he will run into our arms as we all start babbling together.
After the customary chat with his maam’s, we will set out to plan the day. While some of us will remain in school and laze on the lawns, Utpal will set off his little jaunt: a metro ride and a stop at a shop to get the forbidden goodies: pack of chips and a pepsi! But before that he will seek his kitchen bhaiyas for his daily feshment and ensure that there is one extra share for his maam’ji. It could be a paratha or a banana but to me they are nothing short of manna’s dew as they are laced with a very special kind of love.
Back from his little time off, it is time to play in the open and see the new antics, hear the new repertoire of songs and bask in moments of pure delight. Utpal will then set off to his kitchen pals to ask when luch will be laid and we will share his lunch in the big dining hall after joining in in the prayer led by forbidding Anil Sir.
The Sunday meal is rice and beans and can beat many a gourmet meal as we sit amidst the din and share this rare moment with a child who defeated every odd to be sitting with children from the other side of the fence as one of them.
As the lunch ends with the throwing of plates – Utpal’s way of defining plates sent down a chute to the kitchen – silence descends upon Utpal and his family as soon it will time to say goodbye, a time we dread. Sometimes he lets us go as he walks away without a glace back, and sometimes he clings to us and lets out heart wrenching cries.
The ride back is always in silence as we try to reconnect with ourselves after a day drenched with hope and love.
In two weeks Utpal will be spending his holi break with his mom and sister and though it will be painful not to having at home, it will be a huge step in a journey i began many years back: trying to once again thread the beads of a little family that had scattered in more ways than one.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 17, 2007 | Uncategorized
A middle aged woman pushing her vegetable cart in the chilly evening rain set me thinking about the life of an ordinary citizen in India’s capital city.
The heap of vegetables still lying unsold on her cart was proof that it had not been a good day. I wondered why she and not a man was pushing the cart. A widow maybe, or a woman abandoned for another. Who knows? She must got up long before the sun rose and gone to the wholesale market in spite of the torrential rain. Then she must have carefully arranged all her different vegetables on her cart ready to walk her beat calling out people to buy her goods.
Her mind may have gone back to times gone by where no gates existed in residential colonies and no permission and ID were needed, a time where smart shops did not sell vegetables in neat packets glowing under an artificial green light, a time where the local pheri wallah was the obvious option was the only viable option for many a housewife. But those days were gone… yet she carried on.
Our city is filled with such people who set out every morning to sell a plethora of goods and depend on the day’s income to feed their waiting family. We have many such people in our area, some even parents of pwhy children. I have seen many mothers sitting at the doorstep and waiting for the bread earner to come back so that she can set about cooking the evening meal, mouthing a silent prayer that he has not stopped by the watering hole.
These are brave ordinary Indians who left their homes in the hope of finding a better life in the city, and in the hope of carving out a better life for their children. They are your vegetable and fruit vendors, your corner cobbler, your scooter repair man, your street food vendor.. They are the likes of Nanhe’s mom whose family grows hungry when she sits by the side of her child in the hospital.
They are ordinary Indians who have created an invisible support system that we have gotten used to and depend on without quite knowing it. Just like us they have families to feed, children to educate, lives to run. Still embedded in the Indianness they keep many of our traditions and rites alive, those we have forgotten and forsaken.
Yet they disturb and are often as they are considered ungainly and not in sync with modern India. They are held responsible for polluting the city as we forgot about them in our planning and they just had to place themselves somehow and anyhow. And yet they were never pushed away as politicians looked at them as votes and promptly gave them voters ID cards thus making them legit.
While law makes and executors are trying to fix things in time for the nest election, these ordinary Indians are busy surviving one day at a time, not aware of the Damocles’s sword that hangs on their heads.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 16, 2007 | two indias
My daughter just called from Varanasi. She had gone there with some musician friends to spend Shivaratri. She is a person who spurns all rituals and is somewhat an agnostic. I had tried to share my experience of this holy city that I had visited many years back when I had fallen under its spell.
So imagine my dismay when she told me that the evening Arati on the banks of the Ganga was now sponsored by some five star hotel group and was a well orchestrated affair. In my now fading memory, the evening arati was a spontaneous affair where the dissonant chants of each priest lent a special flavour to the prayers. Every one lent their voices and hummed when words were forgotten. We each held on to our precious lamp waiting to let it sail on the water. The mood mas magic and spellbinding with each one lost in their own thoughts and prayers. Even when the arati ended it took some time before one reconnected and started moving again.
A sponsored prayer seemed anathema to me, robbing the sacred of its very essence. My mind went back to the recent hullabaloo about Valentine’s day. What would the protectors of our Indian identity say have to say about this.
I guess there are two ways in which we can look at such occurrences: one is that everything is acceptable as it brings extra income in a world that extols globalisation, the other is to try and draw some lines but then who bells the cat.
Perhaps there is a third one, and that is to go back to the very essence of our religion in its purest form and find the much needed sacredness within one’s self as in this world where money has assumed a hallowed place, everything is possible.
And maybe, next Valentine’s Day someone should wonder why it is Radha who sits in temples next to Krishna and not Rukmini his wedded spouse.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 16, 2007 | girl child
A recent post of mine which was a simple chapeau bas to true Indian led to a rabid diatribe on St V day and Indianess. The commentator says:.. this Indian identity includes, as an essential character, not celebrating a festival of the type that Valentines day really is.
I will not waste any one’s time in defending St V’s day but look at the deeper meaning of such a reaction which comes from an educated Indian. First of all I wonder whether an issue like V day deserves all the attention it gets, when there are so many ills that plague this country and need to be addressed by any self respecting Indian. To name just one we are a land where millions of children sleep hungry while thousands of others waste food.
It is sad to see that our politicians and law makers find time to waste their energy and time on such trivia where they could maybe for once forget their differences and address such basic issues like giving to every Indian child what was promised in our constitution.
Why can we not look at V day as one more day that will give the flower seller a few more rupees. And forget V day, over the years religious festivals too have been exploited – if that is the word one likes to chose – in a analogous manner. Many years ago rakhsa bhandhan or such festivals were celebrated without cards and fancy rakhis. I still remember when we use to make ours at home with a simple thread! Today everything is commercialised and there are even websites which allow you in-house pilgrimage and allow you to worship your God in the comfort of your home! So if there has to be a litany of protest let it be against everything that has been commercialised.
V day does not have to be simply viewed as a illicit boy-girl affair but can also be looked at as a day of acknowledging love in its wider form and that exactly what my post was about.
The Indians in India must retain their identity says the commentator and I agree. But our identity lies in celebrating our ability to accept and reach out, our ability to bridge the now frightening gap between the have and have nots, in our ability to celebrate tolerance and reach out to those in need.
Amit Bhaiyya did just that!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 15, 2007 | Uncategorized
The editor of a famous women’s magazine shared a touching experience where her attempts to rescue a street child had failed for want of a proper road map. Ms Fernandes concludes her piece by an appeal to set such road maps. A hurt street child is taken to the hospital and treated but once healed there is nowhere for him to go, but back to the same street as there are no safe options.
There are no road maps in India as we have experienced over the years at pwhy be it with children, women, handicapped persons or the elderly. Each problem has to be taken as a challenge and a road map created.
When we came to know about manoj’s mom, we set out to look for a solution. manoj had been born at home. but one look at the mom’s face and we knew she needed proper medical attention. Strangely when you start looking for something in earnest, you find them. We discovered a maternity hospital run by the municipality that was a pleasant surprise. It was clean, efficient and above all practically free.
Manoj’s mom now has a road map for the next 4 months: iron shots for 10 days, and strips of vitamins and minerals. She will be checked regularly and will deliver in a safe environment. But that is not where the matter ended. we needed to find a healthier room with light and air to receive the baby when it arrives. I guess that by now we had caught the attention of the god of lesser beings as we found a room close to where some of our creche teachers stay. We knew she would be safe and that were her husband to beat her, many would come to her rescue, and when it was time for the baby to come, little manoj would be looked after.
In India we cannot wait for the powers that be to create road maps. We need to craft them ourselves.
