Don’t despair! Something will come along, and not just because it has to but because no one will let anything happen to the Project wrote a friend in a mail that dropped my way this morning. Did she sense that I was terribly troubled, or was this a message from the heaven’s above, I do not know. But the warm words felt like balm on a hurting heart! Wonder who the no one is; maybe my friend the God of Lesser beings who has always been there for us.
It is true that I am worried: our sponsor a child programme is just not taking off the way I would have liked it to and compassion seems to have gone AWOL in this times of recession. Each day we get our share of blows big and small and can only take them standing and not dare move. Many may wonder why one does not close shop or at least cut costs. The question is valid and deserves a proper answer. One cannot close shop because too many morrows depend on us: whether it is those of the little and bigger children in school who risk the danger of dropping out were we to shut our doors or the motley crew of special souls who can only claim their right to laugh or smile within the four walls of their project why class. In all we are talking of 800 morrows, no mean number you will agree. One cannot close shop because Manu and Anjali would be on the streets as they have no family but pwhy.
As for cutting costs believe you me we have tried our very best. Our classrooms are jam packed, our teaching staff is minimal and our administration the leanest possible. Moreover we cannot move out of the flat where Manu and Anjali live because no one is willing to rent their premises to house lost souls like them. The only thing we have managed to do is make maximum use of the space available and hence the rooms in the foster care house 4 classes during the day. So the only option available to us is to try and reinvent our ways of seeking help and hone our ability to make people see with their hearts. Something will come along is what I have to believe. So help me God!
I am quite Frequent Reader of your blog. Seriously I want to appreciate the efforts you are making to change the world around us. Good Job! Project Why Rocks! These were the words that greeted me this morning as I sat down to begin another day. I must confess they brought a smile to my face and made me forget, albeit for an instant, the plethora of problems that plague my existence.
I am not of the generation that uses rocks and chill! But today I felt years younger. And the comment left on yesterday’s blog was like a starred report card given to your child. As all moms I tend to get terribly critical of project why and look at its tiny defects and crevices with magnifying lenses, taking all that goes on well simply for granted. But this morning I decided to look at pwhy with benign indulgence and with my heart.
Without sounding cocky or boastful I guess I must be allowed to whisper: Project Why Rocks! As I write these words extraordinary things are happening at pwhy. We have two occupational therapists from France living at our foster care with Manu, Champa and Anjali. They will spend three whole weeks helping us improve our special section. Six young and bright students from one of the top management schools of France are also spending a month at project why. They are busy teaching children in different centres. Two of them are even living at the women centre. They are the second batch of ESSEC students. We welcomed their seniors last year. Today I can say that they come to us because we do rock! And that is not all, young Elise is back to pwhy for the third time, having decided to spend her entire summer holidays with us.
Pwhy is not an easy option. To teach here you have to be willing to brave the heat, sit under hot tin roofs or in cramped spaces and put up with frequent electricity outages. And yet each one of our volunteers enjoys what he or she is doing. With schools having reopened all kids are back from the village and every class is choker block. Sometimes the heat gets unbearable but that does not deter our volunteers. They carry on with a smile on their face and a song in their heart.
I wonder what makes pwhy endearing to others and as today I have allowed myself some indulgence I will say unabashedly that what makes us rock is that we have been making a difference to the lives of others and I end this post with a quote by Forest Witcraft : “A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove…but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child.”
I often like browsing through my pictures library and looking at snapshots again. They each tell a story that one somehow misses when one first glances at a new download. This picture was taken who days back, when our fantastic five where dropped back to boarding school for a brand new term. To anyone or at first glance they are just a bunch of kids back in school, posing for a shot before taking off and join the rest of their pals. And yet if one was to pause, take a little time, let one’s memory wander back in time they each have a story to tell.
How can I forget littleBabli and her shrill voice when she first told me about her heart condition. And how can I forget everything that ensued the cynical voices that tried to make us see their kind of sense, the terrible day well after her surgery I saw her dreams shattering and decided to do something, and the day when we finally took the first step towards salvaging her dreams. How can I forget Vicky, Munna’s little brother who I first met as a tiny little boy, and his family that even today struggles for a meal. Or little Aditya and his proud mommy and her terrible ordeal? How can I forget Utpal my little braveheart and the day when I first laid eyes on his little body swathed in bandages and read the hospital paper that sounded like a death sentence? How can I forget how he proved everyone wrong and became the epitome of life itself and my little miracle maker?
Today all these kids that should have never met, live, laugh and learn together and are busy crafting their morrows. Who knows what they will become: a doctor, a police, a choreographer, a musician or a teacher? The world lies waiting for them. My only prayer is that each one of them become good human beings with the ability to comprehend the fox’s secret and see with their hearts. On that day I mean not be around, but from where I am I will surely look down and remember the faces on the photograph and the very special a very special wishwish I made today.
You must watch this clip. It is our dear little Munna talking on a cell phone. It is all make belief and what is touching is that Munna is probably one of our most mentally challenged kids. And yet as you watch the clip you will see him not only talking, but making gestures and seemingly barking orders. He is urging te person on the other side to get water!
Munna loves pretend play with a phone. I wonder who and how many people he has seen using the phone and why of all the thing he sees in his own way, this is something he has retained. I would give my kingdom and more to know what goes on in his mind and how he and others like him see and perceive our world.
Munna is back. His mom brought him to class this morning and all his pals were thrilled to see him. She also wanted us to admit her younger daughter to the creche. Her older daughter studies in our primary centre and goes to government school. Vicky her other son is part of our fostercare programme and will be leaving for boarding school tomorrow.
I remember the cold winter day when I first met this family for the first time almost 4 years ago. I was aghast at their plight. We decided to help them as best we could. But tragedy seems to be a constant companion to some. Munna’s father did get a better job, this time as a bus conductor and with three of the children taken care of, things seemed to be on an even keel. Munna’s family went to the village as they do every year. They came back a few days ago and the father resumed his work. Last week the bus he works in was involved in an accident. A man died. The drived managed to flee but Munna’s dad was caught and locked up. he is still in jail. It seems that he will stay there till the bus owner bails him out or the driver is caught.
We could see the tears welling up in Munna’s mom eyes. She is a simple lady who can barely communicate in Hindi. She simply told her story. When I asked her how she would manage to feed her family till her husband came back she answered: we brought bag a bag of rice from the village. I saw the same dignity I has seen when I had first visited her and felt humbled.
Tomorrow we will see how we can help this family. Today was not the time to do so. Dignity had to be respected and the tears not allowed to flow.
Don’t despair! Something will come along, and not just because it has to but because no one will let anything happen to the Project wrote a friend in a mail that dropped my way this morning. Did she sense that I was terribly troubled, or was this a message from the heaven’s above, I do not know. But the warm words felt like balm on a hurting heart! Wonder who the no one is; maybe my friend the God of Lesser beings who has always been there for us.
