The World walked on, did not look back (Kolkatta: A world of Apathy)

Man left to Die : Source : TIMES NOW

 

(link:The bus stopped midway to get rid of him. The old man got down trembling. He leaned against the shutter of a closed shop, gasping for breath. Passersby saw him but didn’t offer help. They informed the Bantra police, who took hours to sort out if the case was under their jurisdiction. The man lay on the road unattended for three and a half hours until he died. Kadam Prasad Panth, a Nepali, had come to the city in his youth to work as a security guard. He lived with a fellow guard, Raj Kumar Chhetri, in a school at Kasundia in Howrah. Early on Wed-nesday, Panth took a route 52 bus from Howrah station after returning from Nepal. He was headed to Ghoshpara, his local address. Mid-way, he started feeling dizzy. Trembling and gasping, he stumbled out of the bus at the Gouriya Math stop on Netaji Subhas Road. He didn’t even have the strength to carry his luggage, and the conductor and other passengers were in a hurry. The bus moved on with his boxes. It was 6.30 in the morning.

Pause, Think and Go ahead with your life : We would SHIVER WITH INEXPLICABLE FITS OF RAGE AND HELPLESSNESS, if we were to face one of our elderly family members dead in such unfortunate and inhuman situation. You may mumble that I am rich, have taken adequate care & ensured every damn thing in the world, so that my elders can enjoy their last phase with a sense of Comfort. But, DEATH does not come with prior a notice or an appointment. It’s such sheer a matter of disgrace that most of us, in those demanding times, fail to emerge as True Humans. What can I say ? I truly thank the bloody world and the bloody-inefficient system around me for being so unbelievably kind to fellow humans, especially, the old & the withered who carry human struggle against life, visibly and miserably.   

 

Tapa and Rinku’s film “We See”

(based on the article by Tathagata Bhattacharya-The Week. I captured what the author intended to communicate about this project, reproduced certain printed content to avoid ”distortion”)

One amongst a few things, I truly enjoy these days, in solitude, besides relishing the gradual movement of silence to pacify, detoxify the anguished body of mine, is reading thought-provoking articles on many a kind of issue, surprisingly BIG visions by SMALL people. The write-up by Tathagata Bhattacharya on “Little minds and Big visions”  {The Week} has captivated me so much that I felt like highlighting it in my space. Tathagata starts his article with Paulo Freire’s quote  in Pedagogy of Hope: Reliving Pedagogy of the Oppressed

….“The idea that hope alone will transform the world, and action undertaken in that kind of naiveté, is an excellent route to hopelessness, pessimism, and fatalism. But the attempt to do without hope, in the struggle to improve the world, as if that struggle could be reduced to calculated acts alone, or a purely scientific approach, is a frivolous illusion”. 

Tathagata Bhattacharya-The Week mentioned that through their film, which was shot almost entirely on the roof of their home on a handheld digital camera, young boys Tapa Bhowmick and Rinku Babu Mondol, inmates of Muktaneer, a home for destitute boys run by {link:Centre for Communication and Development (CCD)} in Madhyamgram, reached out to the International audiences. Their film has been selected for the “Auburn International Film and Video Festival for Children and Young Adults” to be held in Sydney. The film has also been sent to participate in many other International Film Festivals held across such as the “Kids for Kids International Film Festival” in Naples, the “Chicago International Children’s Film Festival”, the “Tehran International Children’s Film Festival” and “Fike, New Zealand”.

…….The author of this article captured the essence of this film in Rinku’s words….”the children play kings of various countries, each king makes a unique declaration. One king says his country will not have any mosquitoes so that children do not fall prey to malaria and dengue. Another promises that children in his country will always play, while another king says every child will receive a certain amount of money so that he does not have to work. But, ultimately, they realize that reality is painfully different. It hurts their conscience and they take an oath to ensure that every child has access to education and health care, and that no child has to work in brick kilns or shrimp farms”.

Rinku, who is adept at Still and Video Photography, who has a natural instinct to capture life, aspires to become a doctor – both to serve poor people and to make money. ‘Í have seen what poverty is. My father passed away when I was very young. We went to stay with my mother’s parents, who, too, were poor. Had the centre not come to my rescue, God knows what would have happened. I have got so much from here. I have to pay back as well”

{link :One more excellently written post on  such brilliant young children : Through the Eyes of Children}

I am both amazed by and proud of this simple yet profound statement from young boys, who, unfortunately can not attend their film screening in Sydney, as their home CCD is now facing severe financial crunch. As mentioned in the article, the home does not have funds for airfare for 40 children. And it also has not received any assistance from the Centre or the State, a few staff members stopped taking salaries, a few walk to work and back to save money.  

I wonder, why can not the National carrier in the skies – The Air India take up the responsibility of carrying aross this brilliant crew to the Island of Kangaroo? Why can not a heritage hotel endorse their basic living facility so that they can represent the country through their honest, truly inspiring endeavor at a film festival of such International a stature? Why can not….if one thinks, one pauses amidst the hustle-bustle of one’s life, there would definitely be many an option. I am astounded by the fact that there are no endorsers from Indian Corporates, for these young Indian boys who are poised to represent India, one of the BRIC economies, a flourishing knowledge economy. Or is this due to inadequate a level of saliency about such accomplishments amongst Corporates ? Political leaders ? Media ? Child Welfare authorities? Bureaucrats ? Obscene amounts of money are wasted for nonsensical pollution as propagated by political campaigns, for parading political representatives in front of some leader who is at the helm of country’s affairs, but no one has enough funds to appreciate a genuine effort by young boys. And I am ashamed when the most so-perceived educated communicators, those blessed with a sharp bend of mind, thought and tongue, do not even have the courtesy to raise some intelligent noise about the same. Perhaps, they may write about these boys post-their struggle to reach newer heights and Celebrityhood, later in life. 

Thanking Tathagata Bhattacharya of The Week! One’s social conscience needs to be awakened and its momentum to be sustained through capturing such precious journeys embarked upon by individuals - a child or an adult, to a large extent, go unnoticed by the materialistic world. Articles penned by individuals like you would nourish one’s forever-sagging social conscience, especially, in the forever-getting richer society where more and more families fumbling their way into “Nouveau Riche” segment, who pamper young blighters to a dismally disappointing  extent that everything comes to them “gift-wrapped”, with zero-efforts, while a majority struggle on the streets for a handful of rice.

Thimmakka wants to be born as a tree in her next birth…

{Picture and the Quote, Courtesy : The Hindu}

{I say…} She is not a part of those Page 3 parties, which display the hot and happening crowds in the city. She does not enjoy discussions on the finest way of celebrating life over a long slender necked flute glass of champagne. She does not entertain evenings filled with mirthful laughter and fun amidst many freshly scrubbed faces indulging in manipulative glances and chambers of gossips over a glass of wine. She does not find space in the 50 Most Beautiful Indian Women, painstakingly, listed by a leading publication in the country. She is an illiterate old woman, {wikipedia link:Salumarada Thimakka}. And she is a mother of 400, says The Hindu. According to me, she is a truly “Inspiring, moving, poignant human tale”. It’s refreshing to read a human tale amidst the cacophony of political dramas, power struggles, exploitations of vulnerable lives by politicians and bureaucrats hailed from the house of Cobwebs. How many of us, I wonder, possess such courage to progress on  an indescribable mission, to materialise a sense of responsibility that was felt sometime ago, sincerely dedicating self something that one’d believed and sustain the momentum regardless of support of varied kind, that unflinching strength blended with  unconquerable human spirit? Do we really have time and energies to spend a few seconds on such noble thoughts? No. We are just emotionless nuts and bolts, toilet paper, steel chambers, wooden tables, pins and needles in mundane drone and groan of life, reeking up houses, streets, cold and steely conference rooms, power-dressed wooden chambers, highly fragrant iron corridors of success and brutal ambition, with silly and nonsensical discussions on to improve, accelerate or sustain consumption, economic transactions, mergers and acquisitions.

{link:The Hindu reports, SALUMARADA THIMMAKKA, the woman who planted banyan trees as her life’s mission along the Bangalore-Nelamangala highway, is certainly not a household name in the “happening” metropolis. For, she went about her selfless work for 45 years without any fuss or publicity. And, of course, she never called herself an environmental activist, though she planted and painstakingly watered and nurtured some 400-odd trees, along with her husband, Chikkaiah}

The part given below is a reproduction of content from today’s Times of India, …..

She is from Kulur, had longed to be a mother, but since she could not, she and her husband decided to parent the saplings they would plant. However, with agriculture as their only source of livelihood, there was not much money they could spare for planting trees.  Thimmakka then started off by cutting branches of banyan trees and planting them around their hut. Gradually, the number grew to 10 and later scores were planted along the Bangalore-Nelamangala highway. Never realizing their unique contribution towards society, the couple sought no publicity. Yet they got facilitated on innumerable occasions. But the pressing need for financial support from the government for their initiative remained - which is yet to come. Her letters and repeated reminders to the government to provide her with free bus pass has fallen on deaf ears, yet she is not complaining. All she has to sustain on is her husband’s pension, which is a meager amount to sustain a living, leave apart her passion to plant and nurse the saplings…

Update : {Link : Case studies on Women in Forestry}

Chotu asked me…{Street Children}

 
{link:I am glad. Absolutely nothing has changed in me.
With respect to them}

Didi {means sister},
why do not you buy my books?  
your book does not have pictures.
I have many books with colorful pictures. 
A huge tide of innocence – slapped down on me so hard, left me wondering
why do people say such children, who sell different things
on the streets, everyday, are like “a bag of tricks”?
 
 
Didi,
mujhe woh gudiya dena please ?
{Please give me that little doll – a little hand at the rag doll in my car}  
A little girl forgets to sell her load of magazines. Just for a few seconds. 
She, all of a sudden, remembers her need to clutch a doll.
Why does mom say such children, who sell different things
on the streets, everyday, are “a bunch of liars”?
 Children of Streets wake up early, when it’s still almost dark out there

Their faces look as if they are still dreaming of good little things, they

saw other children enjoying previous day, evening or night….

Holding each other’s arms, hands over their buddies, together they walk on

to face the sky, which is waking up, promising a few more coins today.  There’s no one for them in this world, but other children who are just

like them - no school, empty stomachs, to do things together - sell things,

play hide and seek between the cars, pose with smiles to the cameras.  

As the classic from Phil Collins goes on ….
  
She calls out to the man on the street

sir, can you help me?

Its cold and Ive nowhere to sleep,

Is there somewhere you can tell me?

He walks on, doesnt look back

He pretends he cant hear her

Starts to whistle as he crosses the street

Seems embarrassed to be there
Oh think twice, its another day for

You and me in paradise

Oh think twice, its just another day for you,

You and me in paradise


 
We meet children like Chotu everyday in our respective cities. He is one of them, 
18 million+ children who live or work on the streets of urban India. Roads blazing
with burning sun under their bare feet, scorching sun beating down on their little 
heads and gnawing hunger in the pit of their tiny stomachs, do not deter them, as 
they constantly are under this heartless pressure from their team leaders or big 
bullies or clumsly-clad men with drugged looks, or their moms {could be real ones 
or temporary ones} to sell their wares to every car, scooter, auto-rickshaw....
They constantly monitor the "Red, Orange, and Green" colours of the traffic 
signal. Interestingly, most of them, still ,seem to have their innocent smiles 
intact, which they beam at friendly looking strangers.  
Behind their cherubic smiles, lie darker shadows of problems they face every 
moment - problems of many kind, much bigger than those we face, more intense
- malnutrition, hunger, health problems, substance abuse, theft, harassment by 
the authority police and railway authorities, as well as physical and sexual 
abuse. Tiny little tots, barely a few months old, with their little foreheads or 
eyes or hands bandaged in grimy rags, with a hint of "red-colored blood", 
are used as devices by their mothers {such babies can be borrowed for a week}, 

in "criss-cross begging" on the main streets, loosely holding them against their
breasts. Everything - the dust, the hunger, the sun, the monsoon, the cold 
winter work relentless on these children. And most of them lay insensate, 
fragile to such acts of brutality, as they are under the influence of some 
weird drugs.


Who has given Who to snatch away their right to enjoy a childhood filled 
with innocent joys from them? 
Who do we have here - parents or the system, to blame?

Can anyone respond to me? Can anyone care to pause and think about this?

What's that tiny gesture each one of us can spare for Children of Roads?   

To the Lost Child Priyanka Bhotmange

{link:We weep our silent tears}

Amidst hum of the multitude, I could just mumble a poem for you. The bravest girl!

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there. I did not die.  

….The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost. ~Arthur Schopenhauer

I request the visitor to stay silent for a moment. LET US FEEL FOR A HUMAN LIKE A HUMAN. Thank you.

*The Poem was written at least 50yrs ago. Has been attributed, at different times, to JT Wiggins, Mary E.Fry and Marianne Reinhardt, and recently to a British soldier killed in Northern Ireland, Stephen Cummins (who left a copy for his relatives)