Yesterday was Uptal’s 6th birthday. He is at the women centre and his mom planned a special party. It was on this very day, five years ago that Utpal had his tryst with fire, one that undoubtedly changed his life in more ways than one. His tiny life has not been an easy one. It has been packed with many hurdle, but he has always come out a winner.
For the past two years, Utpal has been in boarding school and lived a normal life, the kind little boys do. No drunken brawls, no night visits to the cop station, no strange men, no hunger pangs. And like little boys he now has his tantrums and his moods, his likes and dislikes: you see he does not have to be the man of the house any more, he can just be a kid. And that is exactly what is it now and one cannot grudge him his new found zeal as he has lot of lost time to make up for.
So we too decided to give him a fun birthday party with presents, cake, his favourite food, and the people who had been with part of his life for the past 5 years: his best friend Kiran, Radhey his old pal, Rani didi and Shamika didi, Dharmendra bhaiya and his mum, one that he loves in his own special way and of course maam’ji! There were some new friends too and we had all a great time.
I am sure that each one of us did take a trip down memory lane, each remembering that one special moment that remains engraved in our mind. I found myself recollecting a plethora of touching times, each one imbued with its own sense of wonder but the one that will always remain engraved in mind is my first real meeting with this incredible kid, the moment he walked into my heart.
The past few years have been replete with Popples moments, each one endearing and touching and even if he may sometimes seem spoilt and even exasperating, just look deep into his eyes you may just see an Angel passing.
Is it wrong to help those who are in need of others assistance? was the heart wrenching question a little girl asked softly in a mail that dropped in my inbox.
Natasha and her little family had read the article about pwhy that had appeared in a Singapore paper almost two years ago. They wrote wonderful words of support and set out to collect books for us the children and sent them to us. Then, as it often happens, there was no contact.
Then came a mail from the little girl now 11. I reproduced it as it was written:
I’m Natasha, do u remember me? It’s been more than a year that I’ve not contacted you. I’m already 11 years old and my brother is 9 years old. During the past 1 year, my family has gone through a lot of difficulties. My mummy helped to take care of someone who is not related to us who is suffering from bone cancer. Because of that my daddy decided to divorce my mummy, reason is she has been too focused in volunteer work and as a result my brother and I follow her footsteps. Is it wrong to help those who are in need of others assistance?
My mummy went to Bangladesh last year to do some voluntary work, we will be going with her this June school holidays. Although the past 1 year we didn’t contact u but u and all the children are always in our heart n mind. We have collected many storybooks for your children and would like to mail over to u. Please give me your address so that my mummy can mail to u by courier service.
We have finally come out of our own gloomy days and would like to continue to contribute our assistance to u or other charity organisations.All the best to u and hope u will forgive us for not be able to offer our assistance for the past 1year.
I read the mail many times. I felt very tiny and overwhelmed. This little child epitomized the essence of giving. Her approach was without fuss, without the jaded words that normally accompany acts of giving, sans the litanies that justify the grounds of abstaining to give. Notwithstanding the terrible ordeals she and her family went through, this little child of God never lost sight of what she instinctively felt was right.
Is it wrong to help those who are in need....remained the simple question that begged for an answer. And I, with all my years of supposed giving was left speechless. This little girl had quietly put my whole life in question, her simple interrogation was reason for deep soul searching on the very meaning of giving.
Natasha’s words are the quintessence of what giving or helping others should be. What we all do pales in front of this. It is easy to give when the time is right, when we are comfortable, when things look up. But not for this child and her little family. They simple give!
I salute the mother of this lovely child as she is the one who has instilled such generosity and love in her heart.
And to you little Natasha I want to say that it is not wrong to help those who are in need. Only very special people understand that, and you are one of them.
I normally am weary of TV crews always on the prowl for a story. They hound you till you give in. And in spite of your trying to give the story a different twist, they all ultimately turn out to be pasty copies of each other. The rag to riches kind, or rather riches to rags!
I find myself accepting more for the kick it gives the kids and staff as I learnt long back that media appearances are not the panacea one thought they could be. And yet last week when a new TV channel approached us with a request I once again accepted. The programme bore an imperious name: ek aur eklavya, making me wonder what tithe still remained to be paid in my life.
As always the shooting is a long protracted and disrupting affair where one is made to feel helpless and a tad obtuse. It stretches over days and requires immense patience and is usually quite annoying. The crew came on the appointed day and blissfully at the specified time. After some preliminary discussion we all went to the special section for the first scene of the shoot. As I settled amongst the kids busy in their morning routine, I suddenly realised that it had been a long time since I had spent quality time with them. I normally made it a point to drop by every but it was always for a fleeting moment.
I could not even remember when was the last time I had spent a day or a part of a day with the children. Al my waking hours now seemed to be spent chasing funds, striking the keyboard, glaring at a screen or answering calls and attending meetings. I suddenly found myself sending a silent world of gratitude to the TV team.
It was a lovely moment as I sat with all the kids and went through their morning routine. It was a Proustian experience of reliving a forgotten past through a host of sensory experiences. For that moment in time all else was forgotten as one laughed, screamed, stretched, bent and above all revelled in total contentment.
The spell was soon broken and it was time to move to the next scene.
I often find myself browsing through the mass of photographs that sit on my computer. I do that when I am troubled and in search of answers to questions that seem insuperable and overwhelming. I do it when I feel my spirits sagging and am in need of that extra fillip. And wonders of wonders I have never been disappointed. It is almost as if these pictures were my very own divination manual.
The last few days, weeks or it is now months have been spent trying to overcome a huge setback and finding ways to garner a huge amount of money to enable us to fulfill many dreams. I have prayed for a string miracles: one that would bring into our lives the elusive anonymous benefactor, one that would enable us to find the funds we need effortlessly, one that would give us the right idea, the right sales pitch, the right whatever.
The last few days, weeks, month have also been filled with furious activity. Mails have been sent, calls made, reports written and costings drafted. We have received loads of words of encouragement and support, we have got many promises but also our share of cynical advise and worse than that: total silence. Somehow this has not surprised me at all as in our day and age charity has become a business and hence all comments and reactions are par for the course.
But let me stop digressing and come to the point of this post and my photo search.
As I set about pondering about all mentioned above I came across the picture you see. Anurag helping Sabha during a recent outdoor visit of the special section. Now Anurag is 14 and is autistic, Sabha is 19 and is mentally challenged. They both come from different worlds, different faiths and have nothing in common barring the fact that they are both pwhy students! Anurag has been with us for almost 4 years and Sabha joined us just a month back. And yet when Sabha needed help Anurag simply extended his hand. No one had to tell him to do so. This for me is true giving, charity or whatever else you want to call it.
As I looked at this picture, my mind went back to the umpteen times I have seen this spirit of reaching out and helping in the special section of pwhy. It is remarkable and touching as none of the 20 kids and young adults have anything in common were we to apply existing social norms. And yet each and every time one is need of help another is there to give it. I wish we, the supposedly normal beings acted the same way and to borrow the words of Norman Rice dared to reach out our hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light.
“We dance for laughter, we dance for tears, we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we dance for hopes, we dance for screams, we are the dancers, we create the dreams.”
I must confess to the fact that the idea of our new project, one that still has not found its real name – having been called fostercare-cum-sponsorship programme, happy home, children’schance programme – has been cause of many a sleepless night.
Though it had always been a dream to have special children and regular kids live, grow, laugh, play and learn together, a dream called planet why, the course of events that led to us having to launch our trial home earlier than anticipated is scary. In just a few days Babli, Aditya, Nikhil, Vicky, Champa and Manu, our first innmates, will embark on a new journey, that of living together. The flat across the tiny street is getting spruced up. A school has been identified. Last moments preparations are on and there is a palpable excitement in the air.
On the flip side anxiety levels are high too and many questions crowd the mind. It is not every day that one decides to put such a motley crew together. The new teachers are busy getting to know their new wards. Mahendra and Praveen are exceptional young men who are determined to make the dream a reality and are giving it their very best, but will they succeed?
I must confess that I have been extremely perturbed and desperately looking for a sign to quell my worries. The sign came unexpectedly yesterday as I watched the special section dance. Manu, who has always been a taciturn young man suddenly came alive and danced his heart out, trying to convey his joy in the most touching way possible. I came to know later that he has been this way for some time and has bonded with the new teachers, his new found friends and soul mates and is aware of the fact that they will soon be living together. After more than 30 years, Manu will have a home.
He was the dancer creating a dream and I slept soundly for the fist time in many months!
apologies for the quality of the video, I have not yet mastered the art of editing clips
I talk too much and mostly about project why. This is the buzz doing the rounds. I guess it is a valid one.
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!
Yet, I guess my grey hair and my over half a century on this earth give me the right to explain the reasons for what may seem, a rude or even infuriating behaviour. I guess talking too much finds its roots way back: an only child with middle aged parents and a nomadic life where time was short and connections had to be made rapidly. It goes back to growing up with adults rather than kids your age. It goes back to a thirst for knowledge, a passion for books and a questioning mind. But none of the above can justify or condone poor behavior!
I beg your indulgence and urge you to read on. Project Why is undoubtedly the best thing that happened in my life. That it came about in my twilight years was something beyond my control. I often refer to pwhy as my magnum opus and my swan song!
As one grows old, time seems to gain momentum and move at accelerated speed. Before you realise it a day, a month , a year has gone by making you feel vulnerable and a tad helpless. You want to pack as much as you can and forget that others, younger than you cannot view things your way. I guess it is a befitting example of Bergson’s concept of time.
Pwhy is still in its infancy. It needs to find its own wings. Time is of the essence and for me time is short. I guess that is why I find myself thinking, dreaming, contemplating and yes talking pwhy all the time. In my haste to see it soar, I seem to forget that for others it is just one of many.
As you get on in life you become painfully aware of the fact that any moment lost will never come again so you cling to it with desperation. That is what I am guilty of I admit. But I try to assuage my guilt by remembering that what I do is not to fulfill some selfish goal or ambition but to ensure that children continue to laugh and deprived souls get their place in the sun.
I did say project why was my swan song and being but human, one wants to take that last bow with a feeling of success. The problem is that at this moment the choreography still needs its last touches, its final rehearsals and its opening night. The obsessive blabber is probably just that: my way of finding the missing links, ones that are not obvious but may spring out surreptitiously at some furtive moment, when one’s mind get spurred into action by a word.
Yes time is short and much remains to be done. And yes I do talk too much and about project why!
It is time to look ahead … easier said than done particularly at a time when our vision has been clouded by recent events, and our dreams obscured by the weight of unforeseen worries. I am reminded of the words of Florence Scovel Shinn: Every great work, every big accomplishment, has been brought into manifestation through holding to the vision, and often just before the big achievement, comes apparent failure and discouragement.
It is imperative and essential that we at project why hold on to our vision even if at this particular moment in time things, to say the least, look bleak. It would be easy to throw up our hands and be satisfied to muddle on as best we can. I presume this would be an acceptable option if all we were thinking of was just our limited selves. But that is not the case. Any failing on our part will jeopardize too many dreams.
It is time to look ahead.
We are faced with the daunting task of ensuring that our day-to-day work goes on unhindered and at the same time garner resources for our new dream. In other words we need to raise a substantial or rather astronomical amount of funds and our track record is to say the least rather pitiful. True we are a good hand-to-mouth organisation and have always met our needs thanks to great friends and well wishers. However this will not do to meet what lies ahead.
The past few days have been spent brainstorming. The challenge: find new ways of fund raising, ways that would go beyond crisis management and would not depend on one individual. Ideas are being debated passionately and we await the results with bated breath.
I decided to take a trip down memory lane and review our past efforts, as to many, we may look like an organisation that never pondered on the issue of long time funding. I had almost forgotten our cloth bags, our chocolates, our soap, our jewels and all else, all sacrificed to a variety of alters. I had even forgotten the passion with which I had tried, sadly in vain, to push my one rupee-a-day-dream, one that sat on our site for along time but found few takers. I remember how elated I felt when after receiving an award, I had hoped that this may perhaps bring the dream closer, but soon realised that people had moved on to greener pastures. And yet how could one give up. New ways had to be found, new battles won. We had to become sustainable. And slowly planet why was conceived as perhaps the way to solve an issue that had been disturbing us for a long time….
The trip down memory lane was an eye opener. We are still faced with the challenge of ensuring that project why lives on. That is it is freed from the shackles of being dependent on one or a set of individuals. The one rupee option is one side of the coin, planet why the other.
I was recently given John Wood’s book that outlines the long term vision of Room to Read. I pondered over it a long tome after turning the last page. Would it be possible for us to come up with a similar funding pattern. Sadly no! Unlike RtR we do not have tangible options that can be replicated by quantum leaps. Buildings that can bear names. And though we are in a land that boasts of perhaps one of the largest number of rich people, we are still in our infancy when it comes to parting with a few pennies for a less fortunate soul. My mind goes back to the day or rather night when we needed money for one of our broken hearts. I was at a party hosted by a ‘friend’ and where most of the guests were ‘rich’. Still naive and unworldly, I interrupted the revelry and asked all present to part with whatever they had in their wallets to save this child. Needless to say no one came forward.
Yes we have been blessed by the number of kind hearted people the world over who have always come forward when we have sought their help and they are the ones who have made pwhy the vibrant and beautiful reality it is. But we also know that this funding model is fragile and would not withstand the test of time.
Looking ahead, what still stands in my mind as a possible way out is our planet why vision, no matter how battered it may look at this moment. It is one that can take care of our tiny yet critical responsibilities while allowing us to continue our work. It is one that can allow Manu and Champa to grow old with dignity and surrounded by love, one that can shelter any child or women in need. Our work in many ways remains intangible. No extra buildings to bear testimony of the coin received and yet for us it is invaluable.
I would be thrilled if someone could show me a way to the yet elusive but needed option to secure our morrows. I am still looking
Little Pooja’s demise has stirred up a host of questions, all seeking answers and most sadly finding none. Once again what perturbed me the most was the total absence of dignity in dealing with the mortal remains of a child particularly in a land where rituals seem to rule life’s every moment. Yet when it comes to a child, they become disturbingly absent.
Everyone has a right to live and die with dignity and yet dignity is something we are so reluctant to give to another as if the very act of giving required its share of arrogance.
Somerset Maugham said: It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. Pooja’s death was a poignant reminder of the catch word we all seem to forget: dignity. I too find myself in the wrong. Was it not the total lack of dignity in Manu’s life that moved me enough to set up pwhy? And is it not dignity that is the real albeit intuitive motivation for planet why? When and why did dignity get sacrificed at the alter of sustainability and other supposedly more commercially viable notions? Another why that needs to be answered.
Little Pooja’s death brought back to life with deafening silence the real reason of planet why: a place where anyone can preserve his or her dignity be it a Manu or a Pooja.
I thought she would make it… but a few hours after I wrote this, she moved on and left this world. The doctors said she died of pneumonia and malnutrition. Come to think about it Pooja died starved of love. Her mother had abandoned her and her father had no time for her. She died because she intuitively knew that she was a burden to all.
Pooja tiptoed out of this world just like little Sandhya had, leaving many questions begging for answers. One again I guess, death was the kindest gift that the God of lesser children could have granted this unloved child. I wonder what would have been her life in a land where Goddesses are worshiped but little girls are not wanted.
We came to know later that the woman who had ‘adopted’ Pooja, was not quite the kind woman we thought she was. She sought such kids and then used them in different ways to earn her living. Pooja was lucky that our centre was close to were she lived as she could for a few hours just be a child. I shudder to think what would have awaited her in years to come.
Yet over the years I have leaned to look at life through a wider angle. Had the woman not come into Pooja’s life her fate would have been worse. She may have helped her father who panhandles for a living and then fritters his earnings on hooch, drugs or women, or she would have landed in some state run institution where life is dark and abysmal. Pooja could never have aspired to what life normally has in store for girls born on the other side of a fence: a loveless marriage and early motherhood laced with the acceptability that comes from wedlock. At best she may have been sold into a life of abuse. At least for some time she was cared for, just like the proverbial goat being readied for slaughter.
Pooja has left many questions that need answers and yet have none. Her death has brought to the fore the total helplessness that one feels in the wake of such tragedy and makes one wonder what one could have done or could do. Barring the few hours we can give a child in despair, we have little to offer. And yet at times like this one knows that something has to be done.
It is at time like these that the need to set up planet why seems urgent. If it did exist than may Poojas could have found a shelter and protection. If it did exist than maybe we would be able to open our eyes and hearts wider and reach out to those no one wants.
“Life is made up, not of great sacrifices or duties, but of little things, in which smiles, and kindnesses, and small obligations, given habitually, are what win and preserve the heart and secure comfort” Humphrey Davy
The hectic and almost manic activity that seemed to have pervaded pwhy in the past weeks, may have led some to believe that we had lost sight of who and what we really are. Our normally placid ways were hijacked, albeit for a moment, by a dream that seemed within reach. Yet life went on a pwhy as it always does and nothing had really changed. Our heart was still in the right place and our eyes wide open.
Little Pooja who at this moment is battling for life in a hospital is one of our students at Okhla. She was just one of many: a happy child that came to class with touching regularity. A few days back she fell sick. Her mother took her to the local doctor but to no avail. She went from bad to worse.
Pooja’s mom is not her real mother. She was abandoned by her birth mother who wanted to make her life with another man. Her natural father is an addict gambler and womaniser. A rag picker woman gave her shelter and ‘adopted’ her but her extreme poverty comes in the way of her heart of gold. We took Pooja to the hospital where we were told hat she needed to be transfused. Two of our teachers promptly offered to donate blood. As I write these words, Pooja is fighting to live, surrounded by new friends and well wishers.
One cannot but wonder what lies in store for littlePooja. The plight of the girl child in this land is know to all. Where they given the choice, would little girls accept to come into this world? It is bad enough to be a girl but one that is deprived of the protection of a real family and condemned to poverty the future has little to offer. Pooja may come out of this ordeal, but may others await her.
Many have been critical of the approach we have adopted at pwhy as it does defeat logic. yet if we were to start all over, I know we would do it in exactly the same way. We may not have answers to all the problems that plague our society but we are not in the business of changing the world. We simply try to the best of our ability to solve the ones that come our way.
When a few days back I sent out myriad of emails in all directions seeking help to salvage a dream that was threatening to melt away into oblivion I was overwhelmed with the words of support and encouragement I received. Among them was a poem of which I quote a few lines:
When the night is out In full force And darkness Penetrates me to the source When the mind is about to yield To the fears of the flesh When the storm rises up From the gut And uneasy beats the heart
I try to stand up I try to spin a new yarn Try to survive the moment And vow to the bitter end – I will make the river bend I will make the mountain stoop I will cover the sky with imagination And uncover the face of You.From Soul Search Engine Al Raines
The words gave me great solace and the courage to survive the moment and not give up. Days passed. Deals were renegotiated. Time was bought. We had barely 6o days to save our dream. Another desperate mail was sent once again.
How I wish I had 20/30 or the whole 80 lacs said one of the answers and I was moved to tears. I could not imagine what was to ensue. A day or two later another mail from my dear friend Abhigyan simply said Let’s make a mailer on the book offer and send it out all our contacts. explaining your cause and also the offer.
Before I go further let me explain: Abhigyan wears many hats, and one of them is that of a publisher who recently launched his very own publishing house aptly named Undercover Utopia. Before I could catch my breath again another mail confirmed that the show was on the road,. Undecover Utopia had decided to save our dream by offering all the 4 books of their collection at half price and donating half of that to save pwhy’s dream.
Words are inadequate to express what I feel. I believe that the only way to salute this beautiful gesture is to ensure it meets with complete success, not so much for the dream fulfilled, but because it is an expression of all that is good in our world, something we see so little of!
I could not end this post without mentioning the books on offer. I have read and enjoyed them all. However one of them – Soul Search Engine – has stirred my soul. Read it, it is unique and everyone’s story and perhaps throws some insight into why there are some who dare walk the road less travelled.
Soul Search Engine ends with these words: “Creation is a manifestation of the one’s many ideas… every idea one step away from being alone… The meaning is for us to discover. Creation is only a stimulus. All we have to do is respond. And respond well. Everything is a great question waiting for a great answer.” Al Raines (Soul Search Engine).
Was it just a month ago that we at pwhy were all set to launch a new project. A very ambitious one I must confess and one that was not quite our own I must also admit. It all began with an idea suggested by an erstwhile well wisher, one that was so daunting that we quickly suggested a trial version as we were a little apprehensive.
What ensued was rather peculiar. As we began giving life to this idea, our resolve strengthened whereas the commitment of its initiator began to wane rapidly. I presume this happened because we were looking at different ends of the same issue.
The once intimidating thought of giving deprived children a go at the best education possible looked eminently doable. The enthusiasm of both parents and children gave the encouragement we needed to surmount whatever obstacles came our way. Necessary course corrections were made and our minds wide open to new ones if need be. That was the view from one side
From the other side things looked different. What had seemed as a win-win situation, a panacea for all ills, a great way to change society when conceived in thought started losing its shine as it was shared with others in a attempt to secure the much needed financial support for such a programme. As numbers were stated, doubts started emerging: how could one envisage spending so much for a poor kid!
The tune seemed too familiar and the conclusion foregone, the idea once held as path breaking was now found preposterous, one that needed to be quickly dropped. The fears recently voiced raised their head again bringing to the fore the invisible yet impregnable line that divides our society.
One could have comfortably slunk back into earlier days and carried on as if nothing had occurred but that would have been perfidious as one cannot put back the clock. How can one take away the hope one so patiently instilled in parents; how does one wish away the sparkle that one sees in the eyes of the children when one talks about the new project, one just has to begin.. again!
As I downloaded the day’s pictures I came across this one. It is our own little Kiran having lunch at pwhy on one of her rare days off from school. Kiran is special to us as she was born just when pwhy began. She grew with us and became an integral part of our lives.
She is an exceptional child in more ways than one and has often delighted us with her own brand of logic: bet it her own type of English or her little pearls of wisdom.
Kiran spent the first years of her life either being carried around practically where ever I went, or as she grew older in the special section which she somehow preferred to the creche! Slowly but surely an incredible bond was created between this little girl and the kids in the special section notwithstanding their age. Kiran is now in school but her ties with her pals have gone stronger. She spends all her off days and holidays with them and often turns teacher for the day!
Kiran goes to an upmarket school now as her humble family feels that it will open new doors for her. She is slowly learning about the unfortunate divides that exist in our society and expresses them in her own candid ways, and deals with them with a little help from us. But Kiran has never felt the need to alienate one life for the other. She is equally at easy with the kids in her street as she is with her school pals and finds time for her buddies too. She flits comfortably from loud Hindi slang, to barely audible English to sign language when communicating with her hearing impaired friends.
The above post is my answer to a doubt recently voiced about the wisdom of a new project we have launched at the behest of a well wisher. Sadly these apprehensions stem out from the attitude of potential donors, something I had foreseen and expressed at a time when things were still being debated. Helping children break social barriers is anathema to many. What is pitiful is that no one will accept this reality. The blame will be squarely put on the tiny shoulders of the potential beneficiary with supercilious ease.
I am not endowed with the gift of divination and cannot see into the future. Yet I am reasonably certain that Kiran and any other child who is given a chance, will be an asset and not a liability to society. It is also true that all children given the same chance may not turn out to be exceptional. Unless we give a reasonable chance to this project, we will never know what truly happens.
New ideas, specially those that rock the boat never find takers. Yet they are the ones that bring about the change we all want to see and somehow once again in the life of pwhy we find ourselves faced with a new challenge we know we have to take on with courage and determination.
Dear to us are those who love us. . . but dearer are those who reject us as unworthy, for they add another life; they build a heaven before us whereof we had not dreamed, and thereby supply to us new powers out of the recesses of the spirit . . .
Ralph Waldo Emerson
These words reverberated in my mind this morning. Wonder why? Perhaps because the last week has been one of rejections. If you look for the word reject in the dictionary you come across this definition: dismiss as inadequate, inappropriate or not to one’s taste.
It is easy to reject and people do it with ease. Special kids are not a worthy cause to defend, a carefully crafted dream is not to one’s taste; ten years of a labour of love are inappropriate in a world where everything is coloured in dividends and returns; dreams and aspirations are inadequate as they remain intangible in our materialistic times. Today what is sought are quick and visible results.
I concede to the fact that in the world we have nurtured for almost a decade now, things take time and may seem elusive at first. A child who can barely hold her head at 5 needs years to walk her first step; one who cannot hear or speak has to muster strength from unknown depths to mouth her first intelligible sound; and the being rejected and scorned for years needs time to trust another again. But when they do walk, speak or trust it is nothing short of a miracle, one that was worth waiting for.
It is also true that the ones we fondly call our
special kids, often do not make a pretty picture. It is also true that no matter how much or how well they learn they will never be able to compete with their peers who are aid to be normal. True again that they are not a wise or sound investment. We simply cast them aside with a string of harsh or politically correct names: disabled, handicapped, challenged, differently abled.
If you have ever set your doubts and apprehensions aside and cared to enter the world of these wonderful beings, you will soon see that the above attributes better describe us than them. They accept you with open hearts and huge smiles and without any judgment. They open their world to you without restrain. They are grateful fro whatever you give them and expect no more. But that is not all. They have a secret mission, one that maybe even they are not aware of: they compel you to look at yourself with honesty and courage. The moment you have dared to look into their eyes be prepared for a journey to the depth of your soul.
As a friend once told me, special kids are Angels sent to earth to show us what we truly are capable of. So blessed are the ones who are given the opportunity to care for such souls. They give us the courage to walk that extra mile, grit to carry on in the face of all adversities till we reach our goal and realise our dreams.
So as the rejections come our way, we need to see them as a boon and be grateful to those who cast them as they alone will give us the impetus needed to defend the causes we hold dear to us and build dreams no matter how impossible they seem.
Yes dear to us are those who love us. . . but dearer are those who reject us as unworthy,
A mail dropped by. It was from a dear friend, one of the few who look with their hearts and walk that extra mile for to save dreams, particularly those conjured by others. At this moment of time he is busy saving mine. A dream that began almost a decade ago with a chance encounter between a middle aged woman and a street beggar.
The plight of that young soul confined in a useless body and a fractured mind pilloried by all perturbed the woman for many nights. Somehow she knew that she had to do something, something larger than throwing a few coins his way. And thus the dream began. The dream of giving Manu a life!
Henry Thoreau said: If you build castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. Yes, thinking of giving Manu a life, one where he could have a warm bed to sleep in and friends to laugh with and share a meal with was indeed a chimera.
My mind goes back to the first meal shared with Manu. He was still encrusted with years of dirt and abuse. We had given him a plate of dal and some rotis . He sat on a stool eating them quietly. A while later he looked up and smiled at me and offered me a piece of roti dipped in dal. I sat next him and ate. Maybe that was when the foundation was laid.
Years have passed. Manu has friends and spends the day at pwhy. He even goes to birthday parties where he shares a treat with his pals The foundation has got stronger. But Manu still does not have a bed to sleep in and a place to call his own. The foundation is still not finished. The dream will be truly fulfilled with planet why.
You can share some of the moments of the birthday party here
How I wish I had 10/20 lakhs to spare if not the whole 80! These heartwarming words dropped into my mailbox shortly after my appeal for help. They may seem anodyne to some, empty to others, and to yet others as futile as the famed if wishes were horses.. But to me these simple words are the expression of the immense love and unstinted trust that have come our way since the day we took our first hesitant step on the journey called project why and has made our every wish a reality.
Our steps grew bolder, our dreams larger and each one was backed by a wonderful network of people who saw with their hearts and never turned their back on us. Hearts were mended, hopes fulfilled and new ones crafted, and challenges accepted with new found conviction as there was always someone out there who came forward and embraced them with us.
And along the way came the ultimate dream: planet why, one that would make us come full circle and above all provide a befitting finale to my swan song. It was a dream I started sharing with all those who had made pwhy possible, hesitantly at first but as days went by with more confidence and even temerity.
Today the dream seems a reality within our reach. True that some minor hiccups came our way, but none big enough to make us stop, let alone lose faith. Once again I have been overwhelmed by the spontaneous offers of help that have come our way. True that they may seem small or even insignificant when viewed against the target we have to meet but that is only if you look at them with your eyes. When you look with your heart, each one of them is priceless.
Some have offered whatever they could spare, others have proffered words of support and encouragement that infuse us with the strength to go on. A publisher friend offered us a 50% of sale profits of books sold to pwhy supporters and donors. Many have donned their thinking caps and are brainstorming about ways to raise money. Across the world, a bevy of project why supporters are at work to make planet why come true.
The baffling judgement pronounced by a local court yesterday reinforced once again the vulnerability of children in India. A little girl allegedly raped by her own father was sent back to live with him as the man was acquitted because the key witnesses (her mother and sister) turned hostile.
At the time of the rape she was 4, today she is 7. I cannot begin to think what goes on in her tiny mind and am at a loss to picture the consequences that this will have on her tomorrows. This tender soul has been raped not only by her father but by all those she could trust, her mother, her sister and above all the entire system ostensibly created to protect her: society with all its trimmings: police, legal system and what not.
What is galling and frightening are the words pronounced by the judge: The acquittal in thiscase is painful as a blossoming child is alleged to have been ravished by her own father. But unfortunately her mother and sister turned hostile. But what is disturbing apart from the acquittal is the fact that the victim may have to live under the same roof and in the same hands of the accused.
Is justice blind to this point?
Even if one was to play Devil’s Advocate there is not much one could proffer. The mother was vulnerable in a society that is ruthless to one who dares go against her husband. The sister had no option but say what she was told to. The mother alone could not have brought up the children alone. The judge had to go by the book and so on.
And in all this the little child was forgotten and had no one to stand by her and protect her. My mind goes back to one of our students who had been raped by a neighbour when she was 4. The man was caught, did a stint in jail and came out an resumed his life. The girl grew up and became a teenager but her past followed her: she was branded a bad girl and no one talked or played with her as she had once had been raped, never mind if she was barely 4 at the time.
My heart goes out to this little child whose childhood has been ravished and who stands helpless and alone.
It is with the spirit of the soldiers of the Light Brigade that we have set out to raise the funds needed to secure the piece of land that came our way almost by miracle. When we began this daunting task we were needless to say petrified. This was way out of league. But two days later we find ourselves armed with newfound confidence as the 10 lacs needed to buy us two months of reprieve landed our way not as a loan, but as a donation from two wonderful souls that have always been there for us.
We now need to raise the remaining money. Easier said than done. But one look at the kids in the picture is enough to fuel us with determination and courage. To many the picture may seem innocuous, just a bunch of kids enjoying a picnic. Let me unravel the reality that lies behind. Most of these children are what is in our day and age called differently abled. Preeti who sits on the table walks on her hands, Sapna sitting in front is 12 though she looks 5. Champa whose smile is larger than life was abused, Ruchi will soon be unable to walk as she suffers from a debilitating neurological syndrome.. the list is endless each child in this picture has a future in jeopardy, held by a tenuous link: the life span of a mother. Oops I forgot there are two little girls in the picture who are wat one says in common parlance normal. Yashu who has been celebrating her birthdays for now five years with hers special pals, and Kiran who has known them since she was a baby.
Yesterday was Yashu’s birthday and our special kids had a day out at Dilli Hath. Like regular kids they played, blew candles, sang, ate cake and got return gifts. They too had bought their gift: beautiful cards they had made with love and care.
Most of these kids will grow up and one day become differently abled adults.. While differently abled kids are cute, adults are not. They become the butt of ridicule and are often derided and pilloried. It is a sad and harsh reality that often after the death of their parents, such children are rejected by heir won families. That is what happened to Manu who in spite of having a family was left to roam the streets and beg. Planet Why is for each one of them, as they grow old and lose all hope. It is to ensure that they live with dignity, surrounded by love and care and tended to till they move on.
We have 70 days to make this come true. Not much time but when one looks at these wonderful children one knows that we have to do it, come what may.
Yesterday was Uptal’s 6th birthday. He is at the women centre and his mom planned a special party. It was on this very day, five years ago that Utpal had his tryst with fire, one that undoubtedly changed his life in more ways than one. His tiny life has not been an easy one. It has been packed with many hurdle, but he has always come out a winner.
