The Magical Hands

His hands are gifted. He knows magic. Creating immaculate shapes out of plain mud has been a gift he inherited in legacy. 

 His name is Zaffar and he resides in Zangam, a rural village of Kashmir, with his family of ten and a kucha one room house. Every morning, he walks twenty miles to fetch what he calls the finest and rarest alluvial soil in the mountainous region, for which he needs to plough, carry and till until they are enough to make around 20 utensils a day. As I indulge in a conversation with him - with the help of a local interpreter who translated his Kashmiri into Urdu to me, his four sons: Zeeshan, Rizwan, Zaqeer and Misal run and surround us. I smile at them and ask them whether they go to school. Zaffar hesitates to answer. 

Zeeshan, the oldest one among them being around 12, is the only one who could converse in Urdu and he tells me that he used to go to school till 4th grade, where he learnt little bit of Urdu. Ever since the birth of his fifth and sixth brothers, who are around 2 and 1 respectively, he has not been going to school as his father needs his help to carry extra soil. I am taken aback. Zaffar, who couldn't make most of the Urdu that his bright young son spoke to me, asks my interpreter about what I inquired. I quickly change the topic by asking him how many pots, utensils and hukka pots he sells on a daily basis. He makes around 30 in total, out of which 4-5 get broken when they are taken into furnace and he sells them at around 10 rupees each.

I am saddened. A gifted artisan, whose art is unparalleled and whose skills could earn him fame at the world level, is making just around 200 rupees a day, for earning that he and his son have to walk for over ten miles daily, have to find and till unclaimed lands in inaccessible tract and carry around twenty kilos of soil on their backs; for which his son had to leave his school; with which he has to feed his family of ten and few months down the line, survive the biting cold of Kashmir.

Having nothing more left to say or hear, I begin to leave his house, asking Zeeshan one last question: 'do you want to go to school?' I inwardly pray to hear a yes and await his reply.

He says, 'Yes, even my father wants me to go to school. But, he needs help as well and I'm the elder son.'

I am touched by his maturity. I, being a struggling artist myself, couldn't empathize more. I made a promise to them that the next time I return, I would stay in their village for three months and teach them, and meanwhile, I'll support their education financially as much as I can, with the help of my willing friends and help Zaffar market his art in cities.

They are waiting to hear from me. I'm waiting to hear from you. Please help me raise money for rural artisans - people who are gifted but owing to their lack of resources, are not able to monetize their gift.

P.S. In case you want to help Zaffar, you can contribute in my fundraising campaign at Milaap (www.milaap.org/harsh). Having met over fifty such artisans during my ongoing tour into the roots of India, I urge you to lend your helping hand.

Empower Zaffar and thousands others by GIVING A LOAN at: www.milaap.org/harsh

Face to Face

I was busy orkutting today in the evening when my friend Akshay came into my room and asked me, "Do you want to go to teach the street children, for NSS? Hours will also be awarded." Smitten by lethargy and internet, my usual answer was, "No, not interested." Even the greed of NSS hours could not motivate me.

Fifteen minutes later, I was frustrated with the net speed in the hostel and finally thought of moving out. I saw Apoorv going for the Teaching Project. I accompanied him just for the sake of providing recreation to my mind cluttered with boredom.

We moved towards the place in our campus where all the masons who build our hostels live. There were about a dozen children of the age-group of 5-10 who haven't yet touched a pencil. We had to convince all the parents to allow their children to be taught by us. In most of the cases the father would allow, but the over-protective mother would always hinder saying, "Anjaan log se padhne kaise bhej de?"

We told them that we were not strangers but we too were students. We decided to teach the children in their locality only, so that more children turned up and parents could also develop a faith upon us. This was just the beginning. Everyone of us(the volunteers) were assigned with one child to teach. We were asked to be a friend first and then be a teacher.

I was assigned to a girl of about an age of 8 years. Her name was Rani. Inexperienced in the domain of teaching, I tried my best to do my job effectively. I asked her how much had she studied. She told, "Sirf ek saal tak, uske baad ma ghar ke kaam me baitha di."

She turned out to be interested in studies. She told that she knew counting from 1 to 20, she knew hindi as well as english alphabets, she could identify all the colors and she loved playing luka-chupi. She told that she liked to study when she was in school, but her mother did not allow her to go to school saying it was of no use. I was in gloom after hearing that, feeling very very apprehensive.

To change my mind, I asked her what her ambition was, what she wanted to become when she would grow up? After I poked her for some time(she was feeling shy to tell, perhaps because it could be too big dream for her), she said that she wanted become a doctor. Drawing inspiration from the movie Taare Zameen Par, I asked her to draw anything on the paper. She asked me what to draw. I told her to draw a circle, and then a leaf, then a flower and then a face...and so on. She drew almost everything which was constituting our the surroundings. Wherever she stumbled, I helped her out. It was great fun for both of us, especially when starting something from scratch...from the grass-root level unlimits the possibility of explorations. I taught her how to write her name in hindi as well as in english. I talked to her about basic hygiene, about what's the importance of washing hands before meal and cutting nails. I asked her to share all these facts with her family too.

Time passed swiftly, and soon dusk overtured the sky. Our work for the day was over, Before leaving, I asked Rani to do a homework i.e. to draw a cow and come tomorrow. To my surprise, her reply was, "Ghar mein pen nahin hai." I asked her that your Dad might have it. She said,"Baba ko padhna nahin aata hai." . Stunned at what she said, I came to realize the real condition of my country. In the campus of India's best academic Institute, ironically when these people don't even have an access to the basic ingredients for education like a paper or a pencil, then what would be the condition of the remote areas of the country. I looked at her eyes, all I could see was the innocence and an immense desire to learn. I gifted her my pen and two A4 sheets and made her promise me that she would turn up tomorrow, no matter what her mother said!

What more, we had done our work, and probably two hours would be awarded for that(thereby making my hours count for NSS as 54). If I take off my mind from the NSS hours, this day has showed me something bigger than any of my personal desires i.e. my real India : the condition people at the very base.

Look at these eyes, can we be so mean that we don't even pay notice to the fire hidden behind those cute little eyes. The grass-root level has got an immense potential which will remain unexploited until people look forward to contribute. If we look around carefully, we can find numerous Rani waiting for us to show them the way. Often, we want to contribute but we feel insufficient to convert our thoughts into actions. Today, I came to know that we are not insufficient, but we are gifted with a great tool which is enough to bring a radical change in various lives and that tool is nothing other than EDUCATION. YOU and only YOU have the all the ability to reach out to thousands and touch their lives. This one hour of teaching has provided me with much greater feelings for my nation than my entire lifetime life had, and now I can say proudly, "Life is too big than these NSS hours."

P.S. NSS stands for National Social Service.
P.S. Some of my friends had a great struggle teaching kids who didn't even understand Hindi, but they didn't surrender. Hats off to them!
P.S. I have completed just 52 hours of NSS in the first year, of which about 10 hours are by fraud. They ask us to complete 100 hours in a year though.