With you, for you, always is the motto of the police of our city. Each time I see these words slapped on the side of a vehicle or on a larger than life poster I instinctively recoil. Nothing could be more untrue and the last encounter you would want to have is with the police. Somehow stepping into a police station is an experience one would not wish for anyone. It is the last place you will get help or justice.
It is with extreme sadness that I read about the young girl who had committed suicide because the police failed to act against those who regularly eve teased her. Instead of getting the justice she sought from the protectors of law, the family was subjected to harassment and intimidation. It was too much for the young girl who decided to end her life. The reason for which the police behaved in this manner was that the eve teasers belonged to some well connected political family! The police is not meant for the poor, the helpless, the downtrodden or simply the innocent.
It is sad that the police in our country still behaves as a force created by the coloniser to beat the colonised to submission. It is just that the colonisers have assumed a new avatar: that of the unscrupulous politician or the moneyed men. And no matter how many nice soundings mottoes they invent, the essence remains the same. Once you don the uniform you are given the liberty to act as you please.
We too have had our encounters with the police and each has been distasteful and vile. If we need to repair any of our centres, before we can lay the first brick the beat officer is at our door his palm extended for blood money and no matter how hard we try to appeal to his better side, it is all in vain: once you wear the uniform you lose your better side forever. If we try and go to the police station to seek some assistance, we are viewed with such suspicion that we beat a simple retreat. And how can I ever forget the case of a young woman taken in by the police because a piece of jewellery had disappeared from the house she worked in? The jewellery was found and the information given to the police station but the poor young woman was gang raped by the posse on duty. Th next day an officer did take the men to task and the woman was offered monetary compensation but that one night changed her forever and scarred her mind. She today suffers from deep psychoses.
The poor girl who committed suicide last week must have suffered extreme humiliation and known that her life too was scarred forever. She simply decided to take it away and she did. And no one could do anything to help her, specially not those who profess to be with you, for you, always!
I often like browsing through my pictures library and looking at snapshots again. They each tell a story that one somehow misses when one first glances at a new download. This picture was taken who days back, when our fantastic five where dropped back to boarding school for a brand new term. To anyone or at first glance they are just a bunch of kids back in school, posing for a shot before taking off and join the rest of their pals. And yet if one was to pause, take a little time, let one’s memory wander back in time they each have a story to tell.
How can I forget littleBabli and her shrill voice when she first told me about her heart condition. And how can I forget everything that ensued the cynical voices that tried to make us see their kind of sense, the terrible day well after her surgery I saw her dreams shattering and decided to do something, and the day when we finally took the first step towards salvaging her dreams. How can I forget Vicky, Munna’s little brother who I first met as a tiny little boy, and his family that even today struggles for a meal. Or little Aditya and his proud mommy and her terrible ordeal? How can I forget Utpal my little braveheart and the day when I first laid eyes on his little body swathed in bandages and read the hospital paper that sounded like a death sentence? How can I forget how he proved everyone wrong and became the epitome of life itself and my little miracle maker?
Today all these kids that should have never met, live, laugh and learn together and are busy crafting their morrows. Who knows what they will become: a doctor, a police, a choreographer, a musician or a teacher? The world lies waiting for them. My only prayer is that each one of them become good human beings with the ability to comprehend the fox’s secret and see with their hearts. On that day I mean not be around, but from where I am I will surely look down and remember the faces on the photograph and the very special a very special wishwish I made today.
You must watch this clip. It is our dear little Munna talking on a cell phone. It is all make belief and what is touching is that Munna is probably one of our most mentally challenged kids. And yet as you watch the clip you will see him not only talking, but making gestures and seemingly barking orders. He is urging te person on the other side to get water!
Munna loves pretend play with a phone. I wonder who and how many people he has seen using the phone and why of all the thing he sees in his own way, this is something he has retained. I would give my kingdom and more to know what goes on in his mind and how he and others like him see and perceive our world.
Munna is back. His mom brought him to class this morning and all his pals were thrilled to see him. She also wanted us to admit her younger daughter to the creche. Her older daughter studies in our primary centre and goes to government school. Vicky her other son is part of our fostercare programme and will be leaving for boarding school tomorrow.
I remember the cold winter day when I first met this family for the first time almost 4 years ago. I was aghast at their plight. We decided to help them as best we could. But tragedy seems to be a constant companion to some. Munna’s father did get a better job, this time as a bus conductor and with three of the children taken care of, things seemed to be on an even keel. Munna’s family went to the village as they do every year. They came back a few days ago and the father resumed his work. Last week the bus he works in was involved in an accident. A man died. The drived managed to flee but Munna’s dad was caught and locked up. he is still in jail. It seems that he will stay there till the bus owner bails him out or the driver is caught.
We could see the tears welling up in Munna’s mom eyes. She is a simple lady who can barely communicate in Hindi. She simply told her story. When I asked her how she would manage to feed her family till her husband came back she answered: we brought bag a bag of rice from the village. I saw the same dignity I has seen when I had first visited her and felt humbled.
Tomorrow we will see how we can help this family. Today was not the time to do so. Dignity had to be respected and the tears not allowed to flow.
After many twists and turns, many false starts and many terrible moments, Radha’s mom has finally accepted to come and work at the women centre. We had tried everything to help this little family in every which way possible, even if at moments we were close to giving up. We wanted to find a solution because little Radha is one of a kind. We even got a national TV channel to cover her story but forgot that in our land there is no compassion towards a disabled little girl. Hardly anyone came forward to help this little family in distress.
And yet to me it had sounded so simple: Radha and her mom and three siblings could have easily moved to our women centre and lived a safe and protected life. But once again I was rapped on the knuckles: we had forgotten about the extended family, the one that thought they could use Radha’s terrible condition and extract whatever they could, the typical case of the hen that laid golden eggs and was killed out of greed. And Radha’s mom herself seemed reluctant to come and live in a place that had rules and regulations. The young widow was also a free spirit.
A few days back they lost their sole means of livelihood – a food cart – and even if they retrieved it from the clutches of the police, they would never be able to set it up again: new rules were now in place and food carts were a big no no! Radha’s mom came to us seeking help again. We knew that she would not give up her extended family. She wanted to work but who would give her a job as she had a one year old she could not leave anywhere.
We offered her a job at the women centre. She could bring her baby and leave him at the creche. But there was a rider and that was that she also attend sewing classes. She accepted. Radha’s mom began her job yesterday and even attended her first sewing class. The baby played happily in the creche. I hope she settles down and continues to work with us. Once she has completed her sewing course we will buy her a sewing machine which will enable her to earn some extra money from home.
Radha’s mom will rebuild her life, one day at at time and we hope that she realises where her future truly lies.
Listening to our new HRD Minister outlining his proposed educational reforms was music to the ears and balm to the heart. He said his mantra was “expansion, inclusion and excellence” and this was not possible “if you deny access to education to every single child in the country”echoing in his own way what I have been harping about for almost a decade now.
A grading formula instead of the inane mark systems, a common Board for all the children of India, making the Xth Boards optional it all sounds too good to be true. For once the right R word is being used Reforms and not Reservations. Unifying and not dividing.
The new Minister seems to have his heart in the right place when he proposes: for instance, a municipal school building has two floors vacant. A private player can set up his classes and charge fees, while he imparts the same quality of education free to those studying in the municipal school. Personally I would have liked to hear the word common school but perhaps that is still a long way coming. I still hope it will happen one day.
This is the first time one is hearing a Minister talk for the children and not trying to fulfill and pursue some hidden political agenda. This is the first time one feels that education is in safe hands. Emboldened by what I read and hear I would like to suggest going one step further and institution an Indian Education Service on the lines of the IAS. This would bring about quality and unity in the teachers and give primary and school education the much needed acceptance.
Education is the corner stone of our society and it is time that we have it the place it deserves. I just hope that our new Minister will continue to address the situation the way he has begun. It is high time someone thought of India’s children.
With you, for you, always is the motto of the police of our city. Each time I see these words slapped on the side of a vehicle or on a larger than life poster I instinctively recoil. Nothing could be more untrue and the last encounter you would want to have is with the police. Somehow stepping into a police station is an experience one would not wish for anyone. It is the last place you will get help or justice.
