With the warm comforting sunlight filtering between the dancing leaves on the statuesque trees outside my window, I feel the growth and expansiveness of Spring arriving shortly and the hope that it brings.
I ponder on the thought of my mother living in squalor. In a place of dense population and endless honking horns with not one ounce of greenery or sunlight in her neighborhood. The sun is diffused by the strangulating pollution that blankets the city of Kolkata.
Kolkata is only second in the world to Mumbai in population density with habitation being over 20,000 people per square kilometer. New York has only 2050 per square kilometer.
Tears are restrained and buried in the heaviness in my chest as the conversations I have with my niece Pinky and my mother replay repetitively in my mind. It is a constant reminder of how desperately I need to get them out of their neighborhood. I imagine what their daily existence must be when worrying for their lives and also dealing with all of the other issues of poverty and living in a slum. She makes it clear how they have to go “so far” just to get water. Pinky also tells me stories of people jumping on their balcony and coming into their house to steal anything. The neighbors have had their entire houses cleaned out by people who have come to rob them.
Pinky says so matter of fact “Aunt, I cannot do my studies because there is so much fighting going on outside. The people have guns, one of them has been in the newspaper for doing bad things.” I reply with “oh my god I didn’t know they had guns.” All of this time I wasn’t aware that these neighbors are actually shooting each other too. She says ” we think they are terrorists…”. I am not sure what she means by this but I am really worried about their safety. It has now become even more of an issue of safety, not only about their living conditions. This is my family that is living in this situation, not some actors in a well blocked scene in some film, but my flesh and blood.
Even though Pinky is only twelve years of age her whole existence is education so that she can “live a more civilized life.” She tells me that she wants to be a scientist so that she can take care of her family and live a better life. I want to do anything I can to help her with this dream. These are things that my thirteen year old daughter never has a thought about.
My mother still manages to laugh and with childlike sincerity says “today is happy day, your phone come”. She goes on “I miss you my child, I am so proud of you.” I reply holding back my sadness “I miss you, I am thinking of you all the time.”
It is difficult to live here with my life of comforts and ease and have a family that is struggling so much and that I miss so much. There is not one day that goes by that I am not missing them or scheming on how to go see them or ways to help them.
If only I could just get them a house, I could have some peace knowing that they are living under better circumstances. Then I could rest. Please help me by donating and telling your friends. It does not have to be a large amount, it will add up!
© Pushpa Duncklee and Pushpa’s Blog, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Pushpa Duncklee and Pushpa’s Blog with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Pushpa's Blog 