but a few of us are looking at the stars."
Life on Mumbai's streets is mean and tough, like in a gutter. And this one, with the largest floating population of runaway youth, often loses its twinkling stars of hope in the fog of survival pressures.
But Altaf Shaikh, wife Roshni Nair and friend Mansoor Qadri, a young threesome, is helping a few street boys clear this fog. Shaikh and Qadri realised that while it was easy to find patrons who were willing to help street-children, nobody was prepared to lend a hand to the youth. It's bitter irony, because this driftwood of humanity needs to be channelised if society is to protect itself from crime. Observes Shaikh: "We realised there were enormous funds flowing in for children, but none for youth because donors felt these boys had reached the age when one is 'responsible'. Even homes nurturing street-children dump them right back."
Armed with determination and experience (Qadri and Shaikh have worked for more than a decade with youth organisations and both Qadri and Nair are Masters in Social Work), the trio set out, trying to yoke a suspicious bunch of street youth to responsibility. They run group homes where four to six boys are housed and conduct camps where 20 to 25 boys are directed into their dream careers. Besides, they have set up a shelter for drifters at the municipal school in the red-light area of Kamathipura, shielding them from the rigours of the street.
When Qadri and Shaikh branched out to form Saathi, they trawled the sea of humanity around Dadar-Bandra, Bombay Central, J.J. Naka, Chowpatty, Mahim Dargah. "We started haunting their regular hang-outs, contacting the ones we'd known." This meant contending with suspicion that the hunted have for do-gooders -wary that their (false) sense of well-being would be destroyed by a sense of purpose.
Their strong sense of purpose in place, the trio have steered clear of approaching big donors since that would set their mission trotting into a "race" they would rather avoid. Avers Qadri: "We have kept a reasonable target, realising there are several generous people who will help in times of crisis." As Shaikh points out, the bathroom at the shelter, which resembles that of any plush hotel, was renovated free-of-cost by architects.
At weekend camps, the boys -between 14 and 19 years -confront physical challenges like rock-climbing. Their minds, meanwhile, grapple with the daunting task of giving a shape to their futures. Says Shaikh: "We take them away so that they stop bothering about their immediate problem -which is the next meal. It is only when they begin being responsible for themselves do they realise that they too can have dreams. Most want to be drivers. So we ask them to plan out their savings (they earn Rs 1,200 to 2,500 a month) and chart out the requirements -a driving course, licence fee."
At group homes, a deposit amount (ranging from Rs 10,000 to Rs 12,000) is paid by Saathi. The boys are taught to be independent, sharing the cost of meals and the rent (from
Rs 1,000 to Rs 1,500) while they are helped to find temporary jobs (even rag-picking, since that satiates not only hunger for victuals but also dignity) that will help them reach out for their own stars.
Since Saathi registered in 1997, 14 boys have charted their lives. Shoma Shekar, for instance, was among those who ran away from home scouring the alleys of Mumbai for stardom. Thanks to Saathi, he has been able to muster enough courage to visit big studios like RK and saved enough to enlist himself in a dance course. The best part of the story, likely to end happily, is that he has revisited his home in Orissa.
Saathi intends to script more such stories which may not change the course of India's history, but definitely make it smoother. They can be contacted at 022-4948053.
