by Anuradha Bakshi | Sep 29, 2008 | Uncategorized
Kala is four year old. She lives in a small rented accommodation. Her father is a daily wage worker and her mom does household work for. Three months back another baby was born to this little family. It was a baby girl. The father was livid; he had hoped, prayed and wished for a boy. His daily drinking went for bad to worse and he began holding the mother responsible for the baby being a girl. Every night he beats his wife mercilessly. Kala watches in silence hurling abuses at her.
When the little baby was but a few weeks old,the father decided that it was time to send the mom back to work as money was needed to pay the ever increasing hooch bills. A simple solution was found: little Kala would tend to the baby while her mom worked. So every morning a little four year old was left to care for her baby sister.
Luckily for kala, the landlord was a kind a wise man.He saw the plight of the little child and decided to act. He brought the little girls to the pwhy creche to get her admitted and simply told the father that if he would not send the child then he would have to vacate the room. In a city like Delhi it is difficult to find accommodation so the father grudgingly agreed. His feeble attempt to thwart the issue by saying he did not have money to send the child was pooh poohed by the landlord who simply said he would pay all that was needed for little Kala’s school. So for the past week or so little Kala comes to the pwhy creche and reclaims her lost childhood. It is pure joy to see her play with toys, laugh and dance and be with children age. She is happy as a lark and perhaps dreams of these moments when she returns home and faces the reality she lives in.
Many thoughts comes to mind as one watches little Kala play. The first is undoubtedly the simple fact that it only takes one kind human being to save the life of a child and makes us wonder why more people do not reach out in this way. If we as concerned citizens did keep our eyes open and accepted to walk a tiny extra inch, perhaps many more girls would be able to reclaim their hijacked childhood. But there is another disturbing thought that emerges each time I come across a woman being blamed for the sex of her child. Why has there never been a wide reaching campaign explaining that the sex of a child is determined by the father. The mother cannot be held responsible for a child not being a boy. She simply accepts a seed and gives it space to grow.
Such a campaign could free many a woman from life long abuse and hurt in a country like ours where even the educated are not spared. So much money is spent on family planning and save the girl child blitzes. Simply explaining that a woman is not able to determine the sex of a child would go along way in clearing misconceptions and perhaps help the girl child in more ways than one.
It is time we shed our so called puritan ways and misplaced sense of outrage and addressed such issues in a direct and honest way and allow all little Kalas their rightful place.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Sep 28, 2008 | Uncategorized
When asked about a fantasy to be a superhero, one of the children said: “to be able to walk“. This was one of the conclusions of the recently held workshop where children had been asked to express their opinions, dreams and aspirations. The respondent in this case was little Radha who suffers from brittle bone disease and whose condition has been deteriorating day after day.
An eerie silence pervaded the room as we all knew that little Radha would never walk. For what seemed an interminable moment we sat quietly, as we gathered our thoughts and tried to come to terms with what we had heard. We were in a place where neither miracles nor dreams were permissible. There was no reprieve, not even a glimmer of hope. Every day Radha’s fragile bones looked more and more distorted.
Yet Radha has an infective joie de vivre. She also has an insatiable desire to learn and wants to do everything her pals in class do. Just like any child she wants to live life to its fullest and yes if she could be a superhero she simply wants to walk.
For the children in this picture dreams and aspirations taken on a new meaning altogether. They are not of the realm of the impossible, they simply aspire to reclaim that little part of their life that fate has usurped. Some simply want to walk, others to hear or just understand the world around them. They do not ask for much and yet we are helpless and powerless.
However we can give them is love, understanding, moments of happiness and above all acceptance. But how many of us do that. We simply cringe at the sight of one like Radha who sits awkwardly on her brittle and jutting bones and instead of gently gathering her in our arms simply walk away.
During the same workshop Preeti who walks on her hands after a bout of severe polio was asked to photograph a few of the things she disliked most. On top of her list was garbage. Sitting in our comfortable homes we may wonder why she thought so. The answer is simple. For Preeti and Radha who walk on their hands or drag themselves around, garbage is a every day reality that is uncomfortably close to them. They cannot hop over it and do not have the luxury of bypassing it. In slums you often live amidst it.
If you were to come and spend some time with the kids you see in this picture you would be overwhelmed by the love and joy they are ready to give in their own special way. They open their arms and hearts to anyone who accepts to enter their world. They never ask for anything and keep their desires and hopes locked away safely. It is only in rare moments that they share them just like Radha and Preeti did hoping that someone will hear.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Sep 23, 2008 | Uncategorized
A little two year old girl was found abandoned in bushes some days back in an upmarket suburb of Delhi. Severely dehydrated and malnourished the child was barely alive. It was later discovered that she suffered from cerebral palsy and that seemed to be the reason why she had been abandoned by her family.
The local police chief’s words “Once she is better and if we can find her parents, she will go home. If not, we’ll put her up for adoption and follow all the processes. If nobody wants to adopt her, she’ll be sent to an orphanage,” were ominous. Her family was not traced, no one came forward to adopt her and thus she was sent to an orphanage. The head of India’s adoption agency did not mince when his words when he stated on national TV that no Indian parent would ever adopt a handicapped child! And sadly this is the reality.
The children dancing in the picture above are all what we call handicapped. Some have cerebral palsy, others have brittle bone disease, polio, autism or simple MR. They too could have been abandoned in bushes or simply thrown on the streets to fend for themselves as Manu was. In our country there is scant place for anyone who does not fit the mould. Special children as we like to call them are a embarrassment, an eyesore, a burden, a millstone no one wants. Society rejects them and even the administration does not seem to care. Parents would probably like to wish them away but lack the courage to do so. They are barely tended to, let alone cared for or loved.
And yet in spite of all adversities they not only survive but display a rare zest for life. All you need to do is drop by our special section. You will be greeted by squeals of joy. It may not be your conventional greeting, the one you are used to. It could be a grunt or squeak from one that cannot talk, am energetic hand wave from one that cannot walk, a hug or squeeze from one that has never been loved. You will be invited to join the on going activity or share a simple meal if you happen to come by lunch time. These children have never been taught manners or social skills, they are only proficient in God’s Alphabet or what we call intuition and simply do what their hearts tell them do. They do not judge or gauge you in anyway. They do not care about the language you speak, the way you look or the size of your bank balance. They accept you as you are and simply open their hearts to you.
The have learnt not only to survive but to live life to its fullest if given a chance. Sadly we are not even capable of giving them that tiny chance. I wonder who is the one who is truly handicapped: we or them.
Everyday our special kids dance, it is probably the highlight of their day and each time I see them dance I am reminded of an anonymous quote I stumbled upon one day:
“We dance for laughter, we dance for tears, we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we dance for hopes, we dance for screams, we are the dancers, we create the dreams.”
by Anuradha Bakshi | Sep 20, 2008 | Uncategorized
One of the biggest reasons I want to get married in style was so that I could turn it into a fundraiser said an email I received this morning. At first I was a little perplexed but then soon broke into a huge smile that turned into giggles. What a delightful idea and though perhaps a bit avant garde it seemed to have all the ingredients to make it trend setting in a land always avid and pinning for novel ways. Are we not the city that gets bowled over by anything and everything that is large than life. Remember the flowers costing 40 million a night!
It is an indubitable fact that we like lavish and larger than life weddings. The bigger the better, the costlier the better, the larger the better, even if it becomes ludicrous to say the least. People need to spend money at weddings, it has almost become essential to their well being. It is almost a benchmark for success and this is sadly also the cause in humbler families.
The practice of donating to charity at occasions like weddings or funerals has been in existence for a long time in the west where celebration and charity often go hand in hand. Websites have even been set up to facilitate this. Some time back a young Italian couple donated us the money they would have used for bonbonieres!
If you cannot beat them, join them goes the maxim. If we cannot make people see sense and downscale the size of their celebration, perhaps one should just turn these ostentatious weddings into fund raisers. One simply needs to work out a way that would appeal to all concerned. I must admit that as I write these words I do not have any concrete ideas, but I know that there are millions of possibilities. It is really time that our big fat Indian wedding came of age.
Any ideas…
by Anuradha Bakshi | Sep 18, 2008 | Uncategorized
Things are not bright at pwhy in spite of the glowing report card we got from the recent workshop about our work and the impact we have on the life of children. The flip side of the famous SWOT was of course the fragility of our funding model, something I for one, have been painfully aware of for innumerable long nights. It was touching, infuriating and yet heartwarming to learn that everyone was aware the fact that pwhy’s life was at the present moment linked to mine and that as things stood now it did not have much chance of survival unless some drastic measures were not taken.
The King is dead, long live the King goes the saying. But maybe we need not wait for the king to die to prove the maxim right. Pwhy is facing a crisis and one could just use this to test waters. Let me elucidate.
A few months we faced a terrible crisis: a series of unforeseen events led to us having to raise a mind boggling amount of money to save the dreams of some very special children. The task was daunting, something we had never attempted: we had 70 tiny days to raise what was actually needed to run pwhy for couple of years. We managed. Wonder how? Simply by holding on to the dreams and never losing sight of them. Today the situation is the same. If we do not come up with the money needed for the next 3 months we are doomed. A pot of gold awaits us at the end of the said 3 months but we need to reach it.
I could do what I have done each time I have been faced with crises: write innumerable emails; beg unabashedly and knock at every door virtual or real. But my intuition tells me not to. And intuition is God’s Alphabet as Paulo Coehlo writes in his Manual of the Warrior of Light. Intuition tells me to use this god sent opportunity to test my team and see whether they are capable of walking the talk. Are they not the ones who just a few days back said that they were willing to taken on new responsibilities and even fund raise, that they were willing to do whatever was needed to save pwhy. The stage is theirs. Easier said than done.
It is true that there lies in each one of us a huge untapped potential, one that emerges in times of crises but therein lies the problem: what defines crises in each one of us: losing ones’ job, losing a dignified and motivating job. Or is it something deeper? Would I have fought as hard as I did, overcome situations I found galling if it was simply a matter of saving a job. I do not think so. What fuelled me with unknown passion and fervor were all the things that were at stake if pwhy was to close: the smiles of children, Manu’s home, Utpal’s school, the report cards handed with pride, Preeti jumping on a trampoline, Rinky hearing her first sound. What filled me with horror was the idea that all this could come to naught if I did not walk that extra mile. It is important for each one of pwhy’s team to find what they are fighting for, only then will they be able to make miracles. They need to realise all that would stop if they decided to do anything: the faces that would stop smiling, the children that would stop school and take the road to work, the heats that would remain broken, and more.
And if they do nothing can stop them. My intuition also tells me that time is ripe to resuscitate the one-rupee-a-day programme. Was it not the funding model created for people like the pwhy team, one that did not need special skills but simply a heart at the right place. It is time to listen to one’s intuition and sit back. Intuition is indeed God’s Alphabet and it is time to listen to the wind and the stars.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Sep 15, 2008 | Uncategorized
Yesterday was Utpal’s PTM always a special day for more reasons than one. It is a day that always begins with excitement laced with dolefulness as one knows that time will fly and the day come to a close when we will have to bid him farewell.
It is almost three years that Utpal left for boarding school. I have been there for every single PTM ans each is etched in my mind with indelible lines. I still remember the heart breaking cries that rented the air when it was time to say good bye. Then as time went by the tried turned to murmured pleas and entreaties that wrenched my soul. But then as time went by the good byes were easier though seeing him walk away clutching his little bag of carefully selected goodies was never easy.
As we drove along my heart was once again heavy as I did not quite know how to tell little Utpal that this Diwali when he comes home his mom will not be there. Sadly she relapsed and has been checked in to rehab again where she will spend a few months. And to say that we were all so happy and truly convinced that things had finally settled, that in spite of a few bouts of depression J was well into recovery. How wrong we were. The alcohol was too big an adversary, J too fragile, society too eager to draw her back into a world where she could be manipulated, her own family too weak or too greedy. The writing was on the wall: we just did not see it. Women who drink are sadly never given the second chance they deserve.
Lost in my thoughts I had not realised that we had reached the school. After the checking in formalities we went off looking for little Utpal. He was in his classroom waiting with his Kamala ma’am and his bright pink report card. The marks were good and his teacher gave glowing reports though we were told that he was very naughty. Somehow I felt comforted by those words as that meant he was happy and content. Th teacher asked me to fill up a form and as I sat to do it, Utpal stood next tome dictating the answers. When we came to the mother’s name column he promptly said ‘Jhunnu‘. My heart missed a beat and I was filled with a sense of overwhelming sadness. I wrote the six letters quietly and perhaps that is when I decided not to tell Utpal about his mom yet.
A quick trip to the hostel to meet his warden Dolly and seek her permission to give him the few toys we carried as we would be dropping back earlier than usual, then a few words with Anil Sir the PT instructor. We came to know that Utpal loved football, badminton and the Frisbee and had started skating. The music teacher revealed that he could now play happy birthday on the keyboard! All in all a successful PTM!
It was then time to take Utpal for his outing and the destination was the closest Pizza parlour. He was in a happy mood and regaled us with his antics: sipping his fizzy drink with his hands locked at he back, dancing to the rock music that blared as he ate his pizza, telling us funny stories. Time just flew and then the dreaded hour approached: it was time to take the road back. But before that we had to make a quick stop at the local store as he needed some toiletries. At the store he asked us to buy him some biscuits and carefully selected them. We were told that these were for his friends. We came to know later in the car that it was for his big friends. I guess this is what happens in all boarding schools: the gently bullying that signifies that you have been accepted.
When the time to say goodbye came there were no tears or murmured words. A very confident little boy clutched ll his packages and gave us a hug and then walked down the long corridor with a confident stride. I watched him walk away quietly wiping a tear that was threatening to spill over.
