by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 10, 2007 | Uncategorized
Yesterday a leading TV channel aired a programme on slum tourism. What held my attention was the comment made by an activist who went to say ‘ I very strongly feel that this is the worst kind of human rights’ violation or I would go on to the extent of saying that its an abuse of its own kind.’
In the past years slum tourism or reality tourism has been formalised by certain NGOs as a means of raising awareness and much needed funds. It may look voyeuristic to some and appalling to others and many would condemn it and maybe I would have too, ten years back before pwhy came into existence.
It is easy to become guardians of morality and jump to conclusions without giving it much thought. I guess what is abhorring in this instance is the fact that foreigners are the ‘tourists’. We Indians would not sign up for such a tour. Come to think of it we it we are so inured that we do not even see what stares at us, bet it in newspapers, TV shows or simply on the street or at a red light.
I remember how offended I felt many years ago at TV programmes in Europe that showed India either as a poverty ridden land or as one of snake charmers or turban headed Maharajahs. I wondered why other achievements were not highlighted. That was then, before pwhy, before my own brush with reality and my own struggles at getting my country fellowmen to open their hearts and part with a coin to reach out and help others.
To the activist that cries out human right violation and abuse I would like to ask why there are still children who roam the streets in India, who are used and abused by the like of us and above all why we chose to remain silent or simply turn away.
It is sad but true that getting support within our own country is quasi impossible and that many of us who try and alleviate the situation have to extend our begging bowl beyond frontiers and share our disturbing reality. Then we are all guilty of the same though we do it in a covert way. Is that what makes it acceptable, as if that were not the case then we are all guilty of abuse and human rights violation. The flip side is that if we did not do it, then we would wind up our activities.
In the last year or so many children and others have received help because their stories were highlighted by the media. Is that a human right violation too? I wonder.
It is easy to sit in judgement but I would implore people who do so to think before they condemn or to give viable alternatives. Tourism with a heart or voluntourism is here to stay and speaks volumes for the new ways in which we should look at things in a world where globalisation is the preferred mantra. That an NGO should propose a slum tour to people visit India should not be anathema. It should at best makes us think and resolve to do something.
But sadly this seems wishful thinking. On human rights day a picture of children ploughing fields in land belonging to a minister’s family will once again be swept away to suit political ends and public memory too will fade. This happens far to often for comfort.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 9, 2007 | Uncategorized
Saturday December 8th was a very special day for a bunch of disabled kids, but more so for a very special young woman whose mother I have the privilege to be. A TV crew was coming to share their lunch.
The morning was spent in a frenetic bustle of cleaning, sprucing up, shopping and cooking. Everyone was excited and time seemed to stand still. Everything was set: the newspaper mats woven by the kids, the unopened lunch boxes, the freshly made aloo pharathas that were in the Saturday cooking class menu, and the project lunch of rice and dal that was always there for those who brought nothing.
Lunch has always been an important issue at pwhy’s special section as we have always held that parents of disabled children need to be made aware of their responsibility and treat them as they would treat a ‘normal’ child. However the staff lunch is always there to ensure that no kid goes hungry.)
Finally a phone call announced the imminent arrival of the TV crew. What followed was pure magic, or rather the miracle we had all been waiting for since eight long years. For the first time ever someone from the world out there came and shared a moment with these beautiful kids. It is true that they have been filmed many times for diverse shows and programmes but in reality it has always been from the outside or the edge. This was the first time that someone, stopped by all the lunch boxes and served plates and dug into them no matter how cold and congealed and unappetising the food looked. The moment was so heartwarming that Geetu our 2o year old fed the young dashing anchor with her own hands.
The food turned to manna from the Gods or a three star chef’s creation as years of yearning to be accepted and valorised laced it with a unique flavour no one could miss. Soon it was time to wave good bye and I too left the premises for another appointment.
It was only later in the evening when I got home that the true meaning of that day would enfold for me. A deeply moved Shamika asked me for the number of the TV producer as she said she needed to thank him. This was a first as Shamika is normally a reserved person. After many attempts she got the person and started thanking him but as she talked her emotions choked her, and she burst into sobs. It was then that I realised the real meaning of that lunch that almost did not happen.
It was like a dream come true for this young woman who at the age of 15 decided to work with special children and help them get their rightful place in society. A place where they too could be accepted and cherished. Lost in my own struggles I had not discerned how each rejection had touched my own child and how hurt she had been at each step. It also made me understand her initial reluctance at accepting this show. But above I became aware of how momentous the moment had been for her. I could not hold my own tears as I hugged her tenderly.
Today the kids are all going to troupe in to one of the teachers home to see this programme on TV. It is a moment I would not miss for anything!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 8, 2007 | Uncategorized
Yesterday a leading TV channel called asking whether they could film lunchtime at pwhy! This was for a segment in a daily lunchtime programme that highlights the lunch hour in different parts of the city. I guess someone decided that it would be good copy to go and peep at the other side of the fence: the slum kids.
Now at pwhy the only kids who stay the full day are the special ones and they are the ones who have lunch. So I told the young ebullient reporter that we would love to have them come by and share a meal with our special bacchas! Though we were on talking on the phone, I could sense the moment of hesitation and ensuing awkwardness. I could imagine the million unformulated questions that were crowding his mind as sadly one knows what images the word special or disabled or even handicapped – however politically incorrect – conjure in people’s mind. But I was not the one to give up.
After a mumbled I will get back to you the phone went dead. Shamika who is a very possessive mother figure to her brood of 20, was up in arms but I held on and redialled the number as I remembered that Saturday was cooking day at the special section and delectable aloo paranthas were on the menu. I also told the reporter that these children were just like other kids and though they may not have the same way of communicating as us, they were totally able to express their feelings. Less than a month back they had hosted a group of special children from France and shared a great meal with them!
There was another I need to check with my producer and will get back to you but blissfully some time later a confirmation call came and our bacchas will hopefully be part of that programme.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Nov 29, 2007 | Uncategorized
Today is November 29th.
Exactly 15 years ago papa left this world leaving behind a huge hole that nothing could fill for many years.
Seven years ago project why began its first hesitant spoken English Class in a tiny shack with 20 eager eyed kids and I instinctively knew that the emptiness that had been gnawing at me for so many years was slowly going to be filled.
Ram taught me many things. From absolute surrender to a greater force, to unwavering faith in the destiny of India; from the delights of life king size to the undiluted joy of sharing a humble meal, from erudite books of diverse culture to the soothing lilt of a bhojpuri lullaby. But the greatest lesson I still think he gave me was a the answer to a simple question I had asked as a child: where do I find God. His answer was simply: in the eyes of the poorest, most deprived child.
When I look back at the last seven years I feel blessed and overwhelmed. To many pwhy may look like any other organisation that dot the planet in a world where charity has become a lucrative business. But that is not quite the case. Pwhy is and has been a deep seated journey that had to be undertaken to give meaning and substance to the greatest gift we are all endowed with: life! To many again it may seem haphazard and undefined albeit rudderless particularly in a world where everything has to have a mission, a goal, a structure and is then evaluated by statistics and returns. If one were to adopt this canon than pwhy would fail miserably one many accounts as it often defies all logic. I must confess that at times I too have had difficulties in explaining what and who we are.
But this morning, almost ominously a volunteer who had spent a month with us this summer shared some the entries of his journal. As I read an account of pwhy through other eyes I realised the essence of what it truly was:
A little boy started crying after his father left him at school. Seeing this, Komal (age one) went over and tried to wipe the boy’s tears with her hands. When that didn’t work, she began patting the boy’s head like a big sister. The comforting went on for 15minutes, but the boy didn’t stop. At last, Komal sat beside him and started crying with him. That did wonders – the boy stopped crying,and Komal dried her tears too. That brought a sense of warmth to my stale heart, and a smile that was truly radiated from within. Komal’s bright eyes filled with curiosity and innocence made me realize what I was missing out in these past 2 weeks.
I had come to India in the hope of finding spiritual inspiration and perhaps even enlightenment, yet all I experienced was a dead soul amidst the daily buzz and “cultural immersion”. In reality, God has been everywhere around, in the winds of the morning, the rustle of the leaves, the colourfulsarees, the buffalos on the streets, the crows and pigeons, the partying flies, the filth of the slums, the stares of the locals, and most importantly, the laughter and tears of all the children I have come across. In trying to do “something constructive” and paying too much focus on the language barrier, I’ve neglected the fact that baby angels are valued for their purity (even innocent evil), and teachers appreciate it when I push on with them everyday in the hot and stuffy room when the electricity gets cut, drowning in my own sweat without any complaints.
For a moment it felt like I was the protagonist in Tagore’s Gitanjali– the one who sought Him but couldn’t find him anywhere, and eventually found it in the workers and the stone cutters. India’s poetic appeal – and perhaps its spirituality- is that beauty in the ugliest or most trivial of reality, under the harshest circumstances.
These simple words coming from the heart of a young sensitive man showed me what pwhy really truly was and filled my heart with peace and joy as I knew that I could finally give up my half hearted attempts at trying to fit it in restrictive boxes and allow it to flow freely. Just like a river it would take the shape of the land it crossed till it reached its final destination and merged in a greater entity.
And I also knew that the huge hole that had crept into my heart when Ram left had been finally truly filled. A wonderful gift Ram gave me before he left this world.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Nov 26, 2007 | Uncategorized
It was a wake up call in the true sense of the word!
This morning at 4.43 am the earth shook and though the magnitude was small (4.3 on the Richter scale) the epicentre was just a few kilometres from Delhi. I had just lit my prayer lamp and was about to start my morning prayers when grit from a crack in the ceiling fell on my head, windows shook and a loud rumble was heard.
It was a mild quake and the met department felt no damage would occur and Delhi would wake up to another day. Nevertheless it was a wake up call in more ways than one though it may once again go unheard.
Laws will be broken with impunity and alacrity and man will resume his hubristic roller coaster ride not heeding the gentle warning nature sent our way. Buildings will be built on river banks, trees will be chopped down to make way for more roads and more cars, concrete jungles will expand. more plastic will choke drains, carbon foot prints will become gargantuan in size and global warming increase by quantum leaps till Nature sends her next warning which may not be gentle.
It was also a wake up call of another kind. One that highlights the frailty of human nature and precarious nature of our lives, dreams, plans and morrows. A wake up call that compels us to stop and think in more ways than one. About all the things that remain to be done, all the words that need to be said, all that we often put off because we feel there is so much time left.
But more than anything else I felt it was time to express one’s gratitude for everything life had brought one’s way. To express appreciation for the obvious we take for granted, for the little things we fail to see. To give meaning to the two words we use in far too trivial a manner: thank you.
And I realised there were so many thank yous I had failed to convey. Not that one did not want to, but because one felt one had enough time. The list is endless but maybe it can be summed up by simply murmuring a gentle thank you for every moment I have lived.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Nov 25, 2007 | Uncategorized
Designers uniforms for Government school children screamed the news headline. There must be something wrong was the thought that sprung in my mind. But no, I had read it right government school children in Delhi would soon have designer uniforms and geometry boxes which in the words of the man in charge of education in our city would ensure that they should not lag behind: they being the poor students!
Something must or should be wrong. The idea was puerile and hare brained more akin to a chapter in Alice in Wonderland or a Groucho Marx movie. A deluge of thoughts crossed my mind. Wow a new way to line pockets had been found and that on a day where a leading news channel was busy highlighting the abysmal failure of the (ill)famed midday meal. What about drinking water, toilets, proper classrooms or at least teachers who teach Mr Minister.
And talking of uniforms themselves, the reality today is that kids rarely get their uniforms in toto and in time, or their school books and all else that is promised. maybe one should first ensure that was is meant to be functions properly before launching new schemes.
But is this the tale of all development programmes in India. They look good only on paper or in speeches but never truly see the light of day. It is time that we as civil society and tax payers ask some hard hitting questions.
