A FRIENDSHIP PROFILE OF A TRIBAL BOY AND A VISUALLY DISABLED PERSON
I started my schooling at my age of 12 years old, away from my village, in my district town. Though I had not learnt alphabet, I was admitted in kg 2. Every body called me Ôclass fatherÕ. In the same year I was promoted to class 1, not because I was brilliant but because the school wanted to adjust my age with my class. The objective of my going to school according to my mother was to learn how to read and write letter, so that I can become village secretary. But sending me to school was like sending a hungry lion inside the sheep cage. I studied very hard. The only problem I faced was paying school fees.
I had an option: pay fees or buy rice. I opted for the later as a result I was disallowed to sit in the class. Desperate. The whole day I sat on a rock near the school, listening to the activities of the school. Then I left for my village. My mum too was facing starvation then. In my village two months of starvation (August and September) was quite normal for all the villagers. A few families eat rice throughout the year. Mum ran from pillar to post and came back with just rupees five. She sold our shawl. I went back to school. After one month the same option resurfaced - pay fees or buy rice. Tough option. This time I opted for the former and went to school with my head held high though empty stomached. In the class I felt very sleepy. The teacher gave stick lashes with warning. I pinched myself hard to keep myself fully awaked. It didnÕt help. I was then taken to the School principal. He gave me lashes with his famous stick on my back, yet I defended my dignity and honor by not telling the reason for my sleepiness. I made sure that nobody knew that I came to school empty stomached.
One more option came before me then - leave for home for good or continue schooling. I knew I had nothing for future, no property as I did not have father. I opted to continue schooling, come what may. I kept myself awaked in the class by filling varieties of leaves from the forest. Everyday I ran to the forest for my lunch during the school recess quietly. That worked.
My school failed to pass even a single student continuously for three years in the Board examination (class 10). The government had warned my school that in the forth year if the school fails to pass even a student, the school will be de-recognized from the board examination. I took the Board exam along with 84 students (four patches). On the day the board examination result was declared, my house was full of teachers and other well-wishers. I was the lone student to pass. A savior to their job and the school. Great feeling indeed. I took just seven years to complete my matriculation. Normal years to complete are 13 years.
After matriculation, again I faced another option Ð to marry and settled down in the village as a teacher or find out my biological father and ask him to sponsor my college. Everybody encouraged me for the later option except my mum and a few hopeful would be father in-laws. I opted for the later.
I began to search for my father. Atlas I found the Office where he works. As I entered inquiring his name to the Office, everybody stared back at me, some even took time to stand and stared as I wore handmade wooden chapels (shoes) which made strange sound walking on the cemented floor. They found my dresses and haircut etc. strange though I had come with my best. I saw my dad for the first time in my life. I was 20 years old then. As I entered his room, he looked at me for a while without any word. He knew instantly who I was as I resemble him so much. Almost cloned. I broke the silent saying Ð ÒI am your sonÓ. Why do you come here? He replied with disappointment in his face. ÒI have passed matriculation, I want to go to college, sponsor me, I replied. His sad face began to beam. Pleasant surprised. Within a couple of hour I looked transformed with new hair cut, new dresses. Costly ones. He is rich and holds important Office. I became the eldest son (a customary heir of a rich father) suddenly.
Dad sent me enough money during my college days. I saved some portion. 50 percent went to my mum, sister and my stepbrother, Mag, with it they went to school. I took up leadership in the college student unionÕs works and transformed my step brothers (DadÕ sons) who were into bad habits through religious camps. Now my dadÕs family is not only rich but good as well. Dad wanted me to complete Master (which he himself could not), come back, get marry and look after his business and administration, as customarily I am his heir.
The year I completed my master, dad came all the way from Manipur to take me. He felt great. He asked me to book two flight tickets. A ticket cost almost Rs. 10,000/-. I booked only one for him and booked a train ticket for me with student and tribal concessions. My train ticket thus cost only Rs. 120/-. He felt upset. Yet he waited at home with royal arrangements to give a surprise welcome party. VIPs from the district were invited. I purchased very cheap second hand clothes (4 huge sacks of clothes) with the money saved and went directly to my mountainous village (my birth place). Distributed all the clothes to the needy tribal. Lots of tears of joy were shed getting unexpected free clothes to cover their shivering bodies in the cold winter. I felt lots of meaning and satisfaction deep down my heart, reaching every part of my nerves. First experience of giving. Such a feeling can be attained when a person does her/himself.
Finally I went to my dadÕs house. There I found life was empty. All VIPs with plastic smiles, formalities, egoistic. Boring. I was not brought up in such an artificial world. I am from typical tribal areas where sharing and love are abundant. Everybody is equal in that part of the world. Dad tried to surprise me with his grand planned plan Ð to marry a rich doctor, built bigger house than the mansion like house he already owned etc. But it hardly surprised me. After two weeks in my dadÕs house I realized that that was not the kind of life I was made to live. Class-conscious people around, poor people begging at dadÕs feet for mercy for various reasons. Most went back disappointed. I had ideological differences with him. We began to argue. I gave my best presentation for which he didnÕt have the answer to defend yet he was not convinced. His heart was different though we resemble a lot by looks. He didnÕt bother to see me for 20 long years despite his riches. That surprised me more than his surprise plan. For him everything should never stop growing both in size and number. A human needs a house to live, a breakfast, two meals a day (one cannot eat more than that) and clothes to protect from cold and hot. Beyond that is what our ego needs. Ego not only destroys us but mankind as a whole. Many exist but donÕt live. Ego rules firmly. Try to satisfy ego ! One will invariably fail. It is more destructive than nuclear warheads. It has destroyed, destroying and will be destroying mankind. Some people have to eat grass to educate and somehow survive due to others ego. Ego smells rotten rat. The greatest enemy to mankind. People exist with it but without it people live. Death is better than just existence. LetÕs live.
Jagdish Chander (Jags). We were together in P.G. MenÕs hostel. I was curious. A 100 percent visually disabled (blind) person-doing M.Phil. How it is possible! I introduced myself to him. After two weeks I greeted him. He replied, hi Joy. Surprised. He recognized and remembered both my name and voice by only once meeting. I then offered myself to read out whenever he needs not only out of compassion but out of respect too. In the class conscious and caste ridden society he then was not so confident. Poor and Blind. I took him to big student meetings and birthday parties. I wanted him to feel that he was great. We became the best of friends. But then I never had the slightest idea that one day he can become a Prof. But he became one. Unthinkable became thinkable.
I had been encouraging my brother Mag to study hard. His father left him too. He passed matriculation from my village. Miracle repeated twice in my village. I wanted to send him to college but I was jobless. Jags knew my disappointment and helplessness. Jags called him to Delhi and let him stay in his house (ashram) and sponsor him. Vicky, JagsÕ niece is another boy he sponsors. Finally I too join the ashram as my father asked me to come home and settled down like prince, perhaps. But my desire is to hold a responsible job and bring changes in the system and bring changes in the lives of unfairly treated souls. I had lived as one of them and I knew these souls need help. Unnecessarily costly food, but no hunger; costly bed but canÕt have sleep; ride in the latest car yet feel wanted; live in doubled walled house yet full of insecurity. WHY? I believe unfairly treated souls haunt.
Prof. Jags is from Rajasthan. He is not a tribal from North-east India. But his true concern began to bear fruit on the tribal. Through him Maya and Pinky (a girl) got sponsorship from Mike and Bonnie (US). Rare thing to happen. Jags to me is a selfless person, pro-poor and a rare soul. He sponsors an ashram of four boys in Delhi. His life teaches us that it is not the amount of bank balance but the amount of heart a person has, which can help the needy. A disabled person helping abled needy world. A person who feels, share and sacrifice his own enumerable needs for the more needy people, who are not even related to him. To understand him requires a little thinking.
He is popular in the dark tribal areas of Manipur. Disabled community in that part gets respect through his testimony.
It is said, Òhonesty is the best policyÓ. To me compassion is equally the best policy.Ó Honesty and compassion are the best policyÓ. I little compassion I had for jags when he was just a poor and blind student got a place in his heart today. The power of compassion for the needy is something to be valued. I personally am grateful to life for bestowing in me a little compassion for others. Something beautiful to be nurtured.
I have brought changes in the lives of 23 families from very poor tribal villages (my birth place) without spending any money! It is possible. We just need the will and heart to do the job. I teach them how to fish. I bring a girl or a boy from these 23 families to Delhi, placed them as servants in my known people for one year. They not only earn but also learn Hindi, then with the money they have earned they are sent for training in beautician or sale boys and girls. Then I teach them basic working spoken English. Finally they work as beautician in parlors or sale persons in shops etc. They now are able to send some money to their families back home which bridge the starvation period and pay school fees for their siblings. Looking after 23 people, as guardian is easier said than done. Lots of responsibility Ð health, job placement, pacifying conflicts they have, and so many more. Sometimes I really feel tired. But there is lots of meaning and satisfaction too in the work knowing fully what I am doing. Now villagers are queuing up to follow the footstep of these 23 people.
In Manipur, non-tribal developed community called Meiteis mans both government and NGOs. Any fund for development of tribal goes through filtration process through this community. As a result the funds stopped in the plain, as the water cannot run up to the mountains from plains. Tribal have given up any hope of help coming from this community. But still hope that they should be free from exploitations by this community. Working as servant is certainly a better option than other options available to them, such as continue to live in the same condition and dying due to malnutrition related diseases or taken up to violence, and other anti-social activities. After about six long years of tribal war between the Nagas and Kukis, the economic situation has gone all the more worst. The saddest sight of all is tribal women for the first time in their culture and lives taking up to prostitution to somehow fill their stomach. The challenge is loud and clear.
As a tribal educated person, without any resources, I have opened this option of servant job. Many more will be coming to work as servant in Delhi. Queue is not only long already but unending. If you feel concern to do something towards the upliftment in this region, we can together indeed do a lot. If I can do this much without any fund, I am sure you can think how much more we can do together with your involvement. I did not believe in any NGOs as benefits hardly reach the needy. But after I meet people like DP, Sandeep Pandey and a few others from Asha I began to feel that there are genuinely concern souls for the needy. THE HARD FACT IS THAT, THIS IS A RARE OPPORTUNITY FOR TRIBAL VOICE TO REACH YOU DIRECTLY WITHOUT ANY MIDDLEMAN (FILTER) IN BETWEEN.
Sincerely Yours.
Telngoh Haokhosei Joy (T.H. Joy)
C-5/ 225, sector Ð 6, Rohini, Delhi Ð 110 085
|
