by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 11, 2009 | manu
Supercat is her email id and yet the name fits her like a glove. Cat a volunteer from Leeds leaves project why tomorrow after nine wonderful and fulfilling weeks. A slip of a girl, Cat is feisty and full of joie de vivre. But above all she is a young lady who knows the fox’s secret and applies it to everything she does: it is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.
Cat landed one afternoon and walked into our hearts. Her warmth was infectious, and her smile heartwarming. I still remember sitting with her one evening as she quietly shared her future plans and being floored when she told us without much ado that she has decided to work in palliative care with the terminally ill. She believed with passion that they deserved love and care and had the right to die with dignity. Her words moved me and I wondered what made a young girl like her walk such an unlikely path. The answer was simple: she just saw with her heart.
At project why, Cat worked with the special kids and brought cheer and laughter into their lives. Everyone of them took to her and vied for her attention. Be it Anjali, Manu, Champa, Honey, Himanshu, Ankur, Anuraag or Shalini, they all loved their Cat Didi. But it is little Sohil that stole her heart and it is he who asked the question we all wanted to ask but did not quite have the courage to: Why are you leaving Cat Didi?
But I know she will be back, till then we will make do with memories of her and with saying booter instead of butter!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 11, 2009 | Uncategorized
After the wrath and anger of my last post, I needed a healing touch before I could pick by virtual pen again. I knew that unless I mended my hurt, I would not be able to carry on and above all ran the risk of taking decisions I might later regret. So I waited for the proverbial sign and it came unexpectedly in the form of my little grandson tucked inside an old carton box looking at me with eyes filled with hope, hope that I would reach out to him and pick him up. Needless to say I did and that simple gesture melted my anger in a trice.
His eyes were trusting and brimming with innocence. He somehow knew that I would free him from his box and allow him to crawl wherever he wanted. I must admit that he did just that! I sat watching him zip around the house giggling and laughing and when he tired he sat down and applauded himself hoping again we would follow. I had fulfilled his momentary wish and that is all there was to it.
All children are like Agastya. Their little worlds are simple and they look up to those who love them to actualise their wants and needs. And so it should be but sadly that is not the case for millions of children whose little dreams get crushed out even before they are expressed. They are confined to little boxes and no one is their to lift them out and set them free. The little silly game Agastay and I played was an eye opener and made me look at pwhy in an altogether different way. Were not all our children trapped in little boxes and were we not there to try and set them free? What a challenge but more than that what a wonderful and blessed task. So what if the adults around them sometimes behaved irrationally and stupidly. Perhaps they were still locked in their boxes as no one had set them free.
I realised that I had foolishly allowed myself to be locked in a box, albeit for a few instants, and little Agastya Noor had set me free.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 6, 2009 | Uncategorized
It was a balmy day. The kind that sets you in a mellow mood and makes you feel benign. It was also PTM day, something I always look forward to and that for more reasons than one! First of all it is always lovely to meet the children, but there is more. The few hours spent in the little boarding school are always an escape to an island of hope and allow me to forget the trials and tribulations of my everyday existence and simply relax for a few hours be it by imbibing myself into a kid’s world, or even getting a lesson in life! One thing is sure each PTM is unique and special.
So we set out for this one in a happy mood. I was accompanied by Cat and Lukas two young volunteers. We reached early and were told that the children were in their respective classes. We set out to find them and lie all parents dreaded the outcome of the meeting with the teachers. But we were in for a surprise. All our stars had once again performed extremely well and three of them were first in their class with Babli and Vicky getting certificate of merit for best handwriting and scholar of the month! Wow we were stunned. These were little slumkids, the kind no one expects anything from, the kind you write off without even giving them a chance to prove the contrary.
My heart swelled with pride and I felt absolved of all the criticism and cynicism I had faced when I had dared think of sending such children to a upmarket boarding school. Maybe I had read it all wrong: the reticence of privileged people to open the portals of quality learning to kids from slums and poor homes stemmed from the fear or the conviction of knowing that they would outshine their privileged peers! Food for thought.
As we had planned to stay for a short time, we had brought some goodies to share with the kids as there was to be no trip to the pizza parlour. We sat on the grass and opened the boxes and I must confess we had as good a time as the kids as we gobbled cookies and cakes washed with warm cups of syrupy tea generously provided by the school. It was a perfect moment, one we knew was not to last but that we enjoyed to the fullest.
It was time to go and we bade farewell to the kids. Our driver seemed to have vanished to we stood next to the car and waited for him to reappear. In one corner of the patch of grass where we stood sat a little family. An elderly man with the kindest face you could imagine in spite of his forbidding moustache, and five boys aged between 15 and 9. The man had a picnic basket from which he fished out little glasses, bowls and plates. He had two large packets of food and I looked at him and smiled. He immediately invited us all to share the meal he had brought for his children and would not take no for an answer. There were divine millet rotis and homemade butter, the kind that comes straight from a farm. We shared this simple meal with a little guilt as this was what he had brought for his children, but refusing it would have been anathema and gone against all what real India stands for. It was an incredibly moving moment, particularly for young Cat and Lukas: a glimpse of India they would never forget.
The driver was there and it was time to go. Lukas wanted to know when the next PTM would be as he wanted to invite the proud and generous man! I smiled. I did not know if you would ever see him again, but we all knew that we would carry this moment in our hearts forever.
Here are some snapshots of this very special day
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 6, 2009 | Uncategorized
I am livid and have been so for the past twenty four hours or almost! Not the way I usually am but some things do make me see red. I have been mulling over my extreme reaction for the past twenty four hours as I knew it was far deeper than a simple reaction to a apparently innocuous incident. And here I am twenty four hours later writing a ruminative essay on compassion and gratitude.
It all began with a phone call. The call was from Prabin, our foster care teacher. Apparently the mothers of two our boarding school kids were with him and were asking him to ask me to arrange for transport that they would pay for so that they could go the the school PTM! As I said not a big deal but somehow it was like the proverbial straw that breaks the camel’s back. I could have easily dismissed the request by a curt no and ended the matter. But that was not to be.
To set the record straight before I go on, parents of the 4 children that are in boarding school were taken to the school for the first PTM some months and told that henceforth they would have to make arrangements to go to subsequent ones themselves as I felt this was the every least they could do. The boarding school is accessible by public transport. The request of the two ladies was thus totally out of place.
However the request they made was very much in sync with a disturbing fact that has been plaguing us for quite some time and that we have tried our best to ignore and/or justify as best we could. The disturbing fact is the total lack of gratitude that we have witnessed over the years from those we have helped. And what is troubling is the fact that the larger the quantum of help, the less the feeling of gratitude. It is almost as if greed creeps in when help is forthcoming. The two ladies in question are perfect examples of this: we sponsored the open heart surgery of one’s daughter and cared for the other when she was terribly sick. I am at a loss to try and fathom why this happens? Is it because of desperation or because of wiliness. I would still like to believe it is the former but I really do not know. And today I somehow am not finding it in my heart to forgive easily.
For the past ten years I have been battling the lack of compassion I see in my social peers and the Lord only knows how much of it I have seen. Whether it is when I seek monetary help or share stories of the work we do, I am often met with disapproval bordering on contempt. What kept me going was the fact that I still believed and held on to the fact that what one was doing was at least appreciated by those it benefited. Please do not think that one is looking for kudos and credit. Far from that. But what irks me today is the feeling of being taken for granted. And that leads me to think that the lack of compassion perhaps stems from this very fact.
I know I have to take hold of myself and not let my momentary exasperation translate into any action I might regret tomorrow. I have to hold on to the fact that I am helping children who have done no harm and are in no way responsible for the idiosyncrasies of their parents. I have to assuage my heart and check my temper. And above all have to try and figure out one teaches compassion and gratitude to children so that they grow up with the right values.
So help me God!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 6, 2009 | Uncategorized
I recently sent a mail to a dear friend, staunch supporter and incredible human being informing him about amongst other things my recent award. I his usual gentle and unassuming manner he sent his heartfelt congratulations and a link stating simply: In fact I’ve been getting some press lately as well–In fact I’ve been getting some press lately as well! When I opened the link I feel off my chair: Willy has been selected for the Rhodes Scholarship!
If anyone ever deserved if it Willy.
I have know Willy for two years now but it seems I always knew him as he is what I would like every young person in the world to be like. He slipped into our lives via an email offering help. It sounded like no big deal. But Willy Oppenheim is one of a kind. When I first interacted with him via emails, I never would have imagined Willy was what we call just a kid, the kind who go pubbing and hand around with friends and have just barely grown out of GI Joes and Ben Tens! At the age when young people actually do that, Willy and his friends were busy finding ways to make a difference and boy they did. They set up the omprakash foundation and began reaching out to the less privileged the world over.
When I first met Willy in the very early hours of a summer morning in Delhi, when I had just woken up and he was still not asleep having just landed, I was deeply moved. Though we had never met and though almost 3 decades separated us in age, we hugged as old friends would. It seemed just right as we both knew how to see with our hearts.
Today Willy is not only a friend, but someone I turn to when I need a sounding board for new ideas, when I need reassurance, when I feel a little low and need to be uplifted and also when I need help and he has always been there for me. Thanks to the omprakash foundation we at pwhy have weathered many a storm and also own a great library with thousands of books.
I will end this post by quoting the opening para of Willy’s application essay for the Rhodes Scholarship: I spent my adolescent years idolising the men with whom I worked in construction in rural Maine. The chasm between this environment and my affluent Connecticut hometown made me self-conscious of my privilege and determined to forgo college until I felt that my elite education could benefit someone other than myself. As an eighteen year old volunteer teacher in India, I was suddenly invigorated by the idea that i could use my relationships with local educators to amplify their voice before a global audience an d help avid the tendency of development efforts to patronize and disempower those they intend to serve…
Willy has already done more than that! The children of project why join me in sending their congratulations to their Willy Bhaiya!
