by Anuradha Bakshi | May 21, 2007 | Uncategorized
Bye bye hot samosas was the the blog I had written some time back when one first heard of the probable banning of all street food in our city. Yesterday the Supreme Court decreed and imposed a ban on all street food.
We often fail to see things unless we have a real reason to. For as long as I remember I have driven past roads in Delhi not quite looking at street food. Lately I have found myself actually doing so and have been amazed by the abundance of what is soon going to disappear: From small road stalls to carts, from samosas to meals via fruits and zingy snacks, the street food culture permeates the very soul of this city! And true to its globalisation efforts we now have Chinese food and burger stalls too! Frankly I cannot begin to imagine the streets without these. It is true that if we look closely at some of these stalls we are compelled to frown at the hygiene standards or the safety norms; however life without them seems a tad sad.
That was nostalgia but the problem does not end there. In my pre project why days street food was that forbidden treat we sought once in a while, but many of us do not realise that for millions in the city it is a lifeline!
At 5 or 10 rupees a plate it is a hot meal for those who do not have families or time to get up and cook. To others it is the sole way of having some fruits or a sweet treat. And to thousands of families it is the much needed income that brings a meal at the end of the day.
It was heartwarming to see that a leading TV channel had launched a campaign to save Delhi’s street food on the lines of earlier campaigns to get justice. And the pictures that were aired were those of humble people who candidly defended their right to a meal.
That Delhi is bursting at its seams because of the daily influx of migrants is a reality that no one can overlook, but can one deny the fact that this has happened with the tacit approval of those in power. Swelling vote banks, new causes to defend were all part of a hubristic game and no one saw the writing on the wall.
As numbers grew so did the support network: food stalls, street barbers, cobblers, cycle repair shops et al. And greed broke all bounds: the greed of the politicians who wanted more voters, the greed of the administration who saw more sources of dubious income, the greed of the people who found new shortcuts to earning. Till the day when someone saw red and petitioned the courts.
I cannot but begin to imagine how the new law will be brought into force keeping in mind the host of people that it will affect: livelihood of some, sustenance of the other and above all extra income of yet another. The scenario is quite frightening as no real option seems to have been put in place. The ban on street food will swell the ranks of the unemployed and increase lawlessness. Or will it be a cat and mouse game that will benefit the greedy law enforcers as the fact that street food is available in the remotest recesses of the city makes it easy to move into a grey mode.
All this is yet to be seen, the large issue remains that once again it is the poor that is hit. We will still find ways to fulfill our nostalgic urges as in all likelihood, traditional street food will find new moorings. What will disappear is the hot lunch option that sustains a multitude of people who toil hard in this city and make it a better place for us.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 19, 2007 | utpal
How many times must up a man loop up, before he can see the sky, wrote Bob Dylan way back in the sixties in his legendary song: Blowin in the wind, an ode to all the unanswered questions that dot our lives.
Today I am reminded of this poignant words as I watch Utpal packing his little red bag for yet another uncharted journey. Like all school going children Utpal is on summer vacation and will in a few hours make a short trip that will take him to his mother. But this time the mother and child reunion will be in a different place altogether. Utpal is going to spend a month with his mom in the rehab centre where she has checked in subsequent to her recent setback.
It was just a year back that I had walked the hot lanes of a crowded market to find the little red bag that now once again sits in he hallway and that was to carry Utpal’s things to his new boarding school. At that moment I could not have imagined the numerous times it would have to be packed to accompany this remarkable child to various destinations and wonder how many more are yet to come.
When I look back at Utpal’s five tiny years packed with so much pain and strife, I wonder how much more will he have to endure. The answer, I guess, is just blowin’ in the wind.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 15, 2007 | Uncategorized
Children sometimes say the most astonishing things. Many times it takes you a while to decipher the words as they often assume that you know what they are thinking and deliver the rest in what can best the best riddle..
Kiran and I were riding in the three wheeler when she suddenly said: Pamika -read shamika my daughter – pablic main thi naa.. which can be translated as: Shamika was in public, wasn’t she? Then as she saw my bemused face she added: School, kaun se school main thi.. which school was she in?
I mumbled : French school and pat came the next sentence: who pablic hai na.
That is when the penny dropped and I could say Eureka!
What little Kiran mean was asking was whether Shamika studied in a public school as compared to a government school. To her there were just two kinds of schools: the public ones like the one she went to, and the to municipal or government ones.
Her parents and her favourite aunt had gone to the later. But the whole family decided to make a huge effort and get her admitted in a public school to give her the best start possible. Her admission has its own share of drama that she witnessed as nothing can be hidden in the tiny homes. Kiran processed the information in her own way and then came up with her perplexing query as she reviewed every one she knew.
The above incident can lead to many debates but what stays in my mind is the vulnerability of a child ‘s mind as it handles information it receives. What one must not forget is that such maters remained ingrained for a long time.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 14, 2007 | Uncategorized
Sunday 13 May was an special day at project why. A Right to Information meeting was held at our Okhla centre. Santosh and Priyanka tow RTI activists from Parivartan and Kabir, came all the wau from east Delhi to explain how this Act could make a diference in the lives of humble Indian citizens. The meet had been organised by Amit and our community awareness team.
It was a hot sultry day and at first attendance was scarce as many believed that the meeting was dubious reasons ranging. A little prompting from Pushpa and Manju our Okhla centre teachers and numerous trips by kids to their home did the trick and soon some parents and bystanders arrived. As the meeting began more people joined in. Santosh and Priyanka introduced the RTI in simple terms replete with case studies and slowly the motley crowded got interested and started sharing their stories. The main theme was ration cards and ration availability, something that seemed to touch everyone. A palpable excitement pervaded the atmosphere as simple people slowly realised that they too had a voice, and one that could be heard.
Slowly people started to raise their own issues ranging from admission in schools to the precarious nature of their habitat and our RTI activists showed them how even such issues could be addressed through RTI.
The seed had been sown. And though there were a few discordant notes namely voiced by some drunken men, the general mood was one of optimism and hope. But we cannot rest o our laurels, this is just the embryonic beginning of what can be an incredible journey. We will help file some applications this week itself as the proof of the pudding is in the eating. Simple souls have short memories and the wretchedness of their lives may soon obliterate this fleeting moment of hope.
It is our duty to do so.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 12, 2007 | Uncategorized
Global warming is hitting our planet faster than we can imagine. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change released its latest report: “Climate Change 2007: Impacts, Adaptation and Vulnerability,” in Brussels, 6 April 2007 and the findings are alarming and urging everyone to act.
Recent magazines and newspapers have started highlighting the issue with regularity and publishing lists of what can be done. Many websites have come into existence each trying to make us understand the gravity of the situation and suggest remedial actions. Yet there seems to be no urgency in the matter be it on the national level or the individual one. The number of cars and bikes are increasing in quantum leaps, trees are being felled with renewed alacrity, the sales of incandescent bulbs is as healthy as ever and quite frankly none of us seem to care.
Plastic is being used with impunity and water wasted with abandon. In slums with the advent of credit cards and easy loans, there has been an increase in the number of motorcycles that young people use even to go to the next block and rev with glee to impress. The panni or plastic bag is to be seen everywhere from hand to choked drains, and plastic pouches litter the streets flaunting the names of the biggest MNCs. From washing soap, to detergent, to shaving foam, to ketchup, to chewing tobacco, to coffee, to jam, to shampoo every brand has its packaging for the poor.
A recent informal survey showed that each slum dwelling used an average of 10 to 15 pouches a day. We tried over the years to raise awareness on environmental issues but too not much avail. Perhaps we did not do it convincingly enough. One of our projects entitled once is not enough lost momentum. Maybe we ourselves did not see the writing on the wall.
Two years back we even launched a sustainability programme based on raising awareness on bio-diesel. In 2003 – 2004 we gathered one ton of seeds from the pongamia trees that proliferate in Delhi and milled about 300 liters of SVO the crude form of bio-diesel. We organised a meet to introduce slum migrants to this new fuel. Unfortunately because of lack of resources this project had to stop. Today each year, tons of plum pongamia seeds replete with oil are swept away and then burnt by the local municipality sweepers.
I guess we too did not persue the matter with the required passion. However recent events have once again made us face reality and revive all our past efforts. A workshop on global warming and related maters was held with the staff and an action plan drawn. It was decided to revive once is not enough, a simple project that asks each one of us to find one more use of any thing they are about to discard. It could be paper, a plastic bag, a bottle, a box.. The idea is to delay its landing in the garbage dump.
The Okhla children held a rally against plastic and went to many slum clusters explaining how its inordinate use could harm our environment. Teachers are now talking to the children about global warming and how we can help in arresting it.
It is not an easy task as most of the things we need to fight against are the the very ones that spell success and achievement in the lives of the urban poor. Others are the ones hat brig ease and comfort in our lives. But we will carry on as best we can as no education can be complete unless it teaches what is relevant to our day and times.
This is long journey, one we hope will lead to the day when our students will turn into young adults who walk three blocks rather than take a bike ride. We also hope that the day will come when MNCs will look into eco-friendly pouches and the pongamia seeds that go waste every year will yield their liquid gold.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 12, 2007 | Uncategorized
Little Kiran has survived all her admission woes and is now in a new school. She is special for all of us at project why as it was the day she was born that our work at Giri Nagar began. Right from the beginning she has been part of us and grown with us.
Since she was a little girl Kiran has always bonded with the kids of our special section and spends most of her free time with them. She knows how to handle each one of them and they all love her. She can be firm and kind and even helps the teachers when needed.
So it was no surprise when she announced that as she was on summer holiday, she would spend her day in that class and asked us whether she could lead the morning gym sequence. How could we refuse! It was touching to see the seriousness with which this little 7 year old handled the 20 minutes programme, coaxing and cajoling each one to give his or her best in spite of their handicaps. Toe touching, and jumping jacks, stretching and jogging, she did not leave out anything. And her class did not let her down, as they performed better then ever.
The deaf, the dumb, the mentally challenged and the physically handicapped, the autistic and the spastic everyone bonded with this remarkable child and had a whale of a time. There were no differences, no judging the other, no looking down at; all one could see was a bunch of kids ranging from the age of 6 to 30 enjoying a very special moment.
Another instance of the magic of project why!
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 12, 2007 | Uncategorized
There is a new blog about the comings and goings of project why. Khabar why ki was launched some time back hesitantly by our incomparable duo Shamika and Rani. After a slow beginning it as now taken off in style.
Khabar why ki is a blog in roman Hindi and shares in a candid way the daily events that occur at project why. It offers a different view as it comes almost from the horse’s mouth. I hope many of you will drop and encourage this new enterprise.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 11, 2007 | two indias
India celebrates 150th anniversary of the 1857 uprising often known as the first war of Independence. The capital is in festive mood, a holiday had been declared and the police is on tenterhook as is usual every time we celebrate an event!
For the past week TV channels and national dailies have been replete with visuals and articles about a sometimes forgotten page of our history. One such article caught my eye yesterday as in some tenuous way it links me to that important historical day. The article which appeared in the Times of India of 10th May 2007 is entitled Malegaon to Mauritius: On the trail of 1857, and retraces the destinations taken by the 1857 refugees fleeing the revenge of the Company and sometimes the old feudal repressive order. One of the destinations was Mauritius and its ever growing need of indentured labour to work the sugarcane fields.
In 1871 on board the SS Nimrod, my ancestor landed on the shores of this island as Labour no: 354495. Many stories were crafted to explain why this landlord of a village near Patna had fled his homeland. I have never been able to ascertain which of the tales is the right one but the two British officer’s swords that form part of our family’s legacy make me believe that he may have been part of the great uprising.
Labour no 354495 was not an ordinary man as his descendants became leaders of the community and some like my father chose to come back to the homeland after Independence. My past often haunted me and I made the journey back to the very village he had fled from. It was there that I realised my incredible destiny and made the decision to pay back what I felt was a debt to my country, for had things been otherwise I would have been a simple village woman and not a diplomat’s daughter.
One tends to forget one’s heritage as one gets busy with the simple act of living and building one’s own history. As you go along and create your own comfort zones, the past gets conveniently obliterated and memory selective. But one is never free of one’s past that has an uncanny way of catching up with you as I experienced via a simple newspaper article.
Once again I see myself as the descendant of an indentured labour who was compelled to leave his home as he had chosen to fight for his land and probably knew his days were counted. Most of us have forgotten the struggle of those who laid their lives down to ensure that we could grow in a free country. A politicised extravaganza is perhaps not the right way to commemorate this important day. Maybe one should delve in some soul searching and assess whether we have been worthy of the numerous sacrifices made by simple individuals. And if we do so honestly the picture is not pretty.
A simple perusal of any newspaper or news bulletin is sufficient to prove this as it is often a litany of items ranging from rape to murder, from corruption to scams. But what strikes the most is the growing gap between two Indias: that of the rich who seem to be doing better by the day, and that of the poor who are just surviving.
What is truly frightening is the ever increasing abdication of responsibility by the rulers in every field possible: you cannot provide safety to women, so stop them from working at night; you cannot provide basic amenities to school so hand them over to private agencies. And it gets worse: you want to get rid of a disturbing person, the police will do it for you at a price. To earn extra money you can pass a woman for your wife and smuggle her out. Everything is possible when law makers become law breakers.
As one who has now spent close to a decade trying to help underprivileged children get what is rightfully theirs, what has shocked me the most is the total lack of concern of the privileged people who are unwilling to reach out in support. On the contrary many are contemptuous of the work one does. This break down of the moral fibre of our society is dangerous as it carries the seed of destruction.
How long do we think we can shield ourselves behind theories of fate and karma and wish problems away. How long can we maintain a stony silence in front of the injustice we see. True that we have seen an awakening of civil society but it is sad that it is only heard when the victim is belongs to one’s own strata.
Those who fought for our independence did not seek freedom for a selected few, they sought it for every one. This is something we seem to have forgotten.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 10, 2007 | Uncategorized
Meet our new teachers: Azad and Pinku Kumar. At first glance they look like many of te young teachers we have but that is not quite so.
Azad and Pinku Kumar are our old students who have just sat for their XI Boards. Knowing their track record they will pass with high marks as they always have.
They are both from very poor families. Azad’s father drives an auto rickshaw and he is the eldest of many siblings. For the past years they have topped their class and helped many other students in their studies. So when we fell short of teachers the choice was foregone as once again this has been part of the great project why dream.
It was a huge moment when I saw them standing in their smart shirts, a little nervous but full of confidence and hope. Azad who is excellent in maths will teach class VI and VII and Pinku Kumar will teach the primary section at Giri Nagar. They will initially be trainee teachers, but knowing them I am sure they will soon be able to work independently.
As I watched them this morning, I knew that in spite of the odds we have had to face time and again, it had been an incredible journey.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 8, 2007 | Uncategorized
Once again I borrow the title of one of my favourite Neruda poems. The need for this post is based on a call from a dear friend and supporter who was a bit perplexed at what what happening at project why. I guess his doubt came from the posts like this one, and could have given the impression that we were stopping our activities as they stood today.
Far from that, project why as it stands today- 2 early education programmes, 4 primary education programmes, 1 day care for special children, 1 secondary programme and 1 computer centre – is thriving and will continue to do so as long as no outside factors come its way.
The thoughts shared on several blogs of late about planet why was because of some issues that one cannot afford to play down. One is the likelihood of seeing many of the slums we work in relocated prior to the Commonwealth games coupled with the sometimes incomprehensible sealing laws; the other is the need to plan a long term sustainability effort that is in tune with the demands of the market forces and in consonance with our abilities and skill, and last but not the least is the long term responsibility we have towards some of our more fragile wards in the light of a quasi absence of state run residential programmes for such forsaken souls.
Keeping in mind the possibility of seeing our nine centres scattered one fie day we have also begun a gentle transfer of power which began with an unlikely gift I asked my staff. The idea was to make them aware of their own capabilities and then teach them slowly how to manage and administer their own centres. This would come useful if and when our centres are dispersed in many directions as part of the Delhi shining campaign.
The sustainability issue I presume is self-evident as one has to set pwhy on a long time auto pilot course some day. I would also enable us to widen our activities and reach out to more children
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 8, 2007 | Uncategorized
Just when you think that you have got it all in place, that you have achieved the quasi impossible, that it is time to make grandiose plans for the future and that you can bask in your so-called glory, you are dealt with a blow that calls you to order.
This picture was taken just a month or so ago and it seemed that we had finally come to rest as Utpal’s shattered family was finally reunited in one place after a long battle.His mom and sister looked happy and he had a place to come back to for his holidays.
Was it just a week ago that he had come home for a few hours and we had planned all the things he would take with is him for his summer holidays that he was to spend with his little family. And the glint in his eyes each time we mentioned his mummy was heartbreaking. Was hubris that made me see only what I wanted and ignore the rest. How did I forget the insidious ways of the enemy we had fought. How did I not see Utpal’s mom disturbed look. How did I miss what was silently screaming to be seen. How did I forget the hold alcohol had on the spirit and the soul of its victims.
Yesterday a frantic call from the place she is in shattered the very foundation of the life we had so painfully created. Utpal’s mom had spend two days at a hospital caring for a sick child, and somehow her small foray into an unprotected world had awoken the demons of her sordid past. From that moment onwards her restlessness had increased. Too fragile to be able to handle the situation and not having a support group she became aggressive and threatening. The caretakers of the place she is in ran scarred and delivered the ultimate sentence; she could not stay there any longer.
We were at a loss. Where could she go where she wuld be safe. The concerted advise was tha she needed another stay in a home where he could be counselled and protected. Well there are not many such places in Delhi. It was suggested that she go to a place in another state where such facilities exist. But then how would her son meet her?
That is where we stand today. Will we find a place for her as all other options would be pushing her back into the hell of her past?
What is heartrending is that that deep down she wants to rebuild her life. The truth is that the power of alcohol is deep seated and she cannot fight this alone. The truth is that a woman who drinks is shunned by all. But the truth also is that she did not ask for such a life and that she was a victim of circumstances.
Before anyone asks why I cannot bring her home, the answer is simple: my home is intimately linked to her past; that most of those who work or come by are from the very place where she lived her dark days and where predators lurk.
We will set out today to look for solutions and hope we find one.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 7, 2007 | Uncategorized
This morning a neighbour of Mehajabi came by. Actually he was the man who had first brought her to us. He had come to collect the precious receipts that would ensure that the child was operated. After collecting the two pieces of paper and listening to the instructions, he lingered on for a while, hesitant to say what he wanted to.
I asked him what the mater was and he said shoved some medical papers in my hand and mumbled some inaudible words. This is his story..
Two years ago he lived in a village in Bihar where he eked a living as a daily wage labourer. He has a tiny plot of land and a little house. Life would have carried on were it not for his wife’s sudden loss of hearing. Local medical facilities being non-existent, he decided to come to Delhi in the hope of getting his wife cured. In Delhi he rented a tiny hovel and started his life as a daily wage labourer in earnest. He also set out get his wife treated but soon discovered that each day spent at the government hospital was one without work and the treatment was taking forever as he was sent from pillar to post.
After some time the comings and goings got the better of the little family as there were four children that needed to be carted each time and the loss of income was too much to bear. The wife too took on a job and life went on. But the ear ailment worsened. The wife’s employer decided to ‘help’ and sent the wife to a local specialist. She paid part of the treatment but then left for another city. The wife was ‘operated’ upon and given a huge prescription of expensive medicines. Part of the doctor’s bill still needed to be paid and the man borrowed and paid the same. But no money was left for the medication and the wife never went back to the doctor.
This was two weeks ago, and the man was at his wit’s end as infection had set in, the landlord not been paid and the family in danger of being homeless. He had come to ask for help.
A quick glance at the medical papers he carried showed that they did not even state what kind of surgery had been performed. We took him to our local doctor who referred him to a ENT specialist and we will try and ensure that she gets treated.
There must be many like this family who come to the city and get caught in an infernal spiral. They leave their roots and home to seek better medical help but soon find themselves worse they were in a inhospitable big city that is ready to devour them. As they try to survive, they sink deeper into debt. Some turn to alcohol, others gamble, and still others take their frustration out on their helpless families.
Welcome to the world of medical tourism of another kind.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 3, 2007 | two indias
This morning I went to Mehajabi’s home. I had thought that seven years had inured be to most things but I was in for a surprise.
I must confess that I have been haunted by Mehajabi’s mom’s face since the time I laid eyes on her and I decided to accompany Rani on as she set out for her customary visit to the home of any child that needs heart surgery. This is to ensure that the child will have proper care after the delicate surgery.
Mehajabi lives in a remote enclave behind the Jamia Milia University. We left our three wheeler on the main road that runs along the river and set out on foot through a maze of lanes guided by her gentle father. Though the lanes seemed clean, we were soon hit by swarms of flies. After a long walk we reached a tiny lane where a set of rooms stood in a row, Mehajabi’s
was the last one in the row. It was a tiny room where we were greeted by Mehajabi’s and her mother. Her brother played on the floor. A bed was the only piece of furniture. Clothes hung on a string attached to the wall and all the other belongings lay around.
We soon discovered that eleven persons lived in that tiny room. Mejabi’s grandparents, parents, two aunts and her 4 siblings. As we sat on the bed Rani nudged my elbow pointing at the door. It took me a few seconds to realise what she was showing me. The door opened on the wall that was a dirty orange colour that was the result of years of spitting pan (betel leaf). It was what this young woman had to stare at day after day as she went about doing her daily chores!
It was her room with a view.
Thankfully we were distracted by a chirping sound and looked down to see 8 to 10 chicks, some brightly coloured in pinks and greens. Mehajabi’s mom told us that she had got them for the children to play with as she could not afford toys. What hit me was that there was no anger, no resentment no bitterness; it was their life and they lived it in the best way they could. The young couple had shifted to the parents home when the little girl’s illness was detected as from that moment on all that mattered was her well being. The whole family had come together to ward off the crisis.
I was overwhelmed with a multitude of thoughts that sought answers I did not have. I felt anger, sadness and total helplessness and yet I also felt humbled by the courage and dignity I saw. After a few minutes we got up to leave but were asked to stay on. I had forgotten that this was India, a land where guests are always welcome and honoured. After a few minutes Mehajabi’s father came back with a bottle of Pepsi and two plastic cups. As I held on to my cup, I realised that what I had been offered was steeped in emotions I cannot describe, and was far more than a simple fizzy drink. I drank my cup to the last drop as that was the only befitting thing to do.
By that time little Mehajabi had adopted me and was busy playing with my face. She had walked into my heart just as her mother had. We left in silence humbled and moved by that experience. As we reached the three wheeler were Hare Ram our driver waited, I saw some whispering between the father and son-in-law. The young man was sent to the corner juice man and a glass of juice was brought for Hare Ram, who was also a guest.
After all this was India, the real one that many have forgotten.
click here to see mehajabi’s room with a view
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 3, 2007 | Uncategorized
How to sustain project why is a question that has been haunting me for some time now, I guess time waits for no one and the writing is on the wall! It is a question many have raised, some gently others even brutally. I must confess that I spend many hours thinking about valid options and reviewing past mistakes.
The list of ideas that did not work is daunting: we made candles, jewels, painted T shirts, pots and more of the same and sold them at charity bazaars. We gathered pongamia seeds from he numerous trees around, milled oil and made soaps; we made eco-friendly shopping bags; we even made chocolates but soon saw that none of these could ever bring us the funds required to run pwhy.
And as each idea failed, lessons were learnt. It became clear that we could not match the competition. Moreover the complex legislations related to some products like soaps and food items were wrought with red tape. And finally marketing any product required huge investment. The final blow was the sealing laws that put an end to any small business idea we may have had.
We had to find a minimum or no investment and high return option. That is when I stumbled upon the idea of the one -rupee-a day option. It seemed such a doable one as one thought that it would not be difficult to convince people to part with such a tiny sum. One become bold enough to believe that even the community would part with that tiny amount. But reality struck soon enough as one laboured on. People did not come forward. Or those who did, just did it once and forgot. And yet like you hold on to a special child, this option never left me though it did not bring the desired result.
Slowly planet why came to seed. And yet it again looked doable provided one found the funds to set it up. Many have warmed up to the idea but the investment is huge.
As I write these words I am reminded of the lyrics of a Neil Diamond song:
I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall.
I really don’t know life at all.
Somehow the sustainability options of planet why are two sides of a spectrum: either we find a huge number of people and ask them to part with a tiny amout of money over a long period of time, or we find a huge amout of money and create our own way of finding money.
Tht is the dilemena one faces!
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 2, 2007 | utpal
Utpal came home for a few hours on Sunday. It was the last Sunday of the month and normally one should have made the trip to his school and shared his lunch of beans and rice but the extreme heat made me change plans and have him come over instead.
We spent the morning preparing his favourite food and bought all the goodies he likes and is not allowed in school: the fizzy drinks, the spicy chips as well as a lot of fruit. Some of his toys were brought down from the attic and the cooler was switched on. The excitement was palpable as we all waited for him.
he came by at 1pm and at first stood shyly but moments later he was his adorable self and reclaimed his proprietary rights. He opened the fridge and took out some oranges. Son the house come alive with his laughter and endless prattle. All his extended family was there and he played to the gallery ensuring that no one felt left out.
The day flew by and soon it was time to leave. His face did fall a little and my heart missed several beats as it does each time I have to let my popples go. The proverbial coward, my pace slacked a little as he started to leave the house. He looked at me with his huge melting eyes and said : bahar tak too ajaho ( at least come till the gate).
I did sheepishly and with moist eyes…
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 2, 2007 | Uncategorized
Sapna, a real dream come true..
She come to us almost five years ago and f you drop by this page, this is part of what you will read:
She is four, has delayed milestones, as she cannot walk or talk. She came to us about two months ago. Listening to her story left us all stunned beyond words. Sapna’s father does not work. He is supposedly unwell, but spends his time gambling and abusing his wife. Sapna’s grandmother has a small tea stall, and Sapna’s mom, Bimla, spends her day washing the dirty utensils. At the end of the day, she gets some food, not always enough to feed Sapna and her small brother, let alone herself! We soon discovered that much of Sapna’s delayed milestones were due to malnutrition and neglect. Sapna joined the early education programme, and with the help of Gaelle, our physio-therapist volunteer, she has slowly started catching up.
Since Sapna has learnt to walk, talk a little, make friends, play, interact and much more. And though we know that she will never lead a normal life, each achievement of hers is cause for celebration.
Imagine my surprise when while downloading the day’s pictures to my camera I found this one. sapna having a whale of a time on the trampoline. To many it may seem innocuous as any 10 year old should be able to jump on a trampoline. But in sapna’s case it is nothing short of a miracle..
I do not even want to begin to imagine what her life would have been had she not come to phwy – thanks to utpal’s mom – . Sapna has never been liked by her father or her grandmother for whom sh is an impediment. Her mom does love her as mom’s do but can do scant else. In a land where social support is nonexistent her life seems doomed as she grows into a young woman.
It is for the likes of Sapna that planet why becomes imperative as it would giver her a fulfilling life tailored to her needs. That is why I know it will happen one day..
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 2, 2007 | Uncategorized
Four point five and dropping. This is no winter temperature chart but little Anil’s weight.
He underwent close heart surgery for the placement of a pulmonary artery (PA) Band till more surgery could be done when he was older and stronger.
Anil is 15 months old and his weight was 7 kilos before surgery. After the placement of his PA band something seemed to have gone wrong as his ribs looks displaced and his breathing awkward. Moreover he had given up food and is losing weight at a frightening pace. His mother has tried every trick in the book but to little or no avail.
The doctors at the Institute have washed their hands off by telling the young mother that his loss of appetite was not their concern.
All this makes us wonder whether something went terribly wrong and no one is taking responsibility.
With the terrible heat wave in the city dehydration lurks at every corner and Anil’s home is a tiny airless room with a tin roof!
We have asked Anil’s mom to bring him to the creche in the day and will try and feed him so that he starts putting on some weight and once again appeal to the god of lesser beings to guide us in the right direction.
If you read this post do send a prayer.
by Anuradha Bakshi | May 1, 2007 | Uncategorized
Was it only a year ago that I wrote about my worst fears in a post I entitled plastic fantastic lover. I have been watching in helpless horror the gleaming bikes and big cars that landed in the darkest lanes of the slums around us, courtesy a pyramid sales company promising an El Dorado t any one who joined them. I have watched with extreme sadness young people falling prey one after the other to this hoax, many leaving their studies midway, many our very own students. I have screamed myself hoarse trying to guard them from the pitfalls I could see. I have prayed hard for them to fall before it is too late. But the enemy was too formidable and the lollies to attractive.
Day after day more bikes, more cars, more white shirts and blank pants, more frenzy, more euphoria. The voices of reason were silenced and many even gloated at all that had been achieved.
I just sat silent wondering when the pyramid would crash, I sat silent asking myself how did one pick the pieces of broken dreams and shattered hope, how did one clean up after the storm has passed. My worst case scenario was huge debts leading to despair. And though the idea had seeded in my mind, nothing could prepare me for the news I heard this morning: one of the young kids had taken is own life this morning as he could not face the creditors knocking at his door and had no one to turn to for help. He was twenty one.
And as the story unfolded, all apprehensions and fears stood validated. Many young boys and girls were faced with huge debts. The dreams of early days now lay jaded. The careless freedom had taken its toll as many girls lost their way in a world they could not master. Some of the ring leaders were faced with lawsuits and had gone in hiding. Reality had caught up with these misguided children who had no one to turn to.
My mind went back to the innumerable posts I had written about my fears. My mind went back to some hate mails I got where young people lauded the work of MLM. I kept some of them and paste one here as it was sent to me without editing :
myself ebizzer amit
ebiz.com (p) ltd
The power of right decision
ebiz become the best network marketing company of the world by touching millions of people around the world by essential komputer eduction, quality produts and service at vrey reasonble and offardable costs, to help them achieve financial freedom.
I have nothing to say as these words spek for themselves. I just hope and pray that no other life will have to be lost.
