IGIA : Window to a staircase: but where does it lead ?

I once heard an American freelance journalist crack jokes about human Birth saying ‘Your birth is a mistake you will spend your whole life correcting’..as an adult I found it amusingly accurate but little did I know that it is indeed the case for several children born in our world ; tiny souls thrust into this physical dimension with no weapon , choice , affection or protection – just the grim reality of facing their own deprived existence and the daily strife of ‘ how do I stay alive today ? ‘.

I met 285 such children tucked away in a small corner of Namma Bengaluru.

In the midst of technological rise and stupendous luxury apartments and movie tickets that cost 1000.00Rs ( gold class) and the best luxury brand showrooms from across the world making way to us , yet , like a beautiful yet mysterious damsel - our city hides a few miniscule secrets of its own. ;-) Could it be the games Mother Universe plays or is it our own doing ? I leave the answering to the philosophers ..…

I am talking about 270 kids and their selfless , brave , unwavering staff of 15.

IGIA - These are Sri Lankan refugee kids. Their country does not protect them , the LTTE has abandoned them and ridden them with visible bullet marks or brutally slaughtered their families in the presence of their innocent minds , India Government has turned a blind eye to them and UN refuses to help as they are caught up with their own games and agendas ….

Innocent , hopeless , hungry , cold and sick – these children (mostly orphans ) do not understand boundaries , laws , nations. They only know there ‘is a small boat and it will get me far away from the raining bullets and incessant torture ‘. Little do they know what world they are walking into—internationally branded ‘Refugees’. Hence begins another phase of struggle in various regions of India , places where these boats happen to breach the sea-boundaries and enter our country.

So what do you do if you are a 2 year old and have typhoid and your nearest surviving relative is in another refugee camp miles away ? who pays for your treatment ? Do you care which country won the war ;)

What do you do if you are an 8 year old and do not know if your parents made it to the surviving boat or not ? are you technically an orphan or orphan-in-waiting? Do you care if India signed the UN –Charter or not ?

What do you do if you are a 16 year old and have no papers or identity claim to back you up for official admissions to anywhere on the planet? What do you do ? Still believe in the so-called law and order of the Nations or their ‘consortiums’ ‘forums’ etc. ?

What is it you do then ??

Let me tell you what they are doing – cooped up in small overstuffed dorms with dilapidated bunker beds , they read their torn donated text books , their make-shift kitchen cum study room serves as an incubation for dreams for there is a small Tv there ! And when they play or go to a small in-house school with limited resources and 3 teachers – they dreammm .. Like you and me they dream of a better Life and better future.They do not know ‘human rights’ ‘fundamental rights’ all that fancy jargon..all they know is that someday it will be allright.

Strangely, I have not yet found that spirit in the private-school spoon-fed expensively-dressed toddlers and teens flaunting cell fones and IPads whose parents spend half of their bourgeouise income in a psychological race to chase them to the top-of-the-tree .

When there is not enough rice to eat or when they do not have enough winter clothes , their enthusiasm and passion to stay alive is all that keeps them going.

When I visited this small establishment with no proper electricity arrangements , drinking water , drainage or even clean rugs—I saw 130 boys , 130 girls and 10 very brave staff-cum-operations-folks staring back at me with a lot of hope in their face, ‘maybe she is the one..maybe they have sent her for us finally’. To my surprise while my heart ached and reached out to their pain , all I could really see , were Smiles. Dreams and hopes of a better tomorrow …and Oh ! there were three old paintings in a small broken shack of an office--take a guess who they were ? 3 of our best national leaders , Mahatma Gandhi amongst them.

When I first visited this place on Jakkur Road ( thanks to Mr and Mrs Prashant , the lovely couple ), I saw there were two dorms , couple of open bathrooms , a kitchen-dining-cum-reading-cum-living hall , a caricature of a small-school and of course ! a million bright dreams all overflowing from these innocent eyes who know not what is ‘nationality’ ‘community’ ‘ political agenda’ ‘ refugee’ ‘ terrorism’ etc. etc.

They just know they are hungry and that they are very cold ….

On the other hand it is ironical that in such a place the Universe also offers possibilities of immense optimism and courage , like Kokila Madam – volunteering and serving in-house since last 14 years ..or the 2 school teachers who have not been paid since the last 8 months .. or the dean who without an iota of expectation fights for these children every day before they wake up and long after they go to bed.

And then of course ! There are the miracles….the spotless anomalies of time and space..like the two boys who manage to go to Polytechnic College and the girl who obtained 72 % in her Matriculation Exams finding hardly 30 mins a day to read her curriculum. The little boy who survived cancer and the small girl who fought typhoid with such little medical intervention ..

So this is IGIA on Jakkur Road : a window to possibilities , would you like to determine what this window opens to ?

I promised to help them and I cannot let them down.
Please lend me a hand.

1. Winter Clothes , rugs , blankets
2. Books , notepads , supplies , stationeries
3. Food Sponsorship…6000.00INR to 10,000.00 INR per day depending on what kind of food you would like to sponsor
4. Education sponsorship ( some of them cleared board – exams and want to study further )
5. Volunteering with their education or helping with teacher’s salaries
6. Buying calendars from them ( 500.00 INR each ) ..Prashant has stock
7. Using your contacts in UN/State Government to get things cracking
8. Using publicity to garner help
9. Just visit and volunteer and brighten up their day J
10. Help them buy water-heaters—winter is here , how can 5 year olds bathe early morning ?
11. Volunteer you car to carry supplies for them
12. Help them get clean drinking water
13. Donate / help in any way you want – there is a lot to be done …


Please get in touch with Prashant at +91-9945244490 for details , he is the wonderful man who has tirelessly worked for this cause despite his busy schedule and hectic day job , for years. Many a times Destiny chuckled at her cruel games- once a child was diagnosed with cancer and once the electricity supply of the entire building went kaput – but come sickness or crisis; Prashant is the one constant factor in their lives , he never gives up on them,never ….

Contact myself as well for further information. joyeeta.das123@gmail.com

5th floor , 5 o clock

I see her often in that corner,

Soft eyes , liquid mouth….quite a stunner.

Lost in thought , she never does see ,

That a window opens as wide as can be.

I see her from my apartment up here,

She comes at 5 o clock and sits right there.

The book is open wide , the pages softly flutter.

She is ever so silent , not a word does she utter.

She looks at the sky and sometimes, the grass,

She never notices the gaping men who pass.

Once or twice I saw her lips tremble ,

Not a smile – just a symbol.

She wipes often a solitary tear,

Then her face is enveloped in fear !

She quickly turns around and around ,

To see did anyone notice – who found ?

She looks so lost , so lonely , such hauntingly beautiful eyes,

She is incapable of deception , cruelty or any lies.

Never reads a word though the book is open in her lap ,

She stares blankly at the children around who play and clap.

She sits in the park on the 5^th bench everyday ,

But she never knows….never , in any way……

She never does look up – she never does see…

That my window opens as wide as can be.

Like a whirlwind in slow motion , she changes my Life…

If only she looked up – she could be my wife.

Trust the tragedy .

What is the meaning of pain if it teaches you nothing ,

What is the value of Joy - not more than a farthing.

No one has grown through sheer laughter

But the world has seen tears making men loftier

It is strange how we undermine the importance of tragedies : big or small.

However comedies are remembered : no matter how short or tall.

The butterfly felt searing pain when out of the pupa it burst,

How else would the caterpillar become pretty in the harsh world it was thrust !

The phoenix felt excruciating pain and possibly cried out loud ,

But once out of the ashes , not afraid of even the darkest cloud .

Trust your bad moments , they are not here to stay ,

But they will teach you something , so you will never stray.

Trust your heartbreaks and the miserable burns ,

How else would you acclimatise to wrong sharp turns ?

Would the silver lining stand apart ,

If the dark cloud did not play a part !

Would the sunshine be as bright ,

If we never ever saw a night !

Would the God above be worshipped and loved as much ,

If the Dark One did not take away all your support and crutch ?

Every thing has a role and purpose to play ,

Hard to believe when it happens : but including the black and the grey.

So learn while it lasts ,

Perhaps its a dying teacher's last class.