by Anuradha Bakshi | Sep 18, 2008 | Uncategorized
Things are not bright at pwhy in spite of the glowing report card we got from the recent workshop about our work and the impact we have on the life of children. The flip side of the famous SWOT was of course the fragility of our funding model, something I for one, have been painfully aware of for innumerable long nights. It was touching, infuriating and yet heartwarming to learn that everyone was aware the fact that pwhy’s life was at the present moment linked to mine and that as things stood now it did not have much chance of survival unless some drastic measures were not taken.
The King is dead, long live the King goes the saying. But maybe we need not wait for the king to die to prove the maxim right. Pwhy is facing a crisis and one could just use this to test waters. Let me elucidate.
A few months we faced a terrible crisis: a series of unforeseen events led to us having to raise a mind boggling amount of money to save the dreams of some very special children. The task was daunting, something we had never attempted: we had 70 tiny days to raise what was actually needed to run pwhy for couple of years. We managed. Wonder how? Simply by holding on to the dreams and never losing sight of them. Today the situation is the same. If we do not come up with the money needed for the next 3 months we are doomed. A pot of gold awaits us at the end of the said 3 months but we need to reach it.
I could do what I have done each time I have been faced with crises: write innumerable emails; beg unabashedly and knock at every door virtual or real. But my intuition tells me not to. And intuition is God’s Alphabet as Paulo Coehlo writes in his Manual of the Warrior of Light. Intuition tells me to use this god sent opportunity to test my team and see whether they are capable of walking the talk. Are they not the ones who just a few days back said that they were willing to taken on new responsibilities and even fund raise, that they were willing to do whatever was needed to save pwhy. The stage is theirs. Easier said than done.
It is true that there lies in each one of us a huge untapped potential, one that emerges in times of crises but therein lies the problem: what defines crises in each one of us: losing ones’ job, losing a dignified and motivating job. Or is it something deeper? Would I have fought as hard as I did, overcome situations I found galling if it was simply a matter of saving a job. I do not think so. What fuelled me with unknown passion and fervor were all the things that were at stake if pwhy was to close: the smiles of children, Manu’s home, Utpal’s school, the report cards handed with pride, Preeti jumping on a trampoline, Rinky hearing her first sound. What filled me with horror was the idea that all this could come to naught if I did not walk that extra mile. It is important for each one of pwhy’s team to find what they are fighting for, only then will they be able to make miracles. They need to realise all that would stop if they decided to do anything: the faces that would stop smiling, the children that would stop school and take the road to work, the heats that would remain broken, and more.
And if they do nothing can stop them. My intuition also tells me that time is ripe to resuscitate the one-rupee-a-day programme. Was it not the funding model created for people like the pwhy team, one that did not need special skills but simply a heart at the right place. It is time to listen to one’s intuition and sit back. Intuition is indeed God’s Alphabet and it is time to listen to the wind and the stars.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Sep 15, 2008 | Uncategorized
Yesterday was Utpal’s PTM always a special day for more reasons than one. It is a day that always begins with excitement laced with dolefulness as one knows that time will fly and the day come to a close when we will have to bid him farewell.
It is almost three years that Utpal left for boarding school. I have been there for every single PTM ans each is etched in my mind with indelible lines. I still remember the heart breaking cries that rented the air when it was time to say good bye. Then as time went by the tried turned to murmured pleas and entreaties that wrenched my soul. But then as time went by the good byes were easier though seeing him walk away clutching his little bag of carefully selected goodies was never easy.
As we drove along my heart was once again heavy as I did not quite know how to tell little Utpal that this Diwali when he comes home his mom will not be there. Sadly she relapsed and has been checked in to rehab again where she will spend a few months. And to say that we were all so happy and truly convinced that things had finally settled, that in spite of a few bouts of depression J was well into recovery. How wrong we were. The alcohol was too big an adversary, J too fragile, society too eager to draw her back into a world where she could be manipulated, her own family too weak or too greedy. The writing was on the wall: we just did not see it. Women who drink are sadly never given the second chance they deserve.
Lost in my thoughts I had not realised that we had reached the school. After the checking in formalities we went off looking for little Utpal. He was in his classroom waiting with his Kamala ma’am and his bright pink report card. The marks were good and his teacher gave glowing reports though we were told that he was very naughty. Somehow I felt comforted by those words as that meant he was happy and content. Th teacher asked me to fill up a form and as I sat to do it, Utpal stood next tome dictating the answers. When we came to the mother’s name column he promptly said ‘Jhunnu‘. My heart missed a beat and I was filled with a sense of overwhelming sadness. I wrote the six letters quietly and perhaps that is when I decided not to tell Utpal about his mom yet.
A quick trip to the hostel to meet his warden Dolly and seek her permission to give him the few toys we carried as we would be dropping back earlier than usual, then a few words with Anil Sir the PT instructor. We came to know that Utpal loved football, badminton and the Frisbee and had started skating. The music teacher revealed that he could now play happy birthday on the keyboard! All in all a successful PTM!
It was then time to take Utpal for his outing and the destination was the closest Pizza parlour. He was in a happy mood and regaled us with his antics: sipping his fizzy drink with his hands locked at he back, dancing to the rock music that blared as he ate his pizza, telling us funny stories. Time just flew and then the dreaded hour approached: it was time to take the road back. But before that we had to make a quick stop at the local store as he needed some toiletries. At the store he asked us to buy him some biscuits and carefully selected them. We were told that these were for his friends. We came to know later in the car that it was for his big friends. I guess this is what happens in all boarding schools: the gently bullying that signifies that you have been accepted.
When the time to say goodbye came there were no tears or murmured words. A very confident little boy clutched ll his packages and gave us a hug and then walked down the long corridor with a confident stride. I watched him walk away quietly wiping a tear that was threatening to spill over.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Sep 14, 2008 | Uncategorized
The real tragedy however is that when my mom told me about the blasts on the phone I was not shocked….I was sad ….but somewhere inside me I am learning to live with this terrorism as part of life…not feeling shocked when it happens….and something is just wrong with this picture! To think that my children, whenever they come into this world, will never have a childhood free of this aspect like I did even though for a short while.…
These poignant words written by a young friend who lives miles away dropped in my inbox this morning. They ring painfully true in more ways than one. It is a sad fact indeed that we seem to have got inured to news of bombs blasts and terror. Even when it hits close to our own reality. It is as if we have accepted it as a part of our lives we do not have much control on. As the news enfolded on the TV screen one just kept on doing what one was. There was no shock or panic.
I heard about the first bomb as I was watching an evening metro channel. Ghaffar market seemed so remote and distant. It is a place one rarely went to. Then a few minutes later came the news of blasts at Connaught Place. This was closer to one’s life. It was the very place where one hung out almost everyday many years ago, the very place where one headed to escape the boredom of home or the stranglehold of college, a place where one felt carefree and insouciant. Remote memories almost forgotten that were brought alive by the blasts. Then the news of blasts at M block market GK I, a place one frequented every day. Actually I was there just a short hour earlier and still no panic. Is this not proof enough of the fact that we have learned to live with terror and simply accept it with sadness and a sense of longing for days gone by where such horror did not exist.
But at least we have know better days, days where such things did not exist, when streets were safe, when all you feared at most was a freak accident, something you would accept with a sense of fatalism. And people my age would even remember times when terror was almost alien vocabulary. Many would not believe it but I can still recall days when one could see a person off at the step ladder of an airplane!
We still have memories but our children, those who are still very young or those still waiting to be born will never have a childhood free of terror. It has engulfed every nook and corner of our lives, even the sanctity of our homes as TV images of gore and violence invade our privacy. Children of today grow up hearing about terrorism and bomb blasts and sadly have by force majeure become inured. It is a matter of survival.
Gone are the carefree days of childhood. Life has changed irreversibly. Something is really wrong with this picture.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Sep 14, 2008 | Uncategorized
It was almost three years ago that I wrote a post entitled morning has broken. I reread it and realised that every word in it still rung disturbingly true.
The morning after has broken again, the sky is lighting up and the sun will soon rise….
Once again my inbox was filled with messages of concern and once again I answered them with words of reassurance. Yes we are all safe. Though I wonder what the word safety means. Should we just say that we are lucky not to have been one of the 30 or one of the 90. As usual gory images are aired with unsettling regularity to increase TRPs, rumor mills are afloat, divisive forces are in play…
And once again we will pick up the pieces and reassemble our lives to the best of our ability trying to forget the cracks and missing bits. One gain we will put our bravest face and best foot forward and carry on. It is the only befitting answer to dastardly acts of terrorism.
I am at a loss of words in the wake of such horror. People simply enjoying a balmy evening in a park or shopping on a week end find their lives destroyed in a split second, their loved ones condemned to a life of sorrow and despair. Is this what the perpetrators of such acts seek? The never ending feeling of loss and pain that remains etched in the lives of the survivors as a constant reminder of the fateful day.
The political drama is in full swing. Talk of conspiracy, destabilisation, seeds of mistrust, empty words of comfort by politicians seeking mileage.. everything is there to see and applaud.
Life will go an, it has to. It will go on for the ones who have lost dear ones, the ones who will have to live with a maimed bodies and scars on their souls. Life will go on for those who have to go back to work to feed their hungry families, for determined business owners, for school children, for each and everyone of us. And this is the only answer we can give to the death merchants.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Sep 11, 2008 | okhla
Little Babu and his pal Shankar did not come to pwhy yesterday. It is not because they did not want to, quite the contrary: the love pwhy. They did not come because their parents, simple illiterate folks, fell prey to to the misinformation and fear spread by vernacular TV channels about the outcome of the CERN experiment.
We were aghast when Sitaram called to inform that no parent from the Okhla slum was willing to send their children to the project. They were convinced that the world would come to an end at 12 pm and thus did not want to send their kids away. We were also informed that many menfolk had not gone to work and decided to stay home. The Okhla slum where these kids come from is home to migrant labour most of them illiterate and extremely naive, being recent arrivals in the city. Nevertheless most if not all have acquired TV sets, their only lifeline in their abysmal lives. For the past few days some TV channels catering primarily to such people have been running doomsday stories in graphic and dramatised ways that have succeeded in scaring naive viewers to the point of panic. Talks of tsunamis and earthquakes, black holes that would suck in the entire world and such horrors created a fear psychosis in the simple minds and hence children were not sent to school. Though the maximum absentees were in the creche, attendance was very poor in all classes. Fear was visible on the face of our hearing impaired girls who hugged each other with tears in their eyes.
I must confess that I saw red. I have always feared the power TV hodls on simple minds and seen time and again how it affects their lives. The quest for TRPs is acceptable to a point but when the result is the kind one saw yesterday one has to question things particularly when nothing of what was said or shown has any scientific basis. What is worst is that people believe what is shown without an iota of doubt. No matter how much we explained that a tsunami for example was not possible in Delhi, our logic was pooh poohed away as the TV had said it!
The other question that came to mind was the disturbing yet indubitable reality that people are always willing to believe bad and negative things and rarely positive ones. This probably stems from a feeling of deep insecurity. And nothing you can do or say can free them. The issues are too deep seated. And sadly this is what soothsayers, dubious astrologers and other such people play on, something that TRP seekers have understood and mastered.
