Monday, April 25, 2005

Day 261 - New Delhi, India

A day before we left India. We had always warned the boys that one day before we left India we would take them on a journey around New Delhi that would be a harsh and unforgettable experience. The idea was that we would visit the railway station and meet the children who live there, go and see the funeral pyres, which Julie and I had visited on our own and distribute some toys to children in the shanty towns. We decided to go on the Sunday before we left on the following Tuesday. I walked up to the taxi rank and found a taxi driver who wanted a job for the day. I told him I wanted him to take me to these various places and that we would be spending the day in and around the shanty towns. He seemed to grasp what I was talking about so I hopped in and drove with him back home to collect the family. He took us to church and waited for us outside. 

There’s something exceedingly decadent about having a cab wait for you, especially as we were going to be at least an hour and a half. But at a cost of £6 for 6 hours we felt it was worth sticking with the same man all day. At least he would know where we lived. After church we had a couple of doughnuts and a coffee and set off. We decided that we would not have lunch today (actually the boys were not included in this decision making process but were affected by it) just to get a sense of what it might be like to be hungry, like some of the people we were to meet. That was the idea anyway. 

We started off by driving to the crematorium. Our driver, who by now was fully into the idea of showing us some of the darker aspects of New Delhi, pointed out the drug dens and addicts who were lined up in the road leading up to the crematorium. The boys have been fully (reasonably fully) informed about the idea of drugs and the destruction they reek. Sammy was horrified for instance, to discover in Canada a chain of stores called “Shoppers Drug Mart”. “What sort of country IS this Daddy?” We entered the facility with the taxi driver who had decided to accompany us as our guide. There were 5 or 6 pyres already alight and several bodies being carried in on bamboo stretchers. We followed one and watched as they performed the ceremonial washing. They then took the body right down to the edge of the Yamuna river. This pyre was going to be right by the water’s edge. We sat in a shelter some 20 yards from the crowd whilst some of the pall bearers went off to buy some wood. Some minutes later the wood man appeared with a barrow of wood and they started to construct the pyre. The boys were transfixed by the whole operation which took an hour to complete. It was then doused in ghee (which is basically cooking oil) and the eldest son, with the aid of a large taper, went around the pyre and lit it. We sat for another 30 minutes watching the progress of the flames. Some of the relatives came and sat with us. One of them was curious enough to ask why we were interested in such things rather than visiting more conventional tourist sites. I wasn’t really sure what to say but I told him we were showing the boys what happens when you die. He seemed satisfied with this answer. It was quite a sobering moment for the boys who actually witnessed the body burning. Further down the river, another pyre had just about burnt out. One of the crematorium workers raked through the ashes and pulled out a bone which one of the relatives gingerly, as it was still hot, threw into the middle of the river. This was a traditional thing to do to make sure the body actually connected with the river. 

Our driver then took us to New Delhi railway station and on the way we stopped to buy a couple of dozen bananas. We had heard, read and seen, that many of the kids living there were addicted to sniffing correction fluid thinner (or other stuff) and that if we offered them any money it would probably go straight on their addiction. So we bought the bananas instead. We entered the teaming infested station and started to look around. We saw some little boys walking around on the tracks further up the line. They were distinguished by their dirty tattered clothes, bare feet and matted hair. They are inevitably carrying sacks which they use to collect their re-cyclable and saleable rubbish. What they do is to wait for a train to arrive and terminate at the station. They immediately clamber aboard and gather as much valuable rubbish as possible. Mainly plastic water bottles and other plastic products. They get about 15 rupees per kilo of plastic. A couple of kilos would give them a bottle of fluid and perhaps a bite to eat as well. We saw a train coming in on platform 12. About 5 or 6 rubbish collectors ranging in age from about 6 to 13 or 14 jumped on the train and started to scavenge for rubbish. We managed to catch up to them on the platform and the boys offered bananas through the bars of the 3rd class carriages. The food was grabbed violently. One of the recipients ate the banana whole, without stopping to remove the skin. We walked further along the outside of the carriage to find a door so we could get in and meet the boys. We entered the carriage and 4 boys gathered around us. We gave them more bananas. Julian and Sammy were dishing them out as quickly as they were being eaten. We then made a bit of a mistake. I pulled out some money which I had prepared in very small notes and began to hand each boy a 10 rupee note. It caused a riot and I was immediately mobbed by all of them at once grabbing at the money. Their fingers grabbed so tightly that on several occasions my hand was in pain.

It was an uncomfortable moment. Some of the older boys managed to grab more than the little ones, so we jumped off the train to give us some more space and gave them a note as well. At least they had all eaten a couple of bananas today. We moved back along the platform and several of the boys followed us. We gave them a couple of extra bananas and went up the stairs of the platform connecting bridges. With a few bananas left, we were looking for a suitable recipient. We saw a couple of Rajasthani women sitting in a huddle on the bridge and when we looked at them they held their hands out towards us. The younger lady was nursing a very small child. We gave them the rest of our bananas and 10 rupees. As she stood up to receive the money a metal container and a bottle of medicine fell out from beneath her dress. Luckily it did not break. Clearly one of them was in need. 

We found our taxi driver again and set off from the station. The boys, especially Julian, were talking about the experience and how sad it was for those boys. They were both pleased that momentarily at least, the station boys had had a little bright spot in their otherwise miserable day. It was also clear to all of us that we were not able to change these children’s lives or to give them any real hope but at least there were 4 more people on the planet who had met and knew of them and the poverty they endure. There are certainly 2 more boys on the planet who have a clear picture of what it is like to not have anything at all. We asked the driver to take us to a shanty town where would could distribute some of the cricket bats and balls we had bought. We had about 10 bats and 15 balls of various sizes. Some of plastic and some real wood ones with real cricket balls. They were all bought for about 50 pence or a £1 each. He took us to his cab rank where he knew many of the rubbish collecting street kids assembled on a Sunday afternoon. A local church came every Sunday afternoon and taught the kids some English. 2 hours before the teacher was to arrive at the place 20 or 30 children had already assembled. We spotted some boys running around and waved them to come over. With the help of the taxi driver we asked them if they enjoyed cricket. A silly question really as we had in the past 6 weeks seen many shanty town boys playing cricket with a stick and a plastic bag tied up into a ball. We then asked if they would like a real cricket bat and ball and I went over to the boot of the car and found a nice wooden bat and a rubber cricket ball. I brought it out and the boys presented it to them. It was as if we had handed them a ticket to paradise. Their faces lit up and almost cried for joy. I came back 5 hours later to do some shopping and discovered that they were still playing with their new equipment. 

The driver then took us to a leper colony on the edge of one of the shanty towns. It looked like a project that was run by one of the charities or NGOs that are in abundance around here. It was quite distressing for the boys to see people with many fingers and other body parts missing caused by a disease that has been curable for ages. One of the most distressing moments for us in India had been when a leper with severe affliction of the disease to his face had appeared at our car window one day. He looked like something out of a Friday the 13th movie. According to many of the locals, they use make up and other means to make their features as ugly as possible (we had seen quite a few young girls with obviously fake bandages on the “stumps” of their hands) but I failed to see how holes in his face could have been faked. Then we moved onto one of the biggest shanty towns in the area. By now it was getting onto 5:00pm and the boys were beginning to squirm with hunger as we had all been with out food for about 6 hours. They weren’t complaining too badly but you could see it was an uncomfortable experience. Our water was almost finished as well. We circled the town in the car and then made a bit of a mistake stopping the car on a stretch of road which was completely empty of any other vehicle. Of course any car stopping at this point would cause all the children in the shanty town and some of the adults to wonder why. Within seconds 20 children had surrounded the car quite rightly wondering why a taxi with 4 white folk inside had stopped in their part of town. We climbed out and I opened the boot. They knew that we must have something for them and by now the crowd had grown to around 40 and we could see children and adults running to see what was happening. I pulled out a cricket bat. The next bit happened in about 10 seconds. The boot was opened and immediately filled with hands and bodies grabbing at the remaining bats and balls. There was pushing and snatching as all the bats and balls were grabbed and fought over. It was like the riots you see when the UN hands out bags of grain to staving families. It really was each person for themselves. We however survived and were kicking ourselves for allowing the fracas in the first place. We should really have arranged it in a more organised fashion. We were just hoping that the adults, who seemed to be taking charge, would not keep all the equipment and sell it rather than let the children enjoy it. We shall never know. I think the day served its purpose for us. The boys now know something of what they did not know before. Time will tell if it makes any difference.