TRAVELOGUE 2002
Letter from Calcutta January 2002
(We traveled to Calcutta in January 2002, as we do most years, to visit family as well as the projects supported by our small foundation. This is one of the letters I wrote home to fellow foundation board members, with copies to our children.) Hello troops -- It's Sunday morning in Calcutta and nothing much is scheduled for the day for a change, so I thought I would bring y'all up to date both on Shadhika and on general news. We've been here over two weeks now. Weather still OK, though the dust level is beyond my ability to describe. I think it's around 189 on the 10-point dust-saturation scale. Roadside plants display various shades of grey-brown, not a trace of green. It must be a mutation of sorts. These plants surely manage without chlorophyl activity or they would be dead. No ray of sunshine can reach the surface of the leaves blocked by half an inch of grit covering them all... The little patches of sidewalk not occupied by throngs of jostling people, or vendors sitting on bits of burlap behind small pyramids of onions and potatoes they sell, or by mangy dogs sleeping, or by squatting folks bathing with the aid of brass jugs of water, etc., are covered by piles of debris: broken clay jugs, empty coconut shells, rotting vegetables, shredded tires, and millions and millions of discarded thin plastic bags that cover everything like dirty snow... The West Bengal government has recently tried making the use of plastic bags illegal, but because of the volume of human cry resulting, they are now scaling back: only the smallest ones will be made illegal. Regrettably, in this country where recycling is not a novel concept, where everything imaginable has always been saved and reused again and again without government initiative, the plastic bag |
creates an environmental nightmare. They are too flimsy, so they rip after or during the first use, and the public, used to things that disintegrate relatively quickly when thrown away, simply drop them and let the wind collect them into drifts on every empty lot and unoccupied corner. It's a sad state of affairs.
You may be getting my drift that this trip seems less enchanting to me than earlier ones. Perhaps I am getting old? Apart from this, things are going fine. After about a week of family visits we took the train to Varanasi to see the Punjabi Hospital. Train was 4 hours late, which we spent standing up at a very dirty and very windy platform -- no waiting room in Durgapur... Train ride was OK, and we had a good hotel the evening we got there. Dr. Basu picked us up the next day and we drove to the hospital, to be received by a huge delegation consisting of several members of the hospital's board of directors, local dignitaries, and some 200 school children... Dr. Arora assembled them in our honor... We had mailed a "CARE package" to him, given to Juthica by an International Student Center colleague, whose Sunday School children produced little packages for the Indian children. They had seen photos of the Hospital, and this was a little outreach gesture motivated by Sunday School... There were a few short speeches, both of us received about 8-10 flower wreaths each from children, board members, hospital staff and who knows who else, and then we got to distribute goodies to all the kids. When Basu told us that a reception was planned for us on the way to the hospital I was dreading it a little -- you all know of my enthusiasm for rituals -- but it was actually quite alright... The most remarkable thing was that Everyone, and I mean everyone, said and repeated over and over, how they appreciated Dr. Arora's work in the hospital. He is considered a living saint by all who know him. They also went way overboard in expressing gratitude for the little help Shadhika was able to provide, of course. |
After all this we got to sit down with Arora and several of the medical staff. There are several retired doctors who volunteer and see patients in the hospital. There are a couple of nurses who are paid. They still do more eye surgery than anything else, but they now have a general surgical and maternity ward also. There are a total of some 50 beds, about half for eye patients. There is a hell of a lot of glaucoma and cataract in this part of the world... The state of the hospital looked a little better than three years ago. The occupied beds did have clean, white sheets and some semblance of mattress. They have an old full body x-ray machine, and a decent looking ophthalmoscope setup.
Dr. Arora is quite frail, but sharp as a tack, and assures us that he is fine. Our project is tremendously valued by him, and by the volunteer doctors, especially the two female ob-gyn's we met, who seemed knowledgeable, dedicated, and capable. They handled 327 cases at the hospital as part of the project so far. These were deliveries, some with complications, some combined with tubal ligation, and includes some medically indicated terminations of pregnancies. This, and the nutrition/birth control training of course. Based on what we have seen and heard, it is clear to me that we have to continue supporting this project. Dr. Arora's future health is an open question, so we should do it a year at a time, and should make continuing support contingent on who takes over from him -- presently unclear. But we will discuss this later. A very positive factor is the person of the Pres of the Board, a Mr. Tandon, a businessman. He is a truly kind and warm guy, who spends a day a week in the hospital and whose business staff does book keeping and administrative work for the hospital. We are both confident that he is honest and dedicated, and he will be an excellent contact when Arora is difficult to reach. We left for return to Varanasi thoroughly impressed. Three years ago, when we went to the hospital for the first time, Dr. Arora didn't know us and there were no preparations made. This time he was expecting us and he made sure the staff was there, that |
board members were there, and this made the meeting a completely different experience. We gained a much better insight into the whole operation. It is a worthy thing.
The next day Mr. Tandon appeared at the hotel with a pack of photographs that were taken of the proceedings the day before, and he insisted that we join him at his monthly Lion's club meeting which was at the hotel. We had the time before going to the train station, so we went along. What we were not prepared for was the spectacular reception we got there. The Lions have been supporting the Hospital, and we were introduced like extraordinary benefactors who make miraculous things happen there... We got more flower garlands, applause, laudatory pronouncements, and we were invited to talk briefly about Shadhika. What was useful here, was to see that there is in fact a serious charitable support process in place. There were a good 40 people in attendance. Tandon seemed to be held in great respect, with everyone greeting him with great deference. After another long train ride we went back to Durgapur, where Banshi, Juthica's younger niece picked us up, took us to her little apartment, and then to the HOPE school where she works. We needed to return to Durgapur, because this was the first day of school after winter vacation. Another pleasant surprise here. Mrs. Mukherjee, the administrator of the school has not been a good communicator and we have had little feedback about the impact or value of our project so far. But when we arrived, we found not only Mukherjee, but again, the President of the HOPE School Board and several members, plus several other administrators from the central office of the school (there are three branches). We were given a tour, and ended at the addition to the building, erected with Shadhika funds, housing the big spinning drum and large loom for which there had been no space in the facility. Next to the door is a large marble plaque set in the wall crediting the Shadhika foundation for the Weaving Room. There were no speeches here, but we did see |
the weaving operation in process and the equipment being used. The Board president, Mr. Achari, has a chemical engineering facility in town and is very well to do. He took us there after the visit for lunch and a meeting. He has a large staff and needs to spend only part time at the plant. He has a retarded son, who is at the HOPE School, and he is totally dedicated to assure the continued support of the school. They have a policy of not turning any applicant away, and constantly have to struggle against government support shortfalls. Here also there is Rotary support and private and corporate donations. We agreed that we will pursue identifying future special projects that meet Shadhika's objectives and make sense for HOPE.
Then back to Calcutta by car. I think I should write a short story on the Indian experience in the back seat of an automobile. Whether in the city or the country, something radical happens to the Indian serene psyche when its physical embodiment gets behind a wheel. They metamorphose into Rambo, using the car as a battering ram against everything else out there -- other cars, throngs of people, buses, trucks, bicycles, rickshahs, 2-wheeled flat carriages for freight, dogs, cows, and potholes. Careful observation netted a conclusion that there are three operative traffic laws. 1. I am here! You: EVAPORATE!!! 2. Other traffic is strictly to be ignored and you are expected to switch and cross lanes, make turns left or right at will. The car that is cut off is alone responsible to fend for itself. and 3. The use of turn signals or hand signals is banned, while use of the horn is mandatory at all times... In any case, somehow we made it... We made contact with Urmi Basu and the next evening we went to see her little school for children of sex workers. And that evening was an incredible experience with profound impact on both of us. The project runs under the umbrella of "Missionaries of the Word" which was started and is run by Brother Xavier, a tall and very skinny South Indian ex-catholic priest. Rather, ex- |
priest -- still catholic. He quit the cloth when the bishop tried to force him to abandon his project of trying to work with a group of prostitutes toward preventing their girl children from naturally entering the trade upon puberty -- normally a foregone conclusion. For the church this was forbidden ground -- the bishop was not able to acknowledge that prostitutes are also human. So Br. Xavier resigned and he now devotes full time effort for the benefit of sex workers' children. He has several programs.
Urmi recently launched one of them, a creche, or "evening-care center" for children, operating from 5 to 9 pm, the prime-time working hours of their moms. The objective is to get the kids out of the tiny hovels that serve as home and "studio" while customers come and go. The creche is in three rooms of a former hindu temple located at the deep end of a narrow lane in the heart of one of the worlds hardest core red light districts, Kalighat, in Calcutta -- of City of Joy fame. Urmi is a small ball of dynamite, articulate, emotional, fiery, and apparently totally committed. Cannot exhaust all detail here -- this is already getting too long. She walked us through several clusters of dolled up girls standing at the opening of a 3-foot wide lane. There were some among them who were no older than 12, I swear. Then into the lane, where on both sides doors and windows opened into 10' x 10' cubices with a bed, and only a curtain for privacy. Men, older women and lots of children everywhere, in the lane, under the beds, in the doorways. At the end of the long lane was the temple, home of New Light, Urmi's project. There are some 25 children, 5 or so under 2 yrs old, in the back room. Two old ayas (formerly working girls themselves) tended to the little ones. Some 10 or 12 over five-year olds were sitting on mats in the middle room with a volunteer teacher coaching them in reading. The 2-4 year olds were moving around between the two rooms, with a paid woman watching them. Urmi feels totally at home here. Everyone greeted her on the way in, all the kids wanted to touch |
her, she hugged them all, sat on the floor and got involved with the procedings seemlessly.
Meanwhile a steady traffic of working girls was coming and leaving, wanting to see Urmi. They were reporting that a kid was sick -- Urmi would see that someone takes her to a doctor. Another was bringing a cup of milk to drop off for her baby in the back room. Another was bringing a 10-yr old child who has no speech to see if there was something that could be done for him. And so on. The thing is, the three rooms are totally bare. Not a stool, not a cupboard... And among the little toddlers I think I found Shadhika's next poster child. Hope the pictures turn out. I will talk to Urmi again to see if I can have another photo session, maybe including that little cherub's mom. Possibly jumping the gun here, I think it is clear that this should be the next Shadhika project. In fact I am inclined to think that if the board thinks otherwise, we will at least furnish the place from our own funds. |
They need a cupboard or two, stools, black board, a fan, a heater, etc. Oh well - we'll see.
Monday evening we go see the computer training school for deaf kids, and there is another possible potential project we heard about and trying to contact. On quite another note, tomorrow evening a Bengali family arrive from DC to look over Banshi as a potential bride for their son, a software engineer for Verizon. Juthica's blood is boiling -- Banshi is being laid out on the auction block for the gawkers to poke and test... Quite a trip -- this. Well, more later. Send us a word if the spirit strikes. I get my regular stanford mail. cheers, peter |