A Start today!

Work you do does make a difference in life; and when it does to other’s life, its worth doing! Sometimes you like your work, but even better is when the work starts liking you. I am proud of myself today; but it has not been like this forever.

It seemed that my nose-ring (like a noose) kept me bound to the house, even after my husband left to work abroad. With two small kids dependent on me, it was criminal for me to sit quietly at home. I would spend most of my time in useless household work, which would still leave me with a feeling so empty and useless. I wanted to do something for my children, myself and my village.

It was then that I heard about the vacancy for the post of ASHAs in the block, and got selected and tagged as “Mridula Kumari” ASHA-Parsa (where I had come as a young bride sometime back). Even after the selection it took me a long time to start my work; for once there was nothing like any training organized for us. We were left to work and learn on our own. During our monthly ASHA meets it was more or less like a political party meeting, where everyone would be there but none would or rather could hear or understand anything, leave alone clear our doubts! There were many more like me in the group who wanted to do something concrete but felt helpless due to lack of knowledge or anyone to help us.

It was 1^st Wednesday of the month that we were called for a meeting at Health Sub-Centre. It was informed by ANM didi (The only one we could turn towards help, but we saw her only once a month) that it would start at about 1 pm but since it was ‘too’ far from my home; I was double-minded and reached late at the venue. There I saw a team of young people who were trying to ‘enact’ how we ‘interact’ with pregnant women and mothers during our meetings with them. I got hooked! The team was from CARE and they were actually going to train us on how to ‘talk to beneficiaries’ coming right to the village.

It has been 4 months now after that first meeting and I have grown into a confident woman from that demure bride who could never even think about talking to her village people about ‘Family Planning’. Initially I had a lot of problems too. My work area included two extremes; one Musahar community (low castes) and Bhumihaar (upper caste) which made it very peculiar for me to work there. Although I didn’t believe much in caste system, the acceptance among the people there for me was very low. I decided to take up the challenge and started identifying the children who needed me the most.

As per growth monitoring charts, we decided to adopt few houses for ongoing counseling sessions. My visits to Musahar community were more than others since I realized that they needed my counseling more. This is where I met Laxmi and her 9 month old Rajesh. Rajesh when weighed came in ‘red line’. It was explained by the AWW that if he was not taken care of, he would be dangerously malnourished. This child as complained by his mother would not take anything other than her own milk. After getting the same reply from her in two visits; I asked her to bring whatever food was available at home. Reluctantly she brought out some cooked rice. I asked her to mix a little salt in it and started feeding the child. Lo and behold, the child started eating. Laxmi was ashamed of her laziness to feed her own child. Today the child is eating all kinds of vegetables, pulses and cereals and recovering well (as per last month’s weighing, he has come into yellow line category) and Laxmi is thankful to me.

Ravish, 4 month old was a feeble child who would never stop crying. The child caught my attention when his mother Archana had refused to get him immunized through ANM in-spite of repeated efforts. They were far too rich for that! I gathered all my courage to go to their house which was famous for its harsh language. After the initial hesitation, I was at ease with myself and started enquiring about breastfeeding practices from the mother. It was surprisingly scary that the child had been fed on bottle milk from 1^st month itself. “We can afford bottle milk, that’s why we are feeding it!” is what I heard from the Mother-in-law. No wonder the child fell ill every 15 days and would never stop crying. Through the picture pamphlets I explained to the mother some ‘easy way’ of breastfeeding the child (I sensed the unwillingness to breastfeed was a reason here). Few signs of proper latching and suckling during breastfeeding were also taught to Archana. The whole concept of breastfeeding was changed from ‘free diet’ to ‘healthy diet’ for the richer class. This simple change in conversation style brought about a behaviour change and helped a mother to breastfeed her child again.

Today I feel the caste doesn’t define anyone’s development, only knowledge does! The continuous weekly follow up by CARE team has made us so efficient that we speak about anything related to mother and child confidently. Our visits to the field have made us gain respect in the communities. On one of the field visits when I heard “Apni ke hamni ke zindagi ke asal main Asha ho gayal baani” (you have actually become ASHA of our lives) from one of the villagers, my heart swelled with pride. I realize that there is still a very long way to go, but here I have made a start! This start can go a long way with http://www.isb.edu/idiya/, can it not?

“The Perfect Match’’: My entry for the Get Published contest

The Idea–

The story unfolds as the narrator gets to the ‘marriageable age’ and her parents start to search for her perfect match. But ‘How is that perfect person to be found’ is the crux of the story. Sitting in a train compartment; the mother-daughter duo talks about love, marriage and responsibilities. It becomes interesting as the mother tells the story of finding her father despite being initially unwilling to marry (just as narrator is now). As the story revolves around the love and marriage of the narrator’s parents, it brings out differences in nature of both the parents. She being a vivacious talkative Army nurse; he a shy Army officer weave a lovely life together despite many hardships. What makes the story special is the fact that the daughter wants to find a groom ‘as good as her father’ and the mother describes ‘how her father became such in 26 years!’ Will she finally find her Perfect match?

  
What Makes This Story ‘Real’ (Optional but recommended) –

It’s a story which derives inspiration from the life of my parents; who are very much unlike each other and yet the ‘Perfect match’. The story brings forth the hard times faced by them during separation as my father performed his duties to the country. The story also throws light on the commonalities and differences between the nature of the mother-daughter duo plus their expectations from their life partner as life takes unexpected turns.

Extract (Optional but recommended-

“I don’t want to get married” said the frustrated young girl finally! She was turning 26 this year and marriage was not on cards yet. It was not that the family had not been trying to find a suitor for her; she had been unwilling from the start. Her mother held a worried look. ”You have already started having gray hairs.” Rolling her eyes, Jasmine exclaimed, “I am not ready for any responsibilities, besides I haven’t found my perfect match yet”. That took her mother into a trance.

“It was a cold morning. She was preparing for her usual morning rounds to the wards. A young boy had been brought in. He had an accident. As she finished bandaging him, she felt two eyes on her. It was not unusual; she was a pretty vivacious Army nurse. Hurrying out of the hospital in the evening, she couldn’t help but notice the same set of eyes on her again. He was a young sikh lad bending over a motocycle pretending to fix it up. He shifted his eyes under her sudden intense gaze.”  

As she brought in two cups of coffee, her mother came out of her reverie. “I don’t think marriage is about finding the perfect match” her mother told her. “But you and Papa are perfect for each other! Aren’t u?” Her mother just smiled.

Endnote: This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

‘’What is Love?’’: My entry for the Get Published contest

The Idea -

The story is about a young girl who had big dreams in her small eyes. Intelligent and born into a supportive family, she does well in studies and life; but loves evades her. Or maybe she evades Love. Deciding to take up a professional course, she joins a college and hostel. Despite coming from a small town from Doaba region of Punjab, she befriends many in the hostel. The narrator is one of her closest associates. Leaving college ends another major part in young Milan’s life. She joins an MNC in Delhi, but ‘he’ is not able to make into the big league and earns only hand to mouth in the same city. The ‘love’ comes to a sad end as she realizes that both have moved apart in life. She prepares for her marriage ahead to ‘a settled guy’ chosen by her parents. Will Love always evade her or will she find it in her new life?  

What Makes This Story ‘Real’–

It’s a story which derives inspiration from my life in hostel during my studies. Late night gossips brought forth a large number of heartaches out in open back then. Life was simple with ‘love in the air’ all through till the time one entered the examination room. Examination of life!  With money and ‘well settled life’ taking over as a priority, Love took a back seat. The story becomes real since it relates to the changing Indian genre we see today who want a little extra in life. The story could be anyone’s, you, me or the girl on the adjacent bed in my hostel room.

Extract (Optional but recommended -

In the darkness of the night, a muffled sob disturbs the silence of the room……She turns and twists on her bed with tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. A soft glow fills the room with moon high in the sky and stars shining on the beautiful night. The garden overlooking her terrace is basked in the silver moonlight with breeze flowing; touching the hearts of two young lovers who are meeting stealthily;   away from the stealing eyes of the world. Somewhere far in the night, distant cries of an Owl are heard with croaks of the toads from the pond adding to the music in the garden.

She suddenly sits up in her bed and looks around. The comfort of the arms of her lover, the warm air from his breath and the hum of his snoring; which kept her always awake is missing today. She starts to cry and thinks back of the golden times of her life…….

“Life cannot be sustained by Love alone”, were her last words to him that evening.

Today the maroon dress lies in one corner of her room, with matching jewelry sets. The hena on her hands has dried but the eyes still seem wet. And she lays back thinking, what Love actually was?     

Endnote: This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

"Saving Durga"

‘Babita! You are going to be a mother soon!’ as these words echoed in me; I felt a sense of fear. It was difficult for a 20 year old to imagine what being a mother was like. I had only been married for 5 months, and already in 4th month of pregnancy. My mother-in law assured that I would always be valued ‘if’ it turned out to be a boy child. (I shuddered at the thought ‘if’ it was otherwise!).

With 10 mouths to feed (my husband had 6 younger sisters and brothers, with parents living with us) and only two hands at work, it was difficult for me to ‘be at home’ during pregnancy. The whole day usually passed working in the fields, to make sure everyone had enough to eat.

As the 8^th month set in, I came to my mother’s home; first child is always born there. It is a small sleepy village in Bikram village called Nagahar. But, it turned out to be a boon for me. Within two days, I had someone to come and ‘see’ me. She was a petite woman, with dark kind eyes. Introducing herself as Malti, ASHA (a volunteer worker) of the village, she started asking me about my pregnancy. A little worried with the details, she convinced me to come to the ‘sub-centre’ next Wednesday. I received an injection which was for ‘saving’ me and my child from infection. As the ‘lady in white’ (she was Kusum, Auxiliary Nurse Midwife) checked me, she asked me to go to the hospital for a complete check up with a doctor as something was ‘not normal’. I brushed aside her remarks as useless.

Malti came again and asked me to atleast ‘prepare’ to deliver at the Primary Health Centre, Bikram where 24x7 delivery facilities were present. We said ‘ok’ to her but decided to do our own.

It was about 2 weeks before 9^th month. In the wee hours of the morning, I had severe pains. My mother tried to ease them out by giving me hot water and going to look for the local dai. Intuitively, I cried out to call Malti also. Till the time everyone arrived, my baby was born. He was dead. As I still screamed in pain, Malti quickly arranged for a transport to reach the hospital. She was scared something might happen to me!

As we (my mother, me and Malti) settled in the auto, I delivered another baby boy. He was also born dead. My body and mind were losing their senses now. Finally we reached the hospital and I was transferred to the Labour room (a room where women deliver). After another 10 minutes, I delivered the third time. The events had horrified me; losing two babies within a span of few hours! I was almost half dead when they placed her in my arms. Seeing her tender face and fragile body, I seemed to forget my pains. I named her ‘Durga’, after the Goddess of strength! Just then, I saw the worried face of Malti as she said, “She is just 1500 grams.”

Malti strictly told my mother ‘not to feed anything other than mother’s milk’ to the baby. As I put her to my breast, she would open her mouth, but was unable to hold my nipple. Perhaps she was too weak even to feed. After few tries at it, I got impatient. I asked my mother to ‘get’ infant milk from ‘outside’. Hearing this, Malti stopped in her track. She asked my mother to bring a clean katori (small round vessel) and a chamach (spoon). She also arranged for some warm water. Then, she asked me to wash my breast with warm water thoroughly. In spite of protests from my mother that ‘I would not start having milk before 3^rd day’ Malti asked me to express my own milk into the katori. She showed me how to hold my breast and express the milk from ‘back to front’. We all were amazed by the amount of milk that collected in that small katori. Malti then asked my mother to sit back comfortably and hold the baby. She then showed her how to feed the baby with katori and chamach.

I saw a fair short lady with a white apron, smile at Malti from a distance as they exchanged knowing glances. We then returned home.

Next day, Malti came again. Enquiring about ‘my’ health, she observed the baby. She checked Durga’s cord and told me not to bathe her till atleast a week. After that she asked me if I was feeding the baby anything other than my own milk. I shook my head whemently and assured her that ‘I was doing just as she had told me to do!’ She had won over me till then. Malti then gave me one of her warmest smiles!

“Who was that lady with the apron in the hospital?” I asked her. “She was Seema didi, staff from CARE, an organization which works on mothers and children. Apart from her other work, she ensures that all the babies born in the hospital are only breastfed and nothing else! She even takes me on task if I don’t ensure that!” laughed Malti.  

As we had returned from the hospital my mother decided to give Durga a bath to ‘make her pure’ on the 3^rd day. I was skeptic about it but my protests fell on deaf ears. As expected I felt Durga to be warmer than usual in the evening. She did not feed well too. Alarmed, I immediately carried her to Malti’s home, who quickly checked the baby’s temperature. She had developed fever. Looking grim, Malti asked me to do ‘Skin to skin care’. She demonstrated the same for me. I had to open the front of my blouse and place the baby between my breasts with only her head and feet covered. Malti then wrapped us together; Durga and me with a cloth. I stayed with her that night. Post mid night the baby began to cry. Malti asked me to put her to my breast and surprisingly she began to feed. Early next morning, Malti again checked her temperature which had come down to normal. It was the scariest night of my life; I did not want to loose her now!

Next day Malti visited me with another kind looking lady. She introduced herself as Sarita, facilitator from CARE. “I met someone else from CARE earlier” I told her. She explained to me that CARE was working ‘at the hospital’ as well as ‘on the field’ which was how the change would result, isn’t it? I nodded.

“Your baby girl is a survivor, but still very weak.” she told me. As she explained me ‘how’ to take care of my baby through ‘skin to skin care’ and breastfeeding, she also invited me to attend a ‘meeting’ at the sub-centre next week.

It was a meeting for all the ASHAs and AWWs (who teaches young children and provides some supplementary food to mothers and children). Even ANM didi (sister) was there, with few more mothers like me. As Sarita didi showed a video on breastfeeding, I started wondering if I was feeding my baby well.  

Just then little Durga started crying. In order to pacify her, I put her to breast. This time I was careful to notice whether she was feeding well or not! I tried to see if the signs of correct latching applied to my little darling. Everyone in the group also gave me encouraging nods. Next, the group discussed about ‘caring for the weak new born’. I felt the meeting was just made for me and my little one. Sarita didi explained that the ‘weaker babies’ needed more care. They should be handled by less people; preferably only by the mother with clean hands. Breastfeeding is also difficult with them and mother needed to work harder at it. “Extra cleanliness, extra warmth and extra breastfeeding are the mantra for the weak new born” she explained. “Sarita didi has only taught me all that I could do for you and your baby” Malti whispered to me. I was filled with so much warmth for didi that I almost cried and said “Are all of you so caring in CARE?”

As the meeting came to an end, Malti took me to ANM didi and asked her to look at Durga. ANM didi checked her pulse and assured me that the baby was doing ‘ok’ but asked me to take care of her as discussed in the meeting.

Today Durga is one month old. Malti weighed her last week and she turned out to be 2600 grams. My baby has got a new lease of life; all thanks to our health system staff and CARE team who made a huge impact on my life and probably is going to make changes into many more lives through their noble ‘two-way’ work!                           

An encounter with TRUTH.........

On that hot summer morning in Amritsar standing on the crowded holy bridge, holding parshad ( a sweet made up of wheat, sugar and ghee) in hands, altogether a different feeling came over me! I felt like a curious teenage girl who needed some answers immediately to steer her life in one direction. As a matter of fact, the bridge was like a bridge of faith for me-faith in my religion, society and myself; and I was crossing it now!

Untill I was in graduation, I wasn’t even sure what the word ‘caste’ even meant. I had grown up in a secular atmosphere which was secure from this dirty politics of Castism. And here I was, standing in one of the most pious of Sikh shrines; asking my Mom “Did our Gurus create Caste along with Sikhism?” ‘No’, immediately came the reply and I almost sighed with relief. The burden of castism did not rest on my community originally at least!

“But, Sikhs also have castes, How did this result then?” I asked. As expected the answer was that Sikhs had emerged from Hindus and the crude age-old system of Castism could not be eradicated from their minds even after conversion. Somehow other issues like idol workship, fasting and other hard core traditions got refined but Manu’s play was still on here. Then came the big question, “what would be your reaction if I marry a Sikh from lower caste?”  Almost immediately, my Mom replies that she would not be happy ofcourse! When I challenge her against the basic connotation of our religion, after an abrupt silence she changes her verdict. “If the boy is well educated and has a good job, we would not mind if you get married to a lower caste Sikh” Mom replied.  ‘What determines your acceptance of the groom from a lower caste or even a groom from other religion for your own daughter? Society?’ Yes, Mom agreed. “Then what exactly is Society?”

She looks at me curiously as I define society as age old beliefs of people becoming a way of life for the newer generation! But are they all to be followed? Who would judge that? Who is there to challenge the rules or norms which hurt? I keep wondering about the helplessness of man in a society as the Shabad (Hymns being sung in a Gurudwara) “SatGur Mera Poora’ (God is Complete) plays in the back drop of the serene place.  

ARMY and CASTE?

What does it take to be in Army? Apart from physical and mental fitness, there is a core value that binds all men in green! The sole aim to serve their homeland; fight for her respect and dignity. This unity in ideas is what makes Army a unique institution. What if the unity we see is only skin deep? What if caste and regionalism raise its ugly head in this perfect world too?

Today Army is afflicted with many problems like dearth of officers, lack of latest equipments and technology upgradation as well as the most feared corrupt officials ‘here and there’. What is still a hidden problem is differentiation of troops by region and caste. The magnitude of the problem is small but it reminds me of the phrase; ‘Elephant passed through the needle but the tail still remained!’ Here the tail of the elephant includes two regiments; Sikhs and Marathas. They still seem to be living in typical manu’s society. SIKH Regiment is purely Jat Sikhs  (Jats being the upper caste) whereas SIKHLI  is the  fusion of all Majhabi sikhs (lower castes of the Sikh community). As a matter of fact, when Sikh religion was born, it had no place for any concept of caste. The very first five men, “Panj Pyaare’ who were decorated as Sikhs belonged to lower caste of Hindus. There was no discrimination against them and they were considered the pious ones!

Coming to the second one, MARATHA LI  Regiment, which is considered to be a pure regiment consists of all upper caste Marathas, whereas MAHAR  is a regiment  of all lower castes! Here again what seems important to notice is that Mahar is the name of the lowest of castes in Maharashtra who have the history of being  ‘wronged’ against.

The recruitment of soldiers (not officers) is done according to their caste in these two regiments. I wonder why this discrimination only in these two regiments when the whole of India suffers from the grunt of Castism? As we hand over  the reins of the country to our young well educated officers, we can never imagine that they would be differentiated in such a menial way! Then why our soldiers? It may be the fact that when Army was constituted,  Britishers allowed the ‘problem of caste’ to continue into the system.  but today,  if Army  insticates the differences due to caste in minds of soldiers, it may be dangerous for the strength of the institution.

The concept of regionalism in Army can still be understood as the warriors from different regions came together to form the great institution. But I still seek the answer to why a difference due to caste exists in a secular arm of the Defence forces even up to this day? Is there anyone to offer that logic to me? Or the answer still remains as hidden as why educated humans still believe in dehumanising caste traditions?

From the cradle!

From were I look,

I see a pretty face,

Full of love and grace,

I see strong hands,

Confident and tall, he stands!

From where I look,

I see no religion,

Nor any lines of division,

I see no caste or race,

Nor of human race, such disgrace!

From where I look,

I see now wars,

Nor any game of powers,

I see no violence,

Nor any shrewd politicians!

I am soaked in ultimate bliss,

Without hate or prejudice,

But  sooner or later,

I will be part of this world,

Lost in its own humdrum!