by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 17, 2011 | Uncategorized
Utpal spent his winter break in a novel way. True he had his fill of screeching battery operated cars and spins on his new gleaming scooter, but his morning were spent at project why where he patiently taught the tiny ones. As son as we reached the project he headed straight for the first floor where ‘his’ class was located. He then patiently waited for the children to arrive, helping with their bags and shoes and ensuring that they settle down.
He then spent the whole morning helping the teacher and taking his role very seriously. When it was alphabet learning time, he climbed on a little stool next to the alphabet charts and was busy making the children repeat their letters. It was lovely watching him do so! He was our new teacher on the block.
I remembered the days when he had been a pupil of this very class and use to waddle in joyfully and participate in all activities with great seriousness. He was a bonny fellow and at that time nine of could begin to imagine what lay ahead. Those were the days when we still hoped that his mom would redress her ways and that he would have a home like all his pals did. But that was not to be. The God of Lesser beings had other plans for him, plans that we were not privy to and were yet to discover. He soon lost his home and in a manner to speak whatever little family he had. A few months later he would enter the portals of his new home: his boarding school.
I think Popples never forgot his past and coming to pwhy is like homecoming. His little stint as a teacher proved that. Children are extraordinary and never fail to astound you. God bless him.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 17, 2011 | Uncategorized
I remember the days when Popples use to cry his heart out when it was time to leave for school after any break. His wails use to wrench my heart and bring tears in my eyes too. Popples left yesterday afternoon. No wails, no sobs, not even a whimper. He waived us a cheerful good bye and jumped in the car where his school pals waited full of stories and things to share. He was all grown up now.
Not quite I must admit. The day before he vanished in his room stating that he wanted to play alone. This was quite understandable as little Agastya my grandson, often appropriated to himself Utpal’s toys and Utpal the kind big brother was always ready to share his toys. But Popples is only 8 and a kid himself and I guess playing big brother was not always fun. So his desire to be ‘alone’ was not questioned.
When he did not come down for quite some time, I sent Gita to his room to find out what was happening. Gita found him crying. No wails or sobs but silent tears that ran down his cheeks while he played with one of his favourite cars. When she asked him what happened his answer was a simple: I do not want to go to school but I know I have to. You see he was all grown up.
When I came to know about this I cracked up and ran to see him. By the time I reached his room the tears had gone. What remained was streaks on his cheeks. I took him in my arms and rocked him gently, like one would a child. He hugged me tight and we remained like this for a long time. No words were needed.
It was also time to ease matters so the next morning we set out to the cake shop not only to select my grandson’s birthday cake for the 21st, but also one for Popples whose birthday fell on the day he would be back for his next break. It was fun and laughter all the way. The choice fell on a gleaming bike cake that would be ordered in time. The dark clouds had dispelled and all was well!
But not quite as Popples tears had touched a deep chord in me. These holidays he had time and again mentioned his mom in overt and covert ways. Be it the lost box or the many instances she appeared in the course of conversation or the most poignant time when the little boy stated that his home was where mom was. How did one explain to a hurting child that his mom was awol! That she had just left town and never bothered to keep in touch; that a court had given his custody to his maam’ji. True maam’ji was precious and someone he loved but she was not mom! And custody or person deemed fit, as the court order stated was too abstract a term to be comprehended by a still tiny little boy.
This time I was also treated to many kisses and cuddles. Normally Popples is quite reserved when it comes to expressing his feelings. He has been so since he left for boarding school and became a little man. Yet the past few days I have been hugged unabashedly. Maybe Popples needed reassurance, needed to know I was there, needed to know he was loved. It was time to put my deemed fit status to test but how. Did I need to ferret the mom out from whatever hole she had dug herself in? Did I need to start explaining to him that mom’s sometimes chose to change the course of their lives? I must admit I am a little lost.
Children should be brought into this world for the right reasons. They never ask to be born. We inflict the gift of life on them and then sometimes wash our hands away leaving the child bewildered and hurting. Today I need to redress the tort, to heal the pain and above all to fill that little boy’s life with abundant love and joy. So help me God.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 13, 2011 | Uncategorized
Yesterday Auntyji, the housemother of our foster care called out to Champa and said: Give Manu his dinner! You see it was Champa’s duty each evening to serve Manu’s plate and hand it to him. Auntyji realised her slip as everyone looked at her dumbfounded. It took some time before things came back to normal and everyone settle down to dinner without Manu, his empty chair a sad reminder of the terrible loss.
When we decided to give Manu a home exactly three years, we also had to give him a family. We crafted one for him. A very special one. It all began with Champa a very special young girl , 4 little kids, a house mother and a special educator. Life was really bindass as this motley crew learnt to live together and create bonds that defied all logic and withstood the test of time. And their joy was palpable if you cared to look with your heart. You just had to watch Manu dance.
For me it was a long home coming, one that began on a scorching day in May 2000 and ended in 2008. Eight long years were needed to build a home and craft a family for Manu. But it was worth every moment, every challenge, every hurt, every kick. When Manu felt terribly sick his little family was shattered and lost. When he came back home from the hospital they all sprung into action to tend to him in what ever little way they could. When the kids left for boarding school, Manu missed them and often asked when the next holidays would be. When they came home for summer Manu would spoil them in his own way and you could see the joy and care in his eyes. When young Anjali joined the family after she lost her mom, she was accepted with open arms. She became family. And recently when young Radha joined the gang, she too was taken in in a jiffy!
The day Manu died, his family was shattered. The girls sat alone in a room in stunned silence, tears rolling down their faces. Soon Manu’s real family appeared out of the woodwork to reclaim their own, the one they had forsaken and left on the road. True predators looking for an ounce of flesh. It was galling to say they least, but we withstood it stoically not wanting to mar Manu’s last journey.
Today three little girls and an old lady are trying to learn to live without Manu. Not an easy task so help us God!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 11, 2011 | Uncategorized
Once upon a time not so long ago, a young girl came to project why with her mom and dad. Her name was Harriet. She spent five days with the special children and made many friends. In those tiny five days Harriet looked with her heart and saw beyond what others see. We shared our joys and apprehensions, our successes and challenges and of course our big dream: that of seeing Planet Why become a reality. This was in 2008, when no one really gave credence to our dream and many even pooh
poohed it as pure fantasy. How could a tiny inconsequential project like ours think so big! But Harriet sat silently and imbibed it all. I could not even begin to think what this lovely girl was already conjuring in her mind.
Harriet also knew that project why was a hand to mouth organisation that needed constant shots of fuel and as soon as she got back to her school, this young pixie got to work: bake sales, collections in her school and so much more and whilst many forget and move on, Harriet never did. I often use to share my thoughts and angts with her, and she was my little ray of sunshine who always wrote back saying all would be well. She once wrote to me way back in 2009 and her words warmed the cockles of my heart. She simply said: … hopefully this will help towards the building of planet why which I am determined to help happen!
Our mail exchanges continued and each was the shot of optimism I truly needed to carry on. And Harriet, like an industrious and enchanting elf continued to weave her magic and ensure that we were never in want.
Harriet never forgot her promise to me: to ensure that planet why saw the light of day. A few days back to my utter surprise she informed me that she had come up with a big idea to help raise funds for planet why: an on line net campaign aptly named: Harriets’ Album! Her idea: to create the World Family Album and to set a record! The campaign would generate funds to build Planet why: the Hope Hotel!
The project is still in its nascent stage but it is fuelled by so much love and compassion that I have no doubts it will succeed beyond expectations. When a young girl with a heart of gold decides to do something, then I know that the God of Lesser Beings becomes the wind beneath her wings.
So let us all help her realise the dreams of hundred of children of a Lesser God and help Harriet create the World Family Album.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 8, 2011 | Uncategorized
Manu left yesterday. He left quietly, without any fuss. I remember how worried we all had been in 2009 when he had fallen terribly sick and we all thought he would not survive. But he did, beating all odds to treat us for a few more months to his smile and his incredible ways.
Since then millions of memories have flooded my mind, each more precious than the other each bringing a feeling of incredible warmth and comfort making me realise that he was more than just a project why child. In many ways he was a source of strength and even a mentor! I also realise that he was the most precious gift that the God of lesser beings had sent me, to show me the way and nudge me to take the road less travelled.
Many pass by the likes of Manu. Some at best would throw a coin his way others would simply recoil in horror. When I first met him he was not a pretty sight: his hair was matted coils, his body caked in his own dirt, his gait unsteady and his cries heart wrenching. I still do not know what made me stop and look into his eyes. But I did and that moment changed my life.
Manu’s story is no fairy tale, of maybe it is with him being the one who transformed lives and conjured miracles. God did have a mission for this broken and fractured soul, and the mission was project why! As it is for him that project why happened and flourished. My mission was to find him a home with a warm bed and a real family. I guess we both somehow succeeded in our missions as Many breathed his last in his warm bed, with his little family: Anjali, Champa, Aunty and Prabin, the ones who had loved and cared for him for the past years. I fell short of mine as I wanted him to be the first inmate of planet why, as its seed was sown the day I lay eyes on this blessed child of God.
When we first met Manu we had to take things one day at a time. Tame him at first, just as the little prince had tamed the fox. Learn his ways and decipher his moods. We did just that and to do it had to settle roots in the very street he roamed. Thus began pwhy.
The first days were difficult as he used to hobble away each time we tried to get close, or let out a heart rendering yell that stopped us in our tracks. But then we realised that he too was beginning to learn our ways and would find him waiting for us or hobbling towards us as he saw our car approaching. As I look back on those days I am filled with an incredible and yet indescribable feeling of warmth and love. My mind is flooded with feel good memories that I had forgotten. There are so many of them that come rushing, each filled with hope and tenderness.
I remember the first meal that I shared with Manu. We had got him some warm rotis and dal and sat him on a stool in front of our little classroom, his meal placed on another stool. He picked up his plate and balanced it on his knees and then patted the now empty stool and gestured me to sit on it. He then broke a piece of roti and dipped it in the dal and held it out for me. I took it and ate it oblivious of the glares of those around me who saw the dirt of Manu’s hands. I only saw love. That was perhaps the very instant when I was taught the true meaning of the fox’s secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. Yes I realise today, as Manu is fighting for his life, that he was the one who taught me to look with my heart.
There are many special moments in the nine years that we have known Manu. Many huge moments like the first time Manu ate with a spoon or the first time he picked up a pencil and drew a picture (it still sits on my wall). I remember his fist ride in a car when we went to the jam session for special children and the first dance I had with Manu. I was amazed at how well he danced. I remember his first pedicure with Shalini rubbing his feet with a pumice stone and he making funny faces and sounds. I recall with pride and satisfaction the first meal Manu had in his own home after spending a night in his warm bed. And that is not all, this child of the streets who had spent the best part of his life as a beggar, turned into a perfect host as if he was to the manor born!
But above all Manu was the mirror to my soul, the one who have me the courage to look at myself with candour and honesty and showed me what I was capable of. Today I am lost yet I also know that I will have to continue my work with renewed effort to honour this very special soul’s memory.
Utpal spent his winter break in a novel way. True he had his fill of screeching battery operated cars and spins on his new gleaming scooter, but his morning were spent at project why where he patiently taught the tiny ones. As son as we reached the project he headed straight for the first floor where ‘his’ class was located. He then patiently waited for the children to arrive, helping with their bags and shoes and ensuring that they settle down.
I remembered the days when he had been a pupil of this very class and use to waddle in joyfully and participate in all activities with great seriousness. He was a bonny fellow and at that time nine of could begin to imagine what lay ahead. Those were the days when we still hoped that his mom would redress her ways and that he would have a home like all his pals did. But that was not to be. The God of Lesser beings had other plans for him, plans that we were not privy to and were yet to discover. He soon lost his home and in a manner to speak whatever little family he had. A few months later he would enter the portals of his new home: his boarding school.
