Sometimes you wonder why children are made to suffer! I wrote about Himanshu locked in his world and who had found a pal in Nanhe.

Well someone got jealous or cast a spell and the next day nanhe found suffered acute renal colic and had an epileptic fit that send him to hospital and Himanshu found himself without his new friend.

Himanshu’s story is what horror films are made of: his mother committed suicide by hanging herself, probably because of domestic violence. His maternal grandparents then asked the father to come to the village proposing that he marry the dead wife’s sister. the father thought it would be a doable option for his two children as Himanshu has a younger sister.

In the village, in some remote part of Bihar, what awaited him was a family seeking revenge. The man was shot by the brothers and the whole deed made to look like another suicide.

Today the children are being looked after my the dead father’s sister who has chosen no to marry in order to bring up these two children.

I wonder what Himanshu saw that made him the way he is, locked up in a strange world of his own, trying to deal with something he cannot understand.

In the face of such tragedy I remain speechless.

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Over the past six years I have had to fight many battles. Lost some, won some. Sometimes the adversary is too formidable as was the case of the MLM people who came with their rehearsed pitches, their alluring promises and their fast track to riches!

They came, saw and conquered many young men and women promising them a quantum leap measured of course in gleaming bikes, and natty cars. My sensible words fell on deaf years: some listened by respect, and others just took the longer road to avoid the babbling old lady telling them to take one step at a time.

I felt a pang of guilt as pwhy boys and girls were naturally selected to lead as their social and communication skills were well honed by years of tender grooming. I watched with despair as some dropped out of colleges to be able to sell more computer software to gullible slum dwellers. The MLM gang was quick to scale down their minimum qualifications to ensnare more lads. Graduate, to class XII, to class X and even less.

I prayed my favourite God to make the pyramid crash sooner than later but to no avail. I have to confess that all the ex pwhyans have gleaming bikes and some have even bought cars, leaving me even more uncomfortable as I know the inevitable outcome.

So R got his brand new Innova. It is parked on the other side of the Giri Nagar road, in front of his tiny shack that is barely sufficient for the family of 5, next to the tinier shack that is the bathroom. Every morning his teen age sisters open the car, switch the AC, put on loud music and happily brush their teeth and have their morning tea. The car is also often used as a sitting or even sleeping space!

That is what happens when cars land in slums..

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I am livid. Do you remember Babli?

Here I was back in a comfort zone feeling smug like a proverbial Cheshire cat, thinking that with her brand new heart, Babli was sitting on a school bench making up for lost time when I was hit by another thunderbolt.

R and S came back from a field visit visibly upset. On the way they had passed Babli’s slum cluster and found her sitting on a cart selling chewing tobacco, cigarettes and biscuits instead of being in school, her little sister standing in the background.

The cart was supposed to be the father’s way of earning some money, but he simply left her there to pursue his gambling habit. Seems that it happens often as she sheepishly told us that her name had been struck of the roll of the school.

The mother spends long hours in the factory she works in and the father does as he pleases. Come tomorrow and we will set out on a remedial mission which will start with some plain talking with the impossible farthest threatening to put him behind bars if he abuses the child in this manner. Then a PR expedition to government school to ensure that she is taken back. Somewhere down the line the mother will get a dressing too.

These moments are when you just feel throwing your hands up but you stop midway and wonder how you can address the situation that actually is one of protecting children’s rights. We can carry on our crisis intervention, but there is a larger question that needs to be looked at: parents need to be informed about the laws in existence and about the importance of giving girls a good education.They should be made aware of the child labour laws and more..

The presence of little Arzoo in the background is a blatant proof of the fact that girls are treated differently as Ramu the brother goes to school.

There is so much to be done, one step at a time…

Note: two days after this post babli was back in school, and sister arzoo back at pwhy’s creche.

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I have always feared comfort zones. You fall prey to them unwittingly. When things look alright, when no untoward incident occurs, that is when comfort zones appear and you easily fall prey to their lure.

This has happened time and again at pwhy though I have tried to fight it as best I could. When things are smooth you even stop seeing things as they are.

Then something happens to bring you back to earth and you feel a tad guilty looking for meagre excuses where none exist. And when it pertains to a child, then the guilt is far greater. So many little miracles have escaped my mind and yet where there for all to see.

Many of you may wonder why I have not written about Nanhe for a long time. Simply because I feel prey to the comfort zone syndrome. But a lot has happened and it is time to share with all those who have loved and supported him.

After his leg operations Nanhe has been able to stand and is slowly learning to walk with a walker. It is a huge step for this child who till recently was condemned to drag himself in a sitting position. To us who take our standing as granted it may not seem so important, but imagine what it means to little Nanhe. he can now stand with his classmates and take part in the morning exercise routine, and even dance with them.

No wonder then that the smile has got even bigger!

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Come November and it is time for me to get off the spinning earth and look at time gone by as a rank outsider…

November never held much significance in the first for decades of my life. But the year 1992 changed it all. November took my father away and brought the most difficult closure in my life. For six long years I sought every crutch possible just to the fragile vessel of my life from sinking.

But November is also the month when life came full circle with the setting up of pwhy’s first class in Giri Nagar and somehow with the intuitive realisation that I had embarked on the last chapter of my life.

The last six years have been the most rewarding ones of my life. A barely formulated wish of paying back a debt turned into a discovery of India. What began as an effort to give Manu a life with dignity is today a throbbing project where over 500 children reclaim their right to be a child.

It is a matter of utter joy to walk every morning and be greeted by smiles and laughter filled ‘ morning ma’am’, when each child tries to get one’s attention. It is a matter of outright joy to see my staff dressed in their smartest outfit bustling around efficiently redeeming their lost identity. And above all its is a matter unqualified pride to see Manu smartly dressed sitting with his pals and solving a puzzle. And to say that just six years ago I sat in front of our one room centre trying to rid him of the maggots that infested his much abused body.

A deep sense of peace fills me as I relive these last six years, but I cannot allow myself to sink into a comfort zone, there is still so much to do. Pwhy is still a six year old child that needs to learn to survive independently.

And if I allow myself to dream about the future I see the November when pwhy will be sustained by the community itself, run by some of our ex students, the day when Manu will proudly show his identity papers as he sits in his own kiosk, earning his living with the help of his spirited younger sister.

That day I will allow myself to retreat into a comfort zone.

So help me God of the lesser ones!

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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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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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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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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

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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When I look at little Komal who can barely see or hear, I wonder how long it will take her to learn the value of words.

I am sick and tired of words: words of praise, words of anger, words that hurt, words that hang without meaning, words that vanish into thin air as they are uttered.

Someone said: Words should be used as tools of communication and not as a substitute for action”.

Frankly I have started to doubt everything I hear. My inbox is filled with words that remained words for as soon as they need to be translated into action, a myriad of reasons spring from nowhere as grim deterrents. The one reason that seems to always be at forefront is mistrust.

It is a sad reflection of our society that we are ready to mistrust everyone and everything. We stop looking with our own eyes, be they that of the heart or that of reason, and conveniently apply the a foregone conclusion. So even if you have shown staying power of over six years and adequate results, helped children stay in school and repaired broken hearts, you are still not be trusted. And why should you, everyone around is screaming the contrary, be it our rulers or our peers.

A quirk of fate has suspended one of our main accounts, and it is strange that rather than fight it tooth and nail which is what I would have done barely a few months ago, I have almost welcomed it. It has enabled me to put my team to the test and find out whether they have understood that you have to fight for your right and prove yourself. No remuneration for the past two months and a challenge thrown to them of meeting half the running cost if they want me to check back in again or they risk having their sections closed down.

Much as the story of the wolf that never was till the day it actually came and no one turned up, it has taken them some time to realise that unlike the past, this time it was for real.

Unless everyone realised that they are responsible for what happens around them, change can never come. So shock therapy is sometimes needed.

What will be the outcome only time will tell. The worst case scenario is another trip to the labour court aptly prompted by hidden enemies, but how has always become used to it, the best is my team taking on the responsibility of collecting funds and moving out of their torpor.

I wait and watch from the wings, a sometimes amused smile on my face..

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deepak came visiting to show off his two brand new teeth! he even smiled and played with us. This brave little fellow has kept his side of the deal: he survived a code blue and even though his broken heart stopped beating, he willed to beat again; he patiently waited that adults finish their strikes and protests and in the bargain got a huge abdominal abscess that took a month to heal. he met all milestones and even produced two teeth at the right time and even had an angiography that now has to be redone. He tries to eat though it is not easy, and he is hanging on waiting for the rest to fall in line.

It is sad that children have to suffer because of reasons that they cannot comprehend or control. On the 26 he will undergo another angio and if all goes well will finally get the surgery he urgently needs.

Let us hope that this one will be the good one…

Distance makes the heart grow fonder says the jaded quotation. Most of us have at one time or the other used it.

Six long years trying to keep project why alive my way, has given a new connotation to these very words. We could also use Mark Twain’s Familiarity breeds contempt to describe the bittersweet reality that has been vindicated day after day.

In our quest for support we have been overwhelmed by the spontaneity of people living across the world, who have an may never drop by our planet but who somehow have understood its spirit. So be it the tiny amount sent by a student pining for home comfort food, or the generous gift of a well settled professional who feels that it is a way to pay back; be it the impromptu offer to volunteer of young people from different lands or the long plane hours taken to come by and write about us, it is the effort of those who are faraway that has sustained us till now.

The rupee a day option was designed for two reasons, one for each side of the spectrum. It was something even the poorest could spare and join the rank of donors and on the other hand something which I felt would allay the worst cynic who view everything with suspicion even if they have known you for donkey’s years. If some head way was achieved in the first case, then in the second the distance between hand and wallet still needs to be covered.

Another high road to bewalked

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Have not written about mr. p for a long time. well it is said that no news is good news. he is doing great in school and his mom is doing great at the rehab centre.

His surrogate dad has been lurking around, trying to find the right excuse to scrounge a few pennies for his next drink. Needless to say that at this moment in time my detractors are having a field day filling his fuzzy inebriated head with vile ways on how to extort some money. I know that there is nothing he can do apart having nuisance value that can be easily dealt with.

But something stops me each time I think of dealing with this problem.

Moliere the French playwright wrote: It is not only for what we do that we are held responsible, but also for what we do not do. These words keep flashing in my mind and it took me a while to understand why.

N is a drunk, but he is also the only father figure mr p has known. I cannot forget the special bond the two had and the genuine love mr p felt for this man. I cannot set aside the fact that in spite of everything he is the one who gave the stability of a home, no matter how erratic, to this child for the first 4 years of his life.

One day when mr p grows up and when I am not around, he may ask himself or others why I did not help his father. That day I do not want to have to fall in his eyes so it becomes incumbent for me to try my very best and do something for N. I may not succeed, but a least I would have acted and done my best and would be able to look into mr p’s eyes and say “I tried”!

This evening the now famous trio of maamji, radhey and amit bhaya will take N to a AA meeting, the same road that I took with mrp’s mom four months ago.

This is the only honorable things to do.

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Kiran and Komal are sisters. One is 6 and the other 16 days! Kiran was born on the day pwhy took off on its maiden flight. It was a time of dreams and visions, of hope and determination. It was also a time when we believed that good will prevail, that people will understand and take their lives in their own hands..

We kept on dreaming though at times the dreams seemed sated, but we held on to them trying one option after the other, battling enemies we could not have conjured, even in our wildest fantasy. There were some dreams that came true: children stopped dropping out of school, we repaired a few broken hearts, and above all we found well wishers all over the world. But somehow the bad outdid the good and we realised that our main dream – that of sustaining the project from within the community – turned into a nightmare. Surreptiously we found ourselves dragged into the usual you give, I take; you provide, I receive, moving into a state of immobility.

Just as Kiran had heralded hope, Komal seemed to have a different role. Her little dark face and protruding tongue reminded one of Kali, the goddess who destroys evil and protects those who seek her. Was there a message that one had to take stock, redefine our dreams and start once again..

Who knows?

Welcome to planetwhy Komal.

The results of a recent survey indicates that India is the sixth most dangerous country in the world. Afghanistan, Palestinian territories, Myanmar and Chechnya were placed better than India.

Many will and even are contesting these results, and even if we do better, there is much that is not the way it should be on planetIndia!

The first thing that caught my attention as this news was being aired and commented upon was the fact the welfare ministry would be consulting the labour ministry to determine what a child is! The UN convention says 18 and below, our labour ministry says 14 and below, rape laws say 16 and below… now if we were to go by the UN then we are talking of 42% of our population, unfortunately only very few are voters!

The factors that were given were physical violence of any kind (outside or within the family); mental violence; displacement; sexual abuse and trafficking; early marriage; child labour; a lack of formal identity, including birth registration; the absence of parental care; detention without sufficient cause; a lack of freedom of expression; discrimination on the basis of gender, ethnicity or disability; poverty; HIV/AIDS and other diseases; a lack of vital services (including education and health care)

When i look around me, at the kids of pwhy many of the above factors fit like a glove. So whether we are 6th or 66th, Indian children are not given their basic rights. And those who try and do something are hounded and harassed till they give up. the laws that are made for them, are often eyewash, as no proper roadmap is made let alone followed.

So where is the solution one may ask? Well like for everything else I believe it has to come one step at a time from the grassroots by creating simple models that raise awareness and make people responsible.

Seems like our law makers and protectors have forgotten the children of India. It is for us to make them remember that they too exist. It is time to take a serious look at them and do something.

And the combat ceased, for want of combatants.
Le Cid (IV, 3).

These words from a play long forgotten sprung to my mind this morning. Live every child put through the French system. Corneille is a must and often the play selected is Le Cid, where a tragic hero finds himself caught between his love and his duty as a result of a series of events outside his control. One is reminded of the doubting Arjuna in the beginning of the Mahabharata.

Both are compelled to follow their duty and fight someone dear. In the case of the French hero, the battle ends as for want of combatants!

I find myself in much in a similar situation where a series of events seem to have snowballed pushing me inside a labyrinth I cannot find the exit of. What makes it worse is that the enemy is invisible but powerful using simple minds as Machiavellian weapons.

Nowhere does the law say that one cannot terminate someone’s service. There must be hordes of people having lost jobs for various reasons, and none of them seem to have been meat for shady Trade Unions as these as well as the labour inspectors are well fed by factory owners and other employers who break every law with impunity.

I find it strange that a tiny organisation, who pays minimum wages as per law, and goes beyond what is expected to be present when people are in need, finds itself accused of vile and reprehensible things at every step. How can we be a danger to anyone, or are politicians and slum lords scared of the awareness we spread?

From providing women, to pocketing funds, I have done it all. I wish I had the wisdom and the ability to laugh it off, but pwhy is a child I have created with love and hardwork, possibly the best things i have done in my life, and I cannot distance myself.

Sometimes I think of locking it up but I know that this is exactly what my detractors want. But when I imagine, even for an instant, pwhy closed I realise that it will mean shattering many dreams, dreams you see in the picture above: young girls will drop out of school, babies will be back on the street, manu will not have any playmates, nasreen will not be able to dance to celebrate Independence day, and young Sunil will have to beat iron all his life.

Many may say: so what, there are millions like them ? My answer is simply, yes but if millions like us took the first step then things may change. Some of my staff, feeling extremely dejected this morning, asked me why were such things happening. I just answered that it was simply a micro reflection of the macro reality of India, and it was imperative to set the micros right so that the macro can change.

Our battle cannot cease, we are its combatants and everyone who has believed and supported us. If it ceases, that it mean that there is no hope for a better tomorrow. The enemy has to be worn down and won over. And if you ask why, then my answer is simple: Manu cannot go back to begging on the streets, his body infested by maggots, Nasreen has to dance at every celebration and Sunil must have a choice in life.

This combat will continue, even it there is only one combatant.

I often wonder who are the present heroes that the children of India can look up to and want to model one’s self on. The ones that are often cited are jaded or otherworldly.

We live in times when all we hear about is violence steeped in the widest variety of sauces. Our so called leaders are busy fulfilling their dubious agendas, or filing their pockets, their bureaucratic acolytes in tow.

People are murdered in crowded rooms but the state prosecutor cannot find a witness as the so called guardians a law are busy perfecting the art of covering up.

When we were young there were many we wanted to emulate: our teachers, often being the first choice. Today students beat up teachers to death in public, and no one stands up for a dead colleague. This is the India we live in, one where everyone runs scared.. or almost every one as when you are about to give up all hope comes by a simple faceless Indian, a barely literate peon who rises above everyone and conquers his fear and does the right thing though he knows that he may lose his life.

Komal Singh Senger a peon in the college where the sordid incident took place did not succumb to fear and came out to tell the truth and identify the culprits. he is of course stunned by the inertia of his senior educated colleagues and says: Because they have lost all integrity. It’s a shame that they continue in this profession, all of them should be shifted out everybody should be shifted out. Everybody from the Principal to the entire college staff who are scared to speak. If they cannot speak out for their own colleague, there is no doubt that no one will protect me either.he goes a step further when refusing monetary sops to buy his silence he adds: Yes, I was offered money. They said they would marry off my daughters and bear the expenses. But I don’t care. They will get married when the time is right. I did not give birth to them thinking that such people would relieve me of my responsibilities. Why should I take money from them?

It is true that he has been given police protection but we all know the strength of two constables in the face of those who are trying to protect the culprits. One can only hope that this true Indian will be protected. It becomes incumbent on all self respecting Indians to ensure his safety. Were anything to happen to him than all that is honourable and good would be lost forever and we would become a land of people ruled by fear.

Sengar is someone that every child should know about as he vindicates the stand that integrity and righteousness does not come with money or power, but lies within everyone irrespective of his origin. he is a man who could not see injustice and stood by what he believed to be right.

We salute Komal Sigh Senger, a true Indian!

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The picture is a little hazy, just like the dreams these kids dare to dream…maybe it is better that way.

These are children celebrating Independence day 2006. It was their decision, their planning and they even invited to local SHO, Mr Khan who always makes it a point to come.
They sang patriotic songs and spoke about freedom and what it meant to them. It is with pride that they hoisted the national tricolour and saluted it, their eyes looking up with hope and barely formulated dreams.

Most of them are OBCs or belong to some reserved category and yet not one of them knows it, let alone what it means and how it can change their lives. Most of them did not even go to school when pwhy decided to clean up a garbage dump and start its work. Today most of them have integrated school and some even topped their class. Suddenly the dreams seem less hazy.. or so they believe with their tiny hearts..

When I see these kids and realise how they trust us, I am at a total loss. The reality that they will grow up to seems bleak if not black! The protection that was so carefully crafted by those who wrote our constitution got hijacked without their knowledge and remodelled to suit other interests by the very people who should have guarded them. These kids will have their dreams shattered one by one at some stage or the other, it is is just a calamity waiting to happen.

As I watched students being doused by water guns in one of the anti quota rallies, I somehow felt that they may not have protested had children like the ones in the picture been the beneficiaries. But to reach that door, they have to walk passed many that still remain shut. The portals of the primary schools, the gates of the secondary one and then the entrance to higher education.

One does not need to be a rocket scientist to see the game Machiavellian game being played. The vested interests will ensure the loyalty of their vote banks while also perpetrating their illiteracy and hence their manipulability and all will be well in independent India where children of lesser gods have no voice.

I wonder what those like Gandhi or even simple people like my mother, who decided not to marry unless her land was free so that her child would not be a slave to the British would say?

Sixty years down the line, Indian children are still slaves: slaves to the greed of others, slaves to hidden agendas and much more. The Right to Education Bill lies unattended, dismissed, sent off to states whereas the bill to raise MPs was passed without a murmur.

That is the state of India, a tale of unkept and hijacked promises

A well rated TV channel has been airing dramatic pictures of instances of child labour, and we all agree that child labour should be banned as it goes against the essence of human dignity.

Then why have I been so disturbed by some of the stories and in particular the one of the little Mania?

This little child has nowhere to go if he stops working at his dhaba. His whole world will crash. His huge deformity will bring endless taunts and without his work he will have no shelter, no food and not even his surrogate family.

There are many many Manias who will suddenly find themselves alone and lost. Mania did want to study but circumstances shattered his dreams and though he has a right to education enshrined in a constitutional amendement, the law executors cannot find the money to make sure it gets to the likes of him.

True child labour should be abolished, but what are you going to replace it with particularly for children who have no homes to go back to, or whose parents can barely feed the siblings that are still there.

My work on the field for the last six years has taught me that things are not quite how they look and making laws without keeping the human factor in mind is more dangerous than the prevalent situation, however abysmal. Kids like mania will roam streets, steal to feed their hunger pangs and then find themselves branded as thiefs or bad elements. The number of working children is staggering, and a month down the line when the ban comes in force they will have nowhere to go.

Has anyone thought of mechanisms to get them back home, if home they have, or to give them a safe shelter and three meals a day; are there schools where they can learn or does the powers that be expect small organisations to do the job while they bask in the glory of having passed a great social law. Organisations like us are constantly trying to survive and prove that we are not crooks. But we also are the ones who open our hearts and meagre resources to anyone who is hurting. But how much can we do?

And who will bell the cats a.k.a the professional, well educated, well connected people who employ so many children in their homes and sometimes treat them in disgraceful and terrible ways while nodding their heads in public places and parties while someone disparages the practice of child domestic servants.

And last of all, has anyone looked into the number of little children just a walk away from where we sit comfortably who are taken out of school to look after their siblings while both parents work, maybe to build that extra room we need?

mybe little mania will find someone after his national TV debut, but what about the other little manias who can barely comprehend what awaits them.

Away from the petty problems that we are facing with misguided staff and our plethora of ‘well-wishers’, little Deepak fights his valiant battle vindicating thereby the raison d’être of project why.

His journey has not been easy. What should have been a simple heart surgery, turned to be, once again because of external adult games, a battle for life. The wrong doings of a quack lead to his heart stopping and his having to be revived, a true code blue, just as in movies! Then a total strike while he was in hospital resulted in an abdominal abscess that took over a month to heal.

he came visiting today, a little disoriented and very tired, but two days from now he will be admitted again and we hope that the much needed surgery will finally happen.

To me this braveheart’s battle is almost the sign from above that i needed to find in me the strength to carry on. I must confess there are moments when one wonders why one tried to do something positive in a world that abhors people who do so. Why does one have to prove at every turn that one is honest, sincere … Even an accused is presumed innocent till proved guilty, but no so in the case of people just trying to make a difference.

I get emails asking me how does one know whether a person is genuine or fake.. and frankly I do not know the answer. But I know that if I give up then there maybe another deepak somewhere who would lose his battle without a fight.