As I mentioned in my previous blog  I have not been out on my bi weekly peregrinations for a week, as my man was away so food becomes the least of my concern. I guess it is a counterpoint to the obsessive food management needed for Ranjan. I  cannot count the number of tomato sandwiches I have gulped in the past week. Anyway, one of the shops I go to is in Mehar Chand Market. We normally take the Sewa Nagar flyover and imagine my surprise when I saw a big new display board on a house stating: HINDU MAHILA SANGATTHAN – apologies for my photographic skills which are abysmal -. A simple translation would be Hindu Women’s Association I guess. Anyway the board was not there last week I promise. Is this a precursor for things to come, I hope not.

As I travelled along to my destination, my mind decided to wander in another direction. The words on the sign stated Hindu woman and I began asking myself what is a Hindu woman compared to another woman. Be you Hindu, Muslim, Christian or atheist you are before all else woman, the other half, the often denigrated one. You are considered a burden as you have to be wedded at any cost. You are the misplaced repository of the honour of the family and that entails all kind of injustices. You are denied a voice and can be used and abused at will. If you are born in a poor family, whatever your faith, you may be denied an education, given a different diet than your male sibling, married off as soon as possible. In your husband’s home you are under the yoke of the mother-in-law who is the same be she Hindu or of another faith. You will be derided should you not bear a son, no matter X or Y chromosomes. Actually this happens also in educated homes.

You are not safe on the street, not safe in your home environment, not safe anywhere if you do not have a male protector be it your father, brother, husband or son and that happens in all families. You are taught to hate the other without any plausible reason. As a little girl you play the same games, and as you grow up like the same songs, movies, actors and so on. You have similar dreams and feel the same pain when they come crashing.

You feel the same pain when you give birth to a child and cry the same tears when you lose a dear one. The blood you shed every month is red, and the one that flows when you hurt yourself is red to. The colour of your blood or your tears cannot tell me your religion.

In this election we have seen attempts at polarisation and heard the word secular again ad nauseoum. For electoral gains politicians use religion to divide but this time it looks like it did not quite work. I see a glimmer of hope in our beating this monster out of our lives and hope that signs like the one in the picture is an exception to the rule.

For me secularism means respecting all religions as this was what I was taught by my parents. I grew up in lands of different faiths. A friend of another religion meant that many more festivals to celebrate together and that many more goodies to eat. It also meant praying in different places of worship as my parents never stopped me from going to a church or a mosque or a synagogue. I am lucky that this was many decades ago when communalism and extremism had not raised their ugly heads.

The women of India face the same problems and need the same solutions. What differs is more the social strata they come or whether they live in cities or villages. They all need water, food and toilets. There is no Hindu or Muslim in these matters.

I hope our new masters will remember that we are just women.

The whole of last week, I have been happily housebound as the husband is away. This meant that I did not have to go to my sundry treasure troves of organic goodies spread across town. The last week was also the one that changed Indian politics forever and for the better we hope. Many who have voted our new Prime Minster in have done so regardless of the candidate of their constituency or the baggage the man comes with. They all voted for change with a capital C and were willing to pass over the past were the man to deliver the dreams he sold. For some it is the end of corruption, for others it is regaining pride as a nation; for some it is access to new jobs, for others it may be revival of the economic slump; for some it is prices coming down and for others simply getting 2 square meals. The expectations are high and the time is short as the people of India are angry, hurt and impatient. They kept their part of the deal – gave an absolute majority – now it is for the new incumbent to conjure his, and I use the word conjure because he does need to deliver miracles.

There are still some who fear this man and feel that his reign may augur for all of us and more so for the minorities. An open letter to the PM highlights these fears should you be interested in reading it. But I guess the fear everyone talks of comes from the bogey of secularism we have been fed ad nauseum and that has been kept alive by politicians as polarisation of any sort, be it caste or religion, suits their agendas and vote bank politics. However, when we look at the results, it seems that the electorate has obliterated this fault lines and voted across the Board. Maybe the game has been exposed or maybe every one realises that these bugbears belong to times gone by. The electorate voted as a Nation and we need respect that. I strongly feel we should give the new incumbents a chance before crying wolf.

So as I was saying, as the husband is on his way back, I need to replenish the larder and hence set out on my fixed beat to get all needed for the man’s regimen. The first stop was at a general store whose young owner has become a good friend and who pre election was not in favour of the party now in power, but as any young intelligent Indian he too was willing to give a chance to the new Government. We got on talking about many things and also about FDI in retail, something that according to those who oppose the policy would hurt shopkeepers like him. What he said warmed the cockles of my heart and made me proud to be an Indian. He simply said: people should have confidence in the Indian tradesman! He, who has been in the business for years said he did not fear FDI in retail as he knew that his customers would always come to him and that is a fact. Take me. I would not travel miles to go to a Carrefour or a Tesco to buy my groceries. I hate hypermarkets and have had my fill when I was abroad and felt like someone out of Chaplin’s Modern Times with my shopping cart walking corridors filled with goods and almost compelled to buy more than needed or even what is not needed because of the promos and other advertising gimmicks. During my 4 years in Paris I longed for the corner grocery shop and the other regular shops I went to in India.

Even if  had a car and drove, nothing would make me battle the Delhi traffic and drive miles to buy what I can get just by making a call and old Mr M charges a few extra rupees, it would still be less than the fuel. But I move in a three-wheeler and these mercifully are not allowed outside the Delhi borders where these new shopping giants will be located. I guess there are many like me we have succumbed to the charm of the proverbial Indian businessman and is not ready to leave what s/he is comfortable with for impersonal and unknown options.

I hope the new powers that will rule us for the next five years will realise the ingenuity and spirit of enterprise of Indians per se and over and above the new jobs they create through economic growth, they will also clear the way for the small people who have a real feel of the pulse of the market and set up shops where needed: be it the street tailor, cobbler or the food cart or even the young man who sets up a 2 day shop in front of an examination centre selling Guide books. They need to be freed from the stranglehold of red tapism and the numerous pockets they have to help fill. In a land has populated as ours we need to open the ways for such initiatives. And those who say, like the last incumbents, that street shops make the city ugly, I would like to state that this is what makes India, Incredible India!

Of course I hope the new Government will look at primary education and the danger of being seduced by Public Private Partnership in education. The children of India will not forgive you that.

A lot hope and a lot of dreams ride on our new PM. May he fulfil them and not lose his way in doing so.

I must admit I felt a little sheepish not going the Congress way this time as this was the party of my ancestors and most of all my mother. But knowing Kamala, even she would not have voted their way as her heart more than anyone else always beat for India. One was vindicated when one came to know about the farce that was enacted in the name of retrospection yesterday. The reigns remain in the same hands. When will they learn.

I will end by quoting what a friend and a retired senior civil servant in the UK wrote to me: I’ve just read your really interesting piece about your new PM. I couldn’t work out what I thought of him in the run up to the Election – humble origins but said to be right wing and divisive etc – so it was good to see him through your eyes.  He offers the kind of hope for a new and better life ahead that I remember so many of us in Britain felt in May 1997 when Tony Blair was elected … but while some good things were achieved by his Government (most of which have now been dismantled by our current lot), he also led us into war and let his Chancellor lead us into economic recession ….   I wish you and India and Modi better, much better!

We all do!

India’s extraordinary mandate given to one man is a watershed moment in India’s history. It is a vote for India. It is a vote that transcends social strata, caste, religion and political ideologies. India has voted for a man who has managed to instil a sense of hope in every Indian across the board. It is also a victory for India’s democracy as a man of the most humble origins, with no fancy education, degrees or western veneer has made it to the highest job. Maybe that is the reason why the humblest Indian has connected with him, or should I say the reason why he managed to connect with every Indian whose heart beats for India. For this one needs to salute Narendra Modi.

I must admit that I never would have imagined that a person like me would salute the election of our new Prime Minister. It is perhaps because what India had become over the past few years was unbearable for someone so deeply in love with her country. The corruption, the scams, the arrogance of those in power, the total absence of any kind of governance on one side of the spectrum, and on the other the total lack of concern for the poor whose every right was denied. There was something terribly wrong. It seemed as if those in power had locked themselves into some ivory tower and were inured to the issues plaguing the poor. Lofty programmes meant to redress problems,   remained just  ‘lofty programmes’ and never truly reached the beneficiaries. They however were good meat for greedy predators.

Over the past months one has seen and heard our new Prime Minister as he criss crossed  the land with zealous fervour. There were times when one felt scared and worried at what the future might look like were he to win. At times the discourse was vitriolic and scathing as the whole tone of this election seems to have been, with personal attacks and counter attacks. But when one heard some of his interviews, he said things that made sense. One was in a quandary. One just kept watching the biggest reality show and trying to make up one’s mind.

The only thing I was certain of, was that India needed a strong Government and a stable one and no matter who came to power it had to be with a good majority. At that time one could not even think of the thumping majority India ultimately gave him; people who pressed the lotus symbol had scant thought about the candidate, they were voting for Candidate Modi! Even the people from the other side of the fence, the one easily manipulated, knew they wanted a strong Government. No one  wanted a PM who was conspicuously AWOL and deafeningly silent. Everyone wanted a Leader, a Statesman, never mind the political hue as by now every voter knows that politicians change colour faster than a chameleon.

Yesterday I heard Mr Modi’s victory speech in Vadodra and it touched a deep personal chord. Before I elucidate the person we heard yesterday was not Candidate Modi, but PM designate Modi, and that was apparent in the tenor of his speech and in the numerous reference to 125 crore people. Anyway let us get to the personal chord. Mr Modi mentioned that this was the first time that the country’s leadership had passed into the land of a generation born after Independence. These words echoed deep in my heart as my own mother refused to marry before India became independent as she did not want to give birth to what she termed as a ‘slae child’.

Mr Modi went on to say that we had not had the privilege of fighting for our freedom, going to jail and bearing the abuse of the colonial masters or dying for our country. I could not but remember the numerous stories I had heard at my mother’s knee recounting the horrors my Nana who was a freedom fighter had gone through. His stays in jails while the family fought to survive; his lacerated back after meetings that ended in severe reprisal that Gandhians like him had to bear without a sound and that a little girl had to nurse; the coarse cloth that Mama had to wear while her cousins wore soft  ones, the glass of flour mixed with water that my grandmother passed off as milk to her children as there was never money for such luxuries. It was entire families who fought for a freedom we never learnt to respect.

My grandfather was a Congressman but one who felt that the Congress should have been disbanded once India had gained Independence as that was its raison d’être. It was a motley crew of ideologies that in his opinion, and the opinion of other I presume, would break apart sooner than later. He had seen the writing on the wall. The Congress we see today has nothing to do with the bunch of young fiery idealists whose life mission was to free India or die doing so. For us, born after 1947, the opportunity to die for the country is not an option, but the question I have often asked myself is why we have allowed things to reach this low, and why we who have a voice and an education keep mute in front of all the aberrations we see each day.

India is not free. It may be free of colonial rule, but it has let down its most vulnerable again and again. Today after 67  years of Independence there are millions of Indians who have been denied their very basic rights. This picture was taken in Central Delhi where a group of Lohars – gypsy ironsmiths – had been living for decades. One fine day, the very administration that had ‘allowed’ them to camp there provided they paid their tithe, came with bulldozers and razed their flimsy homes. The young girl in the picture came back from school to find her home destroyed. It is shameful that children in the capital city of India have to go to school while living on the street. This after six decades of Independence. What freedom is this and why did the bazillions of people who must have passed by this camp over the years never got disturbed by this sight and ask themselves why such people were not given a proper shelter. Imagine having to dress your child up for school in these conditions come heat, cold or rain?

What makes our silence more reprehensible is that the poor live with dignity and honour and survive the worst plight with a smile. When I decided to take up the cudgels on behalf of the Lohars of Delhi, I needed a picture to prove my point. I asked the people in this snapshot to look sad so that I could make my case stronger. All I got is peels of giggles and funny poses. Remember these were persons who had just lost their homes and shelter but would not give up hope. This is the case of millions of people across our land, people who believe and trust that one day things will be better. It is for them that our new PM’s motto ‘good times are here‘ makes the most sense.

Mr Modi says: It is not time to die for your country but to live for your country. This may seem cliched at the outset but just give it some thought. When we look around India with our eyes open we see a growing disparity between the rich and the poor that seems to be deepening by the minute. It is a matter of extreme shame to learn that there are mothers who ferret rat holes to find grain for their children while food is thrown with impunity on the other side of spectrum. It seems that rather than living for India those of us who could and can make a difference have been busy living for ourselves. For a large part of India food, shelter, education, medical facility and other essentials we take for granted do not come easy if they come at all. Yes it is time to live for our country by each one of us doing what we can.

For the outgoing party, the writing was on the wall but it seemed they were to busy looking elsewhere or perhaps they were so blinded by hubris that they could not understand that a new young voter had emerged and s/he had aspirations that differed from their parent’s. The feudal system that had been nurtured in different forms for dubious reasons had surreptitiously vanished and been replaced by a set of young voters who wanted a better morrow.

The young and restless have voted for Modi for pertinent and well though out reasons. They wanted an end to corruption and aspired to change. The common man was fed up with corruption both large and street corruption and above all price rise and the empty promises given by those in power while prices of essential commodities kept rising. The poor was angry when he heard people in high position stating that you could get a meal for 12 or 5 rupees. They were outraged when the planning commission came out with poverty lines that sounded more like a cruel joke: 32 rupees a day! The trust they had reposed 5 years ago had been broken in a cruel manner. Hubris at its best!

Those who voted for Modi did so because they felt he could deliver and run a government that has stood roots on the spot for five years. They may turn against him if he does not deliver what they want: food to eat.

The question is: can he deliver. This election has been a one in a kind as many factors have come together to make the Indian voter vote in an unpredictable manner. Every one wanted change and was willing to give it to anyone who seemed capable to bring it out. The voter was thinking out of the box. The nation was angry for multiple reasons and angry people are willing to do the unheard and that is what happened. They backed Ana Hazare as they saw a glimmer of hope, then backed AAP in Delhi and then dropped it when they realised it did not deliver. The were left with one option and they exercised it as they had not got the answers they sought from the Government in power. Modi had the stage to himself he had to find the right connect and he did, with the 95 million of new voters by giving them a viable future. The question is whether he will be able to rise above his beliefs and be the Statesman we need. Only time will tell but he must remember that the people who have voted him in and can vote him out too.

And for us Indians, it is time we live for India.

Dear Prime Minister

Please accept my congratulations on your resounding victory. The people of India have risen above caste, religion and all divisive groupings to elect you to lead our Nation. Some follow your ideological views but there are others who voted you in because we believed that you would be able to make us regain our pride which had taken a hit amidst the scams and corrupt ways that seem to have become our hallmark.

You have a huge task ahead of you, a task made onerous because of the immense trust people from across the board have reposed in you. Many believe you will become a conjurer of miracles and have high hope in you, hopes that you will be expected to fulfill. It is not an easy task and I pray God will be with you.

I am a humble senior citizen whose heart beats for India and has always done so. Nationalist parents tend to instil this love in their children, particularly children who are born and who grow up away for the Motherland. My father’s dying words to me were: don’t lose faith in India. That was in 1992 and believe me Prime Minister it has not been easy to hold on to that faith.

You have many challenges ahead of you and I am no expert in matters such as economy, finance or other complex issues. I only see with my heart and react the same way. For the past 15 years I have been working with underprivileged children in slums. Today I want to be their voice and try and reach out to you.

Every time we talk of India we take pride in the fact that we have one of the youngest population. One often hears about higher education and the need to create more IITs and IIMs. Sadly we never hear anything about primary education which is now the Constitutional Right of every child born in this land. This is the reality as one just has to step out of one’s house even in our capital city to come across a child begging or working. Mr Prime Minister no child can aspire to enter the portal of an IIM without getting primary education. In today’s India there are millions of children struggling to get a primary education. You will agree that a young demography holds no meaning if young India does not have education and access to sound vocational skills. A recent UNICEF report states that 80 million children don’t complete the entire cycle of elementary education, close to 8 million are out of school. This is a matter of utter shame. Even when children go to school, and I am not taking of schools in remote areas but the country’s capital, they are packed in classrooms where more than 100 children study in spaces made for 40. How can they learn Mr Prime Minister. Our country has failed in providing the very basic education to its children and children cannot wait as they grow by the day and soon it is too late for them. As I humble citizen who has seen the potential of these children over the past 15 years, I urge you to give primary education the place it has in the economy of any country wanting to compete with the best.

Education should not be privatised. There was a time when almost every child went to a Government school and went on to hold the highest offices. We need that Golden Age to come back. Government cannot abdicate its responsibility in this sector. Privatisation is not the answer. Should you go that way, then education will never reach the poorest of the poor and unless we reach them, our country cannot change.

Look at Delhi. It is replete with State and Municipal schools but not only are they overcrowded but they often run in ramshackle buildings and even tents with sometimes no desks! These are often single storied barracks and should be transformed into multi storied schools imparting quality education. More so it is sad that our capital city cannot provide morning school to all its children and so boys go to school in the afternoon, a time not conducive to learning. I do hope you will look at this as though children have no vote, they have hope in you, Sir.

There is one more reality that makes me hang my head in shame every day and that is the spectre of malnutrition and the fact that even today, as you celebrate your big victory, 5000 between the age of 0 and 5 will die quietly in the India you now lead. I urge you to look at this sad and shameful reality and do something. There are some programmes that could have made a difference had they been properly implemented and not hijacked by wily people. ICDS which should monitor children from age 0 to 6 has failed. Had it worked any Indian under 35 should not have been malnourished. You just need to step into one of the Anganwadis in this city to see what a sham and cruel joke they are: a damp hole, a broken weighing machine and a disinterested caretaker is what what will greet you. As for nutrition, as that is what these creches are meant to give, what the kids get is again a handful of puffed rice and gram and that too not everyday!

Mr Prime Minister we cannot have children dying everyday; we cannot have millions of children out of school.

I hope you will hear the voice of the voiceless.

A citizen of India

A few weeks ago we got a huge shock. One of our most important funders informed us that come September they would be reducing their seizable contribution by half! The reason: India was now considered an unsafe place for tourists and as our monies was dependent on the numbers visiting India, there was no option unless a miracle happened. If no miracle then we would have to make a Sophie’s choice and be compelled to close one of more of our centres.

In my wisdom I put everything on hold praying for a miracle or if not that, at least for an epiphany to save my children. It is sad that when anything goes wrong in the country it is always the voiceless children who pay for it. I remember that when India imploded its bomb in 1998, when I had just decided to start project why, many of my friends who run organisations helping the deprived saw their funding cut overnight. Now how does cutting the funds that help an autistic child or a slum kid help make a statement against the policy of a country?  Beats me.

I agree that when a foreign tourist is raped the people in her country would become ballistic and I also understand the negative reaction that will ensue. I also understand the anger we saw when the young woman was brutally raped and assaulted in December 2012 in Delhi. I can also understand the demand to see the perpetrators hang! But sadly hanging a perpetrator, making stringent laws, and all other such solutions cannot and will not stop rape or abuse as statistics have showed. Rapes have not stopped. Rape and sexual abuse is a hydra headed monster whose multiple heads will keep growing again and again unless we are able to find a way to cut its 8 mortal heads and bury his 9th immortal one. But first one has to identify all these heads and work out the right strategy.

Last week a group of journalists from the country of the women who has raped recently came on what is known as a ‘fam’ ( familiarisation)  tour. These are organised by the Government or by the tourism and hospitality sector  to showcase a country/place. The group also wished to visit one of our centres. I met with one of the members and a friend for lunch a few hours prior to their meeting with a honcho at the Tourism Ministry. She suggested I accompany them but I refused knowing I would not be able to keep my mouth shot at the lame excuses and statistics I knew would be thrown at them. I was not wrong. That is exactly what happened. The pompous official took great pride in telling them that India ranked 19th in women’s safety in the G20 list. I guess he must have also spouted out figures to prove his point. I guess there has to be an official view that defends the indefensible!

That was his job and I presume he must have given himself a pat on the back.

The next day the group was visiting us and would want to know my take on the situation. Actually it is this visit that compelled me to put a bit of order in my head and come up with something that I hoped would sound coherent. Before I go on, I wish to say that these views are mine alone and are based on what I have seen and experienced in the past decade and a half and on common sense if such thing exists.

What today manifests itself in rape, sexual assault and targeting of women in varied ways is indeed a hydra headed monster that has several different heads. It all begins with gender inequality and the sad truth that girls are not wanted from the moment they are conceived. This is unfortunately not a feeling solely perpetrated by the male gender, but more by the female one starting with the mother-in-law and so on to the point when the mother itself resents the arrival of a girl child. The seasons are many but I think the main reason is the financial burden of the marriage and if by any twist of fate the roles got reversed, I wonder if it would be boys who would find themselves at the receiving end. Whatever the reason a girl in India is considered to be in the custody of her natural family as her real home is that of her husband’s. This notion is present in the folklore of the land and is the subject of many songs and even film scripts.

In homes today, including middle class ones, one can witness the fact that girls and boys are treated differently in the choice of schools and education opportunities and in poorer homes even in the food given. At a very young age boys realise that they ate ‘superior’ to their girl siblings and often a 12 year old may be found admonishing his older sister on what he thinks is inappropriate behaviour: talking or laughing loud, looking out of the window etc. The mother, instead of scolding the son will simply laugh it off. This is happening even today. I myself was shocked to hear that whereas the number of boys in a class in Government schools was around 40, the number of girls in equivalent classes was often above 100. The reason is simple. Boys are sent to public schools which are considered better than state run ones. These schools charge fees that the parents happily pay for their sons. The daughters are sent to the State school which is free. That is one aspect of the problem that needs to be addressed.

You will think that this has no relevance to crime rates but please bear with me.

We now need to move to another reality altogether. I am talking of a new class of metropolis dwellers that has grown by quantum leaps in the past 20 to 30 years. This is the migrant population either brought by contractors to meet construction labour needs – this has also happened in western countries – or families of have left their villages in search of a better future for their children. These are mostly illiterate families with strict traditions that they adhere to. Today children of these families have grown up with their own dreams and aspirations which clash with their parent’s traditional views. These young people have urban aspirations that are fed by what they see on TV as a television is a must in the humblest of homes and with the advent of credit facilities, people living in slums are able to acquire most of what their kids want.

The TV serials and Bollywood films of today are very different from the films of yore years that extolled values like family and traditions. Today’s movies are highly westernised and seed impossible dreams in the young minds that watch them. A new social group has emerged in cities and with poor quality education, few skills and little employment these youngsters are rudderless. They fall easy prey to drug mafias, gambling dens and political and religious groups always on the prowl for easy fodder.

Early marriage was and still is the preferred solution for raging hormones but the young people fed on TV viewing and urban realities resist these. Even the law has raised the minimum marriage age. Sex education is practically non existent in State run schools. The chapter on human reproduction barely addressed the biological process but does not touch on gender issues. Sex is never spoken of at home and these children have no mentors to go to. They are left on their own and the heady cocktail of partial knowledge, drugs and alcohol, misplaced conception of the position of a male vis-à-vis a female is a recipe for disaster. Another head to our monster!

Another reality that we do not take in consideration is also the change in the social profile of the western woman. Over the past years the colonial attitude that people of my age had to bear when a hippy with dreadlocks was attended to before you in a shop or restaurant has gone. With the emergence of a new super rich class in India who is always on the prowl for new ways of spending their money, one is witnessing the emergence of a new market for young girls from western countries.   Today it is fashionable to have a western lady shower flowers on your guests at the wedding of your son or daughter or even serve at a cocktail. Event planners do offer this service. And we all know about the IPL cheerleaders.

This has brought about a change in perception in the Indian mind one that can have unfortunate ramifications more so because unlike Europe, Indian men are not used to being refused. Blame it on their mothers!

I am sure there are many more reasons but these can at least put us in the right direction. So where is the solution if there is one.

The only thing that comes too my mind that can address the hydra headed monster is EDUCATION! I know it is not magical pill or panacea. I also know that it not a quick fix but will take time and patience but the only way to address all the issues at hand is education that begins at an early age at home and then in schools.

I cannot begin to imagine how many little girls and boys could be spared child sexual abuse if they were taught the notion of good touch/bad touch at home and taught to say no. How many women who not have to suffer the indignity of being told that they are incapable of producing sons, if the X Y chromosome story was told. How many youngsters would learn age appropriate sexual behaviour and   thus handle their teenage responsibly. The list is endless.

The question is how does one make this happen in a patriarchal society, with religious fanatics and politicians who are on the prowl to annihilate any reasonable programme.

Maybe what we need to ask for to counter rape is not the death penalty but healthy sexual education in schools and perhaps tourist guidebooks should include some information about the social realities of India and advised their clients on appropriate dressing and above all dealing with the opposite gender.

This could be a beginning.

I have borrowed the title of this post from an article that appeared recently in the New York Times: What’s So Scary about Smart Girls and chose to illustrate it with a picture of the 1936-1937 batch of girls from Benares Hindu University. One of them is my mother who fought every odd possible to accede to education at a time when girls rarely went to school. She managed not only to finish school but to go to BHU as a resident and then go on to get a PHD. She was able to do that because she had to formidable allies: her paternal grandmother and her mother and browbeat her father. That was 80 years ago.

Things have not changed as girl’s education is still not fully accepted. So it makes you wonder what is it that makes people – parents, religious authorities, political entities – scared of educated women. Let me quote some parts of the article I mentioned above which are quote pertinent. The author says: Why are fanatics so terrified of girls’ education? Because there’s no force more powerful to transform a society. The greatest threat to extremism isn’t drones firing missiles, but girls reading books. The article suggests that educating girls can change demography and quotes a study that found that for each additional year of primary school, a girl has 0.26 fewer children. So if we want to reduce the youth bulge a decade from now, educate girls today. The article has interesting findings and goes on to say educating girls doubles the formal labor force. It boosts the economy, raising living standards and promoting a virtuous cycle of development. Asia’s economic boom was built by educating girls and moving them from the villages to far more productive work in the cities.

However what really caught my attention was when he states that to fight militancy, we invest overwhelmingly in the military toolbox but not so much in the education toolbox that has a far better record at defeating militancy. This is something I have been repeating for the past decade and a half over and over again. Education and education alone can transform society.

I have been on the receiving end many times. I must confess that the first time I was thrown out of a park by a posse of little politicos simply because I was teaching a bunch of slum kids under a tree, I was dumbfounded. How could teaching children be a danger to anyone. But as time went on I realised how dangerous it could be to those who wanted society to remain static as it suited everyone’s dubious agendas. As time went I understood why the pass percentage was kept at an abysmal 33% as it would ensure that the child was unable to accede to higher education, why State run schools are poorly run and cannot meet the growing demands, why the Right To Education has absurd flaws. Education can rock their boat forever.

I was recently informed that one of our funding partners would be curtailing the size of their donation. The reason was that India was no longer Incredible and thus westerners were shunning it. I guess we are talking of rapes and women safety. I felt terribly sad as it should have been the other way round as helping those who are trying to educate underprivileged children would ensure a safer India. But this is no quick fix solution. It is a long haul but the openly way we can see the change we want provided our patriarchal society, our wily politicians, our corrupt officials allow this to happen.

This afternoon I caught bits and pieces of one of the last election pitches of the star candidate of the ruling political party. This party has been in power for almost 6 decades. However to me the substance of the speech was 6 decades to late. Actually I was reading an interesting book while the TV was own in the background. Most of the time it was the annoying drone one has been forced to get used to. Thank heavens the election saga was under 60 days or as science has proven this jarring and ear splitting campaign could have become a habit we may have found ourselves missing one the show was over. Anyway let us get back to the point in question. As a real member of the second sex, to borrow Simone de Beauvoir’s expression, I am good at multi-tasking, a skill honed to almost perfection during my booth simultaneous interpretation days when I often found myself listening to and then translating some technical speech while writing my postcards! So while I was engrossed in a fascinating book on the Defence of Food, my ears perked up to the content of the speech where the candidate was speaking about heart surgeries a subject dear to my heart – excuse the pun! I snapped my book shut and was all ears. The candidate in question was I guess enumerating the ‘perks’ people would get were his party voted to power again. He was talking about having met ‘mothers’ who came to him as their children had been diagnosed and needed open heart surgery which he estimated at costing 4 to 500 000 Rupees. I have been looking for a transcript of the speech but did not find it. He went on to say that if they came into power the Government would pay for these costly surgeries. I could not but help smile as one does not have to be a rocket scientist to know that the funds will never reach true beneficiaries but get lost in transit and the child in question, who to quote his words has 2 years to live, would certainly die.

I could not help but go back to 2006 when a man hobbling on a stick entered my office with a sheaf of papers in his hand and utter despair in his eyes. He had knocked at every door possible to help him get the money required for his son’s heart surgery. Every door had been banged at his face though in a country where reservation is made a panacea for all ills he came under more than one category: OBC and handicapped. I could not remain a mute spectator. His son was operated upon and is today a smart young lad in class XII. Since we have repaired more than 20 broken hearts and the cost is nowhere near 500 000 but 100 000 max! I felt sad for the thousands of simple souls listening to the words being thrown at them and trusting what was being said as I knew that they were just words and nothing else.

There were many promises made in this speech, promised that as I said were 6 decades too late. Education was also promised. Education that is now a Fundamental Right for every child born in this country. Then my question is: what happened to the children who beg at red lights or work in tea stalls. The promises were lofty and years too late. The Act that came after almost 60 years or 3 generations and is totally flawed. Maybe what politicians needed to promise in Election 2014 was a simple engagement to ensure that all past social policies and programmes would be implemented in their true spirit. We do not need new ones; it is they who need new ones to garner their pockets. Have you ever asked yourself where the 2%  on education levied each time we eat out and pay our taxes. One would have thought that our taxes went to education and social programmes. An interesting article debates the issue. It says: What could be more important for our country than spending on basic education, public health and basic infrastructure? Whatever the government spends on these heads must be fully financed from its primary revenues. In other words, these subjects should have the first claim on the government’s resources. Whatever might be our politics or ideology, no one can deny that these should be our priorities, and after we have adequately provided for these, we should spend on other things. Why then does the government charge a cess for education and another cess on higher education? This seems to suggest that the fundamental priorities of the government are not concerned with improving the lot of the poor, the needy and the citizenry as a whole, but something else. So the question is what is that something else?

To this I would like to add that its time we asked where does the money go! More so because the Right to Education Bill is so drafted that it will never reach the poorest of the poor. Instead of using all the money levied in taxes and ceases to upgrade existing schools to a level which would even attract the middle class to them, as was the case many years ago when the plethora of public schools we have now did not exist, the State chose to come up with its absurd notions. The Bill has been criticised by many as it chose to ignore quality altogether. Today in Delhi, there are in certain schools more than 100 children in a class. Forget all else. 100 kids cannot learn anything in 35 minute periods. To address the notion of quality the State rushed to its favourite cure-all: reservation. Hence 25% of seats in all private schools would be reserved for ‘poor’ children. All private schools means school as diverse as a local school and the uber rich school. The State simply abdicated its constitutional obligation towards providing education. And of course there is more: the right to education covers children from age 6 to 14. Ha Ha! What happens after that is any body’s guess. And not to forget that the pass percentage remains a paltry 33% when colleges require 90%+ for securing admission. So if the child had no dropped out along the way, his chances at gaining higher education at a reasonable rate is limited to open universities, even colleges or correspondence courses.

Back to the speech. The candidate stated that a farmer’s son could dream big and become a pilot and that his Government would ensure this. My humble question is that to become anything  s/he needs basic education and you have not been able to provide that even with ceases and more ceases. So how does he become a pilot. Stop bartering false dreams. Clean up your act first!

And talking of deja vu it has been more than a decade that we have been cleaning your act, albeit with a handful of kids, and though we still do not have a pilot, we have amongst our alumni an international ramp model who was born on a roadside! Talk of dreams. Not to forget the now thousands of kids who have completed their studies honourably and hold good jobs and have broken the cycle of poverty and acceded to the middle class. This was also what was promised to millions in the speech.

The said speech was 60 years too late and so were your promises. The only I got out of it was that I was on the right path. I just hope that I can continue to do so. There are too many dreams to be salvaged and fulfilled.

RG and my team

An article in a leading weekly bought back memories long forgotten and if that was not enough to jog the memory hard another article did the needful: making me decide to share one part if my life I had chosen to keep to myself for my own reasons. But it seems to be open season as books are being published with gay abandon about the very years of India’s history that I am about to write about. Some of you may know about what I could call my brush with the political world. Being an interpreter and conference administrator I was called to service conferences of all kind and thus came into contact with the establishment and for personalities. This is not meant to be my life story but let me simply say that a series of occurrences led me to via many conferences and even the Asian Games to be called upon one evening after the Congress had lost the 1989 elections by Rajiv Gandhi who requested I come to see him at Race Course Road asap. I think I was with him in less than an hour that included a drive from South Delhi and the lengthy security procedure. I had only met him briefly after the elections results and did not quite know what to say but he put me at ease, and with his charming smile told me he needed my help. I need to tell you that prior to this day, I had been engaged in making a data base of Congress workers with my team and hence I guess my administrative capabilities were known to him. Anyway he asked me to follow him and took me to a huge room that was filled from floor to veiling with unopened letters. The simply asked me if I would handle this. It was a challenge I could not refuse. The pile contained letters form Heads of State as well as from humble workers, Xmas and New year greetings as we were in December and much more.

I told him I would get back to him with a plan. Though I knew I would give my time pro bono, I also realised that I would need a team, computers and much more and thus would have to come up with a monthly budget. The next day I had some clear ideas and was all set to share them with RG, but was surprised to find a posse of politicians, some who today are big shots, waiting for me. They said they would be giving me instructions about how to manage the Congress President’s (CP as everyone seem to love acronyms) correspondence. A red light started flashing in my mind. This is was bad news but anyway I would give them a patient hearing. It took me a minute to know that I would not do what they wanted as the first sentence they came up with was: you have to answer all letters written by senior Congressmen and then the coup de grace you will only answer letters written on good quality paper and never to answer nasty letters. I nodded as expected and was just waiting for a chance to leave these men and their ideas and storm into the CP’s office and lay some ground rules.

RG must have known that there was something wrong as I entered his room. Being who I am I told him to find someone else for the task as the conditions his people had set were not acceptable. He asked me to calm down and tell him what happened. I explained that for me his correspondence was a unique occasion to build a PR exercise that would help him regain the trust of many and hence letters by Congressmen on beautiful paper was the lowest priority while the nasty letters were top priority! He smiled and said he agreed 100% and that it would be my way. I felt smug but also knew I had made a whole set of new enemies! I also knew that every letter would be answered no matter what.

We worked out a great system  were not only did we answer all letters but also initiated our own on festivals, birthdays etc. So imagine my surprise when I read an article entitled pre-paid connection that begins with these words: Namaskar! This is your MP speaking. I wish you a very happy birthday and apologise for not being able to attend your celebrations. But I will try to meet you the next time I visit the locality,” says a voice message by Election Awaaz, a Gurgaon-based political consultancy firm… “If you are the voter who gets a personalised call like this, how would you feel? Wouldn’t you vote for the MP?” asks J.P. Singh, founder of Election Awaaz. 

I guess this is how the hundreds of thousands of people from across the land felt when they got an unexpected letter from RG, more so those who had sent vitriolic letters and probably never expected then to be answered. I remember one person who wrote back saying something like: I still do not agree with your views but was consider you a true gentleman!

I guess my team and I were an avant garde political consultancy firm. Makes one feel quite good. Our task was herculean as we had to open thousands of letters each day, categorise them, read them and answer them. Our rudimentary computer and its floppy disk was a help but nothing compared to the software one has today. And then the letters had to be folded, put in an envelope, the envelope glued and then stamped and posted. No SEND button! It was a great learning experience particularly as one understood how political parties worked and how it was not for the likes of me.

In 1991 elections were called and I suggested that we write a nice and positive letter to everyone on our data base. I made a draft and submitted it for approval. Imagine my horror when my letter was rejected and a new draft sent to me which was arrogant and supercilious, the exact opposite of the image we had built over the months. I was up in arms again and sent a rather hard note to CP telling me that I would not be party to the draft he had sent and would resign if forced to do so as I could not do anything that I know would harm him. He sent me a short note stating: your draft OK! Sadly things did not turn out as we would have hoped.

So imagine my surprise again when I read these words in the article mentioned at the beginning of this post: In a new book out this week, My Years with Rajiv and Sonia, Rajiv Gandhi’s aide, former Union home secretary R.D. Pradhan, quotes the late prime minister saying in 1991 that he did not want a negative campaign. His advisers Rajiv Desai, Sam Pitroda, Suman Dubey and Prannoy Roy wanted Rajiv Gandhi to be confrontational. Roy, writes Pradhan, wanted a campaign that would “shock and wake up” voters. Rajiv was adamant, and said no.

Hey that is my story! And I still stand by it.

Seeing what goes in the name of electioneering today makes me gag and run a mile. Where have all the gentlemen gone!

Amidst all the inane news about election 2014 that has turned out to be a circus of the absurd with Chandni is 3, weighs 3.7 kilos. This tiny soul lives in our capital city, a city where famous for its gargantuan parties and its brazen and unabashed habit of throwing food be it at wedding parties or what I call religious feeding frenzies. Just a stone throw away from such wasteful nosh-ups, lives a little girl who his 3 year old and has the weight of a new born. She should have weighed at least 10 kilos. The article quotes the finding of an NGO who ‘mapped’ the children of a single block of a slum resettlement colony and found that one in every five kids who had their heights and weights measured was malnourished and one in nine had “severe acute malnourishment.” Of these, six children were in such a condition that NGO workers took them to a hospital. Chandni is one of them. Does this gives you goose bumps or it is just a news item that you will simply forget once you have closed the newspaper and finished your cup of tea. Such news gives me sleepless nights and finds me seething in anger at our politicians and administrators who fill their pockets with impunity and alacrity. Such news makes me mad at the likes of me who are not even willing to share a coin to help such children. I say this with confidence and full responsibility as I have knocked at so many doors and had them slammed at my face. But no matter what, I will continue writing about it as this is my brand of activism that costs nothing but a few extra grey hairs and lines on my face.
senseless debates on pointless topics like toffees and semantics, today’s newspaper brings us a news item that should make us hand our heads in shame. The article is entitled:

I have quoted these statistics ad nauseum but here they are again in caps this time: IN INDIA FIVE THOUSAND (5000) CHILDREN UNDER SIX DIE EVERYDAY OF MALNUTRITION, THAT IS 1.82 MILLION A YEAR, 208 AN HOUR, 3.4 EVERY MINUTE.

Does this still live you cold.

Here is more. Malnutrition under the age of 5 has severe and life long consequences, should you be lucky enough not to be part of the 5000/day! Here is what Wikepedia says: Malnutrition increases the risk of infection and infectious disease, and moderate malnutrition weakens every part of the immune system. For example, it is a major risk factor in the onset of active tuberculosis. Protein and energy malnutrition and deficiencies of specific micronutrients (including iron, zinc, and vitamins) increase susceptibility to infection. In communities or areas that lack access to safe drinking water, these additional health risks present a critical problem. Lower energy and impaired function of the brain also represent the downward spiral of malnutrition as victims are less able to perform the tasks they need to in order to acquire food, earn an income, or gain an education. Need I say more? By the way do you know what Marasmus and Kwashiorkor mean? They are form of malnutrition.

The bottom line is that you cannot make up for the lost years. Were you to take over a severely malnourished child aged 5 and give him the best nutrition possible, the harm would be done. The very fair and almost blond kids and protruding bellies that beg at traffic lights suffer from Kwashiorkor! It may already be too late for them.

But let us get back to Chandni and her story. Had things run in our country, things like the ICDS (Integrated Child Development Scheme ), remember, the programme that was set up in 1985 and meant to monitor all the children of India through Aganwadis (creches), then Chandni would not have been malnourished. But as is said in the article “Many of the children found to be malnourished are enrolled with aanganwadis,” says Pardarshita co-founder Rajiv Kumar, “Their growth should have been monitored and they should have got some nutrition from there.” Aanganwadis are responsible for the delivery of the Integrated Child Development Scheme (ICDS)-the only one reaching out to children under six years of age. Chandni’s father, Pramod, a security guard, says none of his five children have ever been weighed at the aanganwadi they go to and they “sometimes get some khichdi.” Get the picture again. You may ask why these aganwadis do not work?

I guess you know the answer. The money is largely siphoned off and a semblance of creche set up. The caretaker is often the local politicos nominee, the room is a dark dank hole with nothing to attack a kid, a broken weighing machine lies in a corner gathering dust, a vague meal is given sporadically.

Little Chandni cannot sit up. She has 4 other siblings and her father a rickshaw puller cannot sit with her in hospital while she is cared for. Her mother needs to look after her other kids, some who attend school. It is heart wrenching to see that in spite of the terrible conditions they live in, they know that education spells hope! Shame on us and on our rulers!

Chandni’s father wants a disability certificate for her, but d**** everyone, Chandni is not disabled and should not have been in this condition if things worked in this country of ours.

Imagine how many Chandnis there are in our city.

ICDS alone cannot help but at least can raise the red flag in time. To combat malnutrition you need clean drinking water, clem surroundings, sanitation and adequate nutrition. Chandni’s father earns 6000 rupees. 2000 rupees go in rent. How can you live in 1000 rupees a week!

To end this post let me draw your attention to another news item in the same paper. Our incumbent PM will not have to pay for water or electricity when he moves too his new house after elections.

This is India!

Today I would like to give you a glimpse of how the other half lives! The images of the over the top house I visited a few days back compelled me to browse the bazillion photographs taken over the last 14 years. They all are from across the divide. What I was looking for was snapshots of homes as well as slums themselves to give you an idea of what goes on behind our iron curtain and to show you how people beat all odds and don’t just survive, but live with dignity and courage.

The question I often asked myself is whether the right to shelter, that is not enshrined in our Constitution is an act of omission, or whether those who framed this perfect peace of legislature believed that it was implicit in the other rights like equality or simply the right to LIFE! The supreme court has debated the question ad infinitum and though it has ruled in favour of a right to housing in some cases, it has failed in others. It is a fact that millions of people are still living in sub-human conditions on pavements, in squatter settlements, bastis, jhuggies or unauthorised slums and are under constant threat of being evicted or even smoked out as happened recently in Delhi. 700 homes were gutted and the question that arises now is the one about ownership of the land on which these homes were erected. It seems far more complex than one could imagine and a true political and administrative nexus at play. The story goes something like this: the camp had 1200 tenements that were ‘owned’ by slumlords and ‘rented’ out with rents ranging from 1500 to 2500 rupees per month. The land it seems ‘belongs’ to the DDA (Delhi Development Authority) as confirmed by an NGO activist.

Today the slum dwellers have decided to take things in their own hands. They want to build their own homes. One of them gives the real picture of their predicament: The thekedars gave us nothing. They became so greedy that the area where four jhuggis stood some years back now holds at least six. There were no toilets either. We had realized that the land does not belong to them but this fire has given us the chance to set things straight. After realizing what we are up to, the thekedars have been threatening us with rape and murder. We have complained to the police. One wishes then success but even if you are an optimist one wonders how they will beat the system.

Talking of system, there is another story in the same paper that illustrates spot on how politicians deal with such situations and how empty their electoral promises are. Good to know in the election times. The article is entitled Slum families wait for flats. In 2009 slum dwellers of Bhawar Singh Camp were present at the inauguration of a redevelopment scheme for them with the promise of  a flat with two rooms, a kitchen, a washroom and access to elevator. It is one of the PPP (private public partnership) whereby a certain amount of the land was to be for homes for the poor and the rest could be exploited by the developer. A brochure was distributed and I guess a plaque put up. Lakhs were spent on the inauguration party.

2014 and nothing has happened. An RTI filed by another activist revealed that no building can ever come up on this land as it is part of the Ridge and Reserve forest area. Voila! Nonetheless the same Minister who inaugurated the foundation ceremony was back asking for votes. When quizzed on the subject you can guess what his answer was that it will be his first priority as soon as he is back in power! I have watched this cat and mouse game in every election – municipal, assembly and parliamentary – over 3 decades now. The promise is always the same and it is also never fulfilled. The people wait just like Becket’s protagonists in Waiting for Godot.

Some years back I had met an activist who is also an urban planner. She is the author of a fascinating book entitled Slumming India. In her opinion the root cause of urban slumming lies not in urban poverty but in urban greed. Her views may be radical but are nevertheless true and I urge you to read this interview of hers. I will just reproduce part of her answer to the question why is India becoming one huge slum: This is happening because of the moral bankruptcy facing our intellectuals, activists and celebrities. They are allowing our cities to die rather than taking steps to the contrary. To cite a few examples, if sprawling farmhouses for a handful are allowed to occupy prime space, then the poor will be forced to huddle in huts, as there is just so much urban land to go around. If fancy malls, used by a few, are allowed to occupy a lot of space, then shops catering to the needs of the majority will come up on the roadside. If only a few industrial houses are given prime sites, then smaller factories needing propinquity to ancillary establishments will come up in residential areas. Get the picture.

Before I continue, I would like to share a few pictures of the slums where we work and our children stay. The conditions are abysmal and shameful. But as I said people live with all the dignity they can muster.

The street where Babli lives

You cook outside

Home is where mom’s feed their kids with love

Imagine if there was a fire

She goes to school and does her homework in one of these shanties

Proud of my home and my TV

Slums are tucked away in any space available

You can barely stand in this one

A nostalgic picture of the Lohar Camp now destroyed.

You will not believe it but residents of all the homes in the pictures above have voter’s ID Card, Adhaar Cards, Ration Cards and all other identifications that make them a citizen of the city. Yet they continue to live in abysmal conditions. Sadly, they are not ready to see the way as they are prisoners of a feudal mindset that makes them believe blindly in the promises of wily and greedy politicians.

After meeting Ms Verma and getting convinced by her views, I requested her to come and talk to the residents of the slums we worked in. We had a workshop but what Ms Verma wanted them to do was a far cry from what they have been doing for ever. She wanted them to take on the next politician who came to their door soliciting votes and claimed s/he would ‘regularise’ the slum in question. She also wanted them to tell her/him that they knew their tenement was illegal but also knew that there was land earmarked for them etc. You get the picture. It all ended there and they still wait for Godot. How could they give up their feudal past.

So now the moot question is whether right to housing is a fundamental right. As it was not stated clearly in the list of fundamental rights by those who framed our Constitution, it was left to the State and the Courts to decide on a case per case issue. And this has been going on forever. In the article I mentioned earlier it seems that there are sufficient loopholes in the law that despite the existence of such rights, the state can still get away with not providing its citizens their fundamental human rights.   Whereas in some cases the Courts decide in favour of the citizen and in the 1990s the Supreme Court reiterated the right to adequate housing as a distinct constitutional obligation of the state, both under the right to life and under Article 19(1)(e), which guarantees the right of every citizen to reside and settle in any part of the country. But in 2000 the same court rules that ‘…displacement of the tribals and other persons would not per se result in the violation of their fundamental or other rights…’ Confusing to say the least.

Today the Supreme Court has pronounced 2 judgements in matters related to housing. In the first case that relates to what is known as the Campa Cola housing Society case, it dismissed the appeal of the residents and have directed them to vacate the premisses by May 31st. Residents were duped by builders who built more flats than sanctioned. In 2002 these extra flats, numbering 100, were declared illegal and the residents were served demolition notice. They knocked at every door possible but to no avail. They have lost their homes for no fault of theirs.

The second judgement concerns a High Courtorder directing demolition of two 40-floor towers in Noida. The Supreme Court has agreed to examine agreed to examine real estate major Supertech Ltd’s plea against the Allahabad high court’s order directing demolition of two 40-floor towers in Noida and ordered the company not to sell or transfer flats in the buildings. One wonders what the final verdict will be.

Housing is the perfect playing ground for politicians and business men. In the bargain the poor suffer as there is no safety net for them and no one wants to give up  land which is the proverbial hen that lays golden eggs.

The question we need to ask is whether shelter is a fundamental right. It is a right that has been recognised internationally. It is time we did so for the sake of our pavement dwellers, tribals, slum dwellers etc as they cannot depend on interpretations of a law that has too many loopholes. As is highlighted in the article quoted above the right to adequate housing an important component of the right to live with dignity, but also therefore an obvious component of the right to equality.

Till housing is not recognised as a fundamental right, how can any social or economical rights be fulfilled. I hope our new Government looks at this crucial issue.

Yesterday I went to a party, yes me the recluse put on her best clothes and best face and accompanied the husband to the engagement party of a golfing buddy of his, the same person whose house I visited a while back and  wished I had sunglasses on to protect me from the glare of the artefacts on display. It was the most over the top house I had ever seen. Yesterday was the daughter’s engagement and one pair of sun glasses would not have been enough. I also discovered that there was a fountain modelled on the Trevi one in Rome spurting precious water at the entrance of the house. I guess I missed it the last time as it was not on. Anyway, everything is Italian in this house. It was, by Delhi standards a small party but everything on offer was uber special. My best clothes paled in front of the glitter and dazzle of the ladies, but somehow it made me stand out. I have always liked that! The guest list was a mix of people who as usual did not know each other and I sat myself on an expensive sofa, hoping the colour of my outfit would not run on the pristine white and gold of the priceless seat. Music was playing through a piped system and there were flowers everywhere. There was an abundance of drinks, soft and hard,  but I settled with my all time favourite H2O. As the husband and I had eaten our vegan food before, we did not eat, but I feasted my eyes on the abundant vegetarian fare on offer with name cards stating what the dish was. I did a double take when I read: Yakitori in a martini glass! It was actually a vegetarian skewer sitting in an empty martini glass! Do a few pieces of vegetables on a skewer become a starred dish if placed in a swanky glass. Maybe they do.

We did not stay long as we were not planning to dine. On the way back, it took some time to get back to reality. After some silent moments, the husband and I shared thoughts about the evening and both of us wondered at the many ways the rich spend their money. If I had surplus money and no project why, I really wonder how I would spent it. I have been blessed from the time I was born to a surfeit of everything and am more than satiated. True there have been times, like now perhaps, where a few extra pennies would be welcome to patch up some cracks in the wall, but what the hell, the cracks have their own story to tell and life is good with them, but I really do not know what I would do were I to win a lottery and not be allowed to use it on project why.

As we reached the traffic light close to home, it turned red and within no time a young girl maybe 7 or so with a baby at her hip knocked at the car window. It must have been well past 9pm. The work day had not ended for these two children of India. That knock was felt deep in the gut by both of us as the husband worded what we both felt: why does this not outrage us?

I ask you that question again: why do we not get outraged when we see children begging! The we here is a collective one. It is me, you and above all the people who are supposed to make and implement decisions, programmes and even Constitutional Rights. Remember the Constitution that everyone quotes and which has a Preamble where WE, the People of India resolve to give all its citizens social, economic and political justice and equality of status and opportunity! Does the child that begs at the red light have equality of status and social justice. And by the way that child also has a right to free and equitable education! Let us forget for a moment about all the other goodies that are sought in her/his name and that we diligently pay for in the form of taxes and ceases. Let me remind you that Delhi has a 2% cess on Primary Education that you pay each time your kid has a hamburger at Mc Donald’s. Where does this money go? And how come the kid that begs at the red light not go to an anganwadi as stipulated by the ICDS that has been in force circa 1975 and according to which every child born in this country has a right to nutrition, immunisation and even  proper psychological, physical and social development! And the programme is still very much on the anvil as recruitments for the said programme are on going. So how come these kids are not part of this programme.

I refuse to believe that politicians, government officials and supposedly responsible citizens do not travel along the roads of the capital and do not encounter such children. How come no one sees them and wonders why they have fallen off the safety net we all pay for. Why does this not outrage everyone and compels us to do something. True they are not our kids and not vote banks so why care.

Not one of the candidates in on going elections speaks about beggar children, malnutrition deaths @ 5000 a day or hunger and yet they exist. No one talks about the abysmal condition of habitat for the poor even in the wake of a recent fire that engulfed 700 homes last week in the country’s capital. Millions continue to live in squalor quietly servicing the rich who enjoy their yakitoris in martini glasses.

The two Indias are not divided but live side by side. The problem is that one of the sides has blinkers on their eyes and refuses to acknowledge the existence of the other.

M died yesterday. Another victim of the dreaded crab. Another unsuspecting victim of the medical system that feeds on the patient’s trust and panders false hope. M was not even forty, a mother of 4 children the youngest being just 2. I have known M for almost a decade. A feisty woman with a quick temper that could flare at any moment, M was a survivor, a survivor at any cost. When pwhy was just in its infancy and I still naive, she came to me asking for a job. Upon hearing that she had finished school, I suggested she join the team as a primary teacher.

Two years ago, when she was at the end of her fourth pregnancy – in her case she had 3 sons and wanted a girl – she told me about a suspicious lump in her breast. At that time I was not as knowledgeable as I am now, but still I gave her some advise on nutrition and also asked her to meet my Tibetan doctor which she did. But how can a stem of innocuous pills given after a mere checking of the pulse compete with scanners and toxic potions administered in nuclear war like environment. And though I had entreated her to continue taking her pills even if she opted for conventional therapies, I guess the pills must be still lying in the corner of her home.

I know that M and her husband must have been every angry with my adverse reactions to conventional medicine and my pleas to stop eating meat – M belongs to a community where pork is a must – and eat seasonal vegetables and fruit. Meat in their community is a sign of abundance and wealth, and her I was asking them to take it off their table. I know they never did.

A few days after our ‘chat’, M informed me that they had found a cancer hospital – private of course – that was offering a 100 000 package deal that she was convinced would cure her. I tried again to tell about the way cancer operates and that cure in conventional terms is just five years + one day, but the look on her face made me stop my spiel. She had been seduced and fallen hook, line and sinker for the treatment on offer. She was operated upon and given radio and chemo therapy and suffered all the terrible side effects it entailed, but also lymphedema of one arm which resulted in one of her arms being swollen and practically non functional.

I presume that hospitals do not counsel patients sufficiently and in spite of her swollen arm M though she was cured. I guess the follow up protocol was not followed and the cancer spread rapidly and by the time they realised that she was ill again it was too late.

I felt so sad and helpless and angry when I heard about her death. With the knowledge I have today, I feel confident that had she listened to me, she would have not relapsed so early, but then a person who tells you to eat certain things and give up others becomes non-grata forever.

In the case of people like M, who have no medical insurance and little money, alternative therapies should be an option. Yet they are not. Often such persons feel that we are denying them something we have benefitted from for ages and that they have toiled for and just accessed. Though it makes me sad, I can well understand where they come from. Imagine being told by one form the other side of the divide that you should not opt for swanky machines and expensive drugs but become vegan, chew some cannabis seeds or eat a few apricot seeds. It is humiliating and infuriating I agree. So you watch someone you know die because you could not beat the system whilst retaining the dignity of the other.

This is the power of modern medicine, the stranglehold of the big pharma companies, the result of the millions in marketing a treatment that does not always work, or certainly does not work on its own. I truly wish NGOs dealing with cancer would also propagate the truth about alternative options to the weaker communities. It would make all the difference between life and death.

Cancer is a word, not a sentence!

May M rest in peace and may her children be safe.

I am quite baffled by these elections as I do not think most of us know what we truly want. Early this year the capital of our country took a bold step and decided to vote for a new political party in spite of its being in its infancy. What was remarkable is that the support cut across caste, religion and social strata. I guess the reason was that they positioned themselves as a part that would fight corruption at all levels. Hence the overwhelming support they got form the poorer sections of society was understandable. But I was surprised at the kind of people who told we they were voting AAP: the  owner of a upmarket store, my doctor, my old friend known to be a long time supporter of a political party and so on. It seemed that everyone was fed up with the existing political system and wanted change. People believed in them and gave them their trust. The mood was euphoric. Everyone truly felt that the humble broom would transform into a magic wand at the stroke of midnight and solve all problems. One can understand the elation of the poor who saw dreamt of free water and cheap electricity and the hope of the perennially extended hand of the policemen vanish, but what about us who voted with alacrity, did we stop to ponder before believing?

What happened next is for all to see. Sleeping with the enemy to acquire power. Was it hubris or falling into a well honed trap? Perhaps a bit of both as power is the most potent drug on earth and when it comes so close, few if any can resist it and though they did not expect it, how could they resist. I guess we who casted our vote in favour of this new party, never felt they would come to power. It was a surprise for all. The wise thing would have been to desist from power and have another election that would have given a more definitive result.

The 49 days saw change that unfortunately was forgotten when the party demitted office. Few remember the audit of state run schools and hospitals of the simple fact that corruption at the lower end was contained. But we cannot cry over spilled milk. The reality is that an error of judgement at that time had brought a loss of faith in this party.

What we all forget is that this was a young party pitched against well oiled machines. We also forget that it was a movement that became a political party by force majeure and was perhaps not ready. An excellent article analyses the future of AAP and is worth reading. The author asks: The most important question facing the party is an existential one. It must define again, for its own self as to what role it seeks for itself in politics. Is it a third force challenging the Congress and the BJP or is it the second front challenging all politics? Does it seek power as an instrument of change or does it act as a political conscience keeper for the system as a whole? I believe most of us wanted it to be a political conscience keeper for the system in the first place. Once it had the structure, cadre and experience, then it could have pitched for power. Today it is at the verge of self destruction. The author feels it is important that the AAP experiment continue for it injects a vital element that has been missing in Indian politics. The AAP is attempting to redefine the very idea of democracy by making it a more participative practice. And just for that we must not write it off as such opportunities come once in a lifetime. One should not let it die.

The results are a mere two weeks or so away. Once the campaigning frenzy has died and the numbers are out, the party must do a sincere and honest evaluation of its journey and reinvent itself. Should they fail to do so, then they might just become a line in future history books.

The din of the elections is getting unbearable! More so because every day we are assaulted with speeches that sound more life a verbal warfare between individuals that often reach levels that are unacceptable. One would have hoped to hear about visions and plans for the future; about education and health as these are the foundations of any society; about employment and price rise; in a sod about how would things be better for us were to vote for one or the other candidate on the list. But what we are coerced into hearing/reading is personal and below the belt jibes about individuals or abhorrent remarks about communities. I do not care whether a man is married or not. That is his personal life and should remain so. You may remember that the world came to know about the existence of the love child of a President at his funeral and no one cared. Quite the opposite people were touched that all his loved ones were there.

Elections should be about what matters. It should not turn into a free for all where decency and basic courtesy are cast to the wind. I wonder if people really believe that these kind of shenanigans cut ice with anyone. Washing dirty laundry in public, slandering one another, bringing in family and personal relationships is in poor taste.

I am a little concerned about the hubris that seems to have permeated one and all. The nomination filing roadshow of one of then star candidates was quite something. It seemed worthy of Bollywood with a heart wrenching script, pomp and colour, and all the needed props. There was a dangerous frenzy in the whole show that reminded me of some of the worst event of past history where individuals were glorified and deified. It seems that one man has the magic wand that will solve all problems. This is what many think and to me this may just be this person Achille’s heel. If he wins, imagine the victory parade!

What is done is done and cannot be undone. We want to know about the future. How will each one address the matters that concern us as individuals and as a country. How long will we have to hang our heads in shame when we hear about children dying by the minute, rapes occurring each day or when we are asked the question is India safe!

I am also sick and tired hearing about models: the Gujarat model, the toffee model, the son-in-law model and God know what else may still come our way. Some want us to believe that Gujarat is a Shangri La within India and were its model to be projected on the whole country all our problems will vanish. Others want us to believe that this is not the case at all and the reality is quite the opposite and has the worst social indices. I as a normal being am uncomfortable with both views.

I was comforted when I read an article entitled Gujarat- Its Smelly, Its Dusty , Its Poor. Its India. It is worth a read. It shows you that  if  you keep your eyes, ears (and nose) open, Gujarat is just another   smelly, congested, dusty, inept  Indian state stuck firmly to India’s side to its West.

What we need is a model for India. Wonder who will give us that.

Sometimes all it takes to put a big smile on my face is browsing through my almost ten thousands pictures of project why spanning the fourteen past years of my life and finding the one that will lift the cloud of the moment. It can just be a happy face, a tender memory, a funny incident or simply be reason enough for a good pat on my back!

These pictures were taken by a young photographer who posted them on FB – God bless FB – and were snapshots I have never seen. I just could not help smiling and grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. It is true that I see these kids, but not as often as I would like in recent times, put I always prompt a hurried and harried: say good morning to Ma’am by the teachers and dutifully the children rise and chorus a rehearsed and droning Good Morning Maaaa’m. Some smiles, but their smiles seem contrived, others – the new ones- look frankly scared. As I am always short of time I beat a hasty retreat.

I sometimes wish I could be a fly on the wall to share real moments with my 1000 kids. As things stand today this seems a pipe dream. But maybe, if I can conjure the miracle of ensuring sufficient funds for pwhy and am still not too old and creaky, I will spend my last days on earth with these kids.

When I ask my staff to get photographs because I need them, they dutifully do so. But not being professionals, again the pictures seem stage managed.

So it is pure delight when a kind photographers offers to offer his/her time and gifts me these precious snapshots and the smiles that go with them.

Thank you Aditya.

Respected Prime Minister,

I chose to write to you today as we still do not know who you will be, though the guesses are few, but somehow writing to a yet anonymous person is easier for me. Let me too remain anonymous though I can tell you that I am a child, who remain anonymous and voiceless. I was born in this city and live in a small shanty house with my family of 6. Our room is so tiny that after fitting one bed there is no place to move but my mother does everything to make it feel like home. Like many others from our village, my parents came to the big city to look for a better life, if not for themselves, at least for their children. They thought that in the big city their children could be educated and have a better chance in life. My parents are illiterate. My father is a daily wager and my mother looks after me and my siblings. 

My home has a tin roof and one small fan but at night we barely fight in it. There are mosquitoes as our slum is tucked away in between factories and a dirty drain goes by it, and we spent many sleepless nights. Last year my brother got malaria and as there is only one quack in our area, he did not treat him right and by the time we rushed to the hospital which is faraway, it was too late for him.
The house is lower than the road so when it rains the room gets flooded. My mother had to fight every day to get enough water and we have to go to the toilet in the open. But at least I can walk and run not like my friend Radha who has a bone disease and walks on her hand. Her house too is very small and when her little brother walks over her, he limbs get broken. In the 12 years of her life she has had more than 50 fractures. Were her house big, this would not have happened. So I guess I am lucky. On my way to school, I see little children begging and looking at them, I feel I should stop complaining. But Sir, do you see them too, and if you do, why don’y you do anything for them?

I do go to school but Sir, how can you study in a class of 80 children and learn anything. My parents cannot afford private tuition and the teachers do not teach us anything. I am lucky because I go to a project before school and they teach me, but my friends move from class to class without learning. I know a boy who is in class VII and cannot even read. I am told that every child has a right to free and quality education so Sir how come I do not get my right. But then at least I go to school. What about the child that begs at the street light. Do you ever look at her when you stop at a light but I forgot big people like you do not stop at lights, you just whizz through. Maybe you should stop at lights and see these children.

I know there have been many schemes to help the poor as we are called, though I do not consider myself as poor as I am better than the beggar child, but they do not reach us. We do not have the papers needed and my parents do not know how to get all that is required to get some cheaper food. You see you need to know people or pay money and we have neither. There are days when my father does not get work and we go to sleep hungry. My mother makes us drink some chilli water and then we have to drink more water and somehow our stomach gets filled. And this goes for every programme that is made for the ‘poor’. The ones who really deserve it remain invisible and anonymous. The reservation you made in good schools for 25% of ‘poor’ children will never reach us.  Wily people become ‘poor’ as they know how to get papers and their children study in these good schools. I see all the nice buses that pass by as I walk to my school which is very far from my slum.

When we sing patriotic songs at school and salute the flag, I do feel proud of being Indian even though my life looks miserable. But what if I told you that my mother always smiles and tells us that there will be better times and I Sir, am determined to beat the odds whatever they may be. I will make my dreams come true.

But Sir, when you come to power, will you give a thought to us invisible people who are part of this society and give it our best, even if we remain unseen. 

I hope you do. Maybe you could just start by stopping at a red light and looking deep into the eyes of the little girl who will knock at your window. And if you, open the eyes of your heart.

A child of India

These elections have been a reality show in the true sense of the word, unscripted and immensely entertaining. One of the surprises it sprung was the toffee model, where one of the contestant alluded to his opponent having sold land for one rupee, the price of a toffee. All this is jest and bantering but I  would like to share a real fact which would make anyone cry ion despair.

I have recently written about the sports programme the husband would like to initiate for the 2500 children of the nearby Government school. I do not know if he will succeed or not this is one mean obstacle race that may even need at the doors of Justice! I just hope it works

I simply want to share a thought that come to my mind this morning. The school has an annual sports budget of eight thousand rupees for 2500 kids: that is 3.20 rupees per kid per year or 0.26 rupee or 26 paise per child per month. Not even the price of a toffee. Wonder who makes these absurd budgets.

I have recently sent a link to a series of incredible pictures about incredible India! I posted them on my Facebook page, but if you have not seen them please do take a few minutes and treat yourself to something unique. These pictures exemplify all that is great about our wonderful country: its ability to beat all odds, no matter how challenging they may be. Who would have ever thought of perching an iron on two books and boiling your milk. This happens only in India. You may smirk or snigger and say that it was all done for the camera. Maybe so. But I would like to differ as I have been privy over the past 14 years of how the other India, the one forgotten by politicians and crony capitalists, the one mentioned in speeches and made promises to, promises that are never kept but that make good fodder for lining pockets, the one that has learnt to survive in spite of everything and survive with a smile. That is the real India shining, the one that we have all conveniently forgotten.

I am no economist, politician, administrator, decision maker and anything of this kind. I marvel at having been able to create and sustain project why in spite of my total lack of skills. Come on I cannot even manage my house budget. I guess in the case of pwhy someone up there holds the strings and makes me move in the right direction. But even I can see that all the empty speeches and models that one has been/is hearing will never solve all the problems of India.

Over the years I have despaired at the slow death of all the street vendors and hawkers. Once upon a time their cries were part of your day-to-day life. You did not have to step out of your home to mend a shoe, get your silver chain repaired, give your clothes for ironing, buy your bread and eggs, your vegetables and fruits and so on not to forget ice creams, chaat, and more. And then slowly they became rarer, their cries slowly disappearing just like the call of the birds. The rich suddenly decided that letting all these hawkers in their colonies posed a ‘danger’ to their safety. And gates were erected, and certain hawkers given access while others were rejected. Don’t ask me why. I have no answer. I thought we lived in a free country where every citizen could roam wherever he wished. I watch with sadness and anger the rising of swanky gated communities where even lifts are segregated. I wonder which lift a maid takes when she is with the child she cares for. I guess the one for the haves! I must stop as all this makes me mad.

We all know that one of the big problem the country is facing is undoubtedly that of employment. And in my humble opinion unless small enterprises is not given its rightful place, we will never be able to solve the employment issue of over a billion people. I wonder what our young Prime Ministerial aspirant means when he states over and over again: The poor need a launch pad to progress. A poor man cannot eat roads and We want more people involved in the process of nation-building.

One agrees in principle but then a few kilos of grain doled out or a few days a work under some maladministered schemes are not the answer. On the other hand new industries, new malls, big retail outlets etc will only give jobs to those with the right skills. Remember how irritated we get when we have a poor girl or boy answering our call to some call centre or the other and not understanding our English. Next time be a little indulgent. But even with these new promised avenues, there will be still millions who will fall between the cracks: the ones who are not educated, who are to old, who do not have the skills required. But what they have is priceless: a will to survive, sound common sense and an ability to create employment for themselves. No I am not joking. I have seen these kind of people day in and day out and have marvelled at their ingenuity. They are spot on and respond to the market forces far better than you and I, without the need of market studies and the likes of them. I will give you a few examples: when a recruitment examination is on you will have one or two bright larks spreading a sheet outside the venue and selling guide books! If the number of people from a particular community or region settle in sufficient numbers in a place you have people who set up road eateries catering to their local preferences and when their festivals come you have hawkers selling all that is needed. That is what I call enterprise!

But these entrepreneurs are hounded by the police and the administration and have to pay hefty bribes  simply to earn their living. I do not know what I would do were my road side tailor – the successor of the erstwhile veranda tailors of our grandmothers – or my ironing lady who has been ironing our clothes since before I got married and whose hair has greys along with mine, removed. I would feel orphaned!

Everyone wants to empower people but they want to do it their way. Please do build your roads and industries but leave space for people to find their solutions and facilitate these enterprises by giving them space and recognition. They create jobs and care for their families. This is true empowerment and true inventiveness.