It’s back.. the smile that kept us going through many ordeals…it’s back after five weeks in hospital wards, and operation theatres and more such places, and even if nanhe is a little tired and a little thinner, the smile is beaming and larger than ever..

You guessed right, nanhe is back in his tiny home, not larger than a dining table but huge when it comes to happy thoughts and positive energies.. True he still needs an operation but that is later..

The few minutes we spent with him and his radiant family were some of the most beautiful ones I have known for long.. Nanhe just hugged me and nodded his head at everything I said; he just had one request: to come back to pwhy! So he will, from Monday onwards..

I sat and watched, through blurred eyes, this brave little family: the mother who never gave up and patiently and tenderly tended to her frail cherub.. Mamta the 16 year old sister who held the fort while mama was away and even ran the vegetable cart.. the bewildered granny who had come from the village to help her brave widowed daughter… what a bautiful picture they made cluttered in the room where there was no place to breathe..

How blessed we were to be with them.. and I am sure Chauncey Olcott & George Graff, Jr. will forgive me if I substitute a few words and share with you their famous song: when Irish eyes are smiling:

You would all agree that terminal examinations are meant to assess performance and help improve the same. You will also agree that an exam has no relevance if marks are not given to the student… well not so in our city….

In December all municipal schools held terminal exams but the children were not given their marks..we needed the marks was to prepare the children for the end of year examinations which are round the corner.. we asked pwhy kids to request the teachers to give them their results.. we were horrified by what ensued..

The children were not given the marks. Two of them were even slapped for having dared ask!

Our staff did a round of the municipal schools our kids attend and except for one girl’s school which extended full cooperation, all others refused.. it was almost as we were asking for state scerets..

The worst experience was in the boys school where Jitendra and Hemraj, the two boys who were slapped study. This temple of learning seems to be set in the dark ages and the teachers out of a sombre dickensian novel. Chaos reigns amidts aggresive behavior and total apathy.. Our little team was treated with contempt and absence of courtesy.. what infuriated them was that no one seemed to comprehend why one was asking for marks.. Jitendra, a good student, was dismissed as a worthless one, defying all principles of basic child psychology…

The school was filthy and as teachers chatted in a group, children were busy fighting and using bad language.. the whole atmosphere was one of belligerence..

A perfect place to learn bad language, aggressive behavior and bad ways.. so why wonder when children from slums turn out the way they are..

The most important element in the adventure call learning is the teacher.. this is something that our law makers and leaders should understand..

When you think nothing can touch or move you, that your heart is safe and well guarded, beware: someone may have other plans for you. It happened to me this morning. This is how:

What made me decide to go fetch K and mr P, I do not know.. what made me say ‘yes’ to their desire to stop by a children’s park, I cannot say.. nevertheless I found myself in the GK II Park and that is when Chottey Lal came into my life..

Many of you have seen the khilona wallah, our very own toy vendor who ambulates in residential areas selling a medley of plastic toys.. or at least heard the strident whistle that often jars a lazy afternoon.. and most of our kids have, in spite of all the Mattels in the house, egged you on to buy the plastic wonders.. well as we got off our radheyMobile, a khilone wallah pased by and my bacchas wanted one.. I looked up and saw and old man and thought I would make his day by purchasing toys for 100 rs. As the kids were chosing want they wanted, I hear a rasping sound and discovered it was the old man who could barely breathe..

I helped him steady his toypole and would have fallen had Radhey not steadied me… the pole weighed a good 50 kilos far more than the frail man who lugged it.. what would make a man do this..

As Chottey Lal shared his story, I could not stop the tears from falling.. Chottey Lal was born in Lahore, his father was a kotwal. The family moved to Aligarh.. he reminisces coming delhi at 15 when the angrez left and worked for 15 years in Teen Murti House, in the times of Panditji.. I listen to him but my mind kept wondering what would make a man like him cart a 50 kilo burden walking miles to eek a few rupees..

My heart went out to him as I saw his wrinkle ridden face, emanciated body covered in layers of non-descript clothing, a whistle hanging on his chest.. we sat over a cup of tea as he shared his life: his son had job but not enough to feed the little family and he did what he felt he should.. for his grandchildren and others. He made 40 rupees on a good day, enough to meet the evening meal… I sensed his whole being straighten up when he rasped that he had never asked for help.. and I did believe him.. honesty oozed out of every pore.. I asked him how I could help, and his answer made my world stop: “just ask the gurdwara to allow me to stand there and sell my wares; a few days back they shunted me away and hit me”. He rolled up his trousers and showed me the barely healed wound.. I asked him if he has eaten and whether he carried any food. Chottey Lal proudly fished out a tiny packet of biscuits and a shrivelled orange.

We sat down to share a cup of tea and some bread.. By this time I knew that this morning my good friend the god of lesser beings had probably decided that Chottey lal’s days of carrying his burden were over. I had to find a way for him to retain his dignity and get his 40 rs a day!

We took Chottey lal home and met the family.. his son who earns 1500 rs a month as a courier boy – half the minimum wage – told us that his father would not listen to them. Everyone was extremely concerned but I smiled as I understood the stubborn little big man.. we agreed that he would sell his toys comfortably seated close to his home, and that he would get his 40rs a day for coming once a week and telling stories of the past to pwhy kids. Stories so precious and now so rare..

Chottey Lal is the best you can find in India, a man that should be an example to all those who want to live life the easy way..

I salute this larger than life toyMan

Note: I may start a new blog with chottey lal’s stories

There is another smile that lit planet why for the past 6 months, a smile that conveyed warmth, compassion and befitted the spirit of pwhy!

Sophie came to us last summer and immediately became one of us.. so much so that we almost took her for granted.. not only did she reach out to the children and brought them wondrous experiences, but she was there whenever we needed her. Her numerous skills helped us in so many ways: she was our lenswoman, our chief decorator, our graphic artist and much more..

When Babli was to be operated, Sophie and her friend Gary were by her side and made a complex heart surgery seem easy and simple..

To me, she was the one I reached out to in moments of doubt and angst.. and she gently steered me back on course.. and gave my sometimes flinching courage the fillip it needed..

We got used to that smile and somehow made it ours, and when she flies out next week, that smile will be in our custody till she returns…

all of us at project why will miss Sopi Didi

For 28 days nanhe has kept his smile going.. through pain, humiliating investigations and now invasive surgery which has wreaked his exhausted body.. with tubes and drains hanging and the discomfort of bedsores, nanhe still smiles on..

True his smile is a little slower to light his pain ridden face, but it does each time anyone he cares for walks into the room.. telling us to hold on and not give.. as we are not home yet.. another major surgery to deal with his kidneys await and only then will he be able to come back to us..

It is amazing how much a smile can convey.. nanhe’ smile reveals the spirit of this brave child and holds many silent lessons.. it is for us to heed them..

Kim smiling valiant child, we need you more than you can imagine

All year long we celebrate innumerable festivals.. many are religious… some social… we wish each other diwali and xmas, eid and pongal amd freindship day and mother’s day… often not quite knowing what each of them signifies..

Today is R Day.. often viewed as a day of parades and traffic restrictions, of closed shops and extra security measures.. of jaded school functions where the essential is absent.. but let us take a moment and think about what we celebrate today.. the coming into force of our Constitution..

Most of us may not realise how important this is. But it is this text that guarantees each and every Indian freedom and the right to live with dignity…

We, the people of India, having solemnly resolved to constitute India into a Sovereign socialist secular democratic republic and to secure to all its citizens :
Justice, social, economic and political;
Liberty of thought, expression, belief, faith and worship;
Equality of status and of opportunity;
and to promote among them all fraternity assuring the dignity of the individual and the unity and integrity of the Nation

Every child of India has a right to know its constitutional rights and his duties.. and made aware of the responsibility he carries.. every child of India has to be made aware of his place in the democratic pattern, has to learn the fact all Indians have one vote, no matter who they are.. has to be made aware of the freedom he enjoys and the duties that ensue. Hence freedom of movement allows him to relocate – something a country like France does not permit – but he also has to understand that relocation means sharing already limited resources and therefore respecting them.. Freedom of religion also means accepting the other one’s beliefs.. Every child of India has to know that he has a right to education, one that the state must guarantee..

We all aspire for a better tomorrow individually and collectively, a better tomorrow for every Indian as only when that hapens, will our country truly wake up.. and if education is the way, then education needs to include making children aware of their true identity as citizens of India.. as only then will they be able to fulfill their dreams…

happy R day!

here is the latest picture of our very own babli from bed no 6, ward no 2… quite a star she is as she puts on a million dollar smile in spite of pain and a swollen eye! so little babli has a brand new heart… it took some effort that began when mr never say die a.k.a sitaram brought her to pwhy and ended with the great supportBabli team – inumerable friends and well wishers from the world over – at work!

across the road in ward no 19 of another hopsital, Nanhe is rid of the terrible pain that lost the valiant battle against the now famous never say die smile, a smile that helped us through the long journey to get Nanhe his much needed operation..

and this was the smile we were treated to a few moments before he was taken to surgery..

babli aur nanhe are today on the way to recovery, but they have also spearheaded a new mission for project why: that of helping children in need of life saving interventions.. and this could only have been possible without of one invisible hero… our very own sitaram.

Little Chetna is Nanhe’s roomie.. she is two months old and has a hole in her heart that requires surgery.. the family is not rich and the mother bears the stigma of having lost her first daughter and produced another defective one.. everything seems to conspire against this little child.. almost as if the large sum required would be a bad investment..

As I looked into her huge black eyes, all I saw was a tiny little heart beating as best it could to infuse life into this beautiful child… the conclusion was foregone.. something had to be done, and in spite of the many questions that would be raised by detractors and friends, I knew almost intuitively that my friend, the god of lesser beings, was at work again.. and the slight hesitation that was about to cross my mind was set to rest there and then as the incredible Sitaram had taken the lead and was asking for referreal papers and contact numbers..

team pwhy on standby for Babli, had its next mission charted out.. and before I could say anything operation Chetna had begun imbued with a life of its own.. another miracle was in the offing…

Somehow this was a special moment in the life of pwhy, one that proved that we had come a long way as the lead to save Chetna was taken by he humblest son of India… one who was also repaying a debt!

For me it was a moment of quiet celebration…

nanhe’s operation is still uncertain.. and it is now his 20th day in the hospital.. but believe me ward no 18 is a happy place.. and almost a family ..

there is puja who has a tumour in her abdomen, and vishal who has high fever, and vijay who suffers copper toxicity and has lost the use of his limbs and ritu who has water in her lungs..
they come from different places but all have one thing in common: a smile and a will to beat the ailment and live..

and today, as nanhe slept.. I discovered his little world!

Because of your smile.. you make life more beautiful... Thich Nhat Hanh

This simple quote by a vietnamese monk sums up nanhe’s mission on planet earth.. many of you have fallen in love with his smile and his incredible courage..

I must confess there are some who have, albeit in veiled words, wondered why we are putting up such a fight for one like nanhe..

Long ago, a friend had told me that special children come on this earth with a mission many fail to recognise.. they come to make us better people, to help us get to that part of us we are unaware of.. to help us learn to look at the small things that matter most and that we often pass by.. and maybe to show us the way when all seems lost..

I am amazed at the number of friends who have rallied around nanhe, the incredible love he has managed to awaken in so many people..

And to those who wonder why we are fighting for nanhe, let me say it is simply because he makes life more beautiful

...and if at any time you feel like there is no hope, think of me sitting 10000 miles away not giving up on him! Also, if there is anything that needs to be done (absolutely anything!) and is stopped because of lack of funds, let me know immedietely…..I will raise funds for him

Our prayers are with Nanhe, god can’t snatch away his gorgeous smile… I’m praying really hard…

we are all praying for him… I am confident it will work!!

These are just a few of the messages that dropped in my mail box moments after friends heard that nanhe’s smile was in danger.. he was to be operated upon but an erratic blood pressure and low blood count made the doctors postpone surgery to next week..

For seventenn long nights and as many long days, nanhe has held on to his smile.. as you can see in the picture taken a few hours ago.. he has kept his part of the deal.. we are the ones that have not..

He has kept smiling in spite of excruciating pain, humiliating invasive tests, innumerable jabs and pokes.. telling us silently, in his inimitable way, that he was willing to fight with us… and we cannot give up…

I hope someone is listening….

Many of you have shared with us babli’s tryst with life.. this little woman of substance is a true braveheart…

Till now, for babli the ‘surgery’ had been something everyone talked about, something vague that the poor child had no way of imagining. She used to say with her perky smile and bright eyes that she was not afraid.

But now it is real and it was heart wrenching to see how hard she tried to put up a brave face when faced with the the complex machines and the men in white. You could see fear in her eyes though she tried her best to overcome it..

When I finally met her after the ordeal of her angiograpahy as she lay on a stretcher in the dark corridor of the hospital ward, visibly in pain, she jumped up and greeted me with her ususal ‘hello ma’am’… her eyes filled with trust and hope..

babli is now back with us at project why and we await the surgery date…

“I know that I can donate to the organization through the website, but I would prefer to sponsor one child’s education completely” was what was written in a mail that dropped in my box this morning. It came from an Indian living abroad.

I often get request like this and I reply to them individually.. some undesrtand , others never write back. This time I thought it would be better to address the ‘sponsorship’ issue in an open post.

I do not know when ‘sponsoring children’ became a fashionable option in the ever growing charity business.. and many moons ago, when I had not started work on the field, it seemed acceptable..

Today it is something that I find difficult to accept, and even though I know it closes many doors to me, I find it not in tune with the project why spirit.

I will try and explain why…

Project why’s main trust is to empower people to take on the reins of their lives, and stand on their own.. and singling out one child is a sure of way of marginalising her or him. For us all the children are the same and they all the deserve the best… and as we hope one day to have the community itself steer the project by pooling resources, the idea of sponsored kids does not work.

Then, project why being a support education system, cannot ensure that a child will remain with us for a given time. His parents may leave the area, or the city… or some other case of force majeure may lead to them leaving..

What we seek is support to continue our work which extends far beyond simple education. In empowering a community you must gain its trust and reach out whenever a problem arises. Only then will people accept your ideas and your suggestions. A simple school certificate that can be obtained with a mere 33% , is not what will change India.They are larger issues that need to be addressed.

We do understand that donors want to know where ‘their money goes‘. That is why we set ot what we call an adoption plan for want of a better word, and hence a donor can chose a group of kids, and we then provide information about the group.

That is one end of the story, but there is a more disturbing one. Why is it that we give more easily when there is heart wrenching story, a terrible calamity, a face to relate to.. is it not much more because of some inadequacy in us… lack of trust in the other, some innate fear..

When we launched our one rupee programme, it was with the idea of blurring the great donor-recipient divide, to make everyone a potential donor.. and we still believe that it will happen some day, as that is the only long term option to sustain such efforts.. till then we hope tat those of you who think we are doing something worthwhile will continue believing in us!

Yesterday was eid.. some celebrated it, others enjoyed a holiday…certainly if they were government employees..

Normally on holidays OPD halls in government hospitals lie empty and bare.. but not quite.. two young doctors decided otherwise in the cardio thoracic centre of AIIMS and that is how little Babli and around a dozen little kids got their pre-op checks done in princely style. No queues, no waiting between test, so off you went from the phsyical check up, to the Xray departement, to the ECG room.. all in record time. simply because two young doctors, who have nothing to gain, decided that kids hsould get a better deal..

This morning, Babli will be first in the line for her angiograph.. thanks to two young indian with a heart

Oh darling, yeh also hei India

Many of you have reacted with spontaneity to some of the human problems that I write about..and some of you have suggested solutions that seem plausible and humane.. these are the very solutions that used to come up to my mind when I began my work.. but most of them had to be reviewed and corrected as one discovered the reality of India and life in urban slums..

What was important was to define what one aimed at: short term patch up options that satisfied one’s own conscience, or long term solutions that may seem harsh in the beginning but could sow the first seeds of long term changes..

We opted for the latter..

Let me share some of the unimaginable situations that we have had to deal with.

What do you do when a severly malnutrioned mother tells you that they do not eat left overs!

What do you do when clothes you have given are not put on the child because the local soothsayer tells the parent that the child’s ailment is due to her wearing given garments that have spells acst into them..

What do you tell a woman who defends a drunkard husband who beat her and her children…

How do you fight the local quack or the local money lender who lends at 10% a month!!

How do you fight the need to impress which makes people buy a TV but not food…

How do you fight the stranglehold of religious diktats where enormous amounts of money are spent to fulfill the hunger of the Gods, where milk and fruits are bought for a stone deity but not for a little child..

What do you say to someone you want to help when he says that he is happy with his pathetic life because his employer gives him the timely carrot..

Hopeless.. one may say.. not quite. There is a way, albeit a slow one.

We chose to walk that path at pwhy. It entails getting the confidence of those you work with and slowly setting small examples. What you have to keep in mind is the long term objective.

One has to remember that one is fighting with age old traditions, outdated mores, atavistic feudal attitudes that will take time. Mothers are always a good starting point and children the real strength. You have to play a judicious game of slow empowerment, where you demistify existing values and slowly introduce new ones..

In city that are bursting at the seams and are real tinder boxes, the message you have to send is that the future lies back home, in the villages and smaller town; start telling the children that all the skills and knowledge they acquire should be taken back. Each problem you encounter should become a larger lesson..

And then you know you are on the right path when a Vicky tells you: I will go back and set up a pwhy in my village in Bihar..

The road is long but it is the right one…

Oh darling yeh hai India!

Delhi woke up to its coldest day in 70 years.. it was 0.2 degree celsius.. later that day came an announcement: all primary schools would be closed for two days..

Easy said, easy done… great idea, the kids can remain warm at home.. is what one would logically think from the comfort of our homes..

But what about children whose home is a tiny chilly dark hole…whose parents both leave for work as the evening meal depends on that..

What about the children whose hot meal is the one they get in school..

Will closing the school keep these kids warm, fed and safe…

One of the reasons why we decided on the very first day we began our work to keep our centre open on holidays was that those were the days where the children needed us most, as they hung around unsafe streets, and had no one to look after them or feed them..

Remember there are 1.7 million such children in our city…

Note: as I had anticipated many little girls (morning shift) turned up to an empty school to be sent back in many cases to a locked home!

R in his lasted blog mentions a touching letter written by a father after the loss of his son in battle. In his trying to define what makes a true hero, this grieving father writes the following:

But even more, being a hero comes from respecting your parents and all others, from helping your neighbors and strangers, from loving your spouse, your children, your neighbors and your enemies, from honesty and integrity, from knowing when to fight and when to walk away, and from understanding and respecting the differences among the people of the world.”

OIne wonders if such heroes exist… they do.. one just has to know how to recognise them as they often remain invisible, and melt away in the background, or are simply taken for granted..

We have one such person…

Sitaram came to us a couple of years back when he was desperately seeking funds to get his son Raju a much needed heart surgery.. there was something poignant about this gentle man, who hobbled on a stick having suffered a stroke and who was willing to give everything he had to save his ailing son.. We could not remain silent spectators and we found the funds and Raju was operated upon. He is now back in school and will be going to class VI..

Normally people helped are grateful.. but Sitaram’s debt of gratitude was of another kind. He soon started ferrying children in a cart, that became our famous why-on-wheels, but it is just today that I realise how much more Sitaram has done with utmost discretion and compassion..

Babli and Nanhe are both children that Sitaram brought to project why.. as well as Munna and many other children in need of our help.. He took upon him to get Babli’s first check ups and thus ensure that she get the much needed operation.. Each time a problem occurs, he is always the first one to offer help, no matter how back breaking the task..

But there is another side to his compassion, one that often goes unnoticed.. a few days back when he was a little delayed for his afternoon shift, we were surprised to learn that he had taken a little time off to go visit Nanhe in hospital… something no other staff member had yet done..

Sitaram once was a man running a little tea stall. His son’s heart condition compelled him to leave the confines of his lane and come into contact with the big bad world as he ran for over a year looking for help ; what he found was false promises and humiliations..as he knocked every imaginable door.. even that of the First Citizen.

So when help came, for Sitaram it could not end with a thank you.. he intuitively embraced the pwhy spirit and became a silent ambassador, bringing hope in a way so discreet that none of us recognised it..

a true invisible hero

Babli and Nanhe will be operated upon next week… at project why life continues and the beat goes on..

Little Manoj looks like a garden gnome.. he is almost two and cannot stand, his legs not bigger than two sticks.. his bright eyes dart around with intelligence as he tries to follow the others, making sure he is not left out..

His emanciated body is a silent reminder of the everpresent and insiduous ailment that pervades urban slums and attacks children: malnutrition.. a mother who never got what was needed to build sturdy bones and strong muscles… a child fed for far too long on breast milk… store bought goodies that have become the hallmark of urban life: bread and biscuits dipped in weak tea.. no fruits or vegetables… legs that never crawled as there is no space in the dingy homes, let alone the alley in front of the home which often looks like a drain.. and where you breathe the fumes of factories …

Back home in the village there would have been wholesome chappatis, green vegetable, local fruit and milk, as even the poorest of the poor own at least a goat, and grow seasonal vegatables… there would have been clean water and freah air and space to run in..

Manoj’s mom is a frail undesrnourished 18 year old who does housework and his father works on daily wages in some factory.. they came to seek a better future…

Is an urban slum, in a city where habitat for the poor has simply been forgotten, where employers do not respect the minimum wage laws, where quacks replace doctors, where there is no caring grandmother to share local remedies.. where the man often starts drinking the much needed rupees to ease his frustration… where you find yourself in the stranglehold of the money lender the moment the first problem hits you, a better future..

I wonder…

It is back… the smile that was lost for a while behind a wall of pain is back where it belongs, on nahe’s beautiful face..

Never mind the foot swollen to double its size because of innumerable intravenous feeds, never mind the now forgotten pain and discomfort of an agonising test with a tongue twisting name, Nanhe’s face lit of when we dropped by his ward this afternoon..

His smile brightened the dreary hospital room and warmed the cockles of our hearts.. In his own inimitable way Nanhe made us feel special. This was love in its purest form..

His indomitable spirit reached out with a message of hope and trust…

It was a moving and edifying experience; a silent and eloquent homage to life, as this child who has nothing going his way, reached out to tell us he was doing his bit.. to get better and come back to us..

We had to do ours…

Note: all xrays and other medivcal investigations have been completed. nanhe now awaits surgery.

“I almost always start my day at work by reading the projectwhy blogspot” says a friend in the US.

” I was reading some earlier posts on your blog, as I do when I need inspiration”.. says another one from the other side of the planet in Australia

Project why blogs began at the behest of a friend who believed that the occasional outbursts shared in emails should have a larger audience… I never knew that the words that came out from the depth of my soul would have such an impact.. and once again i am overwhelmed.. but not surprised..

The little moments I share here are not figments of my imagination, they are real and are impregnated with the hopes, the aspirations, the dreams of simple and often invisible people. What makes them a little diferent is that these very real images are viewed by one whose love and faith in India is indubitable, one who believes that every child of the land has the right to a better tomorrow, a right we are the custodians of..

These posts are also my way of reaching out to that part of each one of us that sometimes has been lost in the quagmire of cynicism and mistrust that seems to prevail around us.. a way of showcasing what one does not want to see.. as it disturbs, and awakens a sense of responsibility we are not ready to take on…

How small our problems become in the light of the lives of those portrayed here, how simple it is to be happy and to smile.. and how easy it is to reach out and make another life better..

Simply put these posts are shots of optimism and hope… for those who care to look with their heart!

But beware, the smile you see on this child’s face can become addictive..

Nanhe is in hospital and in pain . I was given a garbled and incoherent report on his condition by those who accompanied him. What I could gather was that he would be in hospital for a long time and that the surgery would take place at a later date..

Government hospitals life Safdurjung give good medical care, but are often very sparse and even brusque when asked to explain a medical condition. This is understandable as not only are they overworked but used to dealing with ‘illiterate’ families..

Now I could not stop at this, and had to find out more.. I did remember seeing on his hospital papers that he had VUR or vesicoureteral reflux . I decided to find out more and, as I set out to do so, I realised once again that as in many other cases, this condition should have been detected early had he had proper peadiatric care. The reality is that a simple condition that could have been redressed at an early stage, has resulted in a severe renal condition that left unattended could have dramatic consequences. The treatment in the early stages is regular and long term medication, in later stages however corrective surgery is required.

We have good medical facilities in the large hospitals of our country, but the tragedy is that lack of education and awareness, as well as harsh living conditions in urban slums, lead to children being neglected and only taken to the right facility when the problem has taken alarming proportions.

One of pwhy’s implicit aim is to see that children get immediate and correct medical help and that parents are made to understand the need and importance of proper medical care. Had Nanhe’s bedwetting and failure to thrive been looked at, maybe a simple course of antibiotics would have sorted the problem, sparing him long years of silent agony and humiliation.

It is sad that whereas people at large react with great generosity to individual cases, we find it difficult to find support for our on going activities, though it is our continued presence on the field that not only helpa us find more nanhes, but allows us get early intervention and increase awareness.

It is the message we are desperately trying to get through..

Note: this picture of nanhe was taken a day before he was admitted. he was very happy with his boxer’s helmet that we bought him to protect his head as he has a tendancy to fall.

People get addicted to many things.. I too have my addiction, one I did not realise till I missed my shot of Nanhe’s smile..

Yesterday for the first time I saw Nanhe in such excrutiating pain, as he clung to his mother and in spite of all his efforts was not able to smile..

He is now admitted to the hospital for the last lap of what has been an extremely long obtsacle race.. but one he runs with rare courage and examplary determination.

Somewhere, within the arachnean boundaries of planet why, lies nanhe’s smile, a smile in custody…

Godspeed Nanhe…

Come January 1.. and we all make resolutions that are often commonly kept.. often because they are made by habit and not conviction..

I too have in the past made many such resolutions.. this year however as I sat down to review the past year and take stock of things, I realised that I had changed many of my ways, quite unconsciously.. I was more patient, less demanding , less obstinate, willing to walk the middle path more often.. and one thing was certain, it was pwhy that had brought this..

Pwhy has been the most rewarding experience in more ways than one.. the love of the children, the incredible support of people, and the little achievements that light up each and every day.. but more than that it has made me discover things about myself, helped me overcome many inhibitions, and I think the greatest one is that of asking for help..

When I look back on the past 5 years I realise that maybe one of the biggest stumbling block has been this very attitude, the result of years of being led to believe that it was not done. So maybe resolution 2006 is to try and rid myself of the last shred of reserve as when I seek help it is for those who no else reaches out to..

So on this first day of the new year, I ask all of you who think that pwhy is worthwhile to walk one extra step and extend your support.

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. (Albert Einstein)

It took me a long time to decide what the post on the last day of 2005 would be, and then I came across this quote that said it all..

On planet why we live life the later way. We have had our share of miracles , big and small, in 2005. So many that I feel overwhelmed: when the tsunami hit our coasts, pwhy kids did the imposible and collected 60 000 rs and bought a small kuppam (fisherman’s village) a fibreglass boat that sails every day bearing the name project why on its hull; Arun got a new heart, the started walking, the children brought us a 100% results

The internet wove its magic and friends appreared from the world over: a raffle was organised in the US, a short story competition took place in the UK, and each time we were in need, invisible angels appeared and pulled us through..

And there is more, Babli’s operation is on the anvil as we have the required funds, and little Nanhe will also be operated upon and have a painfree existence..

The adoption plan we put up is slowly fall in in place and we know that it will happen sooner than later, as so many friends have put us on their sites and blog pages

There were difficult moments… when we discovered Munna’s little family but one phone call later and another angel did the job.. Munna’s family will have a warm new year and take its first steps towards better times…

We had a party hosted by a lady just 8 months old, and a wedding so different from the ones we see.. we even made it to newspapers and had our moment in the sun!

As I write these words I am overwhelmed by the abundance of gifts recieved and somewhat humbled …

To all those who made this possible I would like simply to say: thank you!

Many of us will sit down tomorrow night to usher 2006. There will be lights, and warmth and food and music.. no matter how chilly the night.

In the same city Munna’s little family will sit in the dark, the only light being that of an oil lamp… Munna is 9 and suffers from mental retardation. He has been at project why for a few weeks. He has three younger siblings and brave parents who came to the city, floods having washed away the little land they had. the father earns the princely sum of 1000/rs, and the family lives on that.

The little family juggles with the sum to make both ends meet, so they have decided not to get an electric connection, and when vicky 3 and shakuntala 1 are hungry, the mother breastfeeds them.. Sapna goes to school, and Munna and Vicky come to pwhy. The children have barely any warn clothes, and the mother has none. Despite his limited capacities, Munna is very much the elder brother and in his own endearing way watches over little Vicky and helps his mother as best he can.

We were moved by the quiet dignity we saw in the face of such adversity. There were no complaints, no soliciting for help, on the contrary when ve visited them, we were offered food and tea.. the rules of hospitality were impeccable.

As we left munna’s home many questions came to our mind: how did anyone live in a thousand rupees? How could any employer give a thousand rupees for a day’s work – Munna’s father beats iron for a living -? and above all how could we help them …

The picture shows Nanhe on his nth visit to the hospital. It is no mean task for a child who cannot walk, is incontinent, is in pain and never complains.

For the past two months come monday and the trio of Nanhe, his mom and Meena our staffer, sets off in the cold or rain to the hospital located a few kilometers away. In the afternoon the trio comes back, and whereas the adults frown or complain, Nanhe smiles on.. the scenario is repeated the next friday and so on. Sometimes another test is needed, sometimes an xray has to be redone.. and the date for the much needed surgery to put an end to the excruciating pain of one suffering from multiple calculi seems as elusive as the scarlet pimpernel.

No I should not be complaining. A recent press report revealed that the waiting time for surgery in India’s capital city’s only state hospital for children was four years resulting in parents having to find resources to take their children to private hospitals, here it has only been two months.

Nanhe needs another test that cannot be done in Safdarjung Hopsital. The doctor scribbled a referral on his green card, and the trio set out to AIIMS but to our utter horror no one could figure out what was written. By the time they had finished their rounds in search of information, poor nanhe in tow, public dealing time was up. Come again tomorrow..

Enough is enough, today a senior staffer will go to the hospital and find out the exact name of all the tests required and the name of a private lab that the hospital endorses and we will get all the tests done.

But that is not the answer because every hurting child does not have a pwhy like support. Parents have meagre resources that soon dry out. In a case like Nanhe who cannot travel by bus, each trip is costly and then even caring parents give up on a child who is not even an investment in ones’ future: remember nanhe is severly retarded..

But does one give up on a smile like nanhe’s…

I was extremely saddened and somewhat angry to read this post.
I could feel the palpable angst that permeated each word.. as this lovely child of India questioned her very being..

No child, no one can take away from you the right to love and care for your country whether you wake up in it every morning or miles away in another land, that right is indubitably yours.. what is sad is that many of those who question it with such vehemence are the very ones who have forgotten how to love their land..

No one can stop you from commenting on its faults or praising its achievements as long as your person enough to accept responsibility for what it has become and do what you think is right to change things..

I speak from experience as in the past year I have seen that it is people like you who have come forward to help us make a difference, people whose hearts beats for India even if they are miles away..whereas those who breathe its air, enjoy its resources, live on the fruits of the toil of its humble people have lost the ability to care for it..

You need prove nothing… your words say it all!

Imagine my utter surprise whenI saw my band of galahads march in this morning almost dragging a sullen looking fellow, their captive of the day. I was sson to learn that it was Ramu,
bablis’ famous brother!

They wanted me talk to him and make him understand that he was not to bully his sister.. or beat up or make her do his work.. they were all talking at the same time, but I got the general idea..

Ramu stood sullen anbd I knew I had to play my cards right. He of course denied everything. He was after all a child of urban India slums, where children are always chided and abused and left no alternative but to repeat the pattern with someone younger; where boys are taught to believe that they are of superior mettle and girls inferior.. butI also knew that this young man had had the courage to come and face me..

Babli of course nodded her little head vigourously when asked whether big brother beat her. Now the stage was mine.. I took Ramu’s hand and gently explained to him what having a hole in a heart meant, and then telling him that being a big brother was a privilege and that he was responsible for his two sisters and that I knew that he would care for Babli. Ramu’s hand was still in mine and I felt an almost imperceptible squeeze. I realised that maybe it was the very fisrt time that an adult had spoken kindly to Ramu.

Now it was time to lighten the atmosphere so I asked Ramu what was his dream.. and he whispered – cricketeer – !

We then made a pact that if he would promise to look after Babli then I would see about organising cricket coaching for all pwhy boys. the pact was sealed with a high five and laughter.

It was then phototime and though Babli was all smiles, Ramu still had to play the role of the sullen brother though I think he was smiling inside. My knights in shining armour stood around with huge grins on their face.

Well done boys!

The previous post was about the plight of girls and the unfair treatment they get even in as small an issue as shoes!

The immediate reaction that one has is: why not buy them shoes.. but how many can you buy was my asnwer to a friend who wrote in.. the solution lies in changing age-old mindsets.. impossible would say my detractors.. well not quite..

Many of you know about Babli who needs heart surgery and will soon get her well deserved new ticker.. but I was thrilled today, when my primary boys, some of whom live in the same area as Babli, came to me all excited and told me how they had defended Babli and even slapped her elder brother..

I calm them down and asked them to tell me what happened. Apparently Babli’s older brother Ramu excpets his sister to fecth and carry for him and often ill treats and even beats her. Now my little knights in shining armour took up her defense and tried to explain to Ramu that Babli’s health was fragile and that she had to be cared for.. when he carried on abusing her they slapped him and told him that they wold be watching him..

Maybe the methods used by Raju and the gang was not quite what one would condone, I must confess that I was quite thrilled, and though I mouthed the required reprimand, my eyes were filled with pride…

This is not a summer footwear display… but the neatly lined up shoes of our primary girls at giri nagar on a chilly winter afternoon…

when most of us have different shoes for different seasons, the children in delhi slums are lucky if they have any footwear at all.. and rubber chappals are sturdier than the cardboard soled shoes that are sold on weekly marts and that do not withstand a puddle let alone rain!

winter wear is expensive, takes a long time to dry when washed and when you need to multiply it by the number of children you have, finances goe awry.. so it is often the male child who dons shoes whereas the little girls just have chappals… and one must not forget that an open shoe lasts longer, and can be worn even if the foot sticks out both end..

so here again girls are children of a lesser god…

it was a chilly afternoon as we set out to vist nanhe’s home. we needed to assess the situation and see what was needed to make his return from hospital as comfortable as possible. we locate his mother’s cart and she guided us to her home. we had expected a small jhuggi but this was more like a box where a cot took almost all the place – remember five people lived here, nanhe being the youngest – the place was as tidy as such a place can be, with a small electric stove and all that was essential to subsist. we made a mental note of what would be needed as we sat on the cot..

the dampness of the tiny room made the cold even more biting and quite honestly we were hoping for a cup of tea.. nanhe’s mom had scurried out we thought to get some milk.. we were taken a back when she returned with bottles of pepsi… and looked at each other in dispair.. knowing that we would have to gulp the chilled bottles seeped in the gratitude and love of this brave mother who probably felt thata mundane cup of tea was not god enough for us..

well you see this was urban india and nanhe’s mom had to show that she had learnt urban ways.. in her village we would have probably been given sweet and hot tea..

we drank the urban treat as refusing it would have been hurting her feelings..

Oh darling yeh hai India..

Wonder who this is…

This is our little babli’s family… her father and her little sister.. the ones she has to mother despite a hole in her heart..

But there are no options.. babli’s father who is 35 years older than her mom, is asthmatic and cannot work.. or does not want to. Santosha her mom slogs in a factory for long hours and babli is the one who takes charge of things at home.. True she is not the eldest child. She has a big brother but then he is a boy and enjoys certain privileges: he can play with friends and go to school, in a nutshell be a child..

This is the plight of many little girls who are deprived of their childhood by the realities of life in urban slums where there no extended families. The fact that babli has a severe heart condition makes the matter just that more poignant…

read more about babli:
babli’s world
babli.. a tiny woman of substance
Life on the planet is born of woman
let alone she may die

nanhe’s smile has moved many friends.. and yes he is an amazing child and we are very blessed to have him with us.

He has showed us the true meaning of hope and more than that his love for life does makes us all wonder about the total emptiness of our own lives…

I have often wondered why God, if there si one, sends such souls into this world.. many answers come to my mind but above all I feel that somehow these lovely children who bear their suffering with such dignity are there to help us unearth parts of us which seem to have got lost in the recess of our minds and souls…

The smile in the picture was nanhe’s way of telling me this morning as he set out for another series of painful tests, that all was well on planet earth and that he was ready to take on the day with courage.. his way of requesting me and others like me, not to pity him or feel sorry..

Ever since we began our work, it is the children of the special section who have given me the strength and the determination to carry on, no matter what.. they have been beacons of light and proved that no situation was ever desperate enough to want to give up. This motley crowd of simple souls with different abilities are examples of compassion, acceptance, cooperation and love.. a true celebration of diference..

How small we feel compared to them…

In our fight for survival, we put up an adoption plan whereby we seek kind hearts to ‘adopt’ the nine sections which make pwhy, each with its dreams, its hopes, its aspirations…

I have many times, maybe even too many for some, shared my own dreams for pwhy. I try with passion to defend its very spirit which can be summed up in the words: a mater of the heart.

In our dark times, many well wishers have tried to convince me to give up my quest for caring hearts and accept the more conventional way of institutional and impersonal funding.. I must confess that even if I sometimes nodded in agreement, my heart refused to follow and I lay in the dark of the night looking for a sign to vindicate my stand..

Last week another volley of mails was sent asking friends to come together and help us. I must admit that I got my share of emails telling me to change my ways, but I kept my fingers crossed and waited for a sign to show me I was right and this morning it happened as one of our centre got adopted by a old friend and supporter.. and I heaved a sigh of relief..

This friend of why is someone I have never met, someone who has never been to pwhy.. but to come back to my favourite parable, she is one who understood the secret reveald to St Exupery’s Little Prince by an untamed Fox, someone who can see with her heart..

“I will donate for the child if you guarantee he will live” were the harsh words that I heard in the dead of a night when we were looking for funds for Raju our first heart surgery. This followed an appeal on TV and was one of the numerous calls that were made on that September night.

I just answered as sweetly as I could that I could not even guarantee that I would be alive…Raju was operated upon, is now back in school and a fine boy at that.

I had forgotten this incident till today as we sat in the weak afternoon sun, talking about Nanhe and his forthcoming operation and the unecessary delays as the child is in great pain. A few friends were also present and we shared our helplesness as we foresaw no real future for this severly handicapped child, who cannot walk or talk and is dependent on a single parent who can barely support her family. I had thought that the friends present would come forward to help Nanhe and I must confess I was a little taken aback.. till I realised that people do not invest in a child who has no real tomorrows…

Yet Nanhe wants to live.. and he shows it in so many ways.. never complains.. always smiles.. even though all conspires against him – he fell of his mom’s cart and has four stitches -. He even has friends now and is happy…

Now the question is: he is worth investing in.. and what one can one do..

The answer is simple: fill his life with as much happiness as we can. Get the minimum surgery needed to make him pain free, get him diapers – they cost a bomb – so that he retains his dignity and can be taken out to parks, and other places… we know that his life will be short, and that is the best for him.. but it is still a life, a life that is worth investing in..

And let me tell you, his life has a purpose.. it shows us that life no matter how wreteched is to be celebrated and lived to its very end..

And if you need any proof, just look at his smile….