A couple of days back, I volunteered at the David Sassoon Industrial school, Matunga in Mumbai - for the Green friends activity - an urban gardening project, run by Ashiyana volunteers. I have known from Sachi that it happens through the week, and specially on Sunday many volunteers join hands for more than a year. And yet, it took me really a long time to actually show up as a volunteer on a Sunday morning.

I was unsure who I would find there as co-volunteers as I had not RSVP-ed in advance. I was sure though that I would find Priti Turakhia who has been anchoring this activity. While it is open to volunteers on Sundays 9 am - 12 noon, Priti didi and Neesha Noronha work at the "farm" almost 5 days a week, 1.5 hours each day (in a city like Mumbai, travel itself can be a hassle but Neesha and Priti didi manage to devote time for this all through the year). For any one to take out this much time each week, consistently for a year+ in the city of dreams, is no joke. But if you know Priti didi - the buoyancy with which she holds her efforts, and her deep interest in farming - then her consistent application won't surprise you at all.

Entry to the Home is restricted as it is a Home with boys of all kinds of past. Such a farming initiative is possible only because of the incessant efforts of Project Ashiyana on the back of which Priti didi has convinced the authorities to allow farming on a patch of land. It is around 3000 sq feet on which veggies, greens and fruits are being cultivated for over a year now. Among the volunteers were Priti didi's mom and Ruchika, a newcomer to Mumbai. Around 7-8 boys from the Home joined us in our efforts. These boys are teenagers put in the Home for some or the other reason - either they were abandoned by their families, or orphaned or come from broken/poor families that cannot support them, or they are boys who are committed to this home for a period on 1 - 3 years for committing crimes ranging from theft, murder to sexual offences.


We have a quick circle of introductions wherein Priti didi told us the jobs at hand. So, a few of us chose to fortify the tomato beds with trellis and put hydrogel around the saplings. Another group went to harvest the spinach, carrots and eggplant which were ready. And yet another prepared two small beds to plant moong (a nitrogen-fixer). This was enough work for around 2 hours. For me, it was quite an experience to get my hands dirty doing real, physical work. I remembered Gandhi who, inspired by Leo Tolstoy, has sang paeans for shareer-shram, saying "Do you want your meals for today? Then show me the marks of labour on your hands."
In the end, we rounded up the equipment and put it back in the store room and sat in a circle to have some food. Other volunteers have brought stuff to eat - like Falguni Desai, a lawyer and anchor of Mumbai's Kabir Fest, got home baked cup cakes (more than 2 a piece:)) for all of us, Shaila aunty - Sachi's (child-like) mom brought almond sheera, fruits and Priti didi herself got some sprouts bhel. All of us, including the kids gobbled up all that was on offer. This nashta was followed by a story circle by Sandhya ji, a Math teacher-volunteer regular at the Home, who narrated a story about how every person is good at something and has value to offer to the matrix. The boys missed their lunch to stay a little bit longer so that they could hear Sandhya ji's story. As we parted a little past noon, I felt a little surreal as I heard one of the boys, Rakesh* sum it up saying, "ekdum family jaisa laga - It felt like family."

In most conversations with the boys, Sachi's name keeps getting mentioned. Sachi didi this, Sachi didi that. No doubt, she is the hero to the boys here. More often than not, months roll by to build a rapport with a boy, and then snap! something happens (he escapes / he gets transferred to another Home / he goes back to the world of crime). It is like losing your dear one to a dark abyss. And, like Goenka ji says at the meditation retreat, she starts again. One can glimpse the years of toil Sachi and her ilk have put into this Home for years, relating to each kid, conversation by conversation.

As we sat to eat in the nashta circle, I was witness to the conversations between Shaila aunty and the kids. She had merrily given her smartphone to a few of them so that they could catch up on their dose of games. This apart, over and above the sheera and fruits that she brought for all of us, I noticed that she brought smaller dabbas to give individually to the boys. As I eavesdropped, I realized these were some demands from the previous weeks that the boys had made to her. Like one small dabba had the same almond sheera for a Rehaan* - she had packed his favorite sweet dish for him separately in a smaller box so he can have some more of it later. She also packed a few more goodies for Jamaal* - but he was in a bad mood so she was coaxing some other boy to leave it on Jamaal's bed later in the day.

As we were packing up, I witnessed a moment that would stay with me for a bit. I could hear Shaila aunty softly asking Rakesh*, "(Swear by me) Khaa meri kasam, that you won't do it again." I later found that she had figured from other boys that Rakesh* regularly indulged in (marijuana tablets) contrabands and she was extracting a promise from him. Now, cynics may call this Home a training ground for criminals. If we met these boys in the regular course of our lives, we would view them with mistrust and suspicion. And here is Shaila aunty asking them to swear by her - not to buy abusive material. Ha! a rational/skeptic mind like me sniggered mildly and I thought -- when they get back to their dormitories, will they remember this tender promise? Or will they submit to their deadened habits? More likely the latter. I was clearly ill-equipped to understand what was at work there. But as I saw them converse with aunty, my heart melted a little. I was left thinking - there is probably no one on this planet who will trust these kids on their word, and Shaila aunty was doing just that. Only a mother's heart could offer them this gift. I was filled with hope that a small corner of their sub-conscience would know what a precious gift of trust this was :)

I was driving back home when I recalled Priti didi telling us, it takes time for plants to find their feet. The soil gets softer over seasons, at the pace of the growth of the roots. One needs to till and water. And have infinite faith.

Indeed.
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* Name changed

Posted by Rahul Mehta on Mar 26, 2018 | permalink