Time out!

Time out!

The past few days, weeks, months and year have been difficult, stressing and very trying. One year to figure out what was making my husband wane in front of my eyes, and the last 2 months or so dealing with an unwanted guest who has surreptitiously taken my life over, or almost over as I struggle to find the almost invisible cracks and try to fit in vestiges of life as I knew it. My moments of sanity have been in my writing as many of you may have realised. But today it was time out day!

Today was PTM day and an important one at that as I was also taking Utpal’s counsellor with me to meet his teachers but you will have to wait for another post to know what happened as I do not want this one to have even a tinge of negativity.

As some of you may remember from earlier posts, PTM day has always been by never fail feel good shot, and though I could not spend as much time as I would have wanted with the children, just hugging them made the dark clouds vanish. It was as if the moment I entered the gates of the school, I had stepped out the world of Sir Hodgkin and his retinue of injections, tests, and chemos and entered a place where hope and joy were the only guest allowed!

I have put two almost alike pictures as in each them the six kids (two were missing) have different expressions and each one is a masterpiece. I could look at these snaps for long and still find something new that hides behind what is seen. What a wonderful feeling.

When I think of the traumas each of these kids have suffered for not fault of theirs before they came to this place I guess goose bumps. Two of them, Utpal and Meher had to go through a baptism by fire before life smiled at them, one never knew if her rag picker mum would have earned enough so that she and her three siblings would not sleep hungry; one was almost adopted by a page 3 family and then dropped like a hot potato. Each one of them with a story that would wrench your heart.

But then miracles happen! I have seen so many over the past 10 years. So here they are: a bunch of kids many would have given up on, forging a new morrow filled with hope and love of course. And looking at them smile makes your worst fears vanish, at least as long as you are in their hallowed space.

Time out it was!

Mamaji

Mamaji

Here is a picture of the fab four that are running project why at present. You may recognise the three musketeers standing, but the fourth, sitting on a chair is someone I have not talked about much. And yet he has been keeping the project afloat and cruising since its very inception. Every one knows him as Mamaji. Mamaji means mother’s brother in Hindi, and Satish has been like a brother to me more since I lost my parents. I could not have survived the myriad of formalities that follow the death of an individual and it was only because of his help that I could overcome all that was needed to be done. When project why was a bare thought in mind, the first name that came to me was his. I felt a little shamefaced when I realised that I had never written about him in the numerous blogs that trace the project why story. And it is not just his role in pwhy but his life story which needs to be told.

I first met Mamaji almost 30 years ago when he started looking after my father’s financial issues: insurance, investments etc. My father’s bank manager had introduced Satish to him and somehow Papa liked him from day one. Papa was very intuitive about people and rarely warmed up to anyone at the first sight, but he did with Satish. In those days Mamaji use to come on a bicycle from the boonies and he later confided in me that he owned one shirt and had to wash it every night. Those were the days of terylene drip dry shirts. Many of those reading this blog would not even know what they looked like. Anyway Mamaji use to to pedal across the city and I must say was a far cry form the rotund man he is now. He looked after Papa’s affairs meticulously though he had one huge defect that made Papa very cross. That huge defect is still very much there but it is part of who he is, his unique identification number. That defect is that he is never on time, and by on time I do not mean a few minutes or more but it could be hours. Papa on the other hand was a true diplomat who always reached on time. I cannot recall the number of times we have circled around houses where we were invited before ringing the bell at the given time. This is something I inherited and totally out of sync with a city called Delhi where the expression ‘fashionably late’ acquires a new dimension.

I also cannot recall the number of times Papa delayed his afternoon tea as Satish was supposed to come at let us say 5pm. The pakora (fritter) batter was ready, the vegetables cut and the oil on low heat. 5 would become 5.30 and mama would urge him to have his tea. remember there were no mobile phones in those days! But the gentleman that he was would not. Mamaji would arrive at  6 or even 6.30 and Papa, who would have spent the previous hour cursing  and pacing as he was a man who could not bear hunger would not, as one would expect get angry at the young man who was all sweat, apologies and smile, but would welcome him with a big smile and a loud ‘get the tea’ meant for the kitchen staff. It must have taken mama and I a few more waiting sessions to convince Papa that he should have his tea and snack at 5 and we would make some for Satish when he came. I think Papa admired this young man who was honest, hard working and sincere. I also think the Heavens do stand by such souls as Mamaji graduated from bicycle, to two wheelers, to car and then cars! What is remarkable is that he never compromised on the values he respected.

I think Papa did have a talk with Satish just before he died and asked him to stand by me. He did and the reason why I could walk effortlessly into Papa’s shoes, was because of him. And he was the person I felt I could trust to stand by me when I decided to start Project Why. I could never have handled or handle the complex paper work administrative and financial, one has to comply with to run a charity in India.

Mamaji still comes late but we all have got used to it. When he tells me he is five minutes away, he could be miles away, I sternly ask him his exact location and get a truthful answer.  One of the reasons for this annoying habit of his, is that he cannot say no to anyone. And spite of being late he always delivers what he has promised. To me, he has been God sent as I could not have run pwhy without his presence and help.

True he can be brusque at times and lacks  savoir faire and such social graces, but his other qualities make up for his lack of tact. What he does is always for the good of any situation and one cannot ask him to sugar coat the bitter pill.

I have great admiration for this man as I know how much he struggled in his life and the price he paid to get where he is. He could be an inspiration for many, but today’s young want to get everything and get it fast.

For the past two months, he has stood like a rock next to me and handled all the ludicrous paperwork needed to get Ranjan his treatment. I do not know how many trips he has made to the airport to get the credit notes that are needed to benefit from Ranjan’s Air India insurance! I would have given up, but not he and the nicest thing is that he never looses his smile.

 True he can be infuriating at times, but which younger brother isn’t! 

Running with the wolves

Running with the wolves

In the latest issue of a popular weekly is an article about gang rape. I waited patiently for the said article to come on line before writing this post. I urge you to read this article as it differentiates between a gang rape and rape by a lone individual. The boys you see smiling in this picture are project why students from Okhla. They are great kids and yet if things went wrong they could turn into gang rapists. Why? Simply because children in India have been let down in every which way possible, all their rights usurped by one and all. The December gang rape got us out on the streets; we did get out of your stupor and broke our usual silence, just for the time we thought would be adequate before returning to our lives. I guess it was because the Delhi rape was too close for comfort and we seemed to pretended to be satisfied with a Commission, the efforts of which we must salute and the watered down ordinance that was promulgated in haste. We crawled back into our comfort zones completely oblivious to the innumerable rapes and gang rapes that happened with as much alacrity and impunity. Then some days back we woke up again or should I say paid attention without leaving our comfort zones to the gang rape of the young photo journalist in Mumbai. The death penalty we had so vehemently demanded for the Delhi gang rape was again heard.

In the nine months between the two gang rapes, the perpetrators of the first one are on the verge of receiving their sentence. One died in jail in. The other, a minor received the maximum sentence possible under the prevailing law of the land. The question of lowering the age of a minor for heinous crimes should certainly be debated and reviewed, but as it stand today, he has got the maximum punishment.

This blog is not meant to defend any one or any law. It is just meant to share my views on these issues given the fact that I have been working for the past 13 years with children who can, if not helped, turn into law breakers and even brutal rapist.

The article I quoted, and provide the link again, should be read carefully to understand why young people can turn to brutal predators in the social environment that they are forced to live in. According to a sociologist: One must separate rape from gang rape, a single person raping a single woman with a knife at her throat is one thing. But groups of boys getting together, for a ‘boys’ night out’, and having fun at the expense of a lone wounded woman is something else. The phenomena exists world wide. These gang rapes are power games meant to display their manhood. The leader is often the most insecure but being in a pack, like wolves or dogs, makes him brave and fool hardy and often the most violent of the lot. The article also gives a wide range of other scientific reasons for such terrible cases and unless these reasons are not addressed, gang rapes will continue.

India is sitting on a huge tinder box that will blow at hour faces if we do not something, and do it quick.  Soon we will have over 706 million marginalised, restless young people on our hands as is aptly pointed out in an incisive article by Anuja Chauhan. I know there millions who are very angry at the fact that the juvenile rapist has ‘got away’ with three years in a remand home. I would just like to draw your attention on what his life  was and it should have been if things worked right. I am surprised at the fact that even educated people are reacting in this manner. I would want the boy hanged if someone told me it would put and end to rapes in India. But sadly it is not so. His is the story of thousands of young boys who flee or are sent to the ‘big’ city to earn a living as there was no hope left in their village. He had dropped out of school, his father was mentally ill and his mother earned barely enough to feed her 5 kids. Like many others he got a job in a eatery always on the look out for such children who are cheap labour. He sent money home and then silence. His mother thought he was dead. She only heard of him after the rape. In the past 7 years nothing has changed in his home. It is still as hopeless as when he left it. Like many other boys he got involved in a pack, and that was his downfall. On that fateful night he emerged as the most violent as he was probably the one with the lowest self esteem, the one who had to prove himself.

True he will be out in less than three years because he was a ‘minor’ on the day he ran with the wolves. Will the three years be able to reform him. Keeping in mind the state of our reform homes, I wonder if anything will change. A reform home cannot make up for the lost childhood and the years this boy had to survive in a big city.

So where have we gone wrong and who is responsible. In spite of the innumerable schemes and rights that exist on paper or at best are poorly implemented, children from poor homes do not get what is their due. Schools do not run or are not enabling spaces, but spaces where brutality and abuse are the order of the day. The quality of education is abysmal, the child goes from class to class without learning anything and if he does not drop out then he often gets a certificate with 33%. This does not give him access to any employment at all. I work with children from such homes. Our Okhla centre was opened in a garbage dump simply because we found out children from the slums tucked away in between factories were being used by local mafias to push drugs and steal from the goods trains that often stopped on the tracks behind the dump. Today 300 children study at our centre. They are all mainstreamed and doing very well. They also learn computers and love it. A few years ago, I was told that the leader of the local gang was looking for me and wanted to ‘kill’ me. His name was Aiyya. I was amused and said I wanted to meet him. Someone went looking for him and found him. My would be murdered was a young man with a broad smile. He looked gentle. When I asked him if he really wanted to kill me, he fell at my feet.

I spent a long time talking to this young lad who I know was and addict, a drug pusher and probably indulged in many more crimes, I saw a child whose dreams had been crushed by circumstances. I could not hold my tears when he said: I wish you were here when I was growing up. I asked him if there was anything I could do for him now and his reply was heartbreaking. he simply said: we are now used to easy money and the life that goes with it. We will not be able to earn an honest living but please make sure these children do! Aiyya may one night be part of a boys night out and run with wolves and land himself in trouble, or he may just continue his life of crime till he is caught. There is no hope for him. I just pray he remains safe.

What can be done you may ask. There is a solution or many, but does our Government have the will to do so. Schools have to be run properly, but we cannot even manage to do that in our capital city. And most of all skills need to be taught from class VII itself so that a child that graduates or even fails knows a skill that will give him a start. I am not a Narendra Modi fan but I cannot but agree with him when he says:The nation’s priority is skill development. We have 65 per cent youth in our country. They are hard working but they lack skills. They have certificates. The Central government thinks that a certificate by itself grants a person skills for employment, just like they believe that the Food Security legislation by itself can feed the nation“. The question is whether these words are just political drama or whether he will walk the talk if need be.

Between 1971 and 2011 rape has grown by 873%! What has changed is the environment.Today the advent of contract workers has deprived migrants of any security. As Dipankar Gupta says:  They have no security, no roof over their head, no family support and as they are thrown together with each other by circumstance, they indulge in reckless behaviour and do not think about repercussions. They have no one to answer to and no one to go back to. It’s an inflammable lot.”

So will the kids in this picture grow up to be good citizens or will they run with the wolves. Only time will tell.

Chapeau Bas

Chapeau Bas

There are many side effects to my husband’s cancer and chemotherapy. I am not talking of the medical ones listed on every site possible. I am talking about the good side effects, those that are unique to each case of Mr Hodgkin and his ilk. These are the unexpected side effects, the ones that are serendipitous and happen without warning and warm the cockles of one’s heart.

For the past as many years as project why has been in existence, I have never failed to go each day and spend time at the different sites. I do admit that the time spent became shorter as the project became bigger and the team stronger, but still being the control freak I am, I could not resist going or if I did, resist I mean, then I would call I do not know how many times and then grill the girls when they came home. Even when I left the city for a few days, and it must not be more than 10 spread over 10 years, I never missed calling. In hindsight I must admire my team for their patience and forbearance. They must love me immensely! And though I did trust my team implicitly. It just that me control freak who could not give up ‘my control trip and limit myself to my duties: raising funds and writing! I guess there was a bit of an ego trip too as project why was/is what I have done best in my life, or so I would like to believe.

But a man who died almost 200 years ago changed everything when he decided to come visiting! I mean Mt Hodgkin of course! His arrival meant a change of priorities, at least till things got better and he was booted up. But he is a tough customer and here to stay for some time at least. Unlike others of his kind, who get pacified with a few pills or pokes, this guy is erratic and unpredictable and demands all your attention. So its is one control freak pitted against the other. But I am digressing, this post is not about the flights of fancy of Mr H, but about the good side effects of his unsolicited presence.

The past two months have seen me withdraw and ultimately take leave of absence from project why. A case of force majeure! My time table is so hectic and erratic that there is no may I can plan fixed time for project why. Not even the phone calls! Yet project why had been running perfectly thanks to three incredible persons who not only carry on the day-to-day activities, but handle all challenges and problems with flair and aplomb. Rani who was just a kid when she first came to us, has bloomed into a manager even the Gods would recruit. From a shy and slightly withdrawn teenager, she has grown into a mature and poised woman who handles a large part of project why and ensures that all runs well. You could not fine a better option. Shamika, who also happens to be my daughter, seconds Rani in the daily running of the project and looks after our most cherished class: the special one! Mr H has made me see my own child in a new light: as a mature and capable young woman. If Rani is the perfect administrator,  Shamika is her mother’s daughter as she sees with her heart. The two of them make a better me!

The girls run Govindputi, Giri Nagar and Okhla. But a few kilometers away is our women centre with over 300 children and women. One may think it is headed by a woman. Not at all. This centre is run by Dharmendra, an incredibly humane person and a social activist at heart. I am amazed at how much we have in common as his views are completely in sync with mine. So over and above our basic mission, he finds time to deal with social and environmental issues that are close to my heart. A true gem!

These three musketeers have taken over the running of Project Why and I must confess they do a better job than I ever could. They are supported by an exceptional team. So a huge and wonderful side effect of Mr H has been the  realisation that project why is in the best hands I could have wished for and I can rest in peace and carry one my one point mission of kicking out Mr H as soon as possible.

Today as we celebrate teacher’s day, I salute these three gems humbly. They are the ones who gave wings to my impossible dreams. It is time I let them fly free.

Chapeau Bas guys!

I chose not to place ‘dis’ in my ability

I chose not to place ‘dis’ in my ability

Who said they could not do it. I am talking about my very special kids and their exceptional teachers. This is how the story goes: Shamika the leader of the crew came to me one morning asking for 2000 rupees to paint her class. Need to be noted that her class is a three room flat! I told her I would tell our administrator to get the painting done as soon as we had some extra funds. She can be very stubborn and more so because I am not just Ma’am but also Mom. She told me she and her kids were capable of painting the class and anyway they also wanted to decorate it so no painter would do. I know my Shamika, when she gets in this kind of mode, then even God would not be able to change her mind. I meekly gave her the money.

Now her crew is three teachers and a bunch of differently abled children and when I imagined them trying to get to the top of the wall or the roof, my heart stopped. Would they use ladders? And what if they fall? Did it really need painting? But I dared not ask as Shamika would never accept any advice or suggestion that could in anyway show her kids in a bad light. But the thought of Umesh on a table with a paint brush or a roller made my blood run cold. Umesh has cerebral palsy. Anyway I prayed to all the Gods for their safety. The following days I asked if all was well and was told that everything was fine. Then one day, Shamika sent me some pictures and asked me to print them as they wanted to draw them on the walls. I did as I was told.

Yesterday I was shown some pictures and I could not believe my eyes. What a wonderful and perfect job these kids and their caretakers had done. But then have not always believed in the ability of those people call ‘disabled’. What an ugly word. These children have taught me so much and have always been my feelgood shot! I really miss them and must make time in my new life for them.

I leave you to decide the worth of their work. And btw they did it all in 2000 Rs! It would have cost us 10 times more had we got painters in.

Who needs work clothes when towels can do just as well
Scrubbing and cleaning

They chose the quotes themselves
You do not need to stand to paint 

You understand why I was frightened
Munna master of  the roller
Flowers that never bend in the rainfall
 Munna and Umesh the fantastic two

Raja found his vocation
And even Rituji tried her best
Coming soon: the finished classrooms!