Granny's place!

First Day Gossip

First day in the bestest tiny town. The first thing to happen is gossip exchange right? Oh yes! With a grandmother and a grand aunt, the local stories take on romantic and seemingly mythic proportions.

The first one I was to hear was of the heroic local Talaivan (meaning leader and member of the municipal council) and his downfall. He was so good and so giving that the locals held him in awe.  A true leader, he remembered names, from children to senior citizens and unfailingly asked after people. As a council member, he provided water, electricity and much else. Sadly, the giving depleted his purse and after severe fights with his relatives, he left for a nursing home. He died of cardiac arrest and people were informed. “The middle-class just shed a few tears at the funeral”, said my grandmother. “The poor, so indebted to this great man decided to give him a send-off suited to his stature. They collected more that five thousand rupees and got the taara tappata (traditional percussionist who played at funerals, an old art) for him. They also got large poster of him printed, with farewell quotes. Ah, his generosity was rewarded indeed, so much money from the slums!”  Such an interesting tale of hamartia and the fall of the great no? The news of his death was shared with a pressing need and provided much material for lamentations, discussions on good politicians and bedtime stories.

We had a visitor later, an old acquaintance, and the brother of an erstwhile playmate. “You may not remember me, but I’m sure you remember our dog Puppy”, he said. He didn’t need to mention the only Pomeranian I ever liked (a thoroughly annoying breed that can neither be hit or tolerated), he was a nice person and I remembered the elder-brotherly air. “You once poured mud over Puppy’s food”, my grandmother added with a laugh. Do they not remember the nice things I did? Well, to be fair I was the bitchy, ever-annoyed kid who demanded too much attention from dumb animals and was generous in avenging slights.

He began showing my grandparents his wedding photos and I was genuinely surprised at a certain new development, he had grey hair! We had grown old? He kept talking about the absence of his family at the marriage and his sister’s sudden marriage, which sounded like something that had been preponed by the family but the tension around convinced me that he was talking about a love-marriage. “I bought the jewels and the gifts but she called the other brothers and arranged all of it. I was to give her away. After all the effort, they took part in the ceremonies and I just showed my face and came”. A hint of sadness there, what was going on?

This story went back in time too, another grandmother’s tale about the evil world. Once upon a time, a couple had 4 sons and a daughter. As they grew old and infirm, their eldest three sons left them, never to communicate again. The man dies and his wife had a stroke that left her paralyzed and invalid. Her youngest son took a small job in the town and looked after her, with the help of his sister, whose housework and demeanor was good and noble. The pair did this for almost a decade, working, earning and caring. The girl left for Pune and later, the boy moved with his mother to a bigger city. His sister took a transfer and they rented a home. His brothers, being unwilling to help him find a bride were equally unwilling to accept his choice and he arranged the marriage alone. He got a permanent residence pass in a foreign country and having arranged for a full-time nurse, he arranged to leave. The brother who decided to pitch in went absconding today, unwilling to see her. Ah goodness! The only reward was…. Betrayal? The joint family seemed so defeated and crazy!

So, characters blown to epic proportion, the daily problems seem like the metaphorical tale of goodness unable to defeat evil. Westernization and the break-up of the joint family, the good poor who honoured their leader as the rich watched and talked. The plight of senior citizens in a country too poor to provide. Evil daughters-in-law and unsympathetic sons.  Runaway daughters and family feuds. Dwarfs the daily soaps we see eh?

I HAVE A FRIEND!

A girl, one I talk to often. We’ve spoken of nothings, sometimes more than nothings. We have met for momos, for coffee. We have shared laughs. She calls me her friend. She confides in me, and I in her. But my secrets do not matter, I have no lover to hide, no beau to hide secrets from. Her were treasures, so I had to guard my tongue, my soul.

I say something harsh to her beau, he is 19 years older and I laugh. Is this woman Jane Eyre, I think. Suddenly she is stern, a schoolmistress. I listen anyway, why anger a girl who calls me a friend?

I meet her far from our town and we hear talks together. Have lunch together. I meet her friends, uninterested in the place. We dine together, attend a dance. Ah, such revelry! I see her on the brink of giving in to something she may regret later and think, don’t friends save each other? I talk to her, cajole her to think of her love that wonderful man she keeps talking about. She calls me an overbearing person, couldn’t I see she was fine? I listen anyway, why anger a girl who calls me a friend?

We stay together, discuss serious things. What did I think of Ramachandra Guha? And labeling to destroy? What was post-colonialism? She mimics people from across the world, Texans, Bengalis, teachers, peers. She tells me I am not dumb, I am intellectual. I am dazzling. I ask her friend how things were with the friend’s ex. She is angry, I see. She turns her back and walks. She tells me later to return the fifty rupees she had lent me many weeks ago. And what of my few rupees, I think. But why ask, better to let the storm blow. I listen anyway, why anger a girl who calls me a friend?

I am sad, broken. So many things have happened. My post was taken away; a slip of a girl replaced me. I feel listless, I am ill. Many fights happen and I am using all my will to keep things together, to smile. She says she will call, I wait. Days pass. She says she will call and I wait. Weeks pass.  She says she would but were these not reassurances? I listen anyway, why anger a girl who calls me a friend?

Calamity after calamity! I need a friend to talk to but cannot find her. No car could take me to her, nothing could help me. Unsympathetic men wouldn’t understand, they only belittled the intensity of my pain. I search this crowd of ‘hellos’. She says she will call. I have exams too! I have commitments too! In the vast interstices of time, can one not find moments to talk to another? Was I not ‘intellectual’? Was I not a ‘friend’? Don’t they say that friends lend a shoulder, an ear? But that is from fables, she was my friend. Of course friends are busy. I must not make a spectacle of myself, calling, sending message after message. Perhaps I should drink it all in. Yes, that is what I must do. I do send a message. She has an exam the next day, she is busy. I listen anyway, why anger a girl who calls me a friend?

I meet her beloved, some strange place we never talk about, I wonder why. I was there to laugh at the crowds who thronged there, he was there to  admire the friends who had put up such a delightful show, a perfect little hack-piece of a real, most splendid thing. So many thousands of people and yet, I meet, him? Of course this was funny! We laugh at this absurdity. At Chance who plays strange games. He always sounded like a kindly person and I laughed at his good looks. He chided me for my sarcasm, for the jibes.

She sent me a message! Oh she wanted to talk to me, finally help me through this troubled time. Oh but maybe she heard about that meeting. But how was that possible? She hadn’t been talking to him; there had been some fight! Oh maybe she wanted to laugh at that absurd meeting. She asked me how I was, listened for a few moments. She told me what friends did not do. They did not tell their friend’s beloveds, even in jest that they had good looks. But surely she knew me! I would never breach so sacred a trust; she had called me a friend. She said I had misbehaved, although he had assured her it was jest but this was a talk between women. Why, I wondered. She had never gone beyond her limits, so neither must I. But I hadn’t! For a comment filled with sarcasm? For a laugh? The jealous fury of this girl who called me a friend? For a man who lived far away? But she told me this was how she felt. I listen anyway, why anger a girl who calls me a friend?

She chastised me in that schoolmistress way. I had only words, words that meant nothing. Was I to sympathize with her, who felt such jealousy? But why? This was something to laugh about, something about which we’d say, “can you imagine? Ha ha ha!” But no, this was greater than my misery, this laugh. Greater than my tears, my deep failure. I listen anyway, why anger a girl who calls me a friend?

She had called to extract a promise, one of silence. But don’t friends take the Vow of Secrecy? Was I not her good friend? She asked and I gave. I listen anyway, why anger a girl who calls me a friend?

Why call me a friend, disloyal, spiteful, lustful seditious me? Incapable of honour, of restraint? A slut to run after men? I needed a talk, but I wasn’t worthy of such time. But I eagerly received her. I listen anyway, why anger a girl who calls me a friend?

First Day Gossip

First Day Gossip

First day in the bestest tiny town. The first thing to happen is gossip exchange right? Oh yes! With a grandmother and a grand aunt, the local stories take on romantic and seemingly mythic proportions.

The first one I was to hear was of the heroic local Talaivan (meaning leader and member of the municipal council) and his downfall. He was so good and so giving that the locals held him in awe.  A true leader, he remembered names, from children to senior citizens and unfailingly asked after people. As a council member, he provided water, electricity and much else. Sadly, the giving depleted his purse and after severe fights with his relatives, he left for a nursing home. He died of cardiac arrest and people were informed. “The middle-class just shed a few tears at the funeral”, said my grandmother. “The poor, so indebted to this great man decided to give him a send-off suited to his stature. They collected more that five thousand rupees and got the taara tappata (traditional percussionist who played at funerals, a n old art) for him. They also got large poster of him printed, with farewell quotes. Ah, his generosity was rewarded indeed, so much money from the slums!”  Such an interesting tale of hamartia and the fall of the great no? The news of his death was shared with a pressing need and provided much material for lamentations, discussions on good politicians and bedtime stories.

We had a visitor later, an old acquaintance, and the brother of an erstwhile playmate. “You may not remember me, but I’m sure you remember our dog Puppy”, he said. He didn’t need to mention the only Pomeranian I ever liked (a thoroughly annoying breed that can neither be hit or tolerated), he was a nice person and I remembered the elder-brotherly air. “You once poured mud over Puppy’s food”, my grandmother added with a laugh. Do they not remember the nice things I did? Well, to be fair I was the bitchy, ever-annoyed kid who demanded too much attention from dumb animals and was generous in avenging slights.

He began showing my grandparents his wedding photos and I was genuinely surprised at a certain new development, he had grey hair! We had grown old? He kept talking about the absence of his family at the marriage and his sister’s sudden marriage, which sounded like something that had been preponed by the family but the tension around convinced me that he was talking about a love-marriage. “I bought the jewels and the gifts but she called the other brothers and arranged all of it. I was to give her away. After all the effort, they took part in the ceremonies and I just showed my face and came”. A hint of sadness there, what was going on?

This story went back in time too, another grandmother’s tale about the evil world. Once upon a time, a couple had 4 sons and a daughter. As they grew old and infirm, their eldest three sons left them, never to communicate again. The man dies and his wife had a stroke that left her paralyzed and invalid. Her youngest son took a small job in the town and looked after her, with the help of his sister, whose housework and demeanor was good and noble. The pair did this for almost a decade, working, earning and caring. The girl left for Pune and later, the boy moved with his mother to a bigger city. His sister took a transfer and they rented a home. His brothers, being unwilling to help him find a bride were equally unwilling to accept his choice and he arranged the marriage alone. He got a permanent residence pass in a foreign country and having arranged for a full-time nurse, he arranged to leave. The brother who decided to pitch in went absconding today, unwilling to see her. Ah goodness! The only reward was…. Betrayal? The joint family seemed so defeated and crazy!

So, characters blown to epic proportion, the daily problems seem like the metaphorical tale of goodness unable to defeat evil. Westernization and the break-up of the joint family, the good poor who honoured their leader as the rich watched and talked. The plight of senior citizens in a country too poor to provide. Evil daughters-in-law and unsympathetic sons.  Runaway daughters and family feuds. Dwarfs the daily soaps we see eh?

Talks.

Swechha is  a  multifaceted  organization  working  for  environmental  conservation, waste  management,  underprivileged  children  and  volunteer   placements.  Each  wing  has its  own role to play  in  spreading  awareness  about  sustainable living  and  social  service.

Some of  the  environmental issues  intensive wings include Green-The-Gap,  INFLUENCE  and  Bridge-The-Gap.  INFLUENCE  conducts  internship and volunteer campaigns dealing with various social issues. I volunteered for the “Spotted Stop It” campaign dealing with waste generation  and its global impact in the future.  The  campaign  used  the  method  of  street theatre  and  mobile junk art exhibitions  to spread awareness and the team  performed in various college fests and market places with the simple message of ‘Use Less, Generate Less’.

Green-The-Gap  converts  non-biodegradable waste into wallets, jholas, coasters and more.  Swechha  hires its own tailors and workers  who are ensured fair conditions and salaries, thus  setting an example for workshops in Delhi. Green-The-Gap also gives its team  the opportunity to design and create “branded merchandise”  from  tetra packs, milk packing and bits of cloth. Bridge-The-Gap works with schools, creating awareness about environment related issues with field trips, interactive sessions and training. It helps children understand environmental problems by giving a new angle to textbook teaching.

Vedika  Jiandani is one  of  the co-coordinators  of Swechha. She started working for Swechha as an intern  before becoming a full time member of the team. She is a postgraduate from NIFT and works with the website, volunteer-management and recruitment.

Me – What inspires you to work with Swechha on its environment conscious campaigns?

Vedika Jiandani -The most inspiring thing is the enthusiasm, commitment and energy of the volunteers, who are so eager to learn and work. The second is the constant support of the Swechha staff. Also, the satisfaction of doing my bit for the environment and society.

Me-Tell us about the environment related projects and campaigns you have been a part of at Swechha.

Vedika – I co-coordinated the April 2011 Yamuna Yatra. We, along with 60 students from Vasant Valley School travelled to the Yamunotri, (the source of the river) and back. The purpose was to educate those class 11^th students about the condition of the river and the change in the water from the origin to Delhi and Vrindavan. (Delhi contributes to 80% of the river-water pollution, both industrially and through domestic sewage)

Me- Tell us more about volunteer mobilization. How does Swechha inspire people to participate in its campaigns?

Vedika – We do a lot of activities with volunteers at the college level under our ‘INFLUENCE’ program. We visit colleges across Delhi and interact with students, explain the different opportunities we can provide and understand their interests. We also conduct rural exposure camps on an annual basis where we take large groups of volunteers to villages where they get to see and interact with tribals. The idea is to help volunteers find their area of interest and we co-ordinate with many organisations at various levels for this.

Me- Swechha works a lot with school children. What is your prime focus?

Vedika – With school children, our focus is not only  to make them aware of the present environmental condition but also to make them think and  act in the best possible way. We regularly conduct workshops where they learn to use waste and create usable products. We take them on Yamuna walks and landfill walks as we believe in a more practical and action-based approach. When they understand the situation, children automatically start spreading awareness among their family and friends.

Me- Which campaign or project do you think s most successful and why?

Vedika-That’s really difficult to answer! However, I would say Yamuna Yatra. It is a 12-day journey to Yamunotri and back. Swechha has been organizing tem for 8 years now and has received the most amazing responses from participants. The stress is on  importance of saving the river that provides drinking water to more than 70% households in Delhi. After seeing, touching and tasting the pure  water of Yamunotri, the sight of the choking drain in Delhi leaves a deep impression.

Me- As an NGO, where do you think Swechha stands? What are the grey areas?

Vedika- Swechha is still a young organization and has a lot to accomplish. At the same time, I am happy to say that even as a fresher, Swechha gave me immense leadership opportunities.  It is constantly growing and so are the projects. The only grey area I can think of is changing the mindset of our population, which refuses to come out of its comfort zone to take action. However, I am certain that if we remain determined, there is nothing we cannot achieve.

Me- How is Swechha’s contribution different from other NGOs?

Vedika- I believe that every active NGO holds the same importance as another. Swechha has always believed in building efficient networks and collaborations which has always been our strong point.