Excuse me saying this, but why don’t you sell this house.. imagine how many heart surgeries it would sponsor..
This is what a project why supporter and now friend said when he dropped on a Sunday to finally put a face to something he had till date known through the words I write.. One again I was faced with what I now call my moments of truth..

The obvious answer was that this ‘house’ was not quite mine as it was in custody for my children.. but the question perturbed me for a while as it was almost existential in nature and pertained to the very spirit of project why…

Even if the hosue was mine to do away with, did this act fall within the ambit of what pwhy set out to be.. A tough question I must confess as the answer could easily be miconstrued as an easy way out of an essential dilemna..

After much thought and soul searching, I realised that the answer would still be ‘no’, and that for many reasons. No matter how many open heart surgeries it could sponsor, it would be still a limited number and once depleted one woudl still find one’s self where one is today. But there was a deeper rationale to my refusal and that was that such action would against the very essnce of pwhy which aims at levelling and easing out differences and placing everyone on a common platform on the one end, and working out modes of functioning that can be replicated by one and all..

The aim is not giving up or liquidating an asset however big, but heping create assets, albeit tiny, for all.. leave alone the false sense of megalomania such an action would entail.. and above all one must not forget that charity – for want of a better word – has to be coupled with humility to retain any meaning… so begging bowl it is for now and always

This morning I began the mail I sent to many friends and supporters with the words: here I am, begging bowl in hand.. and many answered with the words: please do not use phrases like begging bowl..

Most of the mails I write when I seek help are instinctive.. true that I have never used the word begging earlier … it was time for a bit of soul searching..

To beg means to ask for something earnestly and humbly says the dictionary.. quite true as gone are the days of anger and resentment when no help came.. now there is only gratitude for even the tiniest coin that drops by, as with it comes the love and care of a human heart, the precious moment spared to write a cheque or fill an on line form..

As I searched some more I remembered the Zen monk’s begging bowl: each day the monk would go out into the world with his empty bowl, and whatever was placed in his bowl by kind strangers would be his nourishment for the day. Nourishment can take more than one meaning and I realised that maybe I was like the Zen monk and my bowl got me so much: a heart fixed, a tear wiped, a child’s smile, a mother’s prayer answered, children remaining in school, a roof on someone’s head…

As I look with moist eyes at the picture above and see Manu in a classroom, intent in learning the new excercise and little Sapna looking up at him, my mind goes back to the Manu begging on the street and being fed like an animal and Sapna not able to hold her head, let alone stand on her own… and lok at them today… and all this has been made possible because so many of you dropped a bit of your heart in my begging bowl..

As long as I asked for a contribution in impersonal ways and resented the fact that it was not forthcoming nothing changed.. it is only when I was able to shed my misplaced arrogance and pride and humbly beg with my heart that my bowl filled slowly and miracles happened around me..

It is a very precious bowl I hold out as hidden in its depth is the key to a new heart, a new life, and many tomorrows filled with joy..

Just when you sit back and think that you have done your bit, and maybe can take a break , someone decides otherwise and a tiny broken heart lands softly on your planet. One look at the trusting eyes and innocent face and your mind is already racing.

Deepak is 7 months old and requires open heart surgery. Though his face is plump his tiny body is proof of how difficult the simple task of breathing is for this child. The scribbled now familiar green card of the All India Institute lies in front of you..

70 000 rs with the added 4000 for the angiograpy.. how can little deepak’s daily wage labourer father ever put that money together.. and you ask yourself which one of the thousands of prayers his mom must have whispered, did he hear!

One has to stop and I think at the reality we often do not see. One the one hand India is shining and more and more of our countryPals are making it on the world’s richest men list.. Five start medical facilities now attract a new form of tourism. But no effort is being made towards medical care for the poor.

A TV network recently showed an old educated couple begging in the streets of Mumbay. The dignified old lady wore a placard around her neck saying she had lost her eyesight, breast and home to cancer and needs help.

Looking at those pictures I felt so small and inadequate and wondered where had we gone wrong in building our nation.. True that after the programme, help poured in and the couple is now comfortable. But many questions remained unanswered.. is it only after a story of human tragedy is aired on TV that people open their hearts and feel a sense of responsibility..? does our charitable side needs external prompts to awaken..?

In our 7 years of up market begging one has had to accept the sad reality that individual heart wrenching cases do get heeded, whereas long term and preventive projects are difficult to sell.. the person willing to come forward in individual cases, tiptoes away when asked for help in our every day work..

A flash of intuition or some hidden instinct pushed me to set up a community driven grass root project, and in our 7th year running and in spite of the innumerable setbacks and looming temptations, the tug is still very much there. No magical wand is going to create a perfect social system no matter how committed an administration we have. The magical wand lies in our ability to awaken the charitable side that lies dormant in each one of us, so that a network of support is created at the micro level and takes care of its own – the poor, the handicapped, the old, the sick – and ultimately this is the network that will create the bridge between national programmes and the end user.

How, is the question, and my answer remains the same: the one rupee a day model, where the one rupee could be translated as free space, time, skills and resources.. If each of our outreach programmes could be handled by the local community, we would see a quantum leap in the number of children helped..

I have always held that India’s solutions lie in addressing simultaneously the macro and the micro level till the day the meet and synergise.

Will that day dawn in our life span, I do not know, but in the spirit of what has been said, one has to continue with conviction in what one feels is right.

Deepak needs a new heart that is today’s challenge, tomorrow’s is to ensure that we are still around for all the other Jyotis and Deepaks in waiting!

It has almost become a habit and we blase about it..

The class X results were out and all the kids passed with a few compartments, mostly students who had joined us recently or were very weak when they came to us, some even failures..

At a time where reservation is spliting the country wide open, these children are a proof of the fact that with a little help and large doses of positive stroking, kids pass and with good marks. Of the 28 project why kids more than 8 have secured more than 65 marks with 2 having crossed 80. These are students who can stand on their own and compete with any peer and succeed.

I do not know what caste they are, to me they are simply children of India who deserve the best. If we can , with our limited means and resources, ensure such results, does it not prove that what we need is well run schools to erase social or other differences.. The question is do we really want them to succeed?

Wonder what a mundane potato chip and a prayer to God have in common..

Yesterday I had a fall as the old knee gave in resulting in a badly bruised ankle.. An ice pack and bandage later I hobbled to where Utpal was playing.. he stopped and looked at me with a quizzical face.. Upon hearing what had happened he got up and went to a fetch his pack of potato chips and with a serious face took one out and told me to eat it as it would take the hurt away.. then he declared that he would pray to bhagwan to make it all well and turned his little face up, shut his eyes and folding his hands he sent his simple petition to the heavens..

I cannot find the words to express the multitude of emotions that filled me as i watched this little fellow pray.. The room was for that moment in time filled with palpable much energy and divine light..

His prayer finished, little Utpal went back to his toys leaving us all overwhelmed by the power of what had happened..

Needless to say my pain was gone..

God listens to children.. maybe we should too

Once again the dreaded happened: two young children of india took their lives away in the land capital city because they failed their Boards examinations.

This has been happening with obsessive regularity and yet no one had don anything to put an end to this..

Wonder what goes into the head of a child that makes him take this extreme irreversible step
Is failing in a set of questions in a limited number of subjects – some so inane and useless to life – tantamount to failing in life itself.. is our society so perverse as to judge a human life in whether it knows how to add, or remembers some statistic or the other.. is it the parents who put undue pressure, the peer group or the inadequate opportunities our society gives its members that make a child who has barely taken a few step in life take this momentous decision..

Imagine the sense of despair that the child must feel at that moment..

It is not the child who has failed but we adults who have made the norms of success so narrow and bigoted that they cannot account for those who are otherwise endowed.. Who knows the child who took her life may have turned out to be a musician, an artist or maybe just a good human being, something so rare that we have forgotten its relevance..

I work with people who by our standards are failures as they have never passed an ‘examination’ in their entire lives and yet when one looks at them, one can see that they stand far above what we call successes, maybe not in material terms but in what makes a human being worthy of that name. Mothers who never give up, women who carry on their station in life in circumstances that would make us give up a thousand times, men who toil so that their children can have a better tomorrow, people who may have nothing but are generous to a fault..

What makes my blood run cold is that every year, as if on cue, one or more children take their lives after failing in a school examination and we do nothing barring a few chuckles of sympathy. One child dying for in this way should be enough to make us stand up and do something.. There is something terribly wrong in this numbers game which is foul in more ways than one..

I cannot begin to express the sense of immense let down I feel, when an illiterate parent comes beaming from ear to ear with his child’s school results wanting to share the joy of the child having passed. A glance at the report card where no number exceeds 33 and the words grace marks jump at you, are sufficient to prove the worthlessness of this piece of paper where the word PASS stares at you. You know the child will ultimately go the same way as his parents, as the certificate gathers dust and fritters with age..

What is this pass fail ka khel and can someone change the rules?

Ram Pyari, Nanhe’s mom had told us that she was off to the village for a few days with Nanhe. We thought nothing of it, though we wondered why she had chosen the hottest month to do so..

Yesterday we were taken aback when she came back and told us that actually she had taken nanhe to Narayan Seva Samsthan’s specialised hospital in Udaipur for his leg surgery.. I remembered her telling me a while back that she had registered at the polio camp held by the Sri Sumathinath Jain Navyuvak Mandal in Delhi last year. At that time we were worried about nanhe’s general condition and I had not given much heed to what she was saying..

Seeing Nanhe back with his smile and a cast on his leg led me to stop what I was doing and savour a very rare moment.. here was a mom saddled by destiny with 3 disabled children, a woman who had lost her husband and who fed her tiny family by selling cucumbers in the day and boiled eggs near the local watering hole at night, a mother who had never given up on her child, no matter how ill or debilitated he was.. one who had found the options possible by herself and left not stone unturned to see her last born walk, even for a short time..

Ram Pyari is a rare woman, one who takes on life with a smile not matter how bad it is, who never gives up and knows that miracles happen when you want them to, and above all that they happen when you have the courage to walk alone.. and a smile like nanhe’s to light the way..

When I come across women like Ram Pyrai, I feel tiny…

The summer of 2006 will go down as one of disturbed and angry students, greedy politicians, brutal policemen and bewildered citizens..

All is not well on planet India.. the hydra headed monster of reservation has resurrected for reasons that only God or a few know!

Reservation was instituted by our erstwhile policy makers as a short term relief measure aiming at unifying and not dividing, at making up for past mistakes and at healing wrongs. When was its spirit hijacked and usurped by greed, I do not know but today it looks like a hydra headed monster that grows new heads each time one is severed.. and far from uniting, divides with glee an already fragmented society..

A simple look at statistics would show how miserably this policy has failed: the reserved seats often lie vacant, the poor get poorer, the drop out rate increases in quantum leaps and no rocket scientist is needed to guess what segment of society those falling out of the net of learning belong to.. and the number of reservations grow and new castes are created. Even when tiny voices of reason are heard begging for better primary education, solutions suggested reek of division: classes for ‘them‘ after ‘ours‘, prep schools for ‘them‘ but not with ‘ours‘..

The dreaded privatisation of education lies waiting to pounce, a deat knell for many children, and making us think of the obvious hidden agenda: prime land!

Wait a minute, are we all not stating, albeit unknowingly, that in the ultimate analysis the contenders of reservation are getting a second grade education, admitting that the constitutional right of Indian children to recieve free education is being violated as they are getting an education that is not up to the mark: 33% pass percentage, schools without teachers and so on..

The question is who will have the courage to wring the neck of our hydra headed monster. Severing heads only serves vested interests in all strata of society, the neck lies elsewhere. where no one is willing to look, in two littke words that have proved their mettle: the common school..

Why is no one talking of the common school, something that countries we seek to emulate have always had: schools run by the state where the admission factor is the area you live in.. in Delhi there is a government or municipal school in every posh locality ( 3 are under 5 minutes away from where I sit): spruce it up, create a Indian Education Service on the model of the IAS and put an end to the proliferation of poor quality private schools that have emerged as clones to inaccessible public schools and cater to the desire of poor parents to give their kids the best they can!

I know it is a tall order, and sadly it is the upper end of society that will block it because of age old hang ups and social nonsense: How can my child sit on the same bench as my driver’s kid! Therein lies the real neck of our monster, in our own attitudes, our own fears, our own minds. I was in a common school way back in 1958 in Rabat, Morrocco. My best buddy was Omar, the local butcher’ son and what linked us amd name us bond was that we were both top of the class in studies and mischief! Omar went on to become a film maker..

We need a MK Gandhi or a Patel like politician to have the courage to do what is right for India. Children of India being hit by water canons and police sticks is not what many gave their lives for.. Reservation was instituted to make all children of India equal citizens, not to sear them with life long labels..

How many more reservations will it need to finally seek the neck… come to think of it after higher education, private jobs someone will think of 49% reservation of the India cricket team!

remember nandini, the spunky bright village girl.. the one whose heart could not be repaired and whose dreams are in our custody, the class V student who as an infectious smile and an admirable desire to learn.. well she amazed us once again..

nandini wants to be a doctor and wants it bad.. this young girl of 10 was already in class V and doing well when she had to leave school and come to Delhi to tend to her heart.. when the ordeal was over and she was given a go home signal, she came to me and asked me if I would help her study.. I told her that she should go back and send me a detailed break up with supporting documents and a bank account number..

I was delighted when I got a neat enveloppe with a beautifully written letter, bills and other receipts as well as a photocopy of a post office account in her name. The cost details are available at this page and we hope that we will be able to raise the funds needed.

At a time when one is always complaining about the conditions of education in india, it is important to place on record the fact that this little school in a small towm in much maligned Bihar, is imparting the kind of education one would like to see elsewhere in India.

We hope nandini becomes a doctor, we have no doubt she will be a caring one.

One was born in a place that has acquired a generic name in north india – madrassi – and the others were born on a polluted road side waiting for unfulfilled promises of an uncaring administration.. one traces its ancestry to one of the 12 rishis, the others to the lost battle of haldighat and hurriedly taken wows that made them nomads.. and yet in the scorching heat of last week they met… part of an hidden agenda, one that has not been worded or scripted but kept as a close guarded secret..

pwhy has been built on many dreams, some visible and some not quite so. if pwhy began with the determination of giving all children a safe environment to acquire a meaningful education and skills, it also has a flip side, one that addresses itself to the other side of the spectrum: the big children who have already obtained it.

The stubborn refusal to accept any funding that looked impersonal, the obsessive campaign for the yet elusive 1 rupee a day , the endless hours pecking at a computer keyboard were all part of the jealously guarded hidden agenda: that of making the two ends of the spectrum meet and not only get to lknow each other but learn from each other..

Over the past months the toiling hours have paid of and many beautiful connections made and last week when K who works for a software giant in the land of the chosen (or so it is said) spent time with little lohar kids, I am sure he learnt many lessons: that you could learn in scorching heat and breathing fumes, that you could smile and be happy even if you had nothing.

For me India will only change when the twain meet and connect, be it in on the school benches of the elusive common school, or as it happened, through bonds created through invisible networks..

A friend and supporter sent a mail with these words: “Are you dreaming to hopefully build a concrete school in the area for such kids one day..”.

This is a question that has come our way many a times… and that is why I thought that it needed to be adressed and answered as best as possible.

Yes, we dream and we dream big.. and we have also sometimes wished for a building, particularly when the heat is unbearable or the rain floods our ad hoc space, or the cold turns us all blue and we have to jump before starting class.. and it is also true that we have now got a small building where our babies and special kids are housed and safe.. but that is where we stop..

When pwhy began, we always saw it as something the community could replicate and that is why we drew our human resources from within even if it meant that we fell out of the net of a myriad funding agencies as we had untrained teachers.. that is also why in the six years of our existence we have taught in reclaimed pig styes and garbage dumps, on the road side, between houses, in airless jhuggis and open parks.. erecting classrooms in a jiffy when we were pushed around and bulldozed, wearing down our detractors. Bamboo poles and plastic sheets were all that was needed.. the idea being to show that to teach children one needed the will to do so, the rest was there if one looked for it.. it also meant that no matter where slums were relocated, classroom activities could be recreated without problems as all resources were right there..

Yes we dream but our dream is to be able to reach out to as many children as possible, and on the way give more jobs to people who have none.. and thus our magic formula remains the same: 2 shifts = 50 x 2 kid + 2 teachers @ 10K per month and it is a succesful one as proved by the school results. There are over 1.7 million kids who run the risk of dropping out.. and that is what should remain our objective if we are to be true to our mission… so the answer is no we do not dream of a building.. we do not have the time to as at every moment children are growing and mising the one chance they may still have…

So when the heat gets unberable, as it was today, we just hold on to our dream and then somehow a cool wind blows our woes away

You think you have seen it all and that you are immune to heart wrenching situations.. well beware that is not the way life is..

Utpal has now been a resident of my home fro over 2 weeks, he adjusted like a fish in water and laughs, plays, eats, sleeps and plays.. true you wonder what goes on in his little heart.. but you ensure not to mention certain words.. like mummy.. and keep your fingers crossed.. even though you try not to, you indulge him a little, and get amazed at his resilience and spirit..

So nothing prepared me for the words Utpal said to an unknown shopkeeper as he looked at some toys – meri mummy nahin hai – I do not have a mother.

My heart missed a beat, I wanted to hug him and say soothingv words, but I watched him with moist eyes respecting the dignity of the moment.. resolving with renewed determination to give him back a mummy healed, and one he can be proud of..

Mom’s are precious and you can only have one.. that is what Utpal teaches me everyday!

we have moved.. to a tiny rickety building, in gali no 3 of the very congested govindpuri area.. away from the larger spaces we had, but we have moved to our own .. the building will house our early education programme and our special a kids in two large rooms on 2 floors.. and though there may be no open spaces and other niceties somehow the kids knew instinctively that the space was ours..

on the top floor, under an asbestos (!) roof is the tiny office, one that ensures that you do not stay in and sink into a comfort zone.. the open space in front has been covered by some straw mats, and potted plants give it a special flavour.. so luch time is almost picnic time.. never mind the heat

news spaces and new rules: no cleaning staff, everyone is responsible for his own space and so on day one istelf kids and teachers were busy cleaning and setting things right..

ouside the door there is a tiny street bustling with activity and with much to discover and learn about.. so many expeditions are being planned and everyone is excited..

happy times at project why!

I wrote about this syndrome earlier . This syndrome is far more complex than we think. As I watch students agitating against the quota system and being beaten up by policemen I feel more disturbed than ever. I realise that even pwhy sunk into the CZS as it basked in the glory of the 100% result..

But let us take time and think.. what are we doing: perpetuating the hoax played by the government of handing out useless diplomas and certificates which give false hopes and shattered dreams.. if we go back it all began when a cynical school principal dismissed a bunch of class X boys saying that they were gutter rubbish and could never pass their Boards. the hurt on those young faces was sufficient for me to quip back:”I taken on the challenge to make them pass”

A motley crowd they were, in the dead of winter as we started early morning classes on the road side.. not quite believing and yet dreaming the impossible.. well maybe the gods were with us as they all passed.. never mind the marks.. as years went by pwhy was supporting students from class I to XII and they were all passing and thus we began slipping into our Comfort Zone.. in our obsession for the 100% results we forgot much of the essential: building character and good citizens..

The reservation knell brought us back to order.. what was important was to give valid options to our children and show them how to build their future.. and the future was not useless low mark degrees but sound vocational options.. and above all the ability to think for one’s self.. the courage to de different if one thinks one is right..

Hence though we will continue our education support, we have to see that children get at least 50% and those who are not able to do so, should be gently guided towards other options.. options that can also motivate them to think about taking the road back to their habitat of origin.. we need to instill back pride in villages, respect for the environment, teach the children their role as citizens and their duties therein..

That this soul searching should come at a time when we are actually moving is also a welcome fact. It is time we stop losing ourselves in false numbers whether it be the 100% pass mark, or the 500 plus children. What we al pwhy must remember is that even if we have 50 students who can uphold the principles we believe we are winners, and if of the 50, 5 take the road back home with new skills then we are champs!

CZS is dangerous as it is insidious and so subtle that you slip into it quite unaware be it in a personal relationship or in a professional one. It robs you of your creative abilities and makes you forget your real goals as you bask in a false glory.. one has to fight this each day and set out new challenges each day.

We are moving and though our babies ands special kids will have a home, our primary extensions will be out in the field where I hope that not only we teach, but also look for solutions that will benefit the community be it the garbage and the flies, or the non-functional public conveniences..

We are moving out of our comfort zone into…

It was brain gym time for teamPwhy, as Sareylom held a day long workshop for our staff! Plates and flags were flung in the air amidst laughter and fun. This was the first workshop where all the staff participated..

The aim was to help individuals integrate body and mind through movement and to improve concentration, memory, reading, writing, organizing, listening, physical coordination, and more… it is all done through series of ludic excercises of deceptive simplicity.. it is only when you get down to them that each participant’s strengths and weaknesses come to light.. so the one that seems so connected and poised is at a loss when plates have to be turned in ways that would faze the best dervish.. and the quiet barely litereate creche worker impresses everyone by her dexterity..

It is for the first time that all pwhy staff competed with each other in a game of equals.. quite an experience.. particularly as the men where often the ones finding simple coordination excercises harder than rocket science..

When the idea of this workshop was mooted, I was a little apprehensive at the outcome, but all my doubts vanished as I heard the peals of laughter coming from the room… I simply tiptoed away

We will soon be moving.. from a comfortable 6 room flat to a motley medley of space. Many are a little perplexed about this change.. but it was necessary as we were slowly sinking into the comfort zone syndrome a.k.a according to me as the government job disorder.. a psychological ailment as debilitating as any of the known ones.

A strange and insidious affliction as you do not even know how and when it hits you and no one is safe from it. Hard working people leave their homes in villages to seek better pastures and the fabled government job in cities.. they soon get the bug as even if they do not get the ‘naukri‘ they acquire the syndrome. They look for employment that will ensure a secure salary and no or minimal work. They soon learn the ropes and the way to unions and courts.. On the way they lose their ability to work and above all think independently.

The safe surroundings of the seven rooms, insulated from the world outside were slowly but surely leading to us acquiring the dreaded urban bug… it was evident in the different attitudes of those still teaching in hardship conditions and those sinking in comfort zones.. so it was time to act.

Come the ides of April and our team will be shaken out of this unhealthy torpor and back to challenging spaces. Some like the special section and the babies will be housed in a small building and the primary sections will move to open spaces close to the homes of the kids… makes more sense that way..

We hope to rekindle the fire that makes pwhy what it is.. and will see that we do not sink into comfort zones again.

This may just seem a fun picture to many, but for me it is much more.. if you look with your heart..

This is our very special section.. one that has been crafted with love and patience with little souls no one wanted, let alone believed in..

Two years back little Sapna (extreme right) could not even hold her head up, today she walks talk and is full of mischief just like any other kid, Tampa now smiles her terrible ordeal a fading memory, Ruchi’s cerebral ataxia is now diagnosed and every offert wil be made to delay further damage, Anuraag can find a space where no one pushes him around and where he can cook to his hearts content, the impossible trio neha-rinky-shaheeda – spent fun filled hours practicing their newfound skills as make up artists on their pals, Munna is uttering his first words and Lucky a very new member of the family has found friends and this beautiful symphony of life is performed under masetro nanhe whose baton is his smile!

These special children are proof that life is worth living no matter what odds you face, that life is worth celebrating no matter how dismal seems.. simply because you are alive..

“He who has a strong enough why“, said Nietzsche ” can bear almost any how“. I must be blessed, having project why!

Life would stop if we stopped asking questions and seeking answers.. I guess that is why people often grow bitter in their twilight years.. there are no more why’s in our lives as everyone is seeking their own and you desperately find cracks to fill, and get msiesrable when you find there are none, so you create them and hence the infernal spiral..

You need to find a big enough why to borrow Nietzsche words, one that will fill your life and make it worth living.. with each why comes a challenge that needs a solution that you must seek. On the way you make mistakes but then you learn and set out again..

The last six years have been a wondrous journey on planet why, a journey of discovery but also a journey of inner growth.. a journey of learning where the teacher is the smile of a child people have given up on, or the will of a mother who refuses to give up!

Ramu brought his report card this morning with a beaming smile.. i remember him saying that he would stand first and he did!

Ramu lives in a cramped shack and has no place to study.. he often has to look after his siblings – babli and arzoo – as his mom comes home late.. and yet he did us all proud.

I think this reportt card needs to be shared.. as it shows how far we can reach with very little.. and vindicates the pwhy way

well done ramu

remember ramu, babli’s sullen brother who was handled with great efficiency by our knights in shining armur… well he did us proud as he stood first in his school in Class V… and that is not all, all our primary kids have passed.. even those we did not think would make it..

as the kids proudly brought their results cards, it was the teachers who came into the office with beaming faces.. somehow they seemed to be more excited than the kids..

remember these teachers are all slum people who never dreamt that they could ‘teach’.. many had to leave studies due to early marriages.. for many it is also an imperceptible social climb, as some worked in factories, others were unemployed and some even cleaned homes.. and they know that they have to prove themselves at every step.. and they have.

these spirited ladies and the Kundan the token man, know that many a times I have to defend them and that sometimes we have even been refused funds as the teachers were not trained.. but they also know that I have always defended them and stood by them quiteky stating that 100%results for six runing years was sufficient prood of their competence..

and one must not forget the kids, who have believed in us and come before or after school, sometimes travelling for over an hour sustained by the meagre meal given by the MCD schools. The kids have always been there cold, rain or heat; they have never complained about the lasck of emenities, the roadside classroom or the porcine neigbours..

so a motley team it is, but one that wins…

I do not know Anshu Kumari.. I just hope someone had shown her the way to our heartFix Hotel..

A leading TV channel aired her story. It went like this: An 11-year-old girl in Bihar is awaiting help for her heart surgery despite President APJ Kalam offering to bear the expenses for the treatment. Anshu Kumari was born with a blockage in her heart. Her father, a security guard, cannot afford the treatment.
On a visit to Bihar in December, the President had promised to pay for the surgery needed to save Anshu’s life. But three months later, there is still no sign of help and Anshu’s treatment hasn’t started…

This is the endemic problem that plagues us.. the huge gap between good intentions, programmes.. and the people they are meant for. Tritherapy for AIDS is now free, but few HIV +ve patients know about it, and even if they manage to reach centres, the way they are treated ensures they never return; many programmes for children never reach them as their parents do not have the voice needed to ask for their rights.. and the list is endless.. some people benefit, the task payer pays but the beneficiary gets nothing..

Good governance is today’s leit motiv and often quoted as a panacea for all ills.. as a first step maybe people like us should take on the simple task of acting as a bridge and beeing the voice of those who still have to learn to speak up.. It is encouraging to see that the voice of the people is now being heard, at least to redress wrong.. but the next step is to inform ourselves of the reality around and ensure action..

In Jammu and Kashmir relocated families are forced to see their children as rations promised were stopped and no work was available.. again a report that was aired today..

We need to take initiatives.. as we have all the tools needed from the Right to Information Act to the judicial system.. till every person garners the courage to speak, we have to be their voice.. and not wait for others tp do so, we have to learn to look with our hearts and beyond ourselves..

If a small project like ours could manage to get 5 heart surgeries done.. anyone can..

One simply has to want to take the first step

nanhe is in hospital again.. and we are worried.. he was doing much better and we were waiting for the doctors to decide upon the next surgery.. two days ago he was unwell and was taken to hospital where he had a series of fit.. he was admitted immediately..

nanhe recovered from the fits but seemed to have disconnected and lost part of his hearing.. he was discharged but yesterday his fits appeared again and he is now in hospital in poor shape.. his smile lost somewhere in the recesses of his brain..

The doctors seem at a loss and we are all distressed.. and praying for a miracle.. and the return of his smile

For young Sandhya the wait continues.. after her chicken pox got over and the 61 K were deposited, sanhya went to AIIMS and we were hoping that a date for her angiography and subsequent surgery would be given fast. Well for some reason or the other it was not and the date written on the green card was 15 may 2006, 7 weeks from now.

sandhya, as some of you may remember hails from a small village in Bihar. Her father is according to sandhya’s mom ‘simple minded’ and cannot work much. they survive on the meagre income they get from the little land they have..

They came to Delhi after Sandhya’s debilitating ailment was detected and live with a sister-in-law in a tiny hovel.. now 7 weeks is a long time.. and guests can start feeling unwelcome.. but were Sandhya to go back, I fear that many would advise on the futility of making the trip again and wasting more money.. don’t forget Sandhya is just a girl.. this is when the famous gender issues we highlight take their most poignant form..

We will try our level best to pre-pone the date, it has become a matter of life and death!

great bike.. all boys want one some day.. a valid dream that can be yours if you work hard would be the normal line to pitch..

well not quite as one has been witnessing with growing panic..

our ersthwile quiet world has been invaded by a new army.. and eebiz is the buzz.. in the past few months in spite of our best efforts, there is a proliferation of new recruits all in their newfound attire of black pants and white shirts and black ties..

the pyramid sale vessel has landed in our slum.. and two captains selected from our very own to lead the new army. One of them is our very first class X student..

the buzz is that 7500rs can give you the world.. learn and earn.. join the internet highway.. just buy a self learning education package!

Stop I scream.. the people targeted are practically illiterate and can barely survive.. but who is listening when the captains have got gleaming bikes and even a ford fiesta… and as more gullible people go scurrying to borrow the needed sum at alarming interest rates, young people get drawn into the net as the captains earn more..

but there are subtler dangers, the unexpressed jealousy and resentment.. the possible violence that can take all kind of hues when people lose all they have invested.. when the promised money remains elusive and the money lender’s is at your doorstep..

Recently many articles were written on young Rubiya from Kerala, a muslim girl who is a bharatnatyam dancer and has danced since age 3.. often to sustain her family. When shunned by the local mosque committee this 17 year old retorts with rare wisdom:“God is one. When I pay ritualistic obeisance through mudras , I am imploring not just the Hindu gods but the supreme creator, which we call by different names.”

The woman in the picture is Saira Bano, and yes she wears sindoor and a bindi! She is the perfect example of the good grassroot politician.. A midwife by profession, she became a social activist to help women and their families..

Armed with courage and rare common sense, she slowly established her network that includes the local politicians and administrators who all cannot help but admire her.. She is the one who helped us set up our okhla programme and stood there at every step, negotiating with goons and cops with her determined smile and never-say-die attitude.. and even got the local SHO (police in charge) and the local municipal corporator to our Republic day celebrations.

Asked about sindoor and bindis.. she retorts: When in Rome.. do as the romans do – for her it was an easier way to get entry into homes..

Now the question everyone wants to ask is about the reaction of her brethren: her answer is simple.. a mussalman is one with true Iman or honour, and that she has.. and as long as her husband and children understand her, she is not afraid of of anyone..

Incredible women in Incredible India

Went to what at best could be called a funding fantasy.

The cause AIDS children in the north eastern states of India; the venue: an up market club; the sponsors: jewellery tycoons; the guest list: Delhi’s very own page almost 3; the chief guest: a minister.. food and drinks; the mandatory fashion show that went on and on; an auction that never happened because there was always an anonymous bidder that bid more than the bidder (seems fishy) and a quiz that did not ask questions about AIDs but about how many diamonds were in the bustier the lady wore in the picture on the screen..! and the finale: a cheap rendering of the actual charbuster where a poor woman gyrated amidst cat calls..

This is not fantasy or an imaginary event, I attended it myself though I had to keep pinching my arm to believe it was real..

rewind to 12 years back
My thoughts went back to a charity event organised in France some years back, where the main message the organisers and the VIP invitees wanted to put across was the need to show people that HIV +ve people could be touched and hugged and this was done with dignity and grace.. I almost felt like going to the mike and telling people that there were some HIV positive people among the guests.. wonder what would have happened..

rewind to 10 years back
I cannot forget the time I spent at Micahel’s care, a haven where people with AID could die with dignity, and the words of a young north easterm mother who was close to death: just sit by me and hold my hand didi.. I did..

rewind to 10 weeks back
In the ward where nanhe was admitted, was a child with high fever. he had lost his parents and was there with his aunt.. all was well till the tests results came back.. he was HIV +ve. The nursing staff’s behaviour changed with immediate effect and as the buzz started attitudes changed.. needless to say he was gone the next time I visited. I felt sorry as I had come with information about the new free tri-therapy.. and in spite of my bst efforts , I could notfind the family.I just have his picture and his smile and keep wondering: is he still smiling...

This is the India we live… And notwithstanding how much the charity made that evening, I wish they had used the evening to spread a little awareness about AIDs.

These words dropped in the mailbox this morning: “I am just about to lose my patience here with ….. I don’t understand what their problem is – seems like they just want to dissect each issue to pieces forsaking the larger picture at hand.”

They were written by a supporter trying to harness some help for pwhy from a funding organisation.. Unlike many pwhy supporters who have never been to see us but still have found us worthy and extended generous help, this friend had been to pwhy and spent time with us..

Welcome to the world of funding organisations and their excruciating paper work.. Welcome to a world where trust and giving have been clouded by extreme caution bordering suscpicion..

Some time back words like these use to infuriate me.. now they make me smile, though a sad smile.. I have diligently answered questions and filled forms while trying to softly share my concern and views.. I have also watched with detached amusement those who have been sent to evaluate us, counting children to meet the mentioned figure.. this in spite of my having explained that ours is an after school centre for children who sometimes leave, where the numbers can vary according to season, and holidays and festivities…

Education, development, awareness are all issues that make sense only if one can gain the trust of the people and to gain that trust one sometimes has to make course corrections and changes.. Solutions are not right if they cannot transcend time and space and that is why we have been doggedly trying to evolve a model which can be self sustained, not only where funds are concerned, but in the realm of skills and resources, keeping the costs to a bare minimum..

So we run with local staff who often to not have the skills to meet the complex formalities of many funding organisations.. though they do wonders with the children. For us getting someone to do that would equal the cost of setting up two primary extensions!

People still laugh at my rupee-a-day funding fantasy.. but it is one I do not give up on and find myself sometimes dreaming of the day when many such centres will exist and will be funded by local people: the parents, the shopkeeper, the flat resident, the local businessman.. and what makes me hold on is the sight of little Vishal counting his cars painstakingly in an environement where is childhood is safe

teach my child english.. was the first things many parents asked me six years back when i first landed on planet why.. now many may think why every parent feels that english is necessary for their children.. come on what use would a vegetable vendor or a mechanic do with english..

this is what i discovered on the brand new sign board of my vegetable vendor who now has to cater for the foreign clients and the new eating fads.. bins spraut, red cabies and spair grace are eaten by all – we are talking of bean sprouts, red cabbage and asparagus in case you had not figure it out – and so are jugnis or jugnu as radhey my scooter driver calls zucchini.. we are in the world of phonetics and hindi prononciations faithfully transcribed by a signboard painter! Do not forget the lemongrace tea!

what a delight.. and let us hope it stays like this.. at least it brings a smile when nothing else does

My heart went out to Nandini has she heaved herself down the lane, her precious books in her hand, I asked her to come and sit with me and then enquired upon what the doctor has said. This matter of fact young lady told me that she could not be operated upon till she was 40 and that she had been told to carry on doing all she did but not strain herself or carry weight..

To bring a smile on her face, I told her that according to me studying did not require carrying weight.. so she could hold on to her dream and work towards becoming a doctor.. Nandini is dying to go back to Sipaul, to her school as exam time is near. I too want her to go as the good clean air and fresh food will go a long way in helping her keep healthy..

I sat a long while trying to find an explanation for the family as I knew the reality: it was too late to repair her heart and that she would have to live with a heart beating twice as fast as a normal one.. she would not be able to do many of the things that a young girl her age does..

Later when the mother came with her uncle, I told them that her body had repaired itself just as a broken bone does if not attended to, and that it was working fine so the doctors did not want to mess with it.. nature does things its way.. I told them to make sure she studies, and not to think of getting her married.. she wanted to be a doctor. Well maybe she would be one..

I would like to see that Nandini finishes her studies and gets the support she needs to do so: books and extra tuition, and when the time comes who knows maybe she will make it to medical school.. miracles do happen if one wants them enough.

Sandhya landed up at hearfix hotel today.. a little 6 year old she needs heart surgery and her parents took all the initiatives and got her checked… something we are pleasantly surprised about as often parents give up, particularly when the child is a girl..

They tarvelled the now famous road to heartFix hotel, one that passes by all previous innmates under the benevolent guidance of my friend the God of lesser beings..

We now need to raise the 66 000 required! are you listening mr god

I hope that sandhya makes it as we were all sad to learn that it was too late for bright Nandini. Maybe when she is 40.. said the doctor .. 40 in a village in Bihar is when you are a grandmother.. I hope her family will understand that the best for her is to be able to study and get a job.. I fear they will marry her and she will have children.. and push her exhausted heart to the brink..

Nandini is condemned to a life where she will have to be careful, where breathing will be an uphill task, where she may not be able to do all she wants to.. but we must see that sandhya who is barely 6, gets a better chance in life

mr god of lesser beings are you listening..

(in the previous post we tried to imagine what a child’s tomorrows may look like, if the persent situation continued; let us now imagine how things can change..)

M’s or s’s tomorrow can be safe.. but if many ifs happen! So let us take it from the top again..

Their tomorrows will be safe if a common school comes into being, if they are taught their rights and their duties as citizens; if they are taught about existing institutions, if they are taught the reality that nothing come easy.

Their tomorrows will be safe if the lure of government jobs is demystified, if they are given the right skills to return to their villages and habitats of origin; if they learn to respect Nature, if they are taught to respect one another, to celebrate differences.

But this no mean task and one has to tread slowly. Today children are still under the spell of cityLights and maybe not willing to listen. But one has to start weaving te web and using every possible to pass on messages..text books have to be rewritten and lessons that show little ramu the village cousin be shown the magic of the city by little manoj should be reversed..

A long way to go, but one that has to be walked.. one step at a time so that M’s tomorrows are safe

M is busy learning.. he is lost in his own world, and as serious about his work as any other child.. wonder what is going on in his little head..

If we look around us, it is difficult to predict what might happen to M, who belongs to a poor migrant labour family.. but let us give it a try:

He could become be the President of India, or an unemployed daily wage labourer.. or maybe something in between, let us say the equivalent of what would be in times to come the equivalent of a courrier boy.. as that seems to be a great favourite these days..

Along the way, he may dream of being a cricketer or a film hero.. as these seem to be the few role models left.. parents and teachers have lost the right to being those one aspires to emulate.. anger and frustration can make him want to be a cop or a politician.. but the wrong kind.. and then dreams fade as reality bites, and one takes on what one can get… an infernal spiral that makes you the part of the faceless crowd..

There are other possibilities, far grimmer ones, also fuelled by dreams – of a cellphone, a dazling bike a MP3 player, a credit card, and M could then be swayed by some extremist group and adopt wrong ways and find himself part of some misguided pack.

And even if M held on bravely and continued to learn he could be one of the kids who made this chilling headline in the national press this morning: Another exam suicide…the fourth this month.

Strange that the four children belonged to different social backgrounds from the rich upmarket child, to the poor slum kid, joined on the way by a middle class girl, all united in their fear of failing..

(to be continued..)

Welcome to why house – for want a better name – this where we will soon be moving, or at least part of us.. this is also a transition time for pwhy.

We at pwhy have always held that children from all walks of life should attend regular school. schools run by the state as that is the only way of ensuring that every child born in India can have access to its right to education, one that the constitution guarantees.. we have more than once voiced our concern at the slowly emerging pattern of privatisation of schools and setting up of parallel second rate systems for the under-privileged child.. that is why we ensure that all our children are mainstreamed into the existing system.. our task his to help them succeed and hence contain drop out rates..

Our first task was to prove to ourselves and others that we could do this with resources drawn from within the community we work with and; it is a matter of pride to say that we had a 99% result in the 6 years of our existence.. It is now time to fine tune our model.

why house will house our babies and special kids but all our primary centres will now be in the field, so that we can slowly create new ones and reach out more children with minimum costs.. taking us slowly to the day where we hope the community will raise the basic costs and we will act as a training-cum-monitoring vehicle.. and provide the add ons..

Our secondary outreach which will soon become self-sufficient will continue where it is.

Jump for my love.. said the pointer sisters in their famous song!

Wonder what A is jumping for…

A is an autistic child and lives locked in his world that no one understands.. not even his own family.. his mother loves him but does not know how to, his father does not have time for his antics..

At pwhy he is happy because we make an effort of entering his world and we do not check him for what may seem strange to others.. we know it is just his way of expressing himself.. for some time now we have been aware that A sometimes does not know how to deal with his abundant energy.. when a friend asked us if there was anything we would like to have, we thought of a trampolin knowing that the kids would love it..

At first hesiatnt the children soon caught the trick but it was A who took to the trampolin like a fish to water.. and he jumped, higher and higher, finally finding a way to release all that pent up energy, one that would not entail any censure or reprimand..

I have always been fascinated by the theory of synchronicity. One of the definitions I like is the following: ” Synchronicities are people that come your life to help you evolve or to place emphasis on something going on in your life. “

I sat this afternoon taking a break from things and zapping TV channels.. two of them caught my attention and interest: the replay of Dead Man Walking and an interview of Dionne Bunsha on the relase of her book: Scarred – experiments with violence in Gujarat. In the former Susan sarandonm was desperately trying to find some way finding a shred of good in the condemned man, and in the later the young journalist was trying to expain that even the worst perpetrators of injustice were convinced they were doing something good. “They are people who see themselves as some sort of Robin Hoods working for the betterment of their religion.”

The little hands in the picture are today raised to show off the paint smeared on them after a fun painting session.. tomorrow the same hands can lend their support to fight for justice like jessica lal’s or to lend support to some destructive mission fuelled by misguided robin hoods! Lst week, when we asked who George Bush was, little 10 years olds said in unison: an international terrorist.. the reason being the innumerable posters plstered all over the slums saying so.

Every day one is made aware of the frightening reality of young people becoming prey to misguided propaganda. This more so in urban slums where life for young boys is not easy and tentations many so the lure of a mobile phone, a bike, a CD player, a credit card can make regular kids into potential criminals… We have seen this happening with dubious pyramid selling agencies who seek out the most vulnerable and offer them the moon!

There is an abundance of energy that exists in kids living in the highly charged atmosphere of urban slums, an energy that is ready to be tapped.. and many are aware of this. It is never the leader who pulls the trigger or plants the exploding device.. they neeeds hands to do so.. hands that today maybe smeared with paint but who knows what will happen tomorrow..

It is our duty as a civil society to do something today and now!

It has been some time since I wrote about nanhe.. so here is some news.. he has been back at pwhy and thrilled to be with his friends.. and rearing to make up for lost time..

Since his return he has had several outings and no sir not only to the hospital: Nanhe visited Qutab minar and went for a birthday lunch to Dilli Haath!

Last week, he even cleaned the coriander that was used in the lovely pullao that the special section made for all the staff…

But little Nanhe and his smile have a long way to go.. another surgery lurks in the corner.. one that needs to be done to remove the many stones in his kidneys..

some people wonder why fight for a child like nanhe.. the answer is simple.. no matter how short the life of a child is.. we at pwhy believe that it should be lived to its fullest.. and nanhe today is doing just that!

It is always very difficult to find the right birthday gift for your adult child.. you are either likely to go wrong or land up giving something they already have..
And yet each parent wants to make the right choice.. Steve and Sandy oudid everyone and found something very special for their son.

Hello–we are the parents of Taylor McHolm, who volunteered at the crèche in Delhi during the six month he lived in India. (In Nov. of 2005 you had a picture of him in your blog, which made us cry, and made us very proud—so we sent it to all our relatives!) My wife and daughter also visited the school with Taylor when we were in India last November. Taylor’s birthday is March 2, and we would like to adopt the crèche where he worked for a few months, in his honor.

Taylor is an exceptional young man, one his parents can be proud of. In his short stay with us he made a big difference and everyday we cannot but think of him when Lali smiles, or the twins walk.. he would be happy to know that Manoj is getting better and that many of the children he loved are learning new things. And kudos to Steve and Sandy who could not have found a better birthday gift: one that will not only bring joy and a lovely smile on Taylors’ face, but one that will for months to come, ensure that over 20 little children can come to play school, play with their pals, giggle and laugh, and of course, learn new things.

So happy birthday Taylor, we miss you and love you!

Note: lali is the one carrying the placard and manoj waves from urmila’s arms