Project Why’s incredible 3 musketeers are back to school. This is what happens to you when you perform impeccably and have learnt whatever the old biddy could teach you. Over the past 14 years now I have tried to the best of my abilities to share and teach all the tricks of the trade to these incredible trio. The problem is that I failed miserably on one front: fund raising. In my defines I will say that it was because the fund raising model I adopted was entirely based on skills that are impossible to share: personality and writing. I know the model was flawed but it was the only one that worked for me and gave good dividends. The one epiphany I thought I had conjured and that would work for everyone could not see the light of day. I am talking of Planet Why: a green guest house coupled with a vibrant children centre, the proceeds of which would have run the project. We bought the land, got the architectural designs and feasibility study but were unable to raise the funds to build. Along the way we tried many sustainability options that failed. I think that maybe they failed because I did not have the skills needed to push them through. Now with time not on my side, I must pass the baton and thus Rani and Dharmendra are attending a one week fund raising workshop and I hope it will give them the ideas we so need and that they are able to fulfil better than me.

Shamika is back to school today. This is much more the closing of a personal journey that began when I accepted that my daughter leave school and train as a special educator. Over the past 15 years or so she has been working with special children and interned in organisations in France but she could not get admission in any course as she did not have a school leaving certificate: experience is not counted in India. Last month though the Gods finally smiled at me and she got admission in a course on mental health opened to people with a Masters degree! I know she will shine.

I am one proud woman!

Ever since an NGO mutated into a political part, the acronym NGO, which had always make people look at you with suspicion and distrust, has come under the scanner of one and all. A recent Intelligence Bureau Report accused foreign funded NGOs of stalling development and now the 2014 Finance Bill has given sweeping powers to the Income Tax authorities to withdraw tax benefits of NGOs and even cancel their registration: in another word- kill them.

A slew of reasons that could lead to cancellation have been stipulated but on a somewhat vague manner open to all kind of interpretation and thus misuse. One the stipulations is if:  its “income does not enure for the benefit of general public”. Not being familiar with legal jargon I had to look up ‘enure’ and the definition is: to be applied (to the use or benefit of a person).  So what it means is that the income of an NGO should be applied for the benefit of the general public.

Now benefit of the general public can mean just about anything and can be easily misused to get back at someone. Or simply can be used by an official to cancel your registration should you have, let us say, crossed swords with her/him. The other stipulation that is dangerously open ended is: its funds are invested in prohibited modes. Without proper definition of what is prohibited modes, once again you have a Damocles sword hanging on your head, prohibited modes could mean just anything.

Ours is a tiny organisation but comes within the present purview as we get most of our funding from donors outside India. That these donors are simple individuals and can donate as little as $10, will not cut ice with authorities that have a huge grudge against NGOs. And how can I explain that in spite of my best efforts I have been unable to create an indigenous donor base though my first instinct was to launch a rupee-a-day campaign. This failed miserably. I do not know why but maybe it is time to dust the files of the mind and look at this option once again.

How do I explain to tax authorities that I do not have the skills that allow me access to the rich and famous; that I do not have a celebrity who would lend her/his smile to our cause; that I am not a will never be a page 3 gal!

How do I explain to tax authorities that I set up this project because I felt that I owed a debt for all the privileges I have enjoyed and for no other motive. I am just paying back!

How do I explain to the tax authorities that I am ashamed and guilt-ridden each time I see, hear or come to know of the innumerable aberrations that exist in our land after 66 years of Independence – be it children dying of malnutrition while the rich gorge themselves and their dustbins; a baby being raped;  a young girl raped by order of a kangaroo court; or children being abused -. Each time I hear of anything of the kind I feel I have let my mother and all those who fought for our freedom down. And that is why I try to do what I can to regain the lost trust before judgement day which is approaching faster than I can imagine

Now I will have to walk on egg shells wondering whether my every action does enure the for the benefit of the general public. Why should teaching slum children not be so, or helping women, or sponsoring a heart surgery?

We have no money to invest; we barely have enough to keep our heads out of water.  So investing in any mode, prohibited or not does not arise. Yet suddenly the feel good factor that had always been there seems to have been abducted. Uncertainty prevails are we have become at the mercy of people who have never experienced the joy of reaching out to another or the privilege of becoming the custodian of simple dreams.

Today’s Times of India is replete with all the subjects that concern me and that I think need answers, subjects I have often blogged about giving by two penny bit in the form of simple suggestions with of course no takers as they stem for common sense. From the lack of proper living conditions for the underprivileged who do not have basic amenities  to the UNESCO report that states that 1.4 million children between the age of 6 and 11 are out opt school. from the Crime Records Bureau report that highlights a 70% rise in the rape and abduction of minors to the new poverty line that states that were you to spend more than 47 rs a day in a city you are NOT POOR! And there is more: a new born baby girl was found in a garbage bin close to our women centre; a 77 year old raped his 12 year old domestic servant. This is India today! I have blogged about each and every subject mentioned above more times than I can count but it looks like we are stuck in the same place. Eerie!

These is one more item tucked away in one of the inside pages that caught my attention and made my blood run cold. The article entitled South Delhi Municipal Corporation to rope in private firms for better education revisits the nightmare of privatisation of Education, something that will ring the death knell of education for the poorest of the poor. This corporation proposed to take the help of private firms to provide basic infrastructure in the schools i.e.: toilets, drinking water etc. Once the infrastructure is in place they will then address the quality issue. First, we will upgrade the infrastructure and then stress on quality of education says the Chairman of the Education Committee of the said Corporation. And that is not all. This scheme will be implemented in 50 of if 588 schools, schools which have fewer kids. Hallelujah!

The questions that scream to he heard are numerous. How come the Corporation has not been able to provide infrastructure in spite of taxes and education cesses levied with alacrity and impunity? What happens to all that moolah? If equitable education is a Constitutional Right of every child born in India then why can’t the Government provide that equitable education to all children? What is so difficult about building toilets or providing clean drinking water? And most of all what is the pound of flesh the private firms will demand as there are no free lunches. And while you are deciding to take help for private companies and negotiating your terms, and while the said infrastructure is being set up children are growing by the minute and cannot wait for the time when you decide to address the quality issue.

Just think of how many kids will miss the bus. When you have 1.4 million children out of school and the Lord only knows how many drop outs; when your no fail policy ensures that kids can sail through school without learning and again courtesy your abysmal 33% pass percentage even get a certificate, you cannot address the critical education issue in the laid-back manner that this article suggests. I agree that long term planning is needed but you also need quick fix options for those in school today.

If I had a say I would take some immediate measures that do not require exhaustive planning or inane Parliamentarian debates but just the ordinances so often used to cut corners when it suits the powers that are. The first thing to do is enhance the pass percentage to 50%, then abolish the no fail policy so that a child learns step by step as it should be; then make school co educational as that would sort a lot of gender issues. After that introduce skill training at class VIII level for those not academically inclined. That too is not rocket science. But this is only if you care for children and therein lies the question.

Th reason why all this makes me so mad is that I have for the past 15 years seen the so called underprivileged children and been a witness to their passion for learning and their will to learn. We do not have infrastructure to boast of; we do not have uber trained teachers; we do not have large spaces but we have an ardent desire to help as many kids as we can and they never fail to take our breath away. They are extraordinary children who study in impossible conditions and still bring impressive results. Stop letting them down.

The car drove away just a few minutes ago taking Popples back to boarding school after his summer break. The house feels almost eerie. A strange weighty silence has engulfed us all. It will take time to fill it with the right ‘noise’! Agastya will miss his pal and big bro and Maam’ji will miss her Popples. At this moment we both are feeling lost. Even the favourite cartoon Doraemon could not weave its magic. Agastya just entered my office looking lost. As for me I tried to get back to work but could not.

For the past month the house was filled with the laughter and babble of these two young souls who though a world apart are the best of buddies. True there have been some small skirmishes but when two boys 7 years apart are together, these are par to the course. I must however acknowledge Utpal’s patience in handling Agy who can be quite a handful. From the time Utpal came home after his summer study camp, our lives evolved around these two boys. They went to a summer workshop in the morning, then there was skating in the afternoon and football and cricket in the evening in the neighbourhood park. In between there was an unending stream of games, both indoor and outdoor – in spite of the sizzling temperatures – and the house was abuzz with activity and wonderful energies. Lunches and dinner had to be planned according to the likes and dislikes of these two and playdates organised on weekends. All this was interspersed with some outings to malls and amusement parks. The one party pooper was of course as always the dreaded homework. I would have though that most of it would be finished in the summer study camp but to my utmost horror it was not the case.

Holiday homework is my bete noire, and Popples knows that this is where he can push me to the brink of despair. But as his counsellor said, I am the only one with whom he can take this liberty and this is also part of any relationship, particularly one as quaint and undefinable as ours. So I am the one who has be strong and understanding. Not easy when you see the amount of homework in front of you and your heart tells you to let it go. Yet, you have to listen to reason. We struggled through the innumerable tasks and did our best. I cannot say we finished it all as with a truncated summer holiday, I felt that Popples needed a break. I also wanted him to bond with Agy and the family as there is still a long and arduous way ahead for one who never lived within a real family. I just hope he will adjust, till then I will have to smooth over the edges!

Popples can be difficult at times and he has reason to be. I know I spoil him. I also appreciate those around me calling me to order as I understand that they have the best intentions. It is not easy. More so in a relationship that is so unique. I just hope I can live up to the expectations of one and all.

Agastya is going to miss his buddy. We will try and make as many visits to the school as possible, but when in school, Utpal has his own activities and rigid time table and it is hard to find the few crevices  when we can spend some quality time with him.

Love is never easy and yet so precious.

One of the reasons I decided to write Dear Popples was because I felt the need to ‘make memories‘ for my darling Popples. I wanted him to know about his early years however difficult and dark they were, and also to know how many people loved him and stood by him. Now he is a bog boy and does not need Maam’ji to craft him memories. He is busy making his own. Memories and their importance as well as there fugacious nature came to my mind today as I stumbled upon a quote that stated: Once you’re dead, no one else will remember your memories. If you take a moment and think about these innocuous words, you will realise how many of our memories die with us. So maybe, on our bucket list we need to give some attention to memories that we feel need to be shared by our loved ones or by others if we so wish. Not everyone is a writer or has the time to sift through boxes and boxes of yellowed pictures and either scan and caption them or write something at the back for our kids to read when we are gone. This is more for people my age who were kids and young ones in times where digital photography did not exist.

Many months or maybe even longer ago I began to write Dear Popples II – the Project Why Story – because I felt that so much of its trials and tribulations – particularly in early times – were inside my head that were I not to put them on paper, they would die with me, and some precious and unique moments would be lost forever. So I did begin to write and must have written over 100 pages before my life stopped when I heard about my husband’s cancer. I never found the right moment to pick up the story again till today when I read this quote and remembered the half written story. Serendipity one could say. Anyway I hope to be able to pick up the threads and remove the cobwebs from my tired brain to resume from the point I left.

After that is done, maybe I will think of the personal memories I would want my children to have after I am gone and write another book. One more item on the bucket list: making memories. Making here does not mean inventing them, but simply giving them form and a vehicle that would transcend my demise.

Saturday is my version of Temple Run. I dutifully visit three temples. The first is the Bhairon Temple in front of the Kalkaji bus depot; the second is the Shani Temple in Govindpuri and the third is Mataji’s temple in Giri Nagar. Normally if we do not leave on time, we run late and into crowds. This morning as soon as we hit the main road from our colony road I knew something was amiss. A police picket greeted us at the end of our colony road and as we drove on the main road heading to the temple, we saw men in uniforms of all shades and hue and also armed in all sizes. The road looked eerie and it took me a few seconds to realise that the sidewalks had been cleared of all hawkers, beggars and were squeaky clean. You guessed right: a VIP was expected. He would be zipping through this part of the city to attend a meeting of sorts. Even the beggars who sleep under the over bridge and who normally are waking up at this time, some brushing their teeth, others cooking the daily meal were absent. It was after a long time that no smiling kid came to seek a few coins. They too had been hidden away. This part of the city was looking unreal.

The roads were empty and we zipped through and reached the Temple which was also unrecognisable from outside. No car, bikes, scooters, three wheelers, buses were parked on the road side as they normally are on a Saturday morning and the Temple was also less crowded. There were no flower and other offering vendors at the gate and no beggars with their recipient waiting for their morning hooch.   Bhairav is a God who is propitiated with whisky, beer, and any sort of alcohol and the ‘prashad’ is gathered in huge vats and is a heady cocktail of all sort of alcohols that is given to the beggars aligned outside. Today no beggar will get his morning shot. No flower lady will make earn her mornings share’s people tend to come to temples in the morning and hawkers too will have to forgo part of their daily earnings.

I wonder why the city authorities felt the need to clean and spruce up the route the PM would be taking to get to his destination. Was the city as it is everyday, buzzing with activity and day-to-day chores too dirty for the VIP to see. Would it not have been better for him to see how his people live, the ones who voted him in and reposed their faith in him. Maybe if he had a glimpse of the filth and the squalor, if that were possible in a zipping BMW, then he may have done something more permanent than this artificial sanitisation that happens too often. The one thing it does prove is that the very people who are supposed to ensure that civic amenities work are themselves aware of the fact that much remains to be done, then why not of it.

In yore times rulers use to visit their fiefdoms incognito, dressed in rags if need be, to feel the pulse of the ones they ruled. I guess the press and media have now become the eyes and ears of the rulers, though they sometimes present a warped view. One also wonders whether these rulers actually read and view things or a given a sanitised and cropped version of it.

I admire José Alberto “Pepe” Mujica Cordano the present President of Uruguay who lives on an austere farm and donates 90% of his salary to benefit poor people and small entrepreneurs, yes the very people who were so carefully hidden today! Pepe is known as the poorest President in the world.  A person worthy of our admiration. He has no palace, no motorcade and waits in queues just like his fellow countrymen. It is time our politicians learnt a few lessons.

I still feel galled at the number of police personal detailed for any VIP movement though I guess it is par to the course in our day and age, but to feel the need to dislodge people who earn their living even in disturbing ways like begging is simply unacceptable. It is part of what we are of have become courtesy the political choices we have made over the years. By ‘hiding’ children who beg, you do not solve the problem. And if it is something you have accepted as inevitable then why ‘hide’ them. On the other hand if it something you find disturbing then it is time everyone saw it and maybe did something to put an end to such abhorrent practises.

If each time a VIP has to cross the city to attend some function or the other, the whole city has to be ‘made’ momentarily presentable, then why not do to once for all in a humane and sensitive manner. Everyone on the sidewalks you so mercilessly expurgated is there for a economic purpose, be it the beggar who earns a living or the water cart man who quenches the thirst of passersby or the snack cart that makes waiting for the bus easier, or even the cobbler who saves you when your shoe gives up en route . They are all small entrepreneurs with a keen market sense as they meet the demands of the market. Regularise them but do not cast them away as they not only fulfil our needs but feed their families. They are no danger to the VIP that whizzes by and are very much a part of the electorate that voted him in.

Needless to say, everyone was back in place as soon as the caravan passed. Good for them. I hope they made up for the lost time.