Kiran, a ray of sunshine
As I downloaded the day’s pictures I came across this one. It is our own little Kiran having lunch at pwhy on one of her rare days off from school. Kiran is special to us as she was born just when pwhy began. She grew with us and became an integral part of our lives.
She is an exceptional child in more ways than one and has often delighted us with her own brand of logic: bet it her own type of English or her little pearls of wisdom.
Kiran spent the first years of her life either being carried around practically where ever I went, or as she grew older in the special section which she somehow preferred to the creche! Slowly but surely an incredible bond was created between this little girl and the kids in the special section notwithstanding their age. Kiran is now in school but her ties with her pals have gone stronger. She spends all her off days and holidays with them and often turns teacher for the day!
Kiran goes to an upmarket school now as her humble family feels that it will open new doors for her. She is slowly learning about the unfortunate divides that exist in our society and expresses them in her own candid ways, and deals with them with a little help from us. But Kiran has never felt the need to alienate one life for the other. She is equally at easy with the kids in her street as she is with her school pals and finds time for her buddies too. She flits comfortably from loud Hindi slang, to barely audible English to sign language when communicating with her hearing impaired friends.
The above post is my answer to a doubt recently voiced about the wisdom of a new project we have launched at the behest of a well wisher. Sadly these apprehensions stem out from the attitude of potential donors, something I had foreseen and expressed at a time when things were still being debated. Helping children break social barriers is anathema to many. What is pitiful is that no one will accept this reality. The blame will be squarely put on the tiny shoulders of the potential beneficiary with supercilious ease.
I am not endowed with the gift of divination and cannot see into the future. Yet I am reasonably certain that Kiran and any other child who is given a chance, will be an asset and not a liability to society. It is also true that all children given the same chance may not turn out to be exceptional. Unless we give a reasonable chance to this project, we will never know what truly happens.
New ideas, specially those that rock the boat never find takers. Yet they are the ones that bring about the change we all want to see and somehow once again in the life of pwhy we find ourselves faced with a new challenge we know we have to take on with courage and determination.
dear to us are those who love us
Dear to us are those who love us. . .
but dearer are those who reject us as unworthy,
for they add another life;
they build a heaven before us whereof we had not dreamed,
and thereby supply to us new powers
out of the recesses of the spirit . . .
It is easy to reject and people do it with ease. Special kids are not a worthy cause to defend, a carefully crafted dream is not to one’s taste; ten years of a labour of love are inappropriate in a world where everything is coloured in dividends and returns; dreams and aspirations are inadequate as they remain intangible in our materialistic times. Today what is sought are quick and visible results.
I concede to the fact that in the world we have nurtured for almost a decade now, things take time and may seem elusive at first. A child who can barely hold her head at 5 needs years to walk her first step; one who cannot hear or speak has to muster strength from unknown depths to mouth her first intelligible sound; and the being rejected and scorned for years needs time to trust another again. But when they do walk, speak or trust it is nothing short of a miracle, one that was worth waiting for.
It is also true that the ones we fondly call our
special kids, often do not make a pretty picture. It is also true that no matter how much or how well they learn they will never be able to compete with their peers who are aid to be normal. True again that they are not a wise or sound investment. We simply cast them aside with a string of harsh or politically correct names: disabled, handicapped, challenged, differently abled.If you have ever set your doubts and apprehensions aside and cared to enter the world of these
wonderful beings, you will soon see that the above attributes better describe us than them. They accept you with open hearts and huge smiles and without any judgment. They open their world to you without restrain. They are grateful fro whatever you give them and expect no more. But that is not all. They have a secret mission, one that maybe even they are not aware of: they compel you to look at yourself with honesty and courage. The moment you have dared to look into their eyes be prepared for a journey to the depth of your soul.
As a friend once told me, special kids are Angels sent to earth to show us what we truly are capable of. So blessed are the ones who are given the opportunity to care for such souls. They give us the courage to walk that extra mile, grit to carry on in the face of all adversities till we reach our goal and realise our dreams.
So as the rejections come our way, we need to see them as a boon and be grateful to those who
cast them as they alone will give us the impetus needed to defend the causes we hold dear to us
and build dreams no matter how impossible they seem.
building a dream
A mail dropped by. It was from a dear friend, one of the few who look with their hearts and walk that extra mile for to save dreams, particularly those conjured by others. At this moment of time he is busy saving mine. A dream that began almost a decade ago with a chance encounter between a middle aged woman and a street beggar.
The plight of that young soul confined in a useless body and a fractured mind pilloried by all perturbed the woman for many nights. Somehow she knew that she had to do something, something larger than throwing a few coins his way. And thus the dream began. The dream of giving Manu a life!
Henry Thoreau said: If you build castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. Yes, thinking of giving Manu a life, one where he could have a warm bed to sleep in and friends to laugh with and share a meal with was indeed a chimera.
My mind goes back to the first meal shared with Manu. He was still encrusted with years of dirt and abuse. We had given him a plate of dal and some rotis . He sat on a stool eating them quietly. A while later he looked up and smiled at me and offered me a piece of roti dipped in dal. I sat next him and ate. Maybe that was when the foundation was laid.
Years have passed. Manu has friends and spends the day at pwhy. He even goes to birthday parties where he shares a treat with his pals The foundation has got stronger. But Manu still does not have a bed to sleep in and a place to call his own. The foundation is still not finished. The dream will be truly fulfilled with planet why.
You can share some of the moments of the birthday party here
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How I wish
How I wish I had 10/20 lakhs to spare if not the whole 80! These heartwarming words dropped into my mailbox shortly after my appeal for help. They may seem anodyne to some, empty to others, and to yet others as futile as the famed if wishes were horses.. But to me these simple words are the expression of the immense love and unstinted trust that have come our way since the day we took our first hesitant step on the journey called project why and has made our every wish a reality.
Our steps grew bolder, our dreams larger and each one was backed by a wonderful network of people who saw with their hearts and never turned their back on us. Hearts were mended, hopes fulfilled and new ones crafted, and challenges accepted with new found conviction as there was always someone out there who came forward and embraced them with us.
And along the way came the ultimate dream: planet why, one that would make us come full circle and above all provide a befitting finale to my swan song. It was a dream I started sharing with all those who had made pwhy possible, hesitantly at first but as days went by with more confidence and even temerity.
Today the dream seems a reality within our reach. True that some minor hiccups came our way, but none big enough to make us stop, let alone lose faith. Once again I have been overwhelmed by the spontaneous offers of help that have come our way. True that they may seem small or even insignificant when viewed against the target we have to meet but that is only if you look at them with your eyes. When you look with your heart, each one of them is priceless.
Some have offered whatever they could spare, others have proffered words of support and encouragement that infuse us with the strength to go on. A publisher friend offered us a 50% of sale profits of books sold to pwhy supporters and donors. Many have donned their thinking caps and are brainstorming about ways to raise money. Across the world, a bevy of project why supporters are at work to make planet why come true.
How I wish I had.. are not empty words at all.
chilling justice
The baffling judgement pronounced by a local court yesterday reinforced once again the vulnerability of children in India. A little girl allegedly raped by her own father was sent back to live with him as the man was acquitted because the key witnesses (her mother and sister) turned hostile.
At the time of the rape she was 4, today she is 7. I cannot begin to think what goes on in her tiny mind and am at a loss to picture the consequences that this will have on her tomorrows. This tender soul has been raped not only by her father but by all those she could trust, her mother, her sister and above all the entire system ostensibly created to protect her: society with all its trimmings: police, legal system and what not.
What is galling and frightening are the words pronounced by the judge: The acquittal in this case is painful as a blossoming child is alleged to have been ravished by her own father. But unfortunately her mother and sister turned hostile. But what is disturbing apart from the acquittal is the fact that the victim may have to live under the same roof and in the same hands of the accused.
Is justice blind to this point?
Even if one was to play Devil’s Advocate there is not much one could proffer. The mother was vulnerable in a society that is ruthless to one who dares go against her husband. The sister had no option but say what she was told to. The mother alone could not have brought up the children alone. The judge had to go by the book and so on.
And in all this the little child was forgotten and had no one to stand by her and protect her. My mind goes back to one of our students who had been raped by a neighbour when she was 4. The man was caught, did a stint in jail and came out an resumed his life. The girl grew up and became a teenager but her past followed her: she was branded a bad girl and no one talked or played with her as she had once had been raped, never mind if she was barely 4 at the time.
My heart goes out to this little child whose childhood has been ravished and who stands helpless and alone.
D Day minus 70
It is with the spirit of the soldiers of the Light Brigade that we have set out to raise the funds needed to secure the piece of land that came our way almost by miracle. When we began this daunting task we were needless to say petrified. This was way out of league. But two days later we find ourselves armed with newfound confidence as the 10 lacs needed to buy us two months of reprieve landed our way not as a loan, but as a donation from two wonderful souls that have always been there for us.
We now need to raise the remaining money. Easier said than done. But one look at the kids in the picture is enough to fuel us with determination and courage. To many the picture may seem innocuous, just a bunch of kids enjoying a picnic. Let me unravel the reality that lies behind. Most of these children are what is in our day and age called differently abled. Preeti who sits on the table walks on her hands, Sapna sitting in front is 12 though she looks 5. Champa whose smile is larger than life was abused, Ruchi will soon be unable to walk as she suffers from a debilitating neurological syndrome.. the list is endless each child in this picture has a future in jeopardy, held by a tenuous link: the life span of a mother. Oops I forgot there are two little girls in the picture who are wat one says in common parlance normal. Yashu who has been celebrating her birthdays for now five years with hers special pals, and Kiran who has known them since she was a baby.
Yesterday was Yashu’s birthday and our special kids had a day out at Dilli Hath. Like regular kids they played, blew candles, sang, ate cake and got return gifts. They too had bought their gift: beautiful cards they had made with love and care.
Most of these kids will grow up and one day become differently abled adults.. While differently abled kids are cute, adults are not. They become the butt of ridicule and are often derided and pilloried. It is a sad and harsh reality that often after the death of their parents, such children are rejected by heir won families. That is what happened to Manu who in spite of having a family was left to roam the streets and beg. Planet Why is for each one of them, as they grow old and lose all hope. It is to ensure that they live with dignity, surrounded by love and care and tended to till they move on.
We have 70 days to make this come true. Not much time but when one looks at these wonderful children one knows that we have to do it, come what may.
Ours not to reason why. Ours but to do and die.
The last few days have been spent trying to comprehend what befell us. One day everything and more seemed going our way; the next we were struggling to hold on to a dream in peril. No matter which way one looked at it and how much one beat one’s self, it was impossible to find a reason that would explain, appease and lead us to accept the situation we found ourselves in and walk away.
We just took some time licking our wounds, regrouping and drawing new battle plans. We knew it was not time to recriminate neither was it time to accept defeat. We needed to review the situation and make the last ditch effort to salvage it.
The bottom line was that we found ourselves in a situation we had never faced in the past. A set of unforeseen circumstances had made the dream of owning a piece of land a reality, albeit a tenuous one. To make it happen we need to raise a whopping 70 lacs in two months. Our track record in raising funds is poor as we have always been a hand to mouth organisation. Our ability to meet our needs is best described as a constant struggle. Yet today we cannot give up and need to reinvent ourselves. Too much is at stake.
The piece of land holds the key to securing the dreams and hopes we have nurtured for almost a decade. What makes them precious is that they were not conjured by the ones who will benefit, but stars that we put into their eyes, thus making us responsible and answerable.
What lies ahead is our ability to secure a loan and then set about repaying it. A Case for Planet Why has been drafted and is being sent out to everyone we know. New ideas for funding are being mooted and discussed and will be executed. Should we not do so, then all past efforst would be in vain.
My mind goes back to the Charge of The Light Brigade
Was there a man dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Someone had blunder’d:
Their’s not to make reply,
Their’s not to reason why,
Their’s but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1854
with open eyes
Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their mind,
Wake in the morning to find that it was vanity. But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people,
For they dream their dreams with open eyes,
And make them come true.
Yet in the words of Richard Bach: you are never given a dream without also being given the power to make it true. Planet Why is just that sort of dream, one conjured with open eyes, one that aimed at securing many others.
It remained a dream for a long time till one day it a breathtaking string of unforeseen events jolted it to the realm of the possible. The dream threw up challenges that to some looked more like obstacles. It was in jeopardy and before it could be further destroyed it seeped back in to the night waiting for another morn.
I know its is safe and will reemerge again when the time is right. In the meantime we have a project to run.
The big picture – practice what you preach
When I was a little girl and things looked bad, my papa used to talk about the big picture. It was his way of explaining to his hurting child that what seemed dark and gloomy at that moment was actually a tiny part of a big picture full of colour and light that we could not see. It was his way of explaining the mystery of life, the presence of a higher Being and the reason of the fleeting woe.
The little girl was satisfied and ran off with a smile on her face. The teenager was more difficult to assuage and did turn rebellious but ultimately had to concede to its wisdom, the woman found the solace she often needed. The big picture became a part of my life and I found myself often referring to it to explain situations that defied logic.
Yet when I was dealt with a blow recently I was momentarily taken aback and wallowed in despair, giving undue importance to what was just one tiny splash of dark hue on the harlequin picture that I conveniently had obliterated. My thoughts ran helter-skelter trying to reverse the situation forgetting that time moves but in one direction. For that moment in time I had forgotten all about the big picture.
But mercifully better set prevailed. I must have given my frenzied mind a tiny break as I found myself hearing my papa whisper “look at the big picture“. I had forgotten all about it in the moment I needed it the most. We often are guilty of not practicing what we so readily preach. I remember some years back when I was trying to battle local slumlords and wondering why we had been hit by such a storm, a friend simply reminded me that one should not bang one’s head on a close door but simply look for an open window. Yet one often realises that in spite of the all the wisdom one pretends to have, one easily forgets past lessons.
I am at a crossroad I stood at before. Sadly so lost was I in my hubris that I forgot to make a simple journey into past days to imbibe lessons once learnt and draw strength from the fact that we moved on and prospered as somewhere the big picture stood strong.
I know that in spite of the gloom that surrounds me and threatens to devour me, it is just part of a big picture I cannot see but know exists. The storm will blow, the clouds lift and the big picture will once again manifest itself in all its glory. One just has to hold on.
Anything that does not grow dies..
Anything that does not grow dies where the words almost whispered by S, as I sat helpless hearing the ominous words that were slowly but surely obliterating my carefully constructed dream of many moons. A dream that perhaps seeded when the little face on this picture had lost his smile or maybe the day I first heard Manu’s heart wrenching cries.
The dream at first was barely coherent but it lived for a long time in my heart, a disquieting reminder that something was missing in the work I was engaged in. An intangible prompting urging me to conjure the absent link that would complete the picture.With each passing day and ensuing task the dream was spurred on and started assuming substance and form and above all a name. I simply called it planet why and to me it was just a logical extension of project why. And though by force majeure it could not be located in close proximity to pwhy, it shared the same spirit and was fired with the same passion and motivation. If project why was a place where dreams were crafted , planet why was where they remained safe.
As I sat defenseless watching my dream dissolve, my mind set on a frantic flight seeking desperate answers: where had I gone wrong; what had I missed; why was this happening. A new why that had to be answered as in it lay the safety of all the answers we had sought till now. It had all seemed flawless, cogent… The assault of words carried on mercilessly barely giving me time to keep up. The place was too far, the staff was not willing, the idea had not been shared, people had not been heard… I listened in silence, holding on the tears that were threatening to fall as words the heart could not express.
It was then time for alternatives, suggestions, other possibilities..
I sat and heard them all, processing them to the best of my ability and attempting to see if they could replace the dream. Anything that does not grow dies and yet each option proffered excluded growth and though attractive in the present moment was doomed to die. Something needed to be done, the dream had to be saved, too much depended on it.
A day has gone by. I have tried to process all I heard. I must admit that much of what was said made sense when considered within the realm of today: the today that hues the reality we see: the choice of place does seem incongruous for a guest house we hope to fill to capacity. The distance seems alarming to anyone who simply walks to work. The list goes on: it is true that I bear the guilt of pushing my ideas and not giving time for people to react. It is also true that I often do not word things appropriately. Whatever the reasons and the past errors it is not time for recriminations but time to come together in solidarity as no matter how perfect a dream it cannot become reality without the conviction of all concerned.
However as one held guilty I think I do have the right to pen a defense. Planet Why came to be because one took a quantum leap into the future in more ways than one. I understand that there is a sense of comfort and reassurance in the present day scenario. Pwhy looks manageable and viable. Planet why was conceived for the day when the need may be felt for a larger place that one owns and where one can grow; the day when all are tired of seeking rented space or angry at seeing our special kids now adults not being welcome. Come that day land would be a chimera. Our rock pile was certainly what not I would have wanted had I got all the cards in my hand but was the only one that fitted our tight pockets and one that is poised for a sparkling make over. One can never chose the ideal situation and perhaps the end of a dream came because we do not have the ability to look at the future.
I also fully comprehend that no one would like to invest in a dream that looks very fragile and shaky at present and deprived of its sustainability element planet why loses its raison d’etre and looks like yet another liability. I more than anyone am loath to take on any more than we have. The task of meeting the present requirement is already weighing on my tiring shoulders so I should be the one to refuse any added burden. Then why am I finding it almost impossible to let the dream go? Why is it that just like on many occasions in the past when my team seemed reluctant to take on an new task, I feel compelled to soldier on. There is no urgency, no child hurting, no cause to defend and yet the drive is much the same.
I know no one wants to see pwhy die for want of combattants to use the famous quote from Corneille (Le Cid Act IV, Scene I) and yet unless we think of a doable alternative this may just happen. In my 9 years of begging I have seen that if there is nothing new on offer, sources dry out. One has to reinvent oneself all the time even if it means taking on a new responsibilities. Once again we are faced with the sustainability issue. And one again I am at a loss. And yet anything that does not grow dies
Some ideas were mooted but quite frankly each seemed daunting. One of them was that of ISR (Individual Social responsibility). I have been saddened by the total lack of heart I see and the total lack of compassion. I had placed great hopes in my one rupee a day dream hoping it would change attitudes. I was shocked at myself when as I sat redoing my website I wondered whether it still had a place in it. The ISR idea was welcome but then why did it seem jaded.
As I write these words I am at a loss to find answers and yet they need to be found as this is surely the most important why in our journey.
project why versus planet why
To many die hard project why supporters planet why is an aberration. I can understand their reaction as at first sight the two may seem totally incompatible. I beg their indulgence and beseech them to keep in mind that both emanate from the same source and have come in much the same way.
If project why saw the light of the day as a result of a chance encounter with Manu when a deafening loud why screamed for an answer that needed to be found, planet why was perhaps conceived more gently as a result of a string of quieter whys in no way less poignant.
Fate has played a curious role in my quest for answers to disturbing questions that have come my way in the bemusing journey called project why. It has set the course of this journey and steered it in directions that I could not have anticipated.
The vision of a man hobbling into my office with the help of a huge stick led us to create our heartfix hotel. At first this new venture of ours did seem to many yet another aberration. Such large sums of money to be spent on saving one child, a child whose future was uncertain, one that would just become one of the many millions barely surviving. Yet we did not give up and today over a dozen such children have had another go at life waiting for their destinies to unfold.
To some our decision of putting Utpal in a boarding school and helping his mom overcome a severe addiction and a debilitating psychological ailment was one more exorbitant deviation, but we again stood by what we believed to be right. To us it was simply a matter of finding the right answer to yet another why, a why that we never went seeking but that came our way as if guided by an invisible hand.
Hence slowly project why took a life of its own, one that often defied all logic, but one that I knew was the work of a far greater force. Time carried its inexorable course. Project why grew from why to why and with it the realisation of its extreme fragility and precarious nature that rested on the failing shoulders of an aging being bringing the inevitable question of its ability to fulfill all the responsibilities that laid upon it. What would become of the Manus that had come its way and of the hopes and dreams so tenderly nurtured.
Yet another answer needed to be found and it was planet why: a place where dreams would be secure. The journey seemed to be reaching its logical end. But fate once again, or the unseen hand, decided otherwise. The sheer magnitude of what was at stake was frightening and yet not accepting the challenge would have gone against everything we had stood for till then and negated the very spirit of project why.
To me project and planet why are intrinsically linked; the only difference being that the later has to have the ability of outlive me, and hence have foundations solid enough to weather any storm that may come its way.
everything is a great question…
“Creation is a manifestation of the one’s many ideas… every idea one step away from being alone… The meaning is for us to discover. Creation is only a stimulus. All we have to do is respond. And respond well. Everything is a great question waiting for a great answer.” Al Raines
These words dropped quietly into my inbox this morning. A quote from a just published book appropriately called Soul Search Engine. Prophetic words for one who spent the night searching for answers and wishing for sibylline insight.
Project Why has, over the past 8 years, sprung a string of questions needing answers and we have have to their best of our ability attempted to find the appropriate ones. Some have been easy, some more demanding and some even troubling. Yet each one has been portent of a stronger will, a greater manifestation, and each no matter how difficult or seemingly impossible has found a relevant answer.
The past weeks have been a roller coaster ride where dreams and reality have somehow taken a life of their own and left us all breathless and bewildered. We find ourselves with more than we visualised and planned. The foster care programme was not part of our original plans. And yet when it come our way we somehow knew it was to be. No matter how huge or daunting there was something compelling us to embrace it. It was a great question that required us to find a great answer.
From the instant we decided to once again walk the road less or actually never traveled, we have been faced with a deluge of adverse reactions, some biting , some more gentle; some steeped in cynicism, some simply seasoned with caution. This of course led us to try and assess the situation in the hope of discovering the true cause of such a backlash.
What we are trying to do is simply give a few children a chance to a better morrow. It was time to delve further and find out the reality. Somehow the situation was akin to the one I had faced many years ago when the apparently harmless work I was doing had led to a vicious attack from local powers that be. At first I had been perplexed and at a loss to explain matters. I was only attempting to educate slum children. I understood later that the real reason for the onslaught was that I had dared disturbed the existing social fabric and what was held against me was that I had empowered people particularly by giving teaching jobs to people who were meant to do menial ones.
Once again by giving hope to a few children of a Lesser God we were again guilty of the same deadly sin. One did not disturbed existing patterns. To have the audacity to do so was anathema to everyone. In a land where society has been divided in every which way possible, comfort zones have been created and we have all sunk into them, this is part of our atavistic fears. What is troubling is that this attitude is prevalent not only with the illiterate multitude, but even with the likes of us who are supposedly educated. There are things good for us, and things good for them. My child had the right to an IIT whereas their children can only reach the portals of a Polytechnic. What is even more disturbing is that in spite of the apparent economic and social growth of our land, the disparity between them and us has grown with quantum leaps, part of a tacit covenant.
Thus any attempt, no matter how tiny and infinitesimal at truly bridging the gap is bound to be met with strong resistance. Sadly few will have the honesty and courage to accept this fact and will find a host of reasons to explain their reticence: too much money spend for too few, money that could be used for a large number and so on. One will just have to find the right words to counter the attacks and maybe gently lead them to some honest soul searching.
That much for the biting and cynical detractors, but we also need to address the fears and apprehensions of the gentle critics urging us to caution. And I must confess that at the initial stages I was one of them. It is easy to help children the way we have done for years. Giving them a few hours of sound learning and happy moments and seeing them go back to their homes is a safe option. But when one takes the step of wrenching a child from one world and taking them to another, the equation changes. We are not talking of a few hours but of long years, each with its set of challenges. And even though we can sit and plan to the minutest detail, there is no guarantee that things will go our way. We may hope and think and pray that things go well, they may also go wrong and it is essential that we build safety nets at each step to counter them. What me must never forget is that each child that comes our way becomes our responsibility one that we have to fulfill all the way finding the best solution to every problem that may appear.
The easy way could be to once again find a via media, a solution that would assuage the situation and allow us to sink back in our comfort zones but can we actually do so now. It is once again a matter of some serious soul searching!
A blurb for project why
I was recently asked to write a blurb that would describe project why. I knew this was no mean task as in many ways pwhy defies all logic and all attempts at containing it within any limits are vain.
I did set about trying to find the few words that would at best describe who and what we are and was soon lost in the maze of all the things we have done in the past 8 years. Are we an education oriented organisation; but then why do we fix broken hearts. Are we a children’s organisation then why do we reach out to women? Are we based in Delhi, then why do we help children like the ones in this picture?
Risteh, Yogita and Rahul live in Rohtak. They are very bright kids and are doing extremely well in their studies. A few months back their father, a mechanic in an elecronic shop, suffered a major accident that left him incapacitated and hence he lost his work and the ability to earn again. He was the sole earner of he family. Their mother who is illiterate can barely bring food on the table. Their school fees were not paid. And they were on the verge of being thrown out. Their plight was brought to our notice quite back accident. Needless to say we decided to help them could we have done otherwise.
So coming back to trying to seek a set of parameters that would define project why should we say that we are an organisation that functions by accident and twists of fate. Not a very pretty picture ans certainly not one that would endear us to anyone. And yet is not true that it all began because of one day Manu came into our lives by accident..
I would rather think of these as a series of serendipities that are orchestrated by the ones that I like calling the God of Lesser Beings, the one to whom distraught mothers send desperate prayers and who works in his own ways.
So are we just an answer to prayers? I guess not as that would not explain planet why or the foster care programme as these emanate from our own desires and dreams. I guess I will one again have to go back to the Little Prince and the Fox and their secret and simply say:
Project why is where you see with your heart!
a unique haircut
Last Friday our very special friend Andy had a haircut. But this was no ordinary haircut. Everything about it was noteworthy. It brought together a wonderful human being from Seattle, a hearing impaired girl from a Delhi slum and a little cat who decided to grace the occasion with its presence. The location was no beauty salon or barber shop; it was the terrace of the pwhy building!
It all began in our special section with Andy tugging at his growing locks and someone suggesting he have a haircut. Rinky our resident beauty consultant who is not only a trained beautician and hair artist but has now almost one year of work experience immediately offered to do the needful. In our own inimitable yet eloquent sign language she offered to take him to her salon. However the suggestion was shot down as the said salon is for Ladies Only and Andy’s presence there would have been anathema!
After much deliberation a solution was found. The haircut would be done at pwhy itself and the terrace was the designated salon of the day. So come Friday our tiny terrace was converted into a barber shop and Andy got his haircut! For Rinky it was a very important and serious moment. It was the very first time she was cutting a man’s hair. But Rinky is one of a kind and she set out to accomplish her task with professional prowess and extreme composure and the result was quite stunning. Even the little cat was impressed.
It was yet another perfect moment; one that can only happen at pwhy!
citizen why
Citizen why is the name of a new blog created by our dear friend and supporter Andy. The base line of the blog says: A place for the people of Planet Why to share their stories.
I met Andy a few months back on the net, in one of those dark moments when one is desperately looking for help wondering how one would get through the night. Andy immediately offered to help, and as time went on I found myself sharing may of my dreams with him.
Andy was perhaps the first one who urged me to hold on to my dreams, particularly the one of seeing planet why become a reality and promised to help in any way possible. he even wrote: As things move forward on Planet Why I’d love to come and visit to help in person, if that would be alright.
True to his promise Andy came and is now an integral part of pwhy. When he suggested he start a blog where those who came to planet why could share their thoughts and stories, I was thrilled as I have always held that pwhy is what it is because of the spirit and love of all those who have come by and shared some time with us, all the precious Citizens of the incredible place that is planet why!
As I read the first posts on this new blog, I also realised what an invaluable mine of knowledge it would be for us, as we see pwhy through fresh eyes and become aware of things that we did not know and look at ourselves as others see us!
Thank you Andy!
karate kid
There are moments at pwhy which are incredible and moving. These are the moments that make you forget all the bad times, the struggle, the dejection, the angst that is part of any one engaged in the kind of work we do and these are the tiny cameos that make it all worthwhile.
Courtesy our dynamic volunteer Mathilde the special section of pwhy has been having weekly karate classes. As the class has children with are differently abled to use the politically correct word, they were divided into two groups. Preeti, our spirited polio affected 12 year old, who walks with the help of her hands, was relegated to group B as the class was going to concentrate on kicks and everyone felt that was something she would not be able to do.
The class started and everyone was busy kicking. A few minutes into rthe class and Mathilde felt someone tugging at her pants. It was Preeti who wanted her attention as she set about showing off her version of kicks: furious movements of her useless leg achieved with the help of her had!
Needless to say we all felt tiny and like heels. Mathilde stopped the class as place was made in the centre for Preeti who joined the class and proved to everyone present that she was as good of not better than all of them.
We had our new Karate Kid, one who called us back to order and ensured that we did not forget that if your spirit was in he right place nothing was impossible.
for a bag of chips
Sunday was truly staggering in more ways than one. On the way back from Utpal’s school I banged my head on the edge of the car door and it was a stunning blow. Somehow it was ominous in more ways than one.
As I lay down to catch a few minutes of respite I switched on the TV hoping it would provide the needed escape. It was a news channel and as usual the topic was the ongoing cricket controversies. I laid down with my eyes shut barely listening to the droning voice of the newsreader. The news item changed and I sat up in horror as the story of a seven year old being brutally beaten by a mob filled the air. My blood ran cold. The child, just a baby, was tied to a pole, trashed without mercy and stripped while the crowd jeered.
My thoughts went back to an incident that had occurred a few months back and that I had written about though sadly many had not understood why the plight of that woman had shaken me and disturbed me. An ugly spat had ensued on the comment box and that disturbed me to the the extent that I stopped writing about such issues.
Yet the sight of this child made me cringe and brought back all the repressed feelings. What have we become and I say we as can one afford the comfort of excluding one’s selves from the mob that carried out that abhorrent act? It is a reflection of the society we have become and a shame. How can anyone allow such a thing to happen; how can anyone watch a small child being subjected to such humiliation and pain and stand still? A seven year old is a baby, a tender being that needs protection, care and nurturing. Any child that age can err; what he needs is someone to show him right from wrong.
My thoughts went back to an incident that occurred many years back when we had just begun our work. Two small boys, about 6 or 7, where often jeered and threated as thieves. Their misdemeanor was to steal a few coins from the local temple. Both hailed from poor dysfunctional families, their mothers in the village and their fathers brutal drunks. They were sweet boys, one with a severe handicap. I sat down with them one day and asked them why they took money from the temple: they looked at me with broad smiles and answered in unison: to buy chocolates! I gave them some coins and asked them to go and buy the said chocolates and show it to me. They dashed off and came back with a tiny packet of corn puffs. That was what they called chocolate. I told them not to take money from the temple but to come to me whenever they wanted chocolate and I would give them the money to buy it. Unlike what many would have believed, they never came everyday, but sometimes when they felt like a bag of corn chips.
I wonder what the little 7 year old from a little village in Bengal wanted as he set about opening a tool box? Maybe just a small treat, something every child is entitled to. Was there no one in that jeering mob that could have reached out to the child and asked him why he was stealing? Was there any justification at all to beat the child, strip and humiliate him in public? What makes us behave ion such a repugnant manner? Where are all the values we love brandishing at the drop of a hat? I cannot begin to imagine what that little child must have felt for that interminable hour? Which God did he pray to? Was that God listening? I cannot begin to imagine what scars the child will carry for the rest of his life?
What gives us the right to act in such a way? I have no answers. I just hang my head in shame.
a staggering sunday
Normally the first Sundays of every month are special. This is the day when the motley crew that goes under the name of ‘Utpal’s parents’ sets out for the long drive to his school and spends time with him. Every month the set of parents is different – barring a few constants – and comes from all walks of life and the world over. This Sunday too his family extended from the US to India via Italy and France!
The day was to be special as we were also planning to visit our new plot of land. After a quick visit to the school we spent some time at the site and then set off to give Mr P his monthly treat. This time after much deliberation it was to be a new mall! After a long drive and a longer wait at the new toll highway we reached the said mall. It was a strange experience as we strolled along Kafkaesque corridors interspersed with newly opened stores.
At last we found a place to eat and later the children play area. The children had their fill of games but somehow the mood was not right as Utpal kept clutching to my hand and refusing to leave me though he had to go back to school in another car. He was unusually stubborn and would not listen to any coaxing. I sat with him on a bench trying to talk to him but to no avail. It was heart wrenching as he does not normally behave that way.
I did not want to leave him and could feel my eyes welling up with tears. He looked up and saw my face and sensing my pain he just walked away towards the waiting car, clutching the little bag filled with the goodies he had bought. I just watched him walk away, wondering what was going on in his little head and not finding the answers that would quieten my mind.
We drove back in silence. I had been deeply disturbed by Utpal’s behaviour and wondered what had caused it. What had he been trying to convey? Why was I not able to sense what ailed him?
A plethora of questions crowded my mind each needing an answer but none forthcoming. Some pertained to Utpal only but others took on a wider connotation and I thought of all the little ones who would soon be in our care, each one needing much more than one could even begin to anticipate.
As long as they were left in their world, however dark and abysmal, they were protected by the ways of that very world, but once you took them away things were bound to change. With each step they take on this new journey,will come new dreams, new hopes but also new pain, grief and hurt. As they reclaim their right to be children they will need the protection and care till now denied to them in their world where all one does is simply survive. And we as adults have to play by the rules.
Is that what Utpal was trying to tell me in his own way?
Tiny pioneers
When one embarks on a new journey one is always a little scared and a tad nervous particularly if one is an adult and the journey is somewhat uncharted. It is not so with children. For them everything new is a thrilling adventure be it a walk to the nearby park or cruise around the world.
This indubitable yet oft forgotten truth was brought to the fore as I watched three of the little pioneers of our foster care cum scholarship programme have their first ever class with Andy Bhaiyya. If one needed any reassurance about the worth of this programme, a single look at these children was ample proof that we were on the right track.
Just a week back these little souls lived their run-of-the-mill existence. A few hours at project why and then back to their tiny homes where life was not easy particularly in the bitter cold. For little Babli it was even worse as she went to a school where no teacher ever taught and her dreams of becoming a police seemed thwarted with obsessive regularity.
So when we decided to give her this chance she grabbed it with both hands and her eagerness to do everything well was palpable as she took on the role of the elder in the tiny group. And while we are still planning and fine tuning matters, our little pioneers are already on the way, their hunger for knowledge reflected in their eager looks and trusting eyes.
God bless them and walk with them…
a chilling wake up call
The tragic death of four tiny school children in Mumbai brings to fore once more the terrifying reality of the safety of our children and the alarming conditions prevailing in our cities. The illogical school system compels parents to send their wards to faraway schools. The absence of safe school transport forces then to take recourse to whatever is available and the greed of transporters on the look out for a quick buck makes the journey to school one fraught with danger. A vicious circle no one can truly break.
I have seen many children climb into potential death traps every morning as vans propelled y cooking gas cylinders abound in our city. Little Kiran is one of them. It is true that her family did try the school bus but the route was so long and the stop so far away from her home that they soon fell for the easier option: the school van! It fetched her from her door step and droped back home and was a tad cheaper too!
What alarms me is the way our education system is heading. A safe option is always a neighborhood school and that can only happen if and when the government school system is reinforced and becomes a viable option for a larger segment of society. But sadly it is quite the contrary that is happening as more and more parents are opting for the now mushrooming private schools. Somehow the fact that free education is a constitutional right seems to have been lost in translation.
How many more deaths will it take for us to finally wake up.