Kites, cows and education on a street corner

On my first day I visited the Tadiwala slum. I was pretty anxious to see the coalface of Deep Griha Society’s work, especially having wondered all the way to India how I would be able to deal with what I would find.

For my tour I joined a group affectionately known as ‘the DISHA ladies’. DISHA stands for Deep Griha’s Integrated Service for HIV andAIDS. The ladies support people in the slums who have HIV or AIDS, visiting them to make sure they are taking care of themselves, that they are taking their medication, and that they are getting adequate nutrition. They also work hard to raise awareness of HIV in the community.

The DISHA ladies are quite a presence, donning their bright red saris and carry a huge megaphone. After picking a suitable street corner they called out to all and sundry to head over and watch a street play. People came slowly at first. Interest grew considerably when one of the ladies started singing through the megaphone (I wish they could bottle their confidence and sell it). An audience of about 30 (all ages) was then treated to a play dispelling many myths about HIV/AIDS, and addressing the stigma experienced by those who have the condition. The need for raising awareness and removing stigma in India is very high (more on this at a later date).

The slum was completely fascinating, and not at all threatening. While I want to keep my rose-tinted spectacles firmly in my pocket, there was a kind of beauty to it – so much life and colour packed into a small space. I have a lasting image of three boys flying a homemade kite. They were standing on a massive mound of rubbish in order to get clear of the myriad dwellings. The image was very Slumdog Millionaire. Or Kite Runner. Or some flick of that ilk.

There were whole herds of cattle picking through bins for whatever tickles their culinary fancy (the mind boggles). Later I was brought through a government owned apartment block around a square. The block is inhabited by railway workers. Apparently there are many more alcohol and domestic violence issues in these buildings than in the slums - the perils of disposable income. As I walked past a woman emptied her waste paper basket over her balcony and into the general mound in the centre of the square.

The next day I joined the DISHA ladies again at a truckers’ stop out of town. The truckers are a key audience for DISHA. Most truckers are many miles away from their wives and families and many are frequent visitors to Pune’s red light district. 

The ladies gathered the truck drivers under the shade of a tree to watch the play. Acting completed, the ladies made themselves scarce while the truckers gathered around a male member of the DISHA team for a bit of boys’ talk. They listened intently and asked many questions. The outreach is clearly very worthwhile.

What was my role? I held the DISHA ladies’ mobile phones (no pockets in a sari) and offered up my water bottle as a prop (baby in a sling). Now that I’m settled in hopefully I’ll be able to up my contribution.