by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 23, 2011 | Uncategorized
 |
| Manu and Father Xmas |
Xmas is around the corner. The children of our special class are busy decorating their tree.
Xmas has always been festive time in the special section. A time for joy and cheer. A time for goodies and presents, a time of laughter and giggles. Every year the children trim their tree with love and care, each one making a unique ornament and hanging it. How can I forget the time when Munna decided to hang a simple white sock. Somehow that sock looked just right! Yet this year it will not be quite the same. Manu is no more be with us.
I can never forget the Xmas when Santa came to town. It was pure magic. Each and everyone had his or her special moment with Santa. Manu did too. I still wonder what the two of them shared but I am sure it was something incredibly precious.
To me Manu epitomized the spirit of Xmas as his existence was nothing short of a miracle. It was the indubitable proof that every human life, no matter how wretched, is to be cherished and celebrated as every life has been crafted with a purpose that needs to be discovered. Manu’s was to seed project why! How blessed he was, and how blessed was I to have stumbled upon him. He became the spirit of pwhy and my inner strength. When he was around nothing was impossible.
This Xmas my thoughts go to him, to all that remained unsaid because I felt there was enough time, that he would always be there with us. Did I ever expressed the immense gratitude I felt for all that Manu gave me. I do not think so. Perhaps it is only after he left for a better world that I truly realised all that he had bestowed upon me. With him around it was Xmas everyday! There was not a single day when I was not treated to one of Manu’s special smiles. Even if he was in a bad mood, and that happened quite often, the moment I walked in his face would light up. On better days he would ask me to come near him. He would sometimes gently touch my face or tap the space next to him asking me to sit. And my heart would melt and tears well in my eyes. If he was eating, he would immediately hold out his hand and share his treat. I can never forget the first time he did that, way back in 2000. It was a very privileged and blessed moment for the both of us.
Yes I owe a lot to Manu and it is time I expressed it with the hope that wherever he is, he will find the time to stop and hear me. Manu gave a purpose to my life. He made me discover a part of me I did not know existed. He gave me strength to take on impossible challenges and fulfill them, he made my most far fetched dreams possible, even the one of giving him a home till death did us part. He actually made this happen far too soon. Sometimes I feel he was an angel sent by the God of Lesser beings to hold my hand and show me the way. How do you pay such a debt of gratitude.
Manu was to me what the fox was to the Little Prince. He taught me the true meaning of ‘seeing with your heart’, a lesson engraved in my soul forever. From the instant I met him, my life was never the same: it has been gently infused by all that is good and pure. Manu was a saintly soul and I fortunate to have loved him.
His legacy is huge and sacred. I hope I am able to honour his memory in every way possible. This Xmas I feel his presence around me. It is time to murmur the ‘thank you’ that remained far too long in my heart.
Merry Xmas!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 14, 2011 | Uncategorized
I have just experienced one of the most difficult day in my entire existence. It was the day I had to sound the first stroke of the death knell of one of our classes. For the past weeks and even months the sword of Damocles has been hanging on my head. The precarious condition of our funds has been such that the inevitable had to happen. All pleas and entreaties fell on deaf years. Maybe I cried wolf too many times and was not believed.
It is true that all looked well to one and all. Yes project why ran like a clockwork orange and delivered its promises as hoped. The only one who knew the reality behind the scenes was me. For the past year I had been juggling numbers to keep afloat. Yet I knew that it would not be possible to do so forever and that it was time to see the writing on the wall. We had to see reason and make the needed adjustments. I know many will ask why we allowed ourselves to grow beyond our means. It is a very valid query. However the answer is complex. Our growth has always been organic and stemmed out of real needs. And each need was always sustained by our supporters. Hence one of the reason for our crisis is the last moment withdrawal of committed support. A real case of force majeure! Yet this is not the first time we have faced such a dilemma. When such a situation occurred I always managed to find alternatives though it was difficult. Today I have grown older and cannot muster the energy needed to make this option good. Moreover our inability to secure funding for our sustainability plan has made it imperative to garner all efforts to find a plan B. So to cut things short, we need to make some savings for want of a better word.
Reason decreed that the ones to go would be the babies. Sounds terrible and brutal, doesn’t it? But somehow it meets all the criteria of reason. Our early education programme was started because we felt that the toddlers needed to be cared for and have a safe enabling environment to grow and learn, particularly as the 0 to 6 are out of the ambit of free education in India. Actually the creche was one of the first programmes we started way back in 2001. All was on course in the initial years as project why was small and in one neighborhood so the kids could move from one class to another. I can never forget the days when we taught under a huge tent in a reclaimed pig park and all classes were under one big yellow plastic tent. But then the Gods got jealous and courtesy wily politicos and their scheming alter egos – small officials – our tent was bulldozed and project why got scattered. Today the creche has the most adorable children but sadly a large chunk of them come from a far away slum where we have no primary outreach. The rest come from better homes from the area where we are located. This results in our losing most of the children once they have completed their 2 or 3 years with us. The former resume roaming the streets as their parents do not get them admitted in school, and the later go to better schools. They never become project why alumni!
So the moment one has to start contemplating a cut in pwhy, they seem to be the most logical ones to chose. Never mind if they are the most assiduous, the most endearing and the most innocent. Never mind if they have been Agastya’s classmates for many many months. Never mind if they have the most endearing eyes or the infectious smile. They are the ones the sword has fallen on and they will have to go. And all this because a old biddy was unable to walk that extra step and save them.
I cannot begin to describe what is going on my mind. Words are too paltry to convey the emotions and pain I am feeling. The countdown has begun and soon the day will dawn when these lovely souls will take their last autorickshaw ride back to their homes. Will I have the courage to stand and wave them goodbye for the final time knowing in my heart that I am sending them back to the streets. Or will I hide in a hole and weep. Will I ever have the courage to ever look at myself in the mirror and like what I see. Will I be able to live with the guilt of having broken the dreams of these innocent souls. I do not know.
I shared this with a dear friend and all she could say was ‘who will hold your hand’. The answer is ‘no one I guess’. This cross is for me to bear alone so help me God!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 9, 2011 | Uncategorized
Hope you’re doing fine..I didn’t see any blog posts from you wrote a dear friend. Are you OK? You haven’t updated your blog wrote another. No I am not OK! And I am not talking of the few aches and pains, they come and go and have never had the ability to make me lose my spirit. I am not OK because in spite of my best efforts I will soon have to put planet why to rest. I am not OK because I have been unable to raise the missing numbers we need to run and have to decide which part of pwhy will have to be closed down as the new year dawns. I am not OK because I feel I am letting down those I love most and who have given me more than I could ever have dreamt of. I am not OK because I feel the God of Lesser beings has finally stopped smiling at me.
It is true that for the past weeks my virtual pen has remained silent. It is not easy to share failure. My mind is bursting with images and thoughts I can barely control. Images of happy days gone by but also dark images of the days to come. Which children will be sacrificed, which teachers will lose their small yet critical jobs. Why was I not able to keep my ship afloat. Where did I go wrong.
The future of project why looks bleak. Once upon not so long ago I was tormented by the question: what will happen to pwhy after me? I thought I had come up with a wow solution – namely planet why – a solution filled with optimism and cheer. For some time everything seemed on track barring a few glitches. We managed the land, a sustainability report that was brighter than expected, a beautiful eco friendly model. All that was needed was the money. Yet in spite of promises and our best efforts we were unable to raise the needed funds. But we still did lose heart and were confident of coming up with an alternative sooner than later. I was still OK.
The crunch came some days back when it was time to plan the coming year’s funding. There was a huge gap. Many of our regular donors had backed out; the reasons were numerous I guess though no one ever admits them: economic crunch, donor fatigue, new options. Your guess is as good as mine. We too were at fault one must admit. Had we not once again sunk into comfort zones thinking that all would remain unchanged. No point in crying over spilled milk. The reality is that things are bleak and one has to take some drastic steps. Part of
pwhy will have to go. But who?
I have spent sleepless nights wondering just that. It is like Sophie’s choice. Which child of yours do you execute? How do you go about making such a decision. Do you apply logic or reason when all that matters is the heart? I do not know. As I lie awake I try and imagine the almost apocalyptic scenario I will need to write. Logic says ‘close the creche’, most of children come from a slum where we do not have any primary programme and thus ‘lose’ the kids after the 2 or 3 years they spend with us. Easily said. But the moment I visualise this option I see all the little faces and huge eyes that greet me every morning with a smile that warms the cockles of my heart and makes all problems vanish. The smiles mutate into incomprehension and then hurt and I break up in a cold sweat. Logic says ‘close the special section; it is the least cost effective’. Easily said again. But the moment I allow myself to wander that way Manu’s gentle face appears in front of me and I am reminded of the silent promise to him and his ilk. Wasn’t I the one who pledged a life and death with dignity to those rejected by all.
The tussle between logic and heart goes on relentlessly. Logic says ‘cut the project in half’, the heart retorts which children and teachers will you sacrifice. Whose dreams will you fulfill? Whose job will you save? The questions are merciless, unending and terrifying.
Morning always dawns after such nights. Reality bites again. The situation remains unchanged. The missing numbers loom large. How will we get through this month, and the next and the next. Something will have to be done, sooner than later unless a miracle comes our way. But will it?
No, I am not OK!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Nov 27, 2011 | Uncategorized
Two unrelated incidents occurred yesterday. They were in no way linked but somehow painted a graphic image of India. The first was the trials and tribulations of the week end of a dear friend in the heart of
Uttar Pradesh. The second
an article I stumbled upon aptly titled:
Rs. 1.25 lakh for a small peg of cognac at Delhi hotel. True these were not sold every day but we were promptly informed that a champagne bottle priced at Rs 1. 75 lacs was
quite popular with our guests and sells pretty well.
But let us take them one at a time. Last week a friend volunteering with us told me that she was planning to visit Mathura with the family of one of the student she was teaching as they belonged to Mathura and had offered to be her guide. I was a little concerned as my friend is in her seventies but did not say anything as she was really excited and keen to go. The experience she said was one of a kind as she visited the sights on a motorbike! But what truly disturbed her was the squalor of the places she went to and the abject poverty around her. A far cry from the Delhi of malls and starred hotels just three hours away. She told me that the slums of the city were luxurious if compared to what she had seen.
Was it then synchronicity that I should come across the article just a few moments before hearing about the famed week end. I remember jumping out of my skin some years back when I heard of a bottle of champagne being sold at the
galling price of 50K! Well prices had gone up. If daily articles cost more then spirits had to follow I guess. So a peg at 1.25 lacs should not make us jump. Welcome to India the land of the
uber rich and the abjectly poor. The land where some gorge themselves whilst others starve. Yet another tale of two
Indias!
True you cannot and should not grudge anyone for their success, their riches, their prosperity. But can you turn your eyes away from the terrible pictures of children dying or the chilling statistics on malnutrition. Can you keep mute when you come across a child begging? Can you simply pass the abysmal living facilities that dot our city unmoved? I guess you can as most of us do with our myopic view of life contained within the four walls of our existence. How many of us would like my friend visit a place with someone who we considered ‘lower’? My friend did and what she saw was first hand: people living in cramped spaces with doorless bathrooms, where words like privacy have no meaning at all, where in a few square feet the old and the young eat, sleep, pray, cook, laugh, cry, fight, love and live or should one say survive. How many of us would share this space albeit for one night as my friend did and not be critical or horrified but humbled. How would you like to live in towns and shanties everyone has forgotten with no civic amenities where garbage and refuse lie everywhere and walking becomes an obstacle race? Yet many do, without grudging or complaining, forsaken by all.
Forgive my ranting but when I stumble upon a peg @ of 1.25 lacs my blood runs cold. There is something obscene and revolting about the image of someone sipping in a few minutes what another would never dream of in a lifetime. But that is the way we are. When will this country awake!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Nov 19, 2011 | Uncategorized
Last week a real estate tycoon threw a birthday bash. It took place in a palace in the middle of a lake where special duck shaped boats floated on the lake providing a novel dancing floor. The tout India was there: a true reunion of the uber rich and famous. And to crown it all the waka waka girl was flown in a special plane to entertain the guests. It was some show!
As the rich feasted danced and caroused, children died without a murmur . It is estimated that 5013 children die each day in India of malnutrition! India has the dubious distinction of having more than a third of the world’s child mortality. Should we not hang our heads in shame! I do. Yet the haves keep on celebrating. Children die while food grain rots. Children die while some gorge and waste. This is nothing short of unacceptable.
What is infuriating is that many sound programmes have been set up to deal with the situation but you guessed right they have been hijacked on the way and money siphoned to greedy pockets. The best example is the famed ICDS (Integrated Child Development Scheme) aimed at children below 5 and that would have ensured, if it had run as planned, that all Indians below the age of 35 were well nourished and inoculated. The reality is that almost 5o% of our children are suffer from malnutrition.
Last week one of our staff members was asked to visit a slum by local dwellers. The reason: they wanted us to open a primary outreach in their slum cluster. She was taken to the local anganwadi (creche) run under the (ill)famed ICDS programme. The so called creche was housed in a dark, airless, damp hole as I refused to call it room. There were a handful of toddlers sitting on the floor and a so called creche worker busy on the phone. There were no weighing machines, no toys or books, no pencils or crayons, no visible food supplements or at least plates and cups that would prove nutrition was given. The children were meant to sit and do nothing. This was how the ICDS programme was translated into reality. This was in the heart of the capital, a stone’s throw away from a swanky 5 star hotel! This was the place meant to monitor a child’s growth and development and take remedial measures. Frankly the child would be better running the in slum lanes. At least s/he would be in the sunlight and get some vitamin D! No wonder children die if programmes meant to protect them run like this.
5000 children die everyday and we remain silent. A statistic like this one should, if we had a conscience, make us take to the streets just as we did when one man gave his stop corruption call. It is true that in a convoluted way corruption encompasses the proper running of schemes but I am ready to bet my last rupee that none of US ever thought that we were taking to the streets or to our preferred social media to espouse the cause of dying children. We were there because we were fed up of the corruption that affected us. Civil society as it is called is made up of educated and aware people. Is it not their duty to raise its voice all all aberrations one encounters: children dying, children begging, children working in your neighbour’s house. But we are selfish and self centered and the dying children are not part of our minute horizon. So children keep on dying as we keep on living our myopic and pathetic existence. We pretend to be aware of things, well read and informed but will at best pontificate from the comfort of our homes or at cocktail parties with words that remain useless. If one of ours dies in suspect conditions we take to the streets, light candles, write articles and ensure that justice is restored. But the child that dies because of our apathy and indifference does not even affect us. We carry on the party while a child passes away every 18 seconds.
These 5013 are also our children. They have the same rights our children have. Their only sin is to have been born on the wrong side of the fence. Someone needs to take the cudgels on their behalf. Someone like us but will we?
by Anuradha Bakshi | Nov 18, 2011 | Uncategorized
Agastya my darling grandson finally left yesterday after 3 glorious months. A deafening silence pervades the house. It is almost eerie. Gone are the pattering of little feet and the giggles. Gone is the delightful prattle that got us all mesmerised. His last words were enchanthing. When asked by his mom to say bye to the staff in the kitchen Agastya set off on a mission to bid farewell. After saying a bye bye kitchen, he ran out and started a litany of byes: bye bye house, garden, bicycle, flowers, grandpas’ office and so on. He was so excited that he forgot bye bye nani! I did not say anything as I was busy fighting my tears.
The past months were a whirlwind. Every things was centered around this two and a half years bundle of joy. Our sleep time, waking time, eating time and above all playing time were orchestrated by the exacting yet adorable ring master. I was reminded of a quote by Sam Leveson: “The simplest toy, one which even the youngest child can operate, is called a grandparent“, a role I gladly played. At times I was on my fours playing with toy cars. But the preferred game was his version of Simple Simon: he led and we followed. Up, down, on your knees, touch the floor, wave your hands, roll them, hop, skip, jump. There was no respite as you followed the little man who got cross if you dared sit down. Forgotten where the creaky knees, or the hurting back. You just became a child and the special God children pray to ensured that the batteries of the toy were always charged and the pain on hold. All you skills often forgotten were tested: running, drawing, painting, singing. Even if you had never done it before you were commanded to draw a car and boy you did and even if it looked like nothing on earth it still brought a huge smile on the loved face.
There were special treats: a visit to the local the park, a day at Utpal’s school, a trip to the rides at the Kalka Temple and above all trips to the toy shop. Each was laced with oodles of fun and merriment that warmed the cockles of my old heart. Then there were the goodies: the hugs and kisses lavishly dealt out when he was in a good mood. They were heavenly and had the mysterious capacity to make you forget all your worries and woes. Life stood standstill and perfect. Time raced at the speed of light, each day melting into another without respite. One was so taken in by the magic that one forgot that this special time was limited and the day would dawn when the little one would fly away and leave you with your aches and pain and a bleeding heart.
Today time hangs heavy. The stairs that one ran up and down behind a little elf now look daunting as one climbs then slowly a step and a moan at a time. All the pains and worries put on hold loom larger than ever. The house is still replete with the toys, cars and clothes of the little one. Slowly they will be put or given away and the house will again regain its adult look. The pedal cars, scooty, and bicycles that the little fellow parked so painstakingly next to his granddad’s one before he left will soon be removed. How I will miss them. I remember how vehemently I had reacted some years back when little Utpal had left for boarding school and someone decided to put his bright yellow pedal car aptly christened ‘yellow submarine’ away. I wanted it left there, for me to see everyday. This time I did not murmur a sound when the neatly parked toy vehicles were put away. They would adorn the drive again when Agy came back.
I will slowly pick up the scattered threads of my life as it was before the bundle of life and energy landed upon us. The aches and pain will reclaim their lost place. Problems and fears will also once again take centre stage. The laughter and giggles will soon give way to frowns and worry lines. The sleepless nights that had vanished will reappear with a vengeance. New games will have to be conjured to fill empty time. I will have to learn to live on two time zones to catch a glimpse of the beloved face on a screen. Bless technology. Yes an old woman to have to live again till her little buddy comes back and makes her feel again.
Bye Bye little one. God bless you!
