The phone rang and an unknown number sprung on the screen. I am normally wary of unknown numbers but did answer the incoming call. A warm Good morning Maa’m greeted me with a quickly added don’t you recognise me? The voice did seem vaguely familiar but I could not place it. Before I could voice a reply I heard It’s R, your old student. I was still slightly nonplussed but then it all came back. It was indeed R one of our first students way back in 2000. I want to comeand see you he added, I have a proposal for pwhy I would like to share. We fixed a time for the next day and he ended the communication. I sat for a long time, phone in hand and memories rushing in my mind.
R was indeed one of the first boys to join our spoken English classes. He was in class X then and a bright lad. I remember the day when he came to class with welts on his arm. He had been beaten at school for not having worn the right shoes. I was needless to say, horrified. He was also one of the motley crew of boys that stood in the grim office of the school Principal whilst I spouted my take on corporal punishment to a group of teachers wielding sticks and who looked at me as if Ihad landed from another planet. He was also one of the band who was called gutter snipe by the same Principal who cockily stated that he and his pals would never be able to pass their Boards exams and was also the first one to state loud and clear that he would when I threw my cheeky challenge to the Principal and told him that ALL the boys would indeed pass. He was one of the 10 odd boys that came every winter morning at 7 am and sat on the roadside where we held the famed remedial classes. He was also part of our first batch of class XII students. After class XII he joined an evening college.
This was when a wily MLM company spread its tentacles in our slum and R was the obvious choice to lead the team. He even went on to own a car for a few months. I prayed to all the Gods in heaven that my boys not be hurt when Humpty Dumpty had his great fall. R lost his car but thank God came out with just a few bruises. I then lost touch with him till yesterday’s call.
R cames on the appointed day. He looked well and was brimming with confidence. He revaled that he was now assistant manager in an Events Management Company and earning a whopping 15 K a month! His company had just organised a very successful concert and R wanted to help organise a fund raising event for pwhy! Wow. I was floored and moved at the same time. This was awesome. Life had come full circle. Here was one of our very own students extending a helping hand. What a lovely story to tell. I must admit that I was thrilled.
I do not know whether the event will see the light of day. I hope it does as it will be a proud moment for us all. To be continued….
It has happened again though after a long time. We are short of funds and do not quite know how we will make payments next month. You may wonder why this has occurred. I guess we just allowed ourselves to sink into one of those dreaded comfort zones and did not see the writing on the wall. We did not realise that the loss of our on line payment facility would make such a difference. We were a tad complacent and let things run. Our little cushion against rainy days got slowly eaten away and one fine morning we woke up to the harsh reality of not having sufficient funds.
Actually the we I have so candidly used in the para above should be changed to ‘I’ as for the past 10 years it is I and only I who has fund raised for pwhy. True I was always painfully conscious of the fragility of this funding model but the bottom line is that I did not do much bar make lofty plans for a distant feature (read planet why) forgetting the tomorrow. Today I stand exposed and sheepish. Can I afford to say that I forgot, or that it slipped my mind. certainly not: when you hold smiles and morrows in custody you do not have that luxury. Mea culpa! I am guilty of not having kept on my toes, of not having written my erstwhile appeals, of not having sought a alternative to the on line payment option. Time to soul search and necessary amends. This time though I will not got for it alone but keep my team in the loop.
So for the past days/weeks we have donned our thinking caps to find new funding options.
Last month I got two emails from leading NGOs. One invited me to join what they called the 100 rs club, and the other solicited me to become of the 6000 people they were looking for, people who would be willing to donate 10K a year. Both bought a smile on my tired face as they reminded me of our herculean efforts to infuse life into our one-rupee-a-day programme that was launched many years back but never truly jelled. I wonder how the programmes of these NGOs who ask for 100 and 800 Rs a month will fare. I wish them luck. Maybe they will succeed as both these organisations are high profile, something we never managed to be.
Another NGO we know well had their yearly fund raising fair. They do it every year with success as do many other organisations: fairs, carnivals, melas, concerts etc. So perhaps that was the way to go. Quite by chance we were contacted by an event management company who offered to organise a show for us but there was a catch: for it to be successful we needed to find a celebrity. As we were close to despair, we even tried to do that, posting on Facebook and making phone calls. The outcome was bewildering: Delhi did not have many celebrities, and even if a Mumbai celebrity would accept to lend her/his name there was another catch: we would have to pay airfare and 5* accommodation. Where would we find that kind of money. So bye bye fairs, concerts,melas…
Maybe we should just try and revive our good old rupee-a-day deal. But how was the question. And that would take time and we needed the funds now. There was only one tried and tested way: writing appeals to friends and well wishers, the very ones who had always been there for us. I must admit I felt sheepish to do so as it has been a long time since I picked my virtual pen to write to them. There was a time not so long ago when I did write regularly, even when we needed nothing just to keep in touch. Then I stopped smugly thinking that people would read blogs and FB notes and keep abreast. Mea Culpa again. It was now time to once again retrieve the dusty begging bowl and solicit help. That was still the only way to go!
I have been wanting to write my take on corruption for quite some time now but did not quite know how to. The last weeks/months have been replete with scams and more scams and the corruption figures are mind boggling. I believe that an estimated 63 lakh crores of Indian money sits in Swiss banks. I cannot even begin to work out how many zeroes we are talking off! I get disturbed even by a mere rupee lost in corruption as that rupee is often robbed from a child or a lost soul. Groups against corruption have sprung up on cyberspace and I dutifully joined some hoping to add my voice to the chorus. Recent upheavals in faraway land where millions have taken to the street to battle corruption does make us wonder when we too will muster the courage to do so.
But let us get back to this post and the reason why it is being written today. A mail dropped by yesterday informing that one of my posts had been selected as one of the spicy Saturdays pick of the week by a well known internet portal. As I browsed the site in question my eyes fell on the title of another pick: I dare to dream. This brought a smile to my face as dare to dream was one of the bye lines that I had come up for project why long time back. Where children dare todream was what we often wrote under the words Project Why till they got changed to because it makes that little difference. Wonder why that happened. Anyway dare to dream were words close to my heart so I clicked on the link and landed on a post on corruption where for once the author went beyond recrimination and stated: I hate what is happening and yet I love my country. I dare to dream of a corruption free India. Do you dare to dream? His words struck a deep chord in me and reminded of my father’s dying words: Do not lose faith in India. It looked like too many of us had. Even I who had meekly changed a bold dare todream to a meek because it makes that little difference. It was time to redress the tort.
True corruption is all around us but how can we forget that it takes two to tango and if there are people who give, then there are also those who take. Corruption has simply become a way of life and a way that works well. And we are all part of the game in our own little way. To reverse the equation would require us to change ourselves and how! And to get to do that we need to dare to dream big. So let us see what we should dare to dream about: an India free of corruption, where promise are not mere lip service or empty pre-electoral promises, where compassion reigns, where children never got to bed hungry, where all children go to school and where all school have teachers and playgrounds, where health care is available to all, where women are not abused and humiliated and the birth of little girls celebrated, where difference is extolled and feted, where all barriers are broken and where all are free and safe. The picture is enticing is it not? And if we dare to dream I am sure we will also garner the will to make the dream come true.
Altogether your investment of yourself into the project is getting to be a magnificent obsession which is very commendable but deserves caution. So what is it I wonder that so relentlessly drives you. I am trying to understand were the words written by someone I dearly respect. He went on to say: The scope of Project Why is exponential. This is what is concerning me. Is there an indication for rationalising the endeavour. I wonder.If your father was alive what advise would he have proffered.
The words would have irked me had they come form anyone else. But the person who wrote them was someone I cherish dearly, someone I know cares deeply for me. And moreover it is someone who was very close to Ram, my father. So somehow a simple email metamorphosed into a message from the heavens, one that needed to be deciphered gently.
So let us begin by trying to find out what it is it that relentlessly drives me? The answer is not hard to find. For me it is inconceivable to sit doing nothing when faced with disturbing whys, be it a Manu begging on the street or a troubling statistic like the one that states that a child does of malnutrition every 8.7 minutes, be it the sight of a child made to beg on the streets when s/he should be in school or the plight of a woman used and abused, be it the pain of a parent running helter-skelter to garner the money to save its child or the sadness in the eyes of children of a lesser god that no one cares for. Can trying to seek answers to any of these whys be termed as a magnificent obsession or is it simply the only option. I tend to think it is the latter: simply the only road that one can travel. So what drives me is no magnificent obsession: I simply see, hear and care.
But there is more in the mail that needs answers. Yes the growth of pwhy is exponential but that is simply because whys keep coming our way, almost as if they were guided to by an invisible hand. This is what I have felt right from the outset. The feeling that this time, no matter what I may seem to others, I am not in charge. A first for me who has always liked being in the drivers seat. But not this time. From the day I first walked the tiny street where Manu was born and where the first stone of pwhy was subsequently laid, I intuitively felt a presence gently propelling me forward. And there was no looking back, with each why that was thrown my way, came an answer that miraculously worked. Pwhy had wings of its own on which I had scant control!
So what was the message. The words caution and rationalising perturbed me. Where we going or growing too fast? Was planet why too big a venture for me to handle? Did I have the required skills? And did rationalising mean slowing down, pruning the project, finding another sustainability plan that was less onerous? And yet as I have said time and again planet why seemed to have a life of its own, each time we have been close to giving it up, something has occurred to save it. 2011 is the last year we are giving to the project so if the God of Lesser Beings want to see it happen, then he needs to conjure a miracle fast. In spite of my best efforts I have been unable to dictate what happens at pwhy. Pwhy grows organically. One just tends to it with care and heed.
And last but not the least, what advise would my father have proffered. Knowing him he would have encouraged me to continue on the path I have chosen without doubt. True he would have, like any caring parent, been concerned about me, but would have always advised me to carry on hearing, seeing and caring.
The children of our Okhla centre proudly present: The wind goes travelling, an original play in English written and performed by the children and directed by their teacher Smita. These children are all primary students wo began learning English barely a year ago! The play was premiered one Republic Day.
A recent mail from of our staunchest supporters suggested gently that one should consider 2011 as a watershed year for planet why. Give it our all but accept to let it go by the end of the year of nothing happens. A bit fatalistic I must admit. But then am I not the one who had always felt the presence a guiding hand since the day it all began, it being project why! The hand of the one I christened: the God of Lesser beings.
So when did it all begin, this planet why idea, at least in my mind. I guess here too there were two distinct ideas: the shelter for lost souls and the hope hotel as some call it or the guest house that was meant to churn the much needed resources. The former was seeded almost 11 years ago when I first lay eyes on Manu. The later was much latter, when all other options had failed: the cards and candles, the chocolates and jewels, the tshirts and bags, the one rupee a day venture, the soaps and oils, all meant to help us move from charity to sustainability.
It did not happen overnight. One was at one’s wits end to find the best solution and an innocuous remark introduced me to the ninos hotel in Cusco. The rest is history. With every passing day the idea of dovetailing hospitality with development became stronger. It was richer in possibilities the all previous ventures as it also allowed us to take a step further in our journey and take the kids beyond simple school education.
There were up and downs, times when we were ready to give up but like the proverbial bad penny planet why kept springing back with obsessive regularity. When we were let high and dry by a potential donor, other appeared and we managed to purchase our land. When the world markets plummeted we again thought that the planet why idea had crashed with it but then it bounced back. When a friend suggested that we get the plan vetted by professional consultants I was convinced that the outcome would be negative, but far from that, it was found to be very lucrative. When the final costing was worked out, I recoiled at the figures but others found it normal. When our innumerable mails seeking support and finance were answered with polite nays, out of the blue came people who were willing to ensure that planet why see the light of day. When Manu left us and I was shattered as in my mind Manu and planet why were synonymous, every one else felt that Planet Why was the only way we could honour his memory.
This where we stand today. And yet I tend to agree with the friend who has decreed that we consider 2011 as a watershed year for planet why. I guess it simply means that we once again leave it in the hands of the God of Lesser Beings!
