I thought she would make it… but a few hours after I wrote this, she moved on and left this world. The doctors said she died of pneumonia and malnutrition. Come to think about it Pooja died starved of love. Her mother had abandoned her and her father had no time for her. She died because she intuitively knew that she was a burden to all.
Pooja tiptoed out of this world just like little Sandhya had, leaving many questions begging for answers. One again I guess, death was the kindest gift that the God of lesser children could have granted this unloved child. I wonder what would have been her life in a land where Goddesses are worshiped but little girls are not wanted.
We came to know later that the woman who had ‘adopted’ Pooja, was not quite the kind woman we thought she was. She sought such kids and then used them in different ways to earn her living. Pooja was lucky that our centre was close to were she lived as she could for a few hours just be a child. I shudder to think what would have awaited her in years to come.
Yet over the years I have leaned to look at life through a wider angle. Had the woman not come into Pooja’s life her fate would have been worse. She may have helped her father who panhandles for a living and then fritters his earnings on hooch, drugs or women, or she would have landed in some state run institution where life is dark and abysmal. Pooja could never have aspired to what life normally has in store for girls born on the other side of a fence: a loveless marriage and early motherhood laced with the acceptability that comes from wedlock. At best she may have been sold into a life of abuse. At least for some time she was cared for, just like the proverbial goat being readied for slaughter.
Pooja has left many questions that need answers and yet have none. Her death has brought to the fore the total helplessness that one feels in the wake of such tragedy and makes one wonder what one could have done or could do. Barring the few hours we can give a child in despair, we have little to offer. And yet at times like this one knows that something has to be done.
It is at time like these that the need to set up planet why seems urgent. If it did exist than may Poojas could have found a shelter and protection. If it did exist than maybe we would be able to open our eyes and hearts wider and reach out to those no one wants.
When a few days back I sent out myriad of emails in all directions seeking help to salvage a dream that was threatening to melt away into oblivion I was overwhelmed with the words of support and encouragement I received. Among them was a poem of which I quote a few lines:
When the night is out In full force And darkness Penetrates me to the source When the mind is about to yield To the fears of the flesh When the storm rises up From the gut And uneasy beats the heart
I try to stand up I try to spin a new yarn Try to survive the moment And vow to the bitter end – I will make the river bend I will make the mountain stoop I will cover the sky with imagination And uncover the face of You.From Soul Search Engine Al Raines
The words gave me great solace and the courage to survive the moment and not give up. Days passed. Deals were renegotiated. Time was bought. We had barely 6o days to save our dream. Another desperate mail was sent once again.
How I wish I had 20/30 or the whole 80 lacs said one of the answers and I was moved to tears. I could not imagine what was to ensue. A day or two later another mail from my dear friend Abhigyan simply said Let’s make a mailer on the book offer and send it out all our contacts. explaining your cause and also the offer.
Before I go further let me explain: Abhigyan wears many hats, and one of them is that of a publisher who recently launched his very own publishing house aptly named Undercover Utopia. Before I could catch my breath again another mail confirmed that the show was on the road,. Undecover Utopia had decided to save our dream by offering all the 4 books of their collection at half price and donating half of that to save pwhy’s dream.
Words are inadequate to express what I feel. I believe that the only way to salute this beautiful gesture is to ensure it meets with complete success, not so much for the dream fulfilled, but because it is an expression of all that is good in our world, something we see so little of!
I could not end this post without mentioning the books on offer. I have read and enjoyed them all. However one of them – Soul Search Engine – has stirred my soul. Read it, it is unique and everyone’s story and perhaps throws some insight into why there are some who dare walk the road less travelled.
Soul Search Engine ends with these words: “Creation is a manifestation of the one’s many ideas… every idea one step away from being alone… The meaning is for us to discover. Creation is only a stimulus. All we have to do is respond. And respond well. Everything is a great question waiting for a great answer.” Al Raines (Soul Search Engine).
Was it just a month ago that we at pwhy were all set to launch a new project. A very ambitious one I must confess and one that was not quite our own I must also admit. It all began with an idea suggested by an erstwhile well wisher, one that was so daunting that we quickly suggested a trial version as we were a little apprehensive.
What ensued was rather peculiar. As we began giving life to this idea, our resolve strengthened whereas the commitment of its initiator began to wane rapidly. I presume this happened because we were looking at different ends of the same issue.
The once intimidating thought of giving deprived children a go at the best education possible looked eminently doable. The enthusiasm of both parents and children gave the encouragement we needed to surmount whatever obstacles came our way. Necessary course corrections were made and our minds wide open to new ones if need be. That was the view from one side
From the other side things looked different. What had seemed as a win-win situation, a panacea for all ills, a great way to change society when conceived in thought started losing its shine as it was shared with others in a attempt to secure the much needed financial support for such a programme. As numbers were stated, doubts started emerging: how could one envisage spending so much for a poor kid!
The tune seemed too familiar and the conclusion foregone, the idea once held as path breaking was now found preposterous, one that needed to be quickly dropped. The fears recently voiced raised their head again bringing to the fore the invisible yet impregnable line that divides our society.
One could have comfortably slunk back into earlier days and carried on as if nothing had occurred but that would have been perfidious as one cannot put back the clock. How can one take away the hope one so patiently instilled in parents; how does one wish away the sparkle that one sees in the eyes of the children when one talks about the new project, one just has to begin.. again!
Dear to us are those who love us. . . but dearer are those who reject us as unworthy, for they add another life; they build a heaven before us whereof we had not dreamed, and thereby supply to us new powers out of the recesses of the spirit . . .
Ralph Waldo Emerson
These words reverberated in my mind this morning. Wonder why? Perhaps because the last week has been one of rejections. If you look for the word reject in the dictionary you come across this definition: dismiss as inadequate, inappropriate or not to one’s taste.
It is easy to reject and people do it with ease. Special kids are not a worthy cause to defend, a carefully crafted dream is not to one’s taste; ten years of a labour of love are inappropriate in a world where everything is coloured in dividends and returns; dreams and aspirations are inadequate as they remain intangible in our materialistic times. Today what is sought are quick and visible results.
I concede to the fact that in the world we have nurtured for almost a decade now, things take time and may seem elusive at first. A child who can barely hold her head at 5 needs years to walk her first step; one who cannot hear or speak has to muster strength from unknown depths to mouth her first intelligible sound; and the being rejected and scorned for years needs time to trust another again. But when they do walk, speak or trust it is nothing short of a miracle, one that was worth waiting for.
It is also true that the ones we fondly call our
special kids, often do not make a pretty picture. It is also true that no matter how much or how well they learn they will never be able to compete with their peers who are aid to be normal. True again that they are not a wise or sound investment. We simply cast them aside with a string of harsh or politically correct names: disabled, handicapped, challenged, differently abled.
If you have ever set your doubts and apprehensions aside and cared to enter the world of these wonderful beings, you will soon see that the above attributes better describe us than them. They accept you with open hearts and huge smiles and without any judgment. They open their world to you without restrain. They are grateful fro whatever you give them and expect no more. But that is not all. They have a secret mission, one that maybe even they are not aware of: they compel you to look at yourself with honesty and courage. The moment you have dared to look into their eyes be prepared for a journey to the depth of your soul.
As a friend once told me, special kids are Angels sent to earth to show us what we truly are capable of. So blessed are the ones who are given the opportunity to care for such souls. They give us the courage to walk that extra mile, grit to carry on in the face of all adversities till we reach our goal and realise our dreams.
So as the rejections come our way, we need to see them as a boon and be grateful to those who cast them as they alone will give us the impetus needed to defend the causes we hold dear to us and build dreams no matter how impossible they seem.
Yes dear to us are those who love us. . . but dearer are those who reject us as unworthy,
A mail dropped by. It was from a dear friend, one of the few who look with their hearts and walk that extra mile for to save dreams, particularly those conjured by others. At this moment of time he is busy saving mine. A dream that began almost a decade ago with a chance encounter between a middle aged woman and a street beggar.
The plight of that young soul confined in a useless body and a fractured mind pilloried by all perturbed the woman for many nights. Somehow she knew that she had to do something, something larger than throwing a few coins his way. And thus the dream began. The dream of giving Manu a life!
Henry Thoreau said: If you build castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. Yes, thinking of giving Manu a life, one where he could have a warm bed to sleep in and friends to laugh with and share a meal with was indeed a chimera.
My mind goes back to the first meal shared with Manu. He was still encrusted with years of dirt and abuse. We had given him a plate of dal and some rotis . He sat on a stool eating them quietly. A while later he looked up and smiled at me and offered me a piece of roti dipped in dal. I sat next him and ate. Maybe that was when the foundation was laid.
Years have passed. Manu has friends and spends the day at pwhy. He even goes to birthday parties where he shares a treat with his pals The foundation has got stronger. But Manu still does not have a bed to sleep in and a place to call his own. The foundation is still not finished. The dream will be truly fulfilled with planet why.
You can share some of the moments of the birthday party here
How I wish I had 10/20 lakhs to spare if not the whole 80! These heartwarming words dropped into my mailbox shortly after my appeal for help. They may seem anodyne to some, empty to others, and to yet others as futile as the famed if wishes were horses.. But to me these simple words are the expression of the immense love and unstinted trust that have come our way since the day we took our first hesitant step on the journey called project why and has made our every wish a reality.
Our steps grew bolder, our dreams larger and each one was backed by a wonderful network of people who saw with their hearts and never turned their back on us. Hearts were mended, hopes fulfilled and new ones crafted, and challenges accepted with new found conviction as there was always someone out there who came forward and embraced them with us.
And along the way came the ultimate dream: planet why, one that would make us come full circle and above all provide a befitting finale to my swan song. It was a dream I started sharing with all those who had made pwhy possible, hesitantly at first but as days went by with more confidence and even temerity.
Today the dream seems a reality within our reach. True that some minor hiccups came our way, but none big enough to make us stop, let alone lose faith. Once again I have been overwhelmed by the spontaneous offers of help that have come our way. True that they may seem small or even insignificant when viewed against the target we have to meet but that is only if you look at them with your eyes. When you look with your heart, each one of them is priceless.
Some have offered whatever they could spare, others have proffered words of support and encouragement that infuse us with the strength to go on. A publisher friend offered us a 50% of sale profits of books sold to pwhy supporters and donors. Many have donned their thinking caps and are brainstorming about ways to raise money. Across the world, a bevy of project why supporters are at work to make planet why come true.
I thought she would make it… but a few hours after I wrote this, she moved on and left this world. The doctors said she died of pneumonia and malnutrition. Come to think about it Pooja died starved of love. Her mother had abandoned her and her father had no time for her. She died because she intuitively knew that she was a burden to all.
