Hello Rajesh Sir, Thanks for this brief introduction. ----- Original Message ----- From: "Rajesh Asudani" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Monday, February 25, 2008 12:43 PM Subject: [AI] A tribute to Baba Amte
> SPACES OF CHANGE > > Living with dignity > > > NEETA > DESHPANDE > > Beyond rejection by relatives, friends and society, to rebuild > one's life and a community based on hard work and dignity - that's the > essence > of Amte's Anandwan. > > > > > Photo: PTI Hope and refuge: > Baba Amte. > > > > > > The incredible story of Anandwan, > an expansive, cooperative town of 2,000 leprosy-afflicted and disabled > residents, > began one rainy night. While returning home, Murlidhar Devidas Amte - > better known as the humanitarian crusader Baba Amte - ; came across what > seemed to > be a bundle on the side of the road. When he took a closer look, Amte, to > his horror, encountered a man in the last stages of leprosy. He saw a > rotting > mass of human flesh without fingers and toes, with holes, sores and worms > in place of a nose and eyes. Horrified and afraid, he ran home. But he > could > not live with himself. To overcome the fear he had experienced, he > resolved to work with the leprosy-afflicted, a life-changing decision that > laid the > seeds for his future course of action. > > In 1951, on 50 acres of stony wasteland inhabited by wild animals near > Warora in north-eastern Maharashtra, Amte along with his wife Sadhana and > six patients > crippled by leprosy, started building Anandwan, a leprosarium and farm > where those shunned by their families and society could live and work with > dignity. > Among the first tasks, Amte and his companions with deformed hands and > feet, built shelters and dug a well which took almost two months. In three > years' > time, Anandwan grew to a community of 60 people building a new life > together. Agriculture, the mainstay of Anandwan's economy, developed > gradually, along > with its diverse endeavours. > > Impressive growth > > Today, Anandwan sprawls across 175 hectares, encompassing hospitals for > the treatment, training and rehabilitation of leprosy patients, schools > for the > leprosy-afflicted, blind, deaf-mute and handicapped and a home for the > leprosy-afflicted old. It boasts of 120 hectares of agricultural land and > vocational > training centres for disabled youth and rural school and college dropouts. > It also includes a home for senior citizens, a community nursery for > orphans > and the children of those with leprosy, and housing for some 2,000 > residents, among various other endeavours. These varied activities at > Anandwan are carried > out by the leprosy-afflicted and disabled themselves. More than five > decades of hard, laborious work has created this "grove of joy" which > offers opportunities > to live a life of dignity to its residents. > > During my visit to Anandwan, I watch a partially blind man named Govind > weaving a handloom mat. The task demands craftsmanship, patience and > attention to > detail. Govind progresses extremely slowly but with confidence. A visitor > comments, "He can't see a thing so I don't know how he weaves." At > Anandwan, > countless such persons with disabilities are trained in trades ranging > from carpet making to carpentry, handloom weaving to electrical work, > tailoring > to repairing air conditioners. The rehabilitated members of Anandwan's > community produce a diverse range of products including cloth and carpets, > leather > products and metal furniture, coolers and bicycles. In a country where the > disabled are usually sighted begging on the streets or in trains in > miserable > conditions without any dignity, Amte's creative response - "Work builds, > charity destroys" - comes alive in the vocational training centres here. > > Through the years, Anandwan has been home to many remarkable individuals > who have overcome enormous odds to rebuild their lives fruitfully, > utilising the > opportunities provided here. > > Courageous lives > > Eighty-three-year-old Bansilalji is one such individual. A long-time > colleague of Amte, Bansilalji talks of the devastating discrimination he > faced when > afflicted by leprosy. "Anywhere in the world," he tells me emphatically, > "once you have leprosy, you have no father, no mother, no brother, no > relatives. > No one loves you." With a smile on his wrinkled face, he is rational and > understanding about the absolute rejection he faced from his near and dear > ones. > They were very afraid of getting infected, he tells me. They were > illiterate and believed that leprosy could not be cured, he reasons > further. People from > his village, including his own relatives, would refuse to visit his house > and buy the milk of his buffaloes. Bansilalji found that people who used > to love > him and care for him - his parents, siblings, wife and friends - now > systematically avoided him. They refused to eat with him, refused to talk > to him, > rejected him entirely. Utterly frustrated, he decided to leave home, > resolving to commit suicide. But fortunately, he happened to meet Amte in > 1956, and > in the days that followed, played a significant role in helping him > develop Anandwan's agriculture in its early days. Today, Bansilalji's son > and grandson > visit him at Anandwan, but the scars of the discrimination he faced are > etched on his mind so deeply that he refuses to visit his old home. > > Another life lived with courage is that of Sadashiv Tajne. Sadashiv was > afflicted by polio at the age of three, hence he cannot walk. I had > decided to talk > to him about his disability, but he spoke to me about his work at Anandwan > with so much hope, energy and enthusiasm that I forgot my original > purpose, > forgot that I was speaking with a disabled man. Sadashiv's parents > educated him up to Class 10; throughout those years, he would move about > on his hands. > In 1972, he met Amte and enrolled at Anand Niketan College - the Arts, > Science and Commerce College built by the leprosy-afflicted for those > without leprosy > from the world beyond Anandwan. To educate himself during college, he had > to travel two kilometres back and forth on his hands everyday. While > pursuing > his formal education, he learned various trades at Anandwan's vocational > training centre. Today, he is the supervisor of the same programme, and > also the > director of Anandwan's orchestra. At Anandwan itself, he married Asha, a > deaf and mute woman, with whom he has what he describes as a wonderful > marriage. > Sadashiv has never considered himself disabled, never avoided any task due > to his disability, never said no. > > A range of endeavours > > Over five and a half decades, Anandwan has pioneered a diverse range of > endeavours in various fields ranging from community living to caring for > the environment. > One such endeavour at Anandwan is its very own, extraordinary orchestra - > Swaranandawan. I am moved beyond words to see this group of performers > with varying > disabilities on stage. Swaranandawan belts out popular, lively film songs > in self-assured, confident voices. A sign on the backdrop to the stage > reads > "Give them a chance, not charity"; beneath it is painted a raised fist. > Some performers move to the centre of the stage by supporting themselves > on their > hands. Other blind singers have to be helped in order to face the > audience. But, in spite of the difficulties, they are undaunted, confident > and charismatic. > A little girl sings "Dil hai chota sa, Choti si Asha". Her talented mother > sings "Jo bhi kiya, Hamna kiya, Shaan se". After the performance, the > audience > - visitors from Bihar - crowd around the artists. One of the > polio-afflicted singers, who is also the flamboyant compere of the show, > has sung a song dedicated > to his life-partner, who is deaf and mute. Who is she, people from the > audience ask him? Can we see your house, they continue. She is very lucky > (to have > a husband like you), remarks one lady. > > Back to reality > > Having spent a few unforgettable days at Anandwan, I take my leave. On the > train, I encounter many beggars, some blind, some without legs who are > crawling > on their hands, some pointing out their deformities to me. What kind of a > society are we, I think to myself, that cannot even provide a basic life > of dignity > to our fellow human beings? As the beggars stream past me gradually, I am > reminded of my days at Anandwan. I am reminded of the girl who confidently > pointed > out directions to me with her hand amputated at the elbow. I am reminded > of a group of deaf and mute students talking animatedly amongst themselves > in > sign language. I am reminded of the partially blind girls who danced > beautifully to the beat of the Anandwan orchestra. Outside Anandwan, the > world seems > to be back to its usual self. It is difficult to keep in mind that a place > such as Anandwan really exists. > > ________________________________ > Notice: The information contained in this e-mail > message and/or attachments to it may contain > confidential or privileged information. If you are > not the intended recipient, any dissemination, use, > review, distribution, printing or copying of the > information contained in this e-mail message > and/or attachments to it are strictly prohibited. If > you have received this communication in error, > please notify us by reply e-mail or telephone and > immediately and permanently delete the message > and any attachments. 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