Children perform- Don't miss!!

This year we would be celebrating the 12 th Bol Jamoore – the Festival of Street Theatre in Kolkata on 15th and 16th of December 2010 . The festival is organized by “Theatre Forum for Child Rights” (TFCR), a forum supported by CRY-Youth wing. The festival aims to generate awareness on various social issues and reach out to public as audience. The entire event facilitates a thinking process in the minds of our children and youth. It brings out the different perspectives of children and youth on today’s situation of deprivation faced by millions of children in India ranging from child labor to extreme poverty, from poor quality education to child trafficking. The platform provides an excellent opportunity for our children and youth to come and perform in front of a large audience to spread the awareness on child rights.

We are looking forward to your participation. Necessary details are as follows:

Dec 15 (Wednesday): Academy of Fine Arts (Open Air), 4- 7 PM

Dec 16 (Thursady): Madhusudan Mancha (Muktangan), 4-7 PM

Anupama
CRY Kolkata

Right to a Family

Being a volunteer of the news track team, the piece of news in the following lines caught my interest stemming from the belief that every child deserves a happy childhood and caring family. It is time that process of adoption becomes transparent, easy, and protects the rights of the child!

Read on…

The Ministry of Women and Child Development has developed an online system where applicants can register and select a child for adoption. The Child Adoption Resource Information and Guidance System(CARINGS), designed by the National Informatics Centre, is to serve as the medium for sharing information about children up for adoption and their photographs. The process will first be implemented for domestic users before its extension to the international users.

Benefits:
• Simpler process which obviates paperwork.
• Interested parents will not have to wait for an inordinate amount of time (Currently it takes a minimum of 6 months to adopt a child).

This move emphasises on the concern for the welfare of the under –eighteens who have not been fortunate to be associated with their biological parents, one of their basic rights.

Reference: The Indian Express, 7th October, 2010

Link: http://www.indianexpress.com/news/adoption-to-become-easier-ministry-to-put-i/693820/


Sushmita Barua
CRY Volunteer

Volunteers being Changemakers

Read this article in Hindu one of the premiere national dailies to find out more about how CRY volunteers like YOU are being changemakers in different parts of the country. some of you might just find your names in print ... :)


http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-nxg/article878961.ece

Not so glad that you were born

This is a story
Not of any girl next door.
She wanted to read
But could study no more.

Alas, poor was her family
Finances were all sore
Dad was idle sans a job
And mom did other houses' chore

Why to teach a girl at all
We don't feel no need for that
All you should is help mom in work
On her face, dad told her flat

Mom wanted her girl to learn
Child to be someone in life
Respect, name, fame to earn
And not just spend her days in strife

But all she had was thorns in store
School was a distant dream to seek
Married she was, a girl she bore
Whose future was no less bleak

And thus the story starts afresh
Not of any girl next door.
She wanted so much to read
But, as they say, she could study no more.

Chirag Jain (IIM-Calcutta)

Pujas- A Happy Time?

Hope all of you enjoyed the Durga Pujas as much as I did...

The Pujas mean different things to different people. While some of us love the pandal hopping and the constant gorging on junk food, others are fond of the family reunions it brings along. While some associate it with sindoor khela on a calm dashami morning, others are reminded of the faint smell of dhoop and shiuli flowers in the air.

To each one of us, however, it means a period of joy and happiness. It is sad then, to think of the thousands of children to whom it means a short respite from a never ending blur of toil and hard work, long hours and empty stomachs. These children are the ones who slog away in the by lanes of Kumartuli all through the year, crafting the idols and presenting them in all their finery, making it a Pujas we'll remember forever. What is worse is that, amidst all the festivity, few of us think of these unfortunate children, stripped of their childhood and innocence.
I urge all of you to spare a few minutes and think of all these children and thank them for the wonderful festival they make it.

The two thought-provoking pictures below capture the contrasting lives of children before and during the Pujas, on two different sides of the same line...

Photo courtesy: telegraphindia.com; unboundether.blogspot.com

Sonam Chamaria
CRY Volunteer

What are you waiting for??

Since 2006, every year, a group of students of Indian Institute of Management- Calcutta (members of INCA) works on social projects in discussion with Volunteer Action team at CRY Kolkata. This year too, around their campus event Mandi, they pushed their boundaries!

In the array of things that were done, a blog competition, ‘The other side of life… Stand up for Child Rights’ was launched on September 23rd, 2010 to know views and experiences on child rights and loop in the entire student community..! Amidst many entries that were received, three very soulful entries were adjudged as the top three, which were written by Chandrasekhar Venugopal, Sachit Handa, and Vaibhav Tiwari! These were put up on the wall of a CRY stall at Mandi.

The following section has these three pieces. Am sure it will find resonance in your heart and will kindle urge and zeal in every one of us to not just feel bad about the situation of children in India but do something about it!

Please do read and share your thoughts as comments or a fresh piece in this blog…

Anupama
CRY, Kolkata

“Chai Sir?”

Beads of sweat trickle down his grimy face as he makes his way through the shoddy marketplace. “Chai sir?” asks the thirteen year old in a squeaky voice as the mechanic in the repair shop impassively picks up a cup of tea from the rack that he has been carrying for the past two years. “Chai sir?” he moves on to the next shop. He has to sell out the six cups of tea in his rack to earn his dinner. He isn’t paid much, but he doesn’t realize the value of money, and knows not how to protest. He continues wearily through the row of shops. He knows every one of them by now…from the outside though. He loves walking past the toy shop, but is careful not to stand there for too long…the owner is not very kind to him. He has been screamed at a number of times. He remembers the first day he came across the toy shop. He got slapped by the owner for putting his hands up on the window and leaving his hand prints all over it. He’s more careful now. He loves all the colorful toys inside and the stuffed toys amuse him, especially the big brown ‘Bhalu’ in the corner. “Chai sir?” he moves on. He likes the cobbler who sits in the corner. The gray haired man is nice to him, and he has a perpetual smile on his face. The boy likes his happy face. “Chai Baba?” he asks. He is the only person the boy addresses this way…he is the only person the boy wants to address this way. The old man smilingly takes a cup of tea from the rack. The boy wishes to strike a conversation but seeing him busy polishing the shoes of an impatient man in a suit and a tie, he moves on. The cobbler isn’t going anywhere, he thinks. He has been working on the exact same spot, every single day for the past two years. “Sir Chai?” he hands out the last two cups of tea and heads back. He’s happy with his work. He was quick today and can afford to amble near the toy shop for a little while before he returns to the tea stall. He doesn’t really want to return, he would be made to wash the dishes . He would rather sit on the sidewalk and watch the cars flash past him. He likes counting the number of red vehicles that go by, although he knows how to count only till ‘six’…the number of cups of tea in his rack. But that doesn’t stop him from counting till six over and over again. After a while he heads back to the tea stall only to get a scolding for being late. He doesn’t regret spending that extra time on the sidewalk though.

He sleeps peacefully. There’s nothing much on his mind. His world is confined only to the tea stall and the shops around it, and not much happens in this world of his. He knows not of politics, knows not of religion, knows not of a better life. He wakes up, neither happy nor sad. He knows the rack awaits him. He feels happy at the thought of crossing the toy shop. He hopes to talk to the cobbler today. With the rack by his side, he sets off.

It’s the usual routine. “Chai sir?” he asks hopefully to his regular customers. He slows down past the toy shop…the new bicycle on the display window catches his eye, and so does the owner who is standing at the door. Scared, the boy hurries away from that place. He can catch a glimpse of the shining bicycle on his way back, and if he’s lucky enough that no rich kid buys it today, he might get a chance to see it tomorrow too . He moves on hoping to catch the cobbler without a customer today. But an unfamiliar sight awaits him. The spot where the cobbler sits is empty. He is surprised and looks around hoping to catch sight of the old man somewhere around. Maybe the municipality folks are giving him trouble again, he thinks. He waits for a few minutes hoping the cobbler would show up, with that familiar comforting smile on his face. But work beckons and he can’t wait any longer. He’s sold only two cups today. The relentless heat neither helps the sales nor does it help his tread along the blistering sidewalk. On his way back he overhears the mechanics from the repair shop talking about something that chills him to his core… about the demise of the old man. The boy is taken aback. He finds a strange feeling of sadness overcoming him. He feels weak at his knees. He doesn’t want to sell tea today. But he has to, or go hungry at night. His cries of “Chai sir?” go faint. He manages to sell the remaining cups of tea and returns to another scolding for being late. He doesn’t seem to care. He can’t seem to get the face of the old man out of his thoughts. He doesn’t sleep peacefully. A lot is on his mind. His small world has changed in a big way.

He knows not of politics, he knows not of religion, he knows not of a better life, but like every other human being, he knows of pain, he knows of loss. He knows of the comfort of a friendly face and craves for companionship. He knows of the joy toys can bring to him, but has never had a chance to feel that joy. But unlike the thirteen year olds who go to schools and get bicycles for their birthday, he knows only of walking barefoot in tattered clothes, selling tea. It is no fault of his of his though … It is the callousness of the society that it fails to realize that like every other human being…he is one too.

Sachit Handa

This piece was chosen as one of the top three entries at the blog competition at the CRY stall at IIM-C's campus event- Mandi.

Trading Memories

Remember those days, when you were walking back home, drenched in the rain, cold and shivering, just waiting for your mother to start giving you the “I told you not to go out and play in the rain during exams” line. What made it all worth it was the way she toweled your hair, shoved you into those warm clothes and gave you a hot cup of chocolate afterwards. Ah! Life was good. And no matter what problems I face in my life in the future I know that I can always go back to those memories and feel warm again. And so can you.

What if you never had those memories? What if you never had a chance to live that life? What if, instead, you were drenched in the rain delivering newspapers early in the morning and came back home, not to change your clothes but to wake up your siblings on the way to your next day job?

We take a lot of things for granted. All the strengths we possess, all the luxuries we enjoy, all the knowledge we make use of and all the support we bank on. But we don’t realize that whatever we assume we have a right over is not accessible by most of the children around us. If you do not agree to the fact that it is “most” of the children then you do not see them, or rather, you choose not to.

I beg you, look not in the malls you flock to, but the roads you travel on to get there; see not the LEVIS or the NIKE’s but the chaat-walas and the dhabas; engage not with the concierges and the DJs, but that drenched newspaper delivery boy and you WILL find them, you WILL see them and you WILL feel for them.

For, if you still don’t feel for them, then you must be willing to let your children go through such circumstances and fend for themselves. You must be willing to trade all those warm memories you had as a child. After, all if you could trade your memories then that poor little child would definitely buy it for a tad of conscience.

So what can you change? What can you do about this? The magic of it all is that- YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING. Open your eyes and choose to see these things. The rest, my friend, will come to you automatically.

Chandrasekhar Venugopal

This piece was chosen as one of the top three entries at the blog competition at the CRY stall at IIM-C's campus event- Mandi.

The Girl With Red Roses..

My work took me to Mumbai many months ago. Few years in the industry had made me agile enough to bargain for an unofficial Friday leave. My boss' nod had made it a 3-day cheap getaway of some sorts. At any rate, it was a welcome break from familiar work and faces. After negotiating the job to satisfaction, I loitered happily an entire August afternoon. I was to meet some friends in the evening at Bandstand. I said "Bandra" to one autowallah and hopped in. On the way, I found myself peeping outside this cheap auto, smiling at a magnificent yellow Porsche Carrera that had stopped beside us at a traffic signal. Cars catch my fancy and my initial reaction was one of sheer wow, luck and happiness. The Porsche was gorgeous but it wasn't stupendous until one of the windows rolled down. One of the occupants was so beautiful that I immediately accepted that both of us were in our respective places. Her co-occupant was, well, an overly, overtly muscled, tattooed, damn-lucky idiot in his early-20s, who decided not to work hard and instead binge on his dad's money (lucky chap was sensible too, for no way with his hard work he would have managed those two muses at one time at that age!). The atmosphere inside the car was nothing short of the extraordinary and I won't describe how. Small-town blokes don’t get to see anything like a Porsche often and to have seen the two ladies - the magnificent marque and that pretty somebody - I immediately developed mild associations with Karl Marx. At least I wanted to argue with those who are rightly called ‘right- minded’ that the Germans shouldn't be allowed to make so opulent cars and then put just two seats inside instead of 4; it would drive the Capitalists' society to doom at double the incumbent rate. A child's voice from the other side of the road broke the silly trajectory of my thoughts. I saw a little girl walk up to me, her face half-covered below bunches of red roses which were neatly tied in small bundles. She walked a few steps closer up to me with unsure, measured steps, but having that infant-like audacity to maintain a prolonged eye contact with the subject. She stood before me with a sullen smile on her face – a street child, 7 yrs old or so, downtrodden, shabby like them street kids, who all look the same. I smiled back at her, and she promptly held out a bunch of red roses to me. It was then that I realized that my affection could cost me. One art that comes handy when you have to stop at long traffic signals (which is often) is looking away in the other direction when someone is choking you with some request. I guess I must be bad at this for I sometimes find myself actually trying to talk my way out of such situations and end up spending money more often than I intend to. I wanted to tell her how the colour of the roses made it practically meaningless for me to help her. As is my wont, I reached out for my camera and clicked her picture while trying to steer clear of the common-place situation. I saw her eying my camera with a fearless curiosity. I held the camera out to her. She was instantly overjoyed to see herself in the picture. The grim curves on her cheeks had stretched into an innocent, conveying smile, and her eyes were a sparkle. I thought it reasonable to spend 10 rupees on roses themselves; after all, they were beautiful and I decided to buy, even if it meant that I would have to leave them behind in the auto. (I couldn’t have carried it to my friend’s surely) I handed over a 20 rupee note, gesturing to her with a subtle, casual wave of hands that she may keep the change. She promptly and neatly tucked the note inside a large front pocket of her t-shirt and took out a crumpled ten-rupee note and held it out towards me. I quietly kept the change, deciding not to vandalize by use of language a fragile moment that was made precious by her intent, if not her sentiment. As if she was not too little herself to be spending a painfully-deprived childhood in having to fend for herself, I saw a lean kid, all of 3 years or thereabouts, hiding behind her frock. She picked him up in a manner of quick habit, hinging his bare, soiled buttocks on her waist and tucking him close. She rushed to a chai shop on the road side. I saw the child rolling itself behind the folds of her arms, trying to reach out to something across the counter with outstretched, tiny hands. Seeing her struggle in the middle of unknown faces left me agitated. I heard the engines crank up and rev again; the signal had opened. The Porsche made the most distinctive rev of pride. The only rev that was compelling enough to reach my heart was that caused by the story that played out right before my eyes. I bent over to look for the girl. As the auto negotiated the corner, I saw this girl feeding milk and bun to her infant belonging. Suddenly, something gave way inside my heart, like a stretched cord of emotions snapping under load. Uninhibited by shame and moved by guilt, I cried briefly. When the tide of emotion subsided, it had forged a bed of anguish inside the heart. The auto had hit the main road and was cutting past other vehicles in a manner that announced urgency when there was none. The Mumbai streets were attractive again: wide roads, big cars, happy families, pretty faces and the chance to while away a cosy evening. Just that all of it did not convey anything greater than themselves. My vision had gotten blurred and I found my eyes staring at my thoughts. My anguish reduced to sorrow, as it always does, as it always must. I wondered about our desires to get "rich" to buy hordes of happiness for ourselves and our people and how it amounted to little more than social-mania unless nurtured the right way. I tried to revisit and understand better the idea of life & existence, happiness & sorrow, and further, the handling and execution of our individual destinies (by God, or whoever). Funny that a 90-second traffic stop was all it took to unhinge my composure completely that day. I wish I could explain how helplessly grim it feels to be inhuman. Many more questions crashed on the silent shores of my mind, many dreams became smaller and a few prayers got added to what is a long list of heartfelt wishes. I looked down at the roses lying in my lap. I plucked the soft petals carefully in a small pile. Separating myself free of earthbound particulars, I looked up at the sky and after a prolonged consideration at the meaning of my action, I flung them towards the evening sky. The breeze gladly whipped them into furious motion. I saw the ruby petals whirling behind me gaily. They looked more beautiful in their individual flights, and somewhere inside I too felt liberated.

Vaibhav Tiwari

This piece was chosen as one of the top three entries at the blog competition at the CRY stall at IIM-C's campus event- Mandi.

Your Opinion Matters

CRY Volunteer Action has come up with an information bulletin -POV: Views You can Use on the Mid-day Meal Scheme (MDMS) in India.
As part of this program, we invite readers to voice your opinion on 'Should children have a say in deciding the menu for mid day meals served in schools'. The poll will be shared with the National Commission for Protection of Child Rights (NCPCR).
Make a difference. Do your bit for child rights today. Click here. Cast your vote.

Sonam Chamaria

CRY volunteer

The Rights' Way

Have you ever wanted to help others but didn't know how to? Do you have the passion to help the cause of child rights? Do you have the willingness to devote your time and effort to it? Do you want to do your bit for the society?
Here's your chance to prove yourself. Be a CRY volunteer. Pledge yourself to the cause of child rights. Help those in need.
It's easy. With a little time and effort, you can not only help in implementation of equal rights and universal education for children, but also prove your worth to your country.

Our volunteer book captures the work done by CRY East volunteers over the past one year. Hope reading it inspires you to join the cause.

For access to the document, click below:
The Rights' Way

A sneak peek at the cover page:

CRY East Blogging Team.

Midday Meals: A Long Way to Go

Despite the numerous promises and provisions, the Midday Meal program remains a non-starter. According to an article in the Telegraph, only 128 of the 1134 primary schools (a little over 10 per cent) of the Kolkata Primary School Council have cooked midday meals. Is this how it was expected to turn out, seven years after its implementation?

The startling news is that it is not the implementation of the MDM that poses the direct problem. Rather, it is the high dropout rate emerging from it that forms the crux of the problem. In the face of non-availability of meals in the schools, the children from socio-economically strata of the society have no choice but to turn to child labour in order to survive. As expected, studies reveal that girls’ school participation has been found to be 15 per cent higher in schools that provide MDM than in those that do not.

It is a classic case of a vicious circle where the non implementation of the MDM leads to depleting number of students in the schools which in turn leads to shutting down of these schools thereby bringing about the complete failure of the government’s ‘education for all’ plan.

A recent study by the Pratichi (India) Trust notes that more than two-thirds of primary schools in calcutta remain uncovered. In the words of the government officials themselves, Calcutta is a “laggard” district with MDM lacking in almost 70 per cent of its schools.

The few schools that do provide the meals do not provide nutritious and healthy food. The problem has its roots in rented school sites with limited space for cooking, rising costs of essential commodities, absence of community participation and delay in fund release from the Centre.

If the government has any hopes of overhauling the state of education in the country, its time they realize that only the successful implementation of the MDM scheme can bring about this much needed change.

For the original article, see the story in media:

Midday Meal Maladies

Sonam Chamaria

CRY Volunteer

A hope to bring a positive change

This is first post from our group; we are a bunch of students at IIT Kharagpur working as CRY Volunteers. We started in March 2010. It feels really good to join an internationally renowned NGO. We find articles on its achievements in national dailies regularly; we see people talking about CRY; these entire factors invite one to join this great NGO. Our induction session infused the vigor required to carry it forward. We started chalking out our plans. We have students from various fields like science, engineering, MBA and Law in our team. The mixed group helped us find ‘unity in diversity’. We decided to work upon issues related to Mid-Day Meal, BPL card and for making our campus disabled friendly.

After long sessions of discussions, we stated for our surveys with a set format of questionnaire with us. We had a feeling to changing the world with blow of our society. We thought of educating people with the huge fundas (an IITKGP slang for information) gained (during our discussion sessions) and all the possible schemes run by the state and the central government. To our surprise most of the schemes were already known to the villagers. We were amazed for a while. Within a span of time, we realized that our government has really got great plans for the upliftment of the society and especially for the unprivileged children. Unfortunately it was the implementation where all the problems were. We found that the political influence is the major cause for the people being deprived from their rights. In Mirpur village, people were aware of the BPL card and they even had applied for the card but were still waiting for a response from the authorities. In parallel our team was working for mid-day meal project in same village in Mirpur Adivasi Primary School. We got a chance to talk with the Principal of the school and catalyzed the Mid-Day Meal process there. Finally after five months this school has started receiving grant for mid-day meal from the government. Now we really appreciate the proverb, ‘nothing succeeds like success.’ Mid-day meal has not only benefited the children going to Mirpur Adivasi Primary School, but also motivated our group to work with more enthusiasm and devotion. We are looking forward to replicate the same in the other schools in the area where it has not started yet. We hope to put in constant efforts to bring a positive change in the society we live.


The Mirpur story in the media

CRY IIT Kharagpur

Volunteer Chapter

A Larger Heart than Mine

This happened around a month back. It was my cousin’s wedding and I was on my way to the destination. Dressed in all our finery, me, my mother and sisters were busy talking among ourselves and were thoroughly enjoying our little trip in our comfortable air-conditioned car.

When we reached the crossing at Park Street, there was, as usual, a traffic jam, and so we had to stop there for a while. It was then that a small child of around 10, selling luxuriant bunches of roses, began tapping at our window. Now, anyone living in Calcutta knows what I am talking about- you see these children at most busy crossings, trying their best to sell you something in order to eke out a living. We were too busy to notice him in the beginning… He, however, did not rest until he’d drawn our attention towards himself.

We saw that the flowers he was selling were really fresh but it was sad that my dad being in another car, we had absolutely no money on ourselves. My mother thus rolled down her window, looked at the boy and told him that despite admiring the flowers a lot, she wouldn’t be able to buy them and thus, he shouldn’t be wasting his time on us. The boy refused to budge and thrust a bunch in through the window. My mother returned the bunch, repeating we had no money and suggesting that maybe if he approached another car, he might manage to sell one.

The child then did something that touched each one of us in a way very few things do. As the traffic lights turned green, he thrust the bunch into my mother’s hand, asking her to keep it, for free, saying just one simple sentence- “Rakh lijiye. Aapko achha laga na?”. Not listening to our protests, the child walked away, leaving the bunch with us.

This got us all thinking…How much time do we all spend haggling with the grocery store owner, the sabjiwallahs, the fruit sellers or even other street vendors, for as little as five or ten bucks? And here was this little boy, with hardly any money in his pocket who had just humbled us all by giving us a whole bunch of roses simply because my mother had liked them… This, despite him knowing how much he could have earned had he sold the bunch to someone else…

My heart reaches out to him, and so many others like him, who, by their simple deeds, not only touch hearts, but also prove to be more educated than all of us “educated” ones… and who have larger hearts than we do…

Sonam Chamaria

CRY volunteer

Rabindra Sadan's Bijoy

Before starting anything I would like to say something. All the information provided was collected by me during the period of May – July when I was on vacation in Kolkata doing my internship at CRY. Every day when I used to go for internship I had to get down at Rabindra Sadan and walk half a kilometre to Rabindra Sadan. While walking on the pavement I saw a child about 5 years of age begging while sitting on his mother’s lap. I noticed it about for a fortnight and then unable to control myself interacted with them.
In the meantime I regularly gave him some monetary help but I doubt that really helped their living. The mother and the child were well accustomed with my face because I generally used to pass by that place at the same time. But when they saw no monetary help came from my side and instead I sat down, they were a bit offended. The mom said, “You also came to take some photographs and write something about me and then publish it anywhere. Are we things to be played with or display items kept for window shopping?” I said in a quiet manner, “The person whom I am helping every day, I have come to be friends with them”. Saying this I handed a cake to the child and asked his name. In reply he said his name was “Bijoy” which means victory. But he never knew his name had a great irony hidden. A broad smile came on the child’s face. I was really pleased to see this. Then the first thing I said was that where do they stay all through the night. The mom promptly replied they live just inside of the Rabindra Sadan Mancha behind the staircase, and during the rains they had to shift in the Nandan Theatre ground. It was really a shocking reply for me. After sleeping on a cosy bed and getting every luxury of my life at my fingertips it was really a very bad dream to me when I thought their way of living!
I then asked them what they have in the whole day. The mom started shedding her tears and pointed to a “muriwala”, and then says she remained starved most of the days but she ensures that her child gets atleast something to eat. The mom buys “muri” from that person and somedays when the “muriwala” earns a good amount of revenue gives them some amount of free “muri” which the mom eats. The food that the child eats does not amount to 1230 kcalories.
And it was really foolish of me to ask that whether the child goes to any school or not. The mom said that the child might not know even the meaning of school and it was pretty natural. After this interaction I went away giving a packet of biscuit to the child. The child seemed to be happier but the mom who showed her management skills and kept the packet aside for the latter part of the day.

Debangshu Dinda
CRY Intern
KIIT Law School

Experince during a movie shoot on inclusive education

It is not an every day opportunity that you get to experience getting permission from a school to shoot them. I was one of the lucky few to get a first hand experience of taking permission and shooting the school without any inhibitions from their part. I am grateful to Patha Bhavan School for their cooperation with me.

One interaction can leave a deep mark with its simple message. At the school when I was shooting the kids, I could see the inclusiveness among all of them. The fact that I had to shift them from one place to another for the shoot was well coordinated and cooperated among the students to be interviewed with Rashmi (100% blind studies in a mainstream school).

They were not ‘helping’ her out, but simply holding each others hand and walking as any of us would with our friends! It was wonderful to know the very words of a teacher who is not a special educator but is a constant guide to Rashmi as any other student in the class. These particular words “she is like any other student for me” reverberates in my mind whenever I wonder why doesn’t everyone think and feel the same. I saw inclusive education in front of my eyes and wondered why do we have to talk about it and mobilise it? Isn’t it something very normal?

Soon, I realized it is not an obvious fact because most talk about the need for special schools. I believe the movie on Inclusive Education on behalf of the Campaigners for Inclusion will help people think otherwise and build a strong and effective public opinion.

Shooting Shampa di and Rashmila was sheer fun because they were like family members whom you just go and say what you need and they follow it up.

Kinshuk’s shoot was a part of the awareness program arranged by Sruti DisAbility Rights Centre where volunteers, teachers, disabled people shared their views. Both Rashmi and Kinshuk were present at the program and their precise yet simple words were enough to enrich one.

It is always true that when you know about one’s experiences, it tends to make a greater impact than theoretically reading up issues. When Kinshuk spoke about his life at a mainstream school and how it’s only because of the inclusiveness that he is a successful web designer today, I got a push. A push to spread the message to everyone and tell them- come ahead, broaden your mind, we are one!

Payal Sen

CRY Intern

Experince during a movie shoot on inclusive education

It is not an every day opportunity that you get to experience getting permission from a school to shoot them. I was one of the lucky few to get a first hand experience of taking permission and shooting the school without any inhibitions from their part. I am grateful to Patha Bhavan School for their cooperation with me.

One interaction can leave a deep mark with its simple message. At the school when I was shooting the kids, I could see the inclusiveness among all of them. The fact that I had to shift them from one place to another for the shoot was well coordinated and cooperated among the students to be interviewed with Rashmi (100% blind studies in a mainstream school).

They were not ‘helping’ her out, but simply holding each others hand and walking as any of us would with our friends! It was wonderful to know the very words of a teacher who is not a special educator but is a constant guide to Rashmi as any other student in the class. These particular words “she is like any other student for me” reverberates in my mind whenever I wonder why doesn’t everyone think and feel the same. I saw inclusive education in front of my eyes and wondered why do we have to talk about it and mobilise it? Isn’t it something very normal?

Soon, I realized it is not an obvious fact because most talk about the need for special schools. I believe the movie on Inclusive Education on behalf of the Campaigners for Inclusion will help people think otherwise and build a strong and effective public opinion.

Shooting Shampa di and Rashmila was sheer fun because they were like family members whom you just go and say what you need and they follow it up.

Kinshuk’s shoot was a part of the awareness program arranged by Sruti DisAbility Rights Centre where volunteers, teachers, disabled people shared their views. Both Rashmi and Kinshuk were present at the program and their precise yet simple words were enough to enrich one.

It is always true that when you know about one’s experiences, it tends to make a greater impact than theoretically reading up issues. When Kinshuk spoke about his life at a mainstream school and how it’s only because of the inclusiveness that he is a successful web designer today, I got a push. A push to spread the message to everyone and tell them- come ahead, broaden your mind, we are one!

Payal Sen

CRY Intern