by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 12, 2010 | commonwealth games
They came at 1 crore ( 10 million a piece) and were touted as the best ever. They came in all shapes: mausoleums, Indian fort, glass boxes a strange and bizarre mix of style. Prototypes were built and the deal was that the one selected would be cloned in 200 locations while the others demolished. An absurd waste of money in my book. Residents of the chosen colonies went up in arms calling them monstrosities, something I second loudly. According to the latest buzz they will all be demolished!
I watch numbed and speechless. Do we need loos at this cost in a land where many still do not have access to a proper toilet. Oops I stand corrected: by many I meant the ones living on the other side of the fence, those no one cares about.
The reason for this blog is to vent my ire about all that is happening. I have reined my pen for a few days watching the on going saga of the Commonwealth Games or should I say Corruption Wealth Games. People lying unabashedly in front of cameras, letters appearing contradicting the lie and then more lies. People being made scape goats at the drop of a hat, others vanishing altogether like the technicians who were to man the ill famed giant balloon that cost over 38 crore rupees to the poor Indian tax payer. Every day some new scam is brought to light leaving us all bewildered and sadly helpless.
A small question does blink in our exhausted minds: who will pay the bill? And the answer is loud a clear: we! Be prepared dear Delhizen to pay more for everything, even the air you breathe. The likes of me who are in our twilight years will probably pay the bill till we breath our last. The other question that one dares ask is will the guilty pay and the answer is as clear: no! Some poor scapegoat will be found and axed publicly while the real culprits will simply disappear for a while till they regroup for the next kill. This is the sad reality and we are the ones responsible for all the mess as we have allowed our democracy to be hijacked by brigands. So grin and bear it all.
More questions come to mind, at least for those who still care: will those who have been rendered homeless get a roof on their heads; will those who have lost their livelihood be able to earn again once the drama is over – I mean the vegetable vendor, the cobbler, the iron man et al – and the answer is perhaps as the hungry mouth they once fed – the local cop or official – will start lurking again as he misses his weekly tithe. Who knows. Only time will tell.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 11, 2010 | Uncategorized
Your email has made my day (and if forecasting is allowed, perhaps my whole life! 🙂 ) Your words have given me the confidence to steer my life in the direction that I have always wanted to take. These were the words that dropped into my inbox late last night. It all began the previous day with another email that began with the words: dear Maam’ji and immediately caught my eye. Maam’ji was hallowed ground. I read on. The mail came from a young woman engineer working in a big corporation. She wrote about herself: her work, her dreams but what again caught my eye were the following words: occasionally, I accompany my grandfather and my mother to an old age home and an orphanage…and perhaps those are the only moments that make my life worthwhile. My eyes misted: here was a young woman who could see with her heart! What she wanted was to come and work with us in our special section. My heart went out to her. I wrote back to tell her it would be an honour to have her with us. Her reply were the words that begin this post.
This was indeed a very special moment for me. Let me explain why. When I set out on the pwhy journey my primary objective was undoubtedly to help make a difference in the lives of those less privileged and I must admit that we have not fared badly. But unknown to many if not all, there were many head fakes consciously strewn along the way and one of them was to be able to touch hearts of those on the other side of the fence. I always hoped that our work would inspire young educated souls and act as a catalyst for change. This is perhaps why I have spent so much time writing these blogs that as you all know are not simply a journal of our activities, but have over time become passionate musings on what I like to call the real India. I know that often what I write is old news, but I somewhat believe, or would like to do so, that I anchor it into a different reality. The hope being that the words would touch some heart. They did touch one and that in itself is nothing short of a miracle. I did begin my journey with the words: If I can change one life it would have been worth it. So I feel vindicated and elated.
But nothing comes easy. Today a young woman is willing to steer her life in a new direction and though I feel almost euphoric I also know that the road she wants to travel is not an easy one.It is wrought with obstacles, humiliation and hurt. Though you do see the best of what life can offer in the eyes of a trusting child you also see the worst: the callousness of people, the lack of concern, the cynicism and more. And yet if you want to carry on you have to battle them all holding on to the memory of the child’s eyes. It is not easy. In spite of my years and grey hair I often did come to the verge of giving up but the little child who christened me Maam’ji ensured I did not. You see I held all his morrows in my hands.
Today a young woman seems to have entrusted her morrows to me. Was I not the one who dreamt of being a mentor. Well the day had dawned. I hope my friend Godji will once again show me the way.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 9, 2010 | God of lesser beings
Yesterday was PTM day. A day I have come to look forward to for more than reasons than one. First and foremost it is the one and almost only forced day off I find myself taking with regularity. Come what may, rain sunshine or biting cold,the monthly trip to the boarding school has to be made. It is also the only time when for a few hours I get off the spinning wheel for a few blessed moments. But above all it my special time with what I would like to call the real India, where no differences exist, where all children grow and learn together freed of all labels and tags. So you would have guessed by now it is a day I look forward to with glee and excitement.
The morning dawned and blissfully there was no rain. Had there been rain the journey would have been a nightmare given the present state of our city!. No it was a warm day but the breeze was cool and clouds were playing hide and seek with the sun. It was also a special day as my little grandson was coming with us making the day perfect. The previous day had been spent shopping for goodies – cookies, pizza and doughnuts – and some little knickknacks that good old Maam’ji is supposed to have in her bag. This time we were also accompanied by Steve our volunteer from Cambridge and Gary a photographer friend who also brought along his vintage camera with tripod and black sheet. By the time the clock struck 10, we were at the school gate.
Mamaji our trusted trustee had preceded us and we were greeted by all the 8 children almost at the gate. Seven beaming smiles and one tiny unsmiling face. That was Manisha who had just been in school for three weeks and was still a little lost. It was her first PTM after all. I remembered Utpal’s first PTM and his tearful face and murmured words: I want to go home with you. Today, three years later he was more interested in the boxes and bags we held and in sharing all the happenings of the last month. Boxes and bags were retrieved and it was soon time to make the customary rounds: each child’s class and then the hostel after which we would all sit down and break bread – oops I mean pizza together.
As usual walking from classroom to classroom was a pleasure as every child was given a glowing report by the respective teachers. By this time most of the children’s parents had joined us and little Manisha had broken down as she held tightly to her mommy’s hand and murmured the expected: I want to go home. At the hostel the children once again proudly showed off their little beds and cupboards and once again we expressed our wonder and admiration. It was all part of the act. We spent a few minutes with the warden and were given a list of missing items: Utpal had broken his sandals and Manisha needed some undergarments. After warm farewells and see you next month, it was time to let our hair down.
We found a place to sit under a tree and boxes were opened and goodies handed out. The pizza tasted like heaven because it was laced with so much joy and hope. The cookies fared well too. It was a blessed moment. A picture perfect glimpse of my real India. There was Mullaji, Meher’s Muslim cleric uncle and Yash’s christian dad. Then the rest of us from all walks of life and both sides of the usually impregnable walls. All labels and tags had been left outside the school gates. Here we were one, brought together by our children. You cannot imagine what a wonderful experience it was. I am getting goose bumps writing about it. It was the India of my dreams come to life for a fleeting spell. I could feel the presence of my friend the God of Lesser beings.
But all good things do and must come to an end or else we would turn complacent. After a fun photo session the antique way, one that even the Principal joined, it was time to go. The spell was broken and the world awaited us at the other side of the gates. The only thing we knew as that come September the magic would be recast.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 6, 2010 | commonwealth games
I keep reading your blogs, and they keep me in touch with the real India wrote a friend recently. Made me wonder about what the real India really was. Is is it the one we desperately want to show the world, even if it means hiding all else. Or is it the one that lives in the the very places we so desperately want to hide?
In the recent weeks a saga has enfolded in front of our bewildered and helpless eyes. I refer to the now (ill) famed commonwealth games (CWG). Actually snippets of news about the aberrations committed in the name of the CWG had appeared time and again in the print media, often tucked away on an inside page, and we had not bothered. They did not make headline news and somehow did not touch us where it hurt. I mean the slums destroyed, the people rendered homeless, jobless et al, the shelters raised in the name of beautification, the children working on construction sites, the workers living in terrible conditions, the beggars being branded as criminals, the workers dying…! Somehow we were too blase or inured to even take note. It was only when we were told of instances of corruption that we somehow woke up from our slumber. Treadmills hired @ of 900 000 Rs for 45 days struck a chord in our jaded minds. How could that be, and it was our money to boot. So we needed answers about toilet paper rolls, umbrellas, and shady foreign deals. Homeless people were not up our street.
True there have been more than sufficient dodgy occurrences in these Games and the jury if out on them or so one would like to believe though it may well seem that the culprits will one again slime out as national (somewhat misplaced) honour is salvaged. Are we not masters at crisis management better knows as jugad. And then is public memory not dangerously short.
When the dust settles on the closing ceremony and the last light is switched off some realities will still remain. In a hard hitting article that I urge you to read an activist writes: In recent months, at least 100,000 of New Delhi’s 160,000 homeless people have been booted out of night shelters, many of which have been shut down or demolished in a bid to spruce up the city before the Commonwealth Games. Besides shutting down 22 of the city’s 46 night shelters, plans are afoot to raze slums, stamp out hundreds of street food vendors and deport 60,000 destitutes to their home states. Voluntary agencies have documented that as many as 300,000 more people may have been evicted from other parts of the city. Recent reports reveal that 44 slum clusters are being removed from around the roads and stadia where the athletes and the delegates to the games will travel and play. To add insult to injury, Delhi Chief Secretary Rakesh Mehta unapologetically preened that since it is not possible to remove all the slums before the deadline, the government had decided to use bamboo screens to simply conceal the slums from sight.
Take a moment and ask yourself where these hundred of thousands of people have gone. What has become of them, of their families, their children. All in the name of beautifying a city for a 14 day show. Are the few medals we may or may not get enough to justify this? One look at the city makes you wonder whether anything will be beautified at all. I am sure we would get medals for numbers of potholes and dug roads if there were any. And do you hide slums behind bamboo screens or any wall simply to conceal them from sight as our Chief Secretary says. Slums are an intrinsic part of the city and if the powers that be are so ashamed of them why has nothing been done to house the city’s poor who Mr Chief Secretary are not second class citizens but precious vote banks nurtured over the years by hungry politicians. Off with their heads seems to be an easy way out but we are not in wonderland!
All this talk about national pride is making me balk. What national pride when 5000 children die of malnutrition every day and rains rots in the open for want of granaries. Something is terribly wrong. So I ask again what is the real India? Is it the one our heartless leaders want to showcase in spite of everything or is it the one beyond the bamboo screen. For me it is the later. The one that carries on living in spite of all odds and is a lesson in courage, dignity and above all forgiveness. We simply seem to have forsaken them.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 4, 2010 | manu
Last week Radha returned to pwhy after two months spent at the village. We had missed her and were thrilled to have her back. We soon realised that her holiday had not been that wonderful as most of it had been spent in cast from neck to toe! For those of you who do not know Radha, she is a little girl who has OI (Osteogenis Imperfecta) better knows as brittle bone or glass bone disease. This means that even a small tap can break the little girl’s bones. In all her nine years Radha has been in a cast more than 50 times! Her situation is difficult to handle under the best of circumstances so you can imagine what is its like in a tiny hovel or in a a village where no one knows about such ailments or really cares.
And yet Radha is full of spunk and her smile is enough to melt the hardest soul. But sadly since her return the smile is missing and even if does make a fleeting appearance at times, it is tinged with sadness. We were soon to discover why. It seems her mom has been talking about her plight to all and sundry within the little girl’s earshot: she does not have long to live, what is the point of investing anything in her! The brave little girl hears it all and her smile wanes slowly till it vanishes to reappear only for brief spells.
We had visitors two days ago and Radha agreed to dance and like always she danced with her heart and like always we were transported to another world where the sun never stops shining and only all that is good prevails. The magic was short lived and the dance was ephemeral. The smile that had accompanied the dance disappeared and Radha went back to her place, her face drawn. The moment was heart wrenching.
The next morning Radha did not come to pwhy. She had had fallen in the night and broken a bone. Not only that, the Xray attendant at the hospital had not handled herwith care, and while placing her on the Xray table had broken a second bone! We were livid but helpless in a land where suing for malpractice does not exist. Prabin the special class went see her and came back aghast. Little Radha was in terrible pain and of course the mother had not bothered to purchase the prescribed painkiller. The little girl sat on her mom’s food cart, covered with flies and in agony. We had to do something and we did. We brought Radha ‘home’, or rather back to the centre where she would stay with Manu and his friends, at least till the time her cast was off.
She is now at our foster care and will stay there as long as needed and of course she will be handled with utmost care and love. When I look at Radha and at most of her classmates, the need for Planet Why becomes more than a necessity. For many parents these children are a burden they often do not quite know how to handle. They lack sensitivity and understanding and are unable to offer the enabling and loving surrounding such children need and as they grow into teenagers and then adults they become more and more alienated and suffer in silence. Planet Why would be the haven they silently and intuitively pray for and I for one will leave no stone unturned to ensure that their prayers are answered.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 2, 2010 | Uncategorized
Delhi is soon to lose one more of its wonderful landmarks, one that is as fleeting as its sunrise at dawn: its three flower markets. Wonder at whose alter they are being sacrificed? I do not know how many of you have actually imbibed the wonderful experience of this buzzing riot of colour and fragrance. It is truly unique and pure magic. Roads which are normally choked with fumes, get transformed into a carpet of shades and hues and then when the clock strikes nine, all vanishes just like Cinderella’s attire! And the flowers begin their journey to the four corners of our city: some into flower shops, others to roadside vendors, yet others to your doorstep in the shape of the daily garland that adores your house deity. These flowers touch the lives of each and everyone of us.
True this happens on public land, but so what. These markets add beauty to a city that is turning into a concrete jungle by the second. Could one not just legalise them? Soon these wonderful places will shut down and be shifted to the outskirts of the city next to, hold your breath, the meat wholesale market! And what about the livelihood of all those who work in these markets? How many families will be uprooted? But then who cares. The powers that rule this city have proved time and again that they are heartless. This is just one more instance. Will we for once raise our voices and fight for these markets or as is always the case, will we just sit and watch silently?
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 30, 2010 | Uncategorized
I am livid, hurt, upset and totally speechless. Yesterday night a news item was aired on a TV channel stating that an upmarket school in Bangalore labelled poor children as criminals. This aberration was stated in a circular sent to parents in the wake of the new Right to Education Act, which stipulates that all private schools have to admit 25% children from underprivileged backgrounds. The said circular referred to this and proclaimed that admitting poor students into the school will be detrimental to the psyche of those that are already studying there. It even added that such children beat up your child, smoke on the campus, misbehave with a girl or a teacher!
This is scary. First of all let us remember that the Act stipulates that children will be admitted in class I and thus I am at a total loss to even begin to comprehend what the school is trying to say. Do 6 year old children smoke or misbehave with girls? Wonder where. But that is not the real issue. The reality is it that this attitude though politically incorrect, is one that pervades the very fabric of our society. I have often mentioned it whenever I have talked of the elusive common school. My son cannot study in the same class as my driver’s child. Period! This is where the truth lies. We are feudal in our beliefs and will remain so. The 25% reservation was a sort of a back door entry into inclusive education and a semblance of a common school. The circular of the Bethany school just brings out in the open what many think but dare not express. In a way it is good this has come out in the open before the real implementation of the reservation policy. It shows how such back door and half hearted efforts are doomed to fail. Inclusion has to come the other way if it is to succeed. The so called school for the poor has to become a centre of excellence that will attract the so called rich and become a viable alternative to expensive private schools. You cannot make poor children second class citizens in their own country. They are full fledged citizens protected by the same Constitution and having the same right to Education than any child born on the other side of the invisible divide.
Now let us address the aberration of equating poor children to criminals. I urge you to look at the picture above. These 8 kids are form the most deprived homes you can imagine. They have been studying in an upmarket school for 2 years now. They are the pride of their school as they have excellent results, each topping its respective class, and are extremely well behaved. they do not misbehave with teachers, do not smoke or beta other kids. Need I say more.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 28, 2010 | commonwealth games
Apologies to be harping about the Commonwealth games again but then every time you step out of your home the common mess hits you in the face and your mind goes into overdrive. Yesterday I passed one of the 50 luxury loos being built for the Games. This is one is a horrendous structure in coloured glass and is tucked away in the corner of a park of a not so upmarket shopping centre in South Delhi, one that I doubt any visitor to the games would drop by. The structure is big by loo standard but actually the size of let us say a drawing room. And quite ugly too! Now @ 1 crore a piece (10 million) it seems obscene. Come to think about it what we are desperately trying to raise to make pwhy sustainable is the cost of 3 loos! (cost of building planet why: a guest house + a children’s centre).
Something is terribly wrong. The Games are under the scanner of all vigilance agencies of the land as corruption seems rampant. As I had written earlier it seems that these Games are an opportunity for all to line their bottomless pockets. So what if the work is shoddy, the material used sub standard and the infrastructure shaky. As long as some become richer, all is well! But as if that was not enough now a UK agency is investigating a dubious money transfer whereby large sums of Indian tax payer’s hard earned money has been given to a shady individual who runs a one man show in London where he provides portable loos, cars, security screens and also hold your breath, consultancy for costume design @ 25 000 pounds a month! This is getting as Alice would say curiouser and curiouser. It is also making the blood of the likes of me boil!
When questioned those in power are quick to either pass the buck or try to appeal to the pride of the country excuse. What pride! One would, as a proud Indian like to wish the whole thing away if that could be done. Stadia are not ready and even if they are they may fall on our heads, the city is a holy mess and only a miracle can salvage things. Maybe we as Indians can be proud of the fact that we have mastered the art of corruption!
Did we need such a useless and mindless extravaganza to acquire pride? What pride is there when people have lost their homes, their livelihood? In all this hullabaloo one seems to have forgotten the people who have lost everything courtesy the Games! It makes me physically sick! These zillions of rupees could have been put to better use. In our very country, the one that is busy trying to acquire misplaced pride, children die of hunger every dayand people are still desperately trying to master the art of surviving. But that is one end of the spectrum. At the other they are mastering the art of corruption. And somewhere in between we are watching helpless.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 22, 2010 | Uncategorized
For some time now, courtesy creaking bones and aching back, I have come to realise that the courting and honeymoon days of pwhy are over and that it is time to set the house in order. Sounds cryptic? Let me elucidate. For the past ten years I have been trying to answers many deafening whys and I must admit with a sense of pride that we had done quite well. Be it arresting the school drop outs, securing the morrows of the most wretched or empowering those no one believed in, we have done it all. Today over 500 school going children study in our various centres, over 100 toddlers and young souls are off the street and spend the day in a dafe environment, about 20 special children and young adults are learning to live with dignity and 3 of them even have a home and 8 children whose future was in jeopardy now study in a boarding school and who knows may one day take over the reins of pwhy!
But this can only happen if pwhy lives on or in other words if I can put my house in order. Can I, is the question I ask myself over and over again, a question that frightens me and keeps me awake many a night. Planet Why was the solution we came up with but one that is not an easy one as it requires a huge shot of funds before it can see the light of day. We have been working on it and still hope for the best. We have to remain optimists till the very end. Or so I thought till yesterday.
A phone call received yesterday almost brought the house crashing. Let me explain. Even at the worst moments, when accounts are empty and promises few, I have never thought of giving up. Yet, I almost did yesterday! The call was one of many that have been coming our way for the past few months from our bankers! Each ask an inane question, one that had been answered ad nauseum earlier and yet does not seem to register. Who is this donor? What is the money for? is this donor Indian? and so on. And each time one asks why these queries, pat comes the answer: a government requirement. When one seeks a written answer one gets an elusive reply. Mails remain unacknowledged. Everything is on done on phone, making us that much more vulnerable. How can I forget the terrible day when the same bank shut our accounts for no fault of ours: that day David took on Goliath.
To set the record straight we are an organisation that fulfils all Government stipulations and requirements. It is not easy to run a charitable organisation in India. But we do it with application and honesty and our work is there for all to see. Till recently all seemed to be on even keel. But the past months and the prying and almost humiliating questioning by small bank officials has been unbearable and this after the same bank did a due diligence on us recently in the name of new Government regulations! Then why the constant harassing with no reason given? Donations are sent back without informing us, and the pound continues mercilessly. For all these days I have been taking it with patience and restraint answering everything as best I could. How could I forget that hundreds of little souls depended on my endurance. But yesterday something snapped inside me and I was a breath away from throwing the gauntlet down and giving up. I had done enough in the past ten years, more than any and had earned my place in the sun. What no one else could so a large corporate bank had done! They had killed my spirit.
I must admit that it takes a lot to bring my new persona (post pwhy) down. I have battled authorities, slumlords and others and never batted an eyelid but somehow this constant pestering by small and petty bank officials hit me below the belt. It was nothing short of humiliating as you knew they did not have a clue about what was at stake. I was left wondering whether this was the due of anyone wanting to take the road less travelled. What made it worse was that I had made a trip to the bank last week and explained all. I was given the sleek and glib welcome you expect from huge multinational banks, with the expected ‘we will get back to you’ for every query asked. Needless to say they never got back!
As I write these words, I am trying to pick the pieces up and try and weave them together again hoping that no cracks will remain.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 21, 2010 | commonwealth games, women centre
A young man came by recently. His dream: to make a difference. His vision: to help eradicate hunger by feeding the poor. His reason: hunger hampers every aspect of growth and development. One could only but agree. In the recent report on the Commonwealth Games, published by Habitat International Coalition and aptly entitled whose wealth- whose commons, we find some startling data: 40 % of the world’s starvation-affected people live in India, 76% families (840 million) people do not get their daily required calories, 55 % of India’s women are malnourished, 46% of India’s children are malnourished, more than 320 million people in India are unable to manage three square meals a day and the most startling one: more than 5,000 children die every day from malnourishment. So hunger is a huge issue and needs to be addressed.
And yet when the passionate young man came to me, I found myself trying to almost dissuade him from his mission, or at least temper it. When we began, a decade ago, we too had a nutrition component in our programme. I remember the bananas and porridge we doled out every day. But after a some time we found that these were often being thrown away by the children who maybe got bored of these items. And how can I forget the irate mother who came screaming that the banana given to her child was rotten! Anyway, we soon stopped the programme seeing that it was getting nowhere.
In spite of the stark reality and need of addressing the hunger issue, feeding the poor is no easy task. We simply zeroed in on education knowing somehow intuitively that this was the way to go.
I have often written about the wastage of food I have seen in the slums of Delhi. It is almost as if throwing food was a way to prove that you had arrived! And yet as I said earlier hunger is a sad reality and needs to be addressed. No child should be allowed to die of hunger in any self respecting society. 5000 do. Yet, if all was well, this should not be happening. In 1975, India launched the Integrated Child Development Scheme (ICDS). It was heralded as India’s response to the challenge of providing pre-school education on one hand and breaking the vicious cycle of malnutrition, morbidity and mortality on the other and was to reach all the children in India. Huge funds were disbursed and had the programme worked no child should have been hungry. But that was not to be. As all else in India, the funds were hijacked along the way with impunity to line pockets of politicians and bureaucrats. Come to think of it India is replete with fabulous social schemes that could make all the difference but never do as they simply become ways of enriching wily individuals. I have always held that even if these schemes had been half successful, India would be a different land.
Even today a shocking story was aired on national television. Food meant for children is being eaten by dogs! The reason: lack of storage facility. 50 million people in the state need the food, but bad planning has meant that dogs will eat it! I wonder why sufficient silos and storage facilities cannot be built, it would be better use of public money than beautifying cities for games extravaganzas! But then existent silos are used for stocking, hold your breath, booze!
One can open soup kitchens galore but they will never bring about the change we seek. Change will only come when we break free of the vicious cycle of corruption in which we are all held. Media helps, activism helps but these are simply band-aid remedies. We need to stem the rot and that can only happen when the poor are give a voice. And education is the only answer. Today the beneficiaries of social programmes are unaware of their existence or see them not as a right but as an act of largesse handed out by a local politico. You see we are still a feudal society where the erstwhile landlord has been replaced by the devious politician and the scheming official.
Change will only come when every beneficiary will be empowered enough to ask for his due and seek accountability, and the key is education. But that is the one thing the powers that be do not want. No, don’t be surprised and read on.
Public education is in shambles and the princely pass percentage of 33%, prescribed by the State makes sure that no one from the lower end of the scale gets any proper education. Let me share an incident that occurred a few years back. At that time we use to teach in a reclaimed pig park under a huge tent.One fine morning a posse of officials came and told us to vacate the park. We soon found out that the authorities had decided to build a toilet block in what was once a children’s park. We decided to protest and went to see the local Municipal Councilor. He is semi literate. He brandished a paper shouting that it was not a toilet block that was coming up there but a community centre. Raju, one of our class XI students looked at the paper and pointed out that it said public conveniences and that this meant toilets. You see Raju could reach English and the Councilor could not. From that day on I was branded enemy no 1 (apt title for a Bollywood blockbuster). The reason: I was committing the cardinal sin of empowering the poor and giving them a voice. In today’s India you did not do that. The poor had to remain where they were.
But only if we do empower the poor can we bring about the change we seek. That was the message I was trying to give my young friend!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 18, 2010 | commonwealth games
Courtesy the Commonwealth Games, Delhi India’s capital city is going to have 300 Heritage Toilets, whatever that means. Each will cost 1 crore (10 million) rupees. Of course, the municipal corporation is quick to add that these loos will be seven star and better than those in any five star hotel.
A recent article in a leading weekly highlights the abysmal state of public toilets in India. There are still places where women have to walk miles in the dark to relieve themselves. Girls drop out of schools because of the lack of toilets, and women from all walks of life master the art of holding on. I remember doing that too many a time. The article goes on to say that girls are now are making toilets an essential demand to a marriage proposal. I wonder how many no star loos could have been built with ten million times three hundred!
The Commonwealth Games seems to be the playground of the rich. The poor, even if they are over 50% of the population, are not welcome. A leading NGO has published a report on the games. I urge you to read it (available as PDF at the bottom of the link). The Games seem to have violated every right enshrined in our Constitution. Over 200 000 people – men, women and children have already been evicted and as I write these words, 44 slums will be demolished and 40 000 families rendered homeless to beautify the city!
Need I say more!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 17, 2010 | Uncategorized
You can’t live a perfect day without doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you wrote John Wooden. Yesterday was one such day. We were taking Manisha to boarding school. Manisha had spent the night at the foster care and was ready early morning, her little bag in tow. She was quiet though a little perplexed. I wondered what was going on in her little mind.
We were a little late and had to set off in a hurry. There were four adults and the tiny tiny girl. She sat in silence throughout the journey. When we reached school she followed in silence and sat in the office waiting for the next step. Soon it was time to write her entrance test and she did to the best of her ability. You must remember that this little girl’s world was till now restricted to a tiny hovel in a slum and to project why. And here she was today in a strange place, one larger than anything she had ever seen, one filled with strangers: enough to rattle anyone, let alone a little girl. But she did us proud and soon it was time to take the little bag and move to the hostel. She still sat in silence but when it was time to bid farewell, a few silent tears rolled on her little cheek. I sat bravely knowing that this day would change the tiny soul’s life and was a blessed one. The tears were just a small price we all had to pay.
Once Manisha was settled in what was to become her home for years to come, we set out looking for our little gang. The bell had just rung for morning refreshment and the children were gathering in the playground. Someone was sent out to gather the brood and soon we saw them all: Utpal, Babli, Nikhil, Aditya, Vicky, Meher and Yash. They all wore huge smiles on their faces . After a short photo session it was time to catch up, we knew we only had a few minutes till the end of recess bell rang. We also were aware of the fact that these were stolen moments as parents were not meant to be in school!
It was a perfect moment with each child trying to tell us something and frankly I must admit sheepishly that I cannot quite remember what was said. I just imbibed the mood, the joy, the smiles and laughter, the kid speak: all small ways in which these wonderful children were telling me that all was well and that they were happy. I felt blessed and rewarded beyond words. In their own inimitable way my incredible seven had repaid me for everything.
Enjoy some pictures of that perfect day
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 16, 2010 | manu
We have gone from famous five, to incredible seven and now to exceptional eight. Yes little Manisha will be joining Utpal, Vicky, Nikhil, Aditya, Babli, Yash and Meher. Manisha’s story is heart rendering and I guess once again the God of small things decided to intervene. I must admit that after Yash and Mehar I had decided to put a stop ( at least a temporary one) to the boarding school saga, one that is quite extraordinary to say the least. A simple walk down memory lane brought me to a blog I had written almost 4 years ago, where I had shared what seemed at that time an impossible dream. Like all dreams it was promptly tucked away and almost forgotten. But then the God of small things (GST) decided otherwise. When things looked bleak and almost hopeless, out from the blue came a messenger who revived all dreams, even the wildest ones. It all seemed to good to be true and over and above my cherished dream of planet why, this messenger wanted to change lives of children and we set out to do just that with hope in our hearts. But then the incomprehensible happened. The messenger backed out: the dream seemed too fragile to invest in and I was left holding on to it alone.
In my shaky lap lay not only the future of Manu and his friends, but that of 4 little kids who had been taken away from their homes with the promise of a bright morrow. In hindsight I think the erstwhile messenger was simply God’s way of bringing me back to order. I knew that nothing would ever come easy but come it would! No matter how impossible. And miracles came our way, tiny ones perhaps, but blessed nonetheless. Manu was home safe and happy and soon the little children packed their bags and entered the portals of almost hallowed ground: the boarding school. I heaved a sigh of relief. It has been a long haul but one that was worth it. Who knows one day these very kids would become doctors, engineers, stars! Nothing was impossible. I wondered however whether I would be still around to see them.
Five kids in boarding school was more than enough. We still had 10 long years to go. But my friend the GST had other plans in store. Five soon became seven with Yash and Meher joining the gang of five and of course all my resolutions and resolves went for a six. It is true that when I first laid eyes on little Meher, I knew that this kid had no future. Her little face was scarred making her poor wedding material and her tiny hands maimed making her access to skills very limited and yet her joie de vivre was infectious. When a kind soul offered to repair her body I immediately added a caveat: if we did then we also had to give her a way to break the circle of extreme poverty in which she was imprisoned. Meher belonged to a very poor family where the men lived in the city and worked as house painters, the women stayed in the village and the kids played in the nearby graveyard that was the best playground available. It was a stroke of luck, or rather the GST’s ploy that she had been in the city the day I first met her!
So six it would be, or so I thought. But then what would happen to the little boy who had almost been adopted by some fancy outsiders and then dropped like a hot potato when they found a ‘better’ child! You see six had to become seven. And when a kind gentleman absolutely wanted to sponsor the school of another child, another masterstroke ensured that Manisha would be the chosen one! Seven had become eight!
In a few hours little Manisha will be joining her new friends in boarding school. She spent the night at the foster care so that she could be ready on time. We were a little concerned about how she would feel but to our utter surprise she spent the evening quietly watching TV and telling the housemother about her life. Children like Manisha are born survivors. They sense intuitively what is good for them and hold on to it with their heart and soul. I first saw this in little Utpal long ago.
It is a spirit I for one salute. Chapeau Bas! God bless them all!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 15, 2010 | commonwealth games
Last week’s torrential rains made even the most optimist soul wonder whether we would be ready for the much heralded Commonwealth games! Just an hour or so of good monsoon showers threw the city in total disarray: water logging everywhere and traffic snarls that lasted for hours. Even our quiet and placid backstreet was choker block with traffic and a friend parked outside my gate could not leave for over two hours. Now monsoon rains are predictable and every self respecting city should be prepared for them but you see with the CWG round the corner, our city is undergoing the mother of all face lift with every single road dug up.
The wisdom of hosting such games is debatable. I would urge you to read an article on this issue written by our former Sports Minister. The article may seem a tad rabid but it comes from a responsible person and quotes very trustworthy sources.
Those of you who read by blogs regularly know how I feel about the Games and how I have reacted every time some aberration or the other has taken place. But even I was shocked by some of the facts highlighted in this article and wondered at why our Government was so keen on hosting this 10 day extravaganza. Well I guess it is a matter of misplaced prestige by people who seem to have conveniently forgotten the realities that plague our land. So what began as an acceptable show soon became a free for all. Every good pavement dug up to make place for a new one was a simple means to line some pocket or the other and as everyone wanted its share of the pie, no road has been left undug, even the one on the tiny road I take every morning to reach work, one that no esteemed visitor to the CWG would ever drop by!
As an Indian I am in a fix. Much as I despise the whole Games saga and am appalled and upset at the way the poor of this city have been treated, I guess one would not like them to bring dishonour to the country as they say the show must go on and must go on well. It is a matter of pride however misplaced or false. But I also wonder why the press that has been so vocal on many issues of public interest has remained silent till date. Maybe they too are waiting for the Games to be over. I do hope they take up the issue after the last medal is won and the last guest seen off. As the article rigthly says: the only good that will come out of the Commonwealth Games would be a decision to never again bid for such games until every Indian child gets a minimum to eat, an assured basic education and a playground with trained coaches to discover the sportsperson in himself or herself. I second that!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 11, 2010 | commonwealth games
The Commonwealth games claim one more victim, the tongas! The death knell has sounded for the age old horse drawn carriages that were part of Delhi’s heritage. True only a few remained, 200 or so, but the clack of their hooves and the sound of their bells were an intrinsic part of old Delhi, and added to its old time charm. In a few days they will all be laid to rest. I guess the day had to come but what is terrible is the way in which it all happened and is happening. The past should be allowed to fade out gently and gracefully. But that was not to be. You see the Commonwealth games are coming and someone had decreed that all that is not modern has to be sanitised: smells, sounds and sights: so street food is banned, street vendors are evicted, beggars are hidden, slums raised and tongas taken off the roads. Strangely the common denominator seems to be the poor! They simply have to be wished away.
Yet all that is thought ungainly, ugly and apparently un-modern and thus not worthy of the Game is also part and parcel of this city. They are what gives Delhi its soul and thus need to be handled with care and sensitivity. This so called cosmetic modernisation is unacceptable and yet we watch it helpless and hurting.
I know tongas would have had to go one day. But the way in which it has been done is nothing short of inhuman. The 200 odd tonga owners find their livelihood snatched from them overnight. They were promised a space with hawking rights. They were promised covered stalls, all that is being handed out to them is a pavement along a busy road, miles away from the place they called home. Some have been promised three wheelers or rickshaws but the author ties are still working out the rehabilitation plan! God knows how long it will take! Most of the tonga owners are old and have never done anything else but tend to their animals and drive their carriage. Asking them to become hawkers overnight is nothing short of inhuman. They all plan to sell their horses to a state across the border and then try and reinvent themselves.
Street vendors or horse carriages have never upset any foreign visitor, on the contrary they were part of every picture a tourist took and every memory they carried back. Modernisation does not mean dealing a fatal blow to tradition.
I am sure there were more humane ways of phasing out the 200 odd tongas left in this city. Maybe they could have been spruced up and made a tourist attraction as is the case in many cities the world over. My heart goes out to the tonga drivers today as they set out finding new ways to feed their families.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 10, 2010 | okhla
PWhy’s blog sometimes makes me sad, sometimes happy. This is a lovely story, so today is a happy day wrote a dear friend after reading Project Why, Namaste. So thought I would write another sunshine tale today, one I must sheepishly admit I should have written long ago! But sometimes there are people who like remaining away from the lime light and Mithu is one such person.
Just like Preeti, Mithu got struck by polio when we was very young and just like her by the time he came to us it was too late for calipers and other such aids! But unlike Preeti, Mithu was a boy and restrictions did not apply at home so Mithu learnt to survive and thrive legs or no legs. He moved at remarkable speed with the help of his hands, climbed trees, played cricket where he bowled a mean ball and lived life to its fullest. When I suggested we get him a wheel chair, the young teenager looked at me with bewilderment and stated: I want to stand on my own feet! Needless to say I felt very small.
Mithu joined as a student in class IX but he had only one fascination and love: computers. Classes were a simple excuse to access our computers. Very soon he became savvy in every aspect of computer learning and we decided to ’employ’ him as a teacher’s aid in our main computer centre. He learnt fast and was soon taking independent classes. When one of our teachers left Mithu quietly walked into his shoes.
When we opened our Okhla computer centre it was a foregone decision that our own Mithu would head it and today he is the ‘in charge’ of that centre. He still walks on his hands, but we would like him to have a motorised tricycle that would enable him to move around with dignity!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 9, 2010 | Uncategorized
If you call 9811424877 in the mornings, you will be greeted by a very sweet Project Why, Namaste! Yes we have a new receptionist trainee and it is a very own Preeti from the special section. Preeti is one of our special girls!
Preeti walks on her hand as polio struck her when she was very young and by the time she came to us, her led muscles had become too atrophied for calipers. But that does not stop her from living life to its fullest dance and even be a karate kid!
So when we started dreaming planet why, where we had decided that we would walk the talk and show off our special children to one and all, we knew Preeti would be the one to man the reception desk. So now Preeti is making up for lost time, learning English, computers and training for a few hours a day at the project why office!
I must admit that there are times where my old bones and aching back nudge me to give up the daunting task of setting up planet why, but the soft Project Why, Namaste brought be back to order. Preeti deserves her place in the sun and I just have to see she gets it.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jul 6, 2010 | Uncategorized
Yesterday I got my first monthly report from BiharWhy. I sat a long time reading the two neatly typed pages, my eyes moist and a lump in my throat. Was this really happening? Somehow it all seemed to good to be true but true it was. All the years spent trying to empower people and make them believe in themselves had borne fruit. Even the gentle prods on the wisdom of taking the road back home and reversing the migration seemed to have worked. It almost seemed I had come full circle, even if it was in a tiny way.
I was reminded of the umpteen staff meetings where I had urged my proteges to walk the extra mile and fly on their own wings, and where I had despaired at the sullen or at best blank looks I got and yet I had never given up. I guess that is the one thing I personally learnt at pwhy: never to give up!
Today I stood vindicated and somewhat liberated. BiharWhy was not some pipe dream of seeing the why spirit soar in the land of my ancestors but a vibrant reality. And Chandan who I must confess never seemed to be the one to take the lead and had made this dream come true. And as I read his report I saw that this quiet and sometimes sullen looking young man had learnt his lessons well. In a month he had managed a parents’ meeting (something we still battle with), filled admission forms, made time tables, held a painting competition and taken a monthly test! What warmed my heart was that he had even convinced 18 parents to come for adult education classes. Soon he will be starting computer classes and even stitching ones. Wow!
His report ended with a simple statement: We are taking the classes in Bihar why project without roof. The words were pregnant with meaning: they need a roof on their little heads and I hope you will help us give them one.
Please take some time and look at these pictures: they speak volumes.
