by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 23, 2009 | Uncategorized
Jai Ho sang India as Oscars dropped Slumdog Millionaire‘s way. It was a day of celebration indeed and India was on cue, a fact dutifully reported all day long by all media channels. Larger than life images were aired again and again for all to see. India walked the legendary red carpet in more ways than one. Bollywood heroes and little slum kids in smart tuxedos and designer dresses walked side by side. For a few hours at least all differences seemed to have been forgotten.
I do not know how long the Slumdog euphoria will last. How long will it take for India to slink back into its usual indifference. And quite frankly I do not know what the real excitement is really all about. Slumdog was undoubtedly an excellent film and deserved all the kudos. it got but what I ask myself is whether anyone really looked and saw what lay behind the stunning pictures and lilting music. What actually set my thoughts this way was the reaction of a friend after he saw the film. He was simply horrified at the blinding scene in the film and was aghast to learn that this was the rule rather than the exception. And I guess this must have been the reaction of many, as in India we rarely look beyond what we want to see.
I watched the film again, this time trying to look beyond the glitz and glare, and realised that Slumdog Millionaire touched upon many issues that I have tried to highlight for many years now be it the abhorring plight of the beggar racket, or the desperate predicament of women caught in the spiral of the flesh trade, or the hijacked childhood of little children born at the wrong time in the wrong place. The film touched upon these issues in a poignant way but then follows its course and transcends into a story of love and hope, culminating in its Kodak moment both in the film and in reality: the boy getting his girl on a railway platform or the final walk on a red carpet!
My story does not end there. I have tried over the years and to the best of my ability to take the story further and highlight the uncomfortable reality that permeates our social fabric. What I mean is vindicated in the success of Slumdog Millionaire. It has taken a film made by an outsider to see what lay under our noses. I only hope that we are able to keep on looking and seeing.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 22, 2009 | Uncategorized
Anjali’s mom died last night. She died as unobtrusively as she lived. She died in a hospital bed, her daughter by her side.
Dorothy came into our lives nine years ago, when we began our work in the Giri Nagar slums. A diminutive and withdrawn woman, her story was one that would move anyone willing to hear it and yet one shared by so many women. She came to Delhi from her tribal village in search of much needed work. She was lucky to get employment in a good home where she worked for some years. Her employer, a kind hearted old lady, passed away and left her some money. That was enough to set predators prowling. She was lured by an already married man who offered her what every woman seeks and fell in the trap. The man ‘married’ her and impregnated her with a child. The child, young Anjali was born with a mental and physical handicap. Needless to say, after after having used and abused her and spent all her money, he left her high and dry.
Dorothy began to clean homes, her little girl sitting by her side and slowly picked up the threads of her shattered life. It was not easy, but the brave woman did not give up. However with Anjali growing up, it was not easy to get work. When she came to work for us we were just beginning and had no special section, so we got Anjali admitted to a residential centre where she spent a year. When we opened our day care for special kids, Anjali was back with her mom.
The mom worked in the day in a private house and mother and daughter lived together in the tiny hovel that was there home. Life was not perfect but it was held together by the love of two desperate souls.
Dorothy was in poor health and we were concerned about Anjali’s future. We knew that if anything was to happen to her, Anjali would be left alone and prey to all kind of predators in search of fresh blood. When we began our foster care last year we tried to convince Dorothy to send her daughter but is was not easy come. Perhaps they each needed each other too much and were not ready to be separated. We were worried about Anjali now a young woman as she spent many hours alone in her slum. We did not give up and a few months back Anjali came to live at our foster care. Mother and daughter still spent their week ends together.
Dorothy’s health started worsening and she was unable to work. We gave her a small job at our women centre and tried to convince her to come and live with us. She refused as she wanted to hold on to her small jhuggi in the slum, one she had bought with great difficulty and which was her only possession in the whole world. Some time back she became very sick, her frail and worn out body swelling beyond recognition. Anjali left the foster care to look after her mom and it was heart wrenching to see her tend to the one who gave her life, albeit an imperfect one, with love and tenderness. Last week Dorothy was admitted to hospital and again it was Anjali who was at her side 24/7. She breathed her last on Sunday morning. A tragic life had come to an end. I only hope that in her last moments she remembered our pledge to look after her daughter and tied in peace.
Dorothy’s life brings many questions to mind and highlights the plight of many women in India today. Force to flee the safety of their homes in search of work they land in the cruel world of urban slums. Danger lurks at every corner. If they escape being sold into the flesh trade, sometimes simply because they are unattractive, they may land into the clutches of an abusive employer. If like Dorothy they are lucky enough to find a good job, they are in no way saved; they have just bought themselves some time. In Dorothy’s case her ruin lay in the money that came her way. Predators are patient and crafty. Had her child been a boy or at least normal, she may still have had a chance but with a disabled girl child her death knell was sounded. It was just a matter of time. I could go on listing the pitfalls of Dorothy’s tragic life. They are simply endless.
Anjali’s mom was lucky in as much as she came into our lives and secured a safe morrow for her child. But I cannot even begin to imagine what could have happened to Anjali had we not be there. You see just as her mom had some money left to her by her employer, Anjali has the tiny hovel that her mother bought and that now belongs to her. A prize possession in a city where housing is a huge problem. The little jhuggi she possesses may be illegal but they have the papers and token that ensure that were it to be raised, they would get 12,5 square meters of land somewhere in the city. By tomorrow morning a new set of predators in the garb of grieving relatives will surely be at the child’s door step, crocodile tears in place. I just hope that we will be able to get Anjali away in time.
I am often asked why I stubbornly hold on to my planet why dream in spite of the fact that huge amounts need to be raised, no mean task in our day and age. True that one of the main factors I often cite is that of long term sustainability but the real reasons for planet why are much deeper. The very instant we agreed to have a day care for special children, we had taken an irreversible step: we became responsible for the lives of these children forever, particularly for those like Anjali who we knew had no one after the demise of their parents. For me personally it was impossible to think of the day where we closed this section and left the children in a lurch. Everything one believed in and held as true would come to naught. The unexpected demise of Anjali’s mom has just made my resolve to see planet why happen stronger.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 21, 2009 | Uncategorized
We have everything we want from life, we now want to reach out to others. Surprising words in a time when everyone is talking depression, recession and dark times. And even more surprising when you learn that they come from a young couple, with two young children living in the heart of Europe. But Kajal and Olivier are no ordinary people. They are one of a kind.
Let me simply tell you how they came into pwhy’s life.
About two weeks back these two souls landed in our world unexpectedly. They had got our address from the website and found their way to our computer centre. From there they were guided to our office. It took us a long tine to fathom what they really wanted as their request was rather unusual. Normally people do drop by and want to extend their help and often do so by writing a cheque or handing us an envelope, after a quick and fleeting visit of our different centres, spending at best half a day with us. But that was not what K and O wanted. Their plans were quite different.
We sat for along time talking and slowly it emerged that for K and O, this visit had far deeper meaning then the usual visit to a local NGO that is often on the menu of travelers. Their visit was to say the least a mission. K is from Mauritius, the land of my ancestors, and though she was born in Europe, she felt the need to come and reconnect with the land where her roots lay. I knew exactly what she felt as I found myself going back in time to the day where I stood looking at the village my own ancestors came from and whispering to myself: I have a debt to pay. I guess K felt the same way and O followed her dream.
They shared their idea: to make a film and thus garner funds for us. We were again in for a surprise. Many have made films about pwhy. Most have been shot in the span of a day or two. But this was not want these two incredible beings wanted. They had other plans. The next day they moved from a centrally located hotel to a guest house close to pwhy and set to task. After visiting all our centres they made a detailed script and started the shoot. It took over 12 days to complete as they imbibed the spirit of each centre and carefully and gently turned it into images.
It was not an easy task, as both K and O filmed with their hearts. On the second or third day, after they had visited the home of some of the children, K and O called us and said they needed to talk. It was a heart wrenching moment as they sat with moist eyes trying to share the pain and sense of the abject helplessness they felt. I talked to them for a long time, sharing my own journey and telling them how I too had felt powerless and vulnerable when I had begun, and how I had processed all that I faced and turned it slowly and painstakingly into what today was pwhy. I tried to tell them how what they were doing was huge and would truly make a difference. I tried to show them that change and transformation happened one life at a time, one day at a time and that there were no miracles or quick fixes. One had to walk the road less traveled, and often do it alone.
My heart went out to this young couple who had left their young children in the care of another and traveled thousands of miles to bring hope and smiles in the lives of children they did not know. I was gratified to see that they both understood what I was trying to convey. The filming was resumed and completed. Along the way K and O made many little friends and were touched by the plight of many be it little Nanhe and his incredible smile, Preeti and her indomitable spirit or spunky Meher. And if classes were diligently filmed and interviews canned, I know it is the smile of these little kids that K and O will take back in their hearts and remember for a long time.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 20, 2009 | Uncategorized
Yesterday an acquaintance dropped by. A is known for his apocalyptic view of live and his almost legendary pessimism. Even when things are looking up, A has mastered the art of whipping up his palette of dark colours and painting everything black. So needless to say, the present world situation is the right canvass for his sombre creations.
A talked about days to come, about impeding wars to be waged for all the wrong reasons and dark times lurking around the corner. He of course gave seemingly logical reasons and had us all nodding with him as he spoke on. I listened on for a while but soon found myself lost in my own thoughts. There was no denying the fact that things were bad and getting worse but could one allows one self to wallow in the mire and get lulled by doomsday vision. To give up without a fight and sink into despair was not my cup of tea.
The next morning brought more of the same: a mail from a staunch supporter that stated: the economy is tanking and there’s a general sense of unease .. I am feeling a bit jittery about the fund raising situation. I can imagine what you must be going through. Strangely I was surprised at her words as frankly, things had remained quite the same for me and my fund raising saga. I wondered whether I needed to look at both these occurrences as an ominous warning of things to come. It is true that we have had some funders citing the economic situation to explain their decision to stop helping us but other than that the struggle seems to be the same as always.
At pwhy we have no corpus funds invested on some market or the other. Our bank balance just about covers us for a month or at best two. I must admit that our hand to mouth existence that seemed a drawback to many, has in its own warped way protected us. My mind goes back to an earlier post where one had talked about reinstating values like compassion and understanding in a world that seemed to be in free fall. To my cynical friend who insists that only wars can redress the plummeting economy, I would like to answer that perhaps the time had come to look at ourselves, and at others with new eyes; to redefine our needs and wants and to create a new palette of bright colours with hues called love, compassion, warmth, empathy, understanding and so on and paint startling and heartwarming pictures of hope.
That is just what I am busy doing!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 19, 2009 | Uncategorized
In a few days the destinies of two little women will be transformed forever. Spirited Babli is busy packing her bag for boarding school and spunky Meher will soon be undergoing the first of a series of reconstructive surgeries to repair her maimed hands and scalded face.
It was almost four years ago that Babli came into our lives. I remember her frail body and thumping heartbeats as if it was yesterday. I also remember her determined voice as she asserted time and again that she wanted to be a policewomen. Babli was born with a congenital heart defect and needed surgery. What endeared her was her will to live life at its fullest in spite of her debilitating disease. Babli was operated upon and the holes in her heart mended. We heaved a sigh of relief and thought that things were now back on tracks for little Babli. How wrong we were as this was just one of the many false starts in this lovely child’s existence. Six months after her surgery Babli was seen one day manning her father’s ware on a cart while he played cards near by. Needless to say we were livid. We ensured that Babli return to school and set about finding a long term solution for this lovely child and her dreams. We found an organisation that we thought would accept her but once again fell victims to administrative imbroglios. One more false start. Babli’s dreams seemed to be in jeopardy.
But as I have always held, there is a God of lesser beings who watches on his children and intervenes in unexpected ways, usually when all seems lost. A set of complex and unexpected circumstances led to our setting up our foster care programme and needless to say Babli was our first choice. And in spite of many hurdles Babli is now ready to join her boarding school.
I am no crystal ball reader or star gazer but I know that Babli is about to take her first steps into a whole new world where everything is possible. True the road is along one but knowing our little woman of substance I know she will come out a winner.
There is another little woman whose life is about to change. Meher hopped into our lives a few months ago and from day one she heralded loudly that she was there for all to see and acknowledge. Her maimed hands, her scarred face and bald pate were no deterrent as she made it all up by her larger than life presence. Severely burnt whens she was but a baby, Meher had no real morrow. Her completely destroyed hands ensured that she would not even be able to make it through school. We were all worried and somewhat helpless. But our God of lesser beings was at work as once again a set of unforeseen circumstances made the impossible possible.
In a few days Meher will have the first of a series of reconstructive surgeries that will not only give her back the use of her hands but also take care of her face and scalp. It will be a long journey again but one that has to be taken. But it does not stop there, Meher needs a real future, one where education is the real cornerstone. So if the God of lesser beings is truly at work, the day will come when this little woman will also take the road to boarding school and begin her tryst with destiny.
Meher and Babli are true survivors. Nothing can break their indomitable spirits be it a heart full of holes or a maimed body. They hold on to their dreams with alacrity and make sure you dream with them too!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 15, 2009 | Uncategorized
Yesterday was St Valentine’s Day. Sadly it has been in the news for all the wrong reasons with moral brigades out to chastise lovebirds in the name of religion, culture and misplaced morality. Once again the media has had a field day defending the right to love and so on and as usual politicians and other have jumped in the fray and given their two penny bit.
It is true that St V’s day is often equated to romantic love, but are there not other forms of love that need to be celebrated and extolled: the nurturing love of a parent, the affectionate love of a friend and above all unconditional love, the one that you give without expecting anything in return, the one that is often expressed in covert ways and furtive gestures. St V’s is not simply about candy boxes and heart shaped cards, but about the most wonderful gift given to mankind: love.
A simple message from some dears friends dropped in my mail box. It simply said:
It’s Feb 14th, and here in Europe it’s Valentine’s Day, a day when people show their love with flowers, chocolates, champagne, jewellery, etc. Instead of spending money on those things, we’ve decided to make an extra donation to Project Why, to share a little love with the beautiful children of pwhy. The words were not only touching but reflected the true meaning of days such as St V’s.
To answer those who rabidly profess that St V’s is against our culture and tradition one would like to say that any celebration of love cannot negate any values or heritage. The most one would concede is that it has been commercialised to the hilt but is that not what ails our times. On the flip side maybe it is not such an outrage to be reminded to show one’s love for those we care for most and often take for granted or praise one that deserves to be acknowledged.
What makes me see red is the undue importance given to such a trivial issue be it by politicians, media or even supposedly educated citizens. What happens to the same troika when real aberrations take place be it the slaying of a girl child, the burning of a bride or simply the sight of a young child used as child labour by the family next door. I had to agree with a participant of one the innumerable love debates aired yesterday when he blamed the media for abetting the moral brigades simply by giving them the exposure they craved for.
Why can we not look at S V’s day as one when flower sellers will sell a few more flowers and each one of us will remember to take a little time and salute those we care for and love.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 13, 2009 | Uncategorized
I have often talked about the lure of comfort zones, and the ease with which we sink into them. For the past too long now I have kept away from the day-to-day activities of pwhy. What began as a very conscious and intended decision turned unwittingly into a habit .
I remember early days when I use to check myself from jumping into my three wheeler and setting off to one of the pwhy centres or from picking up the phone to call and find out what was happening. The reason for my voluntary absence was to enable the staff to taken on responsibilities, make decisions and become truly empowered and I must admit that they did a great job making me slowly redundant. True I was informed and briefed about everything and all important decisions were never taken without my consent, but as time passed I realised that everything was going the way I wanted. I had trained my team better than expected.
Was it not what I strived and hoped for. And yet I must confess that there were times when I missed the good old days when one was forever on the field and in the thick of things. My new avatar as the one stuck in front of a computer screen playing with numbers and keeping them in check was not what I had envisaged for myself! So recently when a spate of visitors and new volunteers came to pwhy, I decided to be part of the grand tour!
We went from one place to the other, spending a few minutes at each location. Everywhere we went we were greeted by cheery faces, huge smiles and loud good mornings or afternoons. Classes were filled to the brim and surprisingly tidy and everyone was busy. My mind could not stop itself going back to the day when it all started and to the tiny jhuggi where a handful of kids sat quietly learning their first English words. I could not have imagined then that nine years later over 700 children would be part of the pwhy family. I felt an immense sense of pride laced with immense gratitude. What a journey it has been!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 10, 2009 | Uncategorized
I always enjoy Utpal’s PTMs. For those few hours I get off the spinning wheel, cast my woes aside, forget about funds and balance sheets and set out for the day with a song in my heart and a spring in my ageing and aching feet!
It is always exciting to set out early morning for the long drive and the journey is filled with happy thoughts. Yesterday was one such happy day. We reached school in time and the first task after a few hurried hellos to the guard and staff was to reach his hostel and find him. As always we were greeted by the posse of small kids crowding at the door, each on the look out for his or her parents. Utpal was among them in his read hooded shirt, a tad shy as his warden looked on. After a few minutes spent with his warden it was time to set off for the day. First stop his classroom where we needed to collect his report card. Once again he had done us proud. After a further few minutes spent with his Kamala Ma’am who showed us his craft work and drawings, it was time to fly the coop for a few hours. As always I asked him what he wanted to do and promptly came the answer: pizza khana hai (i want to eat a pizza).
In the car, Amit who had come with us handed him over a box with some cake that he had got from home. Utpal opened the box, a big smile on his face, and then looked around expecting someone to hand him over a spoon. Needless to say we had forgotten to get one. Utpal looked at us with a mischievous smile as he said: should I eat it as my horse does! We laughed our guts out and took the box away telling him we would get him a spoon later.
At the pizza parlour, Utpal regaled us with his usual antics. He sipped his drink his eyes closed and his hands behind his back, danced to the blaring rock music, ate his pizza and ice cream and fed us some too. Time flew, as it always does when one is happy. It was time to leave. Next stop the local grocery to buy his monthly tuck. Biscuits, peanuts and dates where the choice of the day. Then the dreaded moment arrived, the drive back to school. We were going to leave him earlier than usual as I had some work in the afternoon. In the car I gave him the little packet of toys I had bought earlier and that lay hidden in my bag: a small car, a yoyo and some other trinkets. Utpal was all excited as he explored the bag and opened each item. He started telling us what he would do with each of them.
We reached school and he got out of the car his precious packets in his hand. As we set off to walk him back to his hostel, three little boys who were sitting in the school ground whispered: they did not even feed him anything, they just took him out and bough him some things. To which Utpal quipped back: I ate pizza.
We reached the hostel and needless to say the lump in my throat was on there on cue, and the burning in my eyes heralded the dreaded tears, but Utpal the survivor par excellence was already busy with his pals making plans for the remaining part of the day. He had moved on and I realised that it was his way of showing me that all was well and that I could move on too!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 8, 2009 | manu
For the past one year now a motley crew of six have been sharing a home. For the past one year they have learnt to live together, love and respect one another and have shared some unique and wonderful moments. Funnily of all our programmes and projects this is the one that never got a proper name: from foster care, to children’s chance, to happy home each always falling short of what it truly was. Even its genesis was complex. Does it lie in the dream conjured silently almost a decade back when I first lay eyes on Manu, or in the almost clinical vision of social change foisted upon us by a potential saviour who came and went leaving unfulfilled dreams in our custody. Or perhaps in both.
In a few days or weeks at most, four of these children will leave the safety and comfort of their little home and begin a new life in boarding school. And in a few days or weeks at most we will need to find a new option for their their three remaining roomies: Manu, Champa and Anjali. And as they enjoy the last days of their time together, I find my pondering about the year gone by. Was it only a year back that I sat vehemently opposing the idea mooted by our erstwhile potential funder who wanted to include what he called a foster care cum scholarship programme in our planet why vision? As he juggled numbers and worked out projections, I sat stunned wondering how anyone could play with children’s lives in such a way. To me the whole approach reeked of social engineering, something I could and would not accept. But beggars cannot be choosers and at that precise moment the person in question was willing to back our own dreams and vision for the future. One had to find a via media, and one did: a small trial programme with four carefully selected children in order to assess the viability and validity of the proposed project.
Things did not turn out to be what we had hoped for, and the person disappeared leaving us holding the dreams of these four kids in our hands. There was no going back even if we could not even begin to fathom how we would pull this one through. We walked into uncharted territory boldly and bravely if I may say so. The little foster care programme began in earnest. The four children – Babli, Vicky, Nikhil and Aditya – were sent to a small prep school where they learnt was would be needed to take the big plunge in a world normally reserved for the privileged. They surpassed themselves and past the litmus test: their entrance examination to the boarding school. Today they are all set to join it, once we manage to muster the funds needed for them to do so.
While the children played by the rules and never faltered, we began the uphill task of finding people who would help us fund the education of these incredible kids. Easier said than done as we came up against unbelievable opposition. What we were doing was crossing the invisible line and that was anathema to many. But we have not given up hope as to us it would be anathema to send our little slumdogs backs to the slums. Wish we had a millionaire show where we knew all the answers.
The story does end here. As we sat wondering about how we would manage the days ahead, we realised that once the four kids have left us, our present premises would be too big for the remaining three inmates. The obvious choice would be to rent a smaller flat and hence save some pennies too but oh daring yeh hai India and people do not rent homes to disabled human beings and Manu, Champa and Anjali belong to the kind our society rejects and would like to wish away. For the past weeks we have been looking in vain for alternative accommodation. It looks like we may not be able to find any.
As I sit in what looks like a twilight world I ask myself a simple question: where do they go now and wait for a miracle to come my way!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 6, 2009 | Uncategorized
What is your one single special wish was the question asked by a visiting friend to a bunch of teenage girls at our women centre. The question was met with stony silence and a few quizzical glares. Children from slums are rarely asked what their wishes are. But all children have dreams and aspirations. It was time to try and ferret them out.
D, our committed coordinator decided to rephrase the question: if you had 1000 Rs what would you get. And out came the answers: a watch, a tape recorder, clothes, school books, gifts for my siblings, a new school bag, clips for my hair and more. Simple dreams, simple desires that reflected the small things that we take for granted but that hold such meaning for these kids. None costing anything close to the 1000 imaginary rupees, and yet things that were so dear to these young girls. The answers were moving in their simplicity.
We decided to delve deeper and asked what they would like to change around them if they could and pat came the answers: get rid of the dirt and garbage around us, get clean water, plant more trees and so on. One young girl simply said she wanted people to learn to respect others. The reason for this was touching: she has no father and her mother works but is often the butt of nasty and misplaced comments. She just wanted others to respect her mom.
Children have wisdom beyond their age but sadly cannot always express their views or share their opinions. No one is willing to listen to them.
A day earlier the same friend had asked the same question to our special kids, the ones many think have no dreams. This is what they said: Radha who can never walk wants to be a dancer. Ankur a policeman, Anurag simply wants to become a big man and Preeti a teacher. Dreams that may seem impossible but are nevertheless important to these children of a lesser God. No dream is ever too small, no dream is ever too big…
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 4, 2009 | Uncategorized
How long will it take for little Komal’s scars to heal. I am not talking about the bruises and lesions but of the scars now seared on a little six year old’ s soul. Komal was mercilessly and brutally beaten by sadistic and sick cops in a small town of Uttar Pradesh. Her crime: 200 rs stolen from a woman who thought her to be the culprit. Komal was beaten in public by a policeman while many watched. Her heart rendering cries and pleas fell on deaf years. Actually everyone seemed to be enjoying the show not realising that the camera was rolling.
Her crime was that she belonged to the poorest of the poor, the lowest of the low, those who often become the butt of many a vile game. And this is no isolated incident. The poor and voiceless are subjected to such brutality day in and day out.
The images played out yesterday are disturbing in more ways than one. The despair of the tiny girl in her long skirt and bare feet, screaming and pleading is disturbing indeed but what was more frightening was the look of sadistic pleasure on the faces of the perpetrators, what was more disturbing was the smiles and sneers and the total absence of sensitivity of those looking on.
Komal’s horrific story is the talk of the day as is always the case. Debates are aired on every channel. In one such debate a retired police officer mentioned the fact that policemen were harassed, stressed and overworked and thus vented their frustration. I would like to ask the person whether the same cop would vent his so called frustration on his own 6 year old. There was talk of the need of reforms and more stringent laws. But a juvenile justice act exists which did protect this child if it had been applied.
Had the cameras not been there was the tag line used by one of the TV channels and one really wonders what would have happened to little Komal had the cameras not been there. How long would it have taken for the sadistic cop to vent his so called frustration or how long would the onlookers have enjoyed the show. What is disturbing is that each and every time an aberration like this occurs in full public view, no one reaches out to help the victim. Wonder why?
But the cameras were rolling and Komal’s story was for all to see. Since then a huge damage control drama is in operation: the cops have surrendered, one is in jail the other on bail. Komal’s family was visited by senior police officers who proffered apologies, police stations will be informed about the right of children and so on. But will all this heal the scars of the soul of little Komal. And above all will cameras be rolling the next time another Komal is brutalised.
There are more questions that need to be asked. When will we as a civil society cease to be mute spectators? When will we stop pointing fingers at the weak, the voiceless and the poor each time a petty crime is committed? Will the woman who falsely accused little Komal be made accountable? And will the perpetrator of this heinous abuse be truly punished?
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 1, 2009 | Uncategorized
Little D has been rejected by 18 schools. He is just three and was one of the 400 000 aspirants to the 200 000 seats in nurseries run by coveted schools. So even with my poor math 200 000 kids are left in the lurch having failed to meet the requirements of the complicated and ambiguous point system.
Let me elucidate. Little D applied to a neighborhood school thus getting the proximity to school points. But that is where it stops he cannot get the 5 points he would have got were his parents alumni of the school – they belong to another city – or the 2o if he had a sibling in school – he is the first child- , or the 5 if he was a girl child – he is a boy – or the whopping 20 were his parents post graduates – his family is one of first generation learners who want to give the best to their child.
The point system is needless to say elitist, even though it pretends to be fair and transparent. Fees charged by private schools are indeed a deterrent but even if a first generation learner parent managed to surmount this obstacle, the point system ensures that he will be weeded out sooner than later. The caste system pervades insidiously and surreptitiously and we will keep the status quo. Good schools for kids with sparkling pedigrees, the others relegated to the squalor of municipal schools by force majeure. Yes how can little D produce a masters degree for his parents and even if he did how could they manage to fill the long questionnaire akin to an exam paper or answer the questions fired to them in a language they do not master. The Ganguly 100 pint system is a clever ploy to preserve the prerogative of the upper classes. Schools in India have a long way to go before they become level playing grounds for all the children of India, you know the ones who have a constitutional right to free education of equitable quality!
So where does D go from here, or where do the 200 000 rejected children go. To private nursery schools I guess till next year when they will need to get admissions in class I. But these classes will already be filled with the school’s nursery kids. True there are lesser schools, those that have not yet become famous and then there are the state run schools both by the municipal corporation and the state administration the later a little better than the former. But as things stand this is not yet an option for the parents of the 200 000 kids. I say not yet because the day is not far when they may just have to become the only viable alternative or so one would want: a common school that offers free and equitable education for all. True that the road will be long and the detractors many, and true again that the state run schools will need to be revamped and restyled. Let us go back a few years, oh not so very long ago, to the days when public schools were few and many children from the middle class went to government schools. Peruse the bio data of present and past senior government officers, bankers and other well placed people and you will see that they are often product of government schools. So why can this not happen again.
Today the obsession of sending your child to a English Medium Public School has percolated to the lowest classes of society. Yet it was music to my years to hear some parents mention on the various debate on admission aired on every channel the word government school. True that everyone felt they were not an option as the were poorly run, but somehow one felt that if they were made better parents would consider it an option. So why can’t we? Maybe because there are many forces who do not want this to happen, but that is another debate. The reality is that as I write these words is that 200 000 kids have been rejected and have nowhere to go!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 31, 2009 | Uncategorized
Cinema Paradiso is a touching film. It is about youth, friendship, hope and the magic of movies. Cinema Paradiso is also the name of our new cine club that was inaugurated yesterday with a special show for our very special children.
The idea of a cine club for slum kids was first mooted by our dear friend Xavier many years ago. I must confess that the idea seemed rather incongruous to me as I struggled to survive perfecting the art of a hand to mouth existence. But Xavier held on to his dream and he is one who makes dreams come true.
The dream did come true as a sparkling home theatre was bought and set up in our new library. After many discussions it was decided that the cinema club would be inaugurated with a screening for our very special kids. This was because most if not all of these children have never been to a movie hall and are never likely to. This was also because these children are never taken out of their homes or given any treat. So yesterday as the clock struck ten, the 20 odd kids were bundled up in our three wheelers and taken to the library located a short distance away. There was palpable excitement as they put on their shoes and set off for the short journey. There was even more excitement as they entered the the small room and saw the screen on the wall. They quickly sat down, eyes wide open staring at the images on the screen. After s small introduction where each word I said was greeted by warm applause and vehement nods of the head, it was show time: one the menu a 1915 Charlie Chaplin film.
The kids sat mesmerised, laughing at each slapstick moment. Everyone was having a ball, even those who could not hear. The giggles were infectious and we laughed with them, more moved by their enthusiasm and joy than by the on goings in screen. Everyone has a great time. It did not matter if you could not hear, speak, walk, talk: the show transcended all barriers. It was a runaway success.
Some may wonder why have a library filled with books in an alien language an a state of the art home theatre for a bunch of poor slum kids. I must admit that there are many who think this way, the kind of people for whom charity is a good way of getting rid of your rubbish and easing your conscience. In their parlance beautiful, enriching and elevating pursuits are the prerogative of the rich and not fit for consumption for the poor. But we at pwhy differ and believe that every child has a right to get the best of everything. So our little library and small cine club aims at just that: bringing to deprived children a little bit of the magic of books and the wonder of the silver screen.
Welcome to Cinema Paradiso!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 28, 2009 | Uncategorized
In a country where the constitution guarantees that the State shall ensure provision of free education of equitable quality for all children (Artice 21A), the Government of Delhi has approved a fee hike in what is known as private schools.
Do not think that private schools are only for the privileged and well endowed. In today’s Delhi such schools cater to a wide cross section of society. The reason being that the so called free education to be guaranteed by the state is in a state of total despair and not fit for consumption. Parents today, even the humbler ones look for other options, and these come with a price tag. But parents are willing to walk that extra mile and give their children a better start in life. And as the demand grew, in keeping with markets forces, private schools grew at an exponential rate. It was the boom of teaching shops that mushroomed at each street corner and event though they flaunted all rules in the book they nevertheless catered to the needs of the day.
Private schools big or small became laws in themselves and helpless parents had no option but abide by all the rules they imposed. Regular fee increases, development and building funds and even donations had to be paid. And as the power of such schools grew, the option of the free school dwindled by the day as state run schools went from bad to worse. We at pwhy have first hand experience of the state of such schools as most of our kids frequent such schools. We watched with dismay the booming school business thrive.
What was truly infuriating was the fact that with a little help kids from government schools were able to perform well. The question that needed to be asked was why nothing was being done to improve the state of government run schools and make them a sound and viable option. The answer was written on the wall: the private school lobby was too strong. The common school system that India so needs and that would finally ensure free and equitable education to all of India’s children has had a very troubled history and is nowhere near becoming a reality. Quite the contrary is happening as the government seems to be turning into the best advocate for private schools. Even the 25% reservations of seats in private schools for economically weaker students was quietly dropped by the government. One would have thought that governments were meant to protect rights but the rapidity with which the latst increase in fees was accepted shows what the reality is.
In a recent debate on this very issue, a rather pompous private school manager brushed aside a question asked by a parent by declaring that if parents were not happy with the increase they could take their children out and send them to a state run school. Well Sir, I wish this was a viable option as many would just do that.
Parents will cut corners, tighten their belts and meet this increase and maybe the next one too, but there will be a day when this will not be possible. I wonder what will happen to the children then as nothing is being done to improve the institutions that are supposed to be providing the free education of equitable quality that is the Constitutional right of every single child born in this land.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 28, 2009 | Uncategorized
The despicable, abhorrent and loathsome attack on young girls in a pub has outraged the entire nation. The incident defeats all reasoning and has left everyone in a state of shock. What is even more appalling is the fact that the reprehensible assault on young women was done in the name of religion by so called and self professed guardians of morality who had the audacity to state that they are acting to preserve Indian culture.
As expected there is widespread indignation among civil society. Sadly the whole issue has also become fodder for dubious agendas and political bashing. What is even more regrettable is that the perpetrators may be go scot-free or at best with minimum punishment.
That women were treated with such contempt by a bunch of hooligans while many watched is shameful and speaks volumes about the prevalent state of affairs. How far will we stoop in the name of religion.
I remember a December day sixteen years ago when I felt ashamed of my religion just as I am today. It was the day a house of God was destroyed in the name of another God, in the occurrence mine. On that fateful day I questioned my own faith just as I do today.
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.
Once again my faith is wavering. Which form of Hinduism is supposedly being defended by attacking women in public? What culture is being preserved? Are we not one of the only religions that worships Goddesses with misplaced fervour? So how can anyone stoop down to such acts. Where are our so called religious heads, and why are they silent. I have often asked myself why our so called god men, the ones you see on TV and that have huge following never speak out when such incidents take place. They simply chose to remain silent. Be it the killing of a girl child, the burning of a bride for dowry, or the raping of a Dalit girl, one has never heard a public condemnation by the innumerable religious men. They seem to be stubbornly silent on burning social issues. And yet they have the power to bring about the change we so badly need.
At a time when my faith is vacillating my thoughts go back to a day when i had a terrible head ache and a little boy folded is hands and shut his eyes tight after informing that he was going to ask his Bhagwan (God) to make my ache go away. The headache disappeared as the little boy’s prayer was heard a faceless and nameless God. That is the one I want to believe in today.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 26, 2009 | Uncategorized
The slumdog euphoria is in full swing. Awards and kudos galore and the ensuing media blitz: slums have suddenly become the flavour of the day. Suits me as normally people are reluctant to hear the slum tales I often tell. I guess the hype will continue till Oscar night at least.
There have been a few detractors people who feel offended at the depiction of slum life, or others who want the word dog removed from the title, and yet others who feel that some scenes may whip up communal passion. But all in all slumdgog has been a a runaway success, even in the eyes of those who till now had never deigned to look at slums and its dwellers. Today slums are no longer invisible, they loom larger than life thanks to a story told.
In all interviews and talk shows the slumdog team has been pitching the film as a tale of hope and love. I am sure it is because slums are replete with tales of hope. And of the umpteen questions asked the ones that struck a chord with me was the ones pertaining to what one could simplify in one word: payback! Yes what did all those who won acclaims for the movie intend to do for the slums and their dwellers. And if I may be allowed to stretch the question further what do each one of us who are oohing and aahing about the film intend to do to reach out to them. I would like to believe that miracles would come by but experience compels me to think otherwise. It is true that the slumdog team has pledged substantial help to the Dharavi dwellers, the director even mentioned that children who acted in the film are now in school. Laudable indeed but a drop in the ocean. It needs much more than one film and its team to change things.
I would like to ask why it takes a film and images on a silver screen to shake us out of our deep slumber. Children like the ones you see running across the screen or on posters are everywhere if you are willing to look. But we have become inured to them and have stopped asking questions. I often wonder why the powers that be, the local authorities and civil society itself does not wonder why so many children hang around every red light when they should by law be in school? You do not even have to walk through a slum to see them. I wonder why we are not disturbed by the sight of people living in abysmal conditions like the lohars (gypsy iron smith) who live along roads we travel each day, or little Radha whose house is so tiny that you have to crawl into it. We simply pass by unfazed an unconcerned.
It is OK for us to sit in the audience of a talk show and ask what others are intending to do, but what about some soul searching. It is wonderful to applaud a story where a young slumdog becomes a millionaire but do we realise that it is within us to make this happen for someone in reality. What if I told you that it is within our reach to weave tales of hope and make dreams come true. At this very moment four little children are waiting patiently for someone to make it happen for them. Is anyone listening?
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 26, 2009 | okhla
India celebrates its 6oth Republic Day! All day long there will be ceremonies and parades in different parts of the country. In a remote corner of its capital, on top of a reclaimed garbage dump a bunch of children celebrated Republic Day a day earlier. Two tiny flags on top of a battered speaker marked the occasion. If the props were few the spirit was high. Every child has prepared an item for the occasion.
Little Mithi danced with gay abandon. Her little feet tapping to the beat of the music, a huge smile on her face. There were songs, poems and skits all performed with utmost seriousness and concentration. Yes the little Okhla children celebrated republic day with aplomb! The same happened in other pwhy centres too! I could not be present at all centres and as is often the case lived the moments by proxy courtesy the innumerable photographs taken on the occasion. What was touching is that in each and everyone of them the children were beaming and happy.
These were children of India, protected by the very Constitution that was being commemorated today, the one that was meant to guarantee them a string of rights: justice, liberty, equality words that had scant meaning for these little children. Most of them belonged to extremely poor families, their parents having often fled a flood or a drought or some other calamity to seek greener pastures but sadly found themselves in situations often worse then the one they had left. The pot of gold that they sought remained a chimera.
The children sang and danced oblivious of what awaited them. They were still protected by the innocence of childhood when everything is possible. Tomorrow little Mithi will come to the centre her school bag in tow and will follow her lessons and painstakingly complete all tasks assigned to her. What no one knows is how long it will last: the arrival of a sibling may just put and end to her childhood and her school days. Is this not the plight of many a girl child?
Mithi’s rights are not protected by any Constitution. They simply depend on the vagaries of the reality of her life.
As we celebrate our Republic, my thoughts goes to the millions whose lives hang by a tenuous string in this country that is getting polarised by the minute. As one part of it grows by leaps and bounds to meet a glitzy destiny, the other seems to be sinking with the same rapidity to darker abysses. And yet this is the very one that infuses energy in our lives, the one when hope still lives in the tiny feet of a child dancing, the one where values still rule the day. The one that the world toasts today in a celebrated movie.
If one India is busy debating whether schools should be allowed to increase their already high fees, the other is wondering whether their overcrowded and only school will be sold to build a mall. That is the sad reality of how things as we celebrate yet another Republic Day. I wonder how many more will come and go before all the children in India will the rights enshrined in the very body being honoured today.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 24, 2009 | Uncategorized
In my newly acquired persona of a grandma, I find myself in a strangely contemplative and pensive mood, as if life itself is urging m to stop and take stock of times gone by and muse over those to come. I begin this journey by mooring myself on a real issue we are living now. The story of little Meher who has just come back from her first visit to the kind hearted plastic surgeon who has agreed to change her morrows. The verdict was promising though the road ahead is a long one: a series of surgeries that will repair her maimed hands and scarred face. No matter how long it takes, hopes looms large as it always does.
It all began when Nina a volunteer at pwhy decided to step in and do something for little Meher. The magic words at work were compassion and hope, words that can truly move mountains. Another journey of hope had just begun and I needed once again to start being grateful.
As I sat lost in my thoughts, I realised that the past decade has been a wonderful odyssey of hope, compassion and gratitude. It is true that there have been some choppy seas and harsh moments, but they pale in front of all that has been achieved. And what is truly magical is that each time one is at risk of delving too much on the darker side of things, a new journey begins and infuses one with the optimism and drive that had seemed in peril.
The year began with a sombre note. Many regular donors informed us of their inability to continue their support – recession woes – and we found ourselves wondering how we would survive. Hope, compassion and gratitude seemed rather useless values in the wake of the crisis looming large. But just as we were about to sink into despair, little Meher’s plight lit up the sky and all was forgotten. Hope has once again dispelled all doubts.
It is touching how over the years it is the little individual stories that have kept us going and given us the strength to carry on, be it our little braveheart Utpal, spirited Radha who refuses to give up or our super foster care kids who have broken all conventions and barriers. They show us each day that hope and compassion remain no matter how dark the days or difficult the journey. And as one looks back one cannot help feel grateful.
The road ahead is undoubtedly an arduous and difficult one, but as long as hope, compassion, gratitude and other such trivia are kept alive, you know you will overcome.
