United we stand……..

In the winters of 2014, one of my friends’ shared that her housemaid was asked for money in the maternity wing of government hospital in the state capital. This was the time when the state government had declared Health Sewa Guarantee ensuring free treatment, drugs, diagnostics and diet to all who are admitted in the public health facilities. At national level, the state was being lauded for this initiative. By declaring pro-poor policies; the 1 year old government was trying to deepen  its roots to ensure victory in the consecutive fourth term in the future.

Having advantage of access to the higher officials in the department, I shared this incidence with them who were very disappointed and raged by it. In recent years, situation in the public health institutions have seen a stark change . Hospitals are much cleaner, with availability all the basic and essential resources. Suddenly hospitals were revived to its original functions.  They were swarming with people …..patients. The wards were full, medicines stocked at the counter, laboratory busy in taking samples and writing investigation reports. With fund flexibility in a national programme, human resource crisis was also addressed to some extent with contractual appointments and outsourcing of support services. Of course doctors were as scarce as ever…..

Stung by the act, the department ordered a probe to pin down the culprits and take an exemplary action for others not to repeat the same in future. Our organisation being outside the system, were asked to be part of the probe team and were expected to provide an unbiased angle to the whole situation. We were quiet satisfied that the administrators have taken cognizance to teach lesson to the involved . Its for later to decide who actually learnt a lesson in the process…….

One of my colleague was deputed to be part of the probe team. As per the government order he went to the hospital on the scheduled date and time. The other members who were from within the system didn’t turn up for the probe. Doubled with the sense of responsibility, my colleague decided to have a very casual discussion with the staff posted in the labour room. When asked , who were on duty during the reported episode, each one of them had a memory black-out…..He continued in a generalist manner without pinpointing anybody and started going through  the chronological sequence of events since the women was admitted till she was discharged after the childbirth. He also tried to tally the casesheet with the services provided to her. To his surprise, the case sheet was very sketchy with no protocols followed, which he discussed with the staff and left the hospital. No probe report was prepared as this session did not meet its purpose in want of absence of other team members.

Higher officials issued order to shift the staff who was on duty during the reported incidence out of the labour room  with immediate effect for an year…… thus the case  came to a logical ending…. Or was it going to start in a more illogical way…….

After a week my colleague got a notice from a police station…..there had been a police complaint against him to harass a schedule caste woman, who happens to be posted in a government hospital as a staff nurse. This clearly was a case of atrocity against the ‘downtrodden’. He was accused of using racial words against her. Thankfully in such cases FIR is not written without having a dialogue with both the parties. Christmas and New Year were spent to put all the efforts jointly to avoid formal FIR. Strong sources were identified to gain access to Politicians, IG Police, couple of senior bureaucrats …even the Chief Secretary. The top officials were sure that the case doesn’t hold water, but it was not getting anywhere near to closing. We all were worried, but my colleague had lost his sleep with the mere thought of being an accused, he had yet to climb up many steps in his career.  

Finally we decided to seek the most indigenous and trusted path…..face-to-face discussion in an unofficial manner through a mediator. The mediator turned out to be the Steward of the hospital (brain behind the police complaint) who belonged to the ‘upper’ caste. Our background work revealed few of his soft spots which we hit in the most machiavellian way. First meeting was the bull’s eye where the ‘victim’ withdrew the complaint by formally informing the police in writing. Later the complainant leaked the fact that she was asked to write a complaint to teach my colleague a lesson not to get involved in such things in future. After all it could be a direct blow to the economy of the hospital staff  !!

After almost a month long ordeal I learnt that united we stand only for a common  interest…..and we can arm-twist the benefit of our diversities as well to gain it.  

On 26^th January  I felt mocked by the song ……Hindi hain hum watan hai Hindosatan hamara……

Kavita the Kutch cupid

Rann of Kutch has suddenly become prominent on the world map. Thanks to Amitabh Bachchan and Gujarat tourism. It’s a perfect example of a well thought advocacy campaign hitting soft spots in the brain. Kutch literally means something which intermittently becomes wet and dry. The same word is also used in the languages of Sanskrit origin for a tortoise. Our taxi driver was a native of Uttar Pradesh but considers Gujarat as his second home. Better infrastructure, basic amenities and quality of life (as compared to his home state) has made him a local brand ambassador.

It was time of Rannotsav …..a three month long festival to attract tourists. At Dhordo tent village, a huge space is created for the local craftsmen to display and sell their handicrafts. In the arid surrounding, this space was in riot of colours.  Mirror work, applique work, bead jewelry, hand embroidered artifacts, bandhani , mirror frames and mobile covers made out of camel skin…..it was a treat to look at.

Natives of this part are majorly Ahir, Jat, Agariya, Baloch tribes. Men are lean and thin with athletic body while women have chiseled features. In the barren land they can be easily spotted by their bright coloured clothes. Layers and layers of apparel save them from the dry heat. The natives are hardworking and simple people and have learnt to survive happily in limited resources.

In the handicraft market, I spotted a cheerful nymph displaying creative and colourful artifacts made with love and passion. Her stall had tit-bits like rug dolls, purses, mobile holders, door hangers, hair clips, ear rings. The conglomeration interested me but was not motivated enough to buy anything…. as the potential users of this stuff have moved out of my home and became busy with their more exciting campus life. I was watching extraordinary marketing skills of the 8 year old girl. In few minutes she had sold souvenirs to four tourists. Adorned in bright blue coloured dress, she was wearing all possible jewelry. Her rustic features and captive smile attracted many towards her small stall. She refused to tell her name or take a picture unless you buy something from her stall.

It’s interesting to see how human life adjusts and thrives upon in any circumstances. It was astonishing to see in the   dry, barren, arid western tip of the country there is life full of colour and vigor!!

After 100 rupees and a rug doll I could click a lively snap of this Kutch cupid- Kavita

Koi   mil    gaya !!

I was doing few photocopies in the office corridor when a mobile shrieked. I wondered who has this college-goer ringtone in a UN organisation! As I approached my desk, to my horror  I realised that it’s my phone. Kids have again set a different tune. Sheepishly I put the mobile on silent mode. The number flashing was an unknown one. There are so many schemes and advertisements via phone, I do not respond to these unidentified callers. If it’s important, I would get a call anyway.

Last few days have been very difficult and stressful. It was my first summer in Delhi and was intolerable. The schools had summer vacation and my kids were back at home in Bhopal. We were trying to find out a clear week where a family vacation can be organised. It seemed a challenge to zero-in on any dates navigating between French classes, guitar classes, relatives visiting us, my official travel, unavoidable family functions and my daughter’s entrance process for a post-graduate course. In addition to that we have recently acquired a 58 days old puppy.

We keep on talking about work-life balance which is easier said than done. Finally it was decided that we all meet in Delhi which will be helpful in many ways. I don’t have to worry about leave and continue my work; my daughter can appear for the entrance exams, all of  us will be together and can go out in the evenings when it’s a little bit cooler. The only challenge was to get our house-help on board to take care of Crystal, Chloe and Sparta (our pets).

Metro has made life in Delhi quite comfortable. Every day while my ride to and from office, I can’t resist myself admiring the network that has been set up. Hats –off to Japanese meticulousness and Mr Sridharan. Its safe, clean, cheap and criss-crossing the whole city. Our family has become not only metro-literate but champions of metro travel! Information on our visiting spots always revolve round the question- which metro station is nearest? At the entrance and exit we produce metro smart card and take the travel in a clean and air-conditioned train. The only limitation was the Cinderella-feeling which crept in late evening as the metro service stops at 2315 hrs.

Its well experienced that when you feel comfortable and conditioned, you become callous and lose guard. This is what actually happened one day. My husband lost his wallet which had all sorts of credit cards, membership cards, driving licence, PAN card. In short he lost his identity. He spent next 3 days in trailing the route on which we had travelled the previous day. It was an experience in itself. At Kashmiri gate metro station, there is a lost-and-found department. Valuables, cell phones, bags, umbrellas etc. were stacked there unclaimed. Either the passengers were unaware of such a service or they did not bother to find their belongings succumbing to the apathy developed towards the system. Arvind also filed an FIR at the local police station. It took him 3 hours of being volleyed around . That’s why people feel intimidated to approach the police station, hospital and the judiciary system in this country. He came back to Bhopal with a feeling that he has done his bit and left it to the fate. All the credit cards were blocked, applications were written for renewal of the other cards and we counselled ourselves for getting over it.

The phone rang again and brought me to the present. It was the same number. I picked it up with a determination to turn down any offer , no matter how lucrative it was.

Is it Dr Aboli Gore?

Yes… who is this?

Mam, this is Sandeep… Sandeep Gaur (the voice did not have marketing finesse, he cant be selling anything)

I had already opened my mental checklist of saying NO

I am not interested (if it's an offer)

I am in a meeting ( if somebody is asking for a favour)

Please contact my husband (if it’s a bank or insurance company)

Ok, how can I help you?

Mam, have you lost anything few days back?

(Of course I have !! I have lost my sense of humour, my appetite, my patience, my confidence… what are you talking about man?)

Sorry, what do you mean?

Is Arvind Gore your husband? Has he lost something?

Yes, yes, he lost his wallet.

Suddenly I didn’t want this man to hang up.

 Mam, can you please tell me what all was there in the wallet?

I could visualise him flipping through and checking each item as I enlisted them.

Yes mam, that’s it.

 I was overwhelmed by the statement. It’s a miracle to get everything back! He sounded like an average Delhite who takes pride in conversing in Punjabi-english.

 Thanks a lot. Where can I contact you to take it ?

Where do you work mam?

Aha !! That’s an interesting question ! He wants to assess what he gets back in return before revealing his identity fully. I gave the information and asked back the same. He turned out to be Sanitary Inspector with Municipal Corporation of Delhi (MCD). One of his cleaning men found the wallet dumped in a trashbin. The wallet did not have either mine or Arvind’s phone number. He traced us down through the library membership card. He took my mobile number from the library. He verified all the details before he revealed his whereabouts.

We agreed to collect the wallet after 2 days when Arvind was back in Delhi. It was a convenient decision as I was at loss on how to handle the situation. Is he expecting any money or favour in return or he will feel offended if we offer him anything. It was a complicated situation.

On the fixed date , Arvind was met with a middle-aged , average looking person. He came all the way in his 12 year old Maruti 800. He refused to take favour of any kind except the word of gratitude which my husband was very liberal in showing. I have heard so many stories about Delhi that its difficult to accept that we got back the lost property without any cost? But that’s true as of today. Being from Delhi and working with the government , I easily stigmatised him as a corrupt, dishonest and irresponsible person. I thank  god that I am proven wrong .

Pinkie pinkie what colour…..

The office lift was full with people adorning pink attire. Any rightly so…. it was 8^th March…International Women’s day!!

The state government had issued an order requesting the employees to wear anything pink for this occasion; symbolic of supporting the gender equity. To many of us it seemed to be a Tughlaqui farmaan.  Will things change by adorning pink clothes for one-thousandth of time in a year? I heard few interesting statements throughout the day:

Sarkaari adesh ka paalan toh karna hi padega (have to comply with the government order)

Ek din ke liye gulabi shirt kaun khareede, faltu padi rahegi (why waste money on pink shirt just for a day)

Madam aaj apko kuchh keh bhi nahi payenge, aapka din hain naa (won’t say anything today, it’s your day)

Indian society has very deep routed gender discrimination, most of the time it is passed as social standards. A male Gynaecologist and female Surgeons are still a rare commodity in this part of the globe. Women are socially labeled as bad car drivers and a house-husband (oops … is it not a male version of housewife??) is still a shameful responsibility. To top it up we have modernized the stigma by accepting pink as feminine and blue as masculine colour.

The same day I was screamed at  by a person who was himself driving on a wrong-side. The lady officer in my bay (who was also wearing pink clothes) was ridiculed behind her back for being bossy …aaj mahila diwas chadh gaya hai madam pe (madam is intoxicated by women’s day). Newspaper reported that a man sold his wife on Facebook to repay his debt, a minor girl was raped by her family member.

In the state which tops the country in violence against women, isn’t this wear-pink-bring-gender equity-formula an eyewash? What we need is a social raking and infuse an enlightened thinking in our new generation. We need to teach our girls how to behave, yes of course ………but more so to our boys.

A Marathi poetess Ms Anuradha Mhapankar has aptly written:

Baipana che aaj majhya kautuk tumhi karne nako

Kartutva che aaj majhya vajan tumhi tolne nako

(Don’t flaunt my womanhood just for a day, don’t judge my ability just for a day)

Few years back on a women’s day the chief guest (a bureaucrat’s wife) said: “I’m waiting for a day when we shall celebrate Human day.” (applause)

The burning birthing train

We are born in others’ pain and perish in our own

This statement is so true not only in the worldly sense but also in spiritual one. Empathetic outlook helps in understanding where the shoe pinches. Sometimes the situation engulfs you in such a way that there is no option other than to feel the pricks. The experience can be traumatic or enlightening depending upon the outcome.

It was late January morning in 1990 when I boarded the train at 10.30. Gwalior experiences chilling cold during winters. I was 5 months pregnant and tired with the continuous exchange long duties in the hospital in order to get 3 days compensatory off. With my swollen feet and 9 gm Hb (!!), I had to travel to Bhopal to attend one of the many ceremonies to be held in the first year of marriage. Thanks god, it was the last one of the series. With lack of sleep and physical awkwardness experienced in the first pregnancy, I was irritable. To top it up, I had outgrown all my clothes and didn't have enough time to buy new ones. Aradhna solved my problem by handing over 2 oversized dresses.

My maasi (mom’s elder sister) was accompanying me for two reasons. First, I was in second trimester and second, she was like a mother to me. I didn’t agree to celebrate anything in her absence. She was a woman with very average looks. Being a high school teacher, her students (exclusively girls) were everywhere on the earth- in market, at the railway station, in the marriage…She was an ideal for her students, but more than that she meant a lot to me and my siblings. She never got married due to her plain looks and the fact that she wore spectacles. My grandmother stopped expecting of getting her married after few bitter experiences. I always pity that non-existent family of my maasi who could have benefitted from her wisdom, intelligence, culinary skills and other life-skills.

We settled at the window seat. We were the only female passengers in the compartment. With my obvious protrusion, the co-passengers gave enough space for me to lie down. Being assured that I am comfortable, maasi settled down to finish the woollen pullover she was knitting for Arvind. Sleep deprivation and rhythmic motion of the train cradled me to deep sleep. I could smell the spirit and liquor in the labour room. I was dreaming about preparation being done in OT. The woman was very nervous as she was told that her baby is sinking. Being a house surgeon, patients felt at ease to talk to me. She was holding my hand very tight. I was trying to tell her not to worry and let me go and get scrubbed for the caesarean. My senior was scolding one of the interns for not matching details of the blood unit –“how can you be so callous? It’s a human life that we are dealing here. Let the experience lead to a mechanical management of routine situation and not groom insensitivity.” Suddenly the woman let out a loud shriek and was shaking me vigorously.

I woke up with a startle. Maasi  was shaking me up, with the co-passengers looking at me expectantly. There was a lean teenage boy standing in the passage. He had tears in his eyes and lump in the throat. He was escorting his full term sister from Jhansi to Ganjbasoda. As it was her third pregnancy with two living daughters, the in-laws were not ready to bear expenses of this delivery. She was in active labour now and we were the only females in the compartment. “I don’t have any experience of childbirth, but my niece here is a doctor” maasi informed him. Now I could infer their expressions, I was being looked upon as the saviour. My throat started choking under the pressure. I am trained to deliver a baby in ideal situation, can I do anything here? But I was not left with any other choice than facing the music.

The boy led me to the toilet where I was horrified by the scene. I could see the baby’s head, another contraction and it will be out!! There was no time to take the lady back to the compartment. I have to do something. Its right or wrong will be decided retrospectively. In the small 4x4 space I squeezed myself with the only aim to catch the baby when it delivers. One lapse and it can slide down the toilet.

What is the normal birthing process? What did my magician obstetrics teacher Dr Oliyai has taught me? Childbirth is a natural process. Do not interfere it, support it. My eyes were fixed upon the baby. It rotated and delivered in what seemed to be eternity. It was a tiny girl with wide eyes. Her body reflected position of her mother in the family but her eyes were blazing with life. (God! let the placenta deliver and spare me with the nightmare of bleeding!)

“Can somebody get me a clean blade and a thread, and some clean cloth too?” I yelled to the compartment without losing focus on the baby in my hand. It was quite a balancing act to sit on toes in a rocking enclosed space with your hands full with a slimy active life. Till now the men were stand-still and stupefied with the experience they were encountering. Suddenly everybody started responding to my request. Somebody sacrificed a new blade from his shaving kit, maasi handed over wool strand to tie the cord, few male handkerchiefs replaced sanitary pads, a bath towel was generously given to wrap the baby.

I was holding the slippery cord in my hand and massaging uterus with the other. Don’t pull the cord , Keep one hand on the abdomen. Put baby to the breast, it will help in uterine contraction and expulsion of the placenta. It seems that Usha sister- the labour room incharge was overlooking the process and giving me instructions. I followed all of them obediently. The placenta was kept in an empty mithai  box . Always examine the placenta for its completeness. I carried the baby and asked maasi to escort the exhausted mother upto the berth. The baby was put to breast while I kept on massaging the uterus till I was sure that it was hard. It was the first time that I looked at the woman. She was worried as again a daughter was born. At the same time she expressed mute obligation for supporting her during the difficult time. The whole compartment rejoiced when the young boy brought the baby out to show them.

Suddenly I felt drained. With limp legs I came back to the seat. My enxiety and apprehension seems to be transmitted to the life inside me and I could feel excessive foetal kicks. I started crying with an unexplained mixed feeling. I was afraid, horrified, shocked, happy, elated, relieved, worried…. Co-passengers were understanding enough to let me settle down . Baby and the mother got down at their destination. The young boy came to me and touched my feet without saying a word. We all were overwhelmed with emotions for different reasons.

The train Ticket Collector came to know about the incidence. He was very overt to show the appreciation and gratitude. Later I got a letter from him which was written reiterating the feelings he had expressed earlier. That letter is still a source of motivation whenever I have the doubt and start asking myself the question- What can I do alone?

Young Indian

“I'd rather die my way than live yours.”  Lauren Oliver, Delirium

                                                                                                                                                                     Manoj Keer is a young Indian adult, so inconspicuous that he can easily be missed out in mob. This average single built man visits us once in 2-3 months on a motorbike. His signature attire is a dark coloured terelyne trouser with once-a-white shirt; either lines or checks. The worn out socks are hidden beneath old and mended shoes. The bag-pack has a water-bottle and many sets of rope bundles in it.  

In the first visit I was about to shoo him away considering him as one of the MBA- Marketing students from a third-grade college mushroomed in the city . Many times I had fallen prey to their educational needs.

‘I am not here to sell anything. Rather, I am here to make you part of my entrepreneurship.’

His sophisticated and clear communication made an instant impression. And so did his pearly white teeth against the dusky complexion.  

Manoj is an arts graduate and resident of Raisen district. He collects, rather buys, old newspapers, books, notebooks, magazines and make envelops out of them. He along with 3 more friends have identified groups of women in slums.  The raw material is supplied to them to make envelopes for ½ and 1 kg quantity. The women are paid per 100 envelopes made.  

‘I am earning more than any job that a person with my education will get. Moreover, I am independent. The biggest satisfaction is I am providing livelihood to many others. As a citizen I am also able to work towards environment conservation.’ He is professional-satisfaction and self-pride personified.  

During our chat he revealed that recently he got a huge order from a Pune based company. Motivated by this, he is now thinking of making envelopes of other sizes including paper shopping bags. He is also exploring diversifying  into collection of e-waste .

In a recent address on Start-up India , PM Modi had aptly said ‘Government should stop interfering and the Indian youth will do fabulously well.’

Tippy tap

My work takes me to various places across Madhya Pradesh and sometimes to other states. Every visit makes me learn something, how people adjust to life in a relentless environment, a basic act may have a specific connotation. It helps me to understand humanity and empathise while being connected to the roots. A recent such visit to few villages surprised me pleasantly, rethink over the intricate social fabric and also devour the nature in its purest form. 

8 km of rocky stretch to reach  forest village Mathar. We met a group of villagers at the start of road. They reached the village when we were travelling back after half-an-hour. They carried groceries, vegetables on the head and were busy in chatting with each other. The dense forest is abode of tiger, but the life goes on 

The discrimination is interwoven in our lives. Sometimes it is so much part of it that we do not even notice the subtle hints. The data can tell us how much discrimination is percolated in the society.  In two Anganwadis, the growth chart tattled on gender discrimination.  In the growth chart weight of children upto 5 years is plotted every month to prevent the child’s slippage in malnutrition. Girls’ weight is plotted on pink portion while the blue is for boys’ weight recording. Thanks to the British!       

In a peri urban area, there re lesser girls than boys. Girls are more malnourished than boys as more girls are either just on the border of normal zone , many have already slipped in the malnutrition zone and girls are in danger zone 3 times more than the boys. When are we going to bridge this?

The tribal and forest village Mathaar shows far less gender discrimination. It is evident from the more number of girls as compared to boys. There is hardly any difference in the weight distribution amongst boys and girls. 

Things are not bleak everywhere , all the time. There are few pleasant surprises which lightens your day and the mood. The Anganwadi was a model one with neat , clean and child friendly structure. There was an amphitheater for children to do stage performances. The most interesting thing was the Tippy tap!

It’s a low cost innovation to teach children handwashing

in a playful way

The child operates the wooden fulcrum which  sills water from the can. It prevents water wastage as well

Blind race

DB mall at 8.30 am was very deserted . Gradually the place started swelling up with people. Occasion was that of a special car rally where route navigator will be a visually challenged person. It is organized by an organization called Arushi which works for children with special needs. The money collected would be go to the organization as charity.   

This year I decided to participate in this  decade old annual event. Thanks to Rohini who volunteered to take care of my registration procedure.  Excitement overpowered sense of charity. At the start-off venue there were various types of cars. Some were vintage treasured only for such special events, jazzy cars like Porsche flaunted its existence, special Bhopali jeeps with exotic makeover, luxury cars, medium to expensive range of 8-seaters, but the regular category cars being in majority. Car owners were of matching personalities fully dressed for the event. A mini bus pulled in at the venue and all the eager eyes turned towards it . This vehicle brought in our navigators. A coordinator facilitated them to get out of the bus and made them sit on the steps. Soon they were flocked around by the drivers to get connected with their own navigator.

The Police band started playing a melodious tune. It was an indication that the rally was soon to start as the chief guest was on his way for the flag-off. Being a novice I was trying to understand rule of the game. Each car is provided with the speed regulation rules and a route map at the time of flag-off, all –in- braille. The navigator will first explain you how much to speed for which sector. Then gradually s/he will read the route map. Driver has to concentrate on speed limit and the route as sometimes landmarks are symbolically described along with.

My navigator was a young boy from Gorakhpur. He was studying in std XI with Political science, Geography and economics as his subjects. It was a full time school in Bhopal. Ashish aspires to do a course in Masters of Social work. I was amazed to see his ease in operating a cell phone, many of them are expert in using touch screen also.

It was a unique experience being instructed by a visually challenged person. We got lost at few occasions, circled and circled at one place initially due to poor coordination, went on the correct path and felt motivated. But we enjoyed our complementarity thoroughly. Along the way we chatted and came to know about each other, thrilled over our correct routes and consoling each other on a wrong move. Towards the end we were so comfortable with each other that we have decided to be the winning  pair next year .

In recent years the facility of audio books has negatively affected capability to read braille. However, the facilities offered to the specially challenged population are very less in comparison to the liveliness of these human beings who make it their own responsibility to live life to the fullest. I realized that we pity them as they are unable to see the world from our standards , but they see the world in a more meaningful way. For them the world is really nirgun, nirakar  which is the centre of Vedic philosophy.  

Aboli

January 2016

Tanuj

It was a pleasant morning. Warm interiors of the hotel restaurant was bustling with breakfast activity. Soft clutter of cutlery, whispers and low tone laughs were indicative of polished and sophisticated gentry within. Along with my colleagues, I was stopping over in this hotel while enroute to a tribal district in western Madhya Pradesh.

As its name, Hotel Lemon Tree had a citrus ambience. The waiting staff in the restaurant was dressed up in lemon coloured uniform. The room was filled with gastronomical smell emerging from variety of food mixed with faint fruity odour. We settled down at a table placed in a sunny corner of the room. Deep in our discussion on the tribals, government policies on social inclusion, mainstreaming of the marginalized population etc. , we were analyzing the policies with a social lens; how the seem-to-be-straight-and-implementable policy has bearing on the society to make an informed choice. The young waiting staff was efficiently moving around the room taking orders, placing needed things on the table, clearing the plates. Everything was happening in perfect unison without giving anybody a chance to wait for any demand.

My colleague reckoned a staff as he wanted an extra sachet of sugar. A young, handsome boy with left ear pierce with a diamond stud immediately attended us with a pleasant smile stuck on his face. His lapel plate announced him to be Tanuj. He indicated to a tag around his neck which said:

I am dumb and deaf, please point out the article you need from the list here.

The list contained food items, consumables, cutlery, which was exhaustive in all probabilities.

For a second we all were puzzled and started looking around for a ‘normal’ help. Tanuj stood there confident, smiling and expecting us to place our order, holding the neck tag list close to our faces for our convenience. My colleague put a finger on the item which said sugar sachet. Within minutes extra sugar sachets were delivered at our table. We had the lower jaw dropped in amazement, to which Tanuj was oblivious and carried out errands in perfect composure.

Coming out of our table-talk, I studied the surroundings. I could spot three staff with the similar tags around their necks. Without conscious attention, it was difficult to spot these young fellows who were carrying out their responsibility with equal professionalism as others. We were amazed, surprised but extremely satisfied to see such beautiful mainstreaming in a corporate setting. Sometimes in social development sector equity and social inclusion terms are used very loosely befitting to the society’s convenience. But here I witnessed a perfect example of  it .