MANESH - THE INCOMPLETE STORY!

MANESH  -  THE INCOMPLETE STORY!

After my retirement, I got a chance to work in an NGO working towards betterment of underprivileged children and thus was fortunate to get a chance to give something back to the society in my own small way. I have worked there for a period of over 7 yrs. in various capacities, starting as a teacher, then as Education Manager, Manager – Accounts, Resource Generation Manager, Authorized Signatory, heading the Finance department. But it was during my initial tenure itself that I came across several instances that churned my heart and made me put in my extra bit. I have just left  the place in beginning of this November.

The stories, be it of success, failures or tragedies, are often told through cold statistics and numbers. But transpires behind the actual scene is hardly ever told. I still remember how we were all traumatized by what had happened to one of our child beneficiaries. Ganesh was his name. He was a studious and clever child. When his mother passed away his father remarried. The step mother started ill treating him. When her own child was born she neglected Ganesh. This affected him both emotionally as well as physically. He became seriously ill. He had to be hospitalized. He was suffering from leukemia. His father and his step mother continued to ignore him. The step mother left with her new born baby boy and went to her mother’s house in village. Even the father left him in the hospital to fend for himself. However, our community workers, teachers, Managers and our Managing Trustee lavished on him all the LOVE, CARE and ATTENTION. Help poured in from different quarters. The doctors, the nurses, ward boys and the other hospital staff put in their best efforts to save him. But he was dying. He wished to see his step mother and hug his step brother. One of our community workers, some how manage to get both of them. Finally he died hugging his tiny brother and his last wish being fulfilled, he must have died peacefully. I had thus started here on a very sad note.

 Manesh, who studied in B.M.C.School (his formal school) was not attending our classes as well as those of his formal school for a number of days. He was a clever, punctual and regular student, who hardly ever remained absent. We were worried. One of our community workers informed that she had learnt that he was not well and she also told where he lived. I decided to visit him the next day. The next day I set forth to unfold the following story.

It is Sunday. It is dark and gloomy outside. The thick cloud cover is threatening to break free and pour down any minute. So I hail a taxi. Steering past heavily loaded hand carts and avoiding the careless pedestrians the taxi speeds past the lanes and by – lanes and we reach the main Kalbadevi Main road. I spot the sign board – Vasant Wadi. I signal the driver to halt. Manesh stays in the very first building, I was told. I climb the stairs. All the doors are closed and locked from outside. I notice that all of them are commercial establishments. I move to the next building – Number 413 E. Thank God there are some people living on the ground floor! I enquire. “ No, we do not have any Manesh staying here, not at least in this building,” the lady of the house informs me. “Poore gali me kohi Manesh nahi!” ( There is no Manesh in the whole  lane), shout the street kids in unison. I do not what to do. Just as I about to leave I hear a voice from the room, “Manesh! Apne Kamwale bai ka ladka yaar. Apne upper hi to rehata hai” (Manesh, the son of our maid. Stays right above us.)I need no further confirmation. I climb the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Some times I go overboard in my enthusiasm. I slow down suddenly. Is it the age or the darkness inside the building? I do not know.I have reached the first floor and here too I find only locked doors of commercial firms. I take the steps up – the second floor. To my left is the wide open door of a posh flat.  “Kaun,” a man, standing in the door way, enquires.  As I am about to tell, I hear, ”It’s Sir” I pivot on my toes and see a face of a young boy staring at me from the collapsible door on my right. Why it is Akshay, Manesh’s younger brother. I am relieved. I have reached the right place.

On seeing me Manesh hurriedly spreads a gunny bag and invites me to sit on it. I find the sit offered to me more comfortable than the softest leather sofas that I had ever sat on. I glance around. A feet or less in front of me is the steel cup board and I am certain that if stretch my legs I will bang them against the cup board. ”We keep our clothes in there,” Manesh feeds me with information. On the left a closed door, in the front of which are stacked four or five stainless steel and Aluminum vessels and brass kerosene stove. As my eyes move to the right past the cupboard Manesh’s eyes follow mine. The name plate reads ‘Tec – Med – Devices’ “They are all doctors”  “No they make things which are used by doctors,” Manesh corrects his brother. My eyes move, another foot or so on the right – the journey of eyes abruptly and rudely stopped by another collapsible door, closed and locked. Beyond that door I see piles of drums and barrels, corrugated boxes, box files and what not blocking my view as well as any air that could come inside from the window across. From the half hidden window I see --- It’s raining outside, as though reflecting the melancholy inside. Behind me on the right my eyes settle on the nameplate  

on the closed and locked door. It reads – RAJESH CHEMICAL COMPANY. “It’s Sunday, so the company is closed. You will not get any obnoxious and foul odour today.” Manesh is continuously feeding me with the information. On the left behind me there is another closed door of the office of Mr.Suresh Jain, C.A. I realize that this very corridor of   3 Ft. X 8 Ft., in which I am sitting, is their home and that too just from 10 pm to 10 am on week days – roughly a 12 hour home. Perhaps was a bonus on Sundays for them to have leisurely hours.

Manesh’s mother is back home after completing her morning domestic chores of washing clothes, their own and those of the neighbourhood.I am aware that she works as a maid washing clothes, cleaning utensils, sweeping and cleaning of many homes in the neighbourhood. After a brief introduction, I ask her. How did they come here, to live in this place? And she narrates.

They were happily living in a chawl at Malad. Every thing was just fine then. Her eldest son, Manesh, was doing extremely well in a private ‘Balwadi’ (Kindergarten) school and the youngest, Akshay, had just begun to say ‘Ma’ and ‘Ba’. All was well, until one fine (or dark) morning BMC demolished their unauthorised building and along with it they bulldozed their happy and smooth life. They were made to run from pillar to post. But never got what was promised to them and to others like them - the promised alternate accommodation. There after they were forced to live for a year or two out in the open – out in the wilderness. Manesh became a school drop out. In search of a roof they came here by chance some time in the late 90’s. Now they are allowed to reside here only from late night to the early next morning. They have to vacate the place in the early morning, with their bag and baggage, as soon as the shops / offices on their floor open in the morning around 10 am or sometimes even earlier. They are allowed to return only after the offices close down for the day, around 13.30pm at the earliest. Dinner is cooked after the mother returns from her work and by the time they go to bed it is well past midnight.

“Even when any one of us is ill, there is no place where one can rest”, adds Manesh’s father, who has just come back for lunch. He works as a labourer in a Saree Shop, where he has to display the sarees to the customers and rearrange them and put them back in the respective shelves after the customer has left. “My father is asked by his sheth to clean the toilets,” Akshay informs.  From the tone of his voice it is quite obvious he doesn’t like his father doing such work. “Manesh’s father is asked to do a lot of running around as well, to fetch something or make bill payments,” there is a lump in her voice when the mother says this, “ both my children will study hard and will earn well”. I assure them that they certainly would. I tell them how getting complete education is important, how it would improve the life of their children as well as their life style. They listen to me very intently. I tell them that I was aware about their struggle and what pains they took to get their children admitted in the BMC School. They acknowledge the assistance that they got from our NGO for getting them admitted in the BMC school as well as the benefits the children were enjoying by being with us. Mother says, “ Thanks to you people, Manesh always comes first in his class, all three divisions put together. He is very clever.”  Father says, “Our Akshay is also clever.” “Yes our Akshat too is clever – Clever but mischievous, aren’t you Akshay?” “Yes mother!” The parents tell me how Manesh has been selected the school for the Govt. Scholarship Examination.” “Does the school help him in any other way? Do they provide him with required books for the purpose or give him extra coaching?”, I ask. “No.” Mother adds, “Manesh will manage on his own as he has always done, by taking help from his class mates, borrowing books from them and even seeking help from your teachers.” It is good that not only the parents but also Manesh has realized quite early in his life that obstacles are placed in one's path not to be boggled at but to be surmounted. Manesh tells me that he is fine now and will attend our classes as well as those of his school from tomorrow. I am happy. It's already 2pm. I leave the place. Outside their neighbours, some Mr. & Mrs. Shah (names changed) tell me how they were the ones who helped the family to acquire this place despite objections from others, how they fought ‘tooth and nail’ and assured me they will take care of the family, and allow them to live here as long as they wanted. The family is lucky to have such good helpful people around. I climb down the step as fast as I can, almost running down, skipping a step or two. I am out on the road. it has stopped raining. it is no longer dark and gloomy. The sun is shinning brightly, perhaps significantly assuring me that all is well and that there is always a ray of hope for children like Manesh.. My day is done. I realize I am hungry and have to rush back home for lunch.

Manesh did well at the Govt. Scholarship Examination as well as in his school exams. He had passed his Std.VII. The BMC School was only up to VII. He had to seek admission in some other school. We knew it would not be difficult. His other class mates, who were with us came to us and we got them admitted to some school or the other. We waited for him to approach us. We waited, waited and waited. But he did not come. We came to know that his parents had collected his school leaving certificate as well as that of his brother from the school and had gone away to some distant suburb.

The last year one of the schools in our area, Prabhu Seminary High School, had invited me to a function to felicitate their S.C.C. students as the school results of March. 2012 were 100 %. There I met some of our students (who had completed their VII from BMC School), who were the class mates of Manesh. What has happened to Manesh? Where are you Manesh? Your batch mates - Imran, Azar, Sabia (all non -Maharashrians, who completed their schooling in Marathi Medium) have passed S.S.C in March,2012. Hope you too must have completed your S.S.C. and are continuing with your further studies and hope so does your brother Akshay. Is any other NGO helping you and your brother?

The story goes that it was the Shahs, who used all their influence to have the family evicted from that building. Since I do not know for sure I have changed their names. When and if I come to know that they were responsible I tell them myself how they have been hypocrites all their life.

                                                                                           - VINAY TRILOKEKAR

N.B.
 Should anyone want to send donations to our NGO you can get in touch with me. 
Again if anyone knows about Manesh and he needs any help in his further studies do contact me.