Where the Lines Blur…

So this one was going to be a new experience – accompanying a film maker into our project areas in Koderma and in Sundarban (both places I have never been to before) – so I was excited (and that’s an understatement).

The road to Satgawan (Koderma) is long and winding. Sometimes, ours was the only car on the road…in most places my mobile phone had no network.  This route is infamous for the Maoist shootings and killings, I was informed – and somehow, that bit of information added a sense of adventure to the journey. The view, however, was stunning, simply put.  Little villages nestled in the valleys of the Saptarishi hills, greenery wherever you look and freshness in the air – a treat to the eyes and the heart.  

The landscape in Satgawan was breathtaking in some places; you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off the scenery. But in a few seconds it hit me that a more pressing issue was staring at me in my face. Not really the future of the children of these villages, but their present. I was wondering how restricted their view of the sky is from the windows of their thatched huts.

Over the few hours that followed, and the next day, I was to come face to face with a reality well known, but less experienced. Inhabited by tribal communities, some of which are still considered the “untouchables,” I was clearly looking at a section of the population which was in transit…old behavior patterns changing, new challenges being accepted and a child-friendly societal structure developing slowly, but surely.

My next destination was Sundarban – very romanticized in my Bengali heart, I was looking forward to this trip. But I realized there is more to this place than the image we paint in our imaginations – this is an area where life starts from scratch after every natural disaster, where livelihood poses the biggest challenge and where James Cassey’s most famous words “Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink” probably find their truest meaning.

Like a time machine, the villages in Sundarban took me back to childhood, when we walked similar roads to teach children in the village schools. The landscapes had suddenly changed from hilly areas to the typical Bengal villages, with the brick red roads, and the lines of date palm and coconut trees lining the narrow lanes, the ponds and the huts, the fields and the river.  What did not change was the expectant faces of the children, the dreams in their eyes, the mischief in their attitude and the simple questions they ask. Simple questions that we adults have no answers to yet.

For me, the bigger question was – will things ever change? What was I doing here? Barging into strangers’ homes, asking very personal questions – why? Who was I to interfere into their lives? And why would they allow me? Every single time I focused my camera for a shot, I was seeking these answers. This is where the lines blurred for me – was I just doing a job?

A lot of work has happened in these areas since CRY has walked in to support our partner organizations.  There have been marked progresses that could not have been imagined of a few years ago. Today, the children of these villages go to school. Yes, they get their mid-day meals, a lot of ICDS centers do work, a lot of children undergo proper immunization, there are quite a few child labours who are continuing their education while they still work, and some who don’t work at all, some children do avail higher education and there are active children’s groups which work very hard to ensure that children’s rights are protected in their villages, that child marriages do not occur, that children’s voices reach the parents, schools, local governance…and sometimes, the media. There are dutybearers who have been sensitized to the issues, made aware of their roles, there are villages that have become remarkably child friendly, malnourished children are identified and treated accordingly. Schools have teachers and administration dedicated to give the children a better education system; people are working to ensure a more protective environment for the child.  Yes, the scenario is changing.  

But, there is still that little girl who works in the brick kiln to support her family because her father died six months ago – she doesn’t dream of going to school. There is still that teenage boy who says very matter of factly, “how can I think of school when my family has nothing to eat?” You will still cross that twelve year old girl on the road whose head is smeared with vermillion, and that fifteen year old who is nursing her little son or daughter. There are those boys who are as comfortable making clothes on the sewing machine as you are on your laptop, and there are those little children who just come to school because it means that the mid day meal will ensure a plate full of rice and dal to be shared by the entire family at lunch time. There are those little boys and girls who are trafficked every year with the promise of a better future and four square meals a day, there are still those adolescent girls who “entertain” the rich and famous, the people in power, their ‘protectors’.

And it is while I was jotting this down that I realized, that the answers to all my questions lie here. I realize that I choose to bridge the gap between these children and you. I choose to let you know that it is not the perfect setting yet for the children of our country – far from it. I choose to bring you these two different and quite ignored parts of our country, where there are people, who gave up some lustrous careers to make sure that the children of their soil have a safe, healthy and happy childhood. I choose to bring you the hope, that till there are people with such zeal, change is possible.  

And suddenly, the blurred lines come to view – crystal clear.