Tag Archives: Ahmedabad

THE TOILET GARDEN/GANDHI’S DREAM

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“It is health that is wealth not pieces of gold and silver.”-Gandhi

I wrote this four years ago but noticed that it was not published and had “disappeared”. For those that haven’t seen it before, it was this visit that inspired us to come back and work at Manav Sadhna.

More people in India have cell phones than toilets. The Toilet Garden was listed as #61 in the guidebook “101 Things to Do in Ahmedabad “, under the heading “Flushing Diversions“. Yes, there is one, I am not joking.  During our family visit to Delhi we didn’t have time to visit the Toilet Museum so we thought we would make up for this lapse.

It is located inside the Environmental Sanitation Institute compound on the grounds of Gandhi’s former ashram. Founded in 1955 by Ishwarbai Patel, better known as “Mr. Toilet”, there are thirteen varieties of toilets displayed in a lovely garden.

Gandhi was horrified that one caste of people, the Harijans, formerly known as the “Untouchables”, were responsible for going around to the villages and collecting the waste. “Mr Toilet” distributed more than 30,000 toilets, and now 55% of the population have sanitary facilities , up from the previous low number of 8%. The garden was built in honor of this great accomplishment.

Gerald, of course posed in front of the “VIP TOILET” as well as one of the squatters.  I joked that it would be nice to have a  cafe with toilets as seats, and sure enough there was one. We sat down, had a chai, and used our toilet paper as napkins.

A figure of Gandhi was carved into a tree stump nearby and we went next door to visit his Ashram.

Manav Sadhna, an NGO that works with improving the lives of women and children in the neighboring slums has its headquarters here. Forty thousand women scrounge for garbage to sell to recyclers and these women play a vital role in the sanitation of Ahmedabad. This center is a safe haven for children to learn a skill, get basic health care and experience love and compassion. There are also various programs for the elderly,computer training , recycling and finance.  More than 9,000 people in the community are served.

What started as a lark, ended up as a fascinating and informative look at another side of India..

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How Uber Almost Saved My Life /Ahmedabad Revisited

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Uber in India?! Well, sort of. On hearing that Uber had come to Ahmedabad we were ecstatic. One of our greatest challenges staying here two years ago was dealing with transportation issues. Now we could go anywhere in the city, explore new restaurants and be more social.

Traveling by rickshaw is at best a frustrating experience. First the haggling about the price, then the invariable blank stares when you give the destination, and last but not least, the blasting of diesel fumes in your face. Our 95 rated face masks were packed and ready for use, but now we wouldn’t need them. Maybe.

Our second challenge was going anywhere on foot. Crossing the road in India can be a life altering if not life ending, experience. Anyone who has been to Asia knows what I’m talking about. Lanes as well as travel directions are a mere suggestion. Cars, rickshaws, motor scooters, pedestrians and livestock “share” the road. LOOKING RIGHT, LOOKING LEFT (they drive on the right side of the road) WATCH OUT for the speeding moto driver, RUN QUICKLY between the rickshaws, WAIT, that car is going in the wrong direction. I was so freaked out last visit that we only went to the Foundation and back and then stayed holed up in our hotel room.

This time we felt confident that with Uber we could go anywhere cheaply and with ease in a nice air conditioned vehicle. We realized that in India it would not be the same as in the USA or Europe. Nonetheless our expectations were perhaps unrealistically high. Most drivers back home drive part time, in India it is a full time job. In 1993 there were 3,000 cars in Ahmedabad, today there are 300,000. Some drivers own their own cars, others work for fleets. Those that drive for others earn about $150 a month, those who own their own cars can make up to $1800 a month, minus the 20% Uber fee.

 

It will be your best friend.

This was confirmed by a young Indian woman we met at our first airbnb.

After being happily settled in our modern hotel room we were ready to go out for dinner at Tinello, an Italian restaurant at the Hyatt Regency. Not that I don’t love Indian food, but after three weeks I wanted something different.

I opened up my Uber app and it connected me immediately with three drivers in the area. It would cost 72 rupees (a little over a dollar) and our driver would be Manish , driving a Suzuki Echo. But wait a minute, what’s that in small print at the bottom?

Driver is deaf or hard of hearing.

Nope. Nix that one, it’s hard enough making yourself understood by someone with normal hearing.

Chandraveer would be our driver. As a white Suzuki Maruti pulled into the driveway, things were not looking auspicious. The car was old,dirty,dented and the driver looked like someone out of a gangster movie. We got in anyway. No more than two minutes had passed when we heard a bump, bump bump.

This car has a flat tire, let’s get out.

Gerald grabbed me out of the car and we went back to the hotel to start again. The driver was still flailing his arms trying to get us to wait and get back in the car. The third one was the charm and we arrived ten minutes later at the restaurant.

Subsequent trips have proven to be iffy. Once, while trying to find a major clothing store, Fabindia, the driver became totally lost. His GPS didn’t work, he became flustered and the car smelled like a diseased animal had recently died. We were forced to get out and walk. Even the polluted city air was better than remaining in his car another minute.

Our second problem was graciously solved by the hotel manager, after telling him about our apprehension crossing the road to get to the Foundation in the mornings.

Welcome back, Mr. Huth. We will assign you and Madam one of our bellman as your private escort every day.

Luckily Hindus believe they will live many lives or no one would ever cross the road.

Between Heaven and Hell/It Depends On Which Day You Ask

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Gandhi sculpted in a tree at the ashram

“It depends on which day you ask”  was the response from Veena, (an Indian-American volunteer from Berkeley),when asked how she would rate her experience working as a doctor for Manav Sadhna this past year. It certainly could be said about so many things in India. I would be lying if I said that the three weeks spent in Ahmedabad working with the children at Manav Sadhna went by quickly. The last week I was counting the days until our departure.  We hated the city- the choking fumes of pollution, the rubble, the slums, and the complete chaos.  There doesn’t seem to be any redeeming factors to counter the negativity.

The flip side is the incredible experience of working with people so totally dedicated to compassionate service and non violence. This is no ashram with holy people; it is everyday people putting into practice their convictions in the most humble manner without ego, only service. Each day begins with communal prayer and sharing.Virren gave up a lucrative career in the US and decided not to marry and have a family, in order to follow his heart and be fully committed to serving others.  He earned enough money  in the USA which enabled him not to have to worry about working anymore.  Similar stories were repeated many times.

What is so startling to me is the number of young people, born in the UK or US who come  as repeat volunteers to Ahmedabad each year during school vacations to serve at Manav Sadhna.  Esham is an 18 year old ,born in England of Gujarati parents ,who first visited India as a fifteen year old with the program, Discover India.  He was so taken with what he experienced, that he started his own charitable foundation to build sports fields in the slum areas of Ahmedabad.  Britain awarded him honors for his work.  His father was born in Uganda, but grew up in the UK when his family and all people of Indian ancestry were kicked out by the dictator, Idi Amin in 1972.  Esham’s wish for his 18th birthday was to bring his father to experience Manav Sadhna, and see Gujarat for the first time. During the summer break, the ashram is filled with young Indians from abroad, who have never grown up or lived in India, but feel a strong pull.  I met three or four 18 year old girls,on winter break from University.  All of them expressed the same sentiment.  “When I leave, all I think about is when I’m coming back next”. Nimmo is a 37 year old hip hop singer who grew up in LA and moved to Ahmedabad permanently six years ago. He is in the process of helping set up an arts center and tours around the world sharing his message of love and cooperation, through his music.

I loved how I felt at the ashram and the relationships with the volunteers and the children I worked with, but I could never go back to Ahmedabad.  Its hard for me to understand the powerful magnet that attracts these young people come back to such a place. I know it will take some time to fully absorb what I learned and I am grateful for the time I spent there. So ,yes it depends what day you ask for my answer about my Indian adventure, but it is not yet over.  After Rajasthan we are headed for the Himalayas and the sacred cities of Haridwar and Rishikesh.

Go Fly a Kite

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International Kite Festival

Our final day in Ahmedabad is Uttarayan- the  Kite Flying Festival.  Actually there are two festivals-an International one which goes on for four days along the Sabarmati Rivefront and displays impressive kites from countries around the world, and the local one which is celebrated on January 14  by every Amdavadi, young and old, rich and poor alike.

Schools are closed, shops and banks are shuttered, and the whole city comes to a standstill and flies kites during Uttarayan. Streets are empty  of rickshaws and traffic (thank god) and  the action is centered around the kite markets. Sellers of string are on the street with vats of dyes in vibrant colors.  These are not ordinary kites as we know them.  They are made out of small pieces of colored tissue paper and cost only a few cents each and are meant for one time use only. Families buy fifty or sixty of them, depending on their finances.  The strings are coated with crushed glass and the goal is to cut other peoples kites and see how long you can keep yours up in the air.  Of course this makes the whole event not only fun, but dangerous as well.  The number of people and birds injured each year by having their necks and throats cut by the strings is well documented in the local papers.  The govenment tried to ban the sale of these “Chinese strings”, with no luck. Days before the actual festival children are on the rooftops of buildings, and kites can be seen caught in the trees.

Kite string sellers

Dyeing the strings

Virren, the director of Manav Sadhna, has invited the staff and volunteers to the rooftop of his home for a kite flying party. “Come sometime after 10:30 in the morning”. When we arrive at 11:00 a.m. (the first guests) he is up on the roof, dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt.  “ I’ve been here flying kites since 7:00 a.m.”. He is 52 years old, lived in the USA for 26 years, and is now permanently settled in his hometown of Ahmedabad.  Dancing around like an excited little boy, he moves with precise steps to and fro, manoevering the flow of his kite. Throughout the afternoon  more and more guests arrive- Indians, Westerners, NRIs ( non resident Indians)-and each tries his/her hand at kite flying. In the corner is a stack of more than fifty kites of all colors and sizes. There is very little wind, so his valiant efforts at trying to teach me how to fly a kite is hopeless.

With a leather cowboy hat to protect his head from the blazing sun, Virren doesn’t give up on his own kites  Each time another kite is “cut” he whoops and hollers with his friends.  One person holds the spool of string, judging when to wind or unwind, while the kite flyer pulls the string up or down depending on the direction of the wind. Every rooftop is filled with people, flying kites, eating and drinking, having fun.  Many have loudspeakers with Gujarati Bollywood music blaring.  After all, what’s an Indian party without lots of noise! A food table has been set up, buffet style, with special treats like “jalebies”- a flour dough shaped like a pretzel and fried,with lots of sugar.

We decide to take a short break and check out the kite market around the corner. The scene is hectic with a carnival-like atmosphere.  Hawkers are walking around with balloons of varying shapes and sizes attached to a long pole-  Bollywood stars, parrots,hawks and crocodiles.  We choose a parrot and a hawk,  and watch the brisk sales as cars pull up to buy balloons and kites. And then we go back to the party.

Balloon extravaganza

Brisk balloon sales

As night settles in, the mood changes. Paper lanterns with flames inside(yet another illegal, dangerous activity) float through the sky.  It looks like stars and moon beams-hundreds of them- accompanied by bursts of fireworks. All this we  see from the large panoramic window of our hotel room. The day has been a wonderful ending to our time at Manav Sadhna.  For a short while, nothing else matters and all is well is the world.

Everybody loves to party at Virren-bai

Gandhi’s Dream is Alive and Well in Ahmedabad 

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  It’s been almost two weeks since we started working at Manav Sadhna, a non governmental organization (NGO) located on the grounds of Gandhi’s former ashram. I’ve struggled to put my feelings into words. This has probably been the most difficult project we’ve worked on to date. A feeling of love and  compassion envelops you upon entering the ashram grounds, but the world outside is difficult to digest.  The negative things that people fear about visiting India are abundantly evident in Ahmedabad- the pollution, the poverty, the congestion, the beggars and the chaotic nature of a metropolis that is overpopulated and under developed.  We have never stayed long in big cities because of this, but were moved by the work we saw being done at Manav Sadhna last year.

The scope of the organization is mind boggling, and every program is organized in keeping with Gandhi’s principles of loving kindness.   The original buildings on the banks of the Sabarmati river, where Gandhi lived for twelve years from 1918-1930, have been converted into a living museum.  It attracts flocks of visitors, mostly Indian,to relive a period in history that changed India and the world forever.

Gandhi’s living quarters

The banks of the Sabarmati River

Manav Sadhna- worshiping each individual as a service to God– was founded in 1990 based on Gandhi’s philosophy of “Love all, Serve all”. Walking through the grounds , the peaceful nature of the place  creates a meditative environment . Shoes are removed and left at the entrance of the main building , as a sign of respect.

Three women who work in the kitchen, sweep and clean the dirt and dust from the day before, as the entrance room fills up with  volunteers from around the world,many  of whom are  non resident Indians who have grown up in the USA . We  sit cross legged on a mat , and by now the workers have also joined the group. A tape plays excerpts from Hindu,Muslim,Buddhist,Christian and Jewish prayers, while the group bows their head in silent meditation. Each new volunteer is acknowledged with an introduction,drums, and a tikka (traditional red dot made out of vermilion paste)placed on the forehead.  A hand made paper garland is put around their neck.  In the center of a flower it says “Be the Change”, and each petal has one word written- “Beauty”, “Truth”, “Hope”, “Compassion” and “Love”. The volunteers talk about what they will be doing – teaching, arts projects,medical work,marketing,environmental, social welfare, women’s issues, etc. Many are repeat volunteers and have been coming for years-bringing supplies,skills and most of all,their complete dedication to the values of Gandhi.  And then everyone scatters to their respective projects.

Main entrance hall of Manav Sadhna

I am in awe of the work being done and the manner in which it is carried out.  There is a camraderie among the volunteers who work here in the various programs. Laura and Catherine are Pacific Islanders who live in California.Laura left a lucrative multi million dollar financial enterprise to start a charitable foundation. She is here to build homes in Nepal,Afghanistan and Pakistan. The lively contingent of five Spaniards have come for four months to do whatever is necessary, and organize yoga classes and silent spiritual meditation retreats. This weekend they are cooking  a Spanish meal for  Seva, a “pay it forward” cafe. It promises to be filled with music, laughter and lots of garlic. Ashish, a software engineer from Delhi, has come to set up a recycling operation as a profit sharing enterprise for some of the 40,000 women who spend their days scavenging the garbage dumps in the hope of salvaging enough junk to make a few pennies to buy food. We visited the program and felt his passion, as he described how each of the “sisters” is treated with respect,given health care, a fair price for their work, and a day (Saturday) which is reserved for some well deserved pampering.

Our work with the children has been mixed. The first group was very talented, and are employed doing part time work for the ashram, making paper goods to be sold at their retail store. Creativity and enthusiasm were both in full measure.  We were sorry to have to end our time with them and move to another group. The next class was at a brand new beautiful community center, built by a famous Indian architect deep inside one of the nearby slums. As we passed through the narrow lanes, with tiny, cramped cement block homes, feelings of sadness, despair and  wonder filled me. Living in these conditions is a daily struggle to survive, yet the smiles were bright and forthcoming.We visited homes where five or six people lived that were no larger than my bedroom and the walls were covered with mold and mildew.  Always we are offered chai, some snack, and as people wander in and out, it is obvious that family and neighbors are important and account for their incredible resiliency. What would be intolerable living conditions for us, is for them a daily reality.

It’s strange to feel “stuck” in our lovely hotel , rather than being out and about exploring the city,but all attempts  have been abysmal,frustrating and terrifying. Rickshaw drivers don’t seem to know where anything is, traffic is  at a standstill, and the belching fumes of exhaust are sickening.

Today was a great day. We worked at a new community center in a slum that is 60% Muslim and 40% Hindu.  To get there we had to drive on an unpaved road and then clamber up a dirt hill.  It was much poorer than the other two locations where we worked.  Again, the center was an oasis in the midst of extreme poverty. A Hindu temple and a small mosque were built  on the grounds., and this was an experiment in harmonious living between the two religions. The children obviously  had little previous outside contact and treated us as a curiosity.  It took a while for them to open up to trying something new, but then it was all smiles and creative energy. It’s really such a small thing we do with the children, a few hours of having fun and exploring new ideas- but they are so happy for the attention and respect.

Manav Gulzar slum

We finished the day by going to the Sabarmati Riverfront Festival, where Gerald had created and organized an interactive collage mural and an exhibition of the work done by the children at his workshops. Next week is the kite festival.

Manav Sadhna- An Oasis in the Desert

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Early morning view from my window

Today is a day like any other in a big South Asian city. Early in the morning, just after the sun rises at 7 am, people slowly start to appear- on roof tops flying kites, hanging out the wash, sweeping dust off the streets-all without any sense of urgency. Streets are eerily quiet at this hour, since shops open  informally at 10 or 11- even the banks don’t open until 10:30. As the day progresses,Ahmedabad, the capital city of Gujarat,becomes increasingly congested, with auto rickshaws belching their thick smoke, ancient buses rattling along, emitting intermittent blasts of exhaust. And there there are the people- three million of them. Crossing to the other side of the road from our hotel is a life-threatening proposition.  Each day 382 people are killed in traffic accidents in India. There are occasional traffic lights, but they are a suggestion, rather than an imperative, and few drivers pay any attention.  “Challenge the motos not the cars” is Gerald’s mantra.

We’ve come here, not for the sights, but to volunteer at Manav Sadhna, an organization on the grounds of Gandhi’s ashram.  Their mission is to serve the thousands of slum dweller families who live in and around the city. Our first day, Christmas,is a typical Indian experience.  Sharish, the volunteer coordinator at the ashram, has sent us an email. “The children are doing a Christmas celebration from 3-6.. Do come and you can see what the children are like that you’ll be working with”.  However,when we arrive at the ashram it is surprisingly deserted.  A young woman tells us “Oh, Sharish isn’t here, he’s at the riverfront for the Christmas celebration.”  No one has thought to tell us that the event is not at the ashram. By a twist of fate we meet the director who is heading that way in a van.

When we arrive at the venue there are easily a thousand people, mostly women and children, seated on the terraced concrete steps by the riverfront promenade. We are then introduced to Sharish onstage, and are shown to prime seats. These are children who spend their days scavenging garbage heaps looking for something they can sell for recycling. Manav Sadhna has organized recycling centers, cutting out the middle man and giving the women the money directly. By looking at the collected group you would never suspect their impoverished condition. Smiling, clean faces, groomed hair, and for the most part, nicely dressed. The show is amazing! Costumes have been rented and the dances are choreographed by an alumnus of the program- easily rivaling a Bollywood production. All this has been underwritten by a software company. An addendum to the program is a group of blind children singing and drumming.  Unfortunately there is only one microphone which gets passed back and forth between the drummers and the dancers, rendering each group mute alternately.

  1. imageimageimageAn auspicious beginning.