by Anuradha Bakshi | May 15, 2009 | Uncategorized
I have been watching with amused horror tinged with extreme sadness the poll games being played with alacrity over the past few days. These are being reported by all media channels for all to see. It is an almost foregone conclusion that no one party will emerge as a winner in election 2009. It is also a sure thing that the government will be a coalition of many parties.
The poll games I refer to are the permutations and combinations that are being worked out even before the first vote is out of the ballot box. For the past few days we have been witnessing umpteen debates and discussions by the top brains of the media and political pundits about the probable possibilities. The games go like this: if XYZ gets so many votes then it could ally with ABC and so on. What is alarming is that there seems to be no importance attached to values of any kind. Left can ally with right, secular with communal, friend with foe. It does not matter. What matters is who will sit on the coveted chair. The games get subtler as everyone wants his or her pound of flesh. If XYZ helps me bring the state government down, then I will support them, or they can have my support if they give me a coveted post.
Ideologies do not matter. There is no room for loyalty. Anyone can become friend or foe in the span of a second. Manifestos are forgotten and so are promises. No one cares about the fact that millions are without water, or schools, or health care or food. All is forgotten when playing poll games. The cat will be out of the bag in a few hours and we can expect furious rounds of poll games till the dust settles and rather till the moment the coveted chair is finally conquered.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 14, 2009 | God of lesser beings
Sponsoring a child is quite a favourite with NGOs the world over. Large ads in all shades of media soliciting you to become a sponsor are more than abundant. For a few pennies, you are told, you can change the life of a child. I do not know why but I never warmed up to the idea. In days when I was myself a donor, I never sponsored a child. I preferred giving to organisations that I felt were doing good work. I cannot say why, but sponsoring a child was almost anathema.
Years went by and I found myself on the other side of the fence. I was the one needing donors. My bête noire remained and we never went the sponsorship way. I was even vindicated when I visited an orphanage and saw sponsored kids with their Superhero school bags almost ostracised by their peers who only had dull cloth bags. Whenever anyone suggested we go the sponsorship way, I resisted vehemently proffering a litany of reasons against the very thought.
Never say never is a maxim that is always proved true and is not necessity the mother of all inventions? And above all are not the morrows of my children far more important than any quirk of mine? When our little foster care kids were left high and dry by a potential benefactor, the only road we could walk was the sponsorship one. And then when we were recently faced with a huge hole in our budget and had to face the aftermath of recession, the sponsorship issue came up again. Many felt that this was an option that would endure all economic mishaps.
After much deliberations and thought we decided to launch a sponsorship programme, whereby we requested donors to sponsor not one specific child, but children within a group. For a fixed amount of money you would sponsor one special child, or two crèche children or 4 school going children. We at pwhy, would have a blog that would keep the sponsor abreast with everything that was going on. The programme was launched recently and we are still waiting to see whether it would bring the fruits expected. I pray it does.
For me personally it has been another milestone. I look at it as yet another test thrown my way by the God of Lesser Beings to see how far I would go to protect the smiles I hold in custody.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 13, 2009 | Uncategorized
Julie is the girl in the yellow dress that sits in the background of the picture. Ever since we have known her, Julie has always been in the background.
We first met her some years back when she was around 4. The elder of three little girls, she was already a little adult and a mom’s little helper in the true sense of the word. Julie had some delayed milestones and a big growth on her neck, but no one really cared, there was too much to do. We had at that time tried to seek some medical counsel but to no real avail. The family was not interested and we were too new in our job. Then the family moved away and we lost sight of them.
Some months back, the family came back and Julie’s dad who drives an auto rickshaw came to us looking for work. At that time we needed an extra vehicle and so we too him on. Slowly the story of his life enfolded. He owed a huge amount of money to the financier he had bought his vehicle from and was unable to pay his installments in time. A month back the financier’s goons stopped him on the road and took his vehicle away. Julie’s dad was shattered. he came to us for help and we then realised that the poor had paid more than what he had borrowed and still owed a lot more. Apparently each time he had been unable to pay installments, the financier renegotiated the loan to his advantage. The ordeal seemed endless with no real escape for one who earned a pittance. We helped him get his vehicle back. he even had to pay the parking charges for the days his vehicle had been impounded by the vile financier.
Julie’s dad’s plight is not an exception. It is almost the rule for many migrants who come from their villages in search of new morrows. Financiers lurk like predators and smooth talk simple folk promising them the earth and never telling them of the small print. The poor unsuspecting folk get easily lured and caught in an infernal spiral. The game is on and everyone knows who the winner will be.
One may ask why Julie’s dad did not manage to pay his monthly installments time and again. the answer is simple: a medical bill, school fees or a bereavement in the family, any unexpected expense is sufficient to throw the family’s finance out of gear. One must also not forget the fact that often the financier is willing to loan the extra money needed. He will simply work out the loan again to his advantage of course.
We will help Julie’s dad get out of the quagmire but imagine how many people like him live with a Damocles sword on their heads and no hope of help.
Note: Julie still needs medical help. Her milestones are still delayed. We will do what we can to help her.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 12, 2009 | Uncategorized
The children of the special section spent a day remembering their dear friend Saheeda. They decided to make her a beautiful painting where each one of them tried in her of his own special way to express their pain and love. Huge whites sheets of paper were bought and paint set out in little cups. Little fingers then set to work to create the perfect homage to a dear departed friend. After the painting was finished, all the children stood and observed a minute of silence.
See the children at work here:
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 11, 2009 | Uncategorized
This morning Saheeda’s classmates learnt about her death. It was not easy to make them understand what had happened but somehow they all knew it was something terrible. A stunned silence before the first wail: that of Rinky her best friend. Then as the news sunk in, sound of weeping could be heard across the room. My little special class was grieving.
Anjali could not stop sobbing as she asked God why did he take away good souls she loved, first her mommy and then her friend. Little Radha who had recently lost her father wondered why death was again knocking a her door. Champa who is unable to comprehend the simplest of things wept unabashedly knowing she had lost a dear one. Shalini, Geetu, Ruchi, Preeti cried their hearts out. And even Priti, the unloved one, stood silently tears streaming down her face.
The boys too were stunned. And even if they did not cry – boys don’t – their faces were pictures of misery and sorrow. Umesh who never stands still, sat quietly in a corner. Ankur tried to reach out to his friends making incomprehensible sounds. And Anurag looked totally lost.
I watched them silently. These were all children no one wanted. Some could not speak or hear, some could not walk and others were locked in a world of their own that many of us could not comprehend and yet they together and in their own special way mourned the loss of a dear friend
