I often borrow the title of the famous Neruda poem: I’m explaining a few things, to share my thoughts when things need to be explained. Today the need arose because of the comments on FB to my last post. The post was prompted by an incident that happened in Pune, where a child who sold balloons was thrown out of Mc Donald’s simply because he was poor. Never mind that he was accompanied by one who was ‘rich’. I had recalled the visit of some of our kids to a Mc D’s and the fact that they were well treated. The Pune incident simply validated my theory of the 2 Indias. Had our kids been treated like this, I would have brought the roof down!

The comments of course pertained to the wisdom of taking our kids to a such a place. Let me say unequivocally that I am against it for all the reasons stated in the comments and many more. But on the other hand I will not accept that a child be denied entry into any place because of his or her being poor.

Now, if you have read the comments, you will see that the choice was made by some of the teachers in spite of our lovely supporter who would have preferred taking them to a local eatery where they would have got real and not plastic food. It is difficult for many to comprehend this. Let me tell you it took me a long time to do so. I will try and explain it to the best of my ability.

As you may be knowing, all project why staff comes from underprivileged homes. Many of them would have remained in their homes, cleaning other people’s homes had we not landed in their street one fateful day.

Over the years I have seen many of them slowly and sometimes imperceptibly climb the social ladder. It could be seen in their dressing, in their acquiring new gadgets, in their desire to question and so on. It could also be seen in their falling prey to the seduction of commercials on TV that made them feel empowered should they follow them. They became house proud, often so proud that you would have all lights on and two TV sets running even if a room was empty. It was a sense of having reached!

The game spoiler and party pooper was me and my ilk who talked endlessly of saving energy, not using plastic bags, not wasting water, not eating all the foods endorsed on the box by their favourite Bollywood stars. I soon realised that there was almost a sense of bewildered resentment as these were things they had just begun to enjoy, things we had enjoyed before we realised their true value. Mc D’s is one of the most prominent commercial.

Now I am a true tartar when it comes to these matters and no one would dare suggest taking the kids to Mc D’s but when they see a tiny window of opportunity then they jump at it.

I guess it will take time for them to understand things and we need to tread slowly. It takes a generation for a migrant to come to a city and be in a position to acquire things. A generation of hard work, of living in abysmal conditions, of barely surviving before being able to enjoy the fruit of their labour.

They will learn. We just need to give them time.

But once again, whether Mc D is good for you or not, it cannot deny entry to anyone based on his or her social status.

“You better be there on 26th. I will call you and tell you the time. It will be such fun. And Maam’ji I will enter the dance competition and will win!” These were the words an excited Utpal told me as he left for boarding school last week after a month at home. He was so looking forward to the fair. Last year he was new in school and did not know about the yearly Republic day fair teeming with rides and yummy food stalls and even a DJ and dance competition. Since January 26th 2014, Utpal had been looking forward to 26 January 2015 when he had hoped that we would come and enjoy the fair with him.

Yesterday evening a very forlorn Utpal informed me on the phone that there would be no fair this year because of ‘some bama’! You see the fair has been cancelled because of the Obama visit. I wonder how a Fun Fair located in a remote place a good 20 km away from the Obama show is a security threat. At best, the rides could have been removed one day later.

So for Utpal and his almost 2000 pals it will be no joy rides, no yummy food, no dance competition that you could win! And win he could have as he attended one whole month of hip hop classes during his holidays and did so diligently come rain or cold. I guess the day scholars will stay at home and the boarders will have to content themselves roaming the empty and silent ground that should have been filled with fun and laughter.

Has the cancellation of such a fair been an over reaction by our security wizards or is there a logical reason. Even my fertile imagination cannot find one. At best it would be the difficulty in carting material across a city that is soon going to be locked down. Anyway, I and other citizens of India cannot go to India Gate for a week because of the Obama visit.

Terrorists strike almost at will. There are countless examples of this. Even the latest Paris attack was done by people who were on a watch list.

Many questions come to mind. The first is how do explain this to children. Is it not a sad reflection on our society and our world that terror has become an integral part of child’s knowledge bank. A few months back I was saddened to read the letter that my grandson’s school sent to all parents at the time of the Ferguson verdict. Here is an extract: If necessary, we will go to a shelter-in-place or lockdown mode at impacted schools. Shelter-in-place indicates that all exits to school are closed and no one is allowed in or out of the building. Lockdown indicates the same, with the added precaution of interior doors also being locked and all staff and students remaining in their room or another safe location. You will be notified via Bright Arrow if either of these are activated and notified again when it is safe to pick up your child(ren) at school. Heads of School will determine what level of security to activate at their individual school. 

My Agastya is 6. Mercifully nothing untoward happened but the fact that things have come to this is so terribly sad.

The second question that comes to mind is: how far will all this go and is this the right approach. Today it is only part of the city that is partially locked down but there may be a day when the visit of another Mr Bama will entail all of to be told to remain in our homes.

Is it not time to take the bull by its horns and find out how to contain and eventually stop these acts of terror. Find out the reasons that have allowed terror to take such proportions and above all to be willing to accept that maybe we are in some way also responsible. But that is not easy. Sure it has taken time for matters to reach this point and will take time to unravel the web, but we need to begin or else our children will grow in a world with no fairs and dance competitions. Is that what we want.

I have often written about the two Indias that exist, separated by an invisible yet impregnable wall. The picture above is my creche kids, all slum dwellers, enjoying a Happy Meal at Md Donald’s Kalkaji. Yes I know fast food is bad for your health and am not one tom-tom its values. Far from that! But the kids had been taken out for an outing by a dear friend and this was a treat. And maybe also a cheeky way pf crossing that impregnable wall, armed with all the ammo needed should anyone have objected. The staff of this outlet was gracious and kind and the kids enjoyed the Happy meal. I guess they loved the toy more than the bland burger but who cares. It was our moment in the sun.

But last week a little boy in Pune had a horrific experience. The little boy was selling balloons outside the outlet when a young woman decided to give him a treat and buy him a float. A security staff immediately intervened and pushed the poor kid allegedly stating:” These kind of people are not allowed here.“The young woman shared this incident on the social network and the it seems the errant staff has been suspended.

This incident is not an isolated one. It is actually a telling reflection of the two Indias I often refer to. I have experienced it time and again. How can I forget how shocked a bunch of ladies from the other side of the wall were when I told them that we had eight kids from extremely deprived homes studying in a ‘upmarket’ boarding school. To them it was unacceptable. And what about the owner of again an ‘upmarket’ pre-school who wanted me to take the child of one of her employees in my creche. Could she not have just admitted the child in her own institution. I would give her the benefit of the doubt as probably it was blot her, but the parents of her ‘upmarket’ children who would have objected.

Needless to say that the kids who are enjoying the mandatory 25% reservation in all schools do not come from the most deprived homes. This reservation seems to have been God sent to middle class parents who are clever enough to fulfil all the paper work, even if it means bending the rules, and get their kids admitted to fancy school for free. What a win-win situation. The schools would not have liked having awkward looking kids in their mist, would they?

In spite of all their, efforts activists in favour of a common school failed miserably, though in my opinion that would be the real game changer in India and a real win-win situation. The reason is simple: how can my driver/maid/gardener’s kid share a bench with my kid! It is blasphemy! And as long as this mindset persists, some kids will be thrown out of Mc Donald’s and their clones.

Before sending our children to boarding school, we ran a one year residential programme for the where they attended a pre-school and then were groomed by us. We did not want them to be lost when we pushed them across the invisible wall. So we thought them to sit at table and eat with a fork and knife; we took them to Mc D and Pizza joints and introduced them to the toys and games that ‘upmarket’ kids play with. And when the moment arrived, they took to the school like a fish to water and never looked back. Many of them are doing exceedingly well and they are just like the other kids, if not a tad better.

The Rubicon has to be crossed, sooner rather than later.

I hope and pray that one day, it will dawn on our so called rulers to bring down the walls once for all.
But I know I am a dreamer.

As I opened my mailbox today, I saw a mail entitled: India’s education policy needs a complete overhaul! I opened it and found a link to an article bearing the same title. The author is an eminent educationalist. The opening paragraph is spot on: I was glad I did not know the boy standing on the high diving board, hesitating to take the leap. As I walked past, I realised it was the perfect analogy for India and her education issues. We still have to take that leap. It is known that the waters will be chill for a while, there will be shock; it will take some courage to take the leap, but it must be done. Standing up on the diving board only exposes oneself to fear and vulnerability; it won’t get us to a place where we can at least join the race, forget about winning it. These are exactly my thoughts and feelings. It is high time India took that leap, no matter how scary or shocking. Waiting is no more an option.

I read the article with interest. The big leap, as the author says, is different thinking. One was hoping that the new dispensation would address primary education head on, but it seems to be frozen on that diving board. A few cosmetic changes prompted by ideologies or other factors will do more harm than good. The author suggests that education should not be viewed as pouring money into a dark hole but as an investment. She goes on to say that education should also be viewed as essential infrastructure, influence and inspiration.

I agree with most of what is proposed but also realise that such mind shifts will take time and the one thing that education does not have is time, and while these ideas are accepted and then made into policy many will have missed the boat.

What we also need is bridge options that would benefit those in school today. In a small way that is what we try and do at project why. It may not be the ideal solution, but is better than nothing. As the author says, there are 12 million people entering the work force every year so let us say the new policy takes 5 years to be implemented 60 million will have moved on.

In the fifteen years I have been associated with education at the lowest end of the spectrum I have witnessed first hand the nitty gritty of education as it is imparted in state run schools. To sum it up in a word: pathetic! Overcrowded classes, disinterested teachers, scant teaching, poor infrastructure. The fact that 33% is the pass percentage, what you get at end of the line is poor quality. Maybe the first step that should be taken if anyone is interested in quality education, is to raise the pass percentage to 50%. It is a simple an easy step, provided you are truly interested in educating children across the board.

Then the sum of our education is rote learning of things you barely comprehend and regurgitate at every exam and as you need a mere 33% to pass, the writing is on the wall.

I am not an educationist or an expert in policy making. My wisdom, if I may call it so, comes from the fifteen long years I have spent with the very children that are been talked about. All is well I presume on the other side of the fence as the lapses and shortcoming of our existing system is taken care of by the support of the family ably aided by a myriad of things ranging from tutors, to learning material, access to knowledge banks virtual and others laced with love and understanding.

However, on the other side of the fence, education is often limited to what the school imparts, and in some cases with the addition of what organisations like ours give.

When I began this journey, I was deeply impressed by the four pillars of education as enunciated by Jacques Delors. These are: learning to know (the development of knowledge and skills that are needed to function in the world. These skills include literacy, numeracy and critical thinking), learning to do (involves the acquisition of skills that are often linked to occupational success, such as computer training, managerial training and apprenticeships), learning to live together (involves the development of social skills and values such as respect and concern for others, social and inter-personal skills and an appreciation of the diversity) and learning to be ( involves activities that foster personal development (body, mind and spirit and contribute to creativity, personal discovery and an appreciation of the inherent value provided by these pursuits). If these were to be the canons of education across the board, the changes we all aspire for would become reality.

Actually education today is barely the first pillar: at best literacy and numeracy!

If I could be a change maker I would revisit the education system and makes changes in sync with the  realities on the ground ands the first thing I would do is ensure that all the four pillars mentioned above find their place all along. Keeping in mind the 12 million that enter the workforce every year it is crucial to impart skills that meet the market demands and these can be imparted as early as class VI or VII.

Not every child is destined to be a doctor or a nuclear scientist. Academically inclined children would pursue academics. For those who are less inclined, it would be judicious to try and assess their preferences and guide them in the right direction by providing them skill training and apprenticeships  while they are still in school. To this one would add the others pillars of learning to live together and learning to be.

If we are indeed standing on the diving board and waiting to jump, then we must have the courage and guts to make radical and not cosmetic changes to the existing education system, the courage to dare to jump in the void without a parachute and see whether we have the wings needed to fly.

Four years ago on this very day Manu left us for a better world. On a cold winter afternoon he tip toed out of our lives without a sound. One minute he was there and the next he was gone. I have written umpteen blogs about him and me, and each time I revisit our bond, it is with new eyes and new meaning. It is a little like reading the Little Prince again and again and finding exactly what you are looking for. Manu and I were an odd couple to say the least: he a mentally and physically challenged young beggar roaming the streets and I a middle aged woman having lost my way. While he had spend his entire life in the confines of a tiny slum cluster, I had wandered across the world all my life. Like the fox in St Exupery’s tale, he seemed to have been waiting at one place for me to come so that he could show me the way and help me dig in my roots. When that blessed moment dawned in the summer of 2000 and our two somewhat lonely and lost souls met, our lives changed forever.

We had both come home.

There are many lessons Manu taught me, but I guess the biggest one was that no life, however miserable, wretched or seemingly hopeless, is meaningless. Every life has a purpose.  I sometimes wonder what my life would have been without Manu. Futile and empty I guess.

When we first met, Manu was difficult to approach and would hobble away as fast as his legs could take him, letting out heart wrenching cries or mumbling abuses. I guess his encounters with humans had always been offencive and irksome if not violent. From his abusive family to the insensitive community, everyone had riled and assaulted him with words and blows. Love had no place in his desolate existence, and yet love is what he taught me. Love and forgiveness as Manu had no mean bone in his body, and forgave every one who hurt him.

Our ‘affair’ could have been a short one had things turned out as I had first envisaged. Seeing his plight I had thought that finding him a home in a well run institution would solve all issues. The only hitch would have been finding the required funds but that did not see an impossible task. But that was not God’s plan and of course my valiant attempts came to nought rapidly. With Manu it was till death do us part.

To give Manu back his dignity was not an easy task. It meant, first and foremost, to get him accepted by the very people who had shunned him and even treated him abysmally. I was shocked to hear that even the ‘kind’ souls who did consent feeding him, had a separate plate and cup for him, like you would for a leper in the dark ages. Some found amusement in hitting him with their cars or motorbikes and laughing when they saw him shuffle away in pain. The stories were endless and heart breaking. And yet his spirit held on, in spite of everything. He kept wandering the same stretch in extreme heat, biting cold and pouring rain. He never left that street, no matter the humiliation and sneers. He knew he held the dreams and aspirations of thousands of children in custody and had to hand them when the time was right.

It would take a decade for him to know it was time to leave. During that time he rekindled the dying spirit of a lost woman looking for an anchor to moor her drifting ship. He had to set it back on course. To give back Manu what I thought was his usurped dignity, I had to gain the trust of the very community who had shunned him. And to do that Project Why had to be created. The rest is history.

I realise today as I write these words, how wrong I was in thinking that Manu had been stripped of his dignity and that I was the ‘saviour’. Far from that. His dignity remained intact as did is undying spirit. It is I who needed to be saved and save me he did.

I owe a huge debt to Manu and there is only one way I can do that. I must ensure that Project Why lives on and weathers  every storm that comes its way. That is the only way to honour the memory of a saintly and pure soul named Manu.

The Skype call came spot on at 6 am. The husband picked it up as usual and the little chap came on the screen. But this morning there was no usual banter with the grandpa. What I hears was : I need to talk business with Nani! So Nani promptly placed her face in front of the camera wondering what business had to be discussed. I was sure that it would be something related to his birthday, perhaps an extra toy or book in the parcel ready to leave as he celebrates his sixth on the 21st. Well I got it partly right as it was about his birthday, but totally wrong after that. What he said next totally floored me: Nani, I am not getting any toys for my birthday this year, and am sending all the money to Project Why children. Wow! Was I zapped. It transpired that this year all his friends’ parents were told not to buy him any toys but to make a donation to project why.

I cannot begin to describe all the emotions that filled me in that short instant. I was overwhelmed with love, gratitude, pride and above all respect and admiration for my daughter and son-in-law who have been able to teach my lovely grandson the art of seeing with your heart.

Agastya knows project why well. When he was just 8 months or so, we had a play group that use to come and play with him at home every day. It was a small bunch of our creche children with one teacher. A few months later he was ‘enrolled’ in the project why creche and attended it each and every time he was in Delhi. His first pals were project why kids. And today it is with them that he wants to share his birthday, even though he is 12415 kilometres away. True he will have a party with a birthday cake and birthday games, but there will be no presents but the joy of sharing this day with children who have less than him is priceless. I saw that in his little face this morning. Needless to say the parcel grandma sends will have a few more toys then initially planned.

More than the little fellow, it his parents who need to be applauded. We all wonder why today’s youth is not compassionate and sensitive, particularly in India. The answer is simple. They are/were never taught to be so. And yet that is the biggest lesson you can give your child. But the only way to give it walk the talk.

Blissfully there are some rare parents who do so. We have a little girl who is 13 now, who has been celebrating her birthday every year with our special section children. This of course is because her mom decided to do so when she was 1, and has never stopped. Every year in February, the special section is taken to Dilli Haat and fed a scrumptious lunch of their choice before cutting a nice creamy cake. Games are organised amidst laughter and fun and each child gets a lovely return gift. I wish more parents did the same. It is not the fact of donating something as some do, but of spending time together that makes all the difference. The children my grandson is sending ‘gifts’ to, are children he has played and bonded with.

Today I am a proud mom and grand mom.