by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 22, 2009 | Uncategorized
I beg your indulgence for this post that may look very different from the ones I normally write. I seek your understanding and request you to allow me to share one of the most beautiful moments of my life: the birth of Agastya Noor, my grandson.
He landed in our lives yesterday and though I have not seen or held him, I immediately felt lifted. Somehow the arrival of this little child made me look at life in a brand new way. Is it because in a split second one had been promoted to the next stage of life, one that always entails contemplation and reflection.
His parents chose to call him Agastya after the legendary vedic sage known for his wisdom and sagacity and Noor the Arabic word for light thus breaking barriers and walls and setting the right note for his entry into a world in need of healing and peace.
I sat watching his tiny face and wondering what life had in store for him. I thought for a long time what I would wish for him. Needless to say as any dotty granny I wanted everything for him and more! But as my thoughts settled a little I realised that what I wished most for him was that he grow up with the ability to understand the little fox’s secret : It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.
Yes what I wanted the most for my grandchild was the ability to feel compassion, the wisdom to know when to stop and feel the gentle breeze and hear the rustling of leaves, the strength to feel the hurt and pain of another, to look into the eyes of the beggar child and not walk away, to walk the long road alone if need be, for I knew that with this strength in him, he would be able to scale the highest mountains but not lose sight of the earth below.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 18, 2009 | Uncategorized
Everyone is talking about Slumdog Millionaire. I have not seen the movie as it is yet to be released in India. I had read Q & A almost two years ago when the book had been recommended to me by a rather cynical acquaintance who felt I should read a book that talked about the world I had naively and bravely set out to change. I must admit that I was impressed by the clever and eminently readable way in which the author had managed to portray a world that no one is really interested in. And though it did seem a little far-fetched to think that all that was written could happen to one person, each story was a perfect cameo of the stark reality that I brushed everyday.
I had forgotten about Q & A till last week when it reappeared in its new avatar: a stunning movie that seemed set to bag every award possible. Slumdog Millionaire was the darling of each and every one and a world normally ignored and shunned suddenly became real. I myself received an email that said: I always knew about the poverty in India, but after watching the movie Slumdog Millionaire, I saw the severeness of what many young innocent children are going through.
I will not be cynical. I will not even begin to think how long will the euphoria last and how soon the world that so many are feeling disturbed about will once again be relegated to its usual status of anonymity and invisibility. I may have gone that way a few years back, but have since become inured to many things, and learnt to accept the world as it is. In the email I mentioned above I was asked many disturbing questions that all boil down to one loud and deafening WHY. Sadly I do not have the answers. I can simply say that I too asked myself those very questions many years back and not finding answers set down to finding my own. Today as the world toasts Slumdog Millionaire I simply hope that before the excitement dies down and gets overtaken by some other stunning tale, some whys are indeed answered.
However I would like to share some thoughts that have been troubling me for a long time and that once again beg to be aired. The plight of slum children that today looms larger than life on a silver screen is actually there for every one to see. Sadly there is not a red light in our big cities where a little beggar girl does not approach your vehicle or where a maimed child does not make you wonder how he or she got mutilated. It does not take much to ask one’s self why gangs that use children are allowed to exist. And yet one passes them by, wishing they were not there, quickly rolling down a window and handing a coin just to be rid of what one views at best as a nuisance. We have lost our ability to feel compassion or empathy.
It is not simply the plight of the beggar child that leaves us unmoved. It seems also to be the plight of anyone in need. And I allow myself to speak with authority as I have been walking this road for almost a decade now! In my years of soliciting and panhandling I have come across resistance of all kinds particularly when one dares step across the invisible yet impregnable line. No Sir, there are somethings that are not for the poor!
I would like to share a story here in some way our very own Slumdog Millionaire tale. Almost a year ago a set of circumstances made it possible for us to envisage giving 4 terribly deprived children the unimaginable opportunity of breaking the circle of poverty they lived in and getting the best education possible. The stage was set, the protagonists in place and everything seemed to be working to perfection. Our euphoria was short lived and the dream turned sour as the individual who had initiated the idea and promised to fund it simply walked away leaving us high and dry holding the lives and dreams of 4 little kids in our hand. There was no reality show with a pot of gold waiting to be won. We had to make our own.
What followed was a battle against all odds, one we are still waging as there was no way we could have sent these children back to the lives we had saved them from. What we were not prepared for was the attitude and reaction of those we sought help from: how could we envisage giving a slum child what is actually the hallowed ground reserved for the privileged! But we did not give up and for the last year these children were in our foster care programme where they learnt and thrived and did us all proud. Last week they sat for their entrance examinations for their new school and are now all set to join it in their respective classes. As I write these words we barely have enough funds to see them through their first year and we are looking a miracle. We know deep in our hearts that the miracle will come by. It simply has to.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 15, 2009 | Uncategorized
Take this said the desperate mother as she held out a 5oo Rs note but please admit my child. This incident occurred last week at the women centre. The women in question was a newly arrived migrant from Bihar. The child, a little five year old, watched in silence.
D, the coordinator, tried to explain to the lady that the classes were full, that there were long waiting lists and that there was no way he could do anything. She kept on insisting ad she waived her 5oo rs note. Someone must have told her that in Delhi, almost everything could be obtained with the right amount of money and five hundred rupees were definitely a handsome amount. D gently tried to explain to her that we did not function this way but she was adamant. I guess in her simple mind she could not fathom why this door was not opening, dis he not possess the magic key.
She did finally leave. D had promised that he would look into the matter and see what could be done. Perhaps in a month or two when new admissions would be considered. She put her note away still not quite comprehending why it had not done the trick.
Corruption is high on her minds these days with the Satyam Scandal. This is just another side of the same coin: the nameless and faceless corruption that permeates every aspect of our lives. It is ingrained in the very fabric of our society. It has become part and parcel of our lives. Even the simple migrant from Bihar was well honed in the ways of our world.
So how does one address the situation..
If we introspect a little, can anyone of us say with utmost honesty that we have never bent the rules? I guess not. It does not have to be money it can also be the phone call to the well placed friend, the office car used for personal work and so on. Have we not all at some time or the other paid a small bribe to avoid a fine, or to break a queue or to accelerate some paper work. Someone once told me that this was not corruption by facilitation money. I wonder what the difference really is.
The problem is that if you decide to take the long road home, the experience is nothing short of harrowing as we experienced some time back. Many of us quip that the few bills paid are well worth the wear and tear on nerves and the times wasted. They may have a point but it is my belief that corruption can only be addressed if we decide to walk the laond road, however arduous.
Can you blame the woman for brandishing her precious five hundred rupees in the hope of getting her child into what she was told was a good school. She was simply playing by the rules. It is time we took the first step towards defining new rules.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 14, 2009 | Uncategorized
Last Sunday was a very important day for our little foster kids Babli, Vicky, Nikhil and Aditya. They were to sit for their entrance exam for admission to their boarding school. It was an exciting moment for them,as somehow they knew that they were about to take their first step in a brand new world. I watched them get ready with a sense of joy and pride laced with a tinge of sadness. In the next few weeks they would leave their pals and the comfort and safety of the tiny world we had created for them with love and care.
I knew I would miss seeing them every morning as I alighted from my three wheeler and they jumped into it to set off to school. Their bright and cheerful – morning ma’am – was something I really looked forward to. But life has to move on and was this not the day we toiled towards despite all odds. I should have been elated and I was. We had taken the bold step of breaking all barriers and ensuring that these little kids got the very best.
They left for their entrance exam with their teacher Prabin. It was to be a full day affair. The children did well I was told and we await the results with bated breath but what was truly touching was the welcome that little Utpal gave them. One must not forget that he is now an old hand having spent three years in school!
From the very instant he laid eyes on them as they entered the school premises, he never left their side. He gave them the guided tour showing them his school with pride. He waited for them outside the classroom while they wrote their exam. As they were also to be interviewed and that the interview would be later in the day, he ensured that they were not bored or lost. The five kids played to their heart’s content. They also shared lunch in the big dining hall and had their fill of swings and slides.
Interview over it was time to take the road back home. Utpal saw them off as any impeccable host would and waved bye till he lost sight of the car. The children rode back in silence, their head filled with images of a new world, one that would soon be theirs, one they never knew existed as they have rarely ventured out of their dreary homes.
My eyes welled with tears as I listened to the account of the day the next morning. When asked whether they would be happy to go to the big school all four of them had said yes with aplomb and conviction, their eyes twinkling with joy an expectation. It had all been worth it: the struggle, the snide remarks, the race against so may odds to ensure the required money in time, the daunting challenge of make sure that it would continue to be so for the twelve years ahead.
My incredible 4 had respected all the rules and never wavered. For the past 8 months they had played the game like champs. They had kept their side of the bargain. It was time we kept ours.
The journey has just begun. What lies ahead is yet unknown, but somehow I know that all be well, that somehow we will overcome every obstacle and win the race. The trusting eyes filled with hope are enough to move mountains and we will. Utpal is there to hold our hand!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 11, 2009 | Uncategorized
It was Sunday afternoon. The air was a chilly though a watery sun was trying to break through the fog. The roads were empty. I normally do not venture out on Sunday. This Sunday however I took the road I take every morning to work. At the red light near the flyover close to my home lives a posse of beggars. Normally when we pass them by every morning at eight, they are still waking up. Some of them are still huddled under their blankets, others are brushing their teeth on the road side, some women are busy making tea on their makeshift stove. At that time of day you are rarely solicited for alms. Their working day has not begun.
This day was different. The space under the flyover normally teeming with beggars was empty. The only reminder of their existence was a heap of grubby bundles and bags carefully piled up in a corner. Everyone had left to take their positions at different spots.
We reached the red light and stopped. Out of nowhere sprung a little girl. She must have been two. Her feet were bare and she wore a tattered skirt and blouse that could not have kept her warm. She approached the three wheeler her tiny hand held out. I looked up at her and saw the most beautiful child I could imagine. Her eyes sparkled and were full of mischief as she enticed you into a game. She had almost perfect features and plump cheeks and looked a far cry from any beggar child I had ever seen. She looked more like the children you see on picture postcards or glitzy ads.
You could make out that she had been taught the right gestures and actions for her trade: the hand held out, the little chubby legs running from one vehicle to the other, the rehearsed speech. But that was were it ended. Was it her innocence that turned the sordid drama into a game she played with aplomb and glee. Her handler sat on the curb watching the child. She was much older and it looked as if she was assigned the task of training her. The child did run back to her often , as if she were seeking approval and encouragement. The light turned green and we moved on. As we left the little girl gave us the most endearing smile and waved merrily.
I had thought that I was totally inured to the menace of the beggar child after years of facing them at every red light you cross. I often carry biscuits and hand them over to the child that proffers his of her little hand. But the sight of this little girl changed it all. Something snapped inside me. Perhaps it was the walls I had carefully built to enable me to withstand the sight of the innumerable beggar children one comes across each day. Or perhaps was if the fact that usually, the children one comes across are either half drugged babes in arms or pesky kids well honed in the art of begging. But this little girl still had all the innocence of a child and looked at you as if you were an equal, one willing to be part of the new game she had been taught. The world I had shut away willingly had once again become real. No child, no matter how pesky should be used and abused in this way. And yet it happens each day and we just pass by.
Had I too become hardened or had I simply drawn false comfort from the fact that I was doing a great job. Was I not helping so many poor children! The sight of that tiny little girl made me feel very small and inconsequential. The work that seemed till that very instant fairly laudable looked pitiful. It would be weeks or at best months before the tiny girl lost her innocence and became one the pesky children and another still in the arms would be seen learning the tricks of the trade. But the question that needed to be asked was whether anything could be done.
Some years ago we had tried to do something for the children under this very flyover. Our idea was to run a one hour outreach programme where we wanted to try and give these kids some basic education, but we found out that this was not to be as the children formed an essential part of the begging trade as they were the ones most likely to bring in the moolah. We were rudely sent way by the rather forbidding leaders of the pack. This was a serious albeit disdainful well organised commercial activity and the children had to sing for their supper. Needless to say we left sheepishly with our great ideas and plans.
We have all heard about the sordid tales that underlie the world of beggars be it the child maimed or the ones hired for the day. Even I wrote my posts dutifully expressing my rage and then moved on. Somehow one had shut this world away as it seemed hopeless. The sight of the little beggar girl who was so different from her brood raised many uncomfortable questions.
Each one of us are in some way or the other responsible for the fact that this little girl is today learning this despicable trade. We are all guilty of dropping that fateful coin in the proffered hand and thus giving this trade some credibility and support. I know it is the easiest way of getting rid of the annoying child that knocks at your window or trails you mercilessly. But then as long as we continue doing this we give our tacit approval to the trade. These children are also citizens of this land and hence protected by its constitution and yet every single right of theirs is hijacked. They are simply a menace we have learnt to live with. We cannot remain silent and see more children’s lives destroyed. We need to act now!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Jan 11, 2009 | Uncategorized
I was wondering what I would blog about this morning. Writing a post is almost therapeutic for me and has a cathartic effect as it enables me to share what otherwise would remain bottled inside and threaten to choke me and cloud my functioning.
This morning I opened my mailbox not expecting much, it being a Sunday. A mail from the editor of a site named views point sat patiently waiting to be opened. Not knowing the sender I may have deleted in on another morning but not today. I opened it and found that it asked one to share ones’ opinion about the Satyam Scandal.
I had not planned to talk about this as I am a complete dodo with financial issues and corporate sagas. I barely find my way in the plus and minuses of the tiny project I run. I must confess that in spite of my poor grasp of things, the size of the swindle was mind blogging: 5000 crores and plus. I read the article I had been solicited to comment upon.
The article raised many issues that I have touched upon in my years of blogging: corruption, the lure of money, political nexuses and above all the need of apportioning responsibility. The author highlights the need for introspection and that is what I have tried to do and often urged others to follow.
You do not need a Satyam kind of scandal to find that we are living in an impossible imbroglio. My experience of corruption, political nexuses and greed is bases on my experience with a very tiny part of India, one that remains invisible and voiceless, where scandals go unnoticed because they are too small to increase TRPs or touch people too scared to voice their plight.
I do not know whether the real perpetrators of the Satyam scandal will be punished or whether another masterpiece in whitewashing will occur and a few fall guys will face a token punishment after an interminable legal drama. I must confess that based on my experience of the past I do not hold much hope. The Satyam scandal affects thousands of innocent hard working employees and millions of trusting investors -was not Satyam one of the no risk company-?
The nameless and faceless scandal I refer to is the one that touches scores of millions of people each day as they set out on another day of survival: the weekly tithe to be paid to the local beat cop so that one can set up one’s tea stall or food cart; the wad of now crumpled notes saved over months that need to be handed over to the wily tout to secure a coveted job in some remote government department, a job that will never come your way, only the size of the wad increases; the other wad of money borrowed at some astronomical rate from the local money lender so that one’s drunk husband can be released from the police station and so on. The list is endless. Corruption is rampant and has reached the tiniest crevices of society.
Can I dare hope that the Satyam scandal will perhaps awaken us of our slumber and our ataxia and make us say enough is enough. For only when each one of us mouthes those words will things begin to change. And that means not paying a bribe to the traffic cop when you bust the red light but accepting to go to the court and pay your fine and so on. The list is again endless and in each case the price to pay heavy! But I am convinced that corruption can be defeated only when each one of us agree to do so and stop wanting to cut corners. Looks daunting and almost impossible. That is where the need for introspection lies.
The Satyam scandal raises another question: the lure of money and the extent of one’s greed. How much is enough. That is again a question begging for an answer. I can easily say that I have curtailed my needs to a bare minimum since I embarked on the pwhy journey. The flip side is that I am constantly panhandling to meet the need of others. I guess the bottom line here is that the sky the the limit provided you go about garnering your wealth with honesty and hard toil. Sadly the consumer society we live in, the lure of materialistic ware aptly promoted by the idiot box and the access to credit makes it all very difficult and quasi impossible. So where does wisdom lie, or rather how does one build the right set of values in each one of us? More questions that need urgent answers and yet there seems no one who can give them.
I normally am not a cynic. If I were I would never have created pwhy. But faced with the present scandal I cannot but say that I have scant hope that anything will happen. Memories are short, and soon everything will be forgotten as another scandal aptly fanned by TV channels will replace this one. Life will just continue as always and I will go back into my world trying to change one life and then another hoping against hope that a miracle will come our way.
