by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 28, 2010 | Uncategorized
The day did dawn. The lohar camp was raised to the ground courtesy the commonwealth games. And this time we knew it would not be allowed to be rebuilt no matter how large the tithe. The camp had been in existence for over 35 years. Over time it had acquired what we could rightly call civic recognition: a postal address – Maharaha Pratap Camp -, ration cards and voter’s ID card for all its inhabitants, electricity etc. Over the years promises were made by all and sundry – politicians, social do gooders, administrators – that the camp would be relocated and its inhabitants given proper plots with space to carry on their trade. Let us not forget that these are nomads and nomads were promised rehabilitation by none other than our first Prime Minister. I would also like to add that in most other states they have been properly rehabilitated.
For the past 35 years they have lived in this camp. Children are born, they grow up and get married and have their own families. Sanjay and Vicky both teachers at project why were born in this very camp. Over the past 35 years their camp has been raised regularly and then allowed to be rebuilt after payment of an adequate bribe. It was almost a game that we too have watched from the wings helplessly as for almost five years we ran a small creche and primary outreach and got to know and admire this proud clan.
A few years back the head of the clan affectionately known as Tau – elder uncle – brought some papers to me. These were bits and pieces of a file, very official looking with green sheets and heaps of bureaucratic notings by senior officials. A quick look at the papers showed that a rehabilitation plan had been mooted and surveys done. The Lohars of Delhi should have got their place in the sun. But that was not to be. The plan got hijacked probably by land mafias as is always the case and the Lohars remained where they were. We decided to do something and try we did! A PIL was filed in the High Court and a case was also filed with the National Human Rights Commission. Had not the rights of these proud souls been hijacked with impunity. They had been used and abused by all and sundry: hungry politicians prowling for new vote banks, uncaring bureaucrats, greedy land grabbers and so on. No one seemed to care.
The Lohars continued to live with their head held high refusing to give up, their legendary resilience intact watching impassibly the will it won’t it game that was enacted in front of their tiring eyes. And somehow each time we thought the game was over, some extra time was doled out to meet some new wily agenda. Till yesterday when the final blow was dealt courtesy the commonwealth games and the tiny camp was finally destroyed forever. Our Lohar friends are now scattered all over this uncaring and insensitive city.
I will miss them. Over the years I had learnt to love and respect this proud people. I often found myself walking to their camp whenever I felt in need of a shot of optimism. I would spend hours over cups of tea talking to Tau and imbibing his age old wisdom. I would watch the beautiful children playing in the dust breathing the fumes of the cars revving up at the red light. Were they not children of Indian born with the same rights as others, then who had usurped and hijacked their rights! What could one do. The PIL in court was lost in translation.
Sanjay and Vicky have not come to the centre for the past few days. They are busy picking up the pieces of their shattered life and building a new one. I know they will succeed as they have the wisdom of the gypsies in their veins. I cannot begin to imagine what it feels like to have your home and life destroyed in front of your helpless eyes. I just feel angry and sad at the way those in power play with innocent souls and ultimately always win. Is this the India our freedom fighters fought and died for? I just think we have let them down. Is there a way out. I do not know.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 26, 2010 | Uncategorized
How can we forget that for Rs 28,000 crore we could have established primary schools and health centres in tens of thousands of villages? Can we ignore this splurge the next time a malnourished child looks at us in the eye? writes Azim Premji in today’s morning paper. I have been saying this for quite some time. I hope that when an eminent personality echoes the same it would be heard. Then why do I have the uncanny feeling that it will not.
I fell of my chair when I heard a Member of Parliament and also an industrialist state on National TV that 80 000 Rs a month salary was no big deal! This was in the course of a debate on the raise in salaries for Parliamentarians. The MP felt that 80K a month was not such a big salary and wondered why it was being made into such an issue. I would like to remind our esteemed MP that the present minimum wage is about 5000 Rs a month and many across our country do not earn even that. According to recent statistics over 37.2 % of Indians live below the poverty line and 5000 children still die of malnutrition every day.
The question is not whether one should or should not hold international events. The question is one of priorities. And these seem to be totally skewed. But then we are missing the point: such events are wonderful ways of making money and these Games have given us ample proof of that. What is worrying however is the total lack of concern of those in power for what I call the other India. It almost seems as if for them it does not exist. Though if you care to look, it is at our very doorstep. Be it the malnourished child who taps on your car window, or the poor labourer toiling under the rain to meet some new impossible deadline.
The Games are an eye opener to all that is wrong in India. Anyone can see that but we seem to have lost our ability to do that. We are too inured, or perhaps too ensconced in our self created catatonia and unable to move when we should be screaming. If at nothing else than at least at the helium balloon hired at the cost of 40 crores for the opening ceremony, mind you in case you use it for the closing ceremony then you pay more! And let me remind you lest you have forgotten it is you and I and our children who will toil a lifetime to foot the bill. Yes I said let us at least scream at this wasteful expense as we seem to have lost our ability to do so when hundreds of thousands have lost their homes, their livelihood and more.
I have now words left.. I will simply quote Mr Premji again. He ends his article with the following: At times like these, it will serve our leaders well to recall Gandhiji’s talisman: “Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man whom you may have seen, and ask yourself if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him. Will he gain anything by it? Will it restore him to a control over his own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to Swaraj for the hungry and spiritually starving millions?”
Is anyone listening?
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 20, 2010 | Uncategorized
Sanjay did not come to the project yesterday. The reason: an eviction notice by the Municipality. Sanjay is a Lohar who lives in what is known as the Maharana Pratap Camp but is actually a motley assortment of 40 ramshackle tenements made of plastic sheets and tarpaulin. The Camp has been in existence for 3o years and Sanjay was born there and for the last 30 years there have been innumerable evictions notices. Along the way the camp gained respectability and recognition with a postal address and voter Id cards for its residents: you see they were after all a sizable vote bank. As for the eviction notices, they were warded away with a few coins. It was almost a game being played to perfection, with every protagonist playing its role faultlessly. This by the way is a play running in many locations across our city. However this time there was a new entrant in the plot: the Commonwealth Games and it seemed that this time the denouement could be different.
Sanjay to say the least was definitely worried. Would this eviction be for real? The red letter day dawned and passed. A hurried visit to the local politicos revealed that perhaps the camp would be saved and the ludicrous idea of hiding it, the one mooted by our Chief Secretary, be enforced. The camp would be hidden not behind bamboo screens as once thought, but behind some kind of screen, maybe even publicity ones to rake in more moolah! The jury is still out on this one.
This incident raises once again the question of our attitude towards what we call, for want of a better word, the poor. With the advent of the Games this attitude has come out of the closet and is out in the open. We are ashamed of our poor and yet unable or rather unwilling to address the situation and find lasting solutions. We just want to brush the problem under the carpet and hope it goes away.
A TV show aired yesterday tried to debate the issue. Sadly most participants did not get down to addressing the real issue but simply tried to defend their position rather unconvincingly. The debate was on the lack of concern of the middle class towards what was termed as the other India. It actually became a weak defense on the said lack of concern. This is the sad reality. We have lost our heart and soul in our quest for riches. Yet we forget that to acquire these very riches we need the other India be it to construct our new homes and malls or simply to make our every day life easier and better.
The question that begs to be asked is how long will the other India remain silent? How long are we going to simply ignore the facts that glare at us: children dying of malnutrition, people living in inhumane conditions, farmers committing suicide: the list is endless. It is time we addressed these issues if we want our good times to continue. As one participant tried to say: we need to empower the poor and we need to do it now.
The last few weeks have been replete with stories of corruption in the CWG. Yet nothing much was said about the people who lost their homes and livelihood, about the children who worked on construction sites, about the labourers who lost their lives. They do not make news. Nor does Sanjay and his kin. They may lose their homes or may be hidden behind a screen as we are too embarrassed to accept their existence. And after the games the screens will be removed and the eviction game will resume after a brief interruption.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 19, 2010 | Uncategorized
Today, almost every child in our country has access to primary education. It is our endeavour that every child, irrespective of whether he is rich or poor and which section of the society he belongs to, should be given an education that enables him to realize his potential and makes him a responsible citizen of our country. These words were part of the Prime Minister’s address from the ramparts of the Red Fort on India 63rd Independence day.
How I wish this were true! Sadly it is not so.
Allow me to share a story with you, one that is true. It happened on August 14th 2010, just a day before our Prime Minister delivered his speech. We had gone to the I Day celebrations of the children’s boarding school to be part of the festivities which were to end with the launch of a Literacy programme in a nearby slum cluster. We were very excited as this is the very area where God willing planet why will one day be seated. The rain Gods were bountiful on that cloudy morning and by the time we reached the slum cluster it was pouring the proverbial cats and dogs. The programme was to be launched in the tiny roofless community centre of the cluster where a small tent had been erected.
A few days earlier someone had visited the cluster and made a list of children interested in joining the programme. The names of around 40 children figured on that piece of paper and they were to receive a small token: a notebook and some pencils in a smart plastic folder. The show began. The flimsy tent was not able to hold the rain and soon the piece of paper was soaked and the names washed away. This was almost providential as we soon realised that there were not 40 but hundreds of children in the small tent with the same amount outside. Children of all ages. I was moved to tears when a young girl, about 16 or so, who looked married also held out her hand and said she too wanted to study! The books and pencils were soon outnumbered by the little hands held out in anticipation.
I moved away and started talking to the parents. I was soon told that most of the children did not go to school though the parents were keen they do. The reason :the sole municipal school in the vicinity had more than 100 kids in each class and even an illiterate parent was aware of the fact that no learning could happen in such abysmal conditions. Children passed from class to class without any learning! This was the situation a day before the PM’s speech just a few kilometers away for the Red Fort. Where was the access to primary education the PM announced with such confidence. Was this the way Independant India hoped children would realise their potential and become responsible citizens!
There is a universe of difference between what is on paper and the reality on the ground Mr Prime Minister. The children of your own capital city do not have access to education, let alone quality education and nothing seems to be really happening. It is time we did something. I do not know whether you will, but we at pwhy certainly will.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 16, 2010 | Uncategorized
I was recently asked by a friend to make a selection of my blogs as he wanted to publish them in a a small ebook. I must candidly admit that I was thrilled. He also mentioned that maybe I should chose those where I talk of the God of lesser beings. There are over 1200 blogs and I did not quite know where to begin so the suggestion was more than welcome. My blogs are like children to me, some perhaps smarter, better looking and nicer than the other, but each one as precious. Thanks to the wonderful search tool I was able to zero in on the blogs in a jiffy. As I started sifting through them a smile on my lips, I began to wonder how, when and why the God of Lesser beings had come into my life and who he or she actually was.
I realised that there were moments in my last ten years when everything went suddenly dark for more reasons than one: it could be the total lack of funds that made me wonder how the next day would dawn, or the helplessness of a parent who needed help to save her dying child; or an absolutely incomprehensible and terrible situation that needed a solution that was not forthcoming. In those moments I needed help and had no one to turn and yet felt deep inside that there was somehow out there I could reach out to, someone who would rescue me. There were also times when I felt lost and dejected and ready to give up. At those times I needed someone to steer me back and give me the courage to carry on. And believe me there was someone who again heard and sent a miracle my way. But I never knew who it was.
One day little Utpal romped around the house a God mask on his face stating he was Hamoumam! At that instant I realised that he was the one who helped me, the God of Lesser beings, the one little boys prayed to and the one that heard prayers forbidding Gos did not, the one who did not need to be propitiated with costly offerings and complex rituals. The one who only heard those who saw with their hearts.
He has been the one who has walked by my side each and every day for the past ten years and has strangely become the only God I pray to!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 15, 2010 | Uncategorized
There is a post waiting to be published but I have decided to hold on to it, maybe till just tomorrow, as I wanted today’s post to be one of celebration and joy and the post I refer to was to borrow the words of a friend the kind that drives one to utter despair. But today is Independence day and in spite of everything, it is a day we need to honour. I must admit that two days back I would have been at a complete loss to find something to share with you but the God of Lesser beings decided otherwise and gifted me another perfect day.
Normally Independence day and other such celebrations are closed door affairs in the children’s boarding school but this year the school decided to launch a Literacy Mission in the slums near the school and were graceful enough to ask us to associate ourselves with them. The mission was to be launched after the I day school festivities. We were on cloud nine as this is the very area where Planet Why was to be located. And I must admit to be privy to what happens in school on days where parents are not allowed was indeed a rare treat.
The day was cloudy and humid but we were hoping and against hope that the rains would not play spoil sport. We reached bright and early and were greeted by a walk of honour where children held little flags and wished us Happy I Day! Utpal was one of them and I was terribly proud to see him smile and wave his little flag. We were then escorted to the tent where the show would take place. I must admit that I was a little weary as I wondered how long we would have to wait for the proverbial chief guest. We were seated on the front row making us sort of VIPs! A short while later a young student came to ask us to come for the flag hoisting and we knew the real VVIPs had arrived. The flag was hoisted as the school band played the national anthem and then there was a march past.
Once we were again seated the show began. I must again admit that I was on the look out for our kids and wondered when they would appear on stage. We had seen some of them all dressed up and were eager to see them perform. There were a few items by the older children and then it was time for the little ones and there they were Aditya, Meher, Yash and little Manisha who had been in school for barely a month. They performed what is called an action song to perfection and my eyes misted – as they always seem to do in such occasions – as I watched them dance and sing. It was a touching petition to God and I think that the God of Lesser beings was moved too as the heavens opened and it started pouring. The tent came down and every one ran for cover. My heart stopped. What would happen now. What about all the kids who had not performed yet. I dared not ask, too scared of the answer I may receive. I just waited with bated breath for what would happen next.
We were soon asked to move to the Principal’s room where the customary ‘refreshment’ was hurriedly served. There was tea and cold drinks and an array of eats. Then some time later as we were still guessing what would happen next the good news: the show was to continue in the dining hall. I was truly impressed by the speed at which everything had been reorganised. The show as the young MC said must go on! Babli danced in a lively number on national integration and Vicky was part of an enthralling yoga display. A few more songs and a great performance by the school band closed the show. There were a few speeches and then it was time to go. But the day was not quite over as the school had planned to launch its literacy mission on that day.
It was still raining but we were all very excited. The school had identified a nearby slum cluster and children and parents were waiting in spite of the pelting rain. A distribution of pens and notebooks had been planned but soon we realised that there were far more children then notebooks! The number of children was overwhelming and each one wanted to be part of the programme. Parents were eager too as the only municipal school in the vicinity did not really seem to be working as there were more then 80 kids in each class and not much teaching, and many children just did not go to school.
The literacy programme envisaged by the school was to be held on week ends when students would come and teach their little underprivileged peers. It was undoubtedly a great idea but we knew from past experience that much more was required. What was needed was an outreach programme like the ones we ran and I knew what had to be done. We had to start one as soon a possible. My mind went on overdrive trying to work out the logistics: how to start, when to begin etc. And as innumerable thoughts crowded my mind the rain stopped and the sun came out and somehow I felt that the God of Lesser Beings smiling.
I had been given my very special I day gift, one that showed me that for me the show was no way near over.
The day did dawn. The lohar camp was raised to the ground courtesy the commonwealth games. And this time we knew it would not be allowed to be rebuilt no matter how large the tithe. The camp had been in existence for over 35 years. Over time it had acquired what we could rightly call civic recognition: a postal address – Maharaha Pratap Camp -, ration cards and voter’s ID card for all its inhabitants, electricity etc. Over the years promises were made by all and sundry – politicians, social do gooders, administrators – that the camp would be relocated and its inhabitants given proper plots with space to carry on their trade. Let us not forget that these are nomads and nomads were promised rehabilitation by none other than our first Prime Minister. I would also like to add that in most other states they have been properly rehabilitated.
I will miss them. Over the years I had learnt to love and respect this proud people. I often found myself walking to their camp whenever I felt in need of a shot of optimism. I would spend hours over cups of tea talking to Tau and imbibing his age old wisdom. I would watch the beautiful children playing in the dust breathing the fumes of the cars revving up at the red light. Were they not children of Indian born with the same rights as others, then who had usurped and hijacked their rights! What could one do. The PIL in court was lost in translation.
