a survivor par excellence
Utpal is back home for his diwali break. I went to fetch him ins school and was amazed by the survivor spirit this child has. As the road was being dug up we had a long walk before reaching the gates of the school. En route I was stopped by many big boys who asked him “you have come for Utpal, he is a great kid”.
My heart filled with pride as I realised that this little fellow who had nothing but the god of little persons on his side, had set up his network in school, a network that transcended age, social divides and more. From the kind faced gateman to the dining room staff, to the remote class XII seniors notwithstanding the principal, the warden and the teachers, Utpal knows them all.
As we walked away we had to stop many a times as Utpal was hugged, taken in waiting arms, and patted on the back. We waited in the wings, sharing his much deserved moment of glory, our thoughts going back to the little bundle of pain that had walked into our hearts just 3 years back.
Yes he is a survivor and a perfect role model for us, as we battle our demons and try and keep pwhy going, as he proves that nothing in life is hopeless or doomed.
If we can do it, then we have to.
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A tale of two diwalis
To the rich man’s mall there is the poor man’s weekly bazaar. A cornucopia of sight, sound and smells, an experience guaranteed to titillate all your senses.
The dreary road comes alive one every week as people come from faraway places with their ware, tables are set, oil lamps lit and the stage is set. Soon the cries of the vendors fills the space as each try to get you to come to their stall. There is one such market very close to pwhy and you can find anything you want: clothes of all kind, school uniforms, shoes, kitchen ware, spices, toys, music, food of many kinds and much more. For many the budh bazaar is a lifeline, a place where for a few roupies you can treat your self to everything you can dream of.
These weekly bazaars have been in existence for as long as I can remember and one finds them everywhere in India. This week there was no budh bazaar, the vendors came and sat dolefully on their tables, some tried to set their goods but were brutally beaten by cops who even walked over their precious goods.
The reason: last years bomb attacks! And to make their task easy a decision to not let the bazaars operate. Imagine the plight of the vendors who often borrow at incredible interest rates to purchase the goods they will sell. And over and above all this week is the one where they sell the most as it is Diwali week. Think of the poor people who waited for this day to buy their children clothes at a rate they could afford: new clothes the children dreamt of, utensils for dhanteras when even the poorest of the poor buys something to please goddess Lakshmi.
Was there no way the police could have ensured security without hitting the poor. The malls are not closed and neither are the upmarket centres so why once again hit the poor who wait for Diwali for that one special moment.
These images disturbed me as they seem to vindicate the sad reality that the laws are not the same for everyone.
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a banker who sees with his heart
The last few weeks have been harrowing as one found one’s self in a soup for no fault of ours. A clerical error, a hurried decision and our bank closed our accounts.
It was a David takes on goliath situation but I was I knew the god of lesser ones was on our side. When the matter could not be resolved, I had no option but to write to the bigChief and felt like David. But then the god of lesser children was on our side and the banker was one that saw with his heart. Thirty six hours later, our accounts were restituted.
I just hope that one day he will come by planet why and meet all the children he helped and who would like to thank him in person.
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justice at last
The Priyadarshini Matoo case has come to an acceptable closure and maybe Priya’s soul will finally be able to rest in peace.
Eleven years or so to finally send the rapist and murderer behind bars. I cannot even being to fathom the agony of the last eleven minutes of Priya’s life as she lay fighting her last battle, the pain and courage of her father who never gave up while her killer lived on, got married and even had a child. Did he feel that his father’s position was enough to have him do what he pleased. No Sir. We live in a democracy that works and have a judicial system that is fair. We are protected by a constitution that guarantees us our human rights.
Maybe it takes a little longer than hoped but if like Priya’s father you do not give up, you do not heed threats and carry on your fight, you win no matter how small, unconnected and fragile you may look.
Will potential rapists now think twice before they commit their dastardly crime? Will those who thought that money, connections and power were sufficient licence to do as they please finally understand that they are not above the law? I hope so.
Priyadarshini’s case is the victory of the people of India, a force to reckon with, one that is slowly emerging from the dark.
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david takes on goliath
Never explain – your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe you anyway, said Elbert Hubbard. Maybe that is why a blog written a few days back has been lying unpublished. Each time, my finger wanders towards the publish button, something holds me back.
Wonder why. Is it because what has happened looks so terrible, because it holds within it so many assumptions each needing to be addressed and denied? I do not know.
Is it because a touch of that key will maybe alienate many forever and leave us rudderless, or is it because one is afraid of tarnishing one’s now glowing image needs?
Let me explain as best I can now that I can view things with a little distance and less anger and even some hum our. Let me start by a asking you a question: what would you do if one day for not fault of yours, without any prior information you received two envelopes with two drafts, no letter or explanation barring a mention of the counterfoil stating that your accounts stand closed?
After wondering for an instant who the generous donor was, I read the words with horror and felt my whole world crash as innumerable images rushed helter skelter in my tired brain. I am sure my head grew a few more white hairs!
To cut a long saga short let me just say that as an easy way out and after operating our accounts for two whole years and not finding any fault, a huge bank decided that we were non-grata and just threw us out without any professional ethics probably thinking that we were to small to react. Surprisingly the same giant sent us two letters dated later than the draft that asked for a certain papers and with no mention of the closure.
When we asked for a reason and explanation and at least for a letter to the authorities stating the reason for such action, we just got wishy washy replies and a vague reference to Bombay being the ultimate authority.
Had this been a personal account of even a business one, I may have thought twice before taking Goliath but 600 pair of eyes was all that was needed to realise that at least the God of Lessor children was with me. So knowing that had done no wrong I wrote a letter to Bombay which had been held to me as the ultimate Goliath!
An answer came and then phone calls and vague explanations. The battle is still on and though I want no one hurt I still want to know why I was treated this way and above all a way to redress the tort.
The battle is on and I will no rest till it is won. However if I stand by what I was taught as a little girl my a doting father: always look for the larger picture, maybe there is a lesson to be learnt: work like ours will only succeed when the basic support comes from within. So no matter how things end, one has to work towards the elusive one rupee option as all other solutions, no matter how easy and comfortable, are fragile and finite.
True one will have to deal with the there is no smoke.. types, they always lurk around as it would give them the awaited opportunity to slime out of commitments. One will also have to explain and vindicate one’s self and the trust painfully and patiently gained over seven long years
Yes one will have to pick up the pieces carefully and gently, and weave them together again with the hope that no cracks remain. And yet there is another lesson to be learnt, one that corroborates my almost intuitive vision when I wrote the first official document for pwhy, one that highlights the vulnerability of any developmental work that depends on outside support: true success lies in one’s ability to build a support system within the group one works with. One that is so small that it escapes all possible attacks, and yet powerful enough to grow by the day.
I just hope that those who stood by us will continue to do so.
Note: For those who are curious the problem seems to have arisen from the fact that someone forgot to look at all the documents filed and took a hasty Poncus Pilate way out.
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nursery blues
If all goes well tiny tots in Delhi will not have to face the dreaded interview to get admission in a school. However the procedure suggested seems rather complex. Whereas the 20 points given to proximity is a great one as it maybe be the harbinger of the still elusive common school, the 20 marks reserved for the education of the parents seems to deal a blow on those who may want a better tomorrow for their kids. Even if their relentless hard work can meet the fees, they cannot reinvent themselves.
I wonder how transparent this system is going to be, and how it will actually work on the ground. It is sad that one has become so used to people circumventing the system in today’s India, that even before a new system has been set in place, one is looking for the loopholes and ways to beat it.
However for those who love kids, it is a huge relief to see that they will not be subjected to grueling preparations at an age when all they should be doing is discovering themselves and the world.
In a country where education is a constitutional right, every child should have a place in a good school. Whopping amounts are spent on universilisation of education, but the ground reality is abysmal. Even in the country’s capital city schools lack basic amenities like toilets, drinking water and sometime even a roof. If state run schools were improved then many parents would find it a good option for their children as a simple perusal of the city’s map shows that every locality has a school at walking distance.
Long and dangerous journeys in badly driven vehicles is not what any parent wants for his child, but the social mores renders the government school infra dig. Like many things in India, the solution lies in a reversal of the present way but no one is listening, or rather no one wants to.
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the little house of horrors
I have been battling many demons and what now looks like trivial problems, when my good friend mr god decided to call me to order in his inimitable way.
We had been invited to talk about pwhy at a expat gathering when another ‘project’ was also presented by some of the ladies themselves. I must confess that at first we were a little put off as it seemed we were losing a bit of the limelight. How was I to know that it was mr god at work!
As the project was introduced and images flashed on the white wall my hackles stood up. And as one image followed the other I knew that this our presence their was for a reason.
The project is question as an orphanage for little girls an hour’s drive away. And as the lady shared what she had seen I knew that I was looking at something that was evil.
The worst was the plight of 15 little disabled girl who lay in their dirt with no one to look after them. As the last slide was projected I found myself looking for the lady who seemed to be the one in charge and offered our help. She gave me the name of a person who turned out to be a kind hearted well wisher and he asked us to come as soon as we could.
The place turned out to be a house of horrors: over 50 girls and 15 disabled girls between the age of 2 and 15 lived live without any one to look after them, not a single woman is there to care for them. The place is filthy and foul smelling, children are not bathed, their clothes ripped and some do not have wear undergarments. There seems to be regular physical abuse and god knows what else. The swami in question does not seem to believe in education and the children never go out.
What was the most disturbing thing was the fact that this operation has been going on for 30 years yet no girl was over 15! Where are the missing girls, and above all who are these girls?
My mind traveled back to the days when I first met Manu but somehow this sight was far more disturbing. I still do not know how the little girls are going to be saved, but saved they have to be. Every extra hour the children have to be spend in this house of horrors weigh heavily on my conscience..
We need to act!
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r.i.p jatinder
A young class IX student, just 14 years old killed himself… the reason being his public humiliation by the principal.. the reason for that being his delay in paying his fees. Jatinder was the son of a driver who had dared dream huge dreams for his son and enrolled him in this school.
Public humiliation in front of his peers, and inability to sit for his half yearly examinations were too much for this child. He simply put an end to his life. Adults often fail to realise how fragile children’s egos are and they revel in flinging unkind words not realising the damage they can have.
One of the reasons project why began its curriculum support programme stemmed out of a public humiliation. It was in a principal’s office that 6 class X boys were dismissed as useless gutter filth and sure failures in front of me. I saw how they cringed and shrunk and had I not been there to pick up the pieces I wonder what would have happened to them. To salvage their hurt egos I told the principal that they would clear their Boards. A challenge immediately accepted by my lads whose body language changed in an instant. The said Boards were a mere 2 months away, their classroom the roadside in the bitter December cold, their class hour: 7 am. But they came and gave their best and all cleared their examinations. Some of the boys are today in college, others working, one has even bough a car!
When young Rani who now is one of the pillars of project why was beaten in public for being two days late with her school fees and subsequently fainted, her illiterate but sensible mom stepped him and took the only decision she thought right: withdrawing her child from school. Today Rani has cleared her XII Boards while working with us and taking on challenge after challenge.
Jatinder had no one to pick op the pieces of his hurt ego and probably felt that he had no other way but killing himself. probably he did not even realise that his death would have the aftermath we are seeing. He just could not walk back into his world both at school and at home with his head high.
Often adults take insensitive decisions without thinking of the terrible consequences they can lead to. My heart goes out to Jatinder who many may forget after a few days. I juts hope and pray that his death will not go waste and that over and above the arrest of those guilty, some laws will be made to deal with such matters to ensure that no child has to take his life again.
may he rest in peace!
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Leader of the pack..
Some of you may remember the incident when cupid was responsible for the breaking of a wall at our Okhla centre. The wall was repaired by the very boys who broke it.
But the matter did not rest there. The words of the fat man were still buzzing in my head. Today I finally met all the boys in question. Actually I first saw them peeping from a tiny hole in the tent, as the children danced merrily. You could almost feel that somewhere those boys everyone had given up on, were longing to be part of the fun.
I slid out quietly and went to where they were calling out for aiyya, as he, I was told, was a leader. A nice kid, with a broad smile jumped down and introduced himself as aiyya, a little perplexed he stood in front of me like a little boy caught on the wrong foot. I felt immense tenderness for this child that unknown circumstances had branded a goonda.
I told him how glad I was to meet him and wondered if there was something I could do for him. English, he said, I want to learn English and computers. Consider it done, but you have to look after the safety of the computers and this school, was my reply. We chatted for a while and I told him that the fat man had warned me about him being dangerous, but added that to me he was a child in need of love. And that very moment a well meaning but insensitive man told me to ask them why they had not studied when their parents told them to?
I shut him up by telling him that what was past was past, and that today was another day and a first step to any dream. We talked for a long time about many things and the boys just stood there and listened.
An extreme sadness filled me as I watched this young men who could have been so many things had we adults played our parts correctly; had the powers that be given them everything that was rightfully theirs, had vile people not used their tender minds to fulfill hidden agendas, had someone been there the first time they made a mistake to gently set them back on course, had someone been there just to tell them they were the best..
So many questions that will remain unanswered, so much hurt to heal, so much time to make up for.
As I left, I realised that I had been made leader of the pack, a huge responsibility if at least I had the courage not to let them down.
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feudal lord to babulord
Five years ago, when I first heard of the local money lender and his alarming interest rate of 120%, I could have never imagined that the day would dawn when I found him almost ‘likeable’.
I have often held that my years discovering the India of urban slums has been a huge lesson in life, where many of my set ideas were not only questioned but sometimes even reversed.
My first encounter with our moneylender’s ways was when I realised that he not only lent at 120%, but sent his goons to collect his monthly pound of flesh on each payday without fail. I was appalled and set out explaining to people that this was illegal and that there were institutions that lent money at sensible rates. Of course at that time I did not realise that poor slum people could never walk into a bank, let alone apply for anything.
The years went by and so did the moneylender and his ways. I often heard about his having given the few paltry rupees in the dead of night when someone’s misguided child had been taken by the cops, or his having disbursed the needed money to buy eats for a visiting marriage party.
Whenever we could, we used to help people in need, but never had sufficient funds to do so on a sustained basis. I often wondered why this seemingly absurd system did not stop and kept thinking of alternatives.
Last month one of my team members told me he had applied for a loan from a known bank and the interest rate was 2%. seemed fair to me who does not have a head for financial affairs. After much form filling, telephone checking and too’s and fro’s, he was given 25 K or so for a 30 K loan.
I then ventured to ask Amit to find out what all this actually meant. To cut a matter short, our colleague who is barely literate had signed on a paper that would make him pay almost 55 K for his 30 K amount, and for an insurance policy of 3 K per year, something he had not wanted. The financing in the name of a leading bank was one of those agarwal sweet kind of things where leading companies give their name to middle men.
It was another transition from feudal lord to babulord. From human money lender to institutionalised money lender. I did start by saying that to me the former seemed more likeable. Well let me tell you why. Our local money l;ender at his astronomical lending rate hounds you mercilessly for year one, then a little less harshly in year 2, and normally lets people go in year 3 as he has recovered more than enough. The bank will drag you to court and hound you till kingdom come. With the former it is a clear and well understood operation, the later is full of hidden traps that simple and illiterate people fall for.
Wonder where the solution lies
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making memories..
I have been busy making memories for Utpal. You may wonder why. When I look back at the past six years, the one success story that I would like remembered is that of this little braveheart.
I sometimes wonder what could have happened if pwhy had not been around for this child. The worst case scenario: he would have died. At best he would have survived with deep scars on both body and mind. His drunk parents may or may not have sent him to school as fees money often feeds bad habits. And maybe one day someone would have realised that his scarred body could be used to arouse pity and hence get few pennies.
Utpal who as I write these words is somewhere in my home playing, is now in a boarding school and in two tiny months he has been transformed. one year down the line he will speak English and a few years down the line may top his class and then who knows.
His mom is in her fifth month of recovery, his sister safe in a residential programme and maybe one day we will help them rebuild a real home. the father or what goes by that name still drinks and lurks hoping to get some money from us.
Utpal’s story is what in my mind is a miracle and would make the worst cynic believe in something larger than life.
there are many disturbing questions that will come in his little mind as he grows and I have been busy making memories for him as I may not be there to fill in the blanks and tell him the truth. And as I set down putting those memories together I found myself setting out on a new journey, one where I traveled inwards trying to make sense of life itself by seeking life’s bare bones and trying to extract in Rabelaisian words “its substantific marrow”. And in doing so I stumbled on a world replete with simple things that transcend space and time making you fall in love one last time with life itself. I called it the wisdom of twilight years.
This little book is called “dear Popples.. with love Maam’ji” will stand in for all the memories that Utpal may need when he is a big man.
My dream is to see it published, otherwise it will be placed next to my Will, quietly waiting for its rightful owner.
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where angels do not fear to tread
When I was a little girl and something I could not comprehend or did not like happened, my father would always talk of the larger picture, the one only God could see and tell me that we only saw a tiny part of it and therefore could not understand its relevance. I must confess that at that time And it took care of the pain, I guess it had a lot to do with the way he said it!
Later I must confess it is a trick I often used to deal with many problems I encountered. But there were times when things were so bad that the big picture explanation was not sufficient. One of the tings I have always found very hard to accept is the incomprehensible pain that one sees inflicted on children, and least of all their untimely death.
Today we had the visit of two lovely people Jean Bernard and Marie who set up a trust in the memory of Leila Fodil a little 3 year old who came to them with advanced blood cancer and who lived in their home till the illness took her two years down the line.
As we were walking back from one project site it struck me that children like Leila or our very own Utpal come to earth as part of the larger picture, to fulfill some wondrous plan that Mister God had. Leila’s brief and agonising little tryst with life and Utpal’s traumatic survival have been the cause for so much good, so many people who should have never met have actually bonded to reach out to many little souls in need of help.Call them angels or old souls, they are blessed as they come for a purpose that we cannot at first see but that slowly unfolds itself and leaves even the most cynical believing in something greater…
Looking back at the seven years project why has been in existence, I can say with some conviction and pride that it is a place where angel do not fear to tread.
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Do we need to change horses..
The Okhla saga ended well.. the young lads who had broken the wall repaired it after hearing our healing touch pitch.. In the ultimate analysis everyone can be saved, or at least one can try and plant a seed and hope that some day it will germinate..
The two kids in the picture -Raju and Rakhi – are busy emulating their Bollywood heroes to impress their little audience. it is a very serious affair. But both these kinds have all the chances to grow into what we call bad elements: Raju does not have a dad and his mom just manages to keep things going, and Rakhi’s dad has already been to prison and lives on the edge..
So the wall breaking incident could very well be repeated in the future where one would be the lady love and the other the forlorn and rejected admirer..
I have been disturbed recently by the course we have taken at pwhy and have been feeling that our set of horses are tired and need to be changed. The many perturbing occurrences in the recent past that seem to aggravate schisms in our society need to be looked at seriously. Our experience in okhla has shown us that many dangers lurk around a growing urban child. Just teaching them the normal 3 Rs will not get them anywhere. We have to combat the divisive forces at the grassroots. Children have to be made conscious of their role in civic society, of their democratic rights, of the tools they have to combat problems (RTI) and of the dangers of alcohol and drugs.
My encounter with the gang boss was perturbing. In a flash we recognised ourselves as enemies and as he carried on telling me how bad the young lads were I insisted on saying that every child could be saved. Today everyone is talking of Gandhigiri versus Dadagiri being un uneven battle as the later has no principles, no scruples and no values.
Two roads are left to walk: the former is the one that was depicted in the reaction of one of our upmarket volunteers as she heard of the incidents and said: You must find a safer place; the later is that of digging your heels and try and beat the system by using it to your advantage.
Okhla has two small time Dons, one is the one that cross swords me, the other is a young spirited woman who has now become a friend, and who will ultimately help me in my battle.
Strange that I made my will just this week..
I am ready for battle. It is for the children and therefore for the future
all is fair in love….
On my mission to find out why the brand new wall of our school had been broken, I could not have imagined in my wildest dream that the main culprit was Cupid!
Apparently one of the young gang leaders of the are – and there quite a few – was romantically inclined towards one of our students. When she told him that he was not up to the mark, her yardstick being pwhy teachers, the young lad say red. At night he tried to break the wall of the school alone, but when he could not, he gathered 5 pals and they set out to the task of destroying the quite solid brick wall. I presume they were aided by Bacchus too!
On the flip side, the young man in question, was responsible enough to own his action, and in doing so he gathered a few plus points from me.
But it does not stop here, when I went to find out what happened I found myself once again faced with the puzzle that is India. Another student of ours had been beaten by the same band of boys. As I tried to find someone to go and fetch the ‘culprit’, a fat man that oozed bad vibes came and stood in front of me stating loudly that the boy was a very bad element and that nothing could change him, he was scum of the earth. And as his diatribe grew longer and louder, I knew that there was more than met the eye. After handing him a few no child is hopeless and everyone is born the same way, I set out to find more.
I was not surprised to learn that he was the one who first got the boys into drinking and using and then made them do petty crimes. The student who had been beaten had refused to drink!
I am sure that the vile man is working for some politico who works for a bigger wish carefully nurturing the needed brute force to meet their agendas. As I left I was more and more determined to get the boys in my fold and have been trying to find ways, even if the first one that comes to my mind is that rather than break a wall to impress a lady, maybe studying would work better.
I forgot to mention that as I was leaving I witnessed the arrival of the local leaders all offering unsolicited help that of course my staff was politely refusing.
Sometimes everything looks so forlorn, why is it that I always see a ray of hope.
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I wonder why…
Our refurbished school that sits on a garbage dump in Okhla is by no means a fancy one. Plastic sheets, a tarpaulin cover and a halfway brick wall is all it is. But to us it is a place where many children learn and are able stay in school, it is also an option for kids the other being petty robbery and even drug pushing.
I had thought that finally people around had understood that we meant no harm were, not land grabbers and hoped that the initial reticence was now a thing of the past.
This morning the teachers found that a wall had been broken at night. I find it hard to explain such an absurd action. What would instigate someone to break a pathetic looking structure that has never hurt anyone. For me the pain is deeper as I realise that maybe the adversary is too big, to strong and too unprincipled for an even fight.
What stops me in my thought is that ultimately it is children who once again are the soft target that everyone is willing to trample on. If I give up I will once again hurt kids.
I know I will carry on, but I also know that every act of this kind takes its toll on my very spirit.
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fun funding frolic
I have been thinking for the past few days of drafting my Dear A.. letter whereby I will seek help at ‘this festival time‘ etc…
Over the years my contacts list has been growing and what was an easily done task a few months back seems daunting when you see over 800 ids on your list and as I have always written each individually..
So as I sat exercising my writs and my back and gathering the courage to begin, pat dropped a mail from abhi stating that she had launched another contest to garner funds for us pwhy. Then came another mail that said that a Diwali Charity Contest had named us as beneficiary..
I guess we have crossed an important milestone as on the one hand the attacks against us are growing in quantum leaps, and on the other hand many now remember us at festival time without our usual appeals.
I have always held that trustworthy development programmes have to be self-funded if they are to remain independent of outside meddling. I still hold on to my ultimate objective of seeing the beneficiary community taking on part of the responsibility.
Initiatives like abhi’s are a great way of pitching in till we fly on our own wings. maybe our blogger friends could come up with new ways that could be creative, fun and at the same time rewarding.
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strange encounters of a kind
Funny how things happen in life. I had two encounters today one with a European houseguest on a bharat darshan, and the other with a friend of a friend who dropped by.
The reason for this blog was that they both had similar views about the reality we live in. My European guest hold quite a cynical view of life and seems to see sinister plans in everything around be it in India or elsewhere. he feels that people like us are doomed to failure as there is no hope at all. His solution is to mark time and accept the inevitable.
The other person a well educated lady, once a teacher was so dejected by watch she saw and experienced that she gave it all up, seeking greener pastures without much success. Now I must say that both have sufficient resources to check themselves out and live on the fringe of reality, quite comfortably traveling to their hearts’ content.
What disturbed me is that they all have the ability and the means to be agent of change but opt no to. I am not one to sit in judgment. And though one may have thought that I would be deterred in my ways, quite the contrary happened. I still believe that changing one life is worth it.
What has fueled sinister programmes or abysmal conditions is probably the fact that those who can say or do something prefer to shut their eyes and look away making the adversary bolder.
In a few days we will be celebrating Gandhi’s birthday. The TV channels are replete with programmes about his relevance today in the wake of the new Munna Bhai film. Maybe this Gandhi Jayanti one should just ponder about the man we call Father of our Nation and look at his way of dealing with the problems he encountered and one would realise that no matter how sinister the plot, there is a absurdly simple way of wearing the adversary down, if one has the courage to assume responsibility for what ails us.
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tiny people with huge hearts
At a time when much seemed dark, a ray of sunshine was brought by little children who decided that they would be better than big people and help their friends who are not so lucky.
These kids belong to countries as far from each other as France and Singapore but be it Maxence, Natasha or Haimuel.
When Maxence saw the Okhla centre sitting in a garbage dump he did not have the kind of reactions that adults have, he did not smother us with meaningless words, he just looked with his heart and made a decision that he did not even disclose then. he went home, fished out an old detergent box asked his mom to print out some pics from the pwhy site and made a donation box where he asked his pals to put in the money they would have spend on buying him birthday gifts.
Last week he came clutching his little box that had a fair amount of roupies! That money is priceless as it is steeped in so much love.
Natasha and Haimuel, 9 and 7 respectively decided to forego their pocket money simply after reading about us. Another bunch of kids from the French school collected funds in the same way and today Okhla has a tent thanks to them.
What is it that makes little act in this way? I do not know but I hope that one day the children of my land will do the same
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all about symbols
We have just finished the shradhs or days that have been allotted to our departed souls. Every faith has such days, for some it is a single day for India it is two weeks.
To me these days mean much more than the sated gesture of feeding the poor. It is a time for introspection within yourself, a time when as no festivity is permitted, you are compelled to assess things and thus is also a time for closures of what did not quite work right, be it a relationship or a work situation.
It is also a time for healing, what cannot be changed, and accepting things that you have not been able to. For me it was a temporary checking out to assess what I had been able to do. Everyone of us does his or her best. True we win some, lose some and play our roles in the best way possible of getting our share of catcalls and kudos.
When you reach your twilight years, somehow you become a little more compassionate and a little less censorious and can look at things better. And you are surprised to see that what emerges of your soul searching is often absurdly simple. I took time off to write a series of letters to Popples that turned out to be a life credo that sums up much of what I have learnt.
It was also when a series of extraneous circumstances led me to compel my team to assess the value of what they were doing and to take measures to give it durability in time, or if not to have the courage to sign its closure.
I will get my answers soon and it will be a new beginning. But what is important is that this time it will be seeded in solid soil and hence will have the ability to withstand the blows that may come its way.
Ps: in case anyone is interested in reading the letters, pls mail at anouradha.bakshi@gmail.com
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a burning issue
The airing of video images of AIIMS student’s burning Dr Ambedkar’s books sent a chill down my spine. Images of a doom-laden future flashed by my mind.
The reservation issue is going out of hand and unless it is addressed by non-political citizens our land may become unsafe. I would like to ask the students who committed this horrendous act whether they remember Dr Ambedkar has being the main author of the very constitution that allows them to express themselves, albeit negatively. I would like to ask the pro reservation students whether they realise that no child asks to be born in a particular family? Can I ask them to remember that all Indian children are born in the same way, after a gestation of nine months and are protected by the same laws? And finally can I ask them where this hatred will lead in an already electrically polarised society.
I have seen that a mere fight between two ladies over the issue of a petticoat to dry turned into a caste riot in seven minutes. Is not the duty of educated and supposedly high caste students to heal rather than aggravate. Can I also ask the students to look at their other caste peers with their heart and not with borrowed vision and find if there is anything to hate. Or in a gandhian way can I ask these angry children of India to take one tiny dalit baby and give him or her the same childhood and teen years as they had and then to see whether they are still worthy of hate.
My mind boggles at all the questions that are choking me. I am neither pro nor anti reservation. I just want every child to be given the same opportunities and then find his or her place in the sun.
is that asking too much?
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