Have conscience, will serve

Parvin Bano doesn’t miss the littlest detail when she opens up to volunteers on her newborn’s health and her own diet. After all, she is indebted to them for her and her fourth-born’s wellbeing. The 21-year-old was persuaded by the health volunteers of a non-profit organisation, SNEHA (Society for nutrition, education, and health action), to get herself registered — for the first time — at a hospital for her delivery. There was a lot riding on this pregnancy.

“The first child died of tumour six months after birth and the second was a stillborn. The third was born weak and left me bedridden with a terrible weakness,” explains Bano.

Because she had chosen to have her previous three deliveries at home, Bano gave most of the crucial pre- and post-natal medication a miss. “This time, the child was vaccinated against tuberculosis and polio, as well as received medicines for cold-related ailments — ones that her previous babies were not given. We have also advised her on the diet she should follow for her own health,” says Anjana Pol, community officer of SNEHA.
Pol and other volunteers who keep tabs on mothers and their newborns’ nutrition are guided by policies and procedures designed by Priya Agrawal, a senior advisor in the child health and nutrition department of SNEHA, and the rest of the team.

The road less taken
When Agrawal decided to quit her job as an accounting head at a top communications firm in 2000 to join the social development sector, most people thought she had flipped. “The idea of giving something back to society was a lot more satisfying than just selling products. That is why I decided to join SNEHA. You feel you are contributing towards the country’s development in a way,” explains the former advertising department head, who now draws a salary of Rs70,000 per month, which, she says, is about 60% less than what her peers in the corporate sector earn.

Agrawal isn’t alone in the ‘anomaly club’. Anubha Sharma and Beena Advani jointly run Angel Xpress — launched this year — which helps children from slums, between the age of six and 16, pursue their education. Nikita Ketkar’s Masoom provides assistance to night-school students. Vinita Singh’s organisation, ‘We the People’, gives training on “how to be a good citizen” by knowing the Constitution as well as their rights, responsibilities and the means to enjoy them. 

Advani’s disillusionment with the education system prompted her to shut her preschool franchise, EuroKids, which fetched her over Rs1 lakh a month. “Preschools had begun to get more and more commercialised. The joy of teaching had gone away. That is when I decided to shut it.”

For her colleague, Sharma, the moment of epiphany was a drive for children from slums she participated in during her sabbatical from her job as vice-president of Edelweiss. She had much more at stake — her pay was over three times than Beena’s. “I saw [during the drive] that they did not have proper clothes and a call for help created tremendous response. Now, I want to continue with this work. The idea is to impart knowledge to the children and to inspire them to lead better lives. There is so much that can be done for the poor by merely channelising charity in the right direction,” says Sharma, who holds an MA in economics and funds all of Angel Xpress’s activities through her savings, together with Beena.

Ditto the case with Singh, who left her job that paid Rs1 lakh 12 years ago to “be among the people”. “I realised there were so many things that were made available to people through government schemes, but they did not know about them. The reason was government’s failure to reach out to them. Today, marginalised people do not even know that their rights are or that there are ways to fight it out to get them. During our citizenship programmes, we teach people how to effectively work the complaint and protest mechanism,” says the postgraduate from the London School of Economics.

The perks of a government job — a home and a car — Ketkar enjoyed began to niggle her mind when she saw the less privileged trying to better their lives through education. “My salary was not much. I was moved by the perseverance some showed towards education. Despite working as a domestic help or doing odd jobs all day, they studied in the night. I used to crash out after a day’s work,” recalls Ketkar, who started Masoom in 2006.

Winds of change
Kajal Singh, a 10-year-old, loves the personal attention she gets at the classes at the Bandra Bandstand promenade every evening, barring the weekends. Food, an added attraction that Angel Xpress provides, coupled with fresh air draws 60 students, aged seven to 16, every day.  

Salil Kale, 27, who goes to a night school , feels obligated to Masoom for teaching him ‘learning tricks’ and for providing career guidance. Story books which the organisation provides do not have more than a few lines on a page. This has helped Kale improve his reading abilities. “As a ward sweeper at the KEM Hospital, I had to run around when a patient’s family told me that a bed had to be shifted. I would often go to the wrong one, as I could not read the papers. Now that I can read, the running around has stopped. I am a little more confident. Learning tables and reading books written in a simple language have helped me greatly.

Earlier, I used to mess up even additions and subtractions,” says Kale, who is aiming to clear Class X examinations to be promoted to the post of a ward assistant.

To make the learning experience richer, both Angel Xpress and Masoom include the arts — drama and dance — and yoga to get to their target group. ‘We the People’ organises ‘nagrik nukkad’, which asks people to share their problems, and helps them understand their rights and the means provided in the Constitution through which they can get them.

Kalpana Kadam is proof that ‘We the People’ has its heart in the right place.  After attending various citizenship programmes, she won a fight with her ration shop owner who charged inflated rates for commodities. “Earlier, I was apathetic to my neighbours’ complaints against him for charging extra for kerosene. One day, he insisted that I buy wheat of poor quality if I wanted kerosene.”

That was the last straw. “I attended [We the People’s] workshops and understood that there are ways through which we can fight,” says Kadam. After filing several RTI applications and holdings protests at the central rationing controller’s office, Kadam beat the corrupt system. “Earlier, we felt that that we were nobodies and that no one would listen to us. Now, that feeling is gone,” she beams.