Thirty Things I Learned in Thirty Days
I began this series with a notebook, a deadline, and the hazy certainty that I could somehow speak about kids living in shelter homes. I…
Thirty Things I Learned in Thirty Days
I began this series with a notebook, a deadline, and the hazy certainty that I could somehow speak about kids living in shelter homes. I conclude the series less sure but more honest.
These are the things I learned in the past thirty days.
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Dignity is not a theme. It is a commitment.
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It is easy to feel pity. It is even easier to write it.
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Every child I’ve written about has had a name. That has never been incidental.
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Kaveri taught me that silence is not nothingness. At times, it can be the loudest kind of patience.
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Kasturi taught me that joy requires no permission.
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Kamal taught me that a forgotten boy will still find other ways to get noticed. Maybe we ought to notice him first.
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Raju taught me that humour can be both armour and an invitation.
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Shelter homes or orphanages aren’t necessarily sad places. They are places where tragedy occurs, but then life goes on. This is not the same thing.
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Being called “an orphan” is a heavy burden for a kid to carry.
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There is no saving grace here, no redeemers; the greatest volunteers realise this.
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Being consistent is a more radical form of activism than any fiery passion you may feel; what’s important is that you show up again, every Tuesday, even without the cameras.
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Children take note of everything; they remember who is still there.
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Trying to tell a story of vulnerability when you do not share that same vulnerability is a process of translation; something will be lost along the way.
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Those that proved difficult to write down are the ones closest to truth.
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No child is “too young to understand.” They understand everything. They just don’t have the words yet. That is our job.
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“Awareness” becomes a buzzword unless it turns into tangible action.
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At first, I thought that the antithesis of neglect is care. I realise now, it is attention.
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Someone whom another person has seen sees the world differently, walks and thinks and reads and writes differently.
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Format does make a difference. List versus letters, dialogues versus scenes. Our children deserve everything we can give them, including all our literary forms.
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The children about whom I’ve been writing didn’t ask me to do so; I hope I did them justice.
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Sometimes words come easily. This wasn’t always a good sign. It didn’t mean I was writing great things.
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Sometimes I’d sit with nothing but a blank sheet of paper in front of me for an entire hour. This wasn’t always bad.
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Not being a social worker or a policy expert makes no difference to being a writer. Words build rooms before walls are even erected.
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Every piece I wrote was, in essence, the same piece: This child matters. Do you see them?
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One cannot write thirty days straight about children without affecting how one moves about in the world. I’m slower. More observant.
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The crow that comes into my writing keeps coming back because it’s always there — on windowsills, atop compound walls, watching. I think I finally understand what it was watching for.
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Endings are harder than beginnings. Beginnings only need courage. Endings need honesty.
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This series ends today. But Project Sneh and Unessa Foundation do not.
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If you have even read one piece out of these thirty, then you are in this. It is not because you feel guilty but because you are being invited.
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The door is still open. Someone needs to continue knocking.
Thank you for thirty days.
To know more, visit https://unessafoundation.org/
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