Happy Independence Day! It is our 65th Independence Day and we should have a lot to be proud of. But do we. Sixty five years is three generations and that is a long time by any standards. Certainly enough time to honour and redeem all sacrifice made by those who fought for the very independence we seem to take for granted. Kamala’s (my mother) family was one of those who have up everything to ensure that we would be born in free India. They had dreams, dreams that I had the privilege to share. They dreamt of a hunger free land, of a land that would give the most enabling environment to their children, a land that would prosper and grow, a land that would respect values and traditions. Their dreams were so well enshrined in the Preamble of our Constitution which secured all its citizens justice, liverty, equality and fraternity.

Justice social and economic, Liberty of thought belief and faith, Equality of status! One does not need to be a rocket scientist to see that none of these have been respected. Today, 65 years after independence millions sleep hungry, more than 5000 children die every day of malnutrition, there is scant respect for belief or faith; invisible and impregnable walls are erected between the rich and the poor. Corruption is rampant. Those who have the power have lost the ability to use it well. Whilst the children of India waited more than 60 years to get their right to education, bills that seek to increase the goodies meant for those in power are passed in minutes. Though more than 3 children die every minute because of lack of food, grains rot in the open across the land. Food meant for the poor children is hijacked and sold as cattle fodder. Caste divides remain ugly and respect for our brethren has vanished.  India @ 65 is not pretty.

Kamala my mother wanted her child to be born in free India. She was 32 when I was born in free India. I guess what motivated her to prefer life as an old maid to life as a mother of a slave child was a dream. A dream that saw her child thriving in a country that enshrined the values the likes of her sacrificed their lives for. Today in my seventh decade I cannot but hang my hand in shame as we have failed our freedom fighters in every which way possible. Can my tiny effort be even considered as a step in the right direction.

The India my mom dreamt of was one where children would receive good education and aspire to wonderful morrows. How can I begin to tell her that this is far from reality. The children of India have been let down hook line and sinker by one and all.

Last week I came to know of the shocking reality of the state of schools in XXIst century India. As a tribute to the one who gave me a free life I need to cast my apprehensions and start taking pro active steps in the right direction. Sitting in the comfort zone of pwhy is not acceptable any more. My voice needs to become the voice of my kids. So I am taking a few of them to an activist lawyer so that they can share their angst and perhaps be heard.

The tragedy of our country is that those who have a voice and can make a difference remain silent and ataxic. It is time this changed or else the Independence we all pretend to celebrate once a year, will all be in vain.

It is time we took ownership of our Independence.

Happy Independence Day!

 After the rants and raves about the education scenario it is time for something more soothing and heartwarming. So who else should we talk about but one of our very special kid. Handle with care are the words we often use when referring to Radha, our little Angel with glass bones who dropped from the heavens into our lives five years ago. In spite of her heartbreaking condition and her 50 and more fractures this little lady is a spunky one. In spite of the fact that she lives in terrible conditions she is always beautiful. Even though she dreams of walking knowing she will never be able to do so, she dances like a star.

Over the years we have tried to always handle her with care but I must confess our handling is often limited to carrying her from one place to another. Otherwise the waif is quite agile and mobile. We just need to protect her from her classmate who can tend to be rowdy.

Radha has never been touched gently. The past local physios we had were too scared to touch her. I guess she is only touched by her mom and by the doctors who put her casts on when she breaks a bone. So when Cedric a physiotherapist from France came to spend a fortnight work with our kids and training our staff, Radha was introduced to soothing physiotherapy. Cedric massaged her with tenderness and Radha was on cloud nine. She even accepted the little harder exercises meant to strengthen her muscles. It was heartwarming to see her. I hope that we can now bring a little joy and soothe her fractured body. The little one deserves all the tender care she can get.

Yesterday Praveen one of our class IX students from our women centre and a keen singer and musician dropped by home with our coordinator. The reason: needed the husband’s help to change two guitar strings. Yes guitars are the new kids on the block at the centre thanks to a lovely young girl who ran a three weeks workshop for some of our kids. Praveen  was one of the star students. But the workshop was too short for them to learn all the secrets, one of them being how to tune a guitar! So had to rope in the husband who is also keen musician. But that is not the reason for this blog post. The reason stems from a brief conversation I had with young Praveen about his school. While he was packing the guitars now properly tuned I asked him how things were in school. Praveen studies in the local Khader secondary school. The answer I got was unbelievable and made my blood boil. Apparently the school Praveen attends has an acute shortage of teachers. Now you will never guess what solution this school has come up with. Read on.

So if teachers are not sufficient you simply stuff children in a single class. The result 150 kids studying in a classroom meant for less than half the number. Now how do you conjure such a trick. Simple. Put 4 kids on benches made for 2 and if that is not enough, then have one kid sit on the lap of another, and the rest on the floor. Let me remind you this is class IX where boys are 14 or 15 years old. Praveen told me all in his usual endearing way. No anger, no outrage, just acceptance. I on the other hand was stark raving mad. Mad at all I had heard but most of all at a system that made children accept aberrations. My mind went back to another incident that had happened in early pwhy days. A young girl perhaps 10 or so, was sobbing on the road. I stopped her and asked her what happened. She told me she had been beaten in class. I asked her the reason expecting something like – I had forgotten to do my homework, or I was talking in class. Not at all. The answer I got made by blood curdle. In between sobs the little girls said: I must have been bad. She did not even know the reason why she had been beaten. The fact that she had been beaten meant that she had been bad! Again a quiet acceptance of an undeserved punishment.

I asked our coordinator to find out more about the situation in the schools our children study in and the stories are infuriating to say the least. It seems the situation Praveen shared with us is the one that prevails in many the classes of his school. Over 100 kids crammed in a single class which has 48 seats. Just imagine the scenario if you can. Kids squeezed on desks, the rest on the floor. In many cases the fans do not work and the heat is unbearable. We are talking of senior boys. How can anyone learn anything in such circumstances. And how can any teacher, no matter how good, teach in such conditions. These are not university lectures but school classes where the children need to learn. And classroom studies is essential for such children as they do not have literate parents. Moreover their families are too poor to send the children for tuition. So they only learn what is taught at school and it seems school teaches them nothing. Praveen told us that if it was not for pwhy he would have not been able to perform well in school. Praveen is an extremely talented and intelligent boy. Given the right opportunities and an enabling environment he could aspire for the best. But even with our help many doors will remain closed to him for no fault of his. Today he attends music classes and dreams of winning a singing contest. We will give wing to his dreams as as long as we can and to the dreams of the kids who have placed their trust in us. But that is not even a drop in the ocean.

The girls too had their own tale of woes. In their school there are no desks at all in some classes. The only option is for the kids to bring their own gunny bags to sit on. This is XXI st century India. This is happening in India’s capital city!  That is not all, fans often do not work and there are no light bulbs in any classroom. The class average is 80 kids. Again how any learning can happen in such conditions is a mystery.

This is the tip of iceberg. I wonder what other aberrations one will find if we dig deeper. But this is enough to realise that there is something terribly wrong. What RTE are we talking about. Every single right children are entitled to has been hijacked. And children have no voice. Neither do their parents. Try and so something like this in an upmarket school and see the what happens.

In the face of a situation like this one is helpless and the adversary is deaf, blind and uncaring. I remember writing about another aberration some time back. It was also a tale of desks, this time the government had provided desks but they were too big and the kids had to learn standing. I wonder if any carpenter was brought in to saw them to size. So let us sum up the situation of schools in our swanky capital city: some have buildings, often one storey barracks with insufficient space so students are crammed into classrooms meant for half the kids; some have desks that are too high; some have no desks at all so kids have to bring their won seating arrangement; they have no light bulbs, fans that do not work, no functioning toilets; no clean drinking water and some have no buildings at all.

Why oh god why don’t they make multi storied buildings to replace the sizzling tin roofed barracks. Why is it that our capital city cannot school ALL its children and has to resorts to 2 shift schooling where boys learn in the afternoons, which is in no way the best time to learn. ALL kids should go to school in the morning! Why can’t we employ sufficient staff, why can’t fans be repaired and bulbs replaced! A city which spent zillions on a face lift for a 14 days extravaganza cannot find money to care for its children and give them the education they are entitled to under the Constitution.

I for one do not agree at all with the second hand solution that is purported in the much heralded Right to Education Act where kids are treated with different yardsticks with the 25% reservation in upmarket schools. I am allergic to the word reservation in any form. Why should some kids get admission in a super A grade school and other in a B or C or F grade one. The only sane solution was improving the state run schools but as you have seen these seem to be getting worse by the minute.

If I were the CEO of this city or in charge of Education I would hand my head in shame and do something about it on war footing. But I know this is a mere chimera and in today’s scenario things will not change, far from that, they will sink lower. Small efforts like ours can only help a tiny number of kids. We need change big time. And I feel helpless and immensly sad.

Next week we plan to approach a well know activist and see if we can make Praveen and his pals’ voices be heard. Only time will tell. But time is a commodity children do not possess. For the it is often always too late.

The last episode of satyamev jayate was aired last week. It was a collage of the life and work of some less than ordinary people: a young college student who ran a village school after his classes, an old man who performed the rites of unclaimed bodies, a young rape survivor saving children and women from the flesh trade, rehabilitating the children of sex workers, a woman working to restore the dignity of the handicapped, a vegetable vendor who dreams of making a hospital for the poor is fulfilled. Most of these stories have been told and retold. You can find their traces on the net. There are millions of unsung heroes in India. I remember how moved I was by the story of Mahadeva has buried over 70 000 bodies, giving each a dignified send off. Mahadeva ensures that you will rest in peace.

The stories you saw on the last episode of SMJ are but the tip of the iceberg. I was first introduced to this shining India by the wonderful website run by my friend and mentor DV: GoodNewsIndia. I must say that these stories have helped me carry on my work through difficult times.  DV’s tag line is: News from India : of positive action, steely endeavour and quiet triumphs ~ news that is little known. He stopped publishing for a couple of years but I am glad to see that GNI is back with a bang!

We need to hear such stories. I do at least. I very much wanted to see these stories published as comic books for children. Our children need heroes to inspire them; they need role models to emulate. I had even asked a friend to draw the Mahadeva story! But no one showed any interest. I still wish someone does.

Will the SMJ heroes be remembered or will they just have that short moment of glory. I do not know. I hope they are remembered but sadly know it will be otherwise. In 2005 I was chose as Citizen one of this city. I remember the letter I wrote to the editor of the paper that had instituted urging to to a step forward. The letter was in one of my earliest blogs.  I just want to recall the last words of that letter: “our city, which lies too close to power for its own good, has lost its heart, maybe we can help it find it again…”. Will a programme like SMJ help us find our hearts?

One of the most bewildering things over the last decade and more has been the total lack of support  financial or of any other kind from what I could maybe call my peers. By this I mean my fellow Indians who hail from the same social strata as I do and better ones. I can say with authority laced with sadness that not even 1% of our costs have been met by such people and that is not from want of asking. When I set up project why way back in 1998, it is to these very people that I turned. The husband’s classmates from a prestigious school, members of illustrious clubs the husband belonged to and so on. I must admit in hindsight that I had no such contacts having led a rather nomadic childhood and teenage. Anyway all I was asking at that time was a mere 100 rs a month. The result was abysmal. Again barely 1% of those I contacted responded! It did not take me a long time to seek other pastures. That this worked is amply proved by the fact that we are still in existence!

The attitude of the what we call rich Indians has always appalled me. I cannot forget the scathing remarks made by a chi chi lady when I told her about our boarding school programme. She was outraged at the very thought of the child of a rag picker studying in the same class as middle class kids. This was absolute anathema! I can also never forget how ladies from a very reputable social club brought heaps of well packed toys for our children; the catch was that they were all broken toys. When I called the lady in charge to inform her of the same she retorted: Oh, but these are toys for slum kids. What she meant was that broken toys were good enough for them. I told her that my kids played with proper toys or not toys at all. I also asked her where I could send all the toys back! Time and again ‘rich’ people have dumped their garbage at our doorstep in the guise of charity! I have been outraged more than once. Now I simply refuse any such donations. We need to keep our dignity intact no matter what. Rich India is not yer ready to accept the kind of charity I believe in and which is so well described in St Exupery’s words: Charity never humiliated him who profited from it, nor ever bound him by the chains of gratitude, since it was not to him but to God that the gift was made. Till then I will take solace in Hade Bejar’s words: The fragrance always stays in the hand that gives the rose.

Oops I sort of forgot what prompted this post.The husband showed me a letter he had written to the co-members of the upmarket golf club he belongs to. Th story goes something like this: caddies of the club are daily wagers who make money by caddying for members. At best I guess on a good day they would caddy twice, but I am sure some days they do not get even a game! Their caddying fees are fixed by the club committee and each members has to pay them at least that sum. Some time back the committee decided to up the fee by a paltry 20 Rs. Keeping the inflation we all know of the sum seems measly. One would think that no member would have objected. At best you play 10 games a month so all that is asked of you is a mere 200 rs. One would also think that 200 rs is nothing for members of such a prestigious club! Not at all. Some members were up in arms! Needless to say that to be member of this club you have to be moneyed. The letter the husband wrote is one I am terribly proud of as it defended the rights of the voiceless caddies.

Why wonder why rich people are so much against the rights of the poor. It is a reality that we have to learn to live with.The build invisible yet impregnable walls to keep the poor out, they put up gates, they behave like ostriches when faced with disturbing statistics, they drop their coin in the beggar’s bowl but never have the courage to look into their eyes, they have their charity agendas (feed the poor on particular days, send your rubbish to an NGO, attend page 3 NGO dos etc) and feel they have done their bit. When will they learn to see with their heart and understand the meaning of this old proverb: A bone to the dog is not charity. Charity is the bone shared with the dog, when you are just as hungry as the dog..

This summer the class IV and V boys and girls of our Okhla centre participated in a very special project with the help of David Schlenker, a volunteer from the US. All the pictures have been taken by the children. It is their view of the world they live in. Do take time and have a look. It is precious!

Sunday morning is indulgence time. I normally go to the local parlour to get a pedicure and manicure. The hour or so spent there is the one luxury I allow myself. But unlike other women who spend their time chatting on their cell phones or reading magazines totally ignoring the staff working on their hands or feet, I like engaging in conversation with the staff. It gives me an insight into yet another world. I always let the others lead the conversation.

It always begins with a chat on the weather: the incredible heat, the delayed rains, the clogged streets post a deluge and so on. This week it was the eluding rain! Then after a short while he asked me whether I was planning to go to Jantar Mantar for the Ana Hazare protest. I guess he remembered that I had gone last summer. I told him I was not. After a few more moments he brought up the topic again and said that he felt that Ana Hazare was doing all this to get his statue erected after his death. I was perplexed as I could not understand what he was getting at. I really wanted to know so I asked him why he had said that. The answer was to the point. For him Ana Hazare did not have a family and hence would be forgotten by one and all unless he did something that would make the Nation remember him. Hence his need to do something big. I guess this is a way of looking at it.

Ana Hazare brought the topic of corruption and then very quickly the one of price rise. I guess they are linked in the perceptions of the common man. Every one present joined the chorus to complain about the price rise in vegetables, food, petrol, electricity. Life was becoming very difficult for one and all particularly for people like Kailash and his colleagues who were at the mercy of their employer. If they ask for a salary increase they run the risk of losing their jobs unlike unionised workers and state employees. Kailsah who always has to come up with something unique stated with humour: thee politicians shouls come and spend a month living like us to understand the harsh realities of the common man adding with a twinkle in his eye: and we would love to spend that month in their homes! Reminded me of TV shows like trading places!

While scrolling on my Facebook page I came across yet another murder of a woman as she failed to give birth to a male child. An apparently happy marriage went down the hill when the second child was born. It was a little girl! The taunts of family and friends were too much to bear and the husband more so after the second daughter and the he kicked his wife to death. The blame for the gender of the child was once again laid on the innocent shoulders of the wife. What this incident shows once again is the total failure of all campaigns aimed at removing the prejudices against the girl child.

Not matter how many Satyamev Jayate kind of programmes we have, mindsets will not change unless issues are addressed in a different way. I have written about this issue many times. My approach is slightly different as I feel that we have first and foremost to free women from the scientifically wrong burden of determining the sex of the child. The X/Y story has to be told loud and clear. The fact that women do not have the Y chromosome and therefore cannot produce a son has to be screamed from every roof top. The softer approach of trying to enhance the value of daughters has failed miserably. Programmes like Satyamev Jayate is just a middle feel good show. An extremely interesting critique of the programme can be found in this article that I urge you to read. The author states: Every Sunday we watch programs sanitised to suit middle-class taste buds. We cry. We feel a little guilt, but hardly any anger. If we’re feeling extra lucky, we’ll send an SMS so that our Rs 2 goes to the cause. We might even donate to the said NGO once in a while. But the reality remains unchanged. Post the episode on the important of daughters one has heard of umpteen murders of wives who failed to give birth to daughters.

So where is the solution. One should maybe try and dissect the situation with dispassion. Why are daughters unwanted? And please do not give me the c*** about lineage and succession and upholding the name. Women do as well if not better. And if that were the reason then for Pete sake we are not all kings or feudal lords. Girls are unwanted because the skewed marriage drama we have is unfairly loaded towards the girl’s side. I wonder, as I have written before, whether there would be male foeticides if the whole marriage game was turned on its head! So girls seem to be unwanted because you need spend on their food, clothing, education etc and then also on their weddings. Then there is the terrible mindset of girls being the holder of the family’s honour. Let us be honest and word it differently: if a girl steps out of line you may have a pregnancy on your hands whereas the boy goes scot-free. So maybe these are the issues that need to be talked about.

Everyone knows that women are essential to life itself. The mothers of the so beloved sons will one day go looking for brides for them in the hope that they produce them grandsons. Is this not an absurd situation to say the least. Maybe it is also time this absurdity is brought center stage. The mother we all love are also girls. Where would we have been had they been aborted!

The situation is becoming perilous and something needs to be done. Let us begin with the X/Y story.

Sadafulee means always blooming! It is the name of a flower that blooms no matter what the time of the year. What a spirited plant. Sadafulee is the name one of our most caring supporter decided to give her new venture set up to help the children of project why. I can only borrow Kashmira’s words to describe this unique jewelry store: This venture comes from my passion for art and for helping underprivileged children. I plan to donate most of the proceeds from this store to a charity working with slum children in India. I am hoping the universe will help me grow this store to help the children to “always bloom”!

Kashmira and I met on line about three years ago when we were facing one of our financial crisis and needed to find a way to raise funds. If I recall well it was at the time when we were trying to set up a sponsorship programme. Kahsmira was not only one of the first persons to take on a child but also promised to help us raise the much needed funds. Since that time we remained in touch and Kashmira was always there for our kids.

Some time back she talked to me about a new venture she had in mind: crafting hand made jewelry to raise funds for project why! It was a beautiful thought but I must admit sheepishly that I thought that it would never truly take off. I was so wrong. In no time she had set up her venture and I started seeing pictures of lovely jewels on Facebook. And some time later she sent me a link to her store: I was wowed! The jewelry is beautiful and I wish I owned them all. But what makes each and every piece precious is the love that is woven in every bead.

I am humbled and overwhelmed. It is so easy to write a cheque but to spend your precious time in creating something to help children is unique. Kashmira is unique! And if you really want to know how much love gos into each piece read her blog. This is a true labour of love, one that is blessed.

Every piece sold helps a special child smile, a child remain in school, a child who cannot walk aspire to a bright future, the son of a fruit seller get a job in a bank. Every piece sold allows small miracles happen. Every piece sold will allow project why to be always blooming.

I hope you  will help sadafulee bloom and own a very special piece of jewelry and make Kashmira and our dream come true.

To know more :
The Sadafulee Store
Sadafulee’s facebook Page
Sadafulee’s blog

I have been hearing about Chotta Bheem for quite some time. It began with Utpal and then kids from the project. I figure out it was a cartoon serial aired on TV channels for children. I also saw kids with CB school bags, CB pencil boxes and more of the same. I have never liked cartoons or animated films, even as a kid if I recall well. The only comic strips I did read would be Tintin and Asterix. I preferred losing myself in a good Enid Blyton and other adventure books.

My kids saw their share of cartoon movies and Disney films. But I rarely sat with them. For me it translated into ‘alone time’ and was often spent reading.The children grew up. Then one day three and a half year ago I became a grandmother and my life changed to fit the tune of my darling grandson.

He is with me for his summer holidays and is now into cartoons, his favourite being Chotta Bheem. So for the past weeks now bye bye news, bye bye Masterchef, bye bye all other shows. TV time is now Chotta Bheem time. Twice a day before afternoon siesta and bedtime. And quite willingly I watch episodes after episodes of Chotta Bheem and wonder of wonders find myself enjoying them. I think what I enjoy is the little fellow’s presence next to me, his giggles and his questions. I could turn my face the other way and read a book. But that would cheating myself of some extraordinary moments that come once in a life time.

As for the content of Chotta Bheem, it is quite interesting and good clean viewing recommended to all, particularly grandmothers.

The Karnataka Government has earmarked 170 million rupees for prayers for rain! True we need rain and need it desperately. Many of us urbanites do not know what drought means to the farmer and the villager. For us in towns it translates into food inflation that we bear grudgingly. When our taps run dry we grumble some more and call for a water tank to fill up our tanks that seem growing in size by the day but never put breaks on our consumption.

The humid heat makes us long for rain clouds but then again we have our air conditioners on!  But for the farmer rain is life. Everyone is praying for rains. But the Karnataka Government decided to it go for it king size. 170 millions of rupees will be used so that every single temple in the state – 34 000 – propitiates the Rain GoBlogger: Project Why – Edit Post “Pray for rain @ of 170 millions”ds! This is no joke.  So water will be poured on Gods while His children are dying of thirst. Where are we heading and what have we become!

I am a believer and I too pray everyday in the sanctity of my home. I must admit I too seek divine intervention but I do it quietly and without any fuss. I have always been appalled at the quantities of milk and honey poured on stone statues and by the feeding frenzies that occur with obsessive regularity at given times of the year and result in vast amounts of food thrown on the streets. Each time I come across such instances I cannot but remember the 5000+ children that die everyday of malnutrition related causes. Wonder how many could be saved if the milk poured on the Gods was given to them. And I wonder how many lives could be saved if the 170 million rupees meant to propitiate the rain Gods were used to alleviate poverty.

But coming back to the main issue that is water and the rains, would not the rain Gods be appeased  and would shower us with rain if we committed to treat water with respect? If we pledged not to waste water and above all if we wowed to harvest the rainwater we so desperately seek?

Water is the worst crisis looming at the horizon. It is time we realised that and did something credible. Maybe then the rain Gods would be appeased and would send us the rain we so desperately need.

Were you to approach any of the Commissions set up in independent India presumably to redress torts, what you would get after few days of your filing a report is a printed letter informing you that the Commission has taken note of your complaint and directed the pertinent authorities to give an Action Taken Report by such and such date! This very official and officious letter is probably all you will ever get!

During a recent TV debate post the Gauwahati incident, the Chairperson of the National Commission for Women proclaimed that she has asked for an Action Taken Report (ATR) and was waiting for it! The long forgotten words jolted my mind! Yes, I too was the recipient of a letter stating that an ATR had been solicited in the case of my complaint no: xxx! Many years ago we had started a small outreach at the gypsy camp that was located along the main road next to a busy intersection, the kind of location always preferred by these gypsy iron smiths as it enables them to sell their ware. It was a heart warming place replete with love, dignity and abundant common sense. I soon was to discover that the place was illegal ( I wonder how illegal any place that has survived 3 or more decades, has a postal address and voter’s ID cards for its inhabitants is). I also found some old tattered official looking papers that had promised relocation to these nomadic tribes.

Remember, these were early days of pwhy and I was still naive and gullible. I had been told by the chieftain of the clan, a man I had profound respect for, that their camp was regularly bulldozed and then after greasing some palms allowed to be re erected. I witnessed one such bulldozing and my blood ran cold as one child was retrieved in the nick of time! I had heard about all those wonderful sounding Commissions one being the Human Rights one. I took pen to paper and poured out my anger, indignation and compassion seeking intervention from those meant to protect torts. My complaint, as that is what such writing is called, was duly received and I was informed that an ATR had been sought. In those days I thought I had conquered the moon and my lohar friends would soon be safe. Silly me! A few days later I got a strange phone call from the local cop station. I was incomprehensible as what i was asked is whether the lohars were bothering me as they ! You can imagine my bewilderment! I did not know what to say.  To cut a long story short all my attempts failed: PIL in court, appeal to the CM etc etc.

We managed to buy some time though and withstood some storms. But then came our greatest adversary: the Commonwealth Games and Delhi had to be made beautiful. On 28 August 2010 the camp was destroyed once for all. The tribe got shelter in different parts of the city but I lost my friends. I wonder of the city gained in beauty. I know I learnt my lessons and never approached a Commission again. I know what an Action Taken report means not forgetting that a member of the Commission made the unforgivable blunder of revealing the name of the victim.

So to get back to the Guwahati case I wonder what the NCW will achieve with this report. This brings us to asking ourselves the role and effectiveness of such commissions which are, let us not forget, funded by tax payers. Are they convenient institutions that allow the ruling party to reward or rid itself of someone. Perhaps. So one needs to review such bodies and give them teeth and independence. Then perhaps those they are meant to protect will be truly heard!

We, women, are sick and tired of being told how to dress, how to behave, what to eat or drink, when to go out etc. Where are our constitutional rights! If we are to hear the Baghpat Panchayat or Ministers post the Gauwahati incident, we are responsible for every aberration that befalls us: eve teasing, molestation, rape etc. I would say something is wrong with our men. Maybe that is the question that needs to be addressed. Whether the reports we have been bombarded with in the past days are genuine or media created is another question. But the bottom line is that we women make good copy! And the sad reality is that brutalising women is the rule rather than the exception.

What is frightening is the brazen reporting of such incidents by a somewhat irresponsible media. And what is terrifying is that in India today when cameras roll the culprits do not hide themselves and scoot but shamelessly play to the gallery. And what is scary is that people watch the show, just as they would in their drawing room in front of a screen, rather than stop the abuse.

But what is the most petrifying is the new found regressive belief that women are the keepers of social morality as is evident in dispensations like those made by a Minister who says with impunity: “Women should dress in such a way that they invoke respect in others”. And my blood boils, curdles and freezes at the same time when I hear the National Commission for Women Chairperson, a woman, state: be careful about how you dress!

Something has changed in the fabric of our society. From a caring people we seem to have mutated into a voyeuristic one. We enjoy seeing gore and abuse, the more the better. And this new appetite is being fully exploited by TRP hungry media. One wishes they restrain themselves before it is too late. One wonders if the young girl who suffered terrible abuse in Guwahati would have been let off where the cameras not rolling.

I cannot but feel sorry for the 41 year old hospital staff who was made the fall guy and lost his job courtesy another media circus.  The man was the sole earner of a family of 10. The media made him a ward boy/sweeper whereas he was an OT assistant with 19 years experience. He did what we was told and paid a heavy price. It is sad but true that in many hospitals Doctors go AWOL and other staff are made to pitch in. They often do a great job and even save lives. They are not the culprits. The real culprit is the administration and the rulers who have not been able to get their act together even after six decades of freedom.

In my early days working in slums I too felt outraged at the number of quacks that operated in the slums. But then with time I realised that they were often the only care givers and often did a reasonable if not good job. The alternatives were not viable. The better Doctors, if any were to expensive, the government dispensaries few and poorly manned, and the hospitals too far and too time consuming.

Apologies for the digression but too many things are cluttering my brain. But let us get back to the main issue: that of women and their fundamental rights! This attitude of making women responsible for any and every aberration is not acceptable. There is something wrong with men. Maybe legalising porn, sex shows and other such things would reign them in! If not, then let us just lock them up and loose the key.

In 2001 a child fell and died in a bore well in Tamil Nadu. The state government swung into action. A law was passed, the administration was on its toes and no bore well could be dug without permission and the bore had to be covered the same day! Moreover everyone worked in tandem rather then passing the buck. Policemen on beats alert the right authorities immediately and the boles/drains/pits are immediately covered. The result: no child has fallen to its death since that fateful day! This is the reality on the other side of the Vindyas.

On June 28th little Mahi feel in a deep bore well and was rescued too late. There was a hue and cry and India, as reported by newscasters, wanted answers and action. Everyone screamed that this should never happen again. Yet a day later another child died, and then another, and yet another! The outrage went unheard, at least this side of the Vindhyas. Why is it that simple rules cannot be followed. Even the Supreme Court decree of 2009 held no meaning. Open drains are the rule rather than the exceptions, and as of bore wells there seem to be 10 000 abandoned ones across the land. Does that mean that it will take 10 000 kids dying before the issue is resolved? And the question that begs to be asked is how come one state acts efficiently and not the rest of the country. A simple diktat on compulsory rain water harvesting in all homes, new and old, was/is the magic wand needed. Rain water harvesting = recharging of water table = shallow wells with tiny diameters = no child falling. There is a lesson for the CEO of our city where construction is booming. But I do not see the day dawn soon or ever. We need to pray for it hard. Will we ever learn. Only time will tell.

You learn at every age. I have always been weary of persons who profess that they know all. I shun them like the proverbial plague. They have no place in my horizon. I on the other hand always profess that I am willing to learn till my last breath and from the tiniest and humblest. This week I walk the talk.

Agastya my lovely grandson is here on holiday. He has spent the last six months in the US of A where he lives on and where he has been mastering the English language. Two days back at dinner table he got very agitated and kept shouting: this is my spot. Poor grandmother, aka me, was totally lost and could not figure out what the little boy meant/wanted! You see her English came via French and fine tuned in apna India so is not the best. It took her a little time and the little fellow a lot of gesticulating to eventually figure out that he meant that teh chair he was pointing at and that was occupied was his place, no sorry, his spot.

I feel great. I know a knew word and I may use it hoping others do not understand it. I am all ears and rearing to learn from my little Angel boy!

Just released our new professional promotional video. Conceived, directed, shot and edited by Andi a very special person with the help of the children and staff of project why and David. A very proud moment for us all. Thank you Andi for having made this dream come true!

Enjoy