by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 4, 2007 | lohars
Yesterday I dropped by my Lohar (gypsy)friends. My conditioned being expected to be greeted by long and sad faces as their homes had been raised to the ground just a few hours before that.
My heart did miss a beat as I alighted from my three wheeler and saw them all sitting in front of their erstwhile homes, their belongings strews all over. However as they saw me their faces lit up in the customary huge smile as many ladies came and hugged me
As we walked towards the space where our classroom was, I was amazed to see that in front of each ‘home’ the fire was lit, the tools laid out and men and women at work. Every faced smiled and someone ran to get the two new members of the clan: little Tania (3 months) and tiny Sagar (1month). The class was as full as ever and every child eager to show off. It seemed that barring the fact that roof and walls had gone, life was still on!
This has been the place where these 30 odd families have lived for over 25 years. I wonder what our reaction would be if someone broke the walls of our home and took our roof off! Gypsies are known for their resilience but what I saw today was more than that, it was a free spirit that refused to give up, a mind where fear had no place. They had perfected the art of zen survival.
As I walked back I was reminded of Tagore poem:
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action—
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
Here where a bunch of people who held their head high, we are the ones who let them down.
Note: there are 1000 odd gadiya lohar familes who have lived in Delhi since the fifties. they were promised relocation that they never got. They however were given voter’s ID cards.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 4, 2007 | Uncategorized
In today’s world many of us have mastered the art of living according to rules and regulations, our lives carefully divided into little boxes and our reactions dictated by directives that are proved and tested by scientific means.
So when in this world a doctor and a hospital inform us that a child;s kidneys are not functioning and that he is severely anemic, the relevant little box of our mind sends the message that his days are counted. And you set out counting the days!
But then to your utter dismay, nothing seems to be following the pattern as the child perks up and starts smiling again till one day you find him at the door of his classroom. And days follow days as you train your mind to forget what was written on that hospital sheet.
Our little Nanhe is back in a class and eager to participate in every activity. So yesterday when his friend Heather dropped by Nanhe not only danced but partook of the treat she offered: his favourite samosa.
Now did I not read somewhere of that forgotten hospital sheet: diet light, no fried food..
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 2, 2007 | lohars
A class is in progress in the
Lohar camp. The camp has over 40 shanties along a main road. It has been in existence for over 25 years and even has a name and postal address. Most of its 250 odd inhabitants, all
gadiya lohars – iron smith gypsies – have voter ID cards. It is reasonable to say that they have a civic identity. There are over 90 such camps across the city some in existence for more than 50 years.
These 1000 odd families stopped wandering and settled in Delhi over half a century ago. Their abode remained shanties along side roads where one often sees them beating the iron and selling their ware.
We began our classes in this camp more than five years ago.Since we have witnessed many a demolition that seem to take place with regularity. The next day the shanties are rebuilt after a few palms are greased.
Nomadic tribes were promised relocation at the time of India’s Independence. We even found some official looking papers to prove that some semblance of resettlement had been initiated. WE helped the lohars file a writ petition in the high court and brought the plight of these lesser citizens to the NHRC. But as proceedings dragged the lohars got weary and lost interest or sunk back into the legendary resilience of nomads.
A few hours after this picture was taken the camp again demolished. This time the authorities did not spare us either but left with the usual: kal phir banalena – you can rebuild it tomorrow-! But we know that this cat and mouse game cannot continue for much longer as this camp comes in the way of the Delhi Metro project and the day is not far when our lohars will lose their shelter.
The future of these proud people we have learnt to love and admire is in danger. More than any of the migrants who have been given shelter or relocated over the years, these 1000 families need to have their basic constitutional rights restored in a city the made theirs much before others. However we fear that once again they will remain invisible and their voices unheard.
The picture above was one of the class yesterday; this is the same class today
Note: this camp has been in existence in this very place for over 25 years! Our classes began five years ago
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 1, 2007 | Uncategorized
This is a picture of the morning after a wedding party in our street. Yesterday as is customary in our city, tents came up, the street was blocked and the paraphernalia needed, set in place.
This morning we saw the aftermath: large quantities of wasted food, and mounds of plastic ware.
The venue: gali no 3 govindpuri.
Such sites are so common in the densely populated areas of our cities and in the many urban slums that we have become inured to them. But today the site of so much wasted food was extremely disturbing for was it not just a week ago that a TV channel ran a series of programmes on hunger in India. The startling figures came to mind: of the 16 crore of children under six, 6 crore live below the poverty line!
We have all been to wedding parties and witnessed wastage of sorts. But somehow the site of large quantities of food lying on the street was unsettling. Food has always been respected in India and even deified. To see it walked upon and trampled was almost blasphemous and raised many questions.
What made normally god fearing and tradition abiding people act with such disregard? Normally in rural India, wastage is negligible if not non-existent. Even peelings are fed to the domestic cattle or left in a safe place for birds. What was even ore perturbing was that this was not happening in the shining India, but on the other side of the fence, one where people still live in want and debt.
Does the journey from village to city make one lose so much; does the label of urban entail adopting all urban ways, even the bad ones? And above all how does one instill in children born in urban slums lost values when what they see is the exact opposite?
Young children are endowed with an intuitive common sense that is unfortunately lost down growing up lane. Young Kiran, age 6, was with me when we took this picture. Her quiet words echoed my feelings when she simply stated: why did they not give this food to the cows.
Yes little girl, to the cows or to one of the million of children that sleep hungry every night.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 1, 2007 | common school
One is often so engrossed in the now, that one forgets to delve into the realm of the after. Yet unless we take time to do that, we may remain frozen in time.
Spiritual masters often ask us to visualise the future if we want to see it realised. I guess there is some truth in that. We have many nows in our lives, each pertinent to a particular field of our activities and each requiring its own visualisation.
Maybe it is time for me to assess the now of pwhy and make some projections. Let us consider this instant as ground zero and dream a little.
A bunch of children of all ages and sizes were brought together under the pwhy aegis a few years ago with the sole purpose of trying to better their tomorrows. The first task was to keep them in school as education was often hailed as a panacea to all ills. We set about this task and completed it with success. Somewhere down the line we realised that what was offered as education was in no way going to make a difference to these young lives as much more was needed. So we set about qualifying and quantifying the missing elements or defining the true ground zero.
One common factor linked all our children: they belonged to an urban slum. That sole factor dictated the quality of their lives: poor habitat, bad education, abysmal medical health facilities, few employment options one one side and great expectations fuelled by urban dreams on the other. To lace it all a feudal attitude vis-a-vis those in power.
The fact is that most of what is mentioned – habitat, school etc – has fallen into this state of despair because existing government programmes have been hijacked down the road. And as the end beneficiary are often kept in the dark, no one is ever able to redress the torts.
Hence if we look ahead from ground zero and allow ourselves to dream a little what we see is a day when people will be in a position to ask for all that is rightfully theirs and has been lost in transition. We tend to forget or maybe do not give enough importance to the tools that we have been given. I refer to the Right to Information Act that enables every Indian to seek redressal for a few rupees.
If that day is to dawn, then one needs to empower people and teach them responsibility. And the only way to do that is to catch them young. It has now become imperative for us at pwhy to move beyond the books and curriculum and teach our children the art of being a citizen.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 30, 2007 | ghaziabad girls, noida children, two indias
A short news item aired yesterday showed relatives of children killed in Noida by serial killers blocking a road and protesting the slow pace of the probe.
My mind travels back to the week where the whole nation watched the nightmare of NOIDA unfold. Rewind to a few weeks earlier and one’s thoughts go to the plight of the 50 odd Ghaziabad orphanage girls waiting to be released while their abuser smirked on.
Somehow the girls seem lost in some incomprehensible labyrinth of justice and bureaucracy that mere mortals cannot reach. The mind races back to the time when one could visit them in spite of the harrowing presence of their abuser, and bring them a few moments of solace.
Now one just sits helpless and lost.
Recently we experienced the deafening furore of Ms Shetty and her tryst with the celebrity big brother. The racist remarks ultimately paid. Few months ago Jessica and Priyardhasini got the much awaited justice when voices took on their case. But those voices belonged to well educated, English speaking upmarket people and hence they were heard. They belonged to the right India, as did those that ensured that little Anant return home safely!
The Ghaziabad girls and the Nithari children do not have that luck. The voices heard yesterday were not the right ones.
Let us not forget that the true perpetrator of the crimes against the Nithari children was not the predator but the police and the administration. Today again it seems that the same game is being played.
In a few days or weeks, the tired parents will have to go back to the task of surviving and even these feeble voices will die out.
I had feared this would happen and hoped that we would see the writing on the wall and do something. My fear has been confirmed, my hope shattered.
Many heralded 2006 as the year of the rise of civil society, maybe one should add a rider: it only words in one India, the other remains unchanged.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 29, 2007 | Uncategorized
Nanhe is back. And the smile too!
Everyone was stunned as he entered the class in Sitaram’s arms. Moments later a palpable excitement prevailed in the classroom as his little buddies set about to greet their long lost pal.
All else was forgotten: Anurag stopped jumping, Umesh stopped whining and even Shalu stopped complaining. Little Sapna came alive, Himashu smiled and Manu forgot his swollen gums and quietly handed over his puzzle.
No words were needed for his pals to understand that Nanhe had come back from very far and that this was a very special moment. Had not Nanhe defeated all logic and all medical prognostics, was he not the one who had chronic renal failure and severe anemia.
We watched him in awe as we could sense the strength of his spirit soaring high and my thoughts went to Daisaku Ikeda’s words: Human life is indeed wondrous. You may be ill physically, but as long as your mental state is strong, it most certainly will exert a positive influence on your body. there may be no better remedy than hope.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 29, 2007 | utpal
When Utpal walked into the gate of his brand new school he was making a tryst with destiny.
He would one day walk out of that gate and take on the world.
I have often let my imagination run wild and imagine what he would become: a conventional doctor or a hot shot choreographer.. any one’s guess I suppose.
yesterday we spent the day with him in his school and as we lazed around in the balmy winter day, he took my camera and started shooting pictures. He went done on a knee, took time and shot a series of pictures. He shot his buddies, his pals in the kitchen, some of us and even took some shots of flowers and trees. You can see them here.
Quite frankly they are not bad.. and some could even make it to a competition.
I watched this little chap and once again marveled at the incredible journey this little chap has made in the last 4 years: from a searing frying pan to a boarding school. At moments like these you can only say Chapeau Bas – hats off – to mr godJi and his incredible talent!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 28, 2007 | Uncategorized
Last week nanhe was discharged from hospital. The discharge slip read: hemoglogin:3.2, BP not detecteable, chronic renal failure. A dismal prognostic to say the least.
When consulted all medico friends confirmed our fears.
Nanhe is special and his smile has made us weather many a storm. Not knowing what to do as no conventional options were possible, I shared my angst with many friends. Many messages of love and support poured in, and many sent healing in various forms.
The days went by and defying all norms, Nanhe held on and two days back he delighted us with a huge smile. For that one moment time stopped. That smile was nothing short of a miracle.
I recalled Deepak Chopra’s words: Miracles happen every day. Not just in remote country villages or at holy sites halfway across the globe, but here, in our own lives, and wondered as to what message that smile held.
Time has stopped for that moment indeed, but reality hit us soon after. Nothing had changed actually: nanhe was still that very special child who could never stand on his own, his mother was still that poor widow with three more challenged children and his tomorrows look as bleak as ever.
Yet his holding on despite all odds could not be without purpose.
I remember nanhe’s last day in class, when he played mentor to young Himanshu. I also recall the innumerable times when his smile has wiped away many a doubt and lifted my sagging courage. I recollect the number of people around the globe who have warmed up to this special child and who have prayed for him over and over again.
How can one forget the often illogical yet passionate strength of a mother’s love. Nanhe’s mom has been a perfect example of that, not giving up one bit but doggedly carrying on, carting her child to the hospital, pleading with doctors and getting for her child more than one could hope for.
Nanhe lives and even smiles. I guess somewhere we are blessed to be able to still have this child with us.
These are moments where logic and reason fail, and only wonder remains.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 26, 2007 | reservations
Final exams are just little over a month away and all pwhy kids are busy revising. Government schools held their usual end of term exams in December and we all waited for the results to help us structure our revision programme.
When no result was forthcoming by mid January, we asked the children to find out from their class teachers when these would be available. The next day, little Jyoti from our Govindpuri section came back telling us that she had been slapped by her teacher for having dared ask! We were ready to go and meet the teacher in question but were stopped by the children. Their scared eyes spoke volumes. They knew that our visit would result in more unwarranted abuse.
In another school, children were told that the papers had not been checked as schools had been closed for a few days because of the severe cold. In yet another school, answer sheet lay strewn on the floor at the mercy of rodents.
All in all, we could only gather half of the results.
This is but another example of the state of municipal and government schools. It is a cause of worry as marks of each terminal exam are included in the finals. We were also told that if a child has 75% attendance he automatically passes into the nest class. No wonder than that there are kids in class V who are unable to read or write. They will swell the ranks of drop outs as they reach class VI!
Almost everyday one can find some news item or the other about the abysmal state of government schools in the capital: no toilets, no drinking water, no classrooms, no teachers…One of the reasons for this deplorable situation is undoubtedly the lack of a literate and empowered parents’ group. With the proliferation of shady small teaching shops a.k.a. public schools, only the poorest of the poor land in municipal schools. They simply sit on the benches – or floor – marking time till they exit the school in class V. many will never make it further.
There is something extremely lopsided or insidious about the various policies for the poor. One startling example is the reservation policy in higher education. With the present state of primary education no deserving candidate can ever make it to the portals of an engineering college or medical school. It is only when we clean up the state of primary education that a tangible change can begin to happen.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 26, 2007 | reservations
All over India celebrations are on today. Flag hoisting and parades, people cheering and waving flags everything is on cue to mark the 57th anniversary of our Republic. How many of us are truly aware of the meaning of this day?
Somehow the essence of the constitution got lost along the years and what remained is the pomp and display associated with it.
Of all our centre there is one that never fails in its celebrations of our republic our Independence days. Every 26/1 and 15/8 the children of the Okhla centre organise a show. They hoist the flag, sing the national anthem and some patriotic songs and then delight us with the never to be missed bollywood numbers. This year they even had a play and their on gandhiji!
It is with pride and a tinge of sadness that I watch these children. As they remember the day that saw our constitution come into force, I cannot but think about how little of what was promised to them 57 years ago, has actually come their way. It seems as one part of India was conveniently cast aside along the way.
Most of these kids belong to some reserved category or the other but none is aware of what reservation means. They go to poorly run schools from where many drop out. They die for want of medical care. Their morrows are often hijacked by some predator or the other and they soon find themselves on the wrong side of the law. And often they go to sleep hungry.
And yet on these special days all is forgotten as they celebrate being Indians.
This year the President chose to mention crime against children in his R Day address. He was of course referring to cases like Nithari. But there is a more insidious crime tat we are all guilty of, one that is invisible and almost intangible. That of having let down a whole slice of India denying them the basic rights that were meant to be for all Indians.
The children of Okhla did not forget the importance of this day; in their eyes lies a question that needs to be answered: why have they been forgotten them.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 25, 2007 | two indias
50 odd years ago a group of people huddled together to draft a constitution whereby every Indian that had been freed from its colonial master would be protected and given equal opportunities and access to resources. Its preamble resolved to secure for all its citizens:
JUSTICE, social, economic and political;
LIBERTY of thought, expression, belief, faith and worship;
EQUALITY of status and of opportunity;
and to promote among them all
FRATERNITY assuring the dignity of the individual and the unity and integrity of the Nation.
The constitution was to reflect Gandhi’s vision of “…an India in which the poorest shall feel that it is their country in whose making they have an effective voice; …an India in which all communities shall leave I perfect harmony. . Woman will enjoy as the same rights as man.”
On 26th January we will be celebrating our 57th republic day with the usual pomp and parade. And yet a news channel chose to herald the week with a chilling series entitled the Republic 0f Hunger.
Justice, liberty, equality , fraternity seem very empty words in a land where over 30 % of our children go to sleep hungry. And that is not all that has gone awry, every dream and aspiration enshrined in our constitution has been shattered.
If we look at the reality that surrounds us we find none of the four pillars of our constitution. there is no justice, equality, liberty or fraternity, or if there is, it is only for a chosen few. It seems we have ensured that exact opposite.
Justice is denied to the poor who enjoys no liberty, equality and least of all fraternity. They remain voiceless and subservient to a new set of masters who enjoy all the spoils. Events in the recent past have proved this more than once: be it the callous attitude of the police in the Nithari case, or the murder and rape of two poor parents looking to save an ailing child, or a little child losing her fingers for a handful of spinach.
Over the years we have perfected the art of dividing in a way that surpasses Manu. Today’s India is fractured in a million pieces: we have castes within castes, and more. Our political masters ensure we do not forget this. Even children talk that language today.
50 years after our freedom for British rule, the benchmark of success remains how well you speak English and how much money you have! Instead of equality you have two distinct Indias : one that shines, and the other that lives in darkness. The lines that divides the two may look invisible but is impregnable.
60 million children do not get a square meal a day, this after 60 years of freedom. What is frightening is that no one seems to care. They become statistics that fuel new causes to espouse, numbers that will help accede to more international funds and good copy for the media.
As more programmes and projects are set up to tackle these issues, new found ways to siphon funds multiply. It is sad but true: our colonial masters have now been replaced by masters of corruption, the new found mantra that permetaes avery aspect of our existence.
60 years of indepedence and what stares at us is an India divided in two, in every which way possible. Be it education, medicare, housing or any other basic need, things are not the same depending on which side of the fence you were born.
So as we celebrate our 57th republic day, maybe one stop and reflect on the meaning of a Constitution meant for all Indians and ask ourselves what went wrong, and how we can begin to undo the torts.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 20, 2007 | Uncategorized
“Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk.
It is walking toward me, without hurrying.”
Jean Cocteau
Nanhe lies on a hospital bed, his body wasted, his smile lost forever, his searing pain now borne with a silence more deafening than any cry. The men in white have given up, even his mom’s once indomitable will is now faltering.
There is no talk of elusive kidneys made in america. Even silent petitions to the gods have lost their fervour. And never have Cocteau’s words been so apropos!
But is it not blasphemous to wish that death hastens its pace, particularly when the life at stake is that of a child? Nevertheless I do not feel any sacrilege as I sit hoping that the healing kiss of death brushes Nanhe’s brow and free his exhausted spirit.
Nanhe is what we call a special child. In the game of survival, he was dealt a losing hand. He never learnt to speak, or walk; he never mastered the art of fighting for his rights and hurting others. He just accepted what he was given and rewarded you with his incredible smile. We slowly got addicted to that smile. In it we saw a reflection of everything we seek but never find, and above all the much needed hope to carry on when all seemed to tell us to stop.
Many years back, a friend had told me that special children were god’s special angels sent to earth to help us redeem ourselves. Today I wonder where our redemption lies.
The hospital just gave up and sent him home with a string of empty words: Let him go home, feed him, care for him… and many unsaid ones. So his mom gathered the broken swollen incontinent body in her arms and took him home.
Nanhe’s home is a a tiny airless room where a bed hogs all the place and yet it is where he has lived all his life. It is the place where he has shared with his family and felt safe in. Maybe today it will bring him some peace.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 19, 2007 | Uncategorized
I have been holding to my ‘pen’ for the last few days for fear of being branded the proverbial carper. But doing so longer would be going against my own grain.
For the past few days or more we have been subjected to a string of national news headlines about celebrities ranging from a marriage announcement to a racial debate. The later seems to fall a little flat as the persona in action chose to be part of a reality show known for getting people to put their worst foot forward in public, not to forget that the said actress was paid a huge amount to be part of that show!
Talk shows, parliamentary debates, burnt effigies, political mileage, the reaction cocktail is heady. It is a well known fact that the media plays up what pays and increases TRP ratings. What it means is that an issue like the Shilpa story is one that titillates us and hence sells.
So let us ask ourselves why such a story sells: is it the star gazer in us that is stimulated, or the atavist colonial past that we have not shed. For it is quite obvious that those burning effigies in the remotest part of our land are probably not aware of the Big Brother show. Or was it a too good to let go story that served many unscrupulous masters.
Many questions come to mind. Is such a public outcry a refelection of our society and if so, then are we only sensitive to what happens to stars? Strange that we should be so angry at remarks made on a voyeuristic show when we ourselves live in a fractured society and indulge in divisive remarks on caste, creed and social origin? We have been sadly reminded of his reality in the recent past with the Nithari case where even the lawmakers played the game with impunity.
Sadly even our social conscience seems to follow the pattern and is louder when the cause to defend is glamorous. Come to think about it, what will all this hue and cry lead to: probably more popularity for the show and the lady, till someone comes up with another show and another star.
Racism exists and often it is something that is fuelled by vested interest in search of causes to espouse, and as long as we react in such a violent way, more such causes will be unearthed and nurtured. Here again the ball is in our court and the responsibility ours, but looks like no one is listening.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 17, 2007 | two indias
It is amazing how the micro and the macro level of every occurrence appear almost simultaneously.
In a recent blog, I had recounted the trials and tribulations of our very own Nanhe’s mom who had been told by some hassled medico to go get a kidney if she wanted to save her son! As any desperate mother she heard only what she wanted to and set out on her search. The predator was lurking in the garb of a caring uncle who assessing her worth fixed 17 000 as the price of a kidney made in america.
We were still in the midst of trying to find a solution whereby a mother’s love would be satisfied and a child given the best treatment available, when the tsunami survivors tale hit the press. Now needless to say that the kidney bought from someone belonging to one side of the fence would give life to someone from the other or even to someone from other lands as today medical tourism is here to stay! The tale of two Indias unfolds again. A father steals a hammer to give medical treatment to his aling child and is killed for it; a woman sells her kidney to pay her husband’s medical bill: the stories go and on, each one more desperate, each one urging us to take notice and do something.
The something I agree is elusive and probably still indefinable, but one thing is certain: we have to bridge the gap that is growing by the minute and may soon become an abyss we will unable to come out of.
What we dismiss as the poor are not living on some other planet but standing at our very doorstep. The rising number of urban migrants are a proof of that. They come with their dreams and aspirations, dreams that are fuelled by the same images as ours thanks to the communication revolutions that has put a TV screen in the tiniest of shanties. Set top boxes are being sold faster than anything else in urban slums today.
Half baked education is dangerous as it can lead to dramatic misinterpretations, and as in the case of nanhe’s mom, logic and reasoning are useless weapons to counter that. Third rate education, the kind where 33% get you the coveted certificate only leads to frustration and anger waiting to manifest itself.
We are witness to many micro solutions whereby help pours in when an individual case is reported. But here again we need to retrospect about the reason for such outpour. As long as it stems out of charity, compassion and sympathy it will always fall short.
Something much deeper and radical needs to be done, something that lives beyond the images that splash the screens. Something that actually needs to change us before we attempt to change the world.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 15, 2007 | Uncategorized
A candlelight vigil was held last night for the Nithari children.
It was held at the same place where just a few months back the tout delhi was present in force, led by the urban middle class and the youth fuelled by images of Rang de Basanti, to fight for justice for Jessica and Priyadarshini. The vigil was widely covered by the media in live broadcasts.
Yesterday’s vigil went unnoticed.
Just a handful of people were there: the bereaved families and a few others. It did not even make it to the front page. An article on page 3 stated simply: Public zeal missing from Nihari protest!
A chill went down my back bringing to my mind almost apocalyptic images of the future.. People power had also succumbed to the great divide. We had failed to recognise the writing on the wall. Did we feel that such incidents could never happen to us and hence we did not need to act? Did we just feel safe in our urban middle class reality?
There are many disturbing questions that come to mind, questions we just push away as they would require us to look into ourselves and compel us to take responsibilty. So we simply wash our hands off and look away hoping that some plausible answer will be found soon and allow us to carry on till the next incident.
I am in the game of changing lives. A path I chose to walk because I felt I had a debt to pay. In the last seven years I have had to revise this larger than life attitude and come face to face with reality. Changing lives or crossing the great divide is in no way an act of charity. It is simply investing in your own future, a future where we cannot wish away those who live on the other side.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 12, 2007 | reservations
Bharti Dhondge is a name that rings no bells and yet she will go down in history as the woman who became corporator for a day in the Municipal Corporation of Bombay! It took this woman five years to fight and win a legal battle whereby she challenged the validity of the caste certificate of her opponent. She won a day before new elections were declared, hence the one-day-crown. She now hopes to get a ticket from her party but that is another story.
To may this might seem a irrelevant incident but in fact it is not as it questions the whole matter of caste certificates. In a recent socio economic survey of pwhy we realised that over 80% of our kids belong to some reserved categories or the other. Needless to say not one has the required document to prove it and most of them are actually embarrassed and even aggressive when asked to spell out their caste.
Something is not wrong in a land where the politics of reservation has been heralded as pro poor and held as harbinger of justice for all. It does not take a rocket scientist to conclude that its success depends on ensuring that each and everyone falling within the category should be in possession of the required proof of his or her identity. It would seem logical that the onus of giving id proofs should lie with the law makers and enforcers themselves.
Nothing is farther away from reality as we discovered lately. Obtaining a simple caste certificate is a herculean task. Actually it s an impossible one. The powers that be have ensured that. No simple, unconnected, poor individual can meet the complex prerequisites. Where will the poor should find two class I gazetted officers willing to sign his form?
On the other hand, getting a fake certificate seems to be much easier as is proved by the Bharti Dhonge case. All you need is to know the right person and have sufficient funds to pay the price.
For the policy like the reservation policy to be relevant, the sine qua non condition has to be the issuance of documentary evidence by the state to each and every person falling within that category. Anything short of that is suspect.
One can now understand why our political masters insist upon not excluding the creamy layer. Were that to be, there would be no takers left for the reservations goodies!
Once again this brings to fore the fact that to redress many of the problems that plague our society, it is necessary to take the bull by the horns. In this case rather than demonstrate on the streets and only give more fuel to the politicians to divide society, maybe one should start a campaign to ensure that caste and class identity are issued to each and every one and empower the have nots to stand in line for every benefit doled out.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 11, 2007 | Uncategorized
On April 13 the 2003, little Rohan and Puja never went back home. They had gone to the nearby temple as they did every evening. That day some predator was lurking with his diabolical agenda.
Two days later their bodies were found in the sluice gate of the okhla barrage. A little shoe was discovered later next to an open drain in a nearby wooded area, a place no child their age could have reached on their own.
Rohan and Puja were pwhy kids.
I had to move heaven and earth to convince the local police that the children had not just gone off in the dead of the night, crossed dangerous streets and walked in lonely spaces to find the open drain where their death beckoned. I had to use my persuasive skills, my contacts and every ruse in my book to get the FIR lodged under the right IPC sections. I got my share of threats, bullying and intimidating but held on.
The post mortem report not surprisingly did not mention the bruises and cuts but a staid death by drowning. The case was never solved. The family was suitably brow beaten and little Puja and Rohan became simple annoying statistics.
Why were these beautiful children kidnapped and then killed is any one’s guess. Some dark ritual, sexual depravation or personal enmity… no one really cared. Rohan and Puja belonged to the other side of the fence were children are dispensable commodities. For the parents there was never a closure. They just got on with the task of surviving, their grief visible in the few extra grey hair and defeated look of the fathers and the drawn faces and the sad eyes of the mothers. Even the birth of little Nidhi could not bring the required healing.
The last weeks has brought to fore the chilling reality of the number of children that are missing and the fate that many have met. Wonder how many lie dead hidden somewhere yet to be stumbled upon. Wonder also how many could have been saved had the law makers and protectors done their job with a modicum of honesty.
It is time for us to stop and think about what we can do to change things and ensure that tender lives like tat of Rohan and Puja, like that of the children of Nithari or the ones found in the Punjab mill are not in vain.
