Rarely is love instant and yet once in a blessed while it is. For the last month we have been touched by a very special kind of magic conjured by two lovely souls called Alan and Em! Alan & Em have been volunteering at pwhy for the past one month and for the past one month we have all rediscovered the true meaning of words we adults often forget like fun, joy, exultation, delight, cheerfulness, gaiety and more. But that is not all they also renewed our faith in values like trust, honesty and goodness. Alan and Em are like rays of sunshine and breaths of the freshest air.
They came with their bag of goodies and enthralled the children with magic tricks, bubble shows and mysterious machines and somehow what had always seemed so boring and tedious became luminously simple. Science, physics, maths were just games to be enjoyed. And yet the children learnt more in this one month than they had ever before.
Alan and Em are like two happy children ready to discover all that the world has to offer to them and enjoy it to its fullest. In the past month I have never seen them frown or scowl. Even when they were hit by the Delhi bug, they never lost their smile. And not only the children, but we adults, and me in particular, got some precious lessons in the art of living. Their joiedevivre is infectious to say the very least and shows that it takes very little to live life to its fullest. It is amazing how nothing ever gets these two down. You never hear a complaint or even see a fleeting sign of discontent in their eyes. They are always happy. Ask them how their day went and you hear fabulous, awesome, amazing. Ask them how the food was and you hear delicious, yummy even if you have served them a simple innocuous meal.
A & M have also given a whole new meaning to the word charity. Their generosity brings to mind the old proverb that says; 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! They simply have an implicit trust in human nature.
Knowing Alan and Emily has been a privilege and honour and we all feel blessed. Love is rarely instant yet once in a while it is: this was just one such instant.
A young couple belonging to uber rich families will tie the knot later this month in our city. Bollywood stars will attend the wedding and perform. The tag for this filmy nuptials is 25 crores or 250 million rupees. That is 5 planet whys or what is needed to run project why in its present form for 60 years! I am speechless. I remember how shocked I was when I heard that a celebrity florist was in town and would charge 2 to 4 crores to decorate a wedding venue.
A few months back a couple tied the knot in a small village in Europe. They decided to send the the money they collected during the church ceremony to project why. I also remember how touched I had been when a simple email from a young couple I had never met informed me that they had decided to donate the money normally spent on bonbonieres – traditional wedding favours – to the children of pwhy. In the past many young couples from faraway lands have donated part of their wedding bounty to the children of project why, thus creating invisible bonds of love and friendship between two young people starting their life together and children who strive for a better one.
What a difference between the two worlds.
250 million rupees to have some star gyrate at your wedding for a brief moment or shake hands with your guest is nothing short of galling. It is something I find difficult if not impossible to fathom. I do agree that everyone wants a special wedding and deserves it but there has to be some limits. A wedding is undoubtedly a precious occasion and does need to be celebrated. It is a day every young bride and groom wants to remember and perhaps having a star at your nuptials makes for lasting memories and wonderful photo ops. But one needs to cap the show. In a land like ours where a child dies of malnutrition every 8.7 minutes, 250 million rupees for a thrill is terribly misplaced. Maybe it would become more palatable if one star was given up and the money thus saved -ranging from 10 to 40 million – was spent on a charity of your choice. Imagine if that money could build a home for some destitute children, or a school, a hospital. The possibilities are endless. That structure could bear the name of the newly weds and would be a proud memory to recall.
What makes someone want to spend galling amounts of money for a single event is the question that begs to be answered. The sad reality is that anyone attending weddings looks for things to criticize and takes the rest for granted. True that one gets bedazzled for an instant but all is soon forgotten and one is seen recalling the terrible parking facility, or the long queues at the buffet table rather than the bride’s jewels or the gargantuan spread! It seems that the desire to over extend one’s self while organising such dos stems from a desire to impress and a sense of insecurity. You have to show that you have arrived and nothing is too over the top for that. Hence you invite not one, not two but a dozen stars in the hope that they will shine on your parade. That is all that matters. Never mind the tag attached. A sad reality but one that pervades all rich and poor. The only difference is that the poor do it by borrowing sums that they will take a lifetime to pay back. But reason does not prevail in such situations.
It seems that the big fat Indian wedding is here to stay.
The 3 D images of planet why truly gave substance to a long time dream and brought in a new set of apprehensions and nerves. What till now was a sedate yearning tucked away in the recesses of one’s mind suddenly sprung to life. Dreams were becoming reality and it was scary.
Many found the images amazing and wonderful and the kudos came pouring. In the midst of it all came a much needed dampener: would the idea work at all. I normally would have pooh poohed the note of caution as I often had in the past when planet why still lived in the realm of dreams but not now. I had to listen to all voices. Particularly today when we were a step away from realising a dream. It was perhaps the last chance one had to review things calmly and dispassionately before it was too late. So no matter how difficult and wearisome, it was time once again to write an apologia for planet why.
So what is planet why and why should it see the light of day? That is the question. Right from the outset planet why addressed two almost existential questions that had been plaguing us at pwhy. The first one was humane and concerned the plight of our very special children and young adults. These were the handful of lost souls that had been guided to the portals of pwhy by an unseen hand. We all knew that they needed to be cared till the end of their lives and thus was seeded the idea of a residential programme that had to outlive those who steered pwhy. Planet why was thus born. The second question was more materialistic in nature and addressed the issue of the autonomy of project why and its ability to raise its own resources. Planet why would also be a guest house that would generate funds and thus support not only the residential programme but the rest of pwhy’s initiatives.
It is easy to vindicate the first question as everyone would agree that our special children deserve but the best and keeping in mind the realities prevailing in India we know that they need life long care and the chance to live and die with dignity. Planet why would ensure just that. The second one, the sustainability of project why, is perhaps a little more difficult to defend. Some may contend that it borders on hubris. Many successful ventures close when time comes and why should it not be the case with pwhy. Others may profess that the price tag of planet why is too huge to be justified and that there may be other ways to ensure sustainability. The more cynical ones would argue that nothing needs to be perennial, and that wisdom lies in knowing that.
I will try and address each of these issues. There is no misplaced ego in wanting pwhy to live beyond me. I admit that the idea of seeing it all dwindle and fade away is difficult to accept but that in no way is the reason to seed planet why. I have often been asked what would happen to pwhy after I exit this world and the thought has kept me awake many nights. And not for any hubristic reason at all. My fears have been for those who depend on us in toto be it Manu and his friends who might find themselves on the street or the eight little souls who study in boarding school and still have a long way to go. What would happen to them? They need to be secured and planet why is for them. One could rebut this by saying that there may be other less expensive ways to do that. Touché! Yes there are. One could for instance create a corpus fund the interest of which would pay for the needs of these children. But somehow that defeats the very spirit of pwhy. Let me elucidate.
Pwhy was set up to create a model that could be replicated. One of its main mission was to empower local communities to not only steer the education of their children but also take hold of their lives and destinies. We did succeed in a certain manner as all pwhy staff is from the community. The one area however where we were left wanting was undoubtedly fund raising. All our attempts failed or at best fell very short of the targets be it our one rupee programme, our varied sales of products or our sole attempt at running a raffle. Till date fund raising remained in one hand and skills that could not be transferred. The real litmus test was to find a way that could be successfully handed over to the team. When the idea of planet why was first mooted it seemed to be one that could be steered by our team and that is why we decided to explore it further. Running a business is definitely something that can be taught.
But that is not all. Over the past years we have come to realise that imparting education, no matter how efficiently is not sufficient to change the morrows of slum children. While a small percentage of our kids move on to higher studies, the vast majority is unable to do so keeping in mind the present education scenario where either very high marks or large sums of money gives you access to higher education. A simple school leaving certificate with average marks does not get you anywhere. The need for going further was felt by one and all. Planet why could answer that need as it would provide a platform for training our kids in a host of vocational skills thus enabling them to access employment. Not only would be able to train our alumni in hospitality and related activities, but having our own space would allow us to run training workshops in many other fields. This was indeed very tempting.
So as you see planet why has been a well thought idea that aims to cover more than one issues. From providing a dignified life to those forsaken by all to ensuring that eight children complete their education and prove themselves; from ensuring that 500 children complete their schooling to allowing them to learn skills that would ensure their gainful employment, and above all giving to have to those who have steered pwhy till now the chance to show beyond doubt that they are able to run a business successfully.
Two points still need to be addressed to make this apologia honest. The doubt raised was: would it work? Or in other words does the idea make sound business sense. This was indeed our worry and we decided to take a professional approach to the question. With quivering hearts we handed over our busines proposal to world class consultants for a feasibility study. The conclusion is for all to see: In our opinion, the proposed development at Planet Why is a lucrative and financially feasible and one which would be able to generate much higher returns than are typically found in guest houses operating across Delhi.
The last slightly uncomfortable question that needs to be asked as it is one that is in every one’s mind is whether the project is worth the cost that will need to be incurred. May I simply state that the cost of planet why equals what is needed to run pwhy for 5 years and will allow the work to continue for times to come. Is that not reason enough.
Yesterday evening, our architect delivered the first 3 D representation of planet why! I must admit that I was floored. Over the past 3 years I had conjured many images of planet why. At that time it had been a piece of barren land that held unimaginable promises. I would close my eyes and see it come to life. I must admit that what I saw were the smiles of my special children, what I heard was their laughter and what I experienced was pure joy. The building remained elusive. I am no builder. Yet when I gave my brief to our wonderful architect I tried to pour out my heart. But no matter how hard I tried I never saw planet why!
So imagine my excitement as I waited for the file to download yesterday and my delight when I finally saw planet why come to life, albeit yet on a screen. My eyes filled with tears of joy. I was watching the morrows of project why as if and when this building came to life, my children would be safe and I would be able to go in peace. My promise to Manu would have been fulfilled.
I was reminded of Henry Thoreau ‘s words: If you build castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. It was time to do just that.
The Right to Education Act should have guaranteed free and equitable education to all the children in India. Alas that is not the case and the sad part is that most of us are unaware of the surreptitious games being played by those in power. An article that appeared this week in a well known magazine brings this fact to light. Want to sit on the same bench as America is worth reading. Those of my vintage will remember the days a few decades ago when state run schools worked well and universities were easy of access. Come to think of it there was no or little choice outside these.
How many of us know that way back in 1991 the Indian government accepted the conditionality of Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP) imposed by the US-led World Bank-IMF regime. This required that public expenditure be reduced on education, health and social welfare. From 2000 onwards, these dilutions and distortions were repackaged and ‘marketed’ under a new label called Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan (education for all). The failure of SSA to provide elementary education (Class I-VIII) to India’s 20 crore children in the 6-14 year age group by the target year of 2010 meant that policymakers rephrased SSA goals downwards and did not undertake a causal analysis to rectify it. This may have again gone undetected by the likes of us as it was all happening on the other side of the fence and did not affect our children. But think about it and your blood runs cold. On the one hand the children of India get the constitutional right to education but on the other the state starts abdicating its duty to provide the same.
The commercialisation of education had begun; PPP (public private partnership), subsidies to profit making institutions, education loans and a cynically orchestrated media campaign buttressed by internationally funded high-profile NGOs to destroy the credibility of the public-funded education system rung the death knell of state run education both at the school and university. The State abdicated its constitutional obligation. Markets needs would now dictate knowledge content and we would become a major global provider of low-cost skilled but subservient ‘foot soldiers’ who reinforce the subjugation, hegemony and greed of global capital
The cruel reality is that millions of children who could have aspired to better morrows were the state education system running, will now be forced to remain where they are not because they lack the skills and ability but because they were born on the other side of the fence and can never afford education which now comes with a hefty price tag.
The little girl in the picture was also born on the wrong side of the fence, yet her brave family scrapped the barrel, tighten the belts till it hurts to ensure that she and her elder sister go to a school on the other side of the invisible fence. It is not easy as there are so many bills to pay but they are not ones to give up and yet I wonder whether this little girl will be able to go the whole nine yards.
In this new emerging scenario what is available for children born on the other side of the fence is an ersatz education that cannot take them far. Sadly their parents are unable to comprehend the reality and react and the children themselves are voiceless and helpless. By the time they do gain a voice it would be too late.
Two little faces greeted me this Diwali morning and I knew I was blessed. Utpal is here for his Diwali break and Agastya my grandchild is thrilled to have his best pal with him. The day was spent with these two little souls that the God of Lesser Beings was magnanimous enough to send my way as a precious gift.
Popples aka Utpal, came into my life almost 8 years ago when I still did not quite know what my morrows would be. At that time pwhy was still very fragile and tenuous and I must admit I was not even certain it would pass the test of time. Utpal’s terrible tryst with fire changed all that. Suddenly everything acquired a new meaning: Utpal had to be saved and this was no short term option, it was a life time engagement. Project why had acquired a life time lease and I became Ma’amji! Utpal had showed me the way I was seeking.
Agastya landed in my arms almost two years ago when the knees had just begun creaking and the gait was slowing down. The day I first held him in my arms I became Nani. It was a miraculous shot in the arm and the desire to live and see him grow made all aches and pain vanish in the air. It was time to live: two little boys ensured that. I must admit that deep in my heart, the desire to see these two bond and care for each other was paramount and yet I did not know if that would be. But the first time they met they took to each other and proved beyond doubt that all schismatic attempts to divide human beings and hence society did not and could not have divine sanction. It did not matter where you came from. Love knew no bounds.
So having them with me this Diwali was a rare treat. It was a magical day that passed too fast. I did not let the boys out of my sight as we shopped, played, prayed, danced and reveled. Even Agastya knew it was a special moment as we forewent his sleep and savoured every moment of the day. As I tucked the boys to sleep late in the night I mouthed a special and silent thank you to the God of lesser beings for having made me Nani and Ma’amji!
Project Why proudly presents its first ever English play: let us save trees. The play has been written and performed by our children with a little help from their wonderful teacher Smita.
Wow what a proud moment for us all! I must confess that I sat through the play with moist eyes and a lump in my throat. I must also admit that whilst watching the play I did not hear the halting English or the hesitant delivery. For me it was nothing sort of perfect. And more than that it was a true vindication of our focus on quality programme launched barely a few months ago. It was a ah ha moment indeed. Just a few months back the young protagonists of the play could barely utter a few word of English. At best they could spout a few words by rote. When we began the programme many thought it too ambitious, others a pure waste of ressources. And yet we held on and launched it. Over and above the regular after school support, the primary kids spent a short hour learning spoken English. I somehow believed the experience would bear fruits sooner than later and I was proved right yesterday when a bunch of boys took the stage in a language they had always feared. This was the way to go and I knew deep in my heart that we had crossed a yet invisible barrier.
I know that the road ahead is still very long and filled with many hurdles, but somehow today as I watched the tiny play I knew we would cross them all.
A phone call last week informed me that we had been shortlisted as possible beneficiaries of a page 3 charity do. This came as a surprise because our brush with page 3 soirees and bashes were things of the past. There was a time many moons ago when we did make almost regular appearances at such events but those days were long gone and somehow our tryst with the rich and famous had been short lived. So imagine my surprise when they came knocking again. I was informed that I had to go the next day and present our case to the members of the executive committee of the planned event. My first reaction was to refuse but beggars can never be choosers.
The meeting was fixed for the very next day. It seemed that all the short listed organisations were to be given 15 minutes to present their case and then the said committee would decide which one would benefit from the proceeds of the evening. It all seemed very cut and dry. I decided to give it my best shot and leave the rest to the God of Lesser beings.
I reached the appointed place with a few minutes to spare. Somehow I felt very alone and lost in a world I had said my farewells too long ago. Soon it was our turn and I was led to a room where 6 people sat around a conference table. An empty chair beckoned me. I sat down. A few brief presentations and greetings and then the stage was mine. The countdown had begun and I had just fifteen minutes to put forward 10 years of work, to share the hope and dreams of so many and to prove to all present that we were worthy of their help.
I did but somehow I felt no one was really listening. It seemed like a show put up for some unknown reasons, it seemed as if all decisions had been made well before the game began. The people around that table belonged to the other side of the fence and did not really want to know about Manu, Utpal or Radha. I wondered why I had been invited at all. When I had finished my presentation, the leader of the pack asked be bluntly what would happen after me. Normally that question would have shocked and angered me but it did not and I simply smiled and told him: planet why!
That is when I realised that something had changed and that I had taken a huge step without knowing. Gone was the angst of the past, in its place was a sense of acceptance and calm. I remembered the time when any mention of what would happen to pwhy once I had exited this world brought anger and wrath. Today it just brought a smile. True I was still worried about pwhy’s future, true I wanted above anything else to see planet why happen, but if it did not then I somehow knew something else would happen and take care of the problem. This new found attitude stemmed from the fact that I felt that matters were no more in my hand, but in the hand of the one who had placed the future of so many in my care. He and he alone would show the way. Today it seemed like it would be planet why but were that not to happen I am sure an alternative would come about and ensure the succession.
You have a soft corner for the under privileged, which is so good. People generally don’t have time to spare a thought for the children of a lesser God said the comment on my post Game Over! A few days later a surprise note on a social network urged people to reach out to project like ours. The note aptly entitled the inconvenience of charity was written by a dear friend.
Seemed like some Jungian synchronicity!
For the past weeks I have been wondering how I would address our everlasting and never ending funding issue for the coming year and find the missing numbers. I was running out of words and did not know where to begin. I too am aware of the strains of the purse strings even when the heart is big. But I am also aware of the hundreds of Children of a Lesser God who depend on my capacity to once again pa(e)nhandle with conviction. For the past 10 years I have tried to perfect the art of panhandling and the fact that I am still at it after a decade goes to show that I must have done so with a good measure of success. But each year there are missing numbers that require to be met. I guess this is again a trick of my friend the God of Lesser Beings who wants to ensure that I never sink into a comfort zone and thus forget what my true mission is.
Panhandling is very humbling particularly for one who had always found money matters to be infradig. That was before pwhy and before my encounter with children of a Lesser God. Once they came into my life, things changed at the speed of light and what was once hateful simple became par to the course. Thus began my years of soliciting help from one and all. To say it was easy would be an untruth. And yet it had to be done because each coin that was dropped my way transformed in a smile as if by magic.
In a way I am glad that things have not come easy. This has enabled me to appreciate the true value of what I hold in custody. As my friend aptly said it is nothing short of trying to climb Kilimanjaro or run a desert marathon. And yet I find myself doing it each and every day with joy. And though the God of Lesser Beings does play his tricks, he also creates the right backdrop each time I find myself in doubt. Just like this time when he gently reminded me of my soft corner for the underprivileged. I must admit that there are times when the bones ache and the pace slackens and I find myself wondering how much longer. But these moments are mercifully short and fleeting. All that is needed to call me back to order is a little hand that finds mine or a cheek quietly proffered for a kiss.
So here I am again seeking help and support or as a young friend once said here I am seeking permission to continue. And this is truly what it is. I am asking you to allow us to carry on what we are doing: ensuring that one more batch of students complete their studies or move into the next class, ensuring that a group of little souls are able to acquire the skills needed to enter the portals of a school, ensuring that a bunch of very special kids spend one more day of their lives in laughter and joy. Simple things that should ordinarily happen without much ado, but that often come at a price for children of a lesser God. Every penny we sought and continue to seek is to do just that. No more, no less.
The scooter stopped at the red light. This was the light next to my house, the one where I had encountered my little beggar girl many months back, the one where I often found myself rummaging in my bag for some of the goodies I carry to give out to the little beggar children that crowd around my auto. For the past three weeks not a single child greeted me as courtesy the Commonwealth Games all beggars had been rounded up and hidden away. So for the past weeks I had sat quietly in my auto and continued reading my book. That was exactly what I was doing when I felt a tug at my pants and heard a little voice demanding: Chocorate, chocorate! I instantly looked up and there was one of my little beggar girls. They were back. By they I mean the beggars that live under the flyover next to my home and beg at the red light. And chocorate is the generic used by the children to demand the goodies I carry. It could be a biscuit, a banana, a toffee or a bar of chocolate. They all knew that I never gave money.
I looked at the child woefully as my bag was empty but promised her chocorate the next day. She looked at me first crossly but then gave me a huge smile and set off to knock at the next car window. The gang was back in business as the games were over. I must admit I felt a sense of relief in seeing them back. Maybe we were finally getting back our lost soul. Please do not misunderstand me. I am not offering an apology for begging, far from that as it is something I abhor and was the first why I wanted to address but sadly could not. Our nutritive biscuit programme failed miserably. We did not find any takers.I guess people were just not ready to accept their part of responsibility. We still had to learn the art of looking into people’s eyes.
As I said it was comforting to see that the beggars were back because I wondered where they had been banished to and feared for them. Their return proved that nothing had really changed. You see beggars are not a real problem for the satraps that rule us. They were simply and embarrassment, something you were sort of ashamed of and needed to hide while you supposedly put your best foot forward. So you hid them and now that the show is over you let them lose again. You are not ready to assume responsibility and address the problem. It makes me see red. We are talking of people and of children who should not be knocking at your car window but sitting on a school bench. They should not be asking for chocorate but learning to spell the word correctly!
You are one of those few people I know who truly love what they are doing wrote a friend. Innocuous words at first but they got me thinking and setting of on an inward journey. For the past ten years I have been so caught up in keeping the ship afloat that I have rarely given myself time to take a back seat, catch my breath and savour moments the way I should have. But my friend’s remark made me stop in my tracks and realise that what she said was incredibly true. For the past ten years, in spite of all the problems and hardships I have truly loved what I have been doing. I guess it is sometimes a sense of perhaps misplaced decency that refrained me from letting out whoops of joy each time something special occurred. My friend’s question ultimately nudged me to ask myself the question: who am I today.
Who am I? I do not know how many of us ask ourselves this question over time. There can be simple answers. You are from a particular country, of a particular gender, have a particular profession, a particular religion, a certain age and so on. So I am Indian, an old woman, a social worker etc. Some of these markers can change with time, some stay with you for a life time. Some of not much consequence. The others are the ones you build yourself and have the liberty to alter and even change. And the question you need to ask yourself is Who am I, today!
Often you are portrayed through your relationships with another so you become a good or bad daughter, spouse, friend, sibling, citizen and so on. But here again the description is insufficient and inadequate leaving you still wondering who you truly are.
Another friend recently wrote about the importance of finding your voice. It was an innocuous remark pertaining to a very specific situation but somehow it struck a deep chord inside me. It seemed an answer to a deep search I had embarked on, the search of who I truly was. Over the past 10 years, when I began the pwhy journey I have felt more and more alienated by what was once comfortable and sufficient. As pwhy grew so did my loneliness. The situation was paradoxical as when I set up pwhy I was painfully alone but pwhy brought innumerable new souls into my life. Then why the loneliness? Perhaps because I suddenly felt alone in my world, perhaps because all reference points suddenly seemed pointless and empty. I realised that the time had come to redefine myself but that was no easy task.
With each step on the pwhy road I felt I moved away by quantum leaps from the world that I had known and found ample. Suddenly it felt painfully deficient. Once I had crossed the invisible line I had unwillingly abdicated the right to be one of my erstwhile peers. I had done the unthinkable in a land where you were conditioned to remain in your determined framework. If you did dare venture out of the box you had to be prepared to pay the price. Sounds cryptic. Let me try and elucidate.
Say you belong to a particular social class, then all your activities are defined by it. Your conversations, your likes and dislikes and so on on are almost predefined and that is the world you are meant to navigate in. Now say you have tasted other flavors and dare bring them into the closed doors of your predetermined orb, you are immediately considered persona non grata! I remember how quickly people moved away from me when I use to try talking about pwhy in up market parties. I felt like a pariah. But the other side of the coin was that the other world was not ready to accept you as one of them. There you were put on a pedestal and had to remain there and that is when the loneliness set in. You suddenly became no one’s child. And yet you so wanted to belong at least somewhere. It was a real predicament and there seemed to be no ready answer.
But slowly as time passed , people grew less in awe of you and more willing to accept you. True these people would never become your intellectual sparring partners, but they surrounded you with so much love that you once again felt content and wanted. Wonder who they are? Let me introduce you to some of them. It is Utpal and his endearing ways, Manu and his lopsided smile that greets me every morning, the band of special children and their cheerful Good Morning Ma’am, the tiny creche kids, the Okhla children, the Khader children and their incredible smiles. But that is not all: it is also the Lohar ladies who never failed to produce a syrupy cup of tea and a lovely hand slapped roti; the innumerable families who have always opened their homes and heart to me; the simple people who illuminate my day every single morning and make it worth living.
So today I am above all Anou Ma’am and I like what I see and truly feel that this is who I want to be till the end of my days.
It is finally over.. I mean the CWG and we can all get back to our lives.. or so I hope. Games over, let the audit begin scream headlines as everyone is on overdrive trying to exonerate themselves and pass the buck. Committees are being formed, agencies roped in to examine all charges. I do hope something does come out of it but why then am I feeling so despondent. I guess, without being a cynic, it is because of a sense of deja vu.
A few days back I urged everyone to spare a thought for the myriad of workers who had toiled to ensure that the show happened. Salute them we must. Today another touching set of pictures brought the same people to mind. A photo essay entitled the Other Games, depicts the plight of the CWG children. The worker’s kids who played their own set of games well before the Games began. It is extremely touching and speaks volumes. Again I gently urge you to spend some time looking at the pictures. I did and as I looked at the innocent faces I could not stop myself from asking the loud question that begged to be asked: where were they today? Most of these children’s families, like thousands of others were brought from other states. Wonder whether they are still in this city or have gone back home. Wonder whether their parents have found jobs. And if they are still here do they have a roof on their heads? Questions crowd the mind. Don’t these children have rights like all the other children of India. Right to education to begin with. Yet while their parents toiled they were left to their own devise in makeshift inhuman shelters or on the pavement, living their childhood as best they could. Who usurped their rights? I guess we all did and must bear the shame.
As the mud slinging continues and the enquiries get on their way my thoughts go to all those who lost their homes because of the Games, to those who lost their livelihood, to those who were compelled to leave the city for the hallowed fortnight as there was no work. To my Lohar friends whose life changed forever simply because they lived on a road guests would zip past. Will the enquiries, audits, probes give them back what they have lost. No way. They will need to rescript their lives and reinvent themselves. Wonder if they will be able to do so. Hope the God of Lesser Beings will once again conjure a miracle.
There was a PTM at the boarding school yesterday and as always it was pure joy to see our exceptional eight! It was also Kiran‘s birthday and she had decided to celebrate it with her special pal Utpal and his friends. So we had chocolate cake and pizza and other goodies. It was a quaint birthday party held in the housemother’s room, with a band of very special children and lot of laughter and cheer.
But that was not the highlight of the day. You may wonder what it was then? Well it was little Manisha who just could not stop smiling. Her happiness was infectious and heartwarming. She just beamed all the time, her smile getting bigger if you asked her if she was happy at school! In two months she had put on weight and was looking for want of a better word: sparkling!
It was indeed a special moment to see this child who just a few months ago had been living in a hell hole and who by a twist of fate or should I say by the grace of my friends the God of lesser beings, saw her life touched by a miracle. The tears and anxiety for the past were gone for ever and in its place was this big huge smile that said it all. I tried to imagine what could have been going in her little head but stopped myself as it may just have taken away the pure magic of that blessed moment.
Once more I say Chapeau Bas to the God of lesser beings!
An article entitled no sir slums are not eyesores(the article is at the end of the list) warmed the cockles of my heart! This article written by an eminent economist is an apologia for slums. The author writes: cities must not be elite in a sea of rural despond. They must provide income and social ladders for the poor and unskilled to climb up…. we must have more slums. These are entry points for the poor into urban havens of opportunity…. some see slums as hubs of sub human existence …but you will find an astonishingly wide range of economic activities….if cities are to fulfill their critical function of social mobility we need more slums... Wow an article after my own heart!
And before you start talking of reverse migration by making rural areas prosperous listen to what the author has to say: India has 160 millions hectare of cultivable land for 1250 million people or 1/8 of a hectare per person and even if the urban share of population doubles from todays 30 % to 60 % it will just be 1/3 of a hectare per person! It is not without reason that rural folks migrate to cities. How wretched rural India must be if people see more hope in urban shanties!
Welcome to the world of what I have always called small entrepreneurs, the ones our satraps are so keen on destroying and obliterating and yet the only ones which can ensure that India prospers. Who are they you ask. Just look around and you will find them: it is you corner samosa seller, your food cart owner, your vegetable vendor, your fruit vendor. It is the young man who walks the streets to repair broken zips, the street corner cobbler or the street tailor always ready to mend your shoes and clothes. It is the enterprising lad who sets up an array of guides and help books in front of an exam centre, or the one who sells all you need for a particular festival. It is the family that makes soft toys in their hovel before selling them at fairs and melas. It is all your pavement vendors who sell the trinkets you need. It is also the plumber, painter, mason, carpenter who sit at road corners hoping to get work for the day. They are the real heart and soul of our land and we need to ensure that they thrive.
Each one feeds a family, educates children and enables them to dream of better morrows. Most of the pwhy children’s parents are just that: small entrepreneurs and it is their blood and sweat that ensures that their children prosper. We have many such kids: the son of our three wheeler driver who today teaches secondary classes at pwhy’s Okhla centre, the vegetable vendor’s daughter who today works in a call centre, the gypsy brothers who after a stint as teachers at pwhy have now got better jobs one at the airport and the other in a bank – the list ins endless and each is an India story. There are so many of them, each endearing and moving.
Life in the city, even in a hovel opens new vistas often thanks to the ever present TV set. I have seen enfold in from of my eyes many times over the last decade. I have seen how a tiny business opportunity brings change into the darkest hovel. This is the social mobility the article highlights, a throbbing and pulsating exercise in hope and belief. There is no other way out, at least for the time being.
A news item brought a bit of cheer. The headline was NGO brings in kids to fill stadia. Yippee! So the poor do come useful in the common wealth games, good that you did not banish or hide them all Madam CEO! Apparently this great idea came after a lot of brainstorming. And it is a double whammy as for the children, watching Indian and international athletes live in action is something that they will cherish throughout their lives but for the OC, giving them these complementary tickets has taken care of their biggest worry — filling up empty seats.
How nice if this had been something the Organising Committee had thought of before. A few seats for the poor children would have been well appreciated. Anyway better late than never. I am sure the children will cherish this moment forever.
And there is more. Seeing all the athletes from small town India winning Gold Medals is heart warming as we all know the odds they have to face. And what about Geeta whose father fought will all village elders to ensure that his daughters follow their dream of wrestling! A real India story!
The Games are on… and one has not forgotten the terrible things that have preceded then. The Games are on … with its share of blunders that happen every day and make our heckles rise. But our athletes do deserve our kudos as they are doing their very best. When then Games are finally over then it will time to ask all the questions that now lie in abeyance. Let us not forget that.
The opening ceremony of the XIX Commonwealth Games was a resounding success. Indi’s pride was restored or so many think. On the same day an investigative weekly ran an article entitled: We who built your games. It is a poignant photo essay of the trails and tribulations of the hundreds of thousands of workers who built the said Games brick by brick. I think that today when the lights are shining and the world is lauding us, they above all need to be saluted or at lest remembered. Please do spend a few minutes and read the article and look at the pictures.
I have often talked of the faceless and voiceless Indian who I have held is the real backbone of our country but few of us are willing to recognise this. So today as a mark of honour to all those who toiled day and night to make the Games are success, to all those who died while doing so I urge you again to spend a few minutes and look at the faces which thanks to this article have a name and listen to what they have to say. They were almost 200 000 labourers who made the Game possible and each was paid a paltry 100 Rs, half the minimum wage and less than what some were paid in the Asian games way back in 1982! They lived in squalor and filth but never complained. They suffered fever and pain but all they got was an innocuous pill doled out by some government doctor. If they did not recover in 5 days they lost their job!
There were no safety belts even if you hung at dizzy heights and no helmets. Over 1000 died though the official figure stands frozen at 42. No laws protected them as most were not registered. You see by not registering them contractors saved 360 crores a year. Once their work finished they have simply been pushed out of the city, back to where they were brought from.
Spend some time on the slide show of the article meet Rajdeb who slept in the open, see how they lived and what they ate. Meet Raj (slide 9) born in a tin box, or Pramod and his family (slide 12) who fled drought and landed in a tin box. This is the real face of the Games but sadly one no one will see or bother about. Today we have a chance to salute them and salute them we must.
It was a strange Sunday. One that I have never experienced before. The city was like a fortress and we felt under siege. A friend who landed from Europe after a few months found the drive from the airport almost eerie. Though the city looked squeaky clean she felt Delhi had lost its soul. The roads were shiny and empty. Gone was the hustle and bustle that are such an intrinsic part of the city. The smell, the colours, the familiar sounds were all absent. Delhi was almost a ghost city. She asked me what was wrong and I could just reply the Commonwealth Games!
Over a much needed cup of tea I tried to fill her in on all that had happened in the last months and about how those in power had decided to rid the city of what they thought was not to be seen: in a nutshell the poor! This was very well articulated by the CEO of the city when she said: We are not trying to hide but you know that you are receiving guests. Yes, Delhi has been decorated – for Commonwealth Games, for celebration…lot of things are there. Don’t you have the right to light up your house on Diwali or whatever festival you may celebrate and are you trying to hide your poverty at that point of time?..But when you get a guest at your house and when the eyes of the world are going to be on this city, would you not like it to look like a nice city? I find it difficult to accept. To me the city today looks alien and soulless. And the decision to close everything just reinforced the feeling. It was one of the most claustrophobic days of my existence.
We cannot and should not forget the reality we live in. We are a poor country as more than 40% of our population lives below the poverty line and there is no way we can conceal that. The honest way would be to accept the reality and take steps to counter it. Wish our leaders did that.
The next cup of tea and there we were discussing the attitude of the rich towards the poor. This is best exemplified in the attitude my peers have had to our boarding school programme. I have yet to find one country mate who has applauded the idea of sending eight of the most deprived children to a ‘good’ school. For them it remains a no no! You see in India you do not mix the rich and the poor, the lines have to remain drawn and cannot be crossed. And if you dare delve further ans ask some disturbing questions pat comes the answer: karma. The poor’s karma is what makes them poor and you do not meddle with that. My answer is a little different: what about our karma, does it not compel us to help those in need. Mine does. And that is simply what I have been doing for the last 10 years and will continue till I breathe my last.
To our CEO who asks candidly : would you not like to look nice, my answer is a loud yes but our ways differ. I would like to look nice by accepting the harsh reality and not looking away; by finding answers and showing to the world that we are aware of our problems and are actively engaged in solving them. I would also like to add that I would like to look nice for ourselves and not just to the eyes of the world. So maybe it is time we addressed the issues of beggars, street children, homeless people. It is time we cleaned up the whole city and got rid of all the pot holes, not just the ones on the roads guests would take. It is time we stop pretending that all is well and addressed real issues. But is anyone really interested?
India First is the campaign launched by a leading TV channel in the wake of the judgement being pronounced later today on what is known as the oldest property dispute in Independent India. Political parries are urging all to remain calm and young India is exhorting us to look forward and at the real problems that plague our land. I guess all this because the memories of December 1992 are still fresh in many minds. No one is willing to take any chances: schools have been shut incertain states, demonstrations banned, leave of police personnel cancelled and the country is on tenterhooks.
So what is all this about.
There are many ways of looking at the Ram Janam Bhoomi/Babri Masjid issue. I will take the most candid one and borrow the title of an earlier blog I wrote: it is all about ladoos, cake and sewaiyans! In December 2009, when a volunteer decided to celebrate Xmas in our newly opened women centre where the children were predominantly Muslims and Hindus, I had to explain what Xmas was, I did so by telling them that it was a festival where you ate cake and not ladoos or sewaiyans and somehow the children understood. I could have also sung them the Usha Uthup song where she talks of all festivals as being days when you wear new clothes, visit friends and relatives and eat nice food be it Xmas, Eid or Diwali. That is how simple it actually is. You can either see temple or mosques, or if you do with your heart see a house of God.
But sadly religion has been used by power hungry people to justify the worst aberrations possible like the one that happened in December 1992 when a house of one God was brought down in the name of another. On that December day I was ashamed of my religion as I am each time an aberration is committed in the name of religion. I wrote an earlier blog on this and am reproducing some of it below.
I am a Hindu by birth and by choice. I was born to profoundly Hindu parents but grew up in lands of diverse faiths. My parents never imposed their views or beliefs. At home Hindu festivals were celebrated with fervour and some ritualism and the many questions I asked at different moments of my life were answered candidly and without fuss. It is much later in life that I discovered that my mother was not really bent on ritualism but it was her way of introducing me to my faith. I grew up with my set of questions and doubts and each one got cleared with simple honesty.
When I asked one day whether I could go to church and partake of communion as all my school friends did ( I was in a convent school) my parents simply answered that I could if no one had any objection. I guess I had expected a vehement refusal and was a little perplexed by their reaction. I did go to church often and even found a humane priest who allowed me to taste the holy wafer. Some years later while in an Islamic country I wanted to fast in the holy month of Ramadan and once again I got the warm approval of my parents. I celebrated the Sabbath with my Jewish pals too and with every such occurrence my belief got strengthened as I was proud of belonging to a religion that did not close any door in my face but on the other hand allowed me to embrace all faiths. I was proud to be a Hindu.The tales my parents told me only went to reinforce my faith. I was delighted by the pranks of Lord Krishna and by the touching tales of Ram when he ate the fruits proffered by Sabri or rode in Kevat’s boat. I never felt the need to question the sagacity and humanness of the religion I was born in. Till the fateful day in 2002.
Today as India’s stands waiting for a court decision that will decide which faith a particular piece of land belongs to and hoping against hope that no violence will ensue, my thoughts go back to that fateful day when my headache vanished thanks to the prayer of a little boy to a faceless and nameless God who listens to those who pray with their heart. He is the one I now pray to and hope that once again he will hear.
Rarely is love instant and yet once in a blessed while it is. For the last month we have been touched by a very special kind of magic conjured by two lovely souls called Alan and Em! Alan & Em have been volunteering at pwhy for the past one month and for the past one month we have all rediscovered the true meaning of words we adults often forget like fun, joy, exultation, delight, cheerfulness, gaiety and more. But that is not all they also renewed our faith in values like trust, honesty and goodness. Alan and Em are like rays of sunshine and breaths of the freshest air.
They came with their bag of goodies and enthralled the children with magic tricks, bubble shows and mysterious machines and somehow what had always seemed so boring and tedious became luminously simple. Science, physics, maths were just games to be enjoyed. And yet the children learnt more in this one month than they had ever before.
