SURYA AND THE DUST AT THE FEET OF BRAMA

 Officially, the caste system ended in 1950, when the first Indian Constitution was adopted after British rule. But we are all fed up with knowing the difference between the letter of the law and real life, especially if that system was based on rules and practices that are more than three millennia old. A caste is a hereditary social group, in which the condition of the individual passes from parents to children, marking their existence with such determinism that each one can only marry and form a family with a person from their own group. In India, the four main groups were (and still are, particularly in rural areas) the Brahmins (priests and scholars), the Kshatriyas (military men), the Vaishyas (merchants) and the Sudras (peasants and workers). This division is based on the body of Brahma, the first God of the Hindu trinity: thus, the Brahmins would have been born from Brahma's head, the Kshatriyas from his arms, the Vaishas from his legs and the Sudras from his feet. But there was still dust beneath the feet of the God and there, so low that they do not even constitute a group, would be the Dalits, the untouchables, untouchable because the fact that they are touched defiles whoever touches them... As is natural, one of the professions most associated with this sub-people is cleaning up other people's shit and this role is also passed down from parents to children. If I clean latrines, my son will dig toilets, as will my grandson and their wives, and so it will be until the end of time. A shitty fate.

In 1997, a man named Abraham George decided to roll up his sleeves and do something that could change and, above all, demonstrate the lack of foundation of a previously established destiny and overcome the apparent impossibility of breaking this cycle of poverty and misery. Despite his name, Abraham George is a native of South India who made his life and fortune on Wall Street in the United States. One day, in his early fifties, George sold the company, packed his bags, returned to India, and applied his wealth and organizational and management experience to a project called Shanti Bavhan. It's not so easy to define Shanti Bavhan, as it's not one of those indulgent charity projects that drops a few crumbs, takes a few quick English courses and walks away, tax deductions included. Shanti Bavhan's very conception made the link between promoters and beneficiaries definitive. Let me see if I can explain. Shanti Bavhan's first school is based in Tamil Nadu, southern India, and is designed to accommodate children from untouchable families. He takes them in, at the request of their parents, at the age of four or five and only lets them go when they get their first job, some seventeen or eighteen years later. A long-term project and commitment, therefore. Children begin living on the organization's premises, where they attend kindergarten, then primary school and then secondary school. They live there as a boarding school, but at least twice a year, during the holidays, they return to their parents' house, so that they can maintain contact with their family and the community they come from. Later they enter the universities that exist in India, to which they applied using the usual national method, continuing their studies and stay in the big cities, which are paid for and accompanied by Shanti Bavhan. When they graduate and begin to fly on their own wings, the organization expects them to return the human capital and knowledge accumulated to the village where they come from, helping to raise the standard of living of its people. 

 I came into contact with all of this through a Netflix documentary (miniseries) called Daughters of Destiny. This documentary, very illustrative and cleverly-made, follows the lives of four or five girls, from when they were little until the day they finished their university studies and started working, one as a lawyer, another as a journalist, another as a nurse. It shows everything that is important and, sometimes, it is hard to watch what our eyes see, because it is not one of those cheesy scenes that TV likes to push on us, whether to sell dog food, hamburgers or subscriptions to the latest generation fiber optic devices. There is hope for a tomorrow that sings, yes, but the singing is sometimes hoarse, croaking and sad and if the little child fails to take advantage repeatedly he is made to walk away to make room for someone else. They all have the right to a chance, but it is a unique chance. It's a tough, very tough journey and one of Dr. Kennedy sons, already born in America and on welfare, who is preparing to take over what his father started, complains about the harshness of the rules; has doubts... One or another of the girls, in that series, also has doubts, feels that the project has torn her in half, divided her, she can no longer return to the village and the family she came from and knows that the school, in Shanti Bavhan, cannot give her shelter forever: one of them even develops anger towards Dr. George. It's hard to grow up, it's hard to live, the portion is sometimes bitter. But before our attentive and moved eyes, the value of the initiative and its global success were demonstrated and, indeed, in the end, an untouchable can go as far as any other human being. It's all about opportunity, as Dr. Abraham George stated when he decided to commit to all this.

I know India reasonably well (although it’s hard to use the term, because, in its greatness and diversity, one never gets to know India, not even reasonably well) and watching that documentary affected me enough that, in the following days, I went to spy on the Internet the organization's pages. How could I make any contribution to something so well thought out, so serious and so useful? Shanti Bavhan's website answers any questions we may have as it is also very well thought out and presented. The interested party can donate money in whatever way they are most interested in: they can contribute to the equipment of a classroom, they can contribute to paying for the solar generators that heat the water in the buildings, they can help buy towels for a dormitory or, if they prefer, they can dedicate the contribution to the education and maintenance (food, clothing, etc.) of a child. They also accept volunteers for work, but warn that they will be ruthlessly selected and that life is hard there: they are also well aware of the plague of instant solidarity, which runs out after two days or when it is realized that there is no hanger to hang the fur coats...

I ended up opting for the contribution dedicated to one child: the price was around 1,600 euros/year and that included everything: daily food, medical care, school supplies, clothing, teaching of all subjects (from English to mathematics, through science, computing and music). All! Around 140 euros per month. A few days later I was informed by mail that my donation had been linked to a boy named Surya. They sent me a photo of a cute, smiling little boy who was opening his palms to me in a gesture of welcome and gratitude. Along with the photo were a few lines about Surya: he was five years old, had just entered Shanti Bavhan, was from a village near Bangalore, his father was a well-digger and her mother was at home with his younger sister. As for Surya, a kindergarten student, he had some difficulties with math and English and really liked to draw elephants, fish and bananas; he also liked playing with puppies. I wrote back, thanking for the information I had received, sending several photographs of elephants that I had taken in India, and asking if they could be delivered to Surya. I was told "no", at least not directly. For the protection of children, direct communication between them and people who contribute to their education is prohibited. In any case, the photos would be shown by the teacher to the class Surya attends. I thought it was OK, the daily lives of those girls and boys must be protected from outside invasion, otherwise it could turn into a circus of exposure, vanity (from the donors), etc.

Now Surya is nine years old and has already started the third grade of elementary school. Every now and then they send me a little report on his progress, a photo of him, or a drawing he made. It has been three years now and I recently sent a contribution to support Surya's stay at Shanti Bavhan for another year. Not that my money is essential for him to stay there and be supported until he becomes an adult and gets his first job, because, fortunately, the organization is not dependent on me! But I enjoy doing it and I find myself hoping that the winds will be good for Surya and that one day later, with confidence, he will be able to blow the dust that remains from Brahma's feet from his hands.

Notes: Daughters of Destiny can be seen on Netflix; 

            Shanti Bavhan's website is at: https://www.shantibhavanchildren.org

            © elephant photography: pedro serrano, Udaipur (India), 2013.