New Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore, Kolkata, Chennai, Ahmedabad, Chandigarh, Pune
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Saturday, October 30, 2010
Vol. 4 No. 43
LOUNGE THE WEEKEND MAGAZINE
Stree Jagruti Samiti, a group that works with domestic workers who live in slums, helped Pushpa and her children understand that they too can fight for their rights.
`7,001–25,000 >Page 6
GIFTING, GIVING
`3,001–7,000 >Page 7
This year, besides helping you pick Diwali goodies in every budget, we met people and organizations who work with the urban poor. Go ahead—gift, give
`750–3,000 >Page 8
THE GOOD LIFE
GUEST COLUMN
SHOBA NARAYAN
THE GENEROSITY CHALLENGE
T
his one is for the NRIs and if any of you feels impelled to pass it along to, say, a Pandit, Khosla, Jain or Harilela, be my guest. This one’s for all you Silicon Valley and Wall Street titans; the Singapore and Hong Kong bankers; and the European jet-setters out of Antwerp and London. Remember those diaspora Diwali parties when a group of us would sit around, lamenting about how to give back to India? About how to find a transparent, accountable NGO that worked without massive overheads? >Page 4
INTERVIEW
DEVAL SANGHAVI
SHABANA AZMI
THE FUNDAMENTALS TRANSFORMATION, OF GIVING A SLOW PROCESS
T
he 2011 census is expected to confirm government estimates that more than 93 million people are living in slums across urban India, 128 million people are still without access to clean water, over 7.1 million children in India are excluded from education. The statistics are shocking. However, with government reporting that there are an estimated 3.3 million NGOs in India, it is also not surprising that you should ask whether your money or donation to any cause really makes a difference. >Page 4
N
ivara Hakk, the NGO I have been working with for the last 25 years, has resettled 40,000 slum dwellers who were living in the National Park (the Sanjay Gandhi national park at Borivali) free of cost in a tripartite agreement between the government of Maharashtra, a private builder, Sumer Corporation, and us. It was a very long and laborious process. Struggle is a very important part of housing rights. My colleagues... >Page 5
UNDER `750 >Page 9
First published in February 2007 to serve as an unbiased and clear-minded chronicler of the Indian Dream. LOUNGE EDITOR
PRIYA RAMANI DEPUTY EDITORS
SEEMA CHOWDHRY SANJUKTA SHARMA MINT EDITORIAL LEADERSHIP TEAM
R. SUKUMAR (EDITOR)
NIRANJAN RAJADHYAKSHA (MANAGING EDITOR)
ANIL PADMANABHAN TAMAL BANDYOPADHYAY NABEEL MOHIDEEN MANAS CHAKRAVARTY MONIKA HALAN VENKATESHA BABU SHUCHI BANSAL SIDIN VADUKUT (MANAGING EDITOR, LIVEMINT)
FOUNDING EDITOR RAJU NARISETTI ©2010 HT Media Ltd All Rights Reserved
HOME PAGE L3
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2010 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM
GIFTING, GIVING
â Episode: Bal Krishna in sterling silver, `2,790.
B Y S EEMA C HOWDHRY seema.c@livemint.com
········································ n late September, I attended a lunch at a friend’s place in Gurgaon and spent what seemed like the whole afternoon listening to multiple people moan about the Commonwealth Games and how these were responsible for driving away their maids, drivers, carpenters and car-wash boys. The slums and bastis in Gurgaon were being emptied by the truckloads daily as the government decided it would, for security reasons, “verify” the swathes of people who make our lives easier. A basti near my house was razed two years ago and I heard the same complaints then as well. But the point is, how often do we really think about the personal lives of our domestic staff? How do they survive in their makeshift houses, some of which are no more than pavement dwellings on roads? Do the police or the local authorities harass them on a regular basis? How do they cope with the lack of drainage facilities, or the absence of clean toilets? Can their children go to school and dream about making a life outside their cramped bastis or slums one day? It was questions such as these that bothered the Lounge team this Diwali and we decided to learn more about the urban poor. Read their stories and perhaps, like some of the people and organizations featured here, you too will be inclined to make their lives a little better. And since no Diwali issue is complete without goodies for everyone, we have put together a few gifting ideas to match every budget. Enjoy.
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á Play Clan: Gift voucher for `3,000, redeemable at Play Clan stores in Delhi or Mumbai.
ä Skullcandy: Skullcandy Aviator head sets, `8,000.
ã Titan: Titan Aristo chronograph from the Tycoon collection, `7,495.
ã Bruijn chocolates: Chocolate hamper worth `3,000. ã HP photo printer: Compact HP Deskjet 1050, `3,927.
ä Kama Ayurveda: Gift hamper, approx. `3,000.
á Paul Mitchell: Hair care by Paul Mitchell Professional Salon products, `3,900.
WinWin contest We are back with our Diwali WinWin contest. Take our quiz at www.livemint.com/diwaliquiz. Three correct answers and a lucky draw win would give you a shot at getting any of these great gifts. The contest closes on 8 November. Go ahead, win yourself a free gift this year.
CORRECTIONS & CLARIFICATIONS: In Keenan Tham’s recipe for Bombay Mary, 23 October, the ingredients include half a wedge of lime. The black and white photograph with “The ‘bijniss’ of being Leela”, 23 October, is from an unrelated photo series of personal histories of Bangalore residents.
á Swarovski: Crystalline tea light, `4,400.
ã Good Earth: Sarovar jewel glasses, a set of six, `3,800.
Issue editor
ON THE COVER: PHOTOGRAPHER: ANIRUDDHA CHOWDHURY/MINT
á Chenab Impex: Hamper containing imported food products, `3,000.
ä William Penn: A black lacquer fountain pen with 22carat gold trimmings, `3,750.
ã Rosenthal: Paperweight from the Andy Warhol Empire collection, `2,925.
ã Magppie: A set of four cups and saucers with two nut bowls, `3,950.
â TTK: Induction stove, approx. `3,500.
ä Zolijns: OJ wall clock by Nomon, `4,500.
ä Address Home: Samoa lamp with candle, `2,950.
â WittyGift: The Wellness Box, `999, and the Indulgence box, `1,999.
ä Cinnamon: Two mesh candle stands, `3,200.
L4 COLUMNS SATURDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2010 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM
THE DIWALI GENEROSITY CHALLENGE T
his one is for the NRIs and if any of you feels impelled to pass it along to, say, a Pandit, Khosla, Jain or Harilela, be my guest. This one’s for all you Silicon Valley and Wall Street titans; the Singapore and Hong Kong bankers; and the European jet-setters out of Antwerp and London. Remember those diaspora Diwali parties when a group of us would sit around, lamenting about how to give back to India? About how to find a transparent, accountable NGO that worked without massive overheads? When I moved back home five years ago, one of the goals I set myself was to find such an organization. It’s taken me this long but for all my do-gooder
SHOBA NARAYAN
THE GOOD LIFE
friends in the Indian diaspora: I have an answer for you. Read on. I am sitting at home, serving upma and lemon sherbet to a bird-like, smiling man. His name is Rameshbhai Kacholia and he is here to persuade me to visit Kolkata to see two of the NGOs that he is associated with. I have invited him over to check him out; do some due diligence. We have exchanged sporadic emails for the last two years and finally are meeting in person. Kacholia, 73, and his close associate, Nimesh Shah, co-founded Caring Friends, a Mumbai-based humanitarian organization that supports over 30 NGOs all over India. They expect to raise `10 crore this year from all their “Friends” across the globe. The money is channelled directly to each NGO depending on donor interest. “There is no legal entity called Caring Friends so we can’t and don’t
accept cheques in our names,” says Kacholia, who pays for his office, travel and related photocopying costs personally. “The goal is to operate with zero overheads so that every paisa reaches the NGO that it is intended for,” he says. Their American partner, the Arpan Foundation, is federally registered for tax deductions. If you donate $10,000 (around `4.45 lakh) earmarked for, say, Baba Amte’s Maharogi Sewa Samiti, the money is transferred to India in full. Arpan bears the bank transfer charges. Isn’t this what we were all looking for? Kacholia and Shah (who arrives the next day) are in Bangalore at the invitation of Trilochan Sastry, dean of IIM Bangalore and a long-time “Friend”. They are meeting students from IIM; the Wipro Foundation; the Infosys Foundation’s Sudha Murthy; and the Arghyam foundation. They want to introduce Arghyam to an NGO called Dilasa Sanstha, which does watershed development in Maharashtra’s Yavatmal district, the area with the greatest number of farmer suicides. Dilasa’s founder, Madhukar Dhas, is travelling by bus to Hyderabad and then flying to Bangalore to meet the Arghyam team. Dilasa needs `1.45 crore for a project. Caring Friends plans to raise `60 lakh and is approaching Arghyam for the rest. As we chat, Kacholia receives a phone call from a Friend, Srikanth Belwadi, a product manager at Google. The Google Inc. Charitable Giving Fund of Tides Foundations has just donated $150,000 to Snehalaya, one of the NGOs they work with. After leaving me, Kacholia and Shah plan to visit Unnati in Bangalore, an NGO which provides vocational training with guaranteed job placement for underprivileged youth. Caring Friends has pledged to help Unnati grow to 300 centres all over India in the coming years. Already, they are connecting Unnati to NGOs in Bharuch and Ahmedabad where there is a natural fit. “When we approach NGOs, we tell them that we are not merely a cheque-cutting agency,” says Kacholia. “We want to help them grow and often
they help each other. For instance, two Friends in Singapore wanted to give Vinayak Lohani of Parivaar in Kolkata `40 lakh. Vinayak told them that he only needed 20 and the other `20 lakh could be given to Mamoon Akhtar, who also works in Kolkata.” Shah heaps praise on Lohani and calls him the “reason that we are all here, doing what we do”. Usually, he says, NGOs are very proprietary about their donors and keep the names to themselves. Not Lohani. “In this last year, out of the `10 crore we raised, about `2-3 crore of (that) came from donors who were sent to us by Vinayak. He is very generous with sharing his donor contacts to other NGOs.” Lohani and Akhtar are their “two gems in Kolkata”, they say. Kacholia heard about Akhtar and his organization Samaritan Help Mission over 10 years ago. An article in The Asian Age praised Akhtar’s efforts to educate the underprivileged in the slums of Tikiapara, Howrah. Kacholia got his son to visit the area and thus, their association began. “Most of our founders don’t even take an honorarium from the organizations that they started and serve,” says Kacholia. “Mamoon worked as a librarian for a few hours every day to earn the `3,500 he needed for his living expenses. Vinayak Lohani is an IIT, IIM graduate whose father was in the IAS. His mother sends money for his living expenses but he banks it and gives it away during tsunami and other crises. Girish Kulkarni teaches at a university and gives 50%of his salary to Snehalaya.” I call Akhtar in Kolkata to verify this. Is it true, I ask, that he doesn’t take money from his organization. “Yes, didi,” says Akhtar, even though this is the first time we are speaking. I am oddly touched. “But did Ramesh uncle tell you that he has been paying me an honorarium of `6,000 per month for the last several years?” I also learn that Kacholia is paying `15,000 per annum for the education of Snehalaya founder Girish Kulkarni’s daughter. Every NGO that Caring Friends works with is resolutely secular; not bound by caste, creed or religion.
Moneywise: Caring Friends makes charity easy, doing due diligence on your behalf. Each has been “audited” by Caring Friends. Once an NGO comes to their attention, Kacholia and Shah follow it for a full year before bringing the NGO in to make a presentation to the larger group. “Either my family or Nimesh’s family donates money to these new NGOs, not ad hoc amounts like `50,000 or `60,000 but substantially—in the six figures,” says Kacholia. “So that in case the money is misused, it is only ours that is lost. Thankfully, none of the organizations we have worked with for the last 10 years have misappropriated even a single paisa.” “Why don’t you visit Kolkata and meet Mamoon in person, beti?” he asks. At some point during the last two years, I have gone from calling him Mr Kacholia to the Americanized Ramesh bhai to uncle. He prefers uncle; he is an old-fashioned Indian gent and he has taken to calling me beti. I may go to Kolkata but it is far easier to simply write a cheque, particularly if catalyst organizations such as Caring Friends can do your due diligence for you. All you need to do is tell them your passions. Is it environment, sanitation, education, vocational training or preserving traditional crafts? Whatever your interest, Caring Friends can cherry-pick
a cause. You donate your money and get some good karma in the process. The point here is not to endorse one agency, although I do endorse them. The point is that there are numerous such agencies that are doing excellent work in a transparent, accountable manner. Finding the right one is always a challenge, particularly if you live abroad. Caring Friends is one way to route your money to the right cause but there are several others. If you come across any, please bring it to my attention. And please do consider giving generously this holiday season. Happy Diwali! Caring Friends can be contacted at rameshbhai.kacholia@gmail.com or mail2nimesh@gmail.com Shoba Narayan may visit Kolkata for the first time in her life fairly soon. She has a Parivaar there that she wants to see. Write to her at thegoodlife@livemint.com (Disclosure: Shoba Narayan’s husband is a trustee at Arghyam Foundation.) www.livemint.com Read Shoba’s previous Lounge columns at www.livemint.com/shobanarayan
THE FUNDAMENTALS OF GIVING THINKSTOCK
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he 2011 census is expected to confirm government estimates that more than 93 million people are living in slums across urban India, 128 million people are still without access to clean water, over 7.1 million children in India are excluded from education. The statistics are shocking. However, with government reporting that there are an estimated 3.3 million NGOs in India, it is also not surprising that you should ask whether your money or donation to any cause really makes a difference.
DEVAL SANGHAVI GUEST COLUMNIST Navigating the social sector in India is extremely complicated—there are issues of lack of transparency, stories of corruption, and never-ending requests for donations. However, after asking questions and researching carefully you can be associated with many amazing organizations committed to significant change in India. And they need your help. Philanthropy has to be a balance between giving with your heart and giving with your head; new and old donors alike need to take certain steps before deciding who to give to and how to give. Thinking from the heart In urban areas alone we find the quality
of state education is abysmal, with only 50% of eight-year-olds able to read a simple paragraph. UN figures suggest more people have a mobile phone than access to a toilet, and the World Health Organization says India still has the highest number of maternal deaths in the world. So where do you start? When deciding who to give to you have to work out what really matters to you—is it empowering the next generation or working with the elderly? Is it the plight of street dogs or the fact that there is so much waste that stirs you? Do you have a family member who has suffered from a particular illness and has been helped by a pioneering hospital? Looking back over your life and seeing what has affected you is a very good place to start. If you realize that sport made you the person you are, then look at organizations that empower children through physical activity. If you respond better to creativity and art, maybe an organization that has a strong non-formal education programme is the right approach. Many of us have been profoundly affected by our education, yet only one in 100 girls in rural India graduates from school to tertiary education. Maybe your involvement with an educational project could help improve that ratio. Alternatively if you are appalled every time you pass by slums, look for a community-based organization which works to improve livelihoods for the communities in your city. When the head comes into play Start thinking about giving effectively and give to organizations that in turn use your money effectively. Research organizations and ask the following
Dilemma: Identifying an NGO worthy of support often proves to be tough. questions: Do they have a strong team? Are they transparent about their finances? Does the organization have communication material that really tells you what they do? Do they have a track record? Have they got a long-term plan for growth? “Administration costs” do need to be taken into account, but you don’t want to be funding an organization that spends more on its running costs that it does on its programme. However 80:20 (programme versus administration costs) is a good thumb rule. Another important part of giving with your head is understanding how an organization demonstrates that it is truly creating results. If you want to make a difference you want to support an organization that doesn’t just tell you it “educated” 300 children—but tells you
how, and what the impact of that education has been. Programmes cannot be measured by what effort has been put in, but by what the outcomes are. It is all very well to report that an extra 300 slum children attended a government school every day for a year, but the important outcome would be that 75% of them improved their grades from one year to the next. Of course, there are a great many programmes whose outcomes are hard to demonstrate—such as gender equality and community cohesion—but it is still important to support organizations that are committed to monitoring and evaluating. The good news is that in recent years the non-profit sector has become more aware of the need for transparency and reporting on impact. A number of
organizations have emerged that are working with NGOs to improve governance, transparency and effectiveness, also making it easier for you to give more strategically. Talking to organizations such as GiveIndia, Dasra, Credibility Alliance or GuideStar can help your decision-making process. Think carefully about the length of your commitment and also about what aspects of the NGO you want to support. Are you only interested in supporting a specific programme for one year or are you ready to look at long-term funding, which can be used holistically to grow the NGO and help it increase its impact? NGOs can plan and allocate resources so much more effectively if they know the length and size of commitments, so talk to your selected NGO and find out what they need. Remember too that your involvement does not need to be limited to finances. Many organizations need hands-on assistance—you can read to abandoned children, help run healthcare workshops, or mentor NGO leaders. There is a raft of possibilities where your skills can create a difference and being closely involved with an NGO often has an immeasurable positive effect on your life too. The social problems in India are vast and the government and private sector alone cannot solve them. As a nation our level of giving still lags behind much of the world, so this year on Diwali let’s not just think about how much we give but how we give more effectively. Deval Sanghavi is the CEO of Dasra, a foundation that works with philanthropists and social entrepreneurs and brings together knowledge, funding and people as a catalyst for social change. Write to lounge@livemint.com
INTERVIEW L5 SATURDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2010 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM
TRANSFORMATION, A SLOW PROCESS ABHIJIT BHATLEKAR/MINT
B Y S ONYA D UTTA C HOUDHURY ·································· he most well-known face associated with the cause of the urban poor, Shabana Azmi has for years worked for the rights of slum dwellers in our cities. The chairperson of Nivara Hakk, an NGO which works with slum dwellers, the pre-eminent actor and former Rajya Sabha MP delivers a scathing indictment of the government’s shortsighted policies, which deprive
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SHABANA AZMI Q&A millions of basic amenities. Currently on tour in the US for the play Broken Images, Azmi speaks to Lounge, on email, about the plight of the urban poor and the responsibility society shares for their well being. Edited excerpts: The provisional figures of the current census say that 62% of Mumbai lives in slums. With such a large part of the population of India’s financial capital in slums, who should address their problems? It should be the responsibility of the state to provide for all her citizens. These are the people who work in our factories, in banks, in schools, in the municipal corporation, in our homes, etc., and serve the city in different capacities. If all of them decided to go on strike the city would come to a grinding halt. But
the state’s standard response is to demolish the slums. Demolitions serve no purpose. They only create worse slums out of already existing slums. That’s why NGOs, citizen groups and activists are very important so (that) they can give a voice to the slum dwellers and force policymakers to find long-lasting solutions. Civic amenities, education, livelihood, consciousness of their rights—what is the most pressing concern for slum dwellers and why? All of the above. A slum is a slum not only because it is not made of brick and mortar, but because of the lack of civic amenities. The government refuses to provide water, electricity, sanitation, claiming that slums are illegal. Unless the government has a bank of land that it can give at subsidized rates to the economically weaker sections, the cycle of illegality will be perpetuated. Slum dwellers cannot afford to buy land at market rates. They end up paying more for water and for per unit of electricity than you and I do, except it goes to the slumlord who provides them temporary protection. It is a huge financial resource that should go to the government, but for short-sighted policies this does not happen. People come to the city in search of livelihood and try to stay close to their place of work because the public transport system is so poor. Education is important because it helps in finding jobs and demanding rights. We need to provide employment in rural India, where 70% of the population lives, so people do not have to migrate to cities in search of livelihood. Developing satellite townships, turning district headquarters into cities, developing rapid transport
Homecoming: Slum dwellers have been resettled in Sangharsh Nagar Colony, Powai. systems is the way forward. The shifting of so many slum dwellers in Delhi/Gurgaon ahead of the Commonwealth Games didn’t lead to many protests. Was such a large-scale temporary resettlement fair? The tragedy is that it will not be a temporary arrangement. They will find it almost impossible to get back because the poor do not matter; the root of the problem is not that slums are visible, the problem is that slums exist. When we talk of a beautiful city, is it just cosmetic beauty we are talking about? Should it not be about providing decent conditions of living for all the citizens of the city? We need to stop demolitions and upgrade
slums rather than push them into the back of beyond where there are no job opportunities. Are there any specific areas you are personally involved with? Nivara Hakk, the NGO I have been working with for the last 25 years, has resettled 40,000 slum dwellers who were living in the National Park (the Sanjay Gandhi national park at Borivali) free of cost in a tripartite agreement between the government of Maharashtra, a private builder, Sumer Corporation, and us. It was a very long and laborious process. Struggle is a very important part of housing rights. My colleagues Gurbir Singh, P.K. Das and (late) Anna Kurien have
faced bulldozers, brutal lathicharges leading to hospitalization, have spent nights in police custody for the Chandivli Project to give the slum dwellers their rights. But that seems to be the least of our woes. The biggest challenge is in forming a federation of sorts to ward off vested interests so that the communities can take charge of their lives—To ensure that this township (when completed there will be 80,000 people—it’s a virtual township) does not deteriorate into a slum once again; that the open spaces essential for living are not encroached upon by slumlords. We have a huge school that was built by the community giving up their balwadis. A politician is trying to take it over. We want it to be handed over to the municipal corporation that is willing to do so but political clout is depriving our children from getting decent education. The building has been lying empty for over two years. What a travesty for a government that claims it is serious about “education for all!” We are going to start a series of dharnas and protests. It is an ongoing struggle. Over the years that you have been involved with trying to address the problems of slum dwellers, do you see any difference in their attitude—are they more vocal or conscious of their rights? Yes, absolutely. Nivara Hakk’s principle is to empower the slum dwellers we work with. Whether we meet the chief minister or the municipal commissioner, they accompany us so that they learn that they have the right to have access to the highest authorities. But transformation is a very slow process and there is a long way to go. Write to lounge@livemint.com
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A MATTER OF
CHOICE
The perfect Diwali gift, for a close family member, a childhood friend or a friendly colleague, can be elusive. Like every year, we went shopping to help you choose. The other big festival challenge we haven’t given up on is charity. This year, we met people who belong to the ubiquitous ‘urban poor’, slum dwellers we encounter every day but don’t know how to help. Eighteen NGOs, working with people on the fringes of our cities, gave us their wishlists. Take your pick—gift, give
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`25,001 and above
á Celebrate with this crystal and sterling silver barware, `2 lakh onwards, at House of Raro, Stevens Street, Mumbai; and Sainik Farms, New Delhi.
ã The perfect gift for a spouse. Limitededition clutch for India in silk satin with a rhinestone clasp, `1.02 lakh, at Tod’s, The Galleria, Trident, Mumbai.
ã Go for glam bangles with contemporary silhouettes and meenakari work, Tanishq Glam Gold, `97,500 (left) and `65,000, at all Tanishq stores.
â Perfect for the writer in the family, this John Lennon fountain pen with a handcrafted, rhodiumplated, 18carat gold nib is ideal, `45,600, at all Montblanc stores.
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`7,00125,000 ä Keep pace with festivities with this butterfly clock by Diamantini & Domeniconi, `12,000, at Zolijns, Select Citywalk mall, Saket, New Delhi.
â Exchange your old handset with the Micromax ‘Modu’ touchscreen phone, `12,500, at all mobile phone stores or www.flipkart.com
â For all music lovers, Skullcandy and Roc Nation Aviator headsets, `8,000, at all electronic retail stores.
ã For the home office, all in chocolate Guccissima leather, `16,500 onwards, at Gucci, The Galleria, Trident, Mumbai; and DLF Emporio, Vasant Kunj, New Delhi.
Disclaimer: The gift item is sponsored by the brand or store. However, the product featured here is not necessarily the gift. Please check Page 3 for gifts you can win this Diwali.
á Light up with this 10 tealight, wroughtiron stand, `10,500, at Renovation Factory, Khan Market, New Delhi.
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`3,0017,000 ã Trinetra, a set of three tea lights, to add some sparkle to your Diwali, `5,450, at House of Ishatvam, Khan Market, New Delhi.
â Ward off the evil eye this festive season with the Nazar Battoo Kettle, `4,500, at www.artbyaarohi.com
ä A shimmering gift for your friends, a crystalline Swarovski tea light, `4,400, at all Swarovski stores.
ã Light up your house with this candle stand, `6,500, at House of Ishatvam, Khan Market, and New Friends Colony (West), New Delhi.
ã Print out Diwali memories. Gift an HP Deskjet 1050, a compact and affordable allinone printer, `3,927, at all computer hardware stores.
á This new concept in gifting brings exciting experiences in a gift box. Choose from WittyGift’s wellness, gourmet and adventure packages, `3,0007,000, at www.wittygift.com
á A Ganesh sculpture from Magppie for your spiritually inclined friends, colleagues or relatives, `4,000, at HomeStop outlets in New Delhi, Mumbai and Bangalore.
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`7503,000 â Celebrate with chocolates, the Herd (De kudde) by Bruijn, `1,200, at Ambience Mall, Vasant Kunj, New Delhi.
ã Please your mother with this luxurious spa box from Kama Ayurveda, `1,195, at Good Earth stores, New Delhi, Mum bai and Bangalore.
á Looking for a gift for your boss? Gift this Moët and Chan don chill box, `2,340, call 02240796500 to place an order.
â Brighten up Diwali night with this lantern, `2,950, at Renovation Factory, Khan Market, New Delhi. ä Gift a tote bag from Play Clan, `2,200, at Paul Smith, DLF Emporio, Vasant Kunj, New Delhi.
ä The best gift for a couple, a pair of tealight stands, `1,440, at Apartment 9, Greater Kailash1, NBlock Market, New Delhi.
á Your instant relaxation mantra, a body massager, `1,190, at Pylones @ taabir, Select Citywalk mall, Saket, New Delhi.
ä For friends who like tradi tional gifts, a fourlight sparkle diya, `1,560, at Episode, Select Citywalk mall, Saket, New Delhi.
ã Save on cooking time with TTK Microchef, a pressure cooker specifi cally designed for the microwave oven, `1,495, at all TTK Prestige outlets and leading departmental stores.
á Fairy lights (aubergine and clear), `250 each, in a clear glass vase, `1,850, at Good Earth, Select Citywalk mall, Saket, New Delhi; Raghuvanshi Mills, Lower Parel, Mumbai; and UB City mall, Bangalore.
ã No festival of lights is complete without glitter. A tealight holder with gold foil work, `990, at Address Home, Greater Kailash1, NBlock Market, New Delhi. á The perfect accessory for your beloved books. An elephant pair book stand, `1,200, at CMYK book store, Lodhi Road, New Delhi.
á Can’t gift wine? Opt for this winebottle candle, `2,250, at Renovation Factory, Khan Market, New Delhi.
ã Know someone who needs help to make decisions? Gift this metal dice, `2,900, at William Penn stores, Mumbai, New Delhi and Chennai.
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Under `750 ã A sureshot favourite with children, a Ravana fridge magnet by Chumbak, `135, at www.chumbak.in
ã Ideal for lighting up, a lotusshaped floater, `450, at House of Ishatvam, Khan Market, New Delhi.
ã A must for poker nights, playing cards by Chumbak, `135, at www.chumbak.in
ä Avoid sweets for children this year. Gift a jigsaw puzzle, `230, at all Fabindia stores.
ã A watermelon body bar, `165, and lemon kneez body bar, `195, at Nourish Body and Bath Products, DLF Promenade mall, Vasant Kunj, New Delhi.
ã Fun and cheeky books— Heroes, Gundas, Vamps & Good Girls and Kumari Loves Monsters, `295 each—for your best friends, at CMYK book store, Lodhi Road, New Delhi.
ã Get your friends this set of four flowerglass can dles in shot glasses, `690, at Address Home, Greater Kailash1, NBlock Market, New Delhi.
ã To add a stylish look to your Diwali outfit, carry this mogra bag, `695, at Cinnamon, Walton Road, Bangalore.
á Add a touch of tribal art to your celebration with this tiki torch, `595, at Elvy, Square One Mall, Saket, New Delhi.
â For wine lov ers, here’s a shark corkscrew, `550, at Pylones @ taabir, Select Citywalk mall, Saket, New Delhi.
á For your child, here’s a hanging with stuffed ani mals, `295, at Mother Earth stores, Bangalore and Mumbai.
á A set of four flowerglass candles, `350, at Good Earth stores, New Delhi, Mumbai and Bangalore. ä Do your bit for recycled products by gifting this chindi tokri, `500, at Crazy Daisy, Lodhi Road, New Delhi.
ã Jazz up your ceiling with this Chittor tealight holder, `630, at all Fabindia stores.
á Go green with this cheery yellow metal potholder, `300, with a creeper, `50, at Green Somethings, Select Citywalk mall, Saket, New Delhi.
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SATURDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2010 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM
DHARAVI PROJECT ACORN INDIA, MUMBAI http://dharaviproject.org
The Dharavi Project is a multimedia project that involves artists and socialimpact programmes to change the living conditions of over 100,000 ragpickers who segregate waste in and around the landfills of Mumbai. Its mission is to contribute to the welfare of ragpickers and give their profession a legitimate and sustainable voice in the recycling and wastemanagement value chain at Dharavi. It is an initiative of the ACORN Foundation (India)
RECYCLING AND RESPECT ABHIJIT BHATLEKAR/MINT
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST A ‘pukka’ classroom or a place that can be used as a segregation centre, anywhere around Mumbai, although proximity to Dharavi would be ideal. One or two tempos or small trucks that can pick up dry waste from other areas to bring to the segregation centre, and can double up for use in roadshows and
travelling exhibitions
that will educate people about
waste collection and management.
Empowered: Sheetal (second from left) with her mother Lakshmi (centre) and grandmother Hanumanthi.
B Y S UPRIYA N AIR supriya.n@livemint.com
······························ ew neighbourhoods in Mumbai have attracted global attention the way Dharavi has. But all the intense, often glamorized focus on the area can misrepresent it. It is justly described as a hub of enterprise, evidence that even the most disadvantaged of urban populations can thrive in spite of adversity. But celebrating that can-do spirit and the common humanity that visitors and tourists love to identify with, can sometimes obscure Dharavi’s realities. It can be one of the most hostile working environments in the city, and perhaps no population confronts its risks more directly than its waste collectors, commonly called ragpickers, the base of Dharavi’s growing recycling industry. “I used to pick and sort plastic all day, too,” says Lakshmi Kamble, 30. “My life was about that. I wanted to be a doctor when I was a child, but we couldn’t afford it. And my whole life, as I grew up in Dharavi, got married, became a mother, got divorced, and moved back here with my daughter—I had no identity of my own.” She was sorting plastic the day she first heard of ACORN India’s Dharavi Project. “I thought to myself, what good would this do me? What was the point of being part of such a project?” ACORN India, affiliated with ACORN International, is a registered charitable trust currently working in Mumbai, Delhi and Bangalore, focused, in their
F
own words, on four Rs: “Reduce, Recycle, Reuse and Respect”. The Dharavi Project, which began operations in August 2008, is a participative resource for the communities which form part of the area’s recycling industry. At its heart is a collective that aims to give ragpickers the tools and training to improve their working conditions. Handling toxic materials and the rotten byproducts of Mumbai’s industries poses significant health hazards to those who collect and sort them on punishing schedules, seven days a week. The project also aims to give the community the credit they deserve as essential workers in a city whose waste output keeps pace with its rate of growth. They are also faced with a near-total lack of respect and social security, bereft, as Lakshmi says, of any identity beyond that of the unclean and the hopeless. According to ACORN India, 40% of this unacknowledged workforce consists of women and children: a population that can face exceptional risks and exceptional pressures from their families. Take Lakshmi’s daughter Sheetal, for instance: She used to be teased by others at the local municipal school for having a mother who picked up garbage. Lakshmi says she has heard the same about her own mother—like her, a native of Dharavi and a plastic collector. “When I came to ACORN, I got my own bearings first,” she says. “I asked myself questions about the work I had been doing all my life. Is it good or bad? I told myself that as unclean or dirty as the job might be, I am doing a good
thing. I am taking a load off the BMC (Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation). Why should I feel ashamed of what I am doing? I explained this to my daughter: Tell those who tease her, so what if my mother does this? She doesn’t have to depend on anyone else to feed me. It put my daughter in the right frame of mind too.” Today, Sheetal, 11, spends her time outside school in the variety of activities the Dharavi Project organizes for the children of its members. Some of those children—not Sheetal—are ragpickers themselves, compelled by hunger and family pressure to earn money. Through music, sport, dance and art, the Dharavi Project aims to give the community’s children some much-needed recreational space, and allow them to think about alternatives to their future. It has just ended a successful music workshop, and is running a football programme for the children right now. Watching Sheetal run around on the grass with other girls, Lakshmi says: “The children don’t always come here knowing right from wrong. Some of them felt they only had to earn money, by good means or bad. Some of them committed crimes. But today I feel like these children are learning to create an identity for themselves. If they play games together, then maybe tomorrow they will have what it takes to form teams, to take part in competitions, to stand up to the world outside. They will learn that hard work will actually make a difference in their lives.” Lakshmi’s mother Hanumanthi too
attends the Dharavi Project’s programmes on the big days. “I’m too busy to go along to all their activities,” she says gruffly, but smiles as she recalls Sheetal’s participation in dramas, dance and singing. She is the head of the family as far as Lakshmi is concerned—out of their extended circle of kith and kin, she is the first of the three Kamble women who form the family that Lakshmi values. “My mother is my inspiration,” Lakshmi says. “The values I pass on to the others who come to ACORN India, especially the children, are the ones she gave me.” Lakshmi is one of the Dharavi Project’s committee members today, organizing the community in rights-based work, training the collectors with whom she works side by side during the day, and ensuring that the other children in the project get the support and guidance they require from their own parents. “We have a chance to give these children the things we have never had,” she explains. It is not easy being a member: She typically divides her day between work, taking care of Sheetal, housekeeping, and ACORN India’s office, where she started to volunteer in March 2009 out of a sense of purpose, and which has become a passion and unpaid vocation. “My mother was annoyed by what she considered a waste of time at first,” Lakshmi admits. “But now she has come around to the idea. She realizes that even if I earn less money because of the time I give to ACORN, people will know who she is one day: because of her daughter and the work she does.”
500 pieces of safety equipment for workers to use, including washable gloves, protective footwear such as canvas shoes, and bright Tshirts that will help easily identify workers collecting trash in landfills.
100 football kits for children in the sports programme: bags, Tshirts, shorts, football shoes, shin guards, sized for children in the age group of 1016. Footballs will be welcome too.
GIFTING
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GIFTING
LOUNGE GIVING
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2010 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM
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LOUNGE GIVING
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2010 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM
GV NATHAN/MINT
SPEED TRUST
CHENNAI Call 04425381334
The Slum People Education and Economic Development Trust works in the Sathyavani Muthu Nagar slum, near Chennai’s Central Station, providing a crèche, library facilities, evening tuitions, computer classes and financial support in the form of educational loans to slum children. As part of its livelihood programme, it trains women to drive autorickshaws, offers physically challenged women training to weave baskets and runs a tailoring workshop
PARASPARA BANGALORE www.paraspara.org
BUILDING BLOCKS
WHEELS OF CHANGE B Y A NUPAMA C HANDRASEKARAN anupama.c@livemint.com
····································· hree months ago, Mala Sureshkumar became one of the 30 women plying an autorickshaw on Chennai’s streets. It’s a feat that this 26-year-old petite mother of two could hardly have dreamt of undertaking five years ago when she was married off by her mother and consigned to the role of a homemaker. Today Sureshkumar is divorced not just from her husband, who left her for another woman, but also from her previous low-paying jobs as a doorknob saleswoman and a domestic help. The chief catalyst for this metamorphosis has been the Chennai-based Slum People Education and Economic Development (SPEED) Trust. Started a decade ago by a French citizen, Phillippe Malet, the group focuses on livelihood training for poor, destitute women. More importantly, it provides support systems of crèche and evening English-language tuitions for children of these women and other people in the slum for a token fee. At the Sathyavani Muthu Nagar slum, barely a kilometre from the bustling Central Station, the 6ft-tall, kurta-clad Malet stands out amidst the teeming squalor that stretches a kilometre in length and about a quarter-kilometre in breadth. Nearly 2,600 families, or 18,000 people, live in this clutter—one of the largest shanty towns in Chennai. Malet’s group tracks and follows around 120 of those families. The trust has been working with some families, such as those of Sureshkumar and Revathi Mani, for close to a decade. Malet, who started the SPEED Trust in 2000 after coming to India as an outreach volunteer, has a clear focus. He finds sponsors from France or Switzerland who provide `1,000-1,500 a month for destitute women and their families. The women are provided help on the condi-
T
ANJALI
KOLKATA www.anjalimentalhealth.org
The Anjali Mental Health and Human Rights Organization is committed to delivering mental health services and promoting the human rights of the mentally ill among marginalized communities and lowincome groups, as well as those languishing in mental hospitals. Anjali was launched by Ratnaboli Ray, a clinical psychologist and an Ashoka fellow, in 2001
tion that they send their children to school and enroll for one of SPEED’s selfemployment training programmes, such as bag making, basket-weaving or autorickshaw driving. When Sureshkumar approached them for help, SPEED Trust did some background research on her. The fact that her husband had abandoned her made her a priority recipient. Once her case was made to a sponsor, a bank account was opened in her name and the funds have been transferred directly to her account every month since then. “Most women we have trained are the ones who have previously suffered because they were forced into prostitution or are HIV patients or have been divorced or abandoned by their husbands,” says Malet. “A majority of them were getting about `300 a month before enrolling for our training. Now they can expect to earn the same amount in a day.” The training schedule for driving autos involves an initial three months on the basics of driving, after which the women get their learner licences. During this phase the Trust also teaches them how to interact with customers. It then buys them an auto; they have to pay off the money lent to them by SPEED in monthly instalments. On a mid-October afternoon, the otherwise noisy crèche on the ground floor of SPEED Trust’s office was enveloped in a silence broken only by the hum of the fan as around 30 children, mostly below the age of 10, took a siesta. Among them was five-year-old Naveena, Sureshkumar’s daughter, who had returned earlier in the afternoon from the English-medium Eve Matriculation School. Outside, her mother had just returned after ferrying a bunch of school students. This pick-up and drop-off routine, six days a week, earns Sureshkumar `2,000 a month. For the rest of the day, she mostly goes around the beach area to
The Paraspara Trust has been working since 1996 to eradicate child labour and ensure the rights of marginalized communities in Bangalore’s slums. It provides nonformal education and advises families on issues ranging from healthcare and hygiene to housing rights
B Y R AHUL J AYARAM rahul.j@livemint.com
ferry a few regular customers. Despite a late 10am start to her day, interrupted by the end-of-school pick-up and a 6pm shutdown to get her son from her sister’s place and her daughter from the crèche, she makes `200 a day—earning an average of `6,800 a month. Yet this amount leaves her with no savings as of now. Her earnings are bound to go up, Sureshkumar says, as she becomes more familiar with the roads and works for longer hours when her son starts school next year. With monthly contributions of `3,000 to the SPEED Trust, the vehicle will be Sureshkumar’s in a few years. For now, SPEED supports her by paying for her daughter’s tuition fee, a nominal `150 a year, and babysitting services for `5 a day, besides having bought the auto for `1.5 lakh for her. “From the beginning, the idea was to have a long-term programme through education for the second generation, with schooling and evening coaching classes, and at the same time offer financial support to their parents,” says Malet, who speaks a smattering of Tamil. Still, only 16 women gear up on the three-wheelers every day from this slum, largely because the group doesn’t have funding to buy more autorickshaws. There are 14 other women autorickshaw drivers in other parts of Chennai who took up this trade after watching women supported by the SPEED Trust. For those in the driver’s seat, it has broken stereotypes and given them a source of sizeable earnings. “When I first saw women auto drivers in the slum, I had the drive to do it too and finally, here I am,” says Sureshkumar, who no longer hesitates to take on passengers heading for unfamiliar destinations. “I am far more confident now and even overtake other vehicles if they try to block my way.”
···································· arvathi, 35, is a construction worker who lives in a hut in the Netaji Nagar slum, Mathikere, in Bangalore. She shares the hut with her four daughters (aged between 4 and 7), her husband and elder brother (both construction labourers). Her father and mother did the same work, as did her husband’s parents. But Parvathi, who is illiterate, is determined to break this chain. “I don’t want any of my children to become like me, my husband or brother. I want them to have an education,” she says assertively. Just then, her children troop into the room with their uncle Ramesh. “This girl,” he points to the eldest girl, Shantamma, “can read and write, while I can only sign my name.” The family of seven can now aspire to move from the world of stones and cement to words and books. Instrumental in this change is an organization that came to Netaji Nagar last year. The Paraspara Trust has been working in slums in Bangalore since 1996 to abolish child labour. Currently, it is working with 35,000 people in 35 slums in places such as Malleswaram, Mysore Road, Gangondanahalli, Sharif Nagar, Ayyappa Garden and Adugodi. Last year, Paraspara set up a unit near Parvathi’s hut. This set-up has two purposes. On the one hand, it
P
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST A laptop for the staff to use in the field.
supply of basic medicines for A regular
cough, cold, pain and stomach upsets. A lease for a guest house for travellers that will double as a training space for women from the slum to learn domestic housekeeping for a year before being placed at the homes of expatriates.
It’s a new life: Suresh kumar is one of the 30 women auto drivers in Chennai.
BEAUTIFUL MINDS
B Y S HAMIK B AG Ratnaboli Ray, founder of Anjali. Self-help groups (SHGs) are state······························································ supported entrepreneurship and vocational training schemes run by he sprawling slum lies in the shadow of sooty, old world facto- women’s cooperatives. Anjali tapped into the SHG network in ries—many of them shut for years now. This is Shama Parveen’s Kamarhati to spread the word about Jana Manas. home in Ward No. 4 of the Kamarhati municipality, in the northern Parveen was among the first to sign up for the initiative. “Parveen’s fringes of Kolkata. The newly elected Trinamool Congress councillor experience and her willingness to fight for her son and learn made her an informs us as we walk around in her constituency that almost 20% of her ideal candidate,” Ray adds. Her two-part, year-long training included electorate suffers from some sort of psychological distress: According to a coaching in general awareness and wider knowledge of mental health, study conducted by the Anjali Mental Health and Human Rights Organi- enhancing perception levels and listening ability, being more communization, a significant section suffers from high levels of stress and anxiety, cative and sensitive, and finally, counselling the distressed. depression, alcoholism and drug abuse; some of them “After I started incorporating Anjali’s training in my need medical intervention. own life, the change in perceptions towards Danish It seems odd that a politician wants to discuss the has been outstanding. My husband has been very mental health of her electorate. The issue has not cooperative and even the neighbours have accepted exactly been uppermost in their development him,” says Parveen. “Danish too has opened up. This agenda. “Yet I see that the mental state of the person is what a little understanding of an issue like mental is often directly related to the social surroundings,” health can do.” says the 42-year-old, who is also a teacher at a local Among all the training modules—which include primary school. encouraging the mentally distressed to share their Parveen would know. She has grappled with mental troubles, controlling anger and stress, understanding health issues for 13 years, since the birth of the first of adolescent behaviour, learning to be non-judgmental , fitted out and enhancing tolerance levels—it is her training in her two sons, Danish Akhtar, who is a slow learner. In school, among neighbours, at the playground, Akhtar as an ambulance, communication skills that has helped Praveen the was constantly discussed, ridiculed and ostracized, most. “I used to spend long hours trying to underpushing the uncommunicative little boy farther into a stand my son. He would try to open up, but fail. After shell. It didn’t help that Parveen’s husband, Shamimudmany attempts he would finally be able to clearly state for mental din Ansari, a worker in a local blade factory, too would what was on his mind. This was a good way for him to get irked by Akhtar’s withdrawn nature. “The communi- healthcare. give vent to his feelings,” she says. cation gap between father and son was such that Danish Parveen’s interaction with other people afflicted by would get beaten too. It was the most difficult phase of mental problems began when she was chosen as the and other my life,” remembers Parveen. coordinator of an Anjali-run kiosk for counselling and In 2007, Anjali was launching an initiative, Jana percussion instruments awareness campaigns at the Kamarhati municipality. Manas (Mind of the Collective), in three municipali“Not only has Parveen been able to improve the situaties around Kolkata—Kamarhati, Khardah and (such as ‘dholak’, ‘duggi’) tion in her family, but as councillor she has taken it Rajarhat-Gopalpur—to work in the sphere of mental upon herself to improve the lot of her voters,” says health, human rights and gender discrimination Ray. “For us, she is representative of empowerment.” and training among low-income groups. “We wanted to work with the self-help groups which do wonderful work. We sessions, conducted by Amrita Roy contributed to this story. thought why not present these women with a new idea—promoting positive mental health,” says percussionist Tanmoy Bose. Write to lounge@livemint.com
provides non-formal education to the children of slum dwellers; on the other, it educates the parents of the children on concerns such as basic healthcare, nutrition, hygiene, prevention of disease, housing rights, labour rights, the ills of child marriage and alcoholism. Every year Parvathi and her family would move to a different part of the city, or to north Karnataka, during certain seasons, as the wages there would be higher. The translocation disrupted their lives, with children forced to drop out of school to look after their younger siblings or to work at construction sites. With Paraspara’s school in Netaji Nagar ensuring education and more, they now settle for what work they can get, so that there is no break in their child’s education. Seven-year-old Shantamma’s joining school has ensured that her parents also come to school often. Not just to check her progress, but for parent-teacher association meetings. And while they are at school, the teachers and volunteers of Paraspara educate them on civic issues. Word has spread. Parvathi’s cousin Gouramma, a construction labourer, who lived in Raichur, north Karnataka, moved to Bangalore with her children and husband three years ago. They live in another part of the city but she too now plans to send her children to the school in Netaji Nagar. Bricks and cement may well give way to books and a schoolbag.
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST A donation of `25,000 for a child adoption centre.
`65,000 to build a shelter for 65 orphaned girls. Twofive volunteers
ANIRUDDHA CHOWDHURY/MINT
T INDRANIL BHOUMIK/MINT
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST
A Tata Sumo
for a mobile psychiatric unit Drum kits
All ears: Parveen’s (left) training has taught her to watch out for signs of psychological distress.
for Anjali’s music therapy
a
month to work with them.
Rewriting the future: Parvathi (extreme left) is determined to keep her daughters away from the family profession of construction labourers.
GIFTING
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GIFTING
LOUNGE GIVING
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2010 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM
L13
LOUNGE GIVING
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2010 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM
GV NATHAN/MINT
SPEED TRUST
CHENNAI Call 04425381334
The Slum People Education and Economic Development Trust works in the Sathyavani Muthu Nagar slum, near Chennai’s Central Station, providing a crèche, library facilities, evening tuitions, computer classes and financial support in the form of educational loans to slum children. As part of its livelihood programme, it trains women to drive autorickshaws, offers physically challenged women training to weave baskets and runs a tailoring workshop
PARASPARA BANGALORE www.paraspara.org
BUILDING BLOCKS
WHEELS OF CHANGE B Y A NUPAMA C HANDRASEKARAN anupama.c@livemint.com
····································· hree months ago, Mala Sureshkumar became one of the 30 women plying an autorickshaw on Chennai’s streets. It’s a feat that this 26-year-old petite mother of two could hardly have dreamt of undertaking five years ago when she was married off by her mother and consigned to the role of a homemaker. Today Sureshkumar is divorced not just from her husband, who left her for another woman, but also from her previous low-paying jobs as a doorknob saleswoman and a domestic help. The chief catalyst for this metamorphosis has been the Chennai-based Slum People Education and Economic Development (SPEED) Trust. Started a decade ago by a French citizen, Phillippe Malet, the group focuses on livelihood training for poor, destitute women. More importantly, it provides support systems of crèche and evening English-language tuitions for children of these women and other people in the slum for a token fee. At the Sathyavani Muthu Nagar slum, barely a kilometre from the bustling Central Station, the 6ft-tall, kurta-clad Malet stands out amidst the teeming squalor that stretches a kilometre in length and about a quarter-kilometre in breadth. Nearly 2,600 families, or 18,000 people, live in this clutter—one of the largest shanty towns in Chennai. Malet’s group tracks and follows around 120 of those families. The trust has been working with some families, such as those of Sureshkumar and Revathi Mani, for close to a decade. Malet, who started the SPEED Trust in 2000 after coming to India as an outreach volunteer, has a clear focus. He finds sponsors from France or Switzerland who provide `1,000-1,500 a month for destitute women and their families. The women are provided help on the condi-
T
ANJALI
KOLKATA www.anjalimentalhealth.org
The Anjali Mental Health and Human Rights Organization is committed to delivering mental health services and promoting the human rights of the mentally ill among marginalized communities and lowincome groups, as well as those languishing in mental hospitals. Anjali was launched by Ratnaboli Ray, a clinical psychologist and an Ashoka fellow, in 2001
tion that they send their children to school and enroll for one of SPEED’s selfemployment training programmes, such as bag making, basket-weaving or autorickshaw driving. When Sureshkumar approached them for help, SPEED Trust did some background research on her. The fact that her husband had abandoned her made her a priority recipient. Once her case was made to a sponsor, a bank account was opened in her name and the funds have been transferred directly to her account every month since then. “Most women we have trained are the ones who have previously suffered because they were forced into prostitution or are HIV patients or have been divorced or abandoned by their husbands,” says Malet. “A majority of them were getting about `300 a month before enrolling for our training. Now they can expect to earn the same amount in a day.” The training schedule for driving autos involves an initial three months on the basics of driving, after which the women get their learner licences. During this phase the Trust also teaches them how to interact with customers. It then buys them an auto; they have to pay off the money lent to them by SPEED in monthly instalments. On a mid-October afternoon, the otherwise noisy crèche on the ground floor of SPEED Trust’s office was enveloped in a silence broken only by the hum of the fan as around 30 children, mostly below the age of 10, took a siesta. Among them was five-year-old Naveena, Sureshkumar’s daughter, who had returned earlier in the afternoon from the English-medium Eve Matriculation School. Outside, her mother had just returned after ferrying a bunch of school students. This pick-up and drop-off routine, six days a week, earns Sureshkumar `2,000 a month. For the rest of the day, she mostly goes around the beach area to
The Paraspara Trust has been working since 1996 to eradicate child labour and ensure the rights of marginalized communities in Bangalore’s slums. It provides nonformal education and advises families on issues ranging from healthcare and hygiene to housing rights
B Y R AHUL J AYARAM rahul.j@livemint.com
ferry a few regular customers. Despite a late 10am start to her day, interrupted by the end-of-school pick-up and a 6pm shutdown to get her son from her sister’s place and her daughter from the crèche, she makes `200 a day—earning an average of `6,800 a month. Yet this amount leaves her with no savings as of now. Her earnings are bound to go up, Sureshkumar says, as she becomes more familiar with the roads and works for longer hours when her son starts school next year. With monthly contributions of `3,000 to the SPEED Trust, the vehicle will be Sureshkumar’s in a few years. For now, SPEED supports her by paying for her daughter’s tuition fee, a nominal `150 a year, and babysitting services for `5 a day, besides having bought the auto for `1.5 lakh for her. “From the beginning, the idea was to have a long-term programme through education for the second generation, with schooling and evening coaching classes, and at the same time offer financial support to their parents,” says Malet, who speaks a smattering of Tamil. Still, only 16 women gear up on the three-wheelers every day from this slum, largely because the group doesn’t have funding to buy more autorickshaws. There are 14 other women autorickshaw drivers in other parts of Chennai who took up this trade after watching women supported by the SPEED Trust. For those in the driver’s seat, it has broken stereotypes and given them a source of sizeable earnings. “When I first saw women auto drivers in the slum, I had the drive to do it too and finally, here I am,” says Sureshkumar, who no longer hesitates to take on passengers heading for unfamiliar destinations. “I am far more confident now and even overtake other vehicles if they try to block my way.”
···································· arvathi, 35, is a construction worker who lives in a hut in the Netaji Nagar slum, Mathikere, in Bangalore. She shares the hut with her four daughters (aged between 4 and 7), her husband and elder brother (both construction labourers). Her father and mother did the same work, as did her husband’s parents. But Parvathi, who is illiterate, is determined to break this chain. “I don’t want any of my children to become like me, my husband or brother. I want them to have an education,” she says assertively. Just then, her children troop into the room with their uncle Ramesh. “This girl,” he points to the eldest girl, Shantamma, “can read and write, while I can only sign my name.” The family of seven can now aspire to move from the world of stones and cement to words and books. Instrumental in this change is an organization that came to Netaji Nagar last year. The Paraspara Trust has been working in slums in Bangalore since 1996 to abolish child labour. Currently, it is working with 35,000 people in 35 slums in places such as Malleswaram, Mysore Road, Gangondanahalli, Sharif Nagar, Ayyappa Garden and Adugodi. Last year, Paraspara set up a unit near Parvathi’s hut. This set-up has two purposes. On the one hand, it
P
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST A laptop for the staff to use in the field.
supply of basic medicines for A regular
cough, cold, pain and stomach upsets. A lease for a guest house for travellers that will double as a training space for women from the slum to learn domestic housekeeping for a year before being placed at the homes of expatriates.
It’s a new life: Suresh kumar is one of the 30 women auto drivers in Chennai.
BEAUTIFUL MINDS
B Y S HAMIK B AG Ratnaboli Ray, founder of Anjali. Self-help groups (SHGs) are state······························································ supported entrepreneurship and vocational training schemes run by he sprawling slum lies in the shadow of sooty, old world facto- women’s cooperatives. Anjali tapped into the SHG network in ries—many of them shut for years now. This is Shama Parveen’s Kamarhati to spread the word about Jana Manas. home in Ward No. 4 of the Kamarhati municipality, in the northern Parveen was among the first to sign up for the initiative. “Parveen’s fringes of Kolkata. The newly elected Trinamool Congress councillor experience and her willingness to fight for her son and learn made her an informs us as we walk around in her constituency that almost 20% of her ideal candidate,” Ray adds. Her two-part, year-long training included electorate suffers from some sort of psychological distress: According to a coaching in general awareness and wider knowledge of mental health, study conducted by the Anjali Mental Health and Human Rights Organi- enhancing perception levels and listening ability, being more communization, a significant section suffers from high levels of stress and anxiety, cative and sensitive, and finally, counselling the distressed. depression, alcoholism and drug abuse; some of them “After I started incorporating Anjali’s training in my need medical intervention. own life, the change in perceptions towards Danish It seems odd that a politician wants to discuss the has been outstanding. My husband has been very mental health of her electorate. The issue has not cooperative and even the neighbours have accepted exactly been uppermost in their development him,” says Parveen. “Danish too has opened up. This agenda. “Yet I see that the mental state of the person is what a little understanding of an issue like mental is often directly related to the social surroundings,” health can do.” says the 42-year-old, who is also a teacher at a local Among all the training modules—which include primary school. encouraging the mentally distressed to share their Parveen would know. She has grappled with mental troubles, controlling anger and stress, understanding health issues for 13 years, since the birth of the first of adolescent behaviour, learning to be non-judgmental , fitted out and enhancing tolerance levels—it is her training in her two sons, Danish Akhtar, who is a slow learner. In school, among neighbours, at the playground, Akhtar as an ambulance, communication skills that has helped Praveen the was constantly discussed, ridiculed and ostracized, most. “I used to spend long hours trying to underpushing the uncommunicative little boy farther into a stand my son. He would try to open up, but fail. After shell. It didn’t help that Parveen’s husband, Shamimudmany attempts he would finally be able to clearly state for mental din Ansari, a worker in a local blade factory, too would what was on his mind. This was a good way for him to get irked by Akhtar’s withdrawn nature. “The communi- healthcare. give vent to his feelings,” she says. cation gap between father and son was such that Danish Parveen’s interaction with other people afflicted by would get beaten too. It was the most difficult phase of mental problems began when she was chosen as the and other my life,” remembers Parveen. coordinator of an Anjali-run kiosk for counselling and In 2007, Anjali was launching an initiative, Jana percussion instruments awareness campaigns at the Kamarhati municipality. Manas (Mind of the Collective), in three municipali“Not only has Parveen been able to improve the situaties around Kolkata—Kamarhati, Khardah and (such as ‘dholak’, ‘duggi’) tion in her family, but as councillor she has taken it Rajarhat-Gopalpur—to work in the sphere of mental upon herself to improve the lot of her voters,” says health, human rights and gender discrimination Ray. “For us, she is representative of empowerment.” and training among low-income groups. “We wanted to work with the self-help groups which do wonderful work. We sessions, conducted by Amrita Roy contributed to this story. thought why not present these women with a new idea—promoting positive mental health,” says percussionist Tanmoy Bose. Write to lounge@livemint.com
provides non-formal education to the children of slum dwellers; on the other, it educates the parents of the children on concerns such as basic healthcare, nutrition, hygiene, prevention of disease, housing rights, labour rights, the ills of child marriage and alcoholism. Every year Parvathi and her family would move to a different part of the city, or to north Karnataka, during certain seasons, as the wages there would be higher. The translocation disrupted their lives, with children forced to drop out of school to look after their younger siblings or to work at construction sites. With Paraspara’s school in Netaji Nagar ensuring education and more, they now settle for what work they can get, so that there is no break in their child’s education. Seven-year-old Shantamma’s joining school has ensured that her parents also come to school often. Not just to check her progress, but for parent-teacher association meetings. And while they are at school, the teachers and volunteers of Paraspara educate them on civic issues. Word has spread. Parvathi’s cousin Gouramma, a construction labourer, who lived in Raichur, north Karnataka, moved to Bangalore with her children and husband three years ago. They live in another part of the city but she too now plans to send her children to the school in Netaji Nagar. Bricks and cement may well give way to books and a schoolbag.
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST A donation of `25,000 for a child adoption centre.
`65,000 to build a shelter for 65 orphaned girls. Twofive volunteers
ANIRUDDHA CHOWDHURY/MINT
T INDRANIL BHOUMIK/MINT
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST
A Tata Sumo
for a mobile psychiatric unit Drum kits
All ears: Parveen’s (left) training has taught her to watch out for signs of psychological distress.
for Anjali’s music therapy
a
month to work with them.
Rewriting the future: Parvathi (extreme left) is determined to keep her daughters away from the family profession of construction labourers.
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DIYA FOUNDATION NEW DELHI www.diyafoundation.org
Diya Foundation runs a school in Nihal Vihar in west Delhi, provides monthly rations to children studying in the school and organizes free health camps in the area. After school hours, the Foundation plans to use its computer centre to impart education to adults in nearby areas
ON A GRAND MISSION MADHU KAPPARATH/MINT
B Y S EEMA C HOWDHRY seema.c@livemint.com
···························· araswati’s lips never stop moving. When she is not smiling or talking animatedly, the nearly 70-year-old keeps chanting a “guru mantra”. It’s impossible to ignore the soft hum of her voice or the large U-shaped tika on her forehead that gives her the look of a priestess of some sort. But this diminutive lady does not have the luxury of devoting her entire day to prayers, much as she would like to. At an age when most people would like to retire, Saraswati not only runs her household by working as a domestic help, but is also singlehandedly bringing up three grandchildren effectively abandoned by her eldest son. Bijoy, 13, Nikita, 10, and Anita, 8, have lived with their grandmother in the Nihal Vihar slum cluster in w est D elhi ev e r si n c e t heir mother died six years ago and their father left them to find work in another state. Since then they have looked upon thakuma (grandmother) as their father and mother. Once a month, Saraswati accompanies her two granddaughters to Diya Vidya Mandir, an English-medium school located in the heart of Nihal Vihar which is run by the Diya Founda-
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Moving ahead: ahead: (standing, from left) Anita, Saraswati and Nikita, at school. tion in association with the Care and Concern Foundation. She attends the parent-teacher meeting, listens to what the teacher has to tell her about Anita and Nikita’s progress and then waits patiently to collect the 5kg rice and 1kg dal ration that the foundation provides every month to families that send their children to this school. The foundation was set up in 2003. “It was the boy who used to clean our car and lived in Nihal Vihar who told us about the condition of his area. We visited the area and then rented out a small room from where we started our school with 20 children,” says Sanjeev Nayyar, honorary secretary, Diya Foundation. “We were sure that if we
would provide them with clothes and snacks, and also some amount of dry ration, that the children would come.” “Getting the rice and dal is a big help. But more than that, I am glad that the girls can come to a place that is safe and clean and that they are getting to study instead of loitering around in the basti or working with me as maids,” Saraswati says. Most people who live in Nihal Vihar either work as hired daily help in houses in Paschim Vihar and Janakpuri (a 40-minute walk from Nihal Vihar) or as rickshaw pullers, labourers in plastic factories, kabadiwallas or ragpickers. Though the cluster has a few privately run primary schools,
KARUNALAYA SOCIAL SERVICE CHENNAI www.karunalaya.in
SHARP IMAGE
B Y N IRANJANA R AMESH niranjana@livemint.com
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Undaunted: Solaiya mma outside her shop in Chennai. village?” She sold flowers as a teenager, then moved on to sell fruits and vegetables. “That used to fetch profits of `300-400 per day (in the 1980s). I used to buy from the Kotwal Chawdi market and sell vegetables going door to door,” she says. “Then the market was shifted to Koyambedu (Asia’s largest wholesale market for perishable items) and I came down with chikungunya eight years ago.” Restricted by the lasting joint and limb pains, she panicked, perhaps for the first time in her life. It was around this time that Karunalaya, an NGO supported by the Bonn-based Andheri-Hilfe Bonn trust and focusing on the urban
helps get children into the habit of attending school. We also try and give them a snack (usually biscuits) and uniforms and shoes,” says Nayyar. “We are also now able to instil some basic hygiene and cleanliness habits in them.” Saraswati says that at present the only bright spot in her otherwise hard life is the fact that two of her three grandchildren are studying in a school like this. She eagerly asks Anita to show her schoolbooks as we sit in her 7x5ft room. “See, she can write in English and she even makes drawings.” Saraswati’s is one of 10 such rooms on the first floor of a building. There is one toilet for the 70 people who live on this floor. Now Saraswati pays `1,000 as rent for her room and the rest of her income goes towards feeding the children. “After my son’s wife died, he went off to another state (Saraswati is not sure where) to find work and remarried. He now has two other children and a new wife. He did ask me to send the children to him once but I refused to hand them over to sauma (stepmother). Since then, he has never come back or sent any money. But that’s all right. I can take care of them and the schoolwallas (Diya Foundation) help with ration, with the girls’ education, and sometimes even organize health camps.” She now hopes that the school will be registered and that at least one of her granddaughters will be able to complete her matriculation. “Maybe then they will get a good job, marry a good boy and move out of this slum.”
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST Uniforms, pullovers for the 260 children enrolled in the school currently. Someone to sponsor a picnic or tour to any hill station for the children as they have never been on an outing.
Sponsor furniture and books for the school library.
Karunalaya, an NGO founded by Paul Sundersingh in Chennai 15 years ago, is supported by Bonnbased AndheriHilfe Bonn trust. The NGO gives loans to set up small businesses for pavement and slum dwellers, education for their children and expenditure to organize rallies and prepare petitions
PAVING THEIR WAY ···························· .P. Solaiyamma, 45, lives in a shack on Barracks Road in the densely clustered business district of north Chennai, an area known as the city’s backyard. The narrow lane, which lies behind a row of tall colonial barracks now converted into a railway workshop, connects the busy wholesale market on Mint Street to Broadway, the entry point to north Chennai. Blame it on one-way streets and congested roads, but Barracks Road happens to be the easiest route for sedans and SUVs to commute between these areas. Even as we stand there speaking, cars zip by. A mother picks her child up from the road, out of the way of the wheels. Around 75 families, living in a row of shacks, battle with traffic every day. Solaiyamma has lived here for around 30 years, ever since she got married, and has raised three daughters and two sons. All this after her husband left her in 1990 to get married to a wealthier village girl in their hometown in Villupuram district, south of Chennai. Precisely for this reason, she cannot go back home. “Why would I want to? This is my home. I am able to do business here and earn my livelihood. What will I do in a
there is no government school nearby (the nearest is a kilometre and a half away), which essentially means that children above 12 have little choice but to while away their time in the streets or work in the small garages and tea stalls. Saraswati fears that Bijoy will end up like these children. “I wish he would go back to school. He just wastes his time and doesn’t listen to anyone,” she says. Bijoy was not always like this. He was among the first few students who studied at Diya Vidya Mandir when it opened seven years ago in a small room in the colony. “We have tried many times to get Bijoy back to school, but have failed,” says Selevam, currently Diya Vidya Mandir’s administrator and a long-time worker with the Diya Foundation, who has lived and worked in the area for 15 years. “Thakuma (Saraswati) was among the first women in the slums to send her child to our school when we started. Bijoy studied with us until class III three years ago. We only had space for classrooms up to standard III at the time. After that, we got him admitted to a government school but he hardly attended that. Once he left studies, we could not get him back, not even to this new school building which we started in July 2010.” Selevam and Nayyar both believe that only children who start attending the school from an early age stay with them. “In most cases, neither parent is home to see if the child has come to school or not. Also, the dal-rice scheme
poor in Chennai, started working with the “pavement dwellers”, as they would be called officially, on Barracks Road. “They are called pavement dwellers irrespective of the fact that there is no pavement in any of our streets to begin with, and that all the families here have built compact mud houses in the tiny square of land that they’ve lived in for decades,” says Karunalaya director Paul Sundersingh. Going by the organization’s philosophy of “teaching them to fish rather than feeding them fish”, the NGO initiated the setting up of kuzhus or self-help groups among the women on Barracks Road. Solaiya-
mma, as one of the women looking for employment, quickly became part of one, and made a business plan to set up a petty shop in front of her house in 2002. “I borrowed `2,000 from the kuzhu and Karunalaya (both work independently) gave me `3,000. With a capital of `5,000, I was on my feet again,” Solaiyamma says, handling customers—all of them her neighbours—at the stall where she sells packets of chips, chocolates, pens, ground masala, toothbrushes, notebooks and pencils, all roughly at a profit of `2 a dozen. While Karunalaya’s contribution was a grant, she repaid the loan from her kuzhu within 20 weeks. Her children are married and work as labourers in factories in north Chennai. One of her daughters lives with her husband and children in Solaiyamma’s house on Barracks Road. “That’s why these grandchildren of mine would be the first in our family to complete schooling,” Solaiyamma says proudly. For Karunalaya has not only enrolled the children of pavement dwellers in schools, it also sends field workers to ensure that they go to school and give them tuitions in the evenings. Besides livelihood and education, Karunalaya also tries to teach families to fight for their rights. “The government should be obligated to provide for and protect pavement dwellers the most, instead of ousting them as encroachers,” Sundersingh says. The families got together to
form a Pavement Dwellers Rights Association (PDRA) for the area in 2007, with each of the 70 families on Barracks Road represented by a member. The organization began getting support from pavement and slum dwellers in other areas as well, and was registered as a social service society with 2,500 members last year. Solaiyamma was one of the earliest members of this non-hierarchical people’s organization. Most recently, PDRA has been protesting a planned eviction to make way for road widening. “Last month, an SUV sped down this road in the night and ran over some people sleeping on the roadside. Their houses are small and can’t accommodate all the members of the family, after all,” says E. Renuka, a PDRA member. “Instead of redirecting the automobiles, we have been issued eviction notices and resettlement options at the outskirts in south Chennai. Where would we work there, a place which has gleaming glass buildings but no busy markets and small traders?” Solaiyamma, in a bright red sari, and a large round bindi on her forehead, takes over, “See, our houses have been given proper addresses, following which we got ration cards and voter IDs. We have metered electricity—through persistent petitioning of our ward councillor—and we get water every morning at the street pump. Why should we be evicted?”
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST (RO) water treatment system for its shelter A reverse osmosis
for abandoned and street children.
New clothes for children, mats, blankets and footwear.
Good food, or provisions such as rice bags, cooking oil, etc., for Diwali festivities for the children at the shelter.
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STREE JAGRUTI SAMITI BANGALORE Call Geeta Menon at 08022734956
Stree Jagruti Samiti started as a movement to help workingclass women become aware of their rights. The NGO defines itself as a collective of domestic workers living in the slums of Bangalore that campaigns for fair wages, dignified treatment, paid vacation and medical benefits
TAKING THE MESSAGE HOME ANIRUDDHA CHOWDHURY/MINT
B Y P AVITRA J AYARAMAN pavitra.j@livemint.com
···························· ushpa, 32, greets her neighbours cheerfully as she leads us to her single-room dwelling in the Ragigudda tin slum built on a public playground in Bangalore’s upscale JP Nagar area. Ragigudda is one of the 10 slum clusters that Stree Jagruti Samiti (SJS) works in. In between cleaning chores at three houses and one office and then cooking at another, Pushpa makes it a point to visit the SJS office in the afternoons almost every day. She has been a member for seven years. SJS has recruited about four women as full-time activists so far. This NGO works with domestic workers who live in slums and outlines their rights at the workplace for them. Pushpa recalls that until 2004, before she signed up with the NGO, she was paid less than `300 a month for about an hour and a half of domestic work every day. “Now (over the past two years) we demand that we get paid at least `600 as minimum wage per hour per month. Sometimes we even get
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paid more,” she says. Meeting SJS founder Geeta Menon was Pushpa’s introduction to a world that recognized she too had rights. But fighting for better wages was just the beginning of several battles she has won since. “A few years ago, the ration shop in our locality never gave us the amount of rice we were entitled to. The men who manned the store behaved like they were doing us a favour by giving out grains,” says Pushpa. “I gathered all the information about what we were entitled to with the help of activists from the NGO, and went and picked up a fight with the store man. He was scared,” she giggles. She knows he was because the next day he asked Pushpa’s husband Sethu to tell her to back off. But that interaction only served to strengthen Pushpa’s resolve. With Menon’s help a complaint was lodged with the food and civil supplies commissioner, who then allowed Pushpa and a team to create a vigilance committee to monitor the functioning of the store and ensure that everybody was given their share at the prices set by the government.
Resolute: Resolute: Pushpa (cen tre) with her daughter Preethi, at a puja. “Though we are an organization that primarily deals with the rights of domestic workers, over time we figured that these women have peripheral issues, such as their children’s education, that need to be resolved,” says Menon. SJS sponsors part of the education of the children of its more than 500 members. “Depending on the need and financial status of the woman, we distribute what we get as donations for children’s educa-
tion,” adds Menon. SJS has also set up five computer centres where around 50 students are taught. The centres are run by 19-year-old Manikanthan V., who lives in the Sudarsahan Layout slum where the first centre was started. Manikanthan, who is physically challenged, saw the work SJS was doing in his area and requested Menon to source computers through her contacts so he could teach children and teenagers
to write software programs. “People think that boys and girls from slum areas are good for nothing. Through these centres I want to show the world that intellectual ideas can come from slums too,” says Manikanthan. Each monthly meeting of members is guided by the full-time NGO activists. The members discuss work, hygiene, financial and domestic issues. The focus is on finding solutions. “In cases where the problem is personal, as it is in domestic violence, we talk to both the woman and husband and try counselling them into being nonviolent,” says Menon. Menon and the SJS activists usually hold informal counselling sessions with the couples, keeping the police out of it. Pushpa and her husband were one such couple. Two years ago, Pushpa, after 12 years of marriage, found her husband was cheating on her. “He chose to continue the liaison; he had to leave. “I still miss him, but I won’t accept injustice,” she says. “My inner resolve is all I have. I think I have the power to stand up to these problems if I believe in fighting for rights.”
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST A lawyer who can represent members in legal cases and a doctor whom they can consult. A van or a car to use when the NGO receives SOS calls from across the city from women who need to be rescued from
situations of domestic violence or who need medical care urgently. A wheelchair for Manikanthan, who runs the computer centres.
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AIDE ET ACTION CHENNAI www.aeasouthasia.org
This French NGO has a fullfledged unit in India as part of its South Asia unit. It works with migrant workers in brick kilns in Chennai, school dropouts in slums and pavementdwelling children, running education centres at such sites
THE TIN SCHOOL PRIYANKA PARASHAR/MINT
BY N I R A N J A N A R A M E S H niranjana@livemint.com
···························· he construction site on the Central Institute of Plastics Engineering and Technology (Cipet) campus in Guindy Industrial Estate in Chennai is slushy. Yet this is perhaps the best place that Appar Swamy, 28, and Kala Vathy, 23, a migrant couple from Parvathypuram in Andhra Pradesh have worked in since they moved to Chennai two and a half years back. “We have so far worked only in Oragadam, plenty of construction going on there,” Appar Swamy tells me in broken Tamil. Bhagya Lakshmi, the couple’s 11-year-old daughter, has been quick to pick up the language and chats fluently with me. “I cook rice and kuzhambu (gravy) for my parents for lunch after they have left for work, before I start school,” she says. Just a year back, her routine was very different. “Apart from cooking, she would be helping her mother at the construction site too with light jobs like sieving sand or, worse still, she wouldn’t have anything to do and be cooped up at her shed,” says Raja Fernando, coordinator for the migrant workers project of Aide et Action, a French NGO, working with migrants from Orissa, Bihar, West Bengal and Andhra
Education plus: Revathy teaching in a makeshift school at a construction site.
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Pradesh on construction sites and brick kilns in Chennai. “It was at one such construction site in Oragadam that we met her and her parents,” Fernando says. “She was picking out stones from the fine sand that her mother would carry on her head to lay floors or grind in a concrete mixer.” Now, Bhagya Lakshmi
spends her mornings and afternoons learning English, her mother tongue Telugu, and some math and science at an “alternative education centre” set up by Aide et Action right next to the building in the making. The centre is really an asbestos shack that heats the room till the 20-odd children of assorted
ages seated on the floor are perspiring. Puffing and panting in the stifling room, cloaked in the heavy humid air, S. Revathy, their teacher, trudges on with a lesson on multiplication tables. Revathy used to work with a children’s home before she was trained by Aide et Action for this job. “I teach them most of the subjects in Telugu, but make
ENCOUNTERS IN THE OPEN ABHIJIT BHATLEKAR/MINT
The fringes of a city can be hostile and unsparing to the homosexual and MSM community. Two organizations help them live with dignity B Y S ANJUKTA S HARMA & K RISH R AGHAV ···························· xactly 15 years ago, Ashok Row Kavi’s The Humsafar Trust tasted its first success. The Brihanmumbai municipal corporation allotted two floors of a dilapidated municipal building to this new advocacy organization. Kavi began by inviting members of the city’s homosexual community for the Friday workshop— geared towards educating and counselling people on coming out, dealing with relationships, legal issues, police atrocities and issues of health and human rights. Soon, trained street counsellors were appointed. After a few years, the trust began working aggressively on health issues concerning the homosexual and transsexual (hijra) community living on the fringes of Mumbai. Mumbai’s poor, mostly immigrants from neighbouring states, Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, confront the worst of the city’s brutality. Slums are a symbol of the city’s malaise, juxtaposed with its fierce will to live. When the basics of livelihood are threatened, choices of sexuality are considered secondary. Often, such choices are taunted. Neighbours and police-
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Identity crisis: Singh says he still gets many questions about his sexuality. men turn hostile. Amit Singh, a 32-year-old social worker from Pandeypur, UP, faced such discrimination when he came to the city to make a living. We meet at the office of The Humsafar Trust in Vakola, Mumbai, where he works as a field outreach worker. The trust remains Mumbai’s oldest and still most active advocacy organization, working for the livelihood of people from the MSM (men who have sex with men) community, whom society perceives as sexually deviant. It thrives on private funding and donations. The walls of the office, painted in hot pink, are decrepit, the ceilings are in need of a repair job. But its two floors, which include a drop-in
centre for medical and legal consultation, a library and the administrative office, are hubs of activity. People from slums near and far await their turn to meet medical and legal consultants. Friday evenings are reserved for raucous dance parties. Salima (name changed on request), a 43-year-old hijra who was there with her partner for a medical test following an infection, says: “At Humsafar, I don’t get looks like I do at a government hospital. I feel natural.” Humsafar has played a crucial role in Singh’s transformation from a young, school-going boy in his village, a misfit, to a Mumbaikar, attuned to the gruelling ways of the city’s slum livelihood. “I was married to an underage girl when
I was 16. I left studies after class X because I wanted to run away from the village. I came to stay with some relatives in Borivali in Mumbai and worked in some textile shops. But they kept telling me something was wrong with me,” Singh recalls. His wife’s family threatened him and his own family pleaded with him to return. Around 2000, Singh visited Humsafar because a colleague told him this was a place where he could find the confidence to come out in the open. He met a counsellor. After two years, Singh decided to tell his family the truth, encouraged by Humsafar’s support. His family and friends did not take him seriously. “While all this was happening, I had to change house every now and then because
sure they learn English as well. But they are better in things like drawing and painting, carpentry, cooking and even trade and commerce!” she says. She encourages these activities because she’s not sure that disciplining them towards bookish learning alone would help them in the longer run. They’ll have to survive in the real world later, after all, she reasons. Aide et Action runs 12 such alternative education centres on construction sites, 10 of them in the Sriperumbudur industrial corridor and two in other parts of the city. It has trained, fulltime teachers. “Problem is, we are not able to progress beyond children of ages 13 or 14. If they have to take VIII or X standard Board exams, they need a migration certificate from their state government or they need to have a domicile certificate in this state,” Fernando says. They have neither; their affairs are pretty much run by a construction agent who brings them and their parents here and moves them at will, depending on where the next assignment comes up. “For the mistry (construction agent), our centres become an education component that he can market along with his usual package,” Fernando says. “So he encourages it. He’s quite benevolent, really.” The questions that neither Bhagya Lakshmi’s parents nor her teachers or the NGO want to answer is what they will do once she outgrows their alternative school.
nobody would accept me. Neighbours would call me a chakka, sometimes call the police, who would be abusive.” Finally, about five years ago, Singh found a room at a chawl cooperative society where he went equipped with legal help. “I told the landlord that I was legally entitled for a lease. The neighbours knew I had the help of a big organization. I also held some health camps and HIV-awareness workshops in the slum.” Singh found acceptance. Meanwhile, three years ago, after his young wife’s family members came to Mumbai, Singh made them meet a Humsafar counsellor. A divorce was agreed to in the village with the sarpanch’s consent. “Now I am a free man, living with basic rights which were not available to me,” says Singh. The story of Revathi is similar—a hijra who joined Sangama, a Bangalore-based organization founded in 1999 as a small documentation centre focusing on sexuality and human rights. It expanded into an organization with six offices, after a grant from the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. From an office assistant, she became one of Sangama’s directors. Penguin has published Revathi’s autobiography, The Truth about Me: A Hijra Life Story, this year. “I had a passport and driving licence made after much struggle identifying me as a female. I am 42 years old now,” says Revathi. Sangama runs a Crisis helpline—seven phone numbers that people in crisis can reach, and a team of more than 10 people who deal exclusively with them. “We get at least 20 calls a month, mostly dealing with police or public violence. Some are also from people who wish to come out to their parents, and are afraid of the
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST Dresses for 200 children. Chocolates and toys. Mats or any decorative colourful material, to make the centre look more childfriendly.
repercussions. Each case has different strategies. For families, we assemble a small group—maybe of lawyers, doctors, women’s rights activists—and we meet the family. We talk to them, try and make them understand. For police, we congregate in large numbers. We go to them in groups of 10-15.” Humsafar’s counselling cell, which includes advice and treatment of HIV-affected MSM slum dwellers, as well as support to those who want to come out with their family and friends, is growing. Akkai Padmashali, advocacy coordinator, Sangama, says: “In the early days, we faced lots of stories of violence—from families, from the public. The upper and middle classes had access to the mass media and the Internet, and the global queer community. But the working class (people who live in urban slums, for instance) had no access to private spaces and are forced to have sex in public parks and unhygienic public toilets—which makes them easy targets of police and goonda violence.” He echoes Nitin Karani, one of the oldest and active members of Humsafar Trust: “Over the years, most people who come to Humsafar for help are people who are from uneducated and economically poor sections of society. Discrimination against them is crucially related to their livelihood.” For donations and voluntary help, call Humsafar at 022-26673800 or log on to www.humsafar.org for details. For information on Sangama, log on to www. sangama.org. Its helpline numbers are 9945601651/52, 9945601653/ 54 and 9945231493. sanjukta.s@livemint.com
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ASHA
NEW DELHI www.ashaindia.org
Asha (‘hope’ in Hindi) is transforming the lives of 400,000 people in 50 slums across New Delhi. The NGO has a multisectoral approach that encompasses holistic communitybased healthcare, financial inclusion, education and environmental improvements
A SLUM’S METAMORPHOSIS
MADHU KAPPARATH/MINT
THE DIWALI
WISHLIST Stimulating board games and library books for children.
510 computers to expand Asha’s computer training facilities. Used computers in good working condition will do.
Blankets and quilts for winter.
Path to progress: (from left) Prabhakar, Ravinder, Thakur and Diwakar outside their home.
B Y A NINDITA G HOSE anindita.g@livemint.com
···························· t the Kanak Durga slum colony in RK Puram, New Delhi, the lanes are named after the women. It is in “Rajkumari ki gali” that we meet 48-yearold Rajkumari Thakur. Leaning against a Pulsar motorbike that her eldest son, Prabhakar, has just bought, she tells us about the genesis of this oddball nomenclature. Thakur is a lane volunteer for Asha, the NGO that has adopted her slum. Her duties involve checking on the 25-30 shanties in her lane to see if medicines are being administered properly; if the women are following up their contraception routine; and if the infants are getting their vaccinations in time. When she encounters a medical situation beyond her reach, she calls one of Asha’s community health volunteers—these are women from Kanak Durga who’re equipped with a medicine kit and paid an honorarium. Emancipated women aren’t the only anomalies here. There’s no foul odour from the open drains of Kanak Durga—a slum with 25,000 inhabitants. The narrow lanes that connect the houses are paved. And when we visit, at noon on a weekday, the children are walking back home from school. The slum has an evolved civic system and the women are at the helm of it all. Thakur recalls how wretched things were when she moved there as a newly-wed 30 years ago. Her husband, Lal Kishore, had left behind a family of landless farmers in Muzaffarpur in Bihar to work as a whitewasher in Delhi. He would head out every day looking for work, and for months she didn’t know how to go about getting a ration card. A hillock bordering the slum stood in as a communal toi-
A
let. The women bathed in their houses, by the door, so that the water seeped out into the drain that cut across the slum. Disease was rampant. When Kiran Martin, a paediatrician who was later awarded a Padma Shri for her work, set up Asha in 1988, women such as Thakur were suspicious of the NGO’s activities. Dr Martin had set out to treat victims of a cholera outbreak but realized that though healthcare could be her entry point, far more needed to be done. Dr Martin’s stratagem seems to have worked for Thakur. After she got two of her sons vaccinated at the Asha mobile clinic, she sat in on some sessions of the Mahila Mandal (women’s group) that Asha had instituted and decided she would join in it. A member since 1988, she was appointed treasurer two years ago. Mahila Mandal works as a pressure group for the community, meeting every week to draft proposals for civic change. When P. Chidambaram, then Union finance minister, visited the area two years ago, Thakur was among those who campaigned for financial a s s i s t a n c e . Chidambaram got to work immediately and had all the nationalized banks offer low-interest loans for the financially underprivileged. Thakur’s family has availed of two such loans: one for household repairs and one for the new motorbike she is leaning against. Thakur’s two elder
sons, Prabhakar (22) and Diwakar (20), are members of the Yuva Mandal (youth group) while her youngest, Ravinder (13), is the secretary of the Bal Mandal (children’s group), both of which run parallel to the Mahila Mandal. It is the Bal Mandal that ensured the civic authorities appointed someone for the upkeep of the open drains. Each family pays `30 a month for the service. In her house, Thakur tears open a packet of biscuits as she puts a kettle on the boil. She has a come long way since the days when she didn’t know how to get a ration card. Today, she helps other women get birth, death and caste certificates. If there’s a sanitation, electricity or water issue in her lane, she knows exactly which
municipality officer to call. Yeh humara haq banta hai (This is our right), is something she has learnt to say often in these interactions. Her sense of entitlement spills over to her children. Diwakar brings out a hardback Oxford Hindi-English dictionary he was awarded by the New Zealand high commissioner during a special dinner for a few of Asha’s Yuva Mandal members. He also recounts details of his meeting with US secretary of state Hillary Clinton during her visit last year. Both Prabhakar and Diwakar are set to do MBAs eventually. Prabhakar is pursuing a BA by correspondence and works at a health insurance company in the evenings. He earns more than his father, who still makes daily wages
of `150. Diwakar is in the final year of a BA programme in political science at Ram Lal Anand College. Next year, he plans to study for the common admission test (CAT). He is among the first batch of students from Kanak Durga to attend college. The Thakurs have decided to ensure that Ravinder becomes an engineer. As the conversation veers to him, Ravinder brings out a drawing book to show his latest work to the Asha social workers who’re with us: Krishna Vatsa, a programme coordinator, and Harikishan, who’s in charge of Asha’s field office at Kanak Durga. Among the Santa Claus and still life, he has a sketch of his father at work. It is a reality as distant for him as Santa Claus. While healthcare is still Asha’s
Volunteers with a paramedical background to train adult community health volunteers and conduct health education sessions for adolescents. They should be able to devote regular hours for at least twothree months. mainstay, the main focus is to empower the women, Vatsa says. The Thakur family is proof that Asha slums are different. This fact is also backed up by hard numbers: the under-5 mortality rate—a leading indicator of overall development—is 28.2 (out of 1,000) in Asha slums; the average among India’s poor is 112. But not everything has changed in 30 years. The Thakurs still live in a 25 sq. yard room. Their land allotment under the slum rehabilitation scheme was botched for reasons that are unclear. Thakur still bathes inside her house, by the door, so that the water can seep out. But now she knows she is entitled to a bathroom. That’s what the Mahila Mandal’s ongoing campaign is about.
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The Centre for Urban and Regional Excellence (CURE) works with the underprivileged in different areas that can help improve the quality of their lives and uses the grassroots experience it has gained to work with and shape the policies and procedures of government and municipal agencies
CURE
NEW DELHI www.cureindia.org
A STITCH IN TIME
PRIYANKA PARASHAR/MINT
B Y H IMANSHU B HAGAT himanshu.b@livemint.com
···························· ndira Camp in Dilshad Garden’s Jhilmil Industrial Area in Delhi, where Shahid Hasan lived with his wife Hasina and their children, lay in the way of a planned Metro line. So four years ago the family was relocated to a 12.5x10ft plot of land on the Savda Ghevra resettlement colony in the rural northwestern fringes of the city. Initially Hasan, who goes by the name “Masterji” and is a tailor by profession, found the situation impossible. “It was like wilderness when I first came here,” he says. “There was no drinking water. I put a boundary wall around my plot and immediately went back to Dilshad Garden.” He had to pay rent to live there. He returned after six months and built his one-room house. Home to some 8,000 families, Savda Ghevra covers a large tract of land that is surrounded by agricultural fields on all sides, and consists mainly of small one- and two-storeyed dwellings made of exposed bricks. There are also large community bathrooms at different points, three government school buildings and two Mother Dairy milk booths. Today Hasan lives and works in Savda Ghevra. He stopped commuting for work two years
I
At home: Hasan with Fatima (foreground) and his other children.
ago when the local population became large enough to support his tailoring work. In part, this has been made possible by the support he and his family have received from CURE, a Delhi-based NGO that works to provide livelihoods to the underprivileged. CURE has been active in Savda Ghevra since 2006. Two years ago, it helped organize some women into a group christened Navkiran Aaji-
HLRN
vika Mahila Udyog Samuh. Among them was Hasina, who also knew how to sew and stitch. The Navkiran group, with the aid of CURE field workers, approached shops in the markets of nearby Nangloi for orders of shopping bags. Their first order was for 1,000 bags from the Mota Bhai clothing store, recalls Hasina. Since then the orders for bags, mostly from sweet and confectionery shops, have seen a steady rise; so has
THE HOUSING AND LAND RIGHTS NETWORK NEW DELHI www.hicsarp.org
the number of women associated with Navkiran—it stands at 30 now. Hasan also works with Navkiran, helping them cut and stitch the fabric for shopping bags. While both husband and wife are happy with the help they have received from CURE, they say life was better in Dilshad Garden. Hasan says he used to earn `300-400 daily there, but now manages about `200. With seven children, it is
still a fight to make ends meet. Which is where another of CURE’s initiatives has come as a blessing—it arranged for a doctor to come to Savda Ghevra over four months and train women and girls as hospital attendants. Among the 22 trainees in the first batch was Hasan’s eldest daughter, Fatima, who has studied till class X. Sixteen-year-old Fatima enumerates some of the things she has learnt—basic hygiene and cleanliness, how to read a patient’s vital signs and how to administer drips and injections. She is now working as a trainee at Vimal Hospital in Nangloi and says she feels a sense of pride as she walks through the neighbourhood in her uniform of white salwar and kurta to catch the bus to the hospital. After her training, she is assured of a job with the hospital. Fatima already has another candidate in mind for the next batch of trainees—her younger sister Reshma. For Hasan and Hasina, income is still a worry—orders for shopping bags are not steady and often dry up. Now is a good time though, with enough orders ahead of Diwali which includes orders for 10,000 bags for the gift hampers CURE will sell at Diwali fairs in Delhi. But they are reconciled to life here—the big plus is metred 24-hour supply of electricity and, of course, legal ownership of their plot of land. Thanks in part to initiatives by CURE, they are looking ahead, one day at a time.
MADHU KAPPARATH/MINT
krish.r@livemint.com
···························· very evening, the residents of Delhi’s Shaheed Arjun Das Camp drape plastic sheets over the remains of their walls so they can sleep with a semblance of a roof over their heads. But come morning, they must remove them—lest the police spot these as evidence that they continue to stay at the demolished site. The bulldozers came to this slum cluster in East Kidwai Nagar on 13 January 2009 (without notice, the residents say), and demolished 300-350 jhuggis. The demolition was part of a drive to “beautify” Delhi in the run-up to the Commonwealth Games. But no form of rehabilitation or relocation has been forthcoming from the Delhi government to date, and the camp’s former residents live with no guarantee of shelter. At least 250,000 people across the city have lost their homes as a direct result of the Commonwealth Games, according to Delhi-based advocacy group Housing
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and Land Rights Network (HLRN). The group is undertaking a detailed field study of the indiscriminate evictions and demolitions of slum clusters, recording stories and chronicling human rights violations. “The situation is very stark in all the sites we’ve visited,” says senior researcher Shalini Mishra. “The 12-day Games have ruined the lives of tens of thousands of families.” The group’s preliminary findings indicate a blanket failure to provide due notice and reasons for demolition (Ishwar Kali, a resident of a slum cluster in Sewa Nagar, told Mishra: “If they had to break our homes, they could have at least told us”), as well as the use of force and a large police presence to minimize any dissent. “A woman in the camp gave birth to a baby girl on the morning of the demolition, and the shock of the bulldozers left her unconscious and helpless for nearly 4 hours,” Mishra says. In Gurgaon’s Saraswati Kunj, among the clusters demolished a month prior to the start of the Games, nearly 5,000 jhuggis and
WISHLIST Segregation equipment for composting of waste.
electric sewing machines. 15
A refrigerator for the Savda Ghevra cookiemaking enterprise.
HLRN is a part of the Habitat International Coalition (HIC). The movement is dedicated to the realization of the right to adequate housing, and seeks to ‘advocate for the recogni tion, defence and full implementation of everyone’s human right to a secure place to live in peace and dignity’
THE INVISIBLE DELHIITES B Y K RISH R AGHAV
THE DIWALI
Dispossessed: Makeshift jhuggis at the Shaheed Arjun Das Camp. one primary school have disappeared from a 2-3km long stretch. “The police came in about 30 jeeps and two buses, surrounding the camp. We had about 2 hours to rescue any belongings before the bulldozers arrived,” says resident Jaker Hosen. A paved road
leads to the cluster entrance, but disappears under a vast expanse of rubble. Clothes, school bags, mattresses lie amid construction material. “I lost my ration shop, all the goods in it. All in all, about `100,000,” says the elderly A. Muzam, who used to rent out
huts in the area to families. Police vans pass by every 6 hours to make sure jhuggis are not rebuilt. The few residents left carry their redundant tenant verification forms like tourists carry passports. The HLRN regards the UN’s “Basic Principles and Guidelines
on Development-based Evictions and Displacement” as the yardstick for due process in the event of an eviction. The principles provide for adequate notice, resettlement entitlements, and guarantees for basic services such as healthcare and education. Mishra calls it a “beautiful document”. “If we start rating these demolitions according to the UN convention, they will all score a resounding zero,” she says. “We have only three people in all, working under severe constraints. Collecting data has been difficult and slow,” Mishra says. Their immediate aims are modest. The government of Delhi’s department of urban development has a list of 44 JJ (jhuggi-jhonpdi) clusters scheduled for “relocation and rehabilitation” after the Games, but there has been no progress yet. “We hope we can prevent further indiscriminate demolition by submitting a list of recommendations and our report,” Mishra says. “A lot of the displaced are helpless—they don’t know who to contact when it’s the police who are causing them trouble. Hopefully, we’ll be able to form a committee of people—lawyers, doctors, activists, media persons—who can be contacted in times of need.”
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BY
MADHU KAPPARATH/MINT
Eyes on the stage: (left) Kumar oversees Salaam Baalak children rehearsing a dance piece; and aspirants line up for theatre auditions at the Armaan children’s home.
ART AS LIFELINE In its various forms, art can not only rehabilitate but also provide a livelihood to children from underprivileged backgrounds
B Y A NINDITA G HOSE anindita.g@livemint.com
···························· t’s one of those stories that make a case for poetic justice. The Salaam Baalak Trust—an organization founded by the proceeds of Mira Nair’s 1988 film on street children, Salaam Bombay—gives rise to a whole generation of photographers, musicians, dancers, thespians and puppeteers. The 2004 Academy Awardwinning documentary film, Born into Brothels, illustrated, in evocative footage, the saving power of art. The film documented British photojournalist Zana Briski teaching photography to a group of children living in Kolkata’s redlight district, Sonagachi. Their lives were transformed: Some of
I
the children’s work was published internationally, and auctioned by Sotheby’s. When we visit one of Salaam Baalak’s five shelters in Delhi—the Armaan children’s home in the Tis Hazari area—we’re caught by the frenetic energy in the air. The children are preparing for their annual day in the last week of November. Six-year-olds have lined up outside one room to audition. A cutting-edge contemporary dance piece is being rehearsed in another. And on the terrace, where we finally settle, a group of 30 children who’ve chosen dramatics are in the midst of improvisation exercises. The organization has had several “success” stories. There’s 22-year-old Vicky Roy, who came to Salaam Baalak as a ragpicker, and went on to exhibit his photographs not just at the India Habitat Centre, but also at exhibitions in London and New York. Shamsul, 28, is one of the most sought-after puppeteers in the country and Avinash Kumar, 27, is first assistant to choreographer Astad Deboo. Salaam Baalak emphasizes art
education, even letting the children sift through multiple forms before settling on one that works best. The trust encourages children who reach the age of 18 to sustain themselves. “Education without livelihood is not a viable option,” says Praveen Nair, founder and chairperson. Nair explains that since a lot of the children come to Trust homes when they’re as old as 12, it’s difficult to get them adjusted to a regimented routine, or even regular school hours. “It’s easier to reach out to them through theatre or
dance. It prepares them for classroom schooling as well,” says Nair. Salaam Baalak ideally wants all its children to study at least till class XII but many are unable to cope. “But take any art form, and these children will be better than their privileged peers,” says Nair. Art education serves a dual purpose here: It works to rehabilitate the children as well as open them up to a possible means of livelihood in which they can excel. Because of the Trust’s goodwill and networks, several institutions waive their fees or provide a dis-
SCRIPTING NEW STORIES OF GROWTH These nonprofit organizations are using art forms to achieve different ends in child development and empowerment
MUSIC
Music Basti, New Delhi www.musicbasti.org Music Basti is a music education and awareness project that began in 2008 with the support of the Inte grated Development Education Asso ciation (IDEA). The programme is geared for “at risk” children, which includes street children, runaways and orphans, and currently works with over 300 such children across three shelters in Delhi. The process is facilitated through a sustained pro gramme of workshops—150 have been conducted so far—imparting basic music education to children. What is unique about this initia tive is that it is entirely youthled,
headed by founder Faith Gonsalves, a 22yearold graduate from Lady Shri Ram College for Women, Delhi University. The team works with the support of young musicians from diverse musical backgrounds. There’s the sarangi exponent Suhail Khan and percussionist Suchet Malhotra from India who’ve volunteered their sup port. UKbased music producer Ian Wallman, and Dubber and Jez have also initiated a project. The goal is to create participation and inclusion, and promote selfconfidence in the children. Over the next year, Music Basti aims to have two more centres for children. Soon it hopes to launch an online album of children’s songs SIKANDAR M KUMAR
High note: A Music Basti workshop in progress.
recorded with the support of profes sional musicians. For a twoandahalfyearold pro gramme, it is too early to tell. For now, the folks of Music Basti are focused on empowerment and on building a multicity network to pro mote their message, in musical notes.
FILM
Dreaming Child Productions, Noida Look them up on Facebook An initiative by 25yearold activist Mahima Kaur, Dreaming Child Pro ductions is a space where children learn filmmaking, along with respon sibility and selfreliance. Kaur works with the children of the Harijan ‘basti’ in Noida. Two years ago, 12 children from the ‘basti’ wanted to make a film. It was an experiment for Kaur, who had been conducting theatre workshops in the slum. The children, all aged 11, were divided in four groups and trained for two months in four aspects of filmmaking: acting, direct ing, writing and cinematography. In the next two months, they managed to write, act in, direct and crew two short films, ‘Jhat Pat Ghich Pich’ and ‘Khel Khel Mein’. They also viewed cinema from around the world and learnt the tertiary aspects of film production such as costume design and storyboarding. Seeing the transformation in chil dren was startling for Kaur. “We
realized that by maximizing the responsibility given to these children for reaching a goal not only increased their understanding of themselves, but also of the subjects surrounding that goal,” says Kaur, adding that by the next year, her first batch of 15yearolds will be able to guide younger children on the filmmaking process. The chil dren’s films have been screened at several short film festivals, including Filmbooth and Shamiana.
COMICS
World Comics India (across South Asia) www.worldcomicsindia.com Cartoonist Sharad Sharma founded the comics initiative, World Comics India, in 2002. He conducts work shops at the grassroot level to equip people, who might be illiter ate, to have their say through com ics. The primary function is to address an individual’s freedom of expression, thus empowering them and enabling them to fight for their rights. This has served as one of the most popular communication tools for several organizations and peo ple’s movement across the world. While Sharma’s initiative targets all age groups, children above the age of 8 have been particularly receptive to the training and have gone on to train their peers as well in places
such as Mizoram and Assam. Around 500 comics workshops have been organized so far. In 2009 alone, World Comics India conducted around 100 workshops.
PHOTOGRAPHY
Blind with Camera, Mumbai www.blindwithcamera.org In 2004, Partho Bhowmick, an IT pro fessional with Pidilite in Mumbai, came across the work of the Paris based visually impaired photographer Evgen Bavcar. Fascinated, Bhowmick began researching links between blindness and the visual arts. In 2006, he began conducting workshops for visually impaired stu dents at the Victoria Memorial School for the Blind, teaching them how to use nonvisual sensors to make pho tographs. He has trained 120 students so far, almost all of them from under privileged backgrounds. Earlier this year, he even founded a virtual school to supplement his physical workshops: www.blindwithcameraschool.org. Patrons can support the initiative by buying limitededition prints (30 of each), making a donation in terms of money or camera equipment. Bhowmick believes that teaching photography to the visually impaired helps in terms of provid ing them with earning opportuni ties. It also facilitates their social inclusion by demystifying the polar
count at the very least. We meet 22-year-old Firoz Khan, who aspires to be a fashion photographer (like Atul Kasbekar, he insists). He’s been working hard towards his dream and has interned with two professional photographers (one of whom gave him a Canon DSLR 1000D in lieu of payment). Even though the Apex academy, a photography academy, has waived 30% of his course fee, the Trust invests generously in his ambition, paying `84,000 for his one-year diploma course in photography. Nair and her colleagues rope in established practitioners to mentor and guide the children and some of these lead to professional alliances. Shamsul learnt under the father of modern Indian puppetry, Dadi Pudumjee, and now performs with him. Likewise for Kumar, who was introduced to Deboo by Salaam Baalak’s founding trustee, Sanjoy Roy. Deboo is presently travelling with a production called Breaking Boundaries with 14 children from Salaam Baalak. Other organizations are working along the same lines. The Aga Khan Foundation has been, for the last two years, running theatre and craft workshops for the children of Delhi’s Nizamuddin Basti. They hope to identify core skill groups among the children and train possible conservationists from within the underprivileged communities that surround the Islamic monuments around which its work is centred. Twenty-three-year-old Mohammed Shameem came to Salaam Baalak 10 years ago. He first studied theatre and then sculpture, before deciding that puppet theatre was his calling. Today, he has his own production house, Kuch Kuch Puppet Theatre. He’s just back from performing in Linz, Austria; he goes to Zurich for a show in December. He took to puppetry because he was weary of the pity his street child status elicited from people. “But when people come up to me after my shows now and ask me about my background, they refuse to believe that I’m an ‘NGO child’,” he says. “Now I introduce myself as a puppeteer,” says Shameem. ity between blindness and visual expression, helping to sensitize people and correct the public per ception of visual impairment. Blind with Camera has been hosting regular exhibitions to showcase and sell students’ work. Thirty per cent of the proceeds go to the students. Next month, Bhowmick is travelling to Liverpool, England, with two student photog raphers to showcase their work. Kodak supports the initiative by providing all the photographic equipment.
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FIELD OF DREAMS The slums and informal settlements of India’s cities are often hubs of economic activity. In these highrisk, stressful environ ments, the idea of sports and recreation for a vulnerable popula tion of children from marginalized areas can seem a little whimsi cal. Why would anyone get them to play in the time they could be taking more classes or getting vocational training? The most direct answer is: Children have the right to play. Perhaps no other structured sport admits how elemental this
idea is than football. Unlike many racket sports and cricket, it does not require a plethora of equipment. It is a simple game: a ball, a bit of open space and a general consensus on where the goal should be. Sure, football is no substitute for formal education, as all sportsfordevelopment organizations emphasize, but it can be a chance to experience a level playing field and learn crucial values: teamwork, foresight, tactical thinking, respect and fair play.
A WORTHY GOAL
A LEVEL PLAYING FIELD
Tapan Ray, secretary, 033-24646960
Arup Das, 9810521312
Avenue Sammilani Club, Kolkata
O
n the last day of practice before the Puja become star footballers at the Kolkata Maidan. break, there is an element of revelry in the air. Some have even represented India. The football action, nevertheless, continues to be “It is true that we have not been able to provide intense. Shanti Mullick, an Arjuna-awardee foot- a nutritious diet to the children, but after every baller, keenly follows the ball. She eventually picks practice session we ensure that these players have out a burly footballer and calls him over to her something to eat,” says the club’s secretary and position. “How old are you?” she asks. “Seven- coach, Tapan Ray. teen,” the player replies. “Take care with your tackExisting funds rarely allow the club to add to the les. These kids might get hurt.” tiffin of flattened rice and sugar that is provided Mullick is among the 14-odd football coaches at compulsorily to the players. A player such as the Avenue Sammilani Club at Kolkata’s Rabindra 12-year-old Sudipto Ghosh can do with a more Sarovar who offers her services as a trainer without nutritious diet, admits Ray. Ghosh is among the charging a fee. Benefiting from the voluntary work many trainee footballers at the club whose parents of coaches is a spirited gang of almost 700 children are involved in low-earning professions such as and young adults. A majority of them come from those of domestic helps, rickshaw pullers and daily hard-up economic backgrounds from the neigh- labourers. “Even if we want to add a banana to bouring slums in Lake Gardens or Tollygunge as Sudipto’s diet, we can’t because of fund conwell as distant suburban centres such as Baruipur, straints,” Ray says. Serampore, even BardhaWhile the club generates man. “I would say a little finances from donations by more than 80% of the kids members and non-members, come from poor families,” and through the advertiseTHE DIWALI says Mullick. These youngments it picks up for an annual sters are taught football skills brochure, most of it is utilized three days a week throughout towards keeping the game Funding to provide one boiled the year for free. It is a tradigoing and providing jerseys egg, two bananas and a tion that the club has mainand boots to players. “When piece of bread for 200 tained from 1942; and it has children from well-off families accounted for countless playcome for training, we don’t trainees a day. ers, such as Subhas Bhowcharge any fee from them mick, Sukalyan Ghosh Dastieither but request their par100 pairs of football boots. dar, Pintu Sur, Prasanta Banents to contribute in some erjee and Tushar Rakshit, way,” says Ray. who have honed their talent 100 football jerseys. at the club and gone on to Shamik Bag
WISHLIST
Football fever: The Avenue Sammilani Club in Kolkata wants to train more children in football.
India Youth Soccer Association, New Delhi
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his is a scoring game, look Delhi put on their footat the way the kids are ball boots for training at boxed into a small space, IYSA. The organization THE DIWALI with the goalposts really provides excellent infraclose to each other,” says the structure—hundreds of diminutive Arup Das, pointfootballs and brightly ing to the field. Young boys A permanent football coloured training cones, between the ages of 10 and mobile goalposts, firstground. 12 are playing out an intense aid k its, a w el l -m ainmatch in a small part of the tained football field and Longterm funding. field, marked by red cones six coaches, all of whom and two mobile goalposts. are former state-level “It’s to encourage them to footballers. International partnership for shoot at goal—they get a shot “Right now, it’s not coaching and equipment. at it every 20 seconds or so.” about producing profesDas is the founder of India sional players,” says Youth Soccer Association (IYSA), a Delhi- Das. “Our objective is to get more and more based organization that provides football of these children to come and play the coaching to underprivileged children from game, and to give them a good grasp of the areas such as Vasant Vihar, Vasant Kunj, basics.” Basant Gaon and Sarojini Nagar for free Nine-year-old Prakash Arya, whose father and organizes leagues and tournaments for is a domestic cook, joined IYSA a month them as well. ago, and was immediately spotted by the The children are from the government coaching staff as a special talent. “I love schools in these areas; it’s a mix of children playing,” Arya says, “and getting all this who live in slums, slum clusters, govern- training is the best thing that has happened ment housing, servant quarters in apart- to me.” ments and houses, among others. “Every “The children here, their main problem is child here gets a ball for himself during the lack of good nutrition,” says Das. “But training,” says Das. “When a person has a they are also hardier than kids from more ball with him, it’s called ‘on-time’. And the privileged backgrounds. They want to work more ‘on-time’ you have, the better you will harder, they are mentally tougher, and they get at the game.” are far more likely to be sportsmen.” From Monday to Friday every week, almost 200 underprivileged children in Rudraneil Sengupta
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INDRANIL BHOUMIK/MINT
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A LEG UP
SPORTS SANS BOUNDARIES
Magic Bus, Mumbai
Sneha Care Home and Bangalore Schools Sports Foundation (BSSF), Bangalore
www.magicbusindia.org
www.snehacare.org/snehacarehome_bangalore.html and www.bssf.in
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en years ago, nine-year-old Parvati Pujari, their lives and abilities—but most of all, just a who lives in a colony in Lower Parel, Mum- chance to play. “There are a lot of NGOs bai, found herself on a games trip to Dahanu, addressing health, education, nutrition for Maharashtra. “I’d never taken a trip before,” children from marginalized areas,” says she remembers. “And it was total fun—we Sohan Shah, head of sustainability at Magic played games and went trekking, did lots of cre- Bus. “That kind of symptomatic work is necesative activity.” Two months after that, Magic sary. But we do something lateral.” Bus, the organization which took her on that Sustainability is important to Magic Bus. trip, turned up again, this time to play football Their programme touches 3,000 children a with her and the other children. year in Mumbai, at over 50 locations across “At first, I didn’t think much about what I the city, but “we aim to reach a million chilwas doing,” she says. “What I know now—to dren within the next three years through a strike the ball with the inside of the foot, to nationwide expansion of the Magic Bus prodribble, the skills, the laws—came later.” She gramme in other cities and through rural loved the game, and learnt well. Now a India,” says Shah. 19-year-old commerce student at Siddhartha College of Commerce and Economics, with a Supriya Nair diploma in physical education, Pujari is still with Magic Bus. She is a mentor and trainer, in what is THE DIWALI among the city’s oldest and most famous sportsfor-development proSustainable and strategic grammes. partnerships for financial support. Several of her fellow trainers at Magic Bus are young men and women Communications partners like her, giving children in media and advertising. from Mumbai’s most disadvantaged areas, includVolunteers committed to at least ing Budhwar Park (Colaba), Bhagat Singh two monthly attendances on Nagar (Jogeshwari) and field or office work Dharavi, the chance to once a week. learn crucial lessons about
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he Shining Star School is set of modules looking at nestled inside the camother aspects like their edupus of Sneha Care Home in cation and the arts, but now THE DIWALI south-east Bangalore. The also look at sport as an allschool is a residential care round developmental tool,” facility for children infected says Fr Perumpil. Shining Star School with HIV, coming mainly In this, he has not been A physical training from poor families in and alone. The Bangalore instructor who can guide the around Bangalore. Schools Sports Foundation sporting activities. On the instructions of (BSSF)—an NGO that aims Father Mathew Perumpil, the to promote sport at the grass director of Sneha Care roots—also uses sports as a 20 football jerseys for boys Home, the children don means of empowerment. and girls each. their playing jerseys and “These may be children who set foot on their little footare HIV-affected, but we ball field. Seven-year-old have no clue about the 10 handballs. Raju and eight-year-old strength and the potential Rohit would have us they have till we expose them Bangalore Schools Sports believe they are the stars to different things and find Foundation (BSSF) of their respective teams. out what they are good at,” Little Ragini cranes her neck says Elvis Joseph, the founNeed a venue to play sports. to demolish the boys’ claims. dation’s director. The BSSF Manju, the youngest and has been instrumental in newest member of the school, lifts a handball developing sports modules for HIV-affected chiland hops to Fr Perumpil and us, displaying his dren at the Shining Star School. Along with a might. After two noisy games of football, the chil- team of experts that included sports consultants, dren switch to one long match of handball. teachers, doctors and others, they drew up a plan “We think of sports as a way of contributing to find out what impact playing sports could have to the development of the on these children. This meant getting the chilcognitive skills, confidence dren together to play—and importantly, “getting and self-belief of these them uniforms”. children. We had a “Sport is one of the surest ways of fighting the social stigma associated with HIV,” Joseph says. “So we’re now planning an event where kids of Shining Star School will compete against other mainstream schoolchildren. We want to make sport an enabler for these kids to join mainstream society—as other responsible citizens.”
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Rahul Jayaram Write to lounge@livemint.com * Some names in the article have been changed to protect identities.
PHOTOGRAPHS
BY
ANIRUDDHA CHOWDHURY/MINT
Equalizer: Sports can be one way to combat the social stigma associated with HIV.
‘RAIDING’ FOR TALENT A former international ‘kabaddi’ player who won the Arjuna award in 2001, C.H. Gowda scouts for talent across Karnataka and nurtures it at the Bangalore Maruthi Kabaddi Club
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he Bangalore Maruthi Yeshwanthpur, Nelamangala, Kabaddi Club lies inside Chikkabanavara and Mathikere. the government high school in Gowda took to kabaddi early. His THE DIWALI Subedarpalya in Bangalore. As father, who was a trolley driver with we enter the school, some teenBharat Electronics Ltd, Bangalore, age kabaddi players are prepardidn’t mind his son’s sporting exerA ‘kabaddi’ mat. It’s similar ing the ground for their daily tions. The only thing that bothered to the one on which judo is practice. A player is making him was the possibility of serious played. But a lot thinner. It costs squares and rectangles for the injury. It’s something Gowda con`6 lakh. Playing on mats will kabaddi court with rangoli fronts often. “Injury is one of the reapowder, another is watering the sons people don’t get into the sport make the sport more attractive patch and clearing it of pebbles. much,” he says. “Often, I have to and popular. Standing with arms akimbo convince parents of talented players is their coach and friend-phiwho want to pursue it seriously. This losopher-guide. He signals to is the hardest part.” One electronic scoreboard. the female kabaddi players on Another issue he highlights is the a smaller court nearby to warm recent changes within the game. 34 pairs of Tshirts for boys up. Before everyone crosses the “Nowadays, kabaddi is played on a white line on to the court, they mat. India may be a strong kabaddi and 20 pairs for girls. pay obeisance to the court, first team even now, but the difference kabaddihonnappa@gmail.com touching the ground and then between mud and mat is big.” He their lips, eyes and forehead. likens the change in the game to the For them, this is no game. It is worship. And if the court one in hockey, when the playing surface shifted from is a temple, Channathimmaiah Honnappa Gowda, 37, grass to astroturf. The story of Indian hockey thereafter is its high priest. is well known. Gowda doesn’t want something like that Gowda, who won the Arjuna award in 2001, scouts to happen in his game. “I’m training my players here, for kabaddi talent through the city and the state. At the but even they know that we need more modern ameniBangalore Maruthi Kabaddi Club, he trains talented ties to become truly top class.” young boys and girls free of cost. The players come from lower middle class set-ups from areas such as Rahul Jayaram
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Talent scout: Honnappa with the girls team at the Bangalore Maruthi Kabaddi Club.
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THE TRICKLEDOWN EFFECT Seven heads of organizations tell us how they got involved with ‘giving back to society’ and how they approach charity work B Y S ONYA D UTTA C HOUDHARY ··································
RASHESH SHAH Chairman and CEO, Edelweiss For Rashesh and Vidya Shah, giving back is an extension of what they already do. “At Edelweiss we are an investment banking firm—essentially a bridge between the providers of capital and the users of capital. So we thought why don’t we do this for NGOs, since raising capital is usually a big hassle for them,” explains Rashesh. Over the years, the couple have found that most NGOs are not run as businesses. “They are fighting fires every day trying to get `5,000 or `10,000 from somewhere,” says Rashesh. The idea was to lend their financial expertise to the not-for-profit sector and that is what led the Shahs to set up the EdelGive Foundation in 2008. Headed by Vidya Shah, Rashesh’s wife and formerly CFO of Edelweiss, the division works with 28 NGOs supported by the company. Every year this department also institutes an awards programme—five awards are given to NGOs working in education and women’s empowerment and the company commits to support them. The support includes funds (`4.5 crore was disbursed last year) as well as management advice. “For Mumbai Mobile Creches and Aangan Trust, we devised technology solutions to help them become more efficient in day-to-day processes such as payroll and MIS (management information systems), respectively. For Masoom and Under the Mango Tree, we worked towards building a fiveyear strategic plan with thoughts on organization structure, hiring plans, fundraising strategies and process improvements,” says Vidya. Children of Edelweiss’ employees, including Rashesh and Vidya’s 14-yearold son Neal, are also encouraged to teach English and computers at six night schools in Mumbai (held in municipal school premises).
VR FEROSE Managing director, SAP Labs India V.R. Ferose is involved with Navjyoti India Foundation, Delhi, the brainchild of former police officer Kiran Bedi. The foundation is into a host of activities, such as a
drug de-addiction programme, education, women’s empowerment, rural and urban development, etc. “I had invited Dr Bedi to our office in Gurgaon, and after our first meeting she asked whether I would like to work with her. Luckily I was then working in Gurgaon and could join the School Ke Baad School project.” There were a lot of slum children dropping out of school because they had to take care of their siblings. Bedi asked Ferose what he was most passionate about. “I love music, and so decided to start the music school where children aged 8-14, who have not been exposed to any musical instrument, are enrolled.” He helped find a teacher to conduct the classes when he moved to Bangalore. “When I go to Delhi now on work, which is once a month, I visit the school and spend time with the children. We are trying to do an event annually and sponsor children with talent.”
AMIT CHANDRA Managing director, Bain Capital Amit Chandra got a full scholarship when he set out to do an MBA in the US. That he had a chance at an education well beyond his financial means at the time made Chandra decide early on in life that he too
would strive to create such opportunities for others. “I got interested in Akanksha because it is associated with education and it helps to give children, who otherwise would never have a chance, a shot at education.” Last January, Amit and his wife Archana, and employees of Bain Capital, raised `1.49 crore for Akanksha and other NGOs by running at the Standard Chartered Marathon Dream Run in Mumbai. The Chandras also support the Tata Medical Center and Cancer Patients Aid Association “We lost a loved one to leukaemia and saw first-hand how good healthcare can make a difference,” says Amit. While he credits his mother for instill-
ing in him the values of giving, over time he says he has been influenced by the approach to “giving” displayed by Bill Gates, Warren Buffett, Anu Aga, his sister Monica and her husband Nitin Nohria. Amit also runs a fellowship programme at Boston University with his sister. Additionally, Chandra and his sister have committed `45 lakh to four needy but deserving international students over a period of three years.
though stages in their lifetime; sometimes they can give money, sometimes they can give time, at other times they can’t give. And that is all right,” says Buch. In fact, she empathizes with Lakshmi Mittal when he
HEMENDRA KOTHARI Chairman, DSP BlackRock Hemendra Kothari spent last weekend at the Gir National Park & Wildlife Sanctuary. “Over years, the attitudes of the local people have changed and that’s interesting. Earlier, there was always a conflict between man and beast. Now, if a lion turns rogue, the villagers no longer try to kill it. Instead they
phone the forest department, who send a rescue squad. It took years of work before this point has been reached,” says Kothari, with some pride. Kothari, who has enjoyed visiting forests since his college days, now wants to give back. “Not many people realize how important the forest is. So besides education, public health and our heritage, protection of forests and wildlife is one area I am keen to continue working in,” he says. The Hemendra Kothari Foundation invests in trying to generate alternative skills and employment for villagers in forest areas, as well as donating essential items such as rescue ambulances and patrolling kits. Some of the NGOs the foundation supports are TRACT, TadobaAndhari; Bombay Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (BSPCA), Mumbai; Corbett Foundation, Corbett and Kanha; Katti Trust, Pune; and Wildwatchers, Kolkata. “You have to be able to enjoy giving. It is something that comes slowly. In India people have been building wealth only from the last two decades. Once there is a feeling of security, philanthropy will increase,” says Kothari.
MADHABI PURI BUCH Managing director and CEO, ICICI Securities “I have rather radical views about giving. I feel every individual and corporate goes
says he is too busy contributing to the GDP and employment in 15 countries. “Why do we accuse him of not giving? Does giving have to be the way Bill Gates and Warren Buffett have defined it to be?” she questions. Buch herself has been involved with the not-for-profit space for a while. After graduating from the Indian Institute of Management, Ahmedabad, in 1988, she opted for deferred placement and joined Pradan (a not-for-profit organization) for a year. Two decades later, this CEO has once again become active in charity work. In 2008, she set up the Toofles Foundation—a platform that takes old possessions (“anything from a pin to an elephant”) and resells them and then donates the money collected from the sale to the donor’s favourite charity. “When General Mills, Mumbai, was moving office they gave us their office equipment—from workstations to chilling units. We sold it all, raised `4 lakh and gave it to Baif (Bharatiya Agro Industries Foundation), the NGO they had nominated,” says Buch.
MEERA SANYAL Country executive, India, Royal Bank of Scotland Meera Sanyal spent a few days in December in Mangalajodi, a village 75km south of Bhubaneswar. Host to thousands of migratory birds, this village has been able, with help from the RBS
Foundation and local NGO Wild Orissa, to transform itself from a poacher’s stronghold to an ecotourism hub. “My parents and grandparents were members of the Ramakrishna Mission—they believed in the Protestant work
ethic of hard work and giving back to the community. I believe in that too,” says Sanyal. “My experience in fund-raising is that people would like to give but sometimes don’t because they feel they don’t know whether whatever they give will be enough. So when SUPPORT (an NGO that works with street children in Mumbai) came to us for funding, I thought a fundraising drive internally would be a good idea. We decided that everyone would contribute anything between `100 and `500 every month from their salary and the organization would match it.” Someone told Sanyal this was just a drop in the ocean, but she believes “it is with drops that you make the ocean”.
PRIA SOMIAH Executive director, Miditech For the past five years, Somiah has worked on educational/art/science/ learning shows for children. “Through this work, I began to feel that there are several ways to impart learning. Children in the labourers’ basti behind our house are left behind every day by their parents. Most of these people are migrants and live in a sort of no man’s land—forgotten
by the government and not really on anyone’s radar. A lady, Ila Ghei, who lives in the locality, takes classes under a tree. We both got together, spoke to the builder where these labourers were working, and got him to donate a room.” It is in reality a shed, which Somiah renovated before she asked for volunteers to give tuitions to the children. “A 20-year-old volunteered, and the school began with one teacher and 55 children. We will celebrate the first anniversary of our school on 14 November.” Somiah refers to this as Project Chehera and the school, where she spends 2-3 hours a week, as the Ambience Basti Learning Club. She takes an art class once a week, and has taken the children for a visit to the Galli Galli Sim Sim (Sesame India) sets. She also tries to rope in friends and colleagues to take sessions with the children on general knowledge, wildlife and health. Sulekha Nair contributed to this story. Write to lounge@livemint.com ABHIJIT BHATLEKAR/MINT
Committed: Rashesh Shah with son Neal (behind him, in a white Tshirt), wife Vidya and daughter Avanti (sitting in her lap) at the Utkarsh Night School in Mumbai.