by Anuradha Bakshi | Jun 15, 2008 | Uncategorized
In a tiny room where barely a bed and a small cupboard fit sit Basant and Rekha. They have been living in this ‘free’ dharamshala (hospice) for almost a month now, but this has not been their first stay here. They are now old hands at living in hospitals across the land.
Their story beats any of the tear jerking celluloid tales so popular in the sixties, the only difference is that it is not a story but real life. The quiet acceptance and the sated dignity are not performances that will beget national awards. The love, tenderness and compassion chiseled on Basant’s face is not for the cameras, it is what he truly feels for his blind wife. He does not even remember how long it has been, or how many hospitals in how many cities he has visited to try and rekindle the light in the eyes of his wife. They have now been at AIIMS for the umpteenth month an were held the last blow a few days back: the cost of medicine that may restore some vision to Rekha’s eyes was so prohibitive that they did not even take the name of the pills that come at 45o rs a piece and of which 2 have to be consumed each day for at least 30 days.
There is no anger, no bitterness, no indignation; at best what one feels is a sense of dignified resignation. Many blows have come in the way of this couple but they have accepted each one of them and tried to move on. It was only a few weeks ago that Basant was told that he needed immediate heart surgery at the mind boggling cost of 100 000 rs. More figures that have far beyond the realm of reality for them. A date was fixed: 7 June 2008. It past as they were unable to pay the money.
For this man who once had a small business and enough money to live an honest life, living on charity must be belittling, yet he stand patiently in queue for the daily packet of milk or ration that is doled out. He knows he has no other option.In a few days they will be thrown out of the hospice as no one is allowed to stay for more than 30 days at a time. They have scant options: to go back to the village beaten, or try and find a way out.
I came to know about them a few weeks back and since have been trying to get the help they so need. But we need in a world where charity has taken strange avatars. It is easy to get help for a child, perhaps a woman but when you seek the same for a man, you are just shunned. Yet in the broken heart of this man lie the morrows of four souls: three little children deprived of the presence of their parents and their mom. It is no wonder that Basant’s heart needs mending. For too long it has carried the weight of a love no one understands in our world.
Away from their children they wait patiently for a miracle to come their way, for now only a miracle can save them. They have exhausted all other resources. Maybe it is time we start looking at ours. We cannot or will not give up. We will ask Basant and rekha to move to our women centre and keep on knocking at doors till we find the one that hides another heart as big as Basant’s.
Is the God of Lesser beings listening.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jun 13, 2008 | sustainability
When i first thought of planet why as a sustainability option for project why I had never heard of social enterprise and social business. It was simply a gut feeling that propelled me in this direction and with every step I walked, it just felt right.
From day one, it has been I must admit, an arduous journey. And yet I knew it was one that had to be made as the destination held its own pot of gold.
Two unrelated occurrences came my way a few days back : one was the gift of a book and the other a simple line in an email. The book was by Creating a World without Poverty by Nobel Laureate Mohammed Yunus, and the line in the email came from a young professional riled over the injustice she saw around her. It simply said: the other way to look at this is to assume that economic prosperity once established in a quorum population will ignite a string of social entrepreneurship. but that’s a wait and watch game. Strange synchronicity.
Mohammed Yunus’s views echoes what i have always felt and could not express. The world of philantrophy in which I have been always seemed to fall short of something. It was obvious to me that it could not survive the test of time. Business had always been an alien land where I never felt comfortable. The when you get your maximum, everybody will get their maximum often thrown at you by those holding capitalism at hart, was nothing short of galling. There had to be a via media.
The via media solutions that one saw around us also fell short: state run programmes, NGOs depending on donors to survive let alone grow, CSR initiatives that seemed out of place. The common denominator for all of these was that they espoused a state whereby one group remained a donor and the other a recipient. They all celebrated an unequal world.
Mohammed Yunus’s view tilts the balance in order to establish an equal world by redefining capitalism or let us say by adding a new dimension to the words capitalism. Businesses run with the same efficiency not to line deeper and deeper pockets but to change things and make the world a more even playing field.
The idea of Planet Why stemmed form a real need, that of ensuring pwhy lives on. As it slowly took shape it started looking like what is called a social business. A sound investment option in more ways than one. And though the road is still long and the journey far form over somehow I see light at the end of the tunnel.
So I will end by quoting Mohammed Yunus: Lets get serious about social business entrepreneurs. They can brighten up this gloomy world.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jun 13, 2008 | Uncategorized
We had two special visitors last week. Little Deepak and Shubhum. For those who may not remember or know them they were both residents of our heartFix Hotel.
Deepak is now a big boy, over two years old and a far cry from the cerulean baby we all feared for. Today he is all set to join our creche and take his firs steps into the big world. A lovely spirited child for whom we know, there is no looking back
Our next visitor was young Shubhum who has come to Delhi from his native village in Bihar for his six monthly check up. An endearing child, Shubhum is keen to study and his dream is to become a doctor. His father a humble tea vendor is doing his utmost to give him a good education in the best school available. Shubhum is already in class V. With young Shubhum came his little brother Rohit.
I often wonder what the God of Lesser beings has in mind when he makes his road maps. Rohit who looks like any normal child suffers from microcephaly. A slow learner with delayed milestones, Rohit is also an aggressive child with poor social skills. Rohit will need specialised care, something not available in his native home.
We have decided to support Shubhum’s studies and are now looking for options for little Rohit.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jun 12, 2008 | Uncategorized
To many pwhy is just an education support programme with some forays into community work, a clone of many such organisations that dot the land. I guess it is in some ways quite that, in spite of the many small and big moments we have lived in the past nine years. Yet there is another side of pwhy, one often concealed and veiled and yet one that is as precious.
A heartwarming mail dropped my way this morning. It came from a very special volunteer who had spent a month with us last year. It simply said: The past 2 weeks have been emotionally tolling for me, but somehow Divinity told me to drop by Pwhy blog. True enough, I felt much better after that. At times I ask myself why, till I came across this story yesterday in my friend’s essay:
A little monk liked to complain about everything he does, about life in general. One day, his teacher asked him to go buy some salt. When he returned, the teacher poured half packet of salt into a glass of water. “Drink it”, the teacher commanded. The little monk did, and whined, “Bitter!!” The teacher then brought the monk to a lake, and poured the remaining salt in. “Drink the lake water”, he said. The monk scooped a cup of the lake water, drank it and, with a big grin, exclaimed, “Refreshing!!” Morale of the story? The amount of pain we have in life is the same, just like the salt. Whether we taste it, depends on how large the container – our heart – is.
I guess this is why Project Why always makes a difference. It opens up my heart and lets me realize there is no point in fixing my eyes on the “small” persona.
I read the words many times. They brought a sense of fulfillment laced with a tinge of sadness. In the last nine years I have seen pwhy change not only the lives of the target beneficiaries, but surreptitiously transform the lives of many young people who come from the four corners of the world to spend some time with us. If each volunteer who has come by has left a little of his or her self, they have also taken with them a little of pwhy. Some keep in touch regularly, others time and again. But each in his or her way have shared the fact that the days spent as made a tangible change in their lives. The sadness I mentioned earlier is that most of the young souls have been from other lands or live there. I have not been able to stir the same feelings in those who live round the corner.
I however still believe in miracles, and hope that one day they too will learn to look with their hearts.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jun 12, 2008 | two indias
When I read your blogs most often the word that used to strike me was “angry”; how angry you were about the system, situation and people. for the first time i think i experienced that were the words that dropped into my inbox yesterday. It was from M, a dear friend and supporter who lives thousands of miles away and who has become a confident and close ally. Perhaps it is because we share the same dreams, however impossible they may seem, notwithstanding our age difference or the fact that we live in two different worlds. Perhaps again it is because we both at some times of our lives learnt the fox’s precious lessons and look with our hearts!
She often reads my blogs and gives her views, or we exchange emails on issues that disturb us and often realise that our views or similar. However this is the first time she reacted vehemently and shared what many feel is my anger. M was referring to an article that appeared in the New York Times and depicted life in one of the upcoming and fashionable suburbs of our metropolis. It portrayed in graphic details the life of the two Indias hat live side by side but not in symbiosis. Swanky flats adjacent to crowded slums were residents of both interacted for some hours of the day as one bought comfort and ease to the other. What had riled M was the apparently innocuous and yet portent remark of one of the residents, a Doctor by training, who confesses having thought about opening a clinic in the nearby slums but feels that there is little she or anyone else could do.
M cannot not understand how one could simply waste an education, or put in other words how people lose their conscience somewhere along the way. Or to put it yet again in other words: how one could remain insensitive to the reality that was so obviously there to see.
There are no easy answers. A comment on a recent blog I wrote sent a chill down my spine. To my now almost legendary ranting and ravings about a disquieting issue, the commentator proffered the following: Yes times are changing…… its the beginning of the end.
I hope you don’t harbour any misconception that this civilisation can be changed for the better. We are too conditioned for that. Civilisation began in places like India and here will (or already) it die first. This is not a judgement but an observation. The evolution is merciless and creates the new on the death of the old. Pray for strength to see through the tough and tougher times to come. There is no point in reacting. Lets learn to mute witness to the process of life.
My answer is simple: sorry I do harbour hope that things can change for the better. No bigger example than a warm day in march 2003 as held a death sentence in my hand and yet also saw life. Today Utpal lives for all to see! I am not conditioned and cannot be a mute witness. It would be an insult to my very existence.
Yet one wonders if this is easy way out one could adopt to whitewash every and anything that seems to be out of sync. Like the proverbial karma that is thrown at you each time you try and solve an issue, suggest an alternative or simply do some good an thus threaten to rock the boat.
Too many today hide behimnd the cloak of fatalism and yet each time I am comfronted with a situation like this one, my determination to carry on no matter what takes a quantum leap. It seems that we have walked the passive acceptance route for so long that we have along the way lost our conscience, our sensitivity and our ability to look with our hearts hence defeating the very essence of the karmic view of life. It is easy to wave another person’s karma for all to see, but what about our own. Is it not time to turn the mirror towards ourselves?
Sinking into comfort zones or burying our heads in the sand is not a solution we can be proud of. Change or the much heralded transformation of society can only come when we assume responsibility of what surrounds us and take a step, no matter how tiny towards setting things right.
We cannot wait for Godot. He is there in each one of us, it is for us to find him.
I will end this post with M’s words as they reflect the deep seated anguish of a young Indian: how do we as a society inspire such people to stop squandering their education? i understand that everyone has the right to whatever education they want and to respect their choice on what they do with that education. but are we really a billion people with no concept of “pay back” to our society? what sort of upbringing are we giving our children when we aspire them to complete school, get degrees when we can’t teach them the value of a shared community that benefits from everyone helping out? the other way to look at this is to assume that economic prosperity once established in a quorum population will ignite a string of social entrepreneurship. but that’s a wait and watch game.
It is time to act!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jun 10, 2008 | Uncategorized
The spiralling and sky rocketing price of petrol in the past few weeks has finally, or so one hopes, brought to fore the need to pause and think about the necessity to change our ways. Till now the pleas of environmentalists fell on deaf years. At best we nodded agreement to all that was said/written/seen while we fans or ACs ran in empty rooms in our own homes.
Words life carbon footprint and emissions made good erudite conversation points, the news of glaciers melting brought the right expression of concern, but nothing got translated into action. It was always felt that others were responsible for all the horrors that befell our planet, our contribution to its slow destruction being oh so negligible: what difference could we make.
Even we at pwhy stand guilty of this as we let our awareness and environment programmes wither away. Somehow it found no takers, or perhaps were we not committed enough. Our only true contribution I guess is our use of green fuelled vehicles , a decision taken I must confess not for environmental reasons but practical and humane ones: the three wheelers have better access in slum areas and are owned by parents. I guess one has also time and again made the politically correct noise but how far have the words been translated into action. Not far at all I must admit. True we have solar energy at our women centre but here again it was a gift from a friend.
Our forays into saving the environment have been too far and few. It is so easy to slip back into comfort zones.
The recent petrol hike has shaken everyone out of ts torpor as it now hits where it hurts most: our pockets. Even the powers that be are talking about reducing carbon footprint: cancelling foreign jaunts and looking at alternative means of transport is the latest mantra being chanted in political circles. Recently a foreign visitor wondered whether the metro when it is completed would change things; his question was simple: would people like you and me adopt it as an alternative means of transport leaving our cars behind. Sadly the answer is in the negative. While we are willing to take metros and tubes on our foreign holidays, I wonder how many of us will take the metro to work or to visit a relative on a weekend. One can here again quote Don Ritter “Trying to save ecosystems has more to do with changing egosystems.” It is all a matter of egosystems and unless we change those nothing will really change.
People are finally seeing their dreams come true: the new Bentley or gleaming bike have just come their way so how can you ask them to park them and take a walk and a metro ride. It would be anathema. Will the new petrol price make a difference? I wonder.
Every price hike is finally taken in one’s stride. Smokers still smoke, and Bentleys and Mercedes still drive around. So one wonders what will truly shake us out of our inertia ad compel us to change? I again wonder.
The recent rains are once again a proof of our blinkered view of life. We urban animals and city dwellers are celebrating the cool clime totally oblivious to the fact that this freak weather may delay the monsoons and hence affect the crops.
Are the times really changing….
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jun 8, 2008 | Uncategorized
Once upon a time, not so long ago, an afternoon at the cinema was a treat almost anyone could afford. For less than a hundred rupees two persons could see an afternoon flick and even eat a greasy burger or share a fizzy drink. Cinema was for the masses. Halls were huge and catered to large numbers. The number of movies produced were in accordance with the need of such large audiences. Box office was defined by the number of viewers as well as the number of times one saw the same film. Catching a first day first show was almost a ritual. Cinema was for everyone. It was one of the platform where the two Indias met on almost level field.
Was it too good to be true or did the Gods get jealous? Or was it once again the lure of what lay beyond seven seas or just market forces at play? Who knows. But came the day when the playing ground was redefined and the first multiplex appeared. A new invisible wall was surreptitiously erected. Suddenly what was once open to all, became inaccessible to some. A simple movie ticket was out of reach.
I have never been a movie goer and was quite unaware of the change. Slowly many of the cinema halls that dotted our area started closing for renovation, a renovation that rung the death knell of an era. Yesterday I decided to give a treat to Utpal, Kiran, Chanda and Radhey. The idea was to send them all to the movies, or rather should I say to the multiplex. Two adults and two children. I did not quite know how much money to give them. I handed them 1000 Rs thinking that they would also be able to buy themselves some lunch. I was horrified to learn that almost 800 rs were spent on the tickets alone and the remaining 200 barely got one cold drink and a bag of pop corn. You see in today’s new environment only branded eateries can operate in the swank halls. Gone are the days when you could grab your greasy burger or patty. And of course UtpalKiran being above 5 were treated as adults! And multiplexes have only one rate, even if you are placed in the front row. A great leveller but sadly in the wrong side of the spectrum.
Movies, at least in big cities, are no more for the poor. What was once entertainment for the masses and provided a few hours of much needed escape to many, was now the preserve of a few. You could not more plan a Sunday afternoon family outing. It would cost you a month’s wages. This is today’s reality. The times are indeed changing…
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jun 7, 2008 | Uncategorized
The picture you see may, at first glance, seem innocuous and anodyne. A bunch of smiling young ones chaperoned by an also smiling older one. True that they seem to come from different lands but in today’s shrinking world this is no big deal!
This is what it looks like and no offence to anyone thinking just that. However this snapshot tells an incredible tale. It begins with the meeting of four young persons belonging to different worlds. Janaki is a pwhy alumni, and one we are terribly proud of. She came to us some years back, a spirited bright girl with an insatiable desire to learn. Not only was she a keen student but also one that never shied of anything that came her way. Meeting new people from unknown worlds, participating in any activity proposed, spending more time than necessary at pwhy in the hope of acquiring that little bit more. She completed her class XII last year by obtaining a 11th position in the whole of Delhi. Today she is in college doing not one but two courses.
Willy, Gordon and Lilly are but a few year older than Janaki. They come from the land that conjures success in measures larger than life. When Willy was just about Janaki’s age, an age when kids have glitzy dreams and boundless aspirations, he came to India to volunteer in a school and took a first step in a world that would change lives forever. Deeply moved by the plight of children of a Lesser God, he with some freinds decided to do something. And boy they did. At an age when you are barely considered an adult, they set up a foundation to help organisations engaged in developmental work. And in the span of a few summers thousands of children from the four corners of the world were touched by the magic of these incredible kids.
We at pwhy were privileged to receive an email from them last summer and from that day onwards there was no turning back. They simply walked into our hearts. For almost a year we exchanged mails and were overwhelmed by the unstinted trust and support we got. It was a rare privilege.
A few days back they flew into Delhi and we finally met. But somehow we felt we had known each other for an eternity. Though we knew they were one of a kind, we were overwhelmed by their warmth and kindness. And as we discovered each other, we realised that they were exceptional human beings. It was a meeting of spirits where neither age, nor culture, nor social origin, nor any of the things that normally qualify and often divide human beings mattered. We all spoke the same language.
It is a times like these that I allow myself a few stolen moments to pat myself in the back. As I have often said, pwhy is my swan song and also my magnum opus. I know that it is my last chance to do something I can be proud of. And though I live by stringent canons, moments like the one frozen in this tame picture make my heart swell with pride, till I quickly move on to simply being grateful.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jun 4, 2008 | Uncategorized
There is little one can say in praise of the education imparted by the majority of state run schools. The least said the better. At best it amounts to getting a low pass percentage in your end exams. More often than not it leads to the child dropping out of school at some point with a rudimentary knowledge of the 3 Rs.
Every child, or let us say a huge majority are born with equal potential. This potential is waiting to be realised and that is what education is meant to do. Education is not just mastering lessons contained in text books. It is above all honing the ability of each and every mind to imbibe and interpret these very lessons and then to apply them in day-to-day activities. Interpreting anything requires many skills and above all our ability to be creative.
Creativity, imagination, innovation, vision are what make individuals winners. These abilities exist in every child’s mind. The best proof is the vast repertoire of pretend play that most children display. The ability to turn the most innocuous object into a wondrous one, the skill to engage in monologues or invent an invisible friend are all things that any child does with ease. The confidence to paint an elephant pink and a sky green is also present in every child till the day an adult exclaims in horror: an elephant is never pink, and the sky never green!
These are the first death knells of a budding creative mind. And as time goes on elephants are never pink again and the sky aways blue. Most kids unfortunately cannot retort by saying: my elephant is pink…And as time passes, every burst of creativity is often met with a I guess well meant never, till all skies turn blue even on a grey day.
many years back, when pwhy was still in its infancy, we held a drawing competition. There were children of all ages. We were stunned to see that all school going kids had produced the same painting: mountains, a rising/setting sun, a river, a house, trees. True there were variations on the theme: bolder colours, more confident strokes or an added flower or fish. But the basic scenery was the same. It was the one taught in all schools during what went by the name of an art class.
Yesterday we held another painting workshop on the theme: mother and child. The artists were in all in their teens. We fell of our chairs when we saw the results: we had many mountains/sun/river and only one child drew what could have passed for a mother and child, though the mom looked like something out of a fashion magazine or Bollywood pot boiler. Perhaps the child wanted her mom to look like that. At first everyone was rightly appalled as these drawings were needed for a show, but the initial displeasure was soon replaced by immense sadness as it was not fault of these kids: their creativity had been sacrificed the alter of what goes for education.
It was almost a reflex reaction worthy of Pavlov: drawing = mountain/sun/river. Even coaxing did not get us anywhere. Many kids simply stated their inability to draw from imagination. At best they said they could copy someone else’s drawing. A deal was struck. They would bring pictures of their moms and try again.
Our education system does stamp out creativity. I remember an incident when my own child was in class I and was to write an essay titled: My mother. Being a bright kid who had been taught to think for herself, she wrote about her mom: short hair, working woman et al. To her and my dismay she got an F. The reason being that all children had been given a set essay. Now the set essay talked of a woman with long hair, draped in a sari and cooking while the father went to work. That was not what my child’s mom looked like. I must confess that my furious barging into the Principal’s office was not well taken. And i must further confess that I was unable to get the school to accept my view. I had to deal with my kid and tell her that she had to comply with what teacher said. She was perplexed. Wonder what must have gone through her mind.
She gave it back to me a wile later in her own way. When she was learning the colour of the rainbow she diligently learnt the spelling of violet as v-o-i-l-e-t. When i tried to correct her, she said that was what teacher had written on the board.
Excuse this diversion. The point that one is trying to make is that education as it is imparted to a large number of children across India is one where imagination, creativity and other expressions of individuality are stifled. And whereas in ‘educated’ homes such skills and abilities are kept alive in some form or the other, in children of illiterate parents they simply die. One may argue that these talents are not needed to lead a successful life. I beg to differ. It is these very qualities that allow us to deal with life’s most demanding moments. It is these that help us solves crises, handle tricky situations and lead healthy lives. Lack or absence of imagination or vision deprives us of humour and the ability to laugh at situations and thus deflate them. It enables us to find appropriate solutions and deflect possible trouble. They are an integral part of any self respecting learning system. And they are kept alive in pink elephants and green skies.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jun 2, 2008 | sustainability
I have often wondered why pwhy came to be. A rather pointless question many may say as we are now in the 10th year of existence! And yet it is one that comes to my mind many times, always begging for an answer and never quite finding one.
The most obvious answer would of course be to reiterate our mission – arresting drop outs and keeping children in school – an on that account we have done pretty well. But there are innumerable organisations doing just that, and maybe better than of us. And does this explain the very organic manner of our growth, where we seem to take on new responsibilities at the drop of a hat, some a far cry from our stated mission!
Little Prakash once again makes me ask that question. A few months back we were content to see him play and laugh and thought that the story ended there. He was attending our creche and seemed happy. But then a few weeks back we realised that he was losing weight and suddenly he started looking more and more like his sibling. We took him to our doctor and were startled to find out that he be having hydrocephalus. A condition for which there is no cure and where the treatment is complex, expensive and delicate. It requires placing a shunt that needs life long monitoring. Something that a family like Prakash’s can ill afford. And yet untreated it can cause severe retardation and be life threatening.
The past few weeks has been a heady mix of events some thrilling, some just satisfying and some worrisome. The Board results came and went and the 100% result was accepted with a sense of deja vu, our eyes searching for toppers and we were rewarded as it is pwhy kids who topped their respective schools in both classes X and XII. Our land was paid for and though we still have loans to pay back and a whopping amount of money to raise for building planer why, we did feel a step closer to the day when we would be self sustainable. Those were the macro issues, the ones that seem in sync with all our mission statements and vision paper.
However the last few weeks were also replete with micro issues, those that concern individuals of no consequence, souls that no one would ever know exist: a 24 year old widowed mom who is attacked by a vicious disease; a 11 year old post heart surgery girl with a rare ailment, a father in need of help. And yet these almost invisible people did drop our way, almost as if guided by an unseen hand.
It is true that along the way, while we diligently applied ourselves to meeting our goals, mission and objectives, we were faced with many disturbing issues that needed to be addressed. Somehow it seemed impossible to brush them aside with a simple: we are an education based organisation. We simply accepted them and found the best solution we could, hence losing our carefully elaborated mission statements, vision papers and more of the same. To the outside eye we started looking more and more like a haphazard entity that never quite finds the words to describe itself.
We were never disturbed by this. On the contrary we found it to be the natural and obvious way to go happily adding on more whys to the already existing ones! Anything else would have been
unacceptable. And slowly we became who we are bringing to mind Frederic Nietzsche’s words: he who as a why to live can bear almost any how.
So to the question why did pwhy copme to be, the answer is simple: to bear the hows that came its way!
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 30, 2008 | fostercare, sustainability
“A person taking stock in middle age is like an artist or composer looking at an unfinished work; but whereas the composer and the painter can erase some of their past efforts, we cannot. We are stuck with what we have lived through. The trick is to finish it with a sense of design and a flourish rather than to patch up the holes or merely to add new patches to it” wrote Harry S. Broudy. These words came to mind as I sat this morning browsing the pwhy pictures taken last week.
Had someone suggested a few months back that one would soon be seeing Manu around a table sharing a meal with his pals in a proper home, I would have smiled and told the person to stop dreaming, reminding him or her gently that dreams took time to become reality. It would have been akin to fast forwarding a film to reach the end without living through the story. And yet the picture you see is no trick photography, it is reality, one anyone can share each and every day. The foster care was not even an idea in our minds, at best it was a distant and impossible dream.
For the last week or even more I have been avoiding the much needed task of setting out to seek help for pwhy. Strange as I thought I had overcome my almost innate reluctance to ask for money and should and could have picked my virtual begging bowl without fuss, any time needed. But I guess inborn feelings stay longer than one thinks.
But what needs to be done, has to be done. I knew time was of the essence and the task I had to be undertaken. And in order to do so, it was time to take stock of the past. In Broudy’s words I knew that nothing could be erased or painted over and that the work had to be finished with flourish and honesty.
So here I am again seeking support to see pwhy through. Have we reached the middle of the road? I think we have. Much of we set out to do when we began had been achieved in ample measure. The class X results declared yesterday reinforce the point. All the children passed and in in both class X and XII it is a pwhy student that topped his school. Many had made the journey from street to home and many other achievements big and small dot our firmament. We have met every challenge that came our way and have done our best in finding the right solutions. The sustainability issue that had for long been our Achilles heel, has now been addressed as we have bought the land needed for planet why. There is no looking back!
However as I write these words we are in a tricky situation: that of having to raise funds both for the building and the day-to-day running of the project. And our needs have grown as many new whys dropped our way and could not be cast aside as that would have been defeating the very spirit of project why.
We do manage to raise a substantial part of our needs but still fall short. Perhaps the reason for this stems from what I will call the soul of project why. For almost a decade pwhy has been able to survive and thrive because it is infused with goodwill, one that has come from the innumerable kind souls who have answered each and every call for help. Were it to be fuelled by impersonal sources – no matter how regular and steadfast – alone, it would cease to be.
To many this may sound preposterous and even old-fashioned in a world where success is measured by the weight of bank accounts and the size of buildings. But for me that is not so. The mere fact that we have been able to grow and thrive is the direct result the immense love that we have received from people the world over, many of whom we have never seen. Our success is the outcome of the trust and belief that had come with each coin dropped in my begging bowl. We have reached where we are because pwhy has never afforded itself the luxury of sinking into comfort zones that would rob us of our very individuality and make us pallid clones of others. It is but natural and essential that we fall short, as this is what will enable us to always remain who we are. Ours is a work where patches and holes are banished, and each corner of the painting or note of the symphony is part of the whole.
On a personal level it is also essential that I retain the ability to beg humbly and shed any misplaced arrogance no matter how innate it be. Only then will the intangible and indescribable riches that are vital to the very existence of pwhy continue coming our way
It is now time to finish the story with flourish, one that cannot end without the presence of each one of you.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 29, 2008 | fostercare
This is a picture of Neha and Aditya taken almost three years back in happier times. Since a lot of water has flowed under the bridge. In those times questions were simple and solutions easy. Even mummy learnt to smile as she picked up the pieces of her broken life and wove them bravely into a new one.
Barely a few back just was working and had gladly accepted that Aditya become part of our foster care programme as she knew that this would give him a better future. Everything seemed almost picture perfect as we sat content in what we thought was a befitting conclusion of a journey started many months ago. We had conveniently forgotten about the big picture being busy putting final touches one the tiny one we could see.
Neha had been complaining of back aches, one that even compelled to take a break from the gruelling hours she put in at the beauty parlour where we worked. We advised her to se a doctor and take some rest. Nothing could have prepared us for what was to ensue.
One morning Neha came by asking for help as she had been asked to have an MRI and did not have the money to so. In spite of her smile, we could see the pain and knew that something was wrong. When the results came we were shocked. Neha had advanced tuberculosis of the spine and many of her vertebrae had collapsed. The diagnosis was confirmed by a bone specialist. it was a miracle that Neha was still walking. She needed immediate immobilisation and even then the prognosis was terrible: risk of paralysis, permanent damage to the back and poor chances of recovery, septicemia from the risk of any of her abscesses bursting .
She was advised complete bed rest for at least 3 months as any movement could entail paraplegia. Neha has no one; even her mother has walked away from her life. Her only family is 5 year old Aditya. She needs to get back on her feet; anything short of that is a death knell.
As I write these words she lies in terrible pain in a room at our foster care. In a few days she will be moved to a room on the ground floor of the dame building. A day time nurse will look after her and at night a distant relative will take care of her. Neha weighs a paltry 32 kilos. The ordeal that awaits her is terrible and she knows it.
I have often prayed for miracles but am at a loss as I do not know what to pray for. Even the best case scenario is short of what Neha needs. A deformed back or life in a wheel chair is no life at all for this young single mom. What we need is a real miracle, the kind that is not fabricated by us humans but one that only He can make true.
A miracle for a little boy who plays and learns unaware of the reality that may become his!
So help me God!
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 29, 2008 | Uncategorized
One day Popples you will meet mrOcean. Many of your friends live close to it and many have promised that they will take you there one day…
These words were written almost 2 years ago and are now there for all to read as in dear popples. I must confess a little sheepishly that I had then hoped that I would be the one to make the introductions. But that was not part of the larger picture. Mr P met mrOcean last week when he was in Mumbai spending a few days with his new. friends: Abhigyan, Mrinal and Vedika. I wonder what went into his little mind when he saw so much water. I guess we will never know. All I know is that they will be tucked away in his little mind to be recalled at the right moment, when he is in need of reassuring himself.
Utpal has had an ace holiday in Mumbai. One replete with memories of things he never knew existed: a flat on the 22md floor, a shower cubicle, swimming in a pool with goggles, the feel of a real family with a father, mother and grandparents, a train ride over. And to crown a trip in a plane, like the ones he sees flying over his school every day. And of course the huge helicopter balloon he had to give up to enter the plane and that the misses terribly.
I know he was a handful to his impeccable and kind hosts but what a holiday it was. The kind he could not have ever conjured even in his wildest dreams. Here are some stolen moments:
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 27, 2008 | Uncategorized
I would have never believed that one day I would be seeking help to fund the surgery of a man! Most of the hearts we have fixed are those of children, barring Nutan who was a mom and her children’s life depended of her survival. She was taken care of and is now back in her village.
Rekha was a young spirited girl when she got married to Basant a kind hearted man. Life was going on well. A few months later she suffered a terrible fever. She survived but the drugs given to her were too strong and led to her losing her sight and hearing. For some months the family took her to a bigger town and yet another. But to no avail. Everyone told them that her eye sight was gone forever though perhaps something could be done for her hearing.
Basant’s family then tried to convince him to send her back and find another bride. But this man was made of another mettle. He stood his ground and told them that she was his wife for the better or the worse and that he would stand by her till the end. The young couple set home and in years to come three children were born. Basant tended to Rekha with affection and tenderness. He looked after her and helped her in all chores, even those considered infradig by his peers. Whenever he could he use to try and seek specialists and even took her to Bangalore in the hope of restoring her sight. Their meagre savings dwindled fast.
A few months back he had brought her to the All India Institute of Medical Sciences as he had been told of a possible next procedure that may restore her sight. One morning he got up with excruciating pain in the chest. he was diagnosed with a heart condition and was told that he may need open heart surgery. An angioplasty was performed and a stent was inserted in the hope that things would settle. But things did not work out and the pain came back. He needed open heart surgery.
The cost was prohibitive: 100 000 rs!
I would have never thought that I would be the one appealing for help for basant. there are many reasons for this. One is that he is the sole support of Rekha and her three children. Were anything to happen to him, she would suffer a fate worse than the darknes she lives in and her children’s future would be jeopardized. But that is not the only basis for my appeal. There is a much deeper one.
Basant is the kind of man one does not see in India, particularly in Bihar where he hails from. No man stands up for his wife, more so a blind one. And to do so with compassion, love and tenderness is unwonted. Were anything to happen to him, Rekha would be derided and shunned as a harbinger of bad times. There is much more at stake than just a life.
I hope we will find the support we need.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 27, 2008 | fostercare
The project why journey has been astounding in more ways than one. At every step, miracles big and small have dotted its path with regularity making one believe that the big picture theory really exists.
When we began the foster care programme, there was a huge debate about how to select the handful of kids that would launch the programme: social profile, performance, home situation.. The options were many. Finally four children were selected. Aditya and Babli being two of them. At that time none of us was aware of the real reason.
A few days back Aditya’s young mother came by our office. We could see the pain written on her face in spite of the smile she bravely put on. We had known that she had left her job as she had been complaining of back ache but nothing prepared us for what was to come. She wanted help to get the expensive CT scan her doctor had asked for. The scan was done and to our utmost dismay she was diagnosed with advanced Pott’s disease or what is knows as bone TB. Many of her vertebrae had collapsed and huge abscesses dotted her spine. The prognosis was not good: she could suffer paraplegia and septicemia.
Aditya’s mom had no support system as after her husband’s death she cut off her links with her own family. She had decided to bring up her child alone and after training as a beautician was working in a parlour earning enough to survive. Two months of sick leave had depleted her of her meagre savings. And to crown it all, her landlord had asked her to vacate the tiny room that was her home.
Aditya’s mom is at the foster care for a few nights. We will take her to hospital and start her treatment. Will she be saved is another part of the big picture cannot see. We will do our best and hope that things go well. We do not even want to think about what could have happened had things not fallen in place. We only know Aditya is safe and his mom in good hands.
When we invested in Babli’s tiny heart, we thought that like in all other cases she would thrive and grow after her surgery and fulfill all the dreams that she had conjured in her head. The script went awry many times and each time, we intervened in the best manner possible, or so we thought. On the way, we did wonder why, unlike other children, Babli was not growing, but felt that it was due to poor nutrition and care.
When we were about to launch our foster care programme, someone suggested Babli as one of the inmates. In spite of her advanced age, we all agreed that it would be a great idea, as the child was intelligent and would benefit from such a programme. A few days after her joining our housemother shared her concern about Babli’s constant bed wetting. Yesterday she was taken to the doctor and diagnosed with hypo parathyroid, a rare condition stunts growth and depletes the body of its calcium retention of the body. It can be treated and reversed with proper life long medication. Babli is now having all tests and investigations required and should soon be on the way to recovery and to leading a normal life.
When we selected Babli and Aditya we were totally unaware of the real reasons that had guided these two children our way. Today we know…
Wondrous are His ways…
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 26, 2008 | fostercare
A few days back we got the visit of the representative of a very up market page 3 organisation. This organisation funds various NGOs by organising high profile fund raising events. As we sat chatting in our new foster care building, the lady told me about a new venture of theirs whereby they are sponsoring school fees in up market schools for a handful of very underprivileged children. Actually what she was trying to convey indirectly was her disapproval of the amounts we were spending on the foster care residential programme.
While we were chatting, our children sat quietly finishing their lunch.
I tried to the best of my ability and with as much fervour and passion I could muster to explain to her that a child from a deprived or dysfunctional poor background would never be able to fit and be accepted in an up market English medium school. He or she would feel lost and would not be able to keep up what is required of him or her. Moreover ‘home’ or what goes by the name would not be able to provide him or her the support needed.
My mind went back to a blog where I had shared my feelings about the reactions of people to our foster care programme when it was being launched. Today it is in its third month and though there have been many teething problems, we have never felt that our decision was wrong.
I would not have written this post were it not for a totally unrelated incident. Utpal is in Mumbai spending a few days with Abhigyan and his family. The first few emails were positive ones and then came one where I could feel that Popples was being difficult: tantrums and demands bordering bad behaviour. I must confess that at first I was upset and went into denial and then apologetic mode as any doting parent would. Much later when the heat and embarrassment of the moment has passed, I realised that it had been naive on my part to expect that Utpal would behave like a perfect child in an environment totally new to him. That he accepted to stay in an unknown home without batting an eyelid and with comfort and ease, is in itself huge. He is only 6 and he has had a lot to deal with in the 2000 odd days of his life.
But that does not condone bad behaviour one would we tempted to say, or does it… The urge to balance out his misfortune is not easy to put it in Abhigyan’s words. I cannot but agree. But let us take our thoughts a step further. Till date Utpal was never seen, let alone spent time in what you and I call a family: a papa, a mummy, siblings, maybe grandparents. He has never known a structured home. The only structure he has experienced is that of a boarding school. He has no role models, no examples to emulate, no mentor to walk him through such moments. He survives by instinct and the closest he has been to a home is probably mine, where he knows he gets what he wants courtesy his ever indulging Maam’ji!
We, and here I talk about all those who think they are a cut above the rest being engaged in doing some form of social work or the other and who would like to believe that lives can be transformed by doling out the needed amount of money to pay fees, books and more of the same, have to take a moment to pause and think. If that were so, how easy it would be alter destinies. But the reality is quite different. Education is not just imparted in schools however good they are. Nurturing and building lives start in homes and with parents or guardians. It takes time, patience and above all the will to truly want to do so.
When the idea of what is today our foster care programme was first mooted by a potential donor as part of what we call planet why, these are the words he chose to use: A residential foster care programme for a maximum of 20 bright children where children from deprived backgrounds will be given an enabling and nurturing environment to be able to excel in education and access to employment possibilities. The children ( a maximum of 20) will be kept at planet why for an incubating period of 4 to 5 years and then be sent to boarding school. Emphasis will be on creating an environment close to those found in educated homes, with stress on English and building self-confidence. At that point of time I must admit I was not in a great bargaining position but the immediate reaction that many of us had was that this was far too ambitious if not impossible and that the way it was spelt out reeked of social engineering.
However the die had been cast and even though the initiator of the idea backtracked at a later stage we were left holding the proverbial baby and there was no retracting. The only battle I had won was to begin with a trial with a maximum of 4 to 6 kids. The task was daunting albeit exciting and just the possibility of being able to perhaps change a handful of lives could not be set aside. However one must stress that right from the word go, we knew intuitively and logically that if this was to succeed, we had to keep the kids in residential care at least for part of the week.
Education as I have said time and again is not just imparting the 3 Rs; it goes much further and has to cover life skills. Something that tends to be forgotten. I recall with a smile one of the brainstorming sessions we had early this year about where the foster kids would spend their summer holidays. Our erstwhile donor had suggested that they be sent to homes like yours and mine and wondered if there would people who would accept them. A no comments on this one barring from saying that this person lives outside India and is not aware of the reality that surrounds us.
We will find a solution for Popples, and our fostercare kids are learning to unlearn before they begin learning again.
Life goes on as always.
To quote john Donne: “All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated…As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon, calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come: so this bell calls us all: but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness….No man is an island, entire of itself…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 23, 2008 | Uncategorized
The class XII results are out and once again all the pwhy kids have cleared the dreaded Boards! This is now the nth time in a row! There was a time when I remember spending a sleepless night before result day and pacing up and down till I was given the news. In those days results were not on line and one had to wait for the teacher to come back from the school where they were posted.
This year Naresh our secondary teacher just came to the office with his list of roll numbers and a few taps on the keyboard and we knew that all the kids had once again passed. No sleepless night, no angst. Just a feel of deja vu!
Naresh sat with paper and pencil computing the marks to get the percentages, a number essential to chart out the future. Gone were the days that a simple pass was enough for jubilation. Now it all depended on that extra half percent that could make all the difference. As I watched his serious face bent upon his sheet of paper I realised that all this could not have been possible without him. It is Naresh who has almost single handed, year after year, with rare dedication bordering on obsession ensured that pwhy kids have cleared their Boards!
The words of the title song from the movie To Sir with Love came to my mind: But how do you thank someone, who has taken you from crayons to perfume?It isn’t easy, but I’ll try. Every year we congratulate the kids, eat the sweets proffered and organise an outing. But this year kudos need to go where they are due: to sir, with love!
In the winter of 2001, when a deriding remark from a school Principal about the impossibility of a bunch of class X students to clear their Boards had led me to throw the gauntlet and accept the challenge of ensuring their success. That year we simply had a small spoken English class and helped a few primary kids with their studies on an ad-hoc basis. The bunch of boys were students of the spoken English class and the reason for my trip to the school was to find out why one of them had been beaten without apparent reason.
The next day the boys came, huge smiles on their faces and hope in their eyes. We had no classroom, no teacher, no funds. But what we had was the determination to win the challenge. At that time Naresh had just finished his college and was looking for work. I had hear that he use to give tuition to school kids. I asked him if he would help us and he accepted. Classes were held the pavement in front of our single class room, in the biting cold at 7.30 am with many cups of tea! That was how our senior secondary section began.
Naresh is a born teacher and teaches with compassion and unseen commitment. For him it is matter of pride to see his students do well even if that means extra classes early morning or late evenings and even on Sundays. He handles his section almost single handed as no teacher ever meets his expectations. And his students are infused with the same passion, as they often come well before time and wait for him with eagerness. Naresh has turned many failures into toppers and is always there for his students as a teacher, mentor and above all a friend. That is what teachers should be.
So today it is to Naresh that I say: hats off or chapeau bas!
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 23, 2008 | Uncategorized
This blog is not meat to be a personal one, nor is it meant to be one for reminiscing the past or delving in nostalgia. Yet today I beg your indulgence as I take a brief pause to remember Ram and Kamala on this day that would have celebrated 59 years of their union.
This blog is meant to share the project why story, but would there have been a pwhy, if Ram and Kamala had not walked this planet. I wonder.
The loss of a parent is always difficult to come to terms with. It digs a deep bottomless pit in your heart and soul, one that is impossible to fill, even with time. A word heard out of context, the whiff of an aroma, the chirping of a particular bird, the sight of an innocuous image are sufficient to trigger a Proustian reaction that is ample to bring back every single memory you had laid to rest.
Yet today it is not with sadness that I remember them, but with a sense of peace and fulfillment. The huge void they had left was not only filled but is now almost overflowing. It has been filled with the smiles of every child at pwhy, with the hearts repaired, with the report cards held out with pride every year, the big and small achievements of children of a lesser God: the first drawing made by one who could not hold a pencil, the first word babbled by one that could not speak, the first step taken by one who was never meant to walk. And they live on in each and every moment of pwhy’s life.
Ram and Kamala gave me the most beautiful gift: that of life itself, and then went on to colour it with muted lessons of hope and courage. I just hope I have been worthy of what they taught me subtly and without fuss.
Pwhy could not have been without them as it is in many ways a reflection of who they were: a spartan erudite humanist and a woman of well beyond her times who wanted to change things and led by example; a reflection reinterpreted by the one who loved them unconditionally.
Today I simply remember them!
