by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 14, 2007 | Uncategorized
When manoj’s mom came to us a year back carrying her tiny awkward child, we knew she was a woman in need of help so not only did we take her son in our creche, but gave her a part time job at home.
Madhu is a tiny chit of a woman with a strong spirit and she quickly adapted to our ways. A hardworking woman she went about her work quietly. We were shocked beyond words when we realised a couple of days back that she was 7 months pregnant. She has hid the fact too scared that she might lose her job.
Madhu slowly shared her story, and told us about the drunk husband that beat her with obsessive regularity, about how he threatened to throw her out if she got rid of the unborn child. She spoke about the numerous days when they went without food as the husband flittered his money at the watering hole, she told us about the windowless and airless room they lived. She said it all without bitterness or anger but with the strange fatalism that is the rule with many a woman in India. No she had not chosen this man but had been married off by her parents at the tender age of 16.
Madhu is resigned to her fate as she knows that she has no option. In a few weeks she will have another child who will feed on her already emaciated body. Her husband will beat her some more and she will bear it all as she has no options.
Women like Madhu are examples of the plight of the girl child who is seen to be a burden from the time she lands on this planet and is got rid off as soon as possible. And yet there is a spirit that lives in her tiny body one that will never get the chance to manifest itself.
Like many women Madhu will survive, that is the best our world has to offer.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 8, 2007 | Uncategorized
One will spend life in jail, the other is waiting for the gallows. They both thought that their political connections could give them licence to kill and get away with murder. But they did not. Public opinion ensured that and Jessica Lal and Priyadarshini Matoo got justice at last.
In September a professor was killed in front of hundred of people. Only 4 came forward and I remember writing about one of the them as in him one saw hope as he stood by what he believed was right. In the TV interview aired then he did mention his fears. At that time he was given police protection and we all hoped against hope that he would testify.
Yesterday all the four witnesses turned hostile, including Komal Singh Senger. Today the key accused moved the High Court for bail. In five months the powers that be had fixed every thing.
Original video tapes were doctored, and the prosecution’s case was full of glaring lapses. Now the family’s only hope is that the case is handed over to the CBI.
It all looks like a repeat of the previous cases.
Though many may blame the four witnesses there are a few questions that come to mind. Here again it was a murder that took place in a crowd that had professors, students, political leaders and many others, yet the witnesses were all simple peons. Wonder what happened to all the others. In September footage of the beating was aired over and over again by all channels. The final footage shown during proceedings omitted crucial scenes. Witnesses who should have been protected were left to their own devices and at the mercy of political goons. Wonder what threats or lollies were proffered.
The family has given up hope. Will public opinion rise again and see that justice is done. Seems a sad reflection of the reality we live in if in every single case justice will depend on whether the media will start a campaign or not.
Where is ou collective conscience gone? Don’t we realise that this can happen to one of us?
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 7, 2007 | Uncategorized
Many years back, when the first fast food outlet opened in Delhi – I think it was a pizza something – I told many friends that they would never be able to compete with our own desi brand of fast foods: the zingy chats, piping hot samosas, delectable and sinful poories and melting hot jalebis -. Ask any LSR student of yore years about the gooey peas chat – mattar chat -and you will be treated to a Proustian expression. And how can we forget the oily but scrumptious bun omelet that has satiated many a hungry student.
Street food has been a tradition in Delhi, one that has withstood the test of time. An interesting outcome of globalisation is this tradition as now you can have chowmein, and momos and swharma at any street corner in India’s capital city. Just a few years back one had to make a trip to Delhi Haat to have a plate of momos, now we just walk down the street from our Govindpuri centre and get them.
This is post is not a trip down memory lane, neither is it a gastronomic review. It is an appeal to the powers that be not to take away the soul of our city and leave us rudderless as today’s papers rung the death knell of one of the oldest institutions of this city.
Street food is the grand old tradition in Delhi from the times when Kkhomchewallahs (street vendors) used to come to one’s doorstep to sell all kinds of snacks, chaats, ice creams, sweets and more. And yet the Supreme Court has decreed their demise. With a stroke of the pen our highest judicial body has wiped away an age old way of life. The erstwhile street vendors are now to be replaced by pre packed food. Just imagining a cold chola bhatura makes me lose my appetite.
True that hygiene is sometimes not quite up to the mark, but it is also the case in outlets that run from kiosks. Those who have been to Nehru Place must have seen how food outlets operate even though they run from supposedly legal spaces. Somehow the planners forgot simple things like water points!
But there is also a grimmer side to this decision. If street vendors are not allowed to operate many people will lose their jobs and many families will sleep hungry. On the other hand the popularity of these vendors is visible and one wonders where the people who eat there will go.
Just down our gali is a man who sells hot poories and lovely potato subzi. A plate of 5 poories, subzi and a bit of curd comes for 6 rs. Every morning as we drive by the smell of the poories is enticing. The place is crowded with young office goers who have no families, workers, auto richshaw drivers and others busy gobbling their hot morning breakfast. I must confess that I too have succumbed to the temptation and partaken of the treat many times.
The decision to have these vendors only sell food cooked at home and wrapped in some plastic container is the pits. Once again we have been struck by the now sated option that our administrators have made theirs: rather than face problems and find solutions, pass them on or do away with the problem altogether.
In the frenzied rush to make Delhi another Singapore or Shanghai, one cannot forget the millions who serve this city and ensure it runs. One cannot wish away people and institutions that have survived many a storm. They have to remain as they give the city an identity. Imagine Paris without roasted chestnuts, or Singapore without the morning soup vendors. What needs to be done is ensure stringent regulations, subject vendors to rigorous testing and give them assigned space. But do not subject us to cold samosas or pre-packed chat! Our desi fast food can compete with any burger giant if it is allowed to survive!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 5, 2007 | Uncategorized
I cannot remember when I last stepped off the whirling world to take a breath and muse over days gone by. Life went on at a frenzied pace and there never seemed to be time to take a pause and cast the much needed critical look.
One may wonder what set off these musings. Simply an empty inbox on my screen.
For the first time in many years did I wake up to an unread (0) status on my email. This triggered a series of questions in my mind and to answer them I realised that one had to take a pause and look back.
The past year has been a rewarding one, when many obstacles were cleared and life set on an even keel. It was a year when many little broken hearts got fixed, when a little boy and his mom were rescued from a life of hell. It was also a year when pwhy took on a new role and reached out to free little girls from the hands of their abuser, a year when a little boy defeated all medical rules and sprung back to life. It was also a year when new friends came forward to support us; a year when we even got our own little building and began a new centre. A year to be celebrated and feted.
It is true that many of the things mentioned above were already being done but the difference this time is that it all came easy. I remember with a tinge of regret the days when every new programme was a challenge. I remember with nostalgia how every tiny need entailed hordes of emailing and was gathered painstakingly cent by cent. I also recall the abundance of mails of support one got and the immense positive energy generated, the thrill one felt when someone committed some support however infinitesimal.
And today an empty mailbox that speaks volumes. Am I being once again faced with a new avatar of the dreaded comfort zone syndrome. Maybe. But this is one I need to fight to the hilt as it may sound the death knell of the very essence of pwhy.
Pwhy could only happen because so many people across the globe came together and infused it with life. Pwhy could succeed because of the immense support I got each and every time I sought it. And no matter how easy seeking funds becomes, pwy can exist if and only if it continues to get the love and goodwill of people.
There can no more be empty inboxes as money alone can never sustain pwhy. After all pwhy is just a simple love story.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 4, 2007 | Uncategorized
I have always hoped that some day we will have lots of little primary extensions so that more and more children remain in school. And it has been my dream to do this by drawing all resources from the community.
Our little Nehru Nagar class is a step in that direction as the classroom is a jhuggi in which people live. As they are out the whole day they leave us their home, bed and all. Sophiya and Satish tuck themselves and their pupils wherever they can and classes go on in earnest.
From the very moment we began, I knew that if we were to make a difference, we had to create a model wherein all resources came from within. The last seven years has vindicated this view as both space and teachers are in-house. But we are still dependent on outside help for the funds needed to run.
The solution of course lies in our ability to market our one rupee a day dream in the right packaging to my peers and my pwhy parents.
We are slowly getting there with baby steps and hope written large!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Feb 4, 2007 | Uncategorized
Yesterday I dropped by my Lohar (gypsy)friends. My conditioned being expected to be greeted by long and sad faces as their homes had been raised to the ground just a few hours before that.
My heart did miss a beat as I alighted from my three wheeler and saw them all sitting in front of their erstwhile homes, their belongings strews all over. However as they saw me their faces lit up in the customary huge smile as many ladies came and hugged me
As we walked towards the space where our classroom was, I was amazed to see that in front of each ‘home’ the fire was lit, the tools laid out and men and women at work. Every faced smiled and someone ran to get the two new members of the clan: little Tania (3 months) and tiny Sagar (1month). The class was as full as ever and every child eager to show off. It seemed that barring the fact that roof and walls had gone, life was still on!
This has been the place where these 30 odd families have lived for over 25 years. I wonder what our reaction would be if someone broke the walls of our home and took our roof off! Gypsies are known for their resilience but what I saw today was more than that, it was a free spirit that refused to give up, a mind where fear had no place. They had perfected the art of zen survival.
As I walked back I was reminded of Tagore poem:
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action—
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
Here where a bunch of people who held their head high, we are the ones who let them down.
Note: there are 1000 odd gadiya lohar familes who have lived in Delhi since the fifties. they were promised relocation that they never got. They however were given voter’s ID cards.
