SOCIETY
The heroes of Jamghat
MADHU GURUNG
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For street children who led vulnerable lives, Jamghat is the family they never had. It gives them hope and allows them to reach out to their dreams.
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Second chance: In their new home.
"MEIN Shahrukh Khan to nahi, us se thoda sa kam hoon. Mujhe us ki tarha naam chahiye," (I am not Shahrukh Khan, just a little short of him. Like him I too want to make a name) says Irfan, 18, speaking in the actor's voice that he can imitate to perfection. He crinkles his eyes flirtatiously, a la Amir Khan. Next, he beats a steady tattoo on his throat and brings out the lilt of a snake charmer's flute. And before you know it, he cries out like a newborn baby. Around him his friends laugh and thump his back in easy camaraderie.
Irfan's smile and quicksilver moods disguise a childhood of pain. Beaten and brutalised by his stepmother, he and his three siblings lived in constant fear. One day when she pushed his sister's hand over the heated tava in anger, leaving her screaming in agony, Irfan picked up a brick and hurled it at his stepmother. Then he ran away from home to escape his father's abuse.
Same story, again and again
He was 10 when he began living on the streets of Delhi. His friends have similar stories to tell of why they ran away from home to the urban jungle where every day was spent in trying to survive hunger, beating, illness, sexual abuse and fear.
It is ironic that street children like these who live such vulnerable lives, are considered in the popular perception to be lawless, crime prone, living on fraud and theft. The most that the State does for such children is to dump them in punitive, jail-like remand homes. Boys and girls who have got used to the freedom of the streets cannot adjust to this regimented, negative environment.
The result, the streets of Delhi, despite the many lurking dangers, are home to over 40,000 children, who have run away because they got no love and had to contend with constant beating and grinding poverty. Most NGOs agree that this is the number of children who are completely on the streets. However if we were to also count the children who work on the streets, returning home only to sleep at night, plus those who work and sleep in shops, the figure would mount to more than four lakhs.
Back in 2003, when Britain's Prince Charles visited the city, the international aid agency, Action Aid, decided to show him a slice of this reality. They asked two stage actors, Lokesh Jain and Amit Sinha, to put together a play, with the help of real street children.
Thus started the group "Jamghat". The plan was to support the group for six months and take the play around the country to generate awareness and debate on the issue.
Sitting in the basement of a Lado Sarai DDA flat, where they all shifted recently from Vijay Ghat, Amit, 26, is surrounded by his "bacche log". He admits that when he left his home town Siwan in Bihar, to come to Delhi to do his graduation from Delhi University, "I never thought it would all come to this or that I would be running Jamghat or be with them."
Turning point
He points at Sunil and says, "It was 8.30 at night three years ago when I came across a group of seven boys sniffing solution near Jama Masjid, scruffy, dirty, unwashed and zonked out. I asked them if they wanted to change their lives and do something worthwhile. They said yes and I took them to the Nizamuddin Bharat Scouts Grounds."
"I cannot even describe their state. Physically and mentally they were different human beings altogether. They had lice all over their bodies. They pretended not to hear you and tuned you out. In my experience, almost all children on the streets have faced sexual abuse. It changes the way they look at the world. Now look at them, they are like you and me, they have their fears, pain, laughter, pride and dreams to make something of their lives." "Bhaiyya doesn't know, but sitting in the auto that took us to Nizamuddin, we were making plans to run away. We had all done nasha; had we been sober we would have never agreed. We first thought he was the police, then someone who wanted to take advantage of us," recalls Arjun.
Sunil jostles him, "Our Arjun was a shahi nashachi (royal drug addict). He had done everything from charas, smack to injection. Haan bol, hai na."
Arjun nods with an engaging grin and adds, "At Nizamuddin, we were told we could not do any nasha if we wanted to make something of ourselves. I used to double up in pain with craving, so I would walk around aimlessly or just go to sleep. I got better and then it was completely okay." Throughout, Amit would do "zabardast counselling" and be there whenever he was needed.
There were 14 boys between 9-16 years who made up the first band of Jamghat, and the play they showcased was called "Patri mein Bachpan". Three months later, they had done numerous shows in Delhi and Mumbai. Then they were told that Action Aid could not fund them any longer.
But the boys had formed a friendship and did not want to return to the streets. That was when all the city's NGOs who worked with street children, came together bearing gifts that made this collective wish possible. People donated money, clothes, food, making it possible for Jamghat to hire a place at Vijay Ghat. There the fledgling street theatre group worked out how to survive.
"None of us had thought that the boys would want to live together. We had to work out how to make them self-reliant. The first step was to educate them and provide them with vocational training," recalls Amit.
Today Irfan is studying in class VIII and will give his exams from the Open School. He is also learning to play the drums. Arjun went to Faridabad to learn how to make paper and jute bags. He admits that every day while returning he passed a place where he saw boys his age smoking crack. The old craving returned and he was back on the street. When Jamghat moved to Lado Sarai, where there was less chance of being enticed by the old temptation, Arjun returned to the group.
In 2005, Jamghat was registered as an NGO, with the aim of becoming a home where street children could live and learn life skills. Its President is Indu Prakash and Javed Nafis Rehman serves as a member of the board. The two had worked together during the pioneering Action Aid initiative for Delhi's homeless called Aashray Adhikar Abhiyan.
No punitive rules
Their names come up again and again in Irfan's conversation as "Indu sir" and "Javed sir" who discovered him loitering in Hanuman Mandir and later took him to hospital when he was desperately sick and "pucca ready-to-die". He was sent to live in the Prayas home from where he ran away. Rediscovered, he was sent to a home run by Don Bosco where he lasted six months. Then he joined Jamghat. So far he has done over 40 plays.
"Jamghat is a collective strength of children. It doesn't function like a custodian nor does it have punitive rules and regulations. That's the biggest problem and reason why government remand homes fail and children who are sent there run away. We have rules and regulations but we give children their freedom," says Indu.
Many of the boys who joined have moved on, but as a group Jamghat has been able to sustain itself. "For a year we don't have to worry about food, but we need books to study, we need clothes and above all we need interaction with people who can volunteer their time and services. Like someone who can teach or a doctor who can talk to boys about their health," says Amit.
Life in the tiny basement dwelling is streamlined. The boys follow a timetable and everyone has their jobs lined up. Working in pairs, they cook, clean, make paper bags, go out for their courses or do street theatre. The work order changes every week. They cannot do drugs and no one leaves the home after 8.30 p.m.
"We bathe everyday, wear clean clothes. On the footpath, if you want to bathe, it costs five rupees. Either you can eat or bathe, so we eat," says Dinesh who does not know how old he was when he ran away from Bhind, near Gwalior. Dark, with intense eyes, he has TB and goes to the hospital three times a week for medicine. He wants to become a car mechanic and is currently studying for class I. "I love cars. If I cannot drive them, then I want to fix them."
Full of possibilities
Hope and desire to reach out to their dreams is evident among all. At 18, Sonu is nearing the end of his driving course and hopeful he will get a job as a driver. "I want to save and then go home. I want my family to be proud of me. I don't want to be a hopeless nashachi (drug addict)."
Amit admits that only a few of the 14 street children who originally formed Jamghat remain. Some are working, some have gone home, some back to the streets. Yet Jamghat is the family they never had. The older boys return to meet everyone from time to time and it is an occasion to celebrate. "They come back and bring a shower of possibility," says Amit with a wide smile.
Javed worries about those back on the streets. "It's a problem we grapple with. Why do they go back? Do they value their freedom too much? Is it because they want to earn money? Are we giving the right guidance? "
Amit adds, "The boys have given me so much. I have learnt that I should not push my expectations on any of them. Our boat is in the middle. I still have to settle the boys. Look at them, each one of them is a beautiful human being." On the walls smiling photographs of the boys are testimonies of the milestones they've covered together.
Amit shelved his own dreams of professional theatre and intends to use his learnt art to reach out to other children on the street. "There are now 11 boys in Jamghat. I don't want to limit my work to just this number. I feel there is hope in Jamghat and we can give others hope by reaching out to more."
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