The mail simply said: iCONGO Team Congratulates you on your selection for the Karmaveer Puraskaar. I was stunned. A few months back a dear friend and supporter had written to me saying she was nominating me for this award. I was touched by her gesture and though I was quite certain I would not make it, I duly and diligently filled the form as required and sent it in. I thought that was the last I would hear about it and went on with my life. That was about two months ago. I must admit though that I did browse the net to find out a little more about this award, I guess it was but human that I do so. This what i found: Karamveer Puruskar: National Awards for Social Justice & Citizen Action are being commissioned to recognise individuals who have been pivotal for leading change beyond their business as usual by being committed on individual levels to work on social issues. The awards shall be given to individual for their contribution to promote social justice and action. As I read the words and perused the list of past recipients I smiled to myself: this was way out of my league. What was my friend thinking of.

Imagine my surprise when the mail informing me of my selection landed in my inbox. I fell of my chair. Why me? What I had done to deserve tis recognition? I had simply done and was doing what I truly feel everyone of us should do: give back a little of what life has generously bestowed upon you.

I would not have written this post were it not for another mail that stated: In your individual interest, you may go ahead and have your office issue a press release and announce your award in the media and on your blogs, websites, facebook, twitter and other networks. I have no office that can issue statements and pres releases, I can only blog about it myself and hope that my readers will forgive this unusual personal digression.

My selection for this award is humbling and overwhelming. It is an honour and makes one even more aware of how much more remains to be done and how little one has really achieved. It makes you realise that the journey is no way near over. The onus of proving that you are worthy still lies on you.

It has been an incredible journey. One that was started with the simple unsaid words: If I can change one life, it will have been worth it. I can say that in the past 10 years many lives have changed and that in itself is a huge reward. Getting this recognition leaves me speechless. All I know is that it could not have been possible without the help and support of so many, and it is their award more than mine.

Thank you!

I cannot believe it. This is my 1000th blog! It took me four years and six months to get here. I took a trip down memory line and read some of my earlier posts. Their candour and naiveness brought a smile to my face. I must admit that taking the plunge was not easy and writing that first blog was a herculean task. I stopped at one of my earliest blog to take stock of the time gone by. The little boy who was then fighting for his life is today a little young man who lives in a boarding school and tops his class. He has indeed lived through many trials and tribulations and yet proved beyond doubt that life is worth living and fighting for.

During the past four and a half years I have written about the joys and the achievements, the failures and the defeats. I have blogged about issues that disturbed me and those that elated me. I have shared tiny moments of happiness and larger moments of frustration. I have poured my heart out time and again and been touched by the support and encouragements I have received. I have wept tears of joy as well as tears of exasperation. I have shared times when my heart filled with pride and also with despair. I have talked of my dreams, the fulfilled as well as the broken ones. I have pontificated and preached and sometimes surrendered.

For the past four and a half years this blog has been my true companion, the one that has made the journey possible and fulfilling. The canvas has of course been project why but I have allowed myself the liberty for small forays into my own life be it share a wedding or a new arrival.

The past four and a half years have truly been exhilarating! And these 100o blogs bear testimony to an incredible journey that I am privileged to be part of.

There is a new reality show in town. I read about it quite by accident in a leading news paper.The show website defines the show in the following way: Prepare yourself to witness a life-changing experience, as 10 seriously rich spoilt youngsters are plucked from their lavish lifestyles and dropped into the claustrophobic confines of a Mumbai slum… with cameras focused on their every move 24 hours a day! The rich contestants are paired with a slum buddy who guides them through the pitfalls and opportunities within the slum. Each week the contestants have to complete a task – the teams that perform the worst face the possibility of elimination from the show. Up for grabs is the big prize – the chance for the rich contestant to help fulfill their slum buddy’s dream.

The whole idea is perplexing. It sort of falls short of something and leaves me uncomfortable. The tasks that the contestant are expected to perform are push a cart across the street, sell trinkets, polish shoes, pick rags, wash clothes etc. While the show is being canned it is being visited by a string of celebs, all adding their glam quotient. The rick kids are expected to live in a slum for 14 days and the one who stays on the longest and manages all tasks earn a whopping amount to fulfill the dream of the slum buddy her or she is paired with.

On the surface the show seems to be worthy and even honourable. The contestant earn nothing, the celebs are coming for free and the winner is a slum kid who sees his or her dream fulfilled. But the more I look at the site and articles the more uncomfortable I feel.

For the slum kids it is a string of dreams come true: being on a TV show, meeting Bollywood celebrities, and perhaps getting a lot of money to fulfill some unfulfilled desire. Their excitement is almost palpable as they embark on a journey that can be life changing. Their thrill is touching as each plans a new morrow.

It is the coming together of the two Indias and I for one should be thrilled. Is it not what I have always wanted. Am I not the one who carps about the fact that we see too few volunteers from the rich end our own city at project why. And yet all this done been done in the public glare makes me thoroughly uneasy. An article states that the inspiration of the show is Slumdog Millionaire. I have shared my views on the film more than once. I have felt riled at the way the SM children were used by all and sundry. I would have preferred to see them safely locked in a good boarding school so that they could one day transform their lives. This show somehow seems to rob slum lives of their reality and turn them into some sort of joke. The kids are meant to live in a created slum and not truly share the lives of their buddies. Would have like to see that happen! A set a la Big Boss has been created with mosquitoes et al. The tasks seem more like fun challenges rather than real survival situations. A person who sells ware at a red light does it to survive. If he does not make it there may be no food at night. Pushing a cart is harrowing and back breaking and not fun. The same goes for polishing shoes or washing clothes.

As I said I would have liked the show to have each contestant live for 14 days in the home of his or her buddy and experience the life of many millions. This pasty slum experience is all wrong. Life in a slum is filled with dignity and courage, values that are strangely absent in this show. Choices are few and needs many. Try coming to work every day in spotless clothes when you live on the roadside like the Lohars do. I see it everyday. Try surviving with brittle bone disease in a hole and never loose your smile even if you loose your flimsy shelter and land on the street. Slumming it out in a created set is an insult to all those who dwell in slums.

Of the 10 slum kids, one will have his or her dream come true and the others will go back to their lives with a starry story to tell. Where are we going….

They are our special girls! Champa, Anjali, Preeti, Ritika and Neha. When together they can bring the roof down! They love dancing, singing and giggling like any teenager, and like any teenager they sometimes sulk and fight.

Champa and Anjali live in our residential programme. Anjali is an orphan and Champa’s mom is too old to look after this very special child. Preeti who is as bright as any of us was struck by polio at a young age and walks on her hand. Her muscles are so atrophied and would not be able to hold calipers. If inclusive education existed in India, Preeti would have been in school like other girls her age and led as normal a life as possible. Instead she is shunned by her own family who find her an impediment. During the recent festivals she was left all alone at home while her family went out to temples and fairs. Anjali walks with a limp and is a little slow, but she too could and should have been in a normal school, but that was not to be. She lost her mother a few months back and was left all alone in an unsafe environment with predators lurking. Champa is perhaps the most disabled of all. Though she can belt one Bollywood hit after the other she is unable to even dress herself. She is so childlike that anyone could lure her with a simple toffee.

What is the future of such girls. Bleak is anything. And yet when you seem them together you get touched by their zest for life and their joie de vivre. It is for these very special girls and others like them that we felt the need to go beyond our initial mission – education of children – and think of a viable alternative: a place where such young ladies could live their entire lives in a safe and enabling environment. That is how planet why first came to be conceived. A simple residential option was not sufficient. We wanted to give our girls a reason to live, a place where they would feel useful and wanted. Hence planet why the guest house!

I can imagine my girls thriving on planet why. Young Preeti has all it takes to become the manager of the guest house and Anjali could become a great housekeeper. And in spite of her shortcomings and limited skills Champa would also find her place in the show. The journey that has barely begun, promises to be exciting and we hope to be able to reach our destination in a not so distant future. So help us God!

I had written about my apprehension about the scrapping of Boards and marks and switching to grades in a recent blog. Recent news items about the modus operandi have made me even more uncomfortable. Eight hours training sessions are being planned for principals who, in turn will need to train their respective teachers. The rush in getting it all done is nothing short of frightening.

My fear was validated by a mail sent by a volunteer who had come to project why some time back. He writes: the removal of the class X board exams is something close to my heart, so I thought I’d share my thoughts on the issue.

I am not exactly sure how high the stakes of class X board exams are for a child in India. However, I know that scrapping summative assessments in such a brute and unmitigated fashion and replacing it with what we call ‘formative/ continous assessment’ in education studies is a very very dangerous move. While it is true that formative assessment is becoming increasingly popular globally, in places like Hong Kong and Singapore, the changes are gradual, often incorporating a part of school-based formative assessment (abt 30%) with nation-wide high-stakes exams.

Such changes have to be carefully steered with good frameworks and appraisal rubrics, meticulous curriculum planning, adequate teacher training and the support of academic research institutions. I cannot imagine how things will turn out when India has not even resolved the intricate pitfalls that together contribute to a flawed school system. How are teachers going to be able to assess students in a long-term, formative fashion when many go awol ever so often? Added to the issues you raised in your blog posts about the inequality of opportunities arising from differences in socio-economic status, I really worry for all the children from the lower spectrum of the social ladder.

It is believed that the new assessment will cover a student’s for scholastic (curriculum-based) and co-scholastic skills including life skills, attitudes, physical and health-related merits. It is sadly obvious that such system will broaden the gap between children of the two Indias, children from better homes are bound to have better co-scholastic skills. The marks system at least gave the less privileged a chance to compete with their privileged peers. Once again our law makers have widened an already gaping divide. Kids from better homes will have a huge advantage. That is only one side of the problem.

Let us look at the other. Grades will be awarded by teachers who till now have been awarding marks. A simple eight hours training is all that is been given to change mindsets and old ways. How can one be taught to assess skills and attitudes when one has never done so. I cannot even begin to imagine how this will happen. Maybe the teachers of swanky public schools will pass the test but what about the others. Advantage the privileged child!

Then there is a third player in all this: the parent! I know how many hours I have spent helping my children in their project and assignments. I wonder how a poor harried, illiterate mother is expected to conjure the skills and find the time to do the same. Once again advantage the privileged child.

Then how will the slum kid be able to run this race at par.

Changes and plans that concern children should never be undertaken to meet some political agenda or to seek instant gratification. They need to be tackled with care and understanding. An idea may look good and even be path breaking. However what is important is the implementation and enactment. If not done properly it can boomerang. One has to tread with caution in any situation where children are involved. Hope our law makers realise that!

About a year ago a young teenager came with her parents to spend a few days at project why. Harriet is no ordinary girl. She has mastered the art of seeing with her heart and that is how she looked at project why. Since then she has never forgotten us and has conjured many a miracle for us.

Yesterday we were treated to one more such miracle. She simply wrote: Thought I would let you know that the cakes sale went really well yesterday. We raised £55. I would have said there were over a 100 cakes and all of them sold within 10 minutes! I have enclosed a picture of me and 2 friends if you would like to see it (both friends made cakes that they brought in.) I have just totalled up our collection of spare change that we have been saving since Christmas it came to £30 exactly!

To the day cynical or uninitiated this may look paltry. But to me these figures are inestimable. Let me tell you why. Fundings come in diverse ways. The normal one is to apply for large impersonal grants, fill innumerable forms and hope for the best. In such cases there are no bonds, no feelings, no seeing with the heart nonsense. The other one is to try and touch someone’s heart. And then sit back and watch miracles play out. This is what has happened with Harriet and project why.

Every penny that drops our way is blessed as it is imbibed with love. And in hindsight this is what matters as it gives the whole funding process a new meaning altogether. There is something touching about young school girls in an alien land finding time from their busy schedule to bake cakes and then market them for a cause dear to one of their friends. And we feel humbled.

Harriet and her friends are very special young ladies. God bless them always.

It is Diwali the festival of lights and new beginnings. Diwali is also the time when all, rich and poor buy new clothes at least for their children. Needless to say we too have been busy wondering what to get little Agastya, the new member of our small family. After much thought and much window shopping one zeroed in on a dhoti kurta!

As I set about finding new clothes for my grandson my mind went back to Diwali few years back when little Utpal still lived with his mom, way before he went to boarding school. On that Diwali morning he came to see us all spruced in the brand new clothes his mom had bought him: pants, jacket and even a tie and to crown it all little cardboard lined shoes. I do not know why but he reminded me of a pastiche of little Lord Fauntleroy. It was all the mom could afford and yet she wanted her son to look his very best, at least for this special day. Needless to say I kept my little packet of new clothes for Utpal hidden. That Diwali was his mom’s day.

Yes, Diwali is important to one and all. Every family tries to celebrate the festival to the best of its ability and make it as special as possible. It does not matter if the shoes are bought in a swanky mall or on a street market, it does matter if they are sturdy or lined with cardboard. On Diwali every child has the right to wear new shoes.

I do not why I remembered this small innocuous incident today. But I am glad I did. The sight of little Utpal on that morning was truly touching and precious, a memory I carry in my heart, one that makes every Diwali special.

Happy Diwali to all.

After being long listed for the Golden Quill Awards, Dear Popples is now at the Frankfurt book fair. What a journey it has been.

Ray Kurzweil, the futurist recently predicted that in 20 years or so we might reach a stage where we could live forever, and even become ageless and immortal. What a frightening thought. Does it not make the meaning of our lives futile. Are purpose and achievement not linked to the simple fact that we are mortal, and hence have just that much time. Living forever would be like not living at all. One would simply be frozen in time.

Why I am writing about such issues today. Simply because today the one who gave me the gift of life would have celebrated her 92nd birthday. And no one loved life more than her. Even when she was dying of cancer, this remarkable woman refused any palliative care that may have anaesthetised her as she wanted to live till the last second of her life, a life that she had ensured had been worth living. Kamala was an ordinary girl from a small town. She should have lived an ordinary life and died an ordinary death. But she chose otherwise. She fought to be educated and was the first in her town to do so. She eventually got a PhD. She fought social mores and got married in her thirties as she did not want to bring a slave child into this world and thus not marry before India’s Independence. At a time when girls were mothers before becoming women, she chose to work to defend women’s rights in remote villages where she reached driving a truck. And when she did marry, the ordinary small town girl became a diplomat’s wife set to conquer the whole world.

Yes mama was an extraordinary woman. One who lived life to its fullest. And yet she did so because she knew life was a given gift but not an eternal one; that time was short and that you never really got a second chance. She wanted to leave her mark in whatever small way possible. Se did it her way.

Any notion of supposed immortality would rob us of the desire to achieve and do something so that we too would be remembered after our final curtain call. Life derives its very purpose from the very notion that it is limited and transient. Immortality would take away the very essence of life.

Today I remember the one who gave me life.

Meet Kamala here.

In India a child dies every 15 seconds due to neonatal diseases, and 2 million children die before reaching their fifth birthday, 20% of the world’s child death occurs in India, one in three of all malnourished children live in India, over 46% of children under three are underweight in India… over 28% of child’s deaths are linked just to poor sanitation and unsafe drinking water. These startling and shocking figures are from the recently released Save the Children “Every One” report.

I sat stunned as I read these figures. This was happening in a country where a 4 bedroom flat is rented at half a million rupees, a vintage bottle of wine sold at 50K ; where millions are spent on flowers for a wedding, where food is thrown in the garbage after nights of revelry, where gallons of milk are poured on deities. This was happening in a land where shopping malls are erected everyday, where shoes and bags can cost more ten times more than what 75% of India’s population earns in a year.

Austerity is the flavour of the hour. Heated debates are held on whether those in power should fly in one class or another. Absurd reasons are given to justify each one’s view and while all this is happening a child is dying every 15 second. Everyday new policies are announced amidst much fanfare. Every day new programmes are heralded to supposedly alleviate poverty. And yet children are dying simply because of unavailability of safe drinking water.

Missions are organised to conquer space, to reach the moon. Whoops of joy are heard because water has been found on the lunar surface but here children still die for the simple lack of it. Something is terribly wrong.

Every child, no matter where or to whom it is born has the right to live. And each and everyone of us have a moral responsibility to ensure that it happens. We must act and act now. We cannot turn our faces away or pretend that we cannot see or hear. The figures mentioned above were recently published in a national daily. How many of us read them and just moved on. I do not know. I can only say that they got seared in my soul and spirit. Things could never be the same again. Whatever one thought one had achieved suddenly seemed inconsequential. There was a sudden need to review, reassess, rethink everything and start all over again.

A child dies every 15 second in India and I hang my head in shame.

I read with amusement laced with consternation and outrage the new gimmick adopted by politicians to we their voters. The publicity drama is being called: slumber party with Dalits whereby people of a political party spent a night with a Dalit (low cate) family. What got my goat was ensures that beds were from Lajjawati’s house and thereason given by a media coordinator was: “We have to get this done, the house should also look like a Dalit’s house”.

Stop! Where are we. It all looks like a page form Alice in Wonderland and the Mad Hatter’s party. Why can a Dalit family not have a bed? And why should all this made to be looked like a TV reality show? Something is terribly wrong.

We have Dalits in the project family. Children as well as staff. Some are teachers and one is by far our best programme coordinator and slated for higher posts. But everyone has got his or her place because of his or her skills and merit. No one is there because of his or her social origin. For the past years we have been to their homes and shared many meals and fun moments. And let me tell you they have beds, sofas, TVs and more.

I do not know how effective the slumber party politics will be or how they will translate in votes. In my mind it just makes the gap wider and deeper. It is not by spending a night in a Dalit’s home that the social fabric of India will change.

I was pleasantly surprised to find a blog about our blog! The author wrote: Today I want to write about a blog which energize me each time I visit it. The blog, Projectwhy drowns my cynicism and taunts me too. I often lament about things but don’t do much about it, other than blog. But at projectwhy, one sees the other side of life and the way it is dealt with, in such a sincere manner. The author touches so many lives and continues to shine ever so brightly for them. I also love the way she deals with many of our current issues..

I must confess that I sat for a long time savouring the words and feeling elated. I must also confess that I began this journey way back in 2005 when I did not know what a blog or blogging meant. I use to write long emails and painfully send them one after the other to my mailing list. What I wanted was for people to share what was happening in our lives, to be sensitized to the reality around them and to learn to look with their hearts. I still sometimes peek at the very first post I wrote and smile at the naive words and candid tone. But it did set the mood for what was to come. Today I feel I have reached my destination and achieved what I set out to do. It took almost 1000 blogs to do so each sharing a joyful moment or raging about an injustice. The common denominator was probably that I only wrote about what I had experienced. The blogs are not only an account of the trials and tribulations of project why, but also a personal journey where I too have learnt to shed my cynicism and look with my heart no matter what I saw.

I has been an exhilarating journey of discovery that has had its nadir, but no matter how bad things looked there were always moments of pure unadulterated joy that has lifted the lowest of moods, the latest being little Sohil. When I watch him dance, I forget, albeit for a moment, that we are fighting for survival, that things are bleak and that tomorrow is very far away!

There is a new class at project why and like everything else it happened quite by chance. The special educator who comes thrice a week to work with our children came to me last week and asked me whether project why could provide some space for a bunch of deaf and dumb students who needed after school support to keep up with their studies. As you may have guessed we said yes immediately. That is the way we are. The logistics would be worked out and all would fall in place.

The reason for which I agreed to the request is that I more than anyone else believe in inclusive education and I more than anyone else know how things are on the ground in the government schools these kids go to. The extra support can and will make all the difference.

So a a few adjustments were made and space crated for these students who now come thrice a week to catch up with their school studies and what is wonderful is that little Bittoo, our hearing impaired child joins the class.

It is a wonderful silent class and I invite you to peep in:

He leaned against his cart forlorn and dejected. No one seemed to want to drink his water today. He was a wizened old man who could barely stand, let alone push his cart. He had been coming to this very spot, year after year, actually at each Durga Pujo. He always placed his cart in front of the biggest Puja Pandal, next to the temple and every year he made quick business. Something had changed. This year he was alone. The usual food carts were absent and with no one eating food, no one needed to quench their thirst.

He was not aware of the new court ruling that now banned selling cooked food on the streets. He was illiterate and no one in his home spoke to him, let alone share with him the on goings of life. He felt like a burden and looked forward to leaving his son’s home early and spent the whole day out, even if he had sold all the water he had in his cart. He kept a rupee or two for himself and dutifully handed the balance to his daughter in law. At least that way there was no recriminations. But today, when everyone would be expecting a killing, he would return empty handed. he did not even want to think about what would happen.

The old man is part of what is known as the informal economy, the hawkers and street vendors; people who come to the city looking for jobs and then not finding any create their own. It is estimated that there are over 4 lakhs such vendors in Delhi. They make barely enough to live and have to pay huge bribes to be allowed to function. According to an NGO they pay over 600 crores annually! This was one of the reasons for the new law but what it amounts to is punishing the victim and not the perpetrator.

In the last ten days or so we have seen furious activity along side the main road in Govindpuri. All street hawkers are targeted by the police. Some try to slink into the nearby alleys. Others have just closed shop. Wonder how many new families now go hungry at night. Street food has been an age told tradition in Delhi and the hygiene factor is not really one that I buy. A hot samosa may send my LDL cholesterol flying but has never given me a Delhi belly. The idea of a cold samosa makes me lose my appetite.

Many of the parents of our children run food stalls. That is how they have survived for years now and looked after their families. They feed the poor and the middle class with affordable and healthy food. Such people cannot afford the swanky fast food joints which seem to be getting a thumbs up all the way and which are proliferating by the minute. The new order will make the list of unemployed swell. And with no new jobs on the anvil where will these people go. Are we just going to watch the death of an age old tradition and say nothing?

Just like the old man, many across the city are slowly seeing the end of their journey So help them God!

My grandson will be with us in a few days. The excitement is palpable. Everyone seems tobe walking on air. The old house is being spruced up. The wood has been polished, the windows are squeaky clean and the ancient and worn out floor is almost gleaming. Everyone is busy and yet time hangs heavy, refusing to pass reminding me of Bergson’s theories. The same time will fly once the little fellow lands and then hang heavy again when he leaves. But the purpose of this post is not to write a treatise on time!

Little Agastya is just 8 months old. His whole life awaits him and as any dotty granny I wish it is filled with all that is good and beautiful. Do we not always wish that for our children! And yet what we forget is that we are responsible for what lies ahead. We adults hold the coloured crayons that will fill the blank canvass. The little child will become what he sees, hears, feels and experiences. It is for us to show them the very best.

In a recent TV debate on violence and aggressive behaviour, someone said that what we failed to teach the young of today were values such as compassion and empathy. In a world ruled by possession and control, principles like fellow feeling and tolerance seemed passé and outdated. Children grew up to believe that the measure of success is in the things you had to flaunt and vaunt. Hence you smothered your child with objects of all shades and hue, the bigger the better, the dearer the better!

A good heart is better than all the heads in the world wrote Edward Bulwer-Lytton. I wonder how one teaches a child to have a good heart in our day and age. How does one teach compassion? How does one teach concern, tolerance, humanity. By example of course but examples are few and moreover the child should never feel alienated. I remember a friend who had no TV when her child was growing up. One day the child came back from school upset and crying. The reason was simple: she could not be part of the break time chat that revolved around the latest episode of the latest TV serial aired. So how do you strike the right balance in your quest to teach values to children. The TV programme suggested that compassion be taught as a subject in school. My mind went back to days where we had moral classes in school. But those days are gone too.

My little grandson is still too tiny but as he grows I would like to make him discover the true meaning of things: make him feel the caress of the wind, listen to the humming of the birds and the rustle of leaves. I would like to read to him passages of the Little Prince and make him discover the secret of the fox. As he grows I would like to teach him to celebrate difference, make his own choices and walk the road less traveled.

A mail dropped by in my inbox. It was from an organisation that was launching a new funding campaign. My first reaction was to trash it immediately but something made me read on as the mail seemed to be personally addressed to me. I was curious to know what was wanted of me. The answer was in the last para: Your blog is extremely well written and read. A mention about Anand Charity, its mission, its current projects or the fundraiser would immensely benefit us. It would allow us to reach out to and touch more underprivileged people. We would be very indebted to you for your help.

How presumptuous! Did people not know that I ran project why and hence was also constantly looking for funds to survive. But again I did not trash the mail and decided to find out more about Anand Charity. I clicked on their website and as is always the case with me looked for the faces behind.

What I saw filled my heart with pride and joy. Seven smiling faces of young Indians, each from the best schools and universities, each with a message that went straight to my heart. They were, all just like me, paying back a debt they felt they owed. It had taken me half a life to get there. They had not wasted any time. They were true children of India and the very best. They had learned the fox’s secret in the Little Prince and knew how to see with their hearts.

Today their organisation is reaching out to help organisations like project why. They fund projects related to education, health and disaster management across India and they have launched a fundraiser urging people to part with just 5$. I wish them success andI hope they succeed. They have to so that they become role models for young Indians. And perhaps they can show me the right way!

It is only when more young Indians learn to see with their hearts that India will truly change. God bless them.

Restore, not remove is an article I urge you all to read. In the wake of the decision of scrapping class X Boards, it comes as an eye opener and is quite unusual as it urges the powers that be to restore two jaded institutions namely the NSS and the NCC as ways of continuous evaluation of children as continuous evaluation seems to be the flavour of the day.

I must confess that I would not have thought of this and yet the more I ponder over this suggestion, the more I like it. I had blogged recently on the grade system wondering how it would actually work in situ. The task seemed daunting as one had to train teachers to accept new ways and that is no easy task. Kaveree Bamzai seems to have come up with the ideal solution, one that does not need any new inputs or training as both the NSS and NCC are part and parcel our education system. As she says in her article today’s over active and energetic children would be better off playing soldiers and doing real social work than watching useless TV programmes targeted to the young.

The NCC and NSS may at first sound a little passé and outdated. But I urge you to look at them with fresh eyes. The NCC teaches discipline as well as opens new avenues to young minds who can learn a host of activities ranging from battle tactics to para jumping. The NSS is a way of teaching compassion and responsibility. What better values than we think of. I myself can never forget the weekly visits to the orphanage during my school years in Saigon. I think somehow what I do today finds it first seeds in those visits. Instead of finding new ways of creating good citizens, a relook at these two institutions could do wonders. They just need some smart repackaging.

In earlier days free time was spent reading books. Sadly today children have stopped reading and watch TV instead. The slum children or their parents never savoured the joys of reading; they just jump started straight into the TV era. Parents both privileged and underprivileged have scant time for their progeny, schools have abdicated their real role and the huge void thus created had been filled by useless and often absurd activities. As the author of the article points out the youth of today, our so called good citizens go on UTV Bindass’ Dadagiri to look for cheese cubes in a bowl of leeches and eat sauce mixed with human hair.

We desperately need to look at education again and why not restore what was good and healthy like the NSS and NCC or the forgotten SUPW (socially useful productive work) which took children to slums and old age homes.

We cannot afford to have a generation of MTV roadies. If this does happen we would be responsible of having failed our children as children are just what you make them to be.

The recent scrapping of the class X Boards has been welcomed by one and all. Then why is it that I am feeling uneasy and slightly rattled. I sat for a long time trying to figure out what was disturbing me and why I was not jumping with joy. Was I not the one who had always been against examinations that tended to assess a child’s future on her of his performance on a single day. Was I not the one who once extolled the benefits of alternative schools to all those who would hear me. And yet here I was brooding over the news of Boards being scrapped. What had changed?

The answer was simple: then I thought of my kids, now the faces that came to mind was those of the pwhy kids whom I had seen toiling over class X exams for many years now and succeeding. What was disturbing me was how they would perform in the new scenario. What would we expected of them and how would they be able to compete with their peers from privileged homes and schools? I decided to try and find out what would be expected of them in the new continuous evaluation system.

The new CBSE grading system would comprise of a summative and a formative assessment. While the former would be based on the term end examinations, the later was far more complex and would evaluate class work, home work, assignment and project work. The system again seemed to tilt in favour of the privileged schools where project work and assignments were the order of the day. Sadly in government schools that was not the case at all. In such schools the only thing that mattered was learning and mugging for one exam and one did that with the help of guide books, past question papers et al. Now all this had ended and much of the performance of the student would be assessed on work done in class along the year.

I read somewhere that special training classes were soon to be held for teachers. I wonder how they will achieve changing mindsets and old ways. Extra classes and tuition days are now passe. Every child will have to perform day-after-day. Knowing the situation prevalent in government schools one wonders how that will happen and one also wonders how one needs to reinvent one’s self to address the new situation. I guess things will fall in place after a few batches and that in the ultimate analysis it is all for the better but I still ask myself how a student whose family can barely buy her guide books will be able to come up with all the resources needed to complete an assignment or project that the child will have to complete in a cramped tenement she shares with many.

Sohil is the new kid in the special section. He is 6 years old and has hydrocephalus. He also has spindly legs and malformed feet making his gait unsteady and awkward. But that does not deter him from doing everything his new pals do.

Come dance time and Sohil surreptitiously moves towards a wall and takes his position. In this way he knows he will not fall. And once the music plays, Sohil dances with his heart, his huge head and tiny body gyrating and moving just like any Bollywood star.

Little Sohil is very talkative and loves asking questions. He is extremely friendly and goes to every and anyone. He is the darling of the class and is loved by all but his special friend is little Radha and they are often together. My heart misses a beat each time I see them. Do they actually realise that they are soul siblings? Do they know that they both have truncated lives and can not dream of many morrows? Is that why they are so attracted to each other.

Radha and Sohil are both extremely bright and intelligent kids. In spite of their handicaps they are extremely independent and have a rare thirst for knowledge. They are like little sponges wanting to imbibe everything that comes they way and always wanting more. Their joie de vivre is infectious. They deserve to live long and fruitful lives and yet we all know that their sojourn on this planet is short, very short. Had they been born on the other side of the fence they could have perhaps dared aspire to more. But that is not to be.

When Radha and Sohil are in class there is no space for gloom or despair. Everyone gets touched by their special brand of optimism and moods get lifted by magic. Life is celebrated in its purest form and everyone is joyful. And for a brief moment all is well on planet earth.

Watch Sohil dance, you too will be touched by his magic

For the past almost ten years now, project why has been giving what can best be called after school support to hundreds of slum children. For the past almost ten years we have basked in the glory of knowing that all our children passed their examinations and that no one dropped out. For the past almost ten years this seemed to be our mission and we were true to it. The challenge now was to see our work become sustainable and thus freed of any vagary that could hamper or even halt it midway.

Thus was born the idea of planet why, and though its primary function was undoubtedly to raise funds for our work. But that is not where it stopped as, almost intuitively and even surreptitiously, silent yet deafening whys were heard and needed to be addressed. One of them was simply: after this, what? Or in other words what would happen to our kids after they completed their schooling keeping in mind ground realities. Let me elaborate a little. It is a fact that in spite of our best efforts most of our children will never be top of the class. What must remember that they run the race with huge handicaps: a late start, a hostile environment, no support at home, no English at home, no access to extras (books, computers, internet), no positive stroking, no encouragement and much more. That they even manage to complete their. studies is nothing short of a miracle. But the question that begs to be answered is what do you do with a class XII certificate with poor marks? The answer is: not much. And the reality is that with no extra skills or learning the child is often doomed to follow the father’s footsteps and become what he could have without his long school years.

Parents of such children do not have the means to give them the required added skills needed to change their lives and break the cycle in which they are caught. The long school years look like a terrible waste. This has been disturbing me for some time now and that is perhaps why planet why was conceived the way it has been: a way to take the children a step further and give them the skills they need to become productive. Hence after school they could learn an added skill: be it in the guest house (housekeeping, catering, gardening etc) or in the courses we envisage running when we have the space and infrastructure to do so: plumbing, electrical work, TV repair, mobile phone repair etc.

It is imperative that we do so and sooner than later. Otherwise the very spirit of project why is defeated.

The austerity debate has been going on for too many days! For the past week we have been treated or should I say subjected to innumerable debates and parleys on whether Members of Parliament and others in so called power should fly economy or business. Innumerable tweets and blogs have been written on the subject.

The debate seemed to have been triggered off by news of two Ministers living in 5 star hotel suites pending availability of their Luytens bungalow that were being spruced off. And before one knew it the battle had boiled down to business versus economy class travel and the ensuing parleys laughable: one dignitary talked of his long legs while the other of his need for a state-of-the-art gym. Well my dear Sirs, have you forgotten that you belong and represent a land where there are millions who go to sleep hungry without a roof on their heads. That a whole week was needed to discuss whether one should travel in one class or another is frivolous. It is just matter of status symbol as in fact both classes get you from point A to point B in exactly the same time barring the fact that one saves a little of the tax payer’s money.

The austerity debate should have led to some serious soul searching about whether each one was discharging his of her duties in the best manner possible. It should have led to course corrections in functioning and delivering. I have often held that if all government projects and schemes delivered 50% of what they promised, India would be a different country altogether. A simple scheme like the ICDS launched in 1975, that is 34 years ago, would have taken care of malnutrition and immunisation for millions of children. And the list is endless.

We cannot be fooled anymore by cosmetic actions like the ones proffered in the on-going debate. We have earned the right after six decades of independence to be taken seriously. I was shocked by the tone and words of a political party spokesperson when he said on national TV that he was willing to travel in the cargo hold if he were given the permission! This is not a game dear Sir. If the government has felt the need to talk austerity, it is because the country is facing a severe crisis and we expect our representatives to behave in a befitting manner.

No one would grudge first class travel to anyone, if all else was going well. We are fed up to see our so called leaders waste precious time on frivolous debates.

The tragic death of seven young girls in a stampede in a secondary government school is a tragedy that no words can describe adequately. Like thousands of children across the city, these girls went to school to sit for their second term exams. It was a rainy day and classes were flooded. A simple rumour triggered a stampede in the sole narrow staircase of a building that housed over 2000 children at a time. The result: seven lives were lost and many children were seriously injured.

A multitude of deafening whys scream for answers and yet one knows that few if any will be answered. The usual and sated response mechanism has been set in motion: endless and useless enquiry commissions and monetary compensation for the dead and injured. Enough is enough. The children of India have the right to demand that things be set right once for all and that ALL the children of India be treated in the same way, notwithstanding their social origin. They are fed up of being treated as second class citizens and demand their place in the sun. The society of schools should be made equitable. It is time that slogans like education for all be taken seriously. Band aid solutions are not enough. Every school in the country should be a centre of excellence, a place where children can learn and remain safe. What goes by the name of schools is nothing but an aberration! Dilapidated buildings with no basic amenities are not acceptable.

I wonder who designed the building of the school where this terrible terrible tragedy occurred? How can over 2000 children be housed in a building which has only one narrow staircase? How long will be keep silent spectators and allow this to continue? How many more young lives will have to be sacrificed before we open our eyes and dare to look and perhaps see? Reality stares us in the face and we simply look away.

Tomorrow or perhaps the day after, this tragedy will be forgotten. Some cosmetic action will be taken in the hope of assuaging matters and life will resume its course. That is sadly the harsh reality.

Our website has a brand new look. Do check it out. It is a labour of love! Some months back Anisa a wonderful young lady wrote to me offering her support. She said she could help us redesign our site if I so wished. I of course accepted and thus began a journey that culminated in our new site going on line this morning.

I must confess that I was quite pesky and annoying as we old ladies often are and I must admire Anisa’s patience as she incorporated all my idiosyncrasies: be it my annoying obsession for pristine looks, or my insistence to include often redundant information. She bore it all and painstakingly incorporated each and every element I asked for. Slowly the new site emerged, just as I had often dreamt it to be. Till now, the project why site had been the result of my haphazard attempts at web mastering. For the first time in almost 10 years we had a professional site, and yet it it reflected the spirit of what pwhy stood for. Kudos to Anisa who had the ability to read the mind of an old biddy sitting thousands of miles away.

Our site has come of age. And I guess somewhere we have too. Ten years is a long time. I remember my first hesitant attempts at learning an alien language: htm and html were double dutch to me. And yet the need of having a website was real. We did not have the funds to pay for professional expertise and did not have supporters or friends to reach out to. A static site was no option, so I decided to try my hand at it and I guess managed to muddle my way through. Thank heavens no one saw the patchwork masterpieces that my programming was. The end product was palatable and that is all that mattered.

Today I can take a breather and sit back and enjoy the new project why website. It is more than just a site. It shows how over the years we have crafted an amazing network of supporters ad friends who today spontaneously reach out to us when we need them. This is undoubtedly the strength of project why, something I would not like to lose for anything in the world. It infuses pwhy with a rare spirit and makes us want to continue walking that extra mile with a smile on our lips and a song in our hearts.

Thank you Anisa,

Little Radha never ceases to amaze us. In spite of her brittle bones and her useless legs she is the most independent child I have seen. She participates in each and every game, dances and even jumps around. True she evolves her own ways some quite stunning as her way of drinking water!

Radha is a true survivor. Her zest for life is infectious. Her thirst for knowledge is overwhelming. It is as if she wants to pack all she can in her truncated life, as if she knows that time is short. Watching her is uplifting and heart wrenching.

Vineel is a new student in the creche. He was born without forearms, his hands awkwardly stuck to his elbow making it quasi impossible for him to do simple tasks like hold a pencil to write or pull down his shorts to go the loo. If he falls, he hurts his nose or face as his arms cannot reach out to break the fall.

Vineel is a bright and intelligent child who wants to be just like his pals and tries to do everything the others do as best he can. In spite of it being the first day in school and in spite of the tears that kept welling from time to time, Vineel did us proud as he danced and played with his new pals.

One may wonder what Vineel’s morrows will hold. He has all it needs to go to a regular school and yet will he be accepted. No one knows. It is certain that Vineel will need help and special care, something a government and even a private school may not be able to offer. He will have to be helped in some tasks and above all will have to be protected from the sometimes cruel remarks and actions of his peers. His small handicap should not shut the doors of a sound education and yet one fears for him.

We will in the next year try and make him as independent as possible by evolving ways in which he can do the simple everyday tasks that will be asked of him as he grows. We will try and build his confidence to help him face what lies ahead. Vineel deserves the best and we will make sure he gets it.

Sunday was PTM day for our little foster care kids. This was the first PTM since school opened. For the past week there had been a flurry of activity to prepare for D day. All the parents had to be informed and plans made. It was decided that the parents of all our four kids: Babli, Vicky, Nikhil and Aditya would pool resources and hire a car. Every one was excited.

On Sunday morning they all set out bright and early for what was to be a very special day. After meeting the kids it was time to meet the teachers. Everyone was thrilled to see the results and even more so as Babli and Vicky had stood second in their respective classes. Report cards were collected and then the children showed the school to their proud parents: the dorm, the dining hall and the play grounds. The excitement was palpable and the pride in the children’s and parents eyes was for all to see.

A set of incredible circumstances enabled these four children and their little pal Utpal to break the circle of poverty and a life in the slums and accede to a good education, the kind you would give your child. This is nothing short of a miracle. Had they been left where they supposedly belonged, most of them would not have completed their school, and even run the risk of becoming child labour. It almost happened with Babli! And that time no one would have believe that the same little girl would one day be in a boarding school happily building her morrows. And yet that is exactly what she is doing today with her little pals.

After the grand tour it was time for a little outing to a nearby park. There was a surprise in store for the children: the moms had packed loads of home made food for their children and everyone had an impromptu picnic. Then the happy party returned to school to share lunch with the children in the dining hall. A grad moment for all. Soon it was time to leave an say bye till the next time.

You can share some glimpses of this very special day

It was very hard to walk into the pwhy building yesterday. For the past 6 years I had been greeted almost every morning by Nanhe’s huge smile, and if for some reason I was lost in my thoughts and failed to look in his direction, Nanhe, the child who could not speak, always managed to get my attention and treat me to his huge smile and I knew that no matter what, all would be well.

Yesterday there was no smile to greet me. The building seemed strangely empty and hollow. I knew things would never be quite the same. One may wonder what a little broken soul like Nanhe could mean to someone like me, how a little seemingly useless being could become such an important part of one’s life. It is once again a matter of looking with one’s heart. Nanhe was undoubtedly an Angel that the God of Lesser Souls sent our way. His message was simple and clear: no matter what life is still beautiful and no matter how bad it looks, it is still worth a smile. And the little chap lived by the book: even in his worst moments of pain, he never lost his smile. And when you looked at him smiling you suddenly felt uplifted. No matter where and when, in a hospital ward where he lay or in his tiny hovel Nanhe smiled.

Tomorrow maybe Nanhe will be forgotten. His is not a life you commemorate. The pain we feel today will undoubtedly lessen and even vanish, life does have to go on. He more than anyone else would have wanted it to. But for me it is important to ensure that it is not a life lived in vain. I did hear his message loud and clear and it is a simple one: never give up, no matter how dark the night looks dawn is only a few moments away. And I promise you little Nanhe, I will not give up. You have left many smiles in my custody and I promise you they will be safe.

Let this blog be his epitaph. I urge you to look at the pictures below. You too will be touched by the magic of a little angel’s incredible smile.

That Nanhe was important is borne by the number of blogs written for him. read them if you have the time.
when today is over
to die for
for the little ones
urban treat
how many times must nanhe
a smile in custody
pwhy and beyond
back with a bang
praying for a smile
because of your smile
the spunk of a smile
when nanhe’s eyes are smiling
smiling on
a smile lost
a smile referred to
a promotion for nanhe
wish I had a dreamcatcher
whose life is it anyway
an unequal battle
is it walking towards him
miracles happen everyday
return of the buddy
a samosa and a jig
nanhe is back
mazza a gaya

Recently a donor asked us to find out where the pwhy alumni was today. I felt a little sheepish as this was an exercise we should have done but somehow it slipped our minds. So it was time to set out and find out where all our past students were. We began class XII classes in 2006 and our class of 2006 all 5 of them have good jobs. One of them is also doing his BCA while working.

Our class of 2007 is more studious. One of them is doing Chartered Accountancy, four of of them are in college and one is working while doing her BA. The class of 2008 is also studying. Shashi Kant who was the South Delhi topper in Government schools is in college. Three of his classmates are doing their Chartered Accountancy, four are in college and two of them are working and also studying. And this year’s batch is not to be left behind. The class of 2009 has 6 Chartered Accountancy aspirants and the remaining 6 are in college. Wow is all I can say!

It is heartwarming to see all these children of a lesser God bloom and shine. The number of budding CAs brings a smile on my face as I remember how Naresh our secondary teacher spent two years taking accountancy classes to be able to teach the subject. This was before we actually began class XII teaching. And today many of his students are aspiring to become CAs.

I was thrilled when I got all this information. It was really fulfilling to see that all the efforts we had put in bore fruits and that perhaps we had helped a handful of kids aspire to a better morrow. I must confess that I sat for a long moment taking all this in, my heart filled with pride and joy.

This is the I time normally remember Ram and what he meant to me. Every year since his departure I have never forgotten to reminisce about him, particularly on his birthday, celebrated on the very day of India’s Independence. There is however another birthday that is celebrated within our home the day before: it is the one of R, my husband.

R has been my life partner for 35 years. In all those years he has always stood, albeit quietly, by everything that I have done. If not for him pwhy would not have seen the light of day. Very often in life we take people simply for granted and forget to express gratitude where it’s truly due. We often fail or forget to realise that there are some people who give us the strength to fulfill our aspirations, who clear the path so that we can walk, who give invisible yet strong wings to our dreams. R has done just that. In his strong yet unobtrusive way he has stood by me in my moments of weakness and doubt. He has been the shoulder I can always lean on, the sounding board of all my ideas before they get translated into reality and has never failed to boost a sagging spirit or calm an irate one.

I was thrilled beyond words when R accepted to come by pwhy on his birthday and see the little show that the special children had put together. R visits to pwhy have been rare. Somehow he has always chosen to remain in the background and let me soar in what is my world. I realise today that he did this for me, respecting the space I had created for myself, not wanting to take away anything that was duly mine. It is indeed very humbling. That he decided to come by and spend some time with us on this day – his 60th – was indeed special.

Thanks are due today to this wonderful man without who nothing would have ever been possible.

Last Friday the Sari Kids had a special treat in store for the creche children: an outing to the Children’s park. It was truly special as most of the creche children belong to extremely poor families and never get to go out. Notes had been sent to the parents informing them of the outing and most of the children came in their best clothes. It was a very hot and humid day but no one seemed to mind, the excitement was palpable. The children were rearing to go and son it was time to do just that.

A ride in a big bus, a snack in a huge green park with trees and flowers and birds chirping and then it was time to attack the swings and rides. And boy they did, to their heart’s content. Not a swing was missed, every one had to be tried. It was touching to watch them as they giggled and laughed and were real children, even if it was for a very short time.

You can share some the very special moments here:

Received a mail this morning asking me to write about a new venture called indiameme! I clicked on the link given and landed on a bright and colourful page that caught my immediate attention. Indiameme is a place where you can get all the news about India at one place- news, blogs and more -. Project why is also part of this exciting venture. I spent some time on the site and found that it was a great place for getting the best of what is available.
Do drop by indiameme, you are bound to like it!

As expected Dear Popples did not make it to the short list of the Golden Quill award. Its brush with fame was short and fleeting. It did sit proudly and bravely for weeks next to giants but then got knocked off. Did I believe it would ever make it: I guess the heart did while reason screamed otherwise. Was there a tinge of disappointment: I guess there was, I am but human.

The story of a little poor boy written by a dotty old woman is not what is crowned and feted in our world. It is not a burning issue of today or yesteryears. It may touch your heart but only if you allow it to do so. Sadly many have forgotten how to do just that: look with their hearts.

The saga of dear Popples finds its genesis in the dream of a teenager. The dream was turned into reality by two beings: a small boy and a big man, both wonderful beings and surprisingly similar though you again need to see with your heart to see that! An unusual book launch was the culmination of the dream saga and then it was time to get off the clouds and get back to one’s life. Dreams only last till the first knock of dawn.

Imagine my surprise when more than a year later I get to know that dear Popples has been nominated for a literary award. Time to dream again, even if it was for a few moments. And one did just that. Now things have again fallen in place, and dreams laid to rest. But the story of an extraordinary little fellow continues to haunt me and will do so for the remaining days of my life.

The Right to Education Bill has been passed. After 62 years of Independence the children of India have finally got the fundamental right to free and compulsory education! Wonder why it took so long but then today let us simply celebrate the event.

It is true that millions of children have been excluded, those below 6 and those above 14. Wonder why as both these age groups are extremely vulnerable and need adequate care and understanding. We do hope that our lawmakers will make amends at a later date.

Once the celebrations are over, it will time to think about whether words will be translated into action. It will be time to ponder at how the piece of legislation will actually affect children or whether, for the time being at least, nothing much will change. If you look at things around you you soon realise that there is still long way to go before every child born in this land will be schooled. Education alone does not make any sense. It has to be linked to a broader vision where employability is addressed. As we know, many jobs today require a class X if not a class XII certificate. 14 is the age where you are just in class VIII. Social needs must be part of any education policy. If education leads me nowhere why should I study. Free education has to lead somewhere: to a school leaving certificate at least!

Before and after August 5, 2009, the ground reality has not and cannot change. Children may have acquired the right to education but education will still be imparted, at least for some time, in the same conditions: the same schools, the same teachers, the same environment. No teacher will look at his pupil in a different way post 5/8/09.

If ones looks at the Bill closely one finds many lacunae, each one needing to be addressed. How will one ensure that every child does go to school? How will one ensure that quality education is being imparted? and so on.

The RTE Bill also states that 25% of seats available in each public school will be reserved for the less privileged. This in itself is a contentious issue in many ways. It has been on the cards for some time now and we all now that free and equitable education for ALL the children of India is not around the corner. There are still many hurdles to clear and though the neighborhood school was mentioned in the Bill, its definition was too vague. One would have liked to see it mentioned as it is the only way one can truly ensure the free and equitable education for all.

In today’s India getting your child into school is nothing short of a nightmare. No child should be subjected to rejection and yet the society of schools is a reality one cannot circumvent, and better schools come at a better price. It was a relief to see the Bill address the capitation fee issue. But again who bells all the cats? A question waiting to be answered.

True the Bill throws up many questions and each will need to be carefully addressed. Let us just hope it is a step in the direction of the still elusive common school that would truly give every child its newly acquired fundamental right.

Yesterday the girls of the special section tied rakhis on the wrists of the boys of their class. These were very special rakhis as they had been made by the girls themselves!

The moment was solemn and touching as each girl got ready to proceed with the small ceremony. The brothers were seated on a small stool and the girls had their box of sweet and tikka ready. The ceremony proceeded with clockwork precision and in silence. Each brother ‘s wrist was soon full of bright and colourful rakhis.

It was moving to see these children of a lesser God create bonds that one could not really qualify and yet what linked these extraordinary children was hours of laughter and fun, of sharing and giving, of fighting and making up. It did not matter whether you were rich or poor, whole or broken, whether you could hear or walk, what mattered was that you belonged to the exclusive group called the special children of pwhy.

It is difficult to describe the mood that permeated the air for those magical moments. All I know is that the Gods were smiling.

I received an email informing me about a new initiative: the joy of giving week! The mail said: The “Joy of Giving Week” is planned for Sept 27-Oct 3, 2009 as a national movement that aims to engage more than two crore Indians in different “acts of giving” -money, time, resources and skills. The week aims to engage every Indian citizen in “giving back” to society in a way that s/he chooses. From a billionaire writing a large cheque to a poor villager sharing 1 out of his 3 rotis with someone less fortunate, the idea is to create a “festival of philanthropy” that can, over the years, become a part of the Indian ethos, with the Week being celebrated every year covering Gandhi Jayanti. Wow what a great enterprise and how one wishes it works. Actually it should as it has all the ingredients for success: stars, celebrities, media campaigns and more. The email solicited one to spread the message… and let us do just that. The details of the campaign are available on the link given above.

What I want to do is to extol the joy of giving and share with you some of the very gentle ways in which people have reached out to help project why. I have been in the business of soliciting and panhandling for a decade now hoping against hope to ignite the flame of giving in individuals, corporates and others. That it seems to have worked till now is vindicated in the fact that we have been in existence for almost 10 years. The price one has had to pay is another story waiting to be told. You can find glimpses on it in blogs written in times of despair: be it about the art of giving or the way to do so. If my blogs were ever to be published, they could be happily titled: the saga of giving!

We too initiated our joy of giving week/month year in the form of the one-rupee-a-day initiative and encountered many a storm. Somehow our joy of giving pitch did not quite take off the way we would have wanted. And yet over the past years we have been privy to some of the most beautiful and generous ways of giving that anyone could imagine: the efforts of a very special young lady who refuses to give up on us and has the knack of lifting my spirits when they drop well below zero, the spirit of an incredible woman who puts on her running shoes to ensure that pwhy children keep smiling, the initiative of young business school students who come each year and spread their brand of love, the effort of a young volunteer to make sure that the life of a little scalded child is not wasted, and the many others miracles that drop our way with obsessive regularity urging one not to give up! The tiny efforts of huge hearts that make us believe that all is not lost, even when everything urges you to think otherwise.

There is joy in giving, but it requires you to make a huge effort: that of looking deep into the eyes of a little beggar child knowing that you run the risk of getting lost forever. One does not need to run festivals of philanthropy. Philanthropy lies dormant in each one of us and needs to be awakened and often it happens when you least expect it.

Last Friday the special section spent the day making rakhis as Raksha Bandhan is being celebrated next week. Threads, glue, sparkles, coloured papers, paint, brushes and scissors were set up and everyone set to work.

There was a palpable excitement in the air as the rakhis were to be sold and a big treat bought from the sale proceeds. It was touching to see everyone toil over his or her rakhi, sticking sparkles or painting flowers as they decorated their rakhis. Little Radha forgot the plaster on her foot as she set out to make a stunning rakhi. Some worked in pairs, others alone. Sometimes the teachers would help but somehow everyone knew that they had to make their rakhis unique. And they truly were: special threads of love woven by very special children.

You can share this very special day here.