Kerala Meanderings

Traveling alone in India. I didn’t think I would ever be able to muster up the courage for it. I can’t say I’m feeling completely comfortable with everything just yet, but I think I’m learning the ropes. Kerala, probably the most peaceful and respectable of states, is a good way to ease myself into the solo-India travel mode.

So Rahul and I arrived in Polachi yesterday along with the whole Param-SMILE team. Yesterday was the SMILE Pollachi chapter’s inauguration, followed by a speech by Param at a local university. It was complete family-immersion time, because all the uncles and auntys were having fun there way: singing film/religious songs, endless cups of coffee, days centered around food, drink and temples. Today, while I thought we were going sightseeing to Palani, we ‘happened’ to stop at 2 people’s homes, and 2 different temples within the space of an hour. It was actually pretty funny. After the last temple, I bid farewell to Rahul, sorry to have to leave him to his temple-doom ("why do old people in India like going to temples so much?" he pondered) , I set off.

From Pollachi, I hopped on a bus to Thrissur. It was a beautiful bus journey : endless coconut and balm groves, lush green paddy fields, picturesque thatch homes and tall palm trees juxtaposing a clear blue sky. About an hour till Thrissur, an interesting flyer that a man was reading caught my eye. The ad was to encourage people to take eco-friendly tours while in Kerala. I asked if he could borrow it, and he gave it to me along with a host of other social-change books he had on him. I couldn’t believe my eyes; here was exactly what I was searching for, without even having to make the effort of looking! We got into a conversation, he sat down next to me and started telling me about the handicrafts institute that he runs, along with his position as a Wildlife Park Crime Inspector. I was in awe of how amazing this guy seemed to be. He even had a book full of interesting eco-friendly people contacts, which seemed to prove that he was legit. But then the conversation started taking an uncomfortable turn. He asked me “who else was in my house”. Then, when I started interspersing ‘meetings with friends in Kerala’ to make it seem as though I wasn’t actually traveling alone, he asked if the friend was a boyfriend or girlfriend. Then I told him I was married, and had one child. My replies kept getting curt by the moment, and fewer and farther in between. After saying that he would provide me with a comprehensive list of Kerala tourism info, he looked at me and said, “I will give you so much, what will you give me?” That’s when the red-technicolor light started beeping wildly in my head. I realized that I really had been too friendly to him, I had forgotten that Indian guys aren’t used to unreserved girls at all, so I realized I have to start being as cautious as possible with people, no matter who they are. (The receptionist actually asked me -- and this would happen over and over during my trip -- “why are you traveling alone?” I was tempted to answer rheotorically by saying “aren’t we all?” or, more thoureau-like "do we ask the bumblebee if it is lonely?" but thought better of it ;))

Living in Madras - First Impressions

And now in Chennai..I'm liking it here. Though I used to live here, I'm awed by the 'discoveries' I've been making on the culture here. It's just so different from the north. Yesterday, I walked down the street from my hotel to find a restaurant to eat at. In my long walk, I found one with 'AC' (=upscale). The rest were similar to where I ended up having dinner: shop-front open, potbellied guy asks you what you want, lanky adolescent guy in an illfitting suit brings you a banana leaf, another plonks an assortment of chutneys on the leaf, while another finally brings out the main course, which you eat with your hands. And a meal fit for a king for a grand total of 18 Rs.

I dislike generalizations, but I still feel people here are less pretentious than in the north. Its still a very traditional culture. Most men are in lungis, most women in saris. My apartment search yesterday brought that point squarely home: I was getting antsy at not being able to find anything the first day, but it’s amazing what a little internet searching can find you. I called up this agent whose listing I found on a local website. He was unlike any of the other agents I had talked to: his English was very poor and heavily accented (Smita and Chris would have a field day with my impersonations of his accent :)), and his every third word was punctuated by the ubiquitous "madame". He said he had a few places; to be honest, I had my doubts but I thought, "why not". I was even more surprised when he walked into the lobby of my hotel to find me: barefoot, in a saffron lungi and with orange paste smeared across his forehead, I couldn’t believe that this guy was for real. Surprisingly, he had some good places to show me. But every place we went to, people could not believe – could not believe – that I was for real. "A kid" as one so adeptly put it. All of them stared at me and asked who the apartment was for ("why does she want to take this place alone?" they all whispered in tamil to my saffron-guide. Little did they know that my comprehension of tamil is far better than spoken). And what kind of a company was NABS? Why on earth aren’t there other colleagues -- what kind of a "professional" was I?

I kept my cool, though the final crossexamination (with the landlady of the place I decided to take) did get trying. I felt like I was in some strange 17th century timewarp. I guess I do make for a sketchy package on the whole. The landlady has not-so-subtly made it clear that there should be no partying, no 'strange men'. Hahah..little does she know :) (of course, I'm only *half*kidding;)) When I stammered, "what if my little cousin brother wants to visit from Ahemdabad?" she emphatically stated "you please ask him to stay in hotel wonly."
Ahh, it'll be interesting being here.

Taishan-in-a-Day

My days in China were coming to an end, and I wanted to pack in as much as I could before leaving. Hence, the last-minute Taishan in a Day scramble. The journey was 9 hours, and I figured I would climb the mountain, and get on the night train back to Shanghai in order to be in town on Monday. So I arrived at the Taishan station bright and early, and went to buy my return ticket immediately after I arrived. Obviously, nobody at the station spoke any English. To my horror, I found out that there were apparently no seats left for that night train, and even for the next morning’s train. I started panicking – I needed to get back to Shanghai by Tuesday at the minimum, to catch my flight! And another thing was that I hadn’t breathed a word about this trip to anyone. So I decided that a bus would be at least acceptable an option; of course, there were no buses from Taishan to Shanghai. At that point, panicking, I went back to the window, and figured out from her gesticulations that the only tickets left were ‘standing’ tickets. I bought one, inwardly shit-scared about the prospect of traveling for 11 hours standing, especially after climbing a mountain. Ticket in hand, I thought --well, I guess I’ll climb that mountain when I get to it.

The sleepy town of Taishan is great during the autumn. There were so few tourists around, not even too many Chinese tourists. My guide book said that it takes about 8 hours to go up and down, but since I was leaving that day, and wanted to squeeze in a trip to Qufu if possible, I decided to go for as long as I could without pausing. The first half of the ascent was bizarre: construction workers were literally digging up all the stairs, there were machines and drillers boring unceremoniously everywhere; at times, I had to precariously vault myself over rubble to resume my climb. With my glove over my mouth to shield myself from at least some of the dirt flying through the air, it struck me how ironic my situation was: here I was, attempting to escape the pollution, noise and tumult of Shanghai, only to confront it head-on in this holy mountain oasis. Thankfully, by mid-point (560m) the construction stopped. The last leg up the mountian was undoubtedly the steepest, but afforded some magnificent views: gorgeous calligraphic texts scrawled on the mountain wall; the outlines of the monasteries of top peering majestically atop the jagged rock; trees spraying bursts of color on the slopes. I made it back down -- completely intact, thankfully -- in about 5 hours, which left me time to catch a bus to Qufu, the birthplace of Confucious. The city, about an hour’s drive away, made for a nice rest for my legs. There, I only had time to visit the Kong Mansion. Though the architectural gem had been preserved for more than 2500 years, the government had thought it fit to allow innumerable peddlers and traders inside the compound, which was a bit disappointing. But still, I still enjoyed walking around to experience the sheer division of space within the compound; I always admire this aspect of Chinese architecture. I was pretty tired after this, so got on a bus to Qufu, and decided to spend my last two hours eating/reading in a local restaurant. Obviously, expensive places were around, but I was on my last run of yuan so I decided to go really local. I walked into the restaurant right across from the train station, and immediately said in chinese, “I don’t eat meat. Can I get some dishes with only vegetables?” Immediately, the owner looked at me and said, admonishingly, (in chinese), “We don’t serve huicai here, we only serve han-cai”. I had no idea what he was talking about. I repeated that I didn’t eat meat, and eventually it came out that I was Indian. With a surprised look, he said slowly, “I thought you were from Xinjiang province!” (=non Han-Chinese). He warmed up, made some more small talk, and I was able to order food and sit around. It felt great to have been able to walk into the most local of local places and get what I wanted; at the same time, I couldn’t believe that a) I had been unknowingly discriminated against and b) people from the Xinjiang province face this kind of discrimination.

Huangshan ("Yellow Mountain")

Only two more weekends left in Shanghai. I'd heard about the marvels of Chinese mountains, and decided to head to Huangshan. Having made the decision to leave, I realized that I had abstained from traveling solo in Shanghai because I was afraid I couldn’t handle the language barrier on my own. From buying tickets to getting around in a strange city, the prospect made me nervous. Nonetheless, the next day, with no knowledge of train timetables or how to find train info in English, I set off for the train station. I was able to only get a ticket for the late night train, so Suzhou during the afternoon. Suzhou wasn’t that impressive at all, but it was nice to get out of Shanghai. Boarding the night train to Huangshan, I realized that while I had been able to buy a ticket, it was actually for a 'hard seat' instead of a sleeper. Walking through the train, thinking of the 10 hours on a seat ahead of me in a smoke-filled, sesameseed and spit-stained compartment, acutely aware of the gawking looks of the people around me, I took a deep breath. I was armed with the Da Vinci Code, I could do it.

The youth hostel in Tunxi (where most Huangshan-bound people stay) was a backpackers paradise. It was the product of a rich Shanghainese architect who had money to spend and great ideas. It was clean, very well-designed and had a staff that exuded an incredible aura of peace. I arrived in Tunxi a bit too late to climb the mountain, so decided to visit the nearby city of Shanxi. When I got to the city, which was a small town filled with shops, I was a little disappointed. I was expecting something, yet didn’t feel like I had found it. As I started letting go of my expectations, feeling the place rather than seeking something, talking more with the people on the streets.. barriers broke and I realized that it was wonderful just to be able to communicate, to laugh, to share with the people around me.

The next day, I set off at 6 am for Huangshan. The climb was strenuous, yet the views astounding. Autumn is the perfect time to travel: the air is crisp, not too cold; the spray of autumn colors on the mountain foliage mesmerizing. Most of the other climbers were Chinese, most of them in groups, each wearing either a yellow or red hat, following a tour leader who found it necessary to continually shout through an amplifier though most of their audience was usually less than 10 feet away. Up top, it was noisy, people were taking the oddest of pictures and talking much more loudly than would befit an awesome sight (at least by my standards). Nonetheless, it was more amusing than annoying. Climbing down was another test of living in China: while I was climbing down, all the signs were in Chinese, and I realized that I couldn’t figure out how to climb down since the descent stairs seemed to “climb up”. I freaked out for a while, but waited on the side, caught my breath and tried to forget I was 1500m above the ground and lost. I grasped the word for ‘descent’ (xialu) from the passerbys around me, and began asking around. A friendly guard helped me through my consternation, and of course, I made it :)

Just Kavita

Organization name: Rajiv Gandhi Home for the Handicapped
Area of Focus: Livelihood Training for Women with physical disabilities
Location: Pondicherry

(this profile was written by Pavithra Krishnan)

Even if you’re not particularly into linens, even if the thought of tablecloth shopping has never crossed your mind and you couldn’t care less what the pattern on your hand towels is- pay attention to these pieces please. Each one is exquisitely hand embroidered with themes vibrant and various. Sprays of deep blooming red hibiscus, threaded images of beloved deities, classical bharatnatyam postures, men and women plowing fields, planting paddy, toting bundles of firewood. Straight off you see that each piece tells a story of South India. What you don’t see right away though, is that every stitch carries a courageous tale of strength and inspiration- the story of one woman who fashioned a personal tragedy into a life of beauty and service. So pay attention to these pieces. Please.

Just Kavita

“I was born Kavita Mani. Now I’m just Kavita,” she says this with no pride, no bitterness. It is only after hearing her story that you understand the significance of that journey, a journey from despair to independence, from self-pity to selfhood.

Kavita was the third of seven children, who lost their father when she was only eleven. Four years later she lost the power of her limbs to a rare form of polio. With four younger brothers and sisters at home and no steady source of income for the family, she thought of herself as a terrible burden. Driven out of her home by her own unhappiness Kavita joined a hostel run by missionaries where she learned basic living skills, later she moved to a government run hostel for disadvantaged girls and women. A place where orphans, widows, disabled and destitute women were offered food and shelter. She would spend the next fifteen years of her life at this center.

Battling her own loneliness and loss Kavita looked around at the women around her, “ Many of them were in much worse situations than mine,” she says in her soft Tamil, “I saw them and realized with a sense of shock how blessed I was to have as much as I did. I wanted to help them.” Kavita reached out to these women, and with the warmth and wisdom that come so naturally to her formed friendships here that would last a lifetime. “I met all kinds of people there,” she says, “I don’t know how to explain it but without my being aware I was getting an education.” The women at the hostel all worked different jobs and in an informal way they began to exchange skills in their spare time, each teaching the others what she was best at.

That’s how Kavita learned tailoring, embroidery, doll-making and a host of other handicrafts that would help her in ways she hadn’t even begun to dream of. When she finally had to leave the hostel because of its upper-age limit she was reluctant to return to the dependency of living at home. Instead she applied for a job with a voluntary organization doing export quality handiwork. That same year she found a house for rent, found jobs for four old friends from the hostel with the same company and moved them all in with her. “I wanted to take care of them, “ she says, and this was one way I could do that.” When you ask her if she likes doing embroidery she says very simply, “You must understand this- It saved my life.” Helping Hands Kavita went on to become the organization’s highest paid worker. “I was that fast, and that good“ she says,
“You didn’t notice yesterday when you came to see me that I can’t use my arms, did you?” I can’t lift them for long or hold things up. My hands are fine though, I can move my fingers so there’s no problem. These hands have trained hundreds of girls over the years.”

When Kavita turned 30 she resigned from her job and with the small sum of money painstakingly saved up over the years, along with the money her mother had meant for her marriage she started a small non-profit. “I didn’t want to get married. I wanted to help other girls like me. I didn’t know anything about how to run an organization at that time,” she says, “So even the name was suggested by someone else.” That’s how in 1996 the Rajiv Gandhi Home for the Handicapped came into being. Though named after the charismatic past Prime Minister, the organization is in no way linked to any political party. By the end of the first ten days of its existence Kavita had taken in ten young women and started training them in tailoring and embroidery. Slowly, and largely by word of mouth they built up a small clientele. Today the center houses 30 young women, the youngest is in third standard, the oldest attends a Polytechnic college in Pondicherry. Fifteen of these girls who otherwise would have been dropouts are now pursuing their education. All of them receive rehabilitative life skills training. Funding comes from the local community and a few well-wishers from abroad.

In a gesture of generosity and support three hotels in the city together cover monthly food charges and one even donated an autorickshaw to help transport the girls to school. Over the last eight years the center has educated and trained over 100 women. On an average they stay at the Home for anywhere between one to three years, after this time they are helped to find jobs in other institutes.

There Will Follow Day

“When they come here they’re afraid to even speak out loud, they can’t lift their heads to ask for anything- even their own rights,” says Kavita. It’s hard to imagine the bundle of guilt, grief and shame these girls carry…to grudge yourself every mouthful you eat, to suffer the twin insult of pity and contempt in the loud laments of well-meaning elders, the cruel comments of neighbors and others who unintentionally remind you in subtle and not-so-subtle ways that you will always be a dependent- always be somehow less than a person… “My message to people with disabilities, ‘ says Kavita, “is Stop thinking about how society sees you. It doesn’t matter. What matters is how you see yourself.” No one taught her this piece of wisdom- it is a hard earned truth that this simple woman with her ready smile and quiet composure has lived, day after day, year after year.

When you meet Kavita it’s her smile you see- not the sadness or the suffering. “Troubles follow a person through the day,” she says, “it’s only at night when you fall asleep that you’re freed, but my problem follows me to bed- you see I can’t turn over by myself, I have to wake someone up to help me. It’s been more than twenty five years since I’ve slept through the night.” She says this without self-pity, the point she is making is that, sure there are difficulties but there is no sense of defeat. You can see that sense of confidence and joy shining up at you in the faces of the girls who live at the Home. You can hear it in their voices as they sing for you, a popular Tamil film song with beautifully apt lyrics; ‘Each flower sings the truth of life’s battle. Each dawn says where nightfalls there will follow day. O spirit find it in yourself to- change.’ “You won’t believe this,” says this woman, who has been dubbed the Mother Teresa of Pondicherry, almost shyly, “ But I see myself reflected in these girls. They are slowly beginning to forget, like I have, that they are disabled in any way.”

Dedicated to a Dream

The centre is two months away from moving into a brand-new facility on the edge of Pondicherry. The beautiful, spacious and light-filled facility has been designed to house up to 100 women. It is fitted with an elevator and other disability-friendly features. Kavita isn’t sure where the funds for expansion will come she just knows that the program must grow to fill existing needs. She dreams of being able to strengthen their handiwork market, and to eventually evolve into a self-sustaining organization.

If there is anyone who can make it happen, it is this strong and humble woman who calls herself- Just Kavita.

A Model for Rural India

Organization: Trust for Village Self-Governance
Area of Focus: Comprehensive Rural Development
Location: Kuthambakkam, Chennai district, Tamil Nadu
Email: panchayat@yahoo.com
Website: www.modelvillageindia.org

Born and brought up in Kuthumbakam, a small village outside Chennai, Rangasamy Elango had always dreamed of the world beyond. After excelling in school he subsequently moved to Chennai to pursue a prestigious engineering degree, thus becoming the first person to leave the village for higher education. Soon after graduating, he found a comfortable government job in Chennai, where he married and settled down. Yet throughout his comfortable years in the city, the thought of his poverty-stricken village never left Elango’s mind. The decisive moment, Elango knew, came when the government introduced a new Panchayat scheme in 1996 to promote village self-governance. Though all around him thought he was crazy, he decided to quit his job, move back to the village and contest the elections. Since then, as Panchayat Leader, Elango has transformed the village. His unique income-generation, renewable energy and community projects have not only turned the life of his fellow villagers around, but the village has become a model for villages around the country.

When Elango first became Panchayat President, Kuthumbakkam village resembled most villages across India. The scenario: hand-to-mouth subsistence for many villagers, village highly divided on caste-lines, a large percentage of unemployed young workers, alcoholism and illicit activities, very little infrastructure (thatch huts, no paved roads, lack of running water and electricity) as well as a large degree of social discontent and violence.

Elango’s Vision as Panchayat Leader
a) To eliminate hunger and create a self-reliant, self-sustainable village economy in which all the able-bodied had employment opportunities and people developed pride and confidence in their skills and in the village.

b) To provide resources for locally-made products to be value-added to the highest possible degree within the village so that wealth generated stays with the villagers.

c) To provide a model for the development of the rest of rural India, by creating and demonstrating solutions in his own village.

Elango’s Work

Elango began by establishing infrastructure in the village. The first few years were spent in obtaining government funding, to pave roads, provide water and electricity. Elango also waged a difficult battle to obtain the confidence of the villagers and get them to abstain from illicit and violent activities. Once he had the attention and respect of the villagers, they were mobilized into providing manpower and material resources for the development of the village. Now, 7 years later, water, electricity, roads and drainage systems are in place.

My Visit to Village, December 16th 2004

My first stop in the village was the village primary school. Children nearly fell out of their seats to greet Elango, who has made it a point to address students and give them motivating talks as often as he can. The past few years has seen more and more children attending schools in the village. A government-funded lunch program is also in place. While driving through, the difference between the Panchayat roads and State roads (which cross through the city) was all-too apparent: state roads, supposedly ‘maintained’ by the State, were pothole-ridden, unpaved, and very difficult to navigate. In contrast, the Panchayat roads were all concrete and well-paved.

In contrast to most villages across India, all houses in the village were pucca instead of thatched. The emphasis placed on providing pucca housing structures not only makes for safer and reliable housing for villagers, but also has succeeded in building pride among villagers. They are now more motivated to keep their homes, and even areas outside their homes, clean and well-maintained. Each house also had an enclosed outdoor toilet with an attached bathing area. This has revolutionized sanitation as previously, all villagers used the open fields. Elango has also implemented a government-supported housing scheme to reduce caste barriers. This project provides a system of twin-housing to homeless villagers. We visited one such compound in which an upper-caste Hindu family lived peacefully immediately next door to a dalit (‘untouchable’ caste). Each housing unit was well-equipped which incentivized villagers to participate in this scheme.

We then visited an area with a body of water which Elango is attempting to transform into a park. He is employing villagers to help clean up the area, plant trees and level the land. This is a new project and will probably take a few years.

Elango then took us to a newly-established Community Center, which was a spacious, open hall. It was equipped with a stage, dining hall and a few living areas for visitors. The purpose behind this area was to provide a forum for cultural and leisure activities for the villagers. Such a community space is mostly uncommon in Indian villages. What was most astounding about this center was the fact that it was constructed using only locally-procured, eco-friendly building materials. The structure was made of unburnt brick. Elango engineered the casting, villagers created the bricks from the local earth. They were chosen to be unburnt so as to save fuel. The building was designed by the villlage people (though they had to struggle with the government to allow their design).

We next went to the Technology Resource Center, which was inaugurated on December 14^th 2004. These are the grounds on which Elango’s ground-breaking ideas are incubated. One of the spaces serves as the Panchayat Academy. The recently-launched Academy was started in order to disseminate the lessons from this village to other motivated village leaders. Another space holds a variety of equipment: groundnut dehusking equipment (manually powered); urad dal splitting/dehusking unit (using very little electricity); a steam-powered milk-pasteurizer; 2 oil-generating machines. Not only is each device eco-friendly and labor-intensive (thus utilizing the abundance of labor), but also the ‘waste’ generated will be used in another form. For example, the residue of the oil machines combined with the residue from the dal-dehuskers will be used as cattle feed. He plans to utilize the groundnut husks to produce cakes which can be sold and used as fuel.

The last structure is the site of a ‘laboratory’ where much of the inventing is taking place. In order to save electricity, Elango has fashioned street-lights and domestic-lighting systems, utilizing Philips energy-saving bulbs, which save about 70% of the energy of conventional lights. The casing and material for these bulbs are all locally produced. He hopes to be able to sell these commercially soon. Elango is also creating a manual energy-generating device, which can provide employment as well as reduce energy-consumption. He has also mobilized Women’s Self-Help groups and other villagers to produce jute bags and high-quality herbal soaps, both of which are ideal export material. We saw a large number of these bags which will be exported to Switzerland to be used as wine-bottle bags.

Elango’s Need

a) Funding: Because he is building these potential income-generating activites from the ground-up, Elango is constantly seeking funding. He spends a great deal of time writing proposals, and building an extensive network of people both in India and abroad. The most pressing need of the hour is a metal pressing unit for which he has been able to obtain partial funding but needs to raise the remainder urgently.

b) Volunteers can help in any development activites: from fundraising, to publicity, to strategizing, or helping with developing specific projects.

A Piece of Cloth

Organization name: Goonj

Area of Focus: Urban waste management

Location: Delhi

Website: www.goonj.info

By any definition of the word, Anshu Gupta, award-winning founder of Goonj, is a revolutionary. By transforming simple ideas into nation-wide movements, this Ashoka Fellow has been redefining traditional notions of service. Goonj’s philosophy revolves around a widely-known but seldom-implemented philosophy: one person’s rags can indeed be someone elses riches, especially in the context of India’s gigantic urban-rural divide. With his characteristic humility, Anshu explains the driving force behind his ‘do what you can with what you have, now!’ modus operandi, “Why do we forget that half our country does not need a disaster to be helped? The biggest problem in our country is still food, clothing and shelter. By focussing on clothing, we can solve at least one of the basic issues.”

Vastra-daan is a major program initiated by Goonj to collect, sort and distribute clothing to far-flung needy areas. Vastra-daan today transports over 5000 kilos of clothes per month to many historically neglected areas across the country, with help from 300 volunteers. All types of clothing are accepted, from spaghetti-strapped tops to tattered lungis, for Goonj is able to find an ingenious way to make use of them. Showcasing the variety of bags, rugs, mats and pouches made by donated clothes, Anshu briefed me on the importance of cloth. Cloth, Anshu stressed, is one of the basic necessities for humankind, yet neither NGOs nor the government give it too much importance. “We document the number of people who die of floods and of earthquakes. Yet how often has the government ever counted the numbers who die -- mind you, preventable deaths -- of the cold everyday during Delhi’s winters?”

Without blinking an eye, he continued, “Women need a cloth for five days every month. I have travelled far and wide across India, and the situation is the same. Since it is considered to be pollution, women use the dirtiest cloth in the house. Something that’s been used to clean the floors, the bathrooms. And because it is imperative that the cloth be hidden from the neighbors, the cloth does not ever see the light of day. Furthermore, there are usually 2 or 3 women in a household. They all use the same cloth. And in this context of shame, of extreme health-risks, we often overlook this reality and give them lectures on reproductive health, maternity care. We still have a long way to go, but providing some clean cloth is a good first step.”

One of Goonj’s newest urban-waste recycling projects is School-to-School, a program which has recently won the Changemakers Innovation Award for its excellence. The program involves a partnership between a privileged urban school and a rural school, in which students from the urban school give their rural counterparts school paraphernalia that they would normally have discarded. Schools that wish to participate in the program are given reading material -- printed on one-side used paper -- to distribute to the children. In this way, children are sensitized on issues facing their less-privileged counterparts, and are encouraged to think about the value of their own education, and the value that they in turn can help bring to the lives of children in less-fortunate circumstances.

True to the name of his organization -- Goonj means ‘echo’ in Hindi -- Anshu hopes that the reverberations of his programs will spread not only from school-to-school, but from person to person, state-to-state, across the country, as ‘giving’ becomes not just something that people do in their spare time, but something that becomes a part of people’s very being.

Goonj operates in many states of India, and always welcomes new volunteers. To learn more about Goonj, you can access www.goonj.org.

Service with a SMILE

Organization name: SMILE
Area of Focus: Volunteer Mobilization for Community Development
Location: Chennai
Contact: thesmileworld@yahoo.co.in

It's not unusual to see a SMILE volunteer industriously burnishing a Ganesha temple statue one day, and wielding a water-saving device the next. From temple-cleaning, to canal-clearing, to slum development, SMILE does it all. In the short span of only four years, SMILE, a non-profit based in Chennai, has grown from an initial membership base of 33, to more than 30,000 participants today. Underlying the organization's phenomenal success is a simple, yet lesser-used dictum in the nonprofit world: "SMILE accepts no money and does no fund-raising. All we ask of people is to give of their time and skills."

The inspiration for this philosophy, says Param, the founder of SMILE, comes from a childhood incident with his father, a legendary Tamil filmmaker and producer. One evening, a young Param walked in from school with a bunch of tickets in his hand. The tickets, he was told, were to be sold in order to raise funds for a local charity. Too embarassed to follow his teacher's suggestions to approach his neighbors and friends to buy the tickets, Param approached his father for advice. His father's words would carry through with Param in the many years that followed: "Only give what you have. Give, and give generously, of yourself. What we can give of our time and skills is invaluable compared to money."

This versatility is one of the major reasons for SMILE's immense popularity. There are no monetary or skill requirements to join SMILE; one must only have "the desire to serve." As a result, volunteers come from a wide range of financial backgrounds and age groups, and can dedicate as much time as they would like to the activities. Many ardent volunteers spring from the very places where a SMILE activity has taken place. These people, having benefited from the activity, turn up as volunteers at other activities - and many end up bringing their friends and family along as well. Given the broad reach of its volunteer base, it is not uncommon to hear SMILE being spoken about in a Chennai slum, or in an executive office.

SMILE is also versatile in the range of issues that it takes on. From water-management programs, to temple cleaning activities, to the recent "Auto Drivers Workshop" in which workshops were conducted for more than 10000 city auto drivers, SMILE takes on any issue that is "the need of the hour". As a result of its water-saving program, the city has saved an estimated 100 million liters of water annually. Blood donation camps have succeeded in donating blood to over 3000 people. Clothes donation camps, in which mountains of clothes have been folded, sorted, and packaged, have reached a level of precision. "In two hours we were able to distribute clothes for over 6000 people, with a maximum waiting time of 20 minutes." Till now clothes have been donated to over 100000 people. SMILE's strategy, says Param, is two-pronged: "we focus on meeting the pressing needs of today, and looking after the needs of the future generation."

SMILE's latest endeavor - an educational program for high school children - is aimed at just that. The program, spearheaded by Param and supported by a group of volunteers, will address issues "not typically discussed in schools" such as traffic discipline, the need for energy-saving and basic human values such as respect and tolerance. Indeed, schools have been dogging Param's door to request him to address their students: his charismatic, down-to-earth manner of addressing students has caused his popularity to spread like wildfire amongst the younger generation.

It was only when I accompanied Param to one of these talks that I was able to get a complete sense of just how receptive youngsters were to his discussions. The talk, which was on the relationship between science and Indian mythology, has become hugely popular among parents, teachers and students alike for its emphasis on the knowledge hidden in Indian mythology. Children listened with rapt attention as he discussed the scientific relevance of many 'inventions' that are woven into the Mahabharata and Ramayana. Bristling with ideas by the end of the talk, the youngsters were vying to get their questions answered. In line with the broad-based nature of the discussion, the children fired a range of questions at him. A girl piped, "Sir, I have heard that the world is held up by 4 nagas and one elephant, is that true?", while another requested, "Please explain the scientific significance of the Nataraj." With his characteristic patience and good humor, he fielded the questions easily.

Though I had only accompanied Param, I was tired by the end of the 5-hour session. Yet, with two more meetings to follow, this was just another day for Param. "I miss these kinds of days on freer days. It's tiring, but it's work that I love doing," he chuckled. It's the energy of this humanitarian, visionary and entrepreneur -- along with the tireless efforts of an army of volunteers -- that has succeeded in producing a service mantra that rings well with the times: the first step in beginning to help others, is to help yourself.