by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 26, 2008 | Uncategorized
This picture was taken yesterday. Our class X boys busy studying on the roadside in the morning sun. They often do that as their classroom, or what goes by that name, is very cold. But somehow the picture took me back to the day it had all begun. I still remember the way a vile school principal contemptuously told me that the likes of our students were simply gutter snipe and could never clear their Boards. The challenge was taken and for want of a classroom, classes began in the road side just a few meters away from where this picture was taken. In those days we did not have chairs or stools, a simple mat sufficed and cups of tea kept the chill away.
What we lacked resources was amply made up by the passion, commitment and zeal we all displayed. I remember coming almost every morning and sitting close to the boys, hoping against hope that that my presence would make up for all that was missing. Time was short as we had just under two months to achieve was seemed impossible: ensure that all our 10 boys cleared their Xth Boards. And they did!
Since that day every year a new batch of students has repeated the feat and I must confess a little sheepishly though, that now one has almost taken this for granted. As time passed and the project grew one had to take on new responsibilities and meet new challenges and many small miracles just went passed unnoticed.
Another picture did take me recently on a journey down memory lane, but this own was different. It brought back the almost palpable energy, vitality and spirit of what pwhy truly was: the passion to take on any challenge that comes our way, even it seems impossible and even if all screams to the contrary. I guess that is what we are all about and will strive to always be.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 25, 2008 | Uncategorized
When the terrible attacks on Mumbai occurred almost exactly a month ago, we like many the world over, watched in helpless horror. We mourned the senseless deaths of innocent people. We searched for elusive answers to the disturbing whys. And as is always the case in life we settled back in our ways and life took its momentarily suspended course. Mumbai somehow seemed very remote and we felt too small to have any role to play. But that was not to be. A wondrous moment was in the making.
A few days back a mail dropped in my inbox. A friend of a person whose life had tragically ended on that terrible Wednesday wanted to provide a small meal to pwhy kids in memory of her departed friend. So on Xmas eve, she along with her friend’s family, came to pwhy laden with boxes of yummy snacks and a bag of shining apples. I am convinced that the kids knew that the moment was almost hallowed. Their beautiful smiles and endearing eyes managed to convey what they could not word. And for those few magical instants time stood still and all that is ugly and sad was forgotten as one watched these little souls open their boxes or bite into their apples.
It was a blessed moment. One of hope and healing. One that urged us to look beyond the obvious and seek real solutions, one that compelled us to see that there were millions of little souls who still believed that a better tomorrow was possible even if the only evidence they had was the sweetness of their first whole apple.
It was a touching moment as I watched the brave little family who in spite of the terrible loss they were still coming to terms with, found it in their heart to come and bring a smile on faces who were still learning to smile.
It was a beautiful moment that proved that no matter how small or inconsequential one may feel, each one of us had the ability to reach out to another and craft something special.
I felt simply blessed.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 24, 2008 | Uncategorized
I am going to be outrageous today as I dare to hope that the proposed school fee hike in public schools may just be a tiny first step to the cherished dream of a common neighborhood school. Let me try and explain what I mean.
That education has become a commercial venture is sad but true. And this is across India as I learnt first hand just a few days ago. Gita who works is our home has a young daughter who lives in Calcutta with her mother. Gita nad her husband who works in the Gulf have just one dream: to give the best education possible t their only child. The child is not ready for school and for the past weeks the family has been filling forms and going through the tedious and onerous admission procedures. They have dutifully bought forms at 500 rs a piece ans completed them. They were shocked when a school told them that they had to produce the mother as she needed to be interviewed. They tried in vain to explain the situation. The nightmare is far from over and I just hope the little girl will get into a good school.
It is the word good that gets my goat!
Over the years certain schools have acquired the label good! Slowly and surreptitiously an insidious caste system evolved in what was meant to be an even playing ground, and slowly and surreptitiously the hallmark of good schools became the size of their fees, and not the quality of teachers or other such parameters. For a good school in Delhi you have to pay in thousands and more. And now with the dreaded rise the costs will become simply mind boggling. And as a parent said : we might have to pull out our children from expensive school to a cheaper one.
During the recent election campaign a politician aptly commented: Having a house in the city is beyond the reach of the middle class. If the fees of children are increased, then schools will go out of the reach of the middle class and only the children of the rich people will get education. Education is the fundamental right of children. This of course was uttered to gain political mileage but it seems to be the way things are going. Schools will soon become out of reach of the middle class and the likes of Gita and her husband who toil day and night to try and ensure their child gets the best.
Rather than the cheaper school can we not start talking of the common neighborhood school run by the state. Or is it is too infradig to think of sending your middle class child to such schools? How long will it take to some to terms with a reality that is staring us in the face. Is it not time to demand that state run schools be made into good schools, and redefine the word good once in for all!
As long as good is defined in germs of the size of fee paid, there is scant hope. Education is not better if imparted in fancy buildings. The best lessons can be learnt under a tree! By making education a commercial activity one is hijacking one’s own future. If good education is allowed to percolate to the lowest level, it will usher a better society for all. This is something we seem to have forgotten.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 23, 2008 | Uncategorized
Meher came into our lives just a few months ago. Her story is nothing short of tragic and yet her
joie de vivre is infectious. From the time she walked into the women centre she adopted us all.
Though officially enrolled in the creche, Meher has become part and parcel of the centre where she practically lives. Her booming voice, her incredible self confidence, her larger than life smile and endearing ways make you forget the scars on her face or her maimed hands.
True that some may find her a tad spoilt, but what the heck, she deserves every bit of pampering and overindulging to make up for all that was taken away from her on the fateful night when a cheap mosquito net caught fire and scarred her for life when she was barely a few months old.
Meher has an incredible spirit. In spite of her tiny age she wants to live life to its fullest. She seems strangely aware of the fact that she is not like others and is probably conscious of the fact that people look at her with a mix of pity and even horror and yet she is not one to hide behind anything. She faces you head on and ensures that you look at her and acknowledge her existence. And once you do she treats you to her breathtaking smile that almost washes away all her scars. Her message seems simple: look at me, I also exist.
Meher is probably an extreme example but over the past decade I have seen this spirit in almost every child that has come the pwhy way. They all bear scars though for most of them these are invisible: scars of humiliation at the hands of uncaring parents, scars of indignity meted by brutish teachers, scars of embarrassment at their poverty, their disability and so on. The list is endless.
And yet, when given a chance even the tiniest one, these children, no matter their age, want to tell you just like Meher: look at me, I exist. They do it in subtle ways: a good report card, a lesson well learnt or sometimes simply a hesitant smile and a hand held out. And if you respond then there is no stopping them.
There are millions of such children, waiting in the wings for someone to simply tell them : I see you and know you exist!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 23, 2008 | fostercare, manu
I am really livid! i was hoping that my mellowed mood of the day before would have lasted me this festive season and gently pushed me into the next year but that was not to be.
This morning a worried Prabin, the house master of our foster care programme walked into my office and informed me about a late night knock that came to disturb the peace of our little haven: a posse of uniformed men who romped in noisily as apparently they had been told that we were running a lucrative guest house!
A very lucrative guest house indeed where the permanent residents are 7 lost souls, given up by all and who pays us in smiles, stars on their copy books or a pile of neatly folded clothes. A very lucrative guest house indeed where the most unlikely roomies learn not only to live together but to respect and care for each other; where a half orphaned boy climbs on a chair to help his disabled roomie comb his hair! A very lucrative guest house indeed where simple meals of rice and dal are shared amidst laughter and chiding, where the TV runs for only an hour and all huddle in one room at night to keep electricity bills lows. I think it is time to redefine the word lucrative!
What makes me livid is the fact that someone found it necessary to go an complain to the authorities. What makes me livid is that everyone on the street knows what we do and yet the cops reached our door. What makes me livid is that over and over again we are bothered by uncaring and heartless authorities, even ten long years d won the line.
What makes me sad is that even ten years down the line, in a country where every one knows what the other is doing, one cannot carry the simple work one is doing in peace. If you want to repair the roof of your crumbling building, before you have even knocked off the first brick, a swarm of uniforms descend upon you with their hands lasciviously held out. If someone kind souls form faraway lands make the effort to a simple gift to the children a cryptic sign language greets you as you again wonder where you went wrong.
I wonder when the prowling predators will knock. I wonder if they were able to see the reality as they pussyfooted across our little home or were they too blinded by their greed. I do not know why I feel desecrated. The peaceful life we had crafted with so much effort and love in spite of the innumerable problems we had faced stands violated. The dream to give Manu a warm bed, or to secure Champa’s morrows or to give four desperate children hope now lies exposed.
And as is always the case in such moments, we find ourselves compelled to wonder where we went wrong.
I am incensed and terribly sad.
