As Nutan’s story unfolds, India comes to light, with its hard realities and softer truths. Nutan is 30 and is suffering from a severe heart malfunction.

Years of ignorance laced with neglect, years of living the life of a woman in a society where women are lesser beings, of bearing four children with little or no help, of malnutrition and hard work have taken their toll on a frail body, where a heart was made to work twice as much because of a probable congenital defect.

When the body could not carry on, when the lungs hungry for oxygen started giving up Nutan was taken to the district headquarters of Purnea, in Bihar. There a doctor who braved the odds and dangers of life in this dificult state to bring a healing touch to those in need, diagnosed Nutan’s ailment and gave her the best possible advise: take a train to Delhi, to the AIIMS for immediate heart surgery.

The year was 2003.

Nutan then fell prey to the half baked knowledge of probale well wishers who scared her so much that she refused the treatment needed and pushed her all ready tired body to the very last.

Then two years later, when even living became difficult, she finally took the train. The verdict was simple: immediate surgery; the cost was staggering for a family who had already sold or mortgaged everything it possessed.

Ayan, a doctor friend from John Hopkins saw Nutan and confirmed what we all knew. I asked her what would have happened if Nutan had been born to a rich family. The answer was staggering: the pediatrician would have detected the heart murmur at birth and the corrective surgery would have taken place by the time she was 3. And anyway, had Nutan had proper medical check up during her pergnancy, the murmur would have been heard. And then the inevitable question, what if nothing was done, the answer was a quiet: 2 years at the most.

What conclusion to draw in this tale of missed murmurs?

The one missed at birth, the one missed four times and then the unexpected one from a kind doctor in a state everyone has given up on..

Nutan a mother of four was diagnosed having a severe cardiac malfunction in a district hospital in Bihar and advised immediate corrective surgery. Doctors were optimist.

That was two years ago…

For two years, Nutan suffered, her condition deteriorating day by day. You may think that the surgery was delayed for want of funds.. well not quite

Nutan became an unsuspecting victim of what one could call enlightend ignorance. In her small village in the back of beyond of what is now known as the most backward state in India, this broken woman was fed on horrific tales of what a heart surgery was. In betwen bouts of severe and almost unberable pain, she heard bribes of conversation that described her body being torn apart and mutilated by city doctors and leading to a possible death.

Slowly a deep seated fright took hold of her pain ridden mind and she simply refused to be taken to the city and thus shut out the one option that could save her life.

It took two years of withering away, of bearing excruating pain, of witnessing her body slowly giving up for Nutan to accept to come to Delhi.

Nutan can barely walk, actually she can barely breathe. She is now undergoing the pre-op tests at the cardio-thoracic centre of AIIMS. We hope we can raise the money required and above all use our sources to get a date for the surgery and see this mom back on the road to recovery.

But Nutan’s case is not unique. How many people fall victim to ignorance, or what is worse half-baked knowledge.

Education then takes on a whole new meaning, a far cry for multiplication tables and historical dates…

as children we have all dreamt of what we would want to be when we grow up… i remember wanting to be an air hostess, a nuclear scientist, an astronaut and god knows what else..

even slum kids have dreams: they often want to be teachers, doctors.. even actors.. and sometimes they even say ‘we want to be like you’.

the young boy in the picture is Sanju. His father ran away with another woman. Sanju has two younger sisters. Deepa the middle one has been sent to the village. Manju, two and half, comes to our creche. Sanju’s mom cleans homes and leaves at 6 am returning late in the evening, leaving Sanju is charge of getting little Manju to school.

Sanju is an angry young man who does not know how to handle his feelings. He used to come to project why but was a difficult child to control. He stopped coming and hangs around in the street in spite of our best effort. In the afternoon he does go to school but that also is not regular. And in the evening he often has to bear the frustration of a tired mother, who often hears complaints about her neglected kids.

This morning I spent time talking to him, wanting to know how I could get him to come back and study. In the course of our little chat, I asked him what he wanted to become when he grew up. After some thought he mumbled ‘mend chains‘. I was perplexed and asked him to explain. He did: Sanju wants to become a zip-repair man (there is one who roams giri nagar repairing people’s broken zips)!

I was filled with immense sadness faced with this child and his tiny dream, his one life ambition. I just sat long after he left lost in my own thoughts. How could the life of a man who wandered through streets holding a few zips and lugging a shoulder bag become the ideal of a smiling boy. At an age where one can dare dream of the impossible, what makes a child stop at something so insignificant.. how suffocating and sad must his life be… what did he see in this man who goes around shouting in the street hoping for someone to call him so that he could earn a few rupees… was it escape from the life of a surrogate parent when one wants to jump and play with others, or from the embarassment of having a little sister clinging to you..

Sanju has to be given back his childhood and te right to dream big, but how?

that is the question.

the little fellow in red singing his heart out is Aman a little gypsy child.
last wednesday, his mom made him wear his smartest clothes, scrubbed squeaky clean in spite of the paucity of water in the camp where they live and sent him to project why.

in days gone by, i succumbed to the fashionable funding option of sponsorships even though every fibre of mine was telling me not to. but at that time the sources were few and the need urgent. the deal of course was that there would be no special goodies or add ons, but just the basic requirement for the child to be in project why. we carefully divided the cost of each section by the number of children and came up with a figure and got some funding that way. since we have ben able to try and get our message across and do not go for sponsorphips of individual kids anymore.

I have often wondered what is it that makes this so popular and once again one is compelled to conclude that it is a matter of giving in to the donor’s conscience. has anyone ever stopped to think how the kid who has a sponsor and smart thinks is treated by his peers, how he is marginalised and considered an outsider. have we not all felt this way in our childhood days?

Then how do we explain to one parent why the other parent’s child has been sponsored. and when you view a set of pictures what makes you select one rather than the other? the cutest one? the saddest looking one? Even in our group adoptions we have always found that it is the smaller section that gets the most support. Sometimes the special kids, as it is fashionable, never the secondary kids though for them it is the last chance to catch the train to a better future..

well to come back to my little fellow, he was one of the chosen one and last week after umpteen mails and calls the person was to come and meet him. we of course told all parents that we would have a visitor so that every child came looking his best.

So it was a bunch of really smart kids that set out that wednesay morning waiting for the guest to come… he never did.

I guess aman and the others never realised that they were kept that little bit longer, as project why is a fun place to be in. For them it was just another day…

and I just once again remebered the fox and his quiet message:

One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.

may i never lose that ability…

just got back from chennai and will write about my visit soon …
but today i want to share the joy I felt returning..home!

yes this little planet as i like to call it, has become ‘home’ as isn’t home the place you feel wanted, loved, cared for… was it the little children who ran to me screaming maa’m, or the more subdued ‘morning maa’m’ of the older ones.. was it the relief written large on the faces of some of my colleagues.. or the happy face of TunTun the scooter driver as he drove me to work..

maybe it was all of that ..

or was it the incredible joy and positive energy that dwell in every nook and corner of this little project and was so visible in the faces of the special kids as they greeted me this morning…

yes i was home…

when the tsunami – a word none of us knew post 26/12 – waves hit the shores of India on a fateful sunday morning, I did not know that it would create ripples in a little planet tucked away in a small delhi slum.

we set about collecting money for a boat, and we managed to do so in record time. today a beautiful little fishing boat proudly bears the name ‘project why’ as it bobs on the East Coast of India bringing new hope to little children and their families.

in project why classrooms, a picture the little brightly coloured boat is displayed on the walls with great pride, creating new yet invisible bonds.

now as we all know the tsunami relief operation did go a bit out of hand as the world found its lost conscience and wanted to put it to use in a hurry. we managed to convince some donors to set aside a little money for the children of a fishing village and my visit to chennai was to try and see what could be done to erase some of the terrible memories that little minds still carry, and that are often not understood by elders.

A drive along the East Coast Road brought to light many realities that we are unaware of. Several villages have been affected and the fisherman now live in ‘camps’ some of which look unreal, I was horrified by one where dwelling units were made of hessian cloth dipped in black tar, and looked like a vision of hell, others looked a little more welcoming and they used natural thatch. DV Sridharan my guide for the visit, pointed out something I would have missed: carefully worded panels that almost ‘invited’ you to visit these camps. I was appaled by the lack of sensitivity that made a human tragedy into a new form of tourism..

More disturing however was the fact that today many villagers have made releif their main ‘economic’ activity, with fishing taking second place… here again we are made aware of the thin and invisible line that lies between helping and handicapping. When fishermen stop fishing something has gone terribly wrong… whe people start concealing reality in the hope of getting more, the purpose of aid gets defeated… this is something we have also faced time and again, and to my mind herein lies the litmus test of any development work: the ability to know when to stop!

Alas this is easier said than done as the problem does not lie only with the recepient but also with the donor who rides on the high of becoming a temporary god or at least saint of the day!

Then what does one do, become a follower of Diogenes and sink into cynicism, or does one carry on with the hope of being able to stop when the need arises.

That is the question.

Dear Nida,

Thank you for your lovely mail and of course you can call me Anu!

I chose to answer your mail in this weblog, because much of what I would like to write to you, is what I would like to say to the young women of a land I love with deep passion. I must confess that sometimes I feel very defeated when I see the youth of today, and wonder where, we as parents have gone wrong.

To read that I have inspired you is not only humbling but a vindication of my deep seeded belief that everyone has a heart, maybe we just have forgotten the way to it. I am sure that everyone of you has the potential to make a difference, we just have not been able to show you how!

I do not what what motivated you to spend precious holiday time in the dusty and hot lanes of a slum rather; I do not even know what you were looking for.. I just hope you found it, and I do not think I am wrong, in the eyes of Aditya.

I can also see that you are a woman of substance as you were able to catch the essence of my approach. Yes, Nida deep concern without pity. Pity is a word far too often associated with, what in page 3 terms, would be ‘social work’. Yet it is the one thing that ruins it all.

I think we should all feel some reponsibility towards what we think is wrong, and I do not think that anyone would argue with the fact that little Aditya sleeping hungry is wrong or that young Arun having his operation money diverted to pay for funeral rites is wrong, or that a child’ s school fees going to pay the father’s evening tipple is wrong, or that .. and the list is endless..

The time you spent with us at project why must have shown you how little it takes to set things right. And yet it is so difficult to get even the tiniest bit of support.

I hope you will take this message to your friends and help people find the way to their hearts. And I hope that you will continue to be the woman you are, that you will always find the strength in you to do what you think is right, even if all others think differently.

We will miss you… particularly Aditya….

Note: Nida was a volunteer who worked with us during the summer.

I am an Indian expat – living in San Diego, California now. I was born & raised in Delhi, and, like so many others, had become immune to sights and sounds of abject poverty surrounding me everyday. I came across your project while doing some random net surfing during my lunch hour at my work place here, and was touched by the plight of the children. I think you & your team are doing a terrific job, and I wish you every success. I cannot even begin to imagine the kind of hurdles you face in your day to day operations, & I just want to commend you & the rest of your team on your spunk and spirit.
Betsy

I do not know Betsy… I do not know if we will ever meet… maybe we walked on the same street as she grew up in Delhi, two unknown strangers that nothing could or should link.. she went to fulfill her destiny thousands of miles away and I stayed on to fulfill mine… and we should have remained strangers but for project why..

When I wake up at the crack of dawn every morning to catch up with the ever increasing load of work, and switch on my computer, I am often greeted with a message like this one.. and the grey clouds lift to let rays of hope in.. and I am strenghthen in my belief that I chose the right road, even if it is the less travelled one..

I have often been criticised and even sneered at for insisting on my decision to fund project why with the now almost proverbial ‘one rupee a day’! But it is that very ‘one rupee’ that brings to project why the love and good will of so many people dispersed the world over, of people I would have never come across and creates invisble bonds that are priceless..

a rupee a day does make the world smaller!

If you look at the picture you will see a little tear that is about to fall… why is aditya crying as he clutches his pink bag?

Some of you may remeber a post in the June archives of this very blog entitled ‘the other WHY’, and the same little aditya asking questions no one would answer..

why did my father die ?
why is everyone so nasty to my mother?
why did no one give me medicine when my face was hurting so much?
why do i hear my mama weep at night?

the questions will remain unanswered.. and many more will appear… as life will continue its often cruel course…

Aditya, who never misses a day at project why had not been coming for the past few days.. This morning we sent Urmila, his favourite teacher, to find out what had happened and my blood ran cold when she came back: Aditya was alone at home, and Neha his mother and his grandmother were out.. a kind neighbour told a stunned Urmila that for the past three days the little proud trio had not eaten anything. The gaz cylinder was over.. and as Urmila perused the tiny kitchen she realised that all the diminutive containers were empty, barring one which had a few grains of lentils…

The neighbour went on to reveal that this proud family never asked for help, and often went to sleep after drinking water to calm the hunger pangs… a message was left asking Neha to come by and Urmila returned and shared what she had seen and heard…

We set up our little support network and decided to fill up the empty boxes and the cylinder so that the little family would not sleep hungry tonight and then we would work out something..

Later Neha came clutching little Aditya and we heard that this proud mother, widowed at an age when one is still a child, had calmed little Aditya’s hunger with water laced with some sugar and salt and dollops of mother’s love…

But there is a god for the lesser ones and he does send angels in different garbs and Aditya’s angel was a kind lady who had come to visit project why and who decided to sponsor these little bravehearts till Neha finished her course and could stand on her own feet…

Little Aditya sat on his mom’s lap listening to everything and I knew that his little soul knew that an angel had flown by…

this week we made it to outlook and for once the article conveyed the reality of project why and its hopes and dreams. For once readers are spared the ‘ambassador’s daughter’ walking the slums, a cliche that makes me mad and has been used ad nauseum…

project why came of age in what i think is still the best article even written on why project WHY came to be. This article appeared in September 2003, and since we have gone a long way. At that time we were still groping in the dark, needing some kind of recognition that would make us visible and hence help us grow… but then everyone picked the words from the goodnewsindia.com article and somehow rewrote it, giving the impression that nothing was
truly happening..

yet the essence of project why is its ability to change and mutate, as its aim from the very first day was to empower people to take charge of their own lives…

project why was never about the poor little rich girl hoping to become a saint!

project why has always been about making a difference and one again we find ourselves at crossroads and know that will have to take on a new role… and I hope that when we do and succeed there will be someone who will report it honestly!

One dream one soul one prize one goal
One golden glance of what should be
It’s a kind of magic
One shaft of light that shows the way
No mortal man can win this day
It’s a kind of magic
The bell that rings inside your mind
Is challenging the doors of time

wrote roger taylor for the rock group queen…

strange that these words came to my mind today… the day after having had to face some of the social ills that continue to plague our society: caste, women ruled by their husbands, narrow mindedness..
yet this morning when i saw the little project why inhabitants getting ready for their morning activities, i was once again touched by the magic of our little planet…

look at the little souls in the picture.. a happy lot they seem, intrigued at the presence of the big ma’am…

did you know that one is dalit, the other a muslim, the third a watermark brahman, and yet another a nepali; one is orphaned, the other illegitimate, another is a gypsy; some are very poor others own scooters, some live in airless shanties while the others in well cooled flats… would you be able to stick the correct label on the right forehead…

and yet they as the song says, they are the shaft of life we seek but do not recognise… soon they will be taught the ugly and divisive side of life, but today they are touched by the magic… the magic of planet why..

shhhh.. do not disturb them… it’s a kind of magic

stay hungry, stay foolish

Again, you can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dotswill somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something -your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. Steve Job

Today I had to put my 7 year old dog, Cleo , to sleep. Cleo has been sick since the time she was born. She was a bull mastiff ; but Cleo was also the result of human greed whereby one forgets that nature has laws that should not be broken: Cleo was the result of extreme in breeding. She came to us one night and one look at her was enough to realise that nothing was right: from her distorted legs, to her tongue that was too long: but she was beautiful and we all fell in love with her huge melting brown eyes.

she lived a brave valiant life in spite of her kidneys having failed.. at the end she could barely stand and was in pain.. and today I put her out of her misery… all could say to her as I held her was ‘sorry’..

I was far more disturbed than I thought I would be and shared my pain with a dear friend who sent me a mail with the text of steve job’s speech delivered recently to a group of students. The words somehow dealt with all the questions that were crowding my mind…

You can read the speech here.

many times, when things are not quite the way you want them to be, you wonder why and it is only much later that the dots get connected into often a perfect picture..

Steve goes on to say:

You’ve got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle.

And thinking back I am blessed as I have found what I love in project why and the rewards I get every day of my life.

I just had not realised it ..

Piya, Sudha, Asha, Misha,Paul, Ronnie, Greg, Sandra, Melanie, Jennifer, Ritu, Sameer, Rohit, Rahul, Ben, Eric, Dr Cohen, Dr Rawat, College of Du Page, Nazeer, Himanshu and the list goes on…. are friends we did not know we had, but the magic of project why touched sarmishta one day as she browsed the net and maybe saw one of the little souls that inhabit or planet..

she decided to help them fulfill their dreams of a better tomorrow.. by pledging part of therevenue from the sales of her maiden film.

but that simple generous gesture sarmishta did much more.. she created bonds between people who would have never known each other and made the world that much smaller..

today we are overwhelmed and humbled

bless you all

french fries and curry

when i asked some kids what made them laugh most, they all refereed to the famous chocolate ad where big B leaps of joy at ‘pappu’ passing his XIIth..

well yesterday when rani brought her class X result, my joy was not for the camera, it was genuine .. and that for many reasons..

the first is maybe because i simply love this young spirited woman.. but more than that because from the time i set eyes on her exactly five years ago to the day… she has never let me down.. from accepting to work without salary as a health and nutrition volunteer, to taking on small responsibilities to becoming my right arm and steering the day-to-day activities of project why..

rani was a shy withdrawn girl, who had dropped out of class IX as she had been severely beaten for not having brought her fees in time, and her mom had decided to stop her schooling..

well this year she decided to sit for her Xth Boards, did not even take a day of leave to study – god knows when she did – and came beaming yesterday with her results..

rani today steers a project which has 400 kids, a staff of 40 many of whom i have seen her grow..

but what makes this woman special is that she takes on any challenge with a smile and a determination no one can compete with… somehow she vindicates project why’s stand of empowering people..

main hoon na! or here I am is what each tiny project why tot proudly says every morning at roll call!

these three little words are overflowing with meaning… they are not simply an affirmation or act of presence, they hold all their still unformulated dreams.. dreams that can only be fulfilled if people find their hearts and reach out to help..

and when they fold their hands in prayer and look up, it is the same three words they say to the invisible one!

to help us fulfill their dreams we need caring souls to part with a rupee a day! easier said than done particularly in this city where people seem to have lost their heart somewhere…

everyone wants to know what they would get in return.. and you stoically retort in a soft voice: the satisfaction of helping educate children – but it does not cut the ice… you get a curt – all NGOs are crooks– and you want to scream – but come and see our work.. – but who has the time..

many friends say – go find a celebrity – but where does one find one who would be willing to associate with a down to earth effort like ours…

never mind if we get children new hearts, or give employment to destitute mothers, or even arrest drop out rates in school.. we cannot get you a place in page 3.. we never learnt how… and the question is – do we really want to…

i think you know the answer..

meet sophiya and pushpa.. one is a tribal from ranchi the other a dalit..
sophiya and pushpa run our okhla primary extension programme..

it was about a year ago that we decided to start this centre, and these two ladies were the chosen ones to go and set it up from scratch and they did, to our utter amazement: found a dump, cleared it and cleaned it, set up a shack, negotiated with the cops and local politicos, handled the local goons, found the children and today teach over 100 kids, in conditions that would scare off many…

and they do it with a smile, without a word of complaint..

to me these two women of substance epitomise the spirit of project why, which only makes sense if community members can learn the skills and gain the ability to set up extension centres in different places learning to deal with local problems and find support within.

Women are like stars…only one can make your dreams come true!

one heart has been mended, one kid is back on course…
a bunch of sparkling eyed kids are busy studying…
another lot are busy learning the rules of living in our world..
little stars shine as they learn their numbers and letters..
a planet continues its charted course…

but there is another side of WHY
the one that never ceases to question and look for answers

if you look closely at aditya, the little fellow on the picture you will see a little face filled with questions that seem not to have any answers: here are some

why did my father die ?
why is everyone so nasty to my mother?
why did no one give me medicine when my face was hurting so much?
why do i hear my mama weep at night?
and the list is endless

aditya’s mama is 19, aditya is not even 2. the father died of brain fever last year. his family threw aditya and his mother out. aditya lives with his maternal grandmother who can barely make both ends meet.

we cannot spend time wondering why (!) we need to do something… and we did.

after getting aditya the medical help he needed (injectable antibiotics) we decided to help Neha find a tomorrow and thanks to friends today Neha attends a beautician course at the Shanaz Hussain School and will one day get a job and maybe her own parlour… though we are still looking for a kind heart to sponsor the course material which is quite expensive (4K!) and the monthly bus fare.

And every morning , as Neha sets out on the road of her new life, little aditya sits in our creche working out all the little unworded questions that crowd his tender mind.

And the one question I know bothers him the most is: when will mama smile again!

Two recent occurrences set me thinking about the new lucrative field that I will just call giveBizMess and the new meaning of words like ‘giving’,’charity’ and their XXI st century mutations ‘development causes’ and ‘NGO sector’ etc..

A quick glance at history and quotes from the world over read like:

The desire of power in excess caused the angels to fall; the desire of knowledge in excess caused man to fall; but in charity there is no excess, neither can angel or man come in danger by it. Francis Bacon
or
If you haven’t got any charity in your heart, you have the worst kind of heart trouble. Bob Hope
or
Charity never humiliated him who profited from it, nor ever bound him by the chains of gratitude, since it was not to him but to God that the gift was made. Antoine De Saint-Exupery

The list is endless, but there is one common thread and that is that giving is a one way street and not a business transaction with strings tied to it.

My half a century journey on this planet has shown me time and again that when we humans are uncomfortable with something we tend to marginalise it and kick it off the mainstream. Hence one who does not play by today’s rule is at once branded as ‘silly’ ‘stupid’ and more of the same.

Now to come back to the two incidents that started this stream of thought, one is the unending stream of donations tagged ‘tsunami’, whereby people or institutions have unleashed a wave of giving bigger than a tsunami wave, and that is also likely to have as negative an impact.

The second incident is the one that began by a simple offer to help a child and has also unleashed a rather incomprehensible stream of events where one child’s case has brought to light the ugly or rather sad connotations that charity assume in our day and age.

I think one needs to be ‘charitable’ in dealing with these issues or otherwise one is at risk of being drawn into the givBizMess Syndrome where the one who gives takes on the bigger role defeating the act of giving itself.

What a bit of humour would lead one to ask is:

How come people who normally do not find the time, inclination or need to part with a few coins for simple day-to-day activities such as education, nutrition or old age care – to name a few – to people around them, acquire an impatient eagerness to do the same when a tsunami (word unknown till 26-12-04) hits lands they will never see?

How come one child’s surgery assumes so much importance that money that could have almost paid for one such surgery is spent on phone calls, when a simple request for help for two little girls needs a Board of Directors to meet?

This is the result of giveBizMess, where what was intended to be an almost subliminal act becomes a pure commercial activity where every one wants its pound of flesh.

Giving is an act of love, an act where the only reward you can truly seek is the one you have to look for deep in the eyes of those you sought to help.

But it requires you to make the effort of looking into those eyes and the terrible risk of losing yourself in them!

note: the word bizMess is the brainchild of my friend DV; i just thought it fitted the picture like a glove!

what is essential is invisible to the eye..
was the secret the fox gave the little prince.

as i watched arun sleep today on his hospital bed, his heart beating valiantly and with great effort, these words came to my mind and i wondered what aruns’ heart had ‘seen’ till now.

adults for whom the dead were more important than the life of a child; adults who sat helpelessly cursing life and everything and everyone around but not really doing anything..

children play and run while this child lay helplessly just trying to get from one heartbeat to the nxt…

children learning while this child was stopped from going to school because he may have got hurt..

did arun question the unfairness of life..

or did he just smile thorugh it all with a wisdom born from years of suffering in silence, i do not know..

i still remember the first time i saw him: he just smiled and that smile conveyed everything he wanted to say. I knew arun wanted to live, to make up for the lost years, maybe to run and laugh like other children..

and i knew i would do everything i could to make it possible..

watch these little bravehearts as they petition the God of of the lesser ones…

and you wonder what they are seeking when everything in this world conjures to harm them!

some cannot hear..
simple minds cannot fight the daily abuse they are subjected to..
and an intelligent mind locked in a useless body brings daily sneers…
as a guileless smile cannot convey the scars left on a violated body..

and yet when they come piled in limousine 1472, their three wheeled cindrella coach steered by the big hearted stern looking coachman, a palpable feeling of joy and hope fills project why, infusing large doses of cheer in all of us..

they leave their dark world at the stroke of 8.30 am and till 4 pm walk into light… they set about their chores in an environment when they know they are not judged, laughed at or belittled.. in a place where they can just be themselves…

yes the clock will strike 4 – it does every day – but that is a long time away for these lovely souls who live instant after instant and laugh, fight, cry, play or to sum it up simply live…

so I wonder as I watch them every morning eyes shut and hands folded : what is it that their almost incomprehensible words are saying to the one we all turn to in our moments of despair..

and sometimes the wind blows back two gentle words to me… thank you!

arun’s operation has been shifted from the glamour of Apollo Hospital to the down to earth corridors of AIIMS.

many will wonder why?

Should I just say that only a few are to the manor born, and project why is not one of them. So then why did one even consider it…

Till recently we citizens why lived a simple life, solving the numerous problems that come our way, as best we could, within the realm of what we knew was available to us. The kind doctor next door, the government hospital where we could find an acquaintance, often a simple worker…and somehow the god of small things and lesser children was always there to help. We managed two open heart surgeries, saved a child from third degree burns, and took care of numerous ailments. Where there was a cost to be borne, we appealed to all our friends and help always came… the virtual begging bowl never failed..

Then one day came an award, the lights and glare of the media, the rush of adrenaline that happens in spite of one’s self. And to be honest one lost one’s way and for sometime got caught in a reality that was not ours.

The god of lesser children did try and steer us away, as right from day one was not comfortable. Sadly it took a while to understand that not every one is to the manor born, and that project why has to remain within the reality it can sustain and live by honestly.

So we made the course correction needed and are back on a road we know. Arun will be operated by what is the best available to all children born in India.

citizens why are not to the manor born!

and our task is to recognize this thought and help it toward completion.”

Everyday I get reminded of this beautiful quote as I look at the little children who come to project why. It is amazing how each little pair of eyes that look at you as they mutter their often inaudible and even incomprehensible : morning maa’m, tells a story.

Look at little Karuna, my angry young lady! She seems to be perpetually cross with god knows who, maybe life itself… She goes about her daily routine, but rarely smiles..

Some eyes are filled with hurt, others with longing… still others with resignation..

I wonder if they are aware that we adults will never discover the divine thought that brought their creation, and that by the time they are able to explain it, it will be too late.. there will be no one willing to listen…

Sometimes small children do share things that sound like dreams and we just brush them aside.. but next time a child does say something, even bordering absurdity, just stop and listen…

the past posts on this blog may have sounded to some full of anger and even hurt..
as i reread them on this quiet and hot sunday morning, i realised that it may have given to those who do not know project why, am impression far from reality..

so here is a glimpse of what our little planet really is… and above all the spirit that pervades it..

planet why is a beautiful place, where in spite of all the problems and realities that surround it, children find time to be children… a world where adults do not shout at them but laugh with them, where there is love in abundance…

where hurts are healed, problems shared, and solutions found…

it is true that it lacks space and many of the things that a child centred environment should have but does it really matter… children come no matter what…

planet why is a place where the little prince finds a flower to water, and so what if there is no fancy watering can, an old discarded plastic bottle does the job just as well… ans so what if the flower is not a ‘pedigreed’ rose, it is a one that what was planted with care by children often called those of a lesser God!

planet why is a place where difference is celebrated and respected, where each inhabitant, no matter how small or insignifiant in the outside world, is king, at least for the fews hours spent on this planet…

this week is important as a child’s broken heart will be repaired..

so are we simply the planet that repairs broken hearts!

ashya and fatima are twins
they are 2 years old
all their milestones are delayed
they cannot walk and cry in pain if made to stand
they cannot talk.. nor do any of the things a 24 month child does..

they have been with us for almost a year and have not grown…
ashya and fatima have two elder sisters. the father drives an auto ricshaw and the mother takes on export ‘piece’ work..

the twins are neglected and have severe behaviour problems…

we recently took them to the doctor and were horrified to learn that they had a haemoglobin count of 4.6 and 4.3…

i know we are primarily an education support programme, but then does one sit and do nothing when faced with the tragic reality of these two innocent babies…

as i write these words i shudder at the hopelesness of the situation.. what is the value of two little girls whose chances to a normal life are very remote.. who were born into a society were girls have no place.. but then can one wish them away..

the doctors will give a verdict and a road map which may or may not make up for the lost time.. but then who will implement it.. and above all sustain it..

soon these little girls will become a burden no one will want to carry…

where does one begin…

but then can one just look away…

By this time next week Arun’s heart will be repaired ..

It should have been done years ago..

Today is the first time I could spend some quality time with this quiet, unassuming child… His tired smile was filled with hope and his frail body spoke volumes ..

Arun speaks in a soft, barely audible, voice.. he seems to have perfected the art of being unobtsrusive, almost invisible..

I wondered what went on in his mind .. Arun has held on to life.. imagine this child has gone through so much medical investigation.. so much discomfort and even pain.. and yet he continued to hold on..

I asked him what he likes eating and he simply said lauki and khichri… I guess this has been his diet for many years, a diet normally given to sick people..

Next week doctors are going to repair a congenital defect, something that would have been done years ago if Arun had been born in your or my home..

I know we will not be able to give him back his childhood, but let us hope Arun will soon lead the life any 14 year old should….

why is it that if one person thinks you have done a great job then everyone wants to say the same..

then you wonder whether there is any value at all to the ‘awards’ and ‘merit certificates‘ that get thrown at you.

strange that some of those who call and write praising you, have not even bothered to come and walk the hot streets and look into the children’s eyes..

for us at pwhy it has been ‘recognition month‘, newspapers, tv channels rotary Club and more…

I feel both amused and livid when I have to answer a call where after saying that the person wants to do a shoot or interview or hand a piece of paper he quicly asks: by the way what is it exactly that you do? or what is the nature of your work?

A dear friend who holds most of the media of today in contempt is even upset that I accept and go through the motion each time and get hurt almost every time…

But then when you hold the future of trusting children, like the one who sleeps in the picture, in your tired and feeble hands you cannot afford to brush anything away, as maybe, in spite of all the galling occurences, there maybe one person who will reach out…

So you carry on…. and deal with the hurt and the upsets by writing blogs such as this…

And sometimes add a touch of humour laced in sarcasm… as that is the only thing that helps..

Maybe all this is just a reflection of our times, when everyone is in a hurry, where ridng piggy back on others is the accepted norm, where a good story is the one that makes you cry in dispair or run in disgust…

So just as there are food festivals and commercial promotion weeks, there is maybe also pwhy award month

And as all things must past, this is will also go by and we will get back to our normal life.. a little angry, a little sad and a little tired… but ready to move on

C’est la vie!

The doctors have given their verdict
Utpal does not have the dreaded B virus but just a severe bout of hepatitis A

Utpal will have time to conquer more hearts and to share his laughter with many
I can only say that this happened because of all those who petitioned Gods of all colours and hues, even those who do not believe, but who decided to do so just this once…
And even the most forbidding deity had no choice but to make an exception and oblige…
Our little man just smiled when I held him…
And I saw what looked like a snake scurrying away into its hole

St Exupery’s beautiful fable has never ceased to fascinate me.

I got my first copy of the little prince as a young teenager in Algiers, a city so close to the sahara desert where he made his landfall. I would have never guessed that this beautiful tale would weave itself into the very fabric of my life…

It has provided me anwers where all else failed, given me direction when all seemed dark…

When I first heard Utpal laugh, months after his terrible ordeal with fire I heard myself murmur:
“little man, I want to hear you laugh again..”
At that moment I had not understood how deep that intuitive comparaison would turn out to be…
Many of you know that as I write these words, we wait for the verdict of the men in white, the words that will reveal the coordinates of his tryst with the snake..
As I wait, many of the questions that I asked myself over the years spent discovering the unfathomable mysteries of this tiny fable suddenly assume a new clarity:
Did the little prince appear to elucidate the true meaning of love, friendship, and other human feelings, or simply to tell the aviator that he would find the well and hence live!
Or was the little prince urging the aviator to start looking with his heart as he would not live long (st exupery passed away one year after writing the little prince)
Does the true meaning of the gift of the fox stop at explaining love as we see it, or does it ask us to take that extra step and understand that love has to be selfless to the point of letting go of the other, even it it means accepting the coming of the snake…

Many times, I have seen a seriousness bordering mysticism in little utpal. His reactions to ordinary occurences often have a profound meaning. He has provided answers to puzzling dilemnas. His ability to walk into people’s heart in no time is almost frightening, making one worry why he is in such a hurry…

What is Utpal trying to tell me.. that sometimes one has to take decisions that are not the obvious ones. That we humans cannot play god and that the inevitable has to happen. That sometimes people meet for a short time but one that is rich in rewards for both…
and the ultimate lesson that love means to accept the snake at the appropriate time as maybe that is the best one…

I urge all of you that have met him and those that have come to know him through my words to help me take the steps that the little prince expects me to…

so help me god!

i urge those of you who have not read the little prince to do so. but beware just like utpal, he walks into your heart!

look at this smile…

it belongs to a lovely lady I have never met in person, but who has walked into my heart across the screen of my computer.
sarmishtha is a software engineer and hold on a film maker!
she came to know about project why and decided to help… and it was not a simple cheque in the mail box or a click on the paypal button of our website, no sir!.. she decided to support our work by contributing a generous percentage of the net revenues of her maiden venture: french fries and curry ..
i sit and wonder what makes people like this young graduate of Berkeley University click! what miracle of creation ensured that her heart was in the right place and not lost in alien land..
i do not have the answer..
i have walked this planet for over half a century, and one thing is certain: whenever i seemed to be an inch of losing faith in humanity, a miracle always happened to steer me back on course.. that is how i have been able to carry on…
with the help of smiles like the one you see, and maybe an ocasional plate of french fries…

ninety three
two simple digits, but ones that should have tranformed the lives of the children of India:
I am referring to the ninety third amendment to the constitution of India..

It took half a century for the children of Independant India to get the right to free education. It should be a cause of celebration… but then all is not well on planet India…

A few weeks back a senior government official asked me whether I would like to ‘take over’ the local municipal school. At first I thought it was a joke.. but soon realised the person was serious…

I was in the presence of the so called privatisation of education, that one had been hearing of for some time.

My blood ran cold…

The state was simply abdicating its duty towards education and handing it over to whoever would want it… and i why should anyone want it if not for commercial reasons.. we were not talking philantrophy here…

Yes it is the fashion of the day to hand over what one is not able to run, be it a natural resource like water to the running of complex organisations like power, to mundane ones like garbage collection… but has anyone stopped to think what this would mean…

Handing over municipal schools to commercial interests simply means denying millions of children their constitutional right to education… yes i am sure some palliative will be found, some form of literacy or the other for which someone will find a befitting and conscious easing name… and society wil be further divided..

An easy way to solve problems.. maybe next time we cannot handle our own children let us give them to the highest bidder!

citizen one
was the award that a daily paper decided to select me for..

moment of great joy for the younger gang of project why who are still, thank god, simple hearted and honest and thus view life that away, a gang ably led by shamika..

moment of bewilderment and some satisfaction i must confess as i am but human…
and then on 29th April a ceremony with to add glamour and glitterati, a bollywood actor..

to many this would seem to be ‘my big moment’ .. messages drop by the mail box, for many it seemed one had ‘got there‘..

but i ask myself ‘got where‘ as the reality stares at me, a reality that becomes scarry…

let me first share what i wrote to the Today Editor on the very next morning

“…
it was wonderful meeting you yesterday
and i would like to thank you for having given me this unique moment
i feel humbled
i hope that this recognition will help in getting the children of
delhi access to meaningful education and this can only be possible if
the people of delhi come forward and help sustain such initiatives
we feel that true development can only take place in a democratic way
when we realise that each one of us have a role to play
we have a small initiative called just one rupee a day which we feel
is very doable
our work necessitates about 4000 one-rupee-day donors … not 4000 rs
a day but 4000 one rupee donors, therein lies the difference between
‘charity’ and commitment
i did mention it to vivek oberoi ( who said he might help). mr arun
purie wondered how we could collect the same. well we can as we have
evolved mechanisms we feel would work…
to me it is not a matter of simply getting pwhy to continue, it is
more an approach to community development and empowerment
and Today is the right instrument for this approach
in a country like India no matter how many individuals there are,
numbers will never be reached unless we evolve a model that is steered
and maintained by the very community one wants to reach
the award i received yesterday was great positive stroking (i am but
human) but to me its true vindication is when and if it brings about a
real change in mindsets. our city, which lies too close to power for
its own good, has lost its heart, maybe we can help it find it
again…”

any award that carries a name like citizen one is definitely weighty (just like the statue given). one cannot just walk away and do nothing. such recognition does compel you to do something larger and more meaningful… and that becomes even more difficult when most of those who write in, feel that somehow that one event has solved all your problems..

i will have to stay clear of pits in which i may fall, of easy way outs that will take away from project why the very spirit that allowed it to reach where it has.. and walk the planet one day at a timei feel more alone than i ever was, longing for the comfort of being just one tiny project reaching out to a handful of children, and above all i know that not matter how many kuddos land my way, i have to keep myself together and remember that it is only by remaining humble that i can achieve something meaningful…

it is now that i need the support and goodwill of all those who have walked with me this far..

there are many ways opened to project why, and one will have to chose the right one…

so help me god!