by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 17, 2010 | Uncategorized
Yesterday I was interviewed for a web journal. After the set of regular questions about work and self, the journo asked me what I felt the State should do to address the habitat for the poor issue. Build decent homes in every part of the city as slum dwellers were the backbone of the city was my impassioned plea. Habitat for the poor I has always been an issue close to my heart as over the past decade I have been privy to the plight of slum dwellers in our heartless city. Are we not the city that needs a Supreme Court order to instruct it not to demolish any homeless shelter in the dead of winter! Are we not also the city that allows people to live for THIRTY years in ramshackle tenements along a road side, issuing them all kinds of civic recognition to fatten vote banks, and then razed their dwellings one fine morning to pander to some harebrained whim? Yes we are and we should hang our heads in shame, but do we? We all know the answer to that uncomfortable question.
Winter has set in it is terribly cold. Heaters and warm clothes have come out of the closets of the rich but do we ever spare a thought of what happens to the poor?
Last week Radha’s mom came to see us. Radha is the little girl with brittle bone disease, the one who has borne the pain of over 50 fractures in her tiny life, the one whose home has been destroyed more than once and who has spent many nights on a footpath, Radha who should be handled with extreme care but who lives in cramped and damp holes that would not be considered fit for an animal in any self respecting society. Radha’s mom had a simple request: could we keep Radha in our foster care for the duration of winter as the cold was unbearable in their tiny hovel where she slept on the damp floor. I can well imagine that. Radha’s present home is a sunken hole and the child who is a just a bag of bones must have suffered excruciating pain lying on the damp and cold floor. Needless to say we agreed. She had already spent some time with us when she last broke a leg and it was a joy to have her. We would have kept her longer but she wanted to return to her home and family and we did not stop her. You see Radha is much the elder sister to her younger siblings and somehow she felt she had to be with them.
Radha moved in yesterday and she will spend the rest of winter warm and cared for. But what about the innumerable children in this soulless city who will have to bear the brunt of the cold because we have forgotten to care for our very own.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 15, 2010 | Uncategorized
My aunt passed away yesterday. She was 90. I had lost touch with her for many years though she lived a stone’s throw away. A few days back I had been informed of her ailing health but somehow never found the time or inclination to make the short trip and see her, even if she was as I was told comatose. I wish I had.
When news of her passing reached me, I rushed to her side for a last glimpse of the old soul. I watched her frail and lifeless body and memories came rushing back, memories of me as a little girl, memories I had forgotten. And today as an aging woman myself I realised that she and I had a lot in common, even if did take one whole life to realise that.
My aunt was a very avant garde lady, one who was oft misunderstood and thus marginalised. It is perhaps this insensitive reaction of others in the family that made us shun her all these years. In times when women were at best appendixes of their husbands, she decided to live life on her own terms. She was a classical dancer and taught dance in a school of a small mufassil town. Unlike her peers who lived their lives in the shadows of their spouses, she lived hers in the bright sunlight. She lived in the outhouse of my grandfather’s home, and one of the high points of my holidays was to sneak to her home and spend time with her. My uncle was a lawyer and left home at 10 am. That was when I moved in. The next hours were spent with my aunt. Her life ran like a clockwork orange. She practised her dance and you can imagine what a thrill that was for a young child. Then she made her rotis, warmed her meal and laid it out on a small table in the veranda and sat with a magazine that she read for a while before partaking of her meal. I often asked her why she did that. Her answer was: This way, I feel I am being served, like a queen. Needless to say that this attitude of hers was made fun of by others, but today I understand what she meant. I often shared her meal. She ate at 12 sharp way before others, and then she would shoo me away, as it was her nap time, something she would never give up. At three her cycle rickshaw would come to fetch her for her classes. She was always impeccably dressed in bright sarees, a flower in her hair and she left home regally perched on her coach, come heat or rain.
She taught me a few steps of dance and sometimes even took me with her to her class. I watched goggled eyed imbibing a world I still did not know existed. This was undoubtedly the first free spirit I had met, and perhaps a secret role model I would emulate in my own way. Her last years on this planet were lonely and dark. A staunch believer in naturopathy – she never swallowed a pill in her life – she stubbornly refused to get her cataracts operated and thus turned slowly blind. But that did not stop her from living her way, the magazine was replaced by the TV serial.
I did tell you she was a avant-garde lady. In the sixties where women never traveled alone she decided to come and visit us in Algeria where we were posted. She made the trip with her young son and her dance paraphernalia and even performed for a TV show. Her spirit was finally broken by a fall and she spent the last months of her life bedridden and robbed of all that she had stood for.
As I watched the flames of her pyre rise high, I could see her spirit soar and flyaway. She had been finally released from a world that never truly understood her. May she rest in peace.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 12, 2010 | Uncategorized
This is a morning shift class of the primary boys at our Govindpuri Centre. Yet if you look carefully at the picture you will see a little girl sitting at the back. She is Neha, Amit’s little sister and Amit is her morning caretaker. You see both parents work and there is no one to look after the little girl. So the siblings take over. Amit in the morning and Mira in the afternoon.
It works like a clockwork orange. Amit brings the little girl to pwhy in the morning and then hands her over to Mira at the school gate at lunch time. Mira then takes over and little Neha is back at pwhy in the afternoon for the afternoon shift. She then returns home with her sister. I guess for once the two shift school system prevalent in our city is of some use! Not the best option for the little child but then at least she is safe.
This is the plight of many young children in a city where early education is still not free. Many families are too poor to pay for a creche or a preschool and thus older siblings have to become parents and caretakers. The sight of a small child carrying a younger one is common in slums and shanty towns. It is time the authorities looked at the plight of children and did something. Let us hope they do.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 6, 2010 | Uncategorized
Yesterday was my feelgood shot day. Yes you guessed right, it was PTM day at the boarding school! And yesterday more than ever I need my shot of hope, optimism and faith. So imagine my stress when the car was delayed and we has a late start. But the traffic was merciful and we did make almost in time.
We reached the school and sprung out of the car. We hastily gathered all the goodies and packets we had brought: chocolate cake and patties were the day’s treat. We also had bought extra sweaters and shoes for some of the kids as instructed on the previous day by the hostel warden. So bags and baby in tow – yes my grandson was with us – we scurried to the respective classrooms to gather our brood. As usual huge smiles and cheery hello Mams greeted us. Of course every one wanted to know what we had in the bags. After a fe minutes spent with the respective class teachers that were needless to say all praise, it was time to settle down in the sunny lawns and spend some quality time with our band of eight, after of course having opened the goodies bag. Between mouthfuls of chocolate cake we were made privy to the ongoings of this hallowed ground. There were tiny complaints, and gentle chiding. There were requests for the next visit, Utpal often being the chosen spokesperson: bring us more biscuits and dry fruits, we are hungry in the evening; Vicky’s shoes are broken; and so on. Time just flew as we sat in the winter sun listening to the chatter of these lovely kids and imbibing the happy feeling that was all around.
And as I sat there lost to the world I knew, I realised that all doubts and apprehensions that had been plaguing me for the past days just vanished. Watching these children laugh and smile made me realise more than ever that my work was far from over, that they needed me for years to come, that I had to secure their morrows no matter what it took. These children more than anyone else epitomised the spirit of why, a spirit that screamed loud and clear that no life was hopeless, that every child deserved nothing but the best and above all that the best could be theirs if you just kept on looking with your heart.
I had had my feelgood shot. It was time to get back on the spinning wheel. There was work to be done.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Nov 28, 2010 | Uncategorized
Dear Papa
You left us 18 years ago today. Since that day I have missed you every single day, sometimes days more than others, but not a single day has passed without feeling your presence, be it just the smile I give your lovely picture every morning when I sit down to work, just about the time when you and I shared a cup of tea when everyone else slept. Today I just drink it alone.
You taught me so much! From absolute surrender to a greater force to unwavering faith in the destiny of India, from the delights of life lived king size to the joy of sharing a humble meal; from erudite books of diverse cultures to the soothing lilt of the Bhojpuri lullaby your mother sang. I have carried each of the precious lessons you taught me and tried to abide by them even when it has been difficult to do so, as you where you also not the one to have taught me to always chose the road less travelled.
For the past ten years I have done just that though I must confess, it has not always been easy. But I have muddled through as best I could and never given up. But today Papa my feet are faltering and I feel like the little girl who awoke at night frightened by a dream and who called out in the dark. Only the dream this time is real and the father who always came to make things right is no more. Yet today I need him more than ever.
Project why is the gift you gave me to fill the abyss I had fallen in after you left. In the eyes of the little children that come each day I slowly found myself and the reason for which I had come into this world. For the past ten years I have nurtured and tended to it with all the care and love I could muster and protected it from one and all. But time is not on my side anymore and the moment has come to find the right way to ensure that pwhy lives on beyond me. After many false starts we have a found a way to do so. For project why to live, planet why has to happen and all seems to be pointing that way. But Papa, I am scared as it seems way beyond my capabilities and strengths. Yet when I look at the children around me, I know I cannot give up. I also cannot afford to share my angst with anyone but you and today Papa I need you more than ever before. I need you to hold my hand, just like you did when you taught me to walk, I need you to guide me just as you did each time I faced a dilemma, I need you to be my strength and show me the way. You see I cannot let down all those who have entrusted their dreams in my care. My shoulders are frail and ageing and I need your help to carry the final burden that has been laid on them.
I have often called pwhy my swansong. And it is. I need to perform the last act with brio and then maybe I too can come and rest in your arms forever.
I miss you…..
by Anuradha Bakshi | Nov 26, 2010 | Uncategorized
Rarely is love instant and yet once in a blessed while it is. For the last month we have been touched by a very special kind of magic conjured by two lovely souls called Alan and Em! Alan & Em have been volunteering at pwhy for the past one month and for the past one month we have all rediscovered the true meaning of words we adults often forget like fun, joy, exultation, delight, cheerfulness, gaiety and more. But that is not all they also renewed our faith in values like trust, honesty and goodness. Alan and Em are like rays of sunshine and breaths of the freshest air.
They came with their bag of goodies and enthralled the children with magic tricks, bubble shows and mysterious machines and somehow what had always seemed so boring and tedious became luminously simple. Science, physics, maths were just games to be enjoyed. And yet the children learnt more in this one month than they had ever before.
Alan and Em are like two happy children ready to discover all that the world has to offer to them and enjoy it to its fullest. In the past month I have never seen them frown or scowl. Even when they were hit by the Delhi bug, they never lost their smile. And not only the children, but we adults, and me in particular, got some precious lessons in the art of living. Their joie de vivre is infectious to say the very least and shows that it takes very little to live life to its fullest. It is amazing how nothing ever gets these two down. You never hear a complaint or even see a fleeting sign of discontent in their eyes. They are always happy. Ask them how their day went and you hear fabulous, awesome, amazing. Ask them how the food was and you hear delicious, yummy even if you have served them a simple innocuous meal.
A & M have also given a whole new meaning to the word charity. Their generosity brings to mind the old proverb that says; A bone to the dog is not charity. Charity is the bone shared with the dog, when you are just as hungry as the dog! They simply have an implicit trust in human nature.
Knowing Alan and Emily has been a privilege and honour and we all feel blessed. Love is rarely instant yet once in a while it is: this was just one such instant.
Yesterday I was interviewed for a web journal. After the set of regular questions about work and self, the journo asked me what I felt the State should do to address the habitat for the poor issue. Build decent homes in every part of the city as slum dwellers were the backbone of the city was my impassioned plea. Habitat for the poor I has always been an issue close to my heart as over the past decade I have been privy to the plight of slum dwellers in our heartless city. Are we not the city that needs a Supreme Court order to instruct it not to demolish any homeless shelter in the dead of winter! Are we not also the city that allows people to live for THIRTY years in ramshackle tenements along a road side, issuing them all kinds of civic recognition to fatten vote banks, and then razed their dwellings one fine morning to pander to some harebrained whim? Yes we are and we should hang our heads in shame, but do we? We all know the answer to that uncomfortable question.
