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Shobha Ramswamy
The red compartments of a long-distance
train pull into Mumbai Central station. Oblivious to
the ensuing pandemonium, Basavraj Utthnu stands in a
corner, calmly scanning the platform. He is here neither
to receive a loved one nor to bid a friend goodbye.
His purpose is far more altruistic. As passengers scramble
towards the exit, a teenager with a red knapsack on
his shoulder catches Utthnus attention. Seemingly
alone, the boy fishes out a tiny notepad from his bag
and hesitantly approaches a coolie. Intuitively, Utthnu
walks towards the boy.
Conversation with the boy reveals that he is Manik
Mondal, a fifteen-year-old from Burdwan, West Bengal,
who has come to Mumbai to meet his elder brother, an
employee of a local hotel. Young Manik does not have
his brothers complete address, has no money and
speaks only Bengali. He is vulnerable enough to fall
into the wrong hands and suffer terrible consequences
as a result. Fortunately for him, help is at hand. Utthnu
immediately makes him comfortable and assures him that
he is not alone. He also calls for a Bengali translator
so that the boy can feel confident about his safety
and hope to be united with his brother soon.
"It is all in a days work," says Utthnu,
an officer with the Raichur-based Sathi or the Society
for Assisting Children in Difficult Situations, which
helps runaway or lost children to find their way home.
Rarely do children realise the dangers that await the
lone and lost on railway platforms. Generally, these
children are confused, scared, insecure and uncomfortable
in their new surroundings. Often, they may be found
crying and huddled together in dark corners of the platform,
unsure of what to do next. Even children who have run
away from home sometimes lose their nerve.
Their vulnerability leads them to trust anyone who
tries to befriend them. These friends often
morph into brokers for prostitutes or networks of beggars
and child labourers. Often the desperate need to satisfy
hunger pangs forces them to have recourse to begging
or sweeping trains. The more enterprising ones begin
to sell newspapers, mineral water etc or become shoeshine
boys. Their earnings see them through. Sometimes they
earn upwards of Rs 100 every day. But the constant threat
of addictions to alcohol or drugs, apart from the fear
of being swept into the world of crime, makes them deeply
vulnerable. Caught in the web, the childs innocence
is lost forever.
Tracking runaways
Connecting the length and breadth of India, trains are
the easiest mode of transport in India. "Railways
give the child the freedom to alight and depart at will.
In fact, in a year a runaway can travel the whole of
this country. That is why, we operate only on the platforms
as it is the first-point contact with the child,"
says Pramod Kulkarni, secretary and founder of Sathi.
Officers of the organisation patrol the platforms of
Mumbai Central, Wadi, Guntakal, Mantralaya, Pune, CST
Terminus and Raichur.
Established in 1992, Sathis objective is to keep
children away from railway platforms by providing them
with food and shelter. Towards this end, the children
were trained to repair bicycles and make agarbattis,
skills that would do much to promote financial self-sufficiency.
At times, they were placed as apprentices to bakers
or printers. Despite the good intentions, the programme
was not very successful. Many children chose to return
to life on the platforms.
The experience was not without lessons for Sathi. Says
Kulkarni, "We realised that we had not addressed
the core problem. A child without a family is rootless.
Only the love of a family and the security of a home
can infuse stability into a childs life."
It was at this point that the organisation started home
placements. Over the years, Sathi has repeatedly proved
sceptics wrong by uniting over 3,400 children with their
families back home.
A recent survey revealed that 82 per cent of the children
who were sent home have made no second attempt to run
away. The good intentions of Sathi are finally being
justified. In Pune, Parshuram Sukhales eyes light
up on seeing Dattatrey, his grandson. The boy, then
studying in the ninth standard, had run away from home,
following a tiff with his cousin.
Fortunately for the boy, Sathi officers picked him
up on the very day he arrived at Pune station. Dattatreys
family was informed of his whereabouts through a telegram.
Meanwhile, Sukhale, a poor farmer, had spent a considerable
amount of money looking for his grandson in nearby villages.
After Sathi brought about an emotional reunion, Dattatrey
confessed that he would never leave home again. "It
is this touching heart-warming moment that keeps us
going," says Lakshman Manjulkar, who has been working
with Sathis Pune chapter for the last six years.
Locating homes
Eight-year-old Bharat Rajkumar had been living on railway
platforms for over four months when Sathi picked him
up at Raichur station. He had run away from his Latur
home because his parents wanted to admit him to a hostel,
a few miles away. Forced to keep body and soul together
by begging, he confesses candidly, "I remember
my mother. I want to go home, but I will not go the
hostel. If they send me there, I will run away again."
On an average, at least five to eight children find
their way to Pune station every day. The situation at
other railway junctions is almost the same; the figures
differ only slightly. Runaway boys far exceed girls
(around five in a month). The reason for leaving home
could vary from failing in a maths test to fearing punishment
for stealing money from home. School-related issues
are the most common excuses for leaving home. A large
number of children come to the city in search of jobs
to escape the harsh poverty of their homes. Some run
away to become film stars, while others are attracted
to the glitz and glamour associated with cities like
Mumbai.
The organisation has worked with states like Assam,
Bihar, Rajasthan. It has also worked in Nepal. It is
normally believed that a runaway is either an orphan
or comes from a broken or neglected home. Shattering
the myth, Kulkarni discloses that in almost 80 per cent
of the cases, the child has both parents alive and comes
from a loving, warm home. "Exceptions do exist.
But they are far and few between," he adds.
Another busted myth is that only children from poor
homes run away from home. Actually, about 30 per cent
of runaway children come from educated and well-to-do
homes. Nine-year-old Sohan Prasad, son of a military
officer, lived in the Pune Cantonment area. He was found
at the Daund railway station, trying to catch a Bangalore-bound
train. At the shelter, the child revealed that he had
run away from home because his father had scolded him
for not doing his school homework properly.
Sathis job isnt simply a matter of asking
children for addresses and sending them there. Children
are known to lie or give incomplete addresses. In such
cases, the Sathi officer takes the child to the shelter
or police station (in the absence of a shelter). Every
detail is recorded and the child is sent to the remand
home. At the shelter or remand home, the child is not
bombarded with questions. "We chat, play and relax
with the child. The aim is to win the childs trust,"
says Vidya Dhende, superintendent, Pune Remand Home.
The parents are informed through phone calls or telegrams.
Occasionally, the errant child is personally escorted
home by a staff member and a police constable. R. S.
Kondalkar, inspector, Pune Railway Police Station, agrees.
He says, "There is a very thin line dividing the
good from the bad on the platforms. In this context,
Sathis work assumes great importance."
Building bridges
Irfan was five when he left home with some grownups.
After nearly a decade on the platform, he remembers
very little about his home and family. He has virtually
travelled the whole country, sold newspapers and water
and tried every drug available on platforms. Sathi camps
helped him to break free of the vicious cycle, from
which there seemed no escape.
Today, Irfan works as a counsellor with the organisation.
His main function is to advise runaways to return home
and to start attending school regularly. His only dream
is to revisit his home and family.
Months or years on a platform can harden a child mentally.
A child who has lived on the platform cannot be convinced
to return home by mere words alone. One-month orientation
camps are held to rejuvenate the dormant feelings of
attachment to the family. The camps involve in-group
counselling, meditation and various other fun activities.
Very subtly, the hazards of a life lived on a railway
platform are conveyed to the children. "Surprisingly,
even after spending years on the platform, the child
yearns to go home. Truly, there is no place like home,"
says Kulkarni of his experience from holding 50 such
camps. Out of 301 children, who attended these camps
during the past year, 268 children were successfully
sent home.
Sathi spends almost Rs 2,000 to send a child home.
To promote initiatives to educate out-of-school children,
the Sir Ratan Tata Trust supports Sathi in its efforts
to advise runaways to return home. The Trust has been
partnering the organisation since 1996 and contributing
over 50 per cent to its annual budget. Since then, the
cumulative contribution has been to the tune of Rs 44
lakh through two grants. In the third phase, the Trust
will disburse a grant of Rs 150 lakh in three years.
Every large city has its own population of runaway
or lost children. Ideally the organisation needs to
expand to all metro railway stations. Therefore, it
has started partnering with other non-governmental organisations
like Yuva, Childline and Don Bosco, among others, to
bring about a synergy of efforts. High on the agenda
are railway stations in places like Chennai, Nashik
and Goa. "Remember," says Kulkarni, "a
child is a child. And every child needs to be at home."
The joy that comes of effecting a successful reunion
between children and their families encourages Sathi
to continue at its worthy task. Its intervention has
saved numerous children from being sucked into a dangerous
world. For the homeless and lost child on the railway
platforms, Sathi will ever be a real friend.
Uploaded
on February 18, 2004

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