The field was barren, rocky, uneven, patchy and strewn with empty plastic cups and bags. The players: a bunch of slum kids, an eager young German football fan and a business school student from France. The day was sunny and spirits soared high.
Welcome to the project why secondary kids first football match of the season: an initiative of young Lukas, a volunteer from Koln who is with us for a couple of months. And there are more to come.
Unfortunately I was not there but the pictures and the excitement of young Lukas as he recounted the event were sufficient to know that it had been a great game. I was thrilled to learn that the children played extremely well and that some were good enough to be in a team. And yet I knew that these kids would never make it, not because they lacked talent or motivation, but simply because once again we as adults had failed them. The state of the field – actually the sports ground of the two local secondary schools – said it all. Barren, rocky, dirty. Such is the state of sports in state run schools in spite of hefty budgets. And slowly with time the enthusiasm and talent dwindle and vanish and with them the dreams of simple children.
And yet all is takes to reignite them is a young boy from another land who dreams football and comes from miles away to share his dream with children from a Delhi slum.
The children of the special section went for a picnic yesterday. For a whole week everyone had been busy planning the event. Lists were made, plans discussed. Everyone agreed on the menu: samosas of course and frootis to drink. Shamika and Cat our volunteer from the UK decided to bake a batch of brownies and some banana cake. Then it was time to decide about what else to take: mats of course but also hoola hoops, Frisbees, balls and the badminton set. Everything was retrieved and dusted and made ready. Notes were sent to the parents and everyone was ready to go. The excitement was palpable.
The picnic morning finally dawned and everyone was there on time, even the ones who usually come late and everyone was dressed in their best clothes. The star of the show was undoubtedly little Radha whose brittle bones and distorted legs were forgotten for the day as she turned up in a flouncyskirt trimmed with fake fur! Wonder where she ever got it from. Two big cars had been hired for the day and it was time to go. The chosen spot: the Lodi Garden.
For the next few hours these wonderful children of a lesser god forgot all their woes: their dark and stifling homes, the abuse and slander, the sadness and hurt. For the next few hours they were just like other children running on the grass, basking in the sun, playing games and laughing as they never had. Never mind if some could not walk, hear or talk. For those few hours they reclaimed their usurped right: that of being children. It was touching and heartwarming to watch them: a truly blessed moment. I wonder if the god of lesser being was also smiling.
Looking at this picture warms the cockles of my heart. To the uninitiated it may look just like two little girls learning together. It is not quite that. Allow me to unravel the mystery of this special snapshot.
Kiran the little girl on the right of the picture is very special to project why. She was born the day we began our activities. Mature beyond her years she chose to make the special section her haven and spent her early years there. She now goes to an upmarket school though she still spends all her free time with her old pals of the special section. Pooja the little girl on the left has been a student of the specials ection for many years. She comes from a very poor family and is hearing impaired. Kiran and Pooja have been best friends and Kiran even learnt sign language to be able to communicate with her special pal. When she has time, Kiran often helps Pooja with her class work. Like all little girls their age they share many secrets and laugh and giggle together. It does not really matter if one of them is locked in silent world, the other broke the barrier long ago.
Kiran and Pooja are the perfect example of inclusive education. They prove beyond doubts that children from different worlds and with different abilities can learn and grow together if given a chance. It is we adults that never really give them that chance.
Just a few miles away from where I sit to write this post lies the village of Badarpur Khader. I would have never known it existed were it not for a small article tucked away in the inside pages of my morning paper. The article simply stated that this village which is in North East Delhi does not have any civic amenities: no electricity, no water, no dispensary, no school. Over 200o people live there. None of its children, particularly the girls have ever been to school. And this after 62 years of independence!
I decided to browse the net and find out more about this village. Over the years the people of Badarpur Khader had found ways to cope with the situation: all housework is completed before nightfall, mobiles are charged through adaptors connected to tractor batteries, and all weddings take place in daylight! There is more. Last year, the village decided to stand up and take action by setting up their own school.
Of course politicians do visit the village during elections, make empty promises and then vanish in the dark. Authorities give implausible reasons for the state of affairs and retreat into their comfortable shells. Life goes on in this forsaken village…
What is shocking and disturbing is the fact that this little village is within the very city that is busy preparing itself for a sports extravaganza and spending astronomical amounts of money, and yet it does not have the tiny amount needed to build a school promised to this village years ago. A PIL has been filed in court highlighting these issues. One wonders how long it will take to wake people out of their slumber!
There are many aberrations around us and this is just one more. The tale of two Indias is a never ending story. In the same city some children ride to school in smart AC buses while others need to walk 8 kilometers in inclement weather. Something is wrong somewhere and I wonder what it will take for us to wake up and begin setting things right!
A gold bucket worth 3 crores ( 30 million) of rupees was donated by an anonymous donor to propitiate Lord Balaji. The offering would be used for storing incensed water during the celestial bath of the deity. This is not the kind of news that normally catches my attention. I have over the years become inured to the aberrations committed in the name of God! The reason why I this item caught my eye, or should I say my ear is the price tag: 3 crores. Just the amount we need to build planet why.
The recipient that will now hold the bath water of a stone deity could have brought smiles on hundreds of little faces and brought light into their dark lives. I wonder what God would have opted for, were he given the choice. The price of this bucket was all that is needed to give young Champa, little Munna and a host of their special friends a home and a place where they could live and die with dignity. Champa and Munna are what we often call children of a lesser God. Are they that or are they manifestations of that very of that we fail to recognise? I do not know. What i know is that when I look into their eyes, or share a moment with them I feel uplifted . I only know that in their presence I feel cleansed and complete and far more at peace than in any so called home of God. So is not caring for these pure and simple souls the best way of propitiating and venerating God.
The equation is loaded: one the one hand a bucket that will simply hold water and on the other a recipe that churns smiles, hope and brighter morrows. And yet the former one wins the race each and every time. How does one reverse it is what I ask myself.
Today planet why is in jeopardy. Last year we believed in this dream with all our might. When we managed to secure our land in spite of many hiccups we were elated. We felt we could conquer all. But then recession hit the world, and us and everything took a back seat. All plan went askew. We knew we had to simply wait for things to pass and then pick up the pieces and reinvent ourselves to fit within the new scenario. That is what we did and are trying to do, and figures that looked manageable now seem monumental. So you can well imagine why I turned turtle when I heard that a bucket cost just about what I was seeking.
Every cloud has a silver lining and maybe this innocuous piece of news was what was needed to set me on my quest again. It is not the holy grail I seek but just the price of a bucket.
The children of the special section never cease to amaze me. Each time you step into their class you feel lifted and all your worries and woes vanish – albeit temporarily! You have barely entered that a shrill voice greets you with a loud Namaste Maa’m. It is little Sohil. And then almost in unison you hear a loud greeting from all the others in the class. The greeting is touching as even those who cannot speak or hear join in their own inimitable way. They then resume whatever task at hand, be it the vigorous morning exercise session, the tedious math problem or the complex puzzle. You have many options: you can sit and watch them or join them in their activities: you are always welcome.
The wonderful thing about these children is that they never judge you, they just open their hearts for you to walk in. It is we, the so called normal people, who spend our time surmising, criticising, judging. If we see a person that does not look, act or think like us we are quick in labelling him or her as disabled or incapacitated. We deem them as inferior and want to teach him our ways and if that is not feasible we are quick to find a way to somehow shut them way. Special kids do not expect you or anyone else to be like them.
In our special class no two children are alike. Some have fractured bodies and others broken minds, some have both. Yet they all accept each other and reach out to each other in very touching ways. We may think they have limited understanding but that is not the case. The best example is the way they treat little Radha and her brittle bones. No one ever had to explain anything to them. They understand with their heart and even the rowdiest ones like Umesh or Munna never do anything that may hurt their little pal. Radha participates in all activities be it dance or musical chairs. Instinctively everyone makes room for her and ensures that she too has her share of fun. Sohil and Himanshu, the babies of the class, are cared for by their elder friends and a perfect synergy reigns in the classroom.
They have many lessons to teach of us if only we bothered to learn. They more than anyone else have understood the true meaning of compassion, tolerance, camaraderie and team spirit. They are not wasting time in proving points or oneupmanship. If only we had the ability to emulate them, the world would be a better place.
The field was barren, rocky, uneven, patchy and strewn with empty plastic cups and bags. The players: a bunch of slum kids, an eager young German football fan and a business school student from France. The day was sunny and spirits soared high.
