Altogether your investment of yourself into the project is getting to be a magnificent obsession which is very commendable but deserves caution. So what is it I wonder that so relentlessly drives you. I am trying to understand were the words written by someone I dearly respect. He went on to say: The scope of Project Why is exponential. This is what is concerning me. Is there an indication for rationalising the endeavour. I wonder.If your father was alive what advise would he have proffered.
The words would have irked me had they come form anyone else. But the person who wrote them was someone I cherish dearly, someone I know cares deeply for me. And moreover it is someone who was very close to Ram, my father. So somehow a simple email metamorphosed into a message from the heavens, one that needed to be deciphered gently.
So let us begin by trying to find out what it is it that relentlessly drives me? The answer is not hard to find. For me it is inconceivable to sit doing nothing when faced with disturbing whys, be it a Manu begging on the street or a troubling statistic like the one that states that a child does of malnutrition every 8.7 minutes, be it the sight of a child made to beg on the streets when s/he should be in school or the plight of a woman used and abused, be it the pain of a parent running helter-skelter to garner the money to save its child or the sadness in the eyes of children of a lesser god that no one cares for. Can trying to seek answers to any of these whys be termed as a magnificent obsession or is it simply the only option. I tend to think it is the latter: simply the only road that one can travel. So what drives me is no magnificent obsession: I simply see, hear and care.
But there is more in the mail that needs answers. Yes the growth of pwhy is exponential but that is simply because whys keep coming our way, almost as if they were guided to by an invisible hand. This is what I have felt right from the outset. The feeling that this time, no matter what I may seem to others, I am not in charge. A first for me who has always liked being in the drivers seat. But not this time. From the day I first walked the tiny street where Manu was born and where the first stone of pwhy was subsequently laid, I intuitively felt a presence gently propelling me forward. And there was no looking back, with each why that was thrown my way, came an answer that miraculously worked. Pwhy had wings of its own on which I had scant control!
So what was the message. The words caution and rationalising perturbed me. Where we going or growing too fast? Was planet why too big a venture for me to handle? Did I have the required skills? And did rationalising mean slowing down, pruning the project, finding another sustainability plan that was less onerous? And yet as I have said time and again planet why seemed to have a life of its own, each time we have been close to giving it up, something has occurred to save it. 2011 is the last year we are giving to the project so if the God of Lesser Beings want to see it happen, then he needs to conjure a miracle fast. In spite of my best efforts I have been unable to dictate what happens at pwhy. Pwhy grows organically. One just tends to it with care and heed.
And last but not the least, what advise would my father have proffered. Knowing him he would have encouraged me to continue on the path I have chosen without doubt. True he would have, like any caring parent, been concerned about me, but would have always advised me to carry on hearing, seeing and caring.
The children of our Okhla centre proudly present: The wind goes travelling, an original play in English written and performed by the children and directed by their teacher Smita. These children are all primary students wo began learning English barely a year ago! The play was premiered one Republic Day.
It is Republic day and all across the country there are celebrations. The project why children celebrated R Day yesterday at Okhla and the women centre. At both places I had the privilege of being the one to hoist the flag. When I accepted I did not know how emotionally intense the moment would be.
It all began at 10 am at Okhla. I reached in time and found a rickety pole with a folded flag waiting to be hoisted and a motley band of children standing at attention waiting for the ceremony to begin. Some children where bare feet, some had sandals, some shoes. Some were in their Sunday best and others in everyday wear. Some clutched a withering rose which I discovered later was meant for me. The sight of these children of India, children of all shades and hues, of different faiths and origins standing in the cold morning waiting solemnly for the flag to be hoisted was moving and disturbing. They stood in a partially reclaimed garbage dump, their heads held high, their faces serious, their port dignified, waiting to sing the National Anthem and celebrate our Constitution in the bests way possible. I must confess I began to feel very small.
The flag was hoisted and the Anthem sung. Then the saluting party joined their friends in the classroom and the celebrations began. There were patriotic songs and dances, a wonderful play in English that warmed the cockles of my heart and then a tiny little boy came forward and declared that he would recite a poem in English. I was expecting him to render some silly english rhymes and almost fell off my chair when the tiny lad began reciting Tagore’s famous poem: Where the mind is without fear. I sat spell bound ecah word resonating in my mind and making me feel proud and ashamed at the same time.
Were the mind is without fear and the head is held high Where knowledge is free Where the world has not been broken up into fragments By narrow domestic walls Where words come out from the depth of truth Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit Where the mind is led forward by thee Into ever-widening thought and action Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
The rendering was perfect. Every word clear and well enunciated and as every word was voiced my heart swelled with pride. What a long journey it had been. Seven years of patient endurance, of battles with local mafias, of not giving up and today this little school in a garbage dump had come of age. But as each word echoed in my mind I also felt how we had let down these very children and how far we were from Tagore’s dream. Knowledge was not free, truth hijacked, and perfection a distant dream. Even the tenets of our Constitution were not respected so what were we celebrating. here were a bunch of kids who had been let down in every which way, all their rights usurped. Where was the justice, equality, liberty promised to them on this very day 61 years ago. Where had we gone wrong and why. My head hung in shame. The sight of these children innocent and trusting children was a gentle reminder that all was far from well. So much needed to be done.
The women centre children displayed the same faith and trust as they hoisted their flag, performed in English and sand their patriotic songs with fervour. True there was a sense of pride in seeing what we had achieved, but at the same time came the realisation that so much more needed to be done and above all the land needed to be awoken from the deep and senseless slumber it allowed itself to sink in.
So let me country finally awake is the message I would like to send today.
A recent mail from of our staunchest supporters suggested gently that one should consider 2011 as a watershed year for planet why. Give it our all but accept to let it go by the end of the year of nothing happens. A bit fatalistic I must admit. But then am I not the one who had always felt the presence a guiding hand since the day it all began, it being project why! The hand of the one I christened: the God of Lesser beings.
So when did it all begin, this planet why idea, at least in my mind. I guess here too there were two distinct ideas: the shelter for lost souls and the hope hotel as some call it or the guest house that was meant to churn the much needed resources. The former was seeded almost 11 years ago when I first lay eyes on Manu. The later was much latter, when all other options had failed: the cards and candles, the chocolates and jewels, the tshirts and bags, the one rupee a day venture, the soaps and oils, all meant to help us move from charity to sustainability.
It did not happen overnight. One was at one’s wits end to find the best solution and an innocuous remark introduced me to the ninos hotel in Cusco. The rest is history. With every passing day the idea of dovetailing hospitality with development became stronger. It was richer in possibilities the all previous ventures as it also allowed us to take a step further in our journey and take the kids beyond simple school education.
There were up and downs, times when we were ready to give up but like the proverbial bad penny planet why kept springing back with obsessive regularity. When we were let high and dry by a potential donor, other appeared and we managed to purchase our land. When the world markets plummeted we again thought that the planet why idea had crashed with it but then it bounced back. When a friend suggested that we get the plan vetted by professional consultants I was convinced that the outcome would be negative, but far from that, it was found to be very lucrative. When the final costing was worked out, I recoiled at the figures but others found it normal. When our innumerable mails seeking support and finance were answered with polite nays, out of the blue came people who were willing to ensure that planet why see the light of day. When Manu left us and I was shattered as in my mind Manu and planet why were synonymous, every one else felt that Planet Why was the only way we could honour his memory.
This where we stand today. And yet I tend to agree with the friend who has decreed that we consider 2011 as a watershed year for planet why. I guess it simply means that we once again leave it in the hands of the God of Lesser Beings!
The God of Lesser Beings operates in strange and mysterious ways. I must confess, a little sheepishly, that ever since Manu’s demise many of my beliefs have been shaken and I have been feeling somewhat dejected. The task ahead looks daunting and my steps feel a little wobbly. True, things have to continue to honour Manu but I must admit that the feeling to give it all up has crossed my mind more than once. Blissfully no one seemed aware of this as I have kept a brave face!
Yesterday we made an unscheduled trip to the boarding school as a funder was in town and wanted to see the child she sponsored. The morning was crisp and sunny and it was a pleasure to be out in the open. We reached the school later than planned and thus missed the refreshment break and all the the children were in their classrooms. We waited patiently for the children to be called and soon they trickled in one by one, the bigger ones coming in later. A always it was a pleasure to see their smiling faces and hug them. We were taken on a tour of the school and for some time Utpal seemed to have disappeared. He reappeared shortly clutching his red pencil box, the very one we had bought together the last time he was home. He insisted I take it home with me as according to him others were eying it. I was a little bewildered but did as I was told.
Soon it was time to leave and we did quite reluctantly as always. I held on to the little red pencil box a little tighter than required. I sat in the back seat of the SUV fiddling with the box and opened it inadvertently. Inside was a little piece of paper folded in four. I opened it. Scrawled in pencil were the words : I love you… Maam’ji! I was stunned. It was a message from Utpal. But I realised it was much more, it was a message from the God of Lesser Beings, the one had been unconsciously seeking, the one that meant that I had to go on no matter what. It was his way of reminding me that many depended on me, that I did not have the luxury of banging the door and losing the key, that I could not throw my hand up simply because things had not quite gone the way I would have wanted them to. And once again in had been this special child of God who had intervened in my life to call me to order.
The moment was precious and blessed and I was glad the others in the car were silent. I sat quietly taking in the meaning of the four little words scribbled in a child’s hand. It was awesome and wondrous and reminded me once again that I was but an instrument in the hands of one that had plans for me, plans I was not fully privy to but that I had to follow no matter what. I love you too Utpal and will never let you down.
Yesterday was the thirteenth day after Manu’s demise. This is the day of the final send off, according to Hindu rites. I presume his family must have done the needful, but his project why family did it their way. A little table was set in a corner of the special section with his photograph, flowers, incense, bananas, his favourite food and of course a packet of biscuits Manu’s peche mignon! An oil lamp was then lit and would remain lit for the entire day. His classmates and three roomies sat in silence in front of his smiling picture. When all was ready, we observed a minute of silence. The room was filled with wondrous energies and we all felt Manu was with us.
After the minute of silence it was time for his friends to say a few words in his honour. The first one to do so was Umesh, our spastic child who speaks with difficulty, but he rose to the occasion and floored us all. He remembered Manu’s love for food and sense of humour: mydear brother I will miss you was how he ended his little speech. Anjali his roomie was next: I forgive you for all the times you made fun of me dear Manu, be happy wherever you are were her words. Raju who had looked after Manu for years, helping him in more ways than one simply said: I will be lost without you. You were very special, you liked your puzzles and loved to draw. I will miss you. Champa remembered his love for food as she said in her simple way: I use to be the one to give you your dinner every night and little Radha prayed for his soul wherever it rested. Preeti was the last one to render homage. She said: Manu may your soul rest in peace and may you always find biscuits wherever you are. Needless to say we all cracked up and wept. This simple and heartfelt homage to this special child of God was moving and touched us all. Every word spoken was from the heart and true. There was no artifice or pretense.
It made us also realise how much Manu was loved by his friends and classmates. Some like Umesh had known him for years. Some had come into his life more recently like little Radha or young Sohil. But he had touched them deeply. True he had his moods and his bouts of temper but no one ever minded them. He was above all the big brother everyone cared for and loved and today every one was lost. The classroom seemed strangely empty reminding me of Lamartine words: You miss one person and the whole world is deserted.
I sat on a little stool in a corner watching all these children of a lesser God bidding farewell to their dear friend and was filled with a range of emotions I am unable to decipher fully: sadness, love, tenderness, compassion, wonder, awe. It was as if God himself had descended in this tiny room to bless this farewell to Manu. I did not want it to end as I held on to my tears and watched these very special children do what we supposedly rational adults have forgotten: see and speak with our hearts unabashedly.
Manu had once again woven his magic and I realised how bless we were to have stumbled upon him and made him ours.
Utpal spent his winter break in a novel way. True he had his fill of screeching battery operated cars and spins on his new gleaming scooter, but his morning were spent at project why where he patiently taught the tiny ones. As son as we reached the project he headed straight for the first floor where ‘his’ class was located. He then patiently waited for the children to arrive, helping with their bags and shoes and ensuring that they settle down.
He then spent the whole morning helping the teacher and taking his role very seriously. When it was alphabet learning time, he climbed on a little stool next to the alphabet charts and was busy making the children repeat their letters. It was lovely watching him do so! He was our new teacher on the block.
I remembered the days when he had been a pupil of this very class and use to waddle in joyfully and participate in all activities with great seriousness. He was a bonny fellow and at that time nine of could begin to imagine what lay ahead. Those were the days when we still hoped that his mom would redress her ways and that he would have a home like all his pals did. But that was not to be. The God of Lesser beings had other plans for him, plans that we were not privy to and were yet to discover. He soon lost his home and in a manner to speak whatever little family he had. A few months later he would enter the portals of his new home: his boarding school.
I think Popples never forgot his past and coming to pwhy is like homecoming. His little stint as a teacher proved that. Children are extraordinary and never fail to astound you. God bless him.
I remember the days when Popples use to cry his heart out when it was time to leave for school after any break. His wails use to wrench my heart and bring tears in my eyes too. Popples left yesterday afternoon. No wails, no sobs, not even a whimper. He waived us a cheerful good bye and jumped in the car where his school pals waited full of stories and things to share. He was all grown up now.
Not quite I must admit. The day before he vanished in his room stating that he wanted to play alone. This was quite understandable as little Agastya my grandson, often appropriated to himself Utpal’s toys and Utpal the kind big brother was always ready to share his toys. But Popples is only 8 and a kid himself and I guess playing big brother was not always fun. So his desire to be ‘alone’ was not questioned.
When he did not come down for quite some time, I sent Gita to his room to find out what was happening. Gita found him crying. No wails or sobs but silent tears that ran down his cheeks while he played with one of his favourite cars. When she asked him what happened his answer was a simple: I do not want to go to school but I know I have to. You see he was all grown up.
When I came to know about this I cracked up and ran to see him. By the time I reached his room the tears had gone. What remained was streaks on his cheeks. I took him in my arms and rocked him gently, like one would a child. He hugged me tight and we remained like this for a long time. No words were needed.
It was also time to ease matters so the next morning we set out to the cake shop not only to select my grandson’s birthday cake for the 21st, but also one for Popples whose birthday fell on the day he would be back for his next break. It was fun and laughter all the way. The choice fell on a gleaming bike cake that would be ordered in time. The dark clouds had dispelled and all was well!
But not quite as Popples tears had touched a deep chord in me. These holidays he had time and again mentioned his mom in overt and covert ways. Be it the lost box or the many instances she appeared in the course of conversation or the most poignant time when the little boy stated that his home was where mom was. How did one explain to a hurting child that his mom was awol! That she had just left town and never bothered to keep in touch; that a court had given his custody to his maam’ji. True maam’ji was precious and someone he loved but she was not mom! And custody or person deemed fit, as the court order stated was too abstract a term to be comprehended by a still tiny little boy.
This time I was also treated to many kisses and cuddles. Normally Popples is quite reserved when it comes to expressing his feelings. He has been so since he left for boarding school and became a little man. Yet the past few days I have been hugged unabashedly. Maybe Popples needed reassurance, needed to know I was there, needed to know he was loved. It was time to put my deemed fit status to test but how. Did I need to ferret the mom out from whatever hole she had dug herself in? Did I need to start explaining to him that mom’s sometimes chose to change the course of their lives? I must admit I am a little lost.
Children should be brought into this world for the right reasons. They never ask to be born. We inflict the gift of life on them and then sometimes wash our hands away leaving the child bewildered and hurting. Today I need to redress the tort, to heal the pain and above all to fill that little boy’s life with abundant love and joy. So help me God.
Yesterday Auntyji, the housemother of our foster care called out to Champa and said: Give Manu his dinner! You see it was Champa’s duty each evening to serve Manu’s plate and hand it to him. Auntyji realised her slip as everyone looked at her dumbfounded. It took some time before things came back to normal and everyone settle down to dinner without Manu, his empty chair a sad reminder of the terrible loss.
When we decided to give Manu a home exactly three years, we also had to give him a family. We crafted one for him. A very special one. It all began with Champa a very special young girl , 4 little kids, a house mother and a special educator. Life was really bindass as this motley crew learnt to live together and create bonds that defied all logic and withstood the test of time. And their joy was palpable if you cared to look with your heart. You just had to watch Manu dance.
For me it was a long home coming, one that began on a scorching day in May 2000 and ended in 2008. Eight long years were needed to build a home and craft a family for Manu. But it was worth every moment, every challenge, every hurt, every kick. When Manu felt terribly sick his little family was shattered and lost. When he came back home from the hospital they all sprung into action to tend to him in what ever little way they could. When the kids left for boarding school, Manu missed them and often asked when the next holidays would be. When they came home for summer Manu would spoil them in his own way and you could see the joy and care in his eyes. When young Anjali joined the family after she lost her mom, she was accepted with open arms. She became family. And recently when young Radha joined the gang, she too was taken in in a jiffy!
The day Manu died, his family was shattered. The girls sat alone in a room in stunned silence, tears rolling down their faces. Soon Manu’s real family appeared out of the woodwork to reclaim their own, the one they had forsaken and left on the road. True predators looking for an ounce of flesh. It was galling to say they least, but we withstood it stoically not wanting to mar Manu’s last journey.
Today three little girls and an old lady are trying to learn to live without Manu. Not an easy task so help us God!
Once upon a time not so long ago, a young girl came to project why with her mom and dad. Her name was Harriet. She spent five days with the special children and made many friends. In those tiny five days Harriet looked with her heart and saw beyond what others see. We shared our joys and apprehensions, our successes and challenges and of course our big dream: that of seeing Planet Why become a reality. This was in 2008, when no one really gave credence to our dream and many even pooh poohed it as pure fantasy. How could a tiny inconsequential project like ours think so big! But Harriet sat silently and imbibed it all. I could not even begin to think what this lovely girl was already conjuring in her mind.
Harriet also knew that project why was a hand to mouth organisation that needed constant shots of fuel and as soon as she got back to her school, this young pixie got to work: bake sales, collections in her school and so much more and whilst many forget and move on, Harriet never did. I often use to share my thoughts and angts with her, and she was my little ray of sunshine who always wrote back saying all would be well. She once wrote to me way back in 2009 and her words warmed the cockles of my heart. She simply said: … hopefully this will help towards the building of planet why which I am determined to help happen!
Our mail exchanges continued and each was the shot of optimism I truly needed to carry on. And Harriet, like an industrious and enchanting elf continued to weave her magic and ensure that we were never in want.
Harriet never forgot her promise to me: to ensure that planet why saw the light of day. A few days back to my utter surprise she informed me that she had come up with a big idea to help raise funds for planet why: an on line net campaign aptly named: Harriets’ Album! Her idea: to create the World Family Album and to set a record! The campaign would generate funds to build Planet why: the Hope Hotel!
The project is still in its nascent stage but it is fuelled by so much love and compassion that I have no doubts it will succeed beyond expectations. When a young girl with a heart of gold decides to do something, then I know that the God of Lesser Beings becomes the wind beneath her wings.
So let us all help her realise the dreams of hundred of children of a Lesser God and help Harriet create the World Family Album.
Manu left yesterday. He left quietly, without any fuss. I remember how worried we all had been in 2009 when he had fallen terribly sick and we all thought he would not survive. But he did, beating all odds to treat us for a few more months to his smile and his incredible ways.
Since then millions of memories have flooded my mind, each more precious than the other each bringing a feeling of incredible warmth and comfort making me realise that he was more than just a project why child. In many ways he was a source of strength and even a mentor! I also realise that he was the most precious gift that the God of lesser beings had sent me, to show me the way and nudge me to take the road less travelled.
Many pass by the likes of Manu. Some at best would throw a coin his way others would simply recoil in horror. When I first met him he was not a pretty sight: his hair was matted coils, his body caked in his own dirt, his gait unsteady and his cries heart wrenching. I still do not know what made me stop and look into his eyes. But I did and that moment changed my life.
Manu’s story is no fairy tale, of maybe it is with him being the one who transformed lives and conjured miracles. God did have a mission for this broken and fractured soul, and the mission was project why! As it is for him that project why happened and flourished. My mission was to find him a home with a warm bed and a real family. I guess we both somehow succeeded in our missions as Many breathed his last in his warm bed, with his little family: Anjali, Champa, Aunty and Prabin, the ones who had loved and cared for him for the past years. I fell short of mine as I wanted him to be the first inmate of planet why, as its seed was sown the day I lay eyes on this blessed child of God.
When we first met Manu we had to take things one day at a time. Tame him at first, just as the little prince had tamed the fox. Learn his ways and decipher his moods. We did just that and to do it had to settle roots in the very street he roamed. Thus began pwhy.
The first days were difficult as he used to hobble away each time we tried to get close, or let out a heart rendering yell that stopped us in our tracks. But then we realised that he too was beginning to learn our ways and would find him waiting for us or hobbling towards us as he saw our car approaching. As I look back on those days I am filled with an incredible and yet indescribable feeling of warmth and love. My mind is flooded with feel good memories that I had forgotten. There are so many of them that come rushing, each filled with hope and tenderness.
I remember the first meal that I shared with Manu. We had got him some warm rotis and dal and sat him on a stool in front of our little classroom, his meal placed on another stool. He picked up his plate and balanced it on his knees and then patted the now empty stool and gestured me to sit on it. He then broke a piece of roti and dipped it in the daland held it out for me. I took it and ate it oblivious of the glares of those around me who saw the dirt of Manu’s hands. I only saw love. That was perhaps the very instant when I was taught the true meaning of the fox’s secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. Yes I realise today, as Manu is fighting for his life, that he was the one who taught me to look with my heart.
There are many special moments in the nine years that we have known Manu. Many huge moments like the first time Manu ate with a spoon or the first time he picked up a pencil and drew a picture (it still sits on my wall). I remember his fist ride in a car when we went to the jam session for special children and the first dance I had with Manu. I was amazed at how well he danced. I remember his first pedicure with Shalini rubbing his feet with a pumice stone and he making funny faces and sounds. I recall with pride and satisfaction the first meal Manu had in his own home after spending a night in his warm bed. And that is not all, this child of the streets who had spent the best part of his life as a beggar, turned into a perfect host as if he was to the manor born!
But above all Manu was the mirror to my soul, the one who have me the courage to look at myself with candour and honesty and showed me what I was capable of. Today I am lost yet I also know that I will have to continue my work with renewed effort to honour this very special soul’s memory.
Manu left us this afternoon. I am devastated. It is as if a part of me has gone with him. I will never be whole again. Never will my mornings be the same as from tomorrow onwards the one who never failed to grant me as smile, even if he was in the worst of moods is no more. To me that smile was the reassurance I needed to carry on.
I know soon memories will come flooding as Manu has been part and parcel of the project why journey. But at this moment the hurt is to raw to be able to make that journey down memory lane. I will in the days to come.
Today I just want to say that this incredible spirit is the one that made me who I am today. The day I first set eyes on him, is the day when my life changed forever. I realised I had a mission and he was my motivation.
Many may never believe that one such as Manu held the destiny and dreams of many in custody. And yet if it was not for Manupwhy would not have seen the light of day. It is because he came into my life and taught me to look with my heart that the rest happened: be it the child salvaged from the flames who now runs in the sun, or the fifteen little mended hearts, or the hundreds of children who pass their examinations every year.
Everyone lands on this planet with a purpose and a role to play. Even one who may seem hopeless and woebegone. Every child of God has a destiny to fulfill. And Manu was a true child of God.
Today the God of Lesser Beings decided to call Manu to his side. His spirit is now free. May he rest in peace.
I found your blog and Project Why site and it is amazing.! Your words are truly an inspiration and your projects! When i needed some insight, your beautiful face and children’s pictures popped up on my computer along, with your compelling, clear message. THANK YOU!! These words dropped in my mailbox this morning. The sender someone I had never met. Needless to say I felt elated.
Yet once the euphoria of the moment died down, I reread the message quietly and pondered over the words. It seemed that pwhy had once again cast its magic! And it also seemed that to many I was the magician. That was not quite true as in fact I was just like the sender of the mail: I too drew strength and insight from the children’s faces and smiles. It was time to talk a walk down memory lane and try and discover how and when pwhy took a life of itself and I became just a mere instrument.
In all honesty for me personally life changed when I first lay eyes on Manu. Till then charity – for want of a better word – was something that was important yes but not visceral. But the sight of Manu roaming the streets aimlessly, letting out heart wrenching cries was nothing short of unbearable and touched a chord I never knew existed. No self respecting society could allow such an aberration and though I knew that I could not change society, I also knew that from that day forth if would not be able to live with myself if I remained a mute spectator. The journey had begun, mine as much as pwhy’s. I guess at that time I still thought I held the reins in my hand. It would take another encounter before I realised that I was a mere cog in a much larger machine.
When Utpal landed on our planet many thought he would not survive. Yet somehow I knew he would. I am not professing to be a soothsayer or a seer, but as I gazed into his incredible eyes I only saw life, a life that needed to be saved and celebrated. And as the miracle enfolded in front of my bewildered eyes I knew that I was blessed and that pwhy was far larger than I could fathom.
The rest is history. Miracles happened every day and I just watched in awe, my heart filled with gratitude. Utpal left for boarding school, Manu moved into his home, scores of broken hearts got mended, umpteen children left project why with their school certificates in hand. The list is endless. Not a day passes without a miracle and not a day passes without my saying: thank you project why!
Popples is back home for his winter break. Home now is Maam’ji house as per the order of the officious looking children’s court. His mom has disappeared without leaving an address.
Yesterday Popples insisted he wanted to go to the women centre that had been another home to him for a long time as he wanted to collect some of his old toys. On reaching the centre he headed straight to what use to be his room and ferreted around in search of his old cars and other toys. We retrieved some. Then he wanted us to open the small cupboard that use to have his clothes and long before his mom’s things. He ferreted some more and then looked up with a question in his eyes. Where is the spiderman pencil box, the one Mom used to keep her change? I want Mom’s box. We were all stunned. We realised that the child was simply looking for something that belonged to his mom, something he could keep with him as a memento. The box has been taken by the mom when she left the centre.
I keep sitting in silence. The moment was pregnant with emotions too complex to define: a child’s intense love for his mom, his hurt and disappointment, his zillions of unsaid questions that no one had answers for and above all our inadequacy to make it all alright. We told him gently that the box has been taken by his mom as she had kept her money in it. The child simply answered: but it had my two rupees in it!
I cracked up and had to leave the room as tears filled my eyes and threatened to flow. No matter how much you try, you can never fill the space left empty by a mom. We did try to make things work and help the mother but failed. But the little boy never forgot and never stopped loving her. His search for the forgotten box proved that beyond doubt.
The moment passed and Popples was his ebullient self again, but I was now aware of the hint of sadness that lay hidden in his beautiful eyes and threatened to spill out at any moment. I was also conscious of how much more we needed to do to try and make things better for him.
Children get hurt by us adults. Often they are unable to deal with the situation and resort to what we easily call bad behaviour and that we are quick to reprimand. That is our mistake. Actually it is simply their way of telling is that all is not well. We have to be able to understand them and make things right. We will do it for Popples, come what may!
I sat wondering for a long time what my new year blog would be about. A new year is time for resolutions and resolves, many of which are never kept! For us 2011 is a watershed year as we are poised for the final straight line towards our sustainability. It is a do or die situation as if we are unable to meet our goals we may have to chart our journey again and set a new course. Yes 2011 is when we launch our donation drive for planet why and also the time we have given ourselves to fulfill it. It is a do or die year for planet why!
Deepak Chopra said:The greatest ideas are nothing more than daydreams until they are pushed to become reality and till now planet why has been a huge day dream. I must admit that it was one in technicolour where all details were vivid and radiant. It was a dream so close to reality that each sense was activated and one could hear, feel, see, smell and touch planet why! It has been a long time in the making – this dream! As Deepak Chopra aptly wrote the greatest ideas are nothing more than daydreams if they are not pushed to become reality. And this is what we need to do with our whole heart and soul in 2011. Planet why has to become reality.
Easier said than done as we know the road is a long and arduous one. And yet on this blessed day we need to renew our faith in our dream, to cast away all doubts and hesitation and to begin this New Year with hope and belief. This is and should be our resolution!
I will just allow myself a passing instant of vacillation where I dare to ask myself fleetingly what would happen should we fail. The thought is terrifying: Manu would roam the streets again, Champa and Anjali would be prey to predators that lurk at every corner, Munna, Radha and the others may have to fend for themselves on the streets, Utpal and his pals would have their dreams hijacked and crushed. But that is not all. If planet why does not happen than over 500 kids will not be able to get the support they so need to be able to prove their worth and fulfill their dreams. And above all the effort one has put in to craft a system that has proved its worth will just wither away. The thought is too scary and yet it could happen if we fall short of our convictions.
So on this brand new day of a brand new year we resolve to ensure that all dreams do become reality and wish yours do too!
2010 is coming to a close. It is time to cast a last glance at the year gone by, to assess its highs and lows, to reflect upon achievements and failures and ponder about resolutions that need to be made.
When I look back at 2010 the one feeling that comes to mind is one of quiet achievements. The year went by with no fuss or flurry. All centres ran like clockwork. All challenges were met with poise, all problems solved calmly. It seemed we had come of age! And it almost seemed to good to be true.
We had to close two primary centres: Sanjay Colony and Govindpuri. The former because of a sudden proliferation of new NGOs that made us almost redundant and the later because of non availability of space. In their place we opened a new primary centre across our main centre in a rented space. The new centre is now running to full capacity.
2010 also saw the coming of age of our Okhla centre. From a ramshackle space with a handful of kids, it is now a thriving semi permanent structure that has 200 children and secondary as well as computer classes. It is a matter of pride for us to see children who had joined project why in early primary classes graduate to secondary school and do us proud. And to think that many of these kids could have gone astray gives me goose bumps.
Our senior secondary kids are slowly getting used to the new examination and test pattern under the guidance of their ace teacher. And our babies are happy learning new things each day. So as they aptly sing every morning: All is well…. at pwhy!
In April 2010, three little children packed up their bags and joined our gang of five at the boarding school. So now eight pwhy kids are busy changing their morrows and believe you me they are all top of their respective classes. Way to go!
At the women centre all is well too! The centre runs to perfection; the proof: I have heard no complaints! What more should one ask! Over 300 children and 60 women execute a well orchestrated ballet and partake in their set activities in spite of the shortage of space. Kudos to the team!
Our Focus on Quality programme took off with a bang in April 2010 in two centre: Okhla and the women centre. Daily spoken English classes and awareness programmes. The result is for all to see: the children now s-p-e-a-k English even if it is halting and we even performed on stage in English! Plastic bags have almost disappeared. Both centres even have small patches of greenery and the women centre a small kitchen garden. At the women centre composting is on in a big way and all water is recycled and Saturday is hand washing day!
An eventful year isn’t it? But there is more. Ruby a young girl who had joined pwhy in class IV is now a secondary teacher at our Okhla centre and a small survey of the whereabouts of our alumni revealed that many of them were now gainfully employed in good jobs and earning handsome salaries. Many had thus broken the cycle of poverty in which they were born. Were we justified in giving ourselves a pat on our backs. Maybe not as there was so much more to do.
In 2010 we got 100 children admitted to mainstream school in consonance with our initial mission: arrest drop out rates! This is always something that fills us with great joy and pride. So all in all on the academic front we did not fare too badly.
The special kids were also spot on! As always they filled the space with their laughter and abundant energy reminding us that life is worth living no matter what the challenge be. Manu, Champa and Anjali were impeccable roomies who are slowly mastering the art of living together and complementing each other and this winter they were joined by Radha whose brittle bones could not have withstood the cold and dampness of a slum tenement. This brought to light once again the need of seeding planet why that would give such children a safe and enabling home.
Yes Planet Why is still the big dream we seek, the one that will ensure that pwhy survives the test of time. 2010 was a year where plans were refined, costings reworked, feasibility studies undertaken and new proposals drafted. We are now ready to launch our donation drive and have set 2011 to do just that. We hope that the God of Lesser beings will be on our side.
Yes, we have come of age. Now it is imperative to think of the future and consolidate what we have achieved. That is the challenge that awaits us in 2011!
It is Xmas, a time for gifts and wishes. Once again I am reminded of the words of Oren Arnold who proffers a list of Christmas gift suggestions: “To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect.” And once again this is exactly what I would like to offer to all on this hallowed day.
Gifts come in all shades and hues. They can be bought at stores or crafted painstakingly, yet the most precious ones are undoubtedly those that require you to part with a little of yourself, even if it is a tad uncomfortable. Arnold urges us to do just that. Forgiveness is not easy coming and yet it is so liberating. So is tolerance. They rid us of all the negative thoughts we carry as unnecessary baggage. Whilst giving your heart to a friend is easy, charity is a little more tricky as it loses all its meaning if you do not give a little of yourself too. As the proverb goes: is is the bone shared with the dog when you are as hungry asthe dog! Over the past 10 years I have been privy to charity in all its avatars: from the most uplifting manifestation to the vilest. Fortunately the former prevailed and that is how we have been able to carry on our work without impediments. Bless are all those who understood the true meaning of the word. It is heartwarming to see that all around the world there are people who see with their hearts and make it possible for us to carry on.
To every child a good example is the next gift suggestion. Wish we could all understand this and act accordingly. The tragedy of all those growing up in our day and age is the total lack of role models to emulate. So it becomes even more crucial for each one of us to set good examples, but do we? The question begs to be answered. We at pwhy are trying to do just that and will continue to do so.
And last of all, Arnold suggests a gift given to one’s self: respect. This is by far the most precious gift we can proffer and yet we all fall short of it. I guess that if we did learn to respect ourselves the world would be a different place where tolerance, forgiveness, charity, and good example would come by naturally.
Yesterday I was interviewed for a web journal. After the set of regular questions about work and self, the journo asked me what I felt the State should do to address the habitat for the poor issue. Build decent homes in every part of the city as slum dwellers were the backbone of the city was my impassioned plea. Habitat for the poor I has always been an issue close to my heart as over the past decade I have been privy to the plight of slum dwellers in our heartless city. Are we not the city that needs a Supreme Court order to instruct it not to demolish any homeless shelter in the dead of winter! Are we not also the city that allows people to live for THIRTY years in ramshackle tenements along a road side, issuing them all kinds of civic recognition to fatten vote banks, and then razed their dwellings one fine morning to pander to some harebrained whim? Yes we are and we should hang our heads in shame, but do we? We all know the answer to that uncomfortable question.
Winter has set in it is terribly cold. Heaters and warm clothes have come out of the closets of the rich but do we ever spare a thought of what happens to the poor?
Last week Radha’s mom came to see us. Radha is the little girl with brittle bone disease, the one who has borne the pain of over 50 fractures in her tiny life, the one whose home has been destroyed more than once and who has spent many nights on a footpath, Radha who should be handled with extreme care but who lives in cramped and damp holes that would not be considered fit for an animal in any self respecting society. Radha’s mom had a simple request: could we keep Radha in our foster care for the duration of winter as the cold was unbearable in their tiny hovel where she slept on the damp floor. I can well imagine that. Radha’s present home is a sunken hole and the child who is a just a bag of bones must have suffered excruciating pain lying on the damp and cold floor. Needless to say we agreed. She had already spent some time with us when she last broke a leg and it was a joy to have her. We would have kept her longer but she wanted to return to her home and family and we did not stop her. You see Radha is much the elder sister to her younger siblings and somehow she felt she had to be with them.
Radha moved in yesterday and she will spend the rest of winter warm and cared for. But what about the innumerable children in this soulless city who will have to bear the brunt of the cold because we have forgotten to care for our very own.
Altogether your investment of yourself into the project is getting to be a magnificent obsession which is very commendable but deserves caution. So what is it I wonder that so relentlessly drives you. I am trying to understand were the words written by someone I dearly respect. He went on to say: The scope of Project Why is exponential. This is what is concerning me. Is there an indication for rationalising the endeavour. I wonder. If your father was alive what advise would he have proffered.
