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.