Jingles all the way

I went to the local Anglican church with Dr Neela Onawale, the director of DGS. It’s a colonial building next to the old British army cantonment, which is now home to the Indian Army’s Southern Command. Though she was a child at Independence, Dr Neela still remembers the British ceremonial processions that took place on Sunday mornings. When the pomp was over the officers and their families would come to this church to worship.

Pune was once the most important army base of the British Raj. The church is full of the plaques and memorials you’d find in any English church – remembering lots of posh folks from familiar villages, many of whom ‘died at Poonah’ (the colonial spelling of Pune). A large proportion were younger than I am now when they died, usually victims of malaria or battle. One large brass plaque reminds us of the segregation that was rife at the time with its reference to the ‘Officers British and native’.

The plaques struck me as a strange kind of relic in a church now populated by saris and bare feet.

The service was just like any you would find in an Anglican church at home, though at nearly two hours it was at the longer end of the scale. The liturgy followed the Book of Common Prayer and the hymns were very familiar. The tunes were more of a surprise and it took me a few seconds to place them: ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ and ‘It Came Upon a Midnight Clear’, belted out in the searing heat. Apparently the musical director selects melodies to accompany each Sunday’s hymns according to their popularity. And Christmas has all the best tunes.

 (My father's namesake. Either a strange spelling of Stewart, or the engraver had a moment of confusion)

Even beyond church Yuletide ditties seem to be all the rage here – from mobile ring tones to fridges. I am woken up with a dose in irony each morning by truck with its ‘vehicle reversing’ warning set to ‘Silent Night’. In the office I often hear an electronic rendition of ‘Joy to the World’ coming in through the open window. I haven’t yet worked out what kind of device it comes from. Where I live the fridge sings a slightly less festive ‘It’s a small world after all’ if you leave the door open for more than five seconds. I can’t imagine a jingle better placed to ensure you close the door quickly.

Back to church: The theme of the service was healing, and the sermon was delivered by a local doctor. He focused on preventing health problems through a healthy lifestyle. I do like present-day relevance in a sermon. The congregation was urged to get some sun, ‘even five minutes a day’, and to keep away from skin lightening creams (popular in colour-conscious India). Getting more sun struck me as an unusual message after all the years I worked on the SunSmart campaign in the UK, but it was a useful reminder that each country has its own health issues to contend with. 

(This one is from the Anglican cathedral in Bombay)

Street signs

Some Indian street signs that have caught my eye.

No other property advertisement can compete with that oxymoron. But property is big business in Pune, one of the fastest growing cities in India. The population is currently around 4 million and is projected to rise to a London-esque 7 million by 2030. 

(so it's not just London where people move home to get places at good schools)

(Certainly a dream for the family living underneath)

Once you've found a home befitting your status you can enlist help to move:

And if you've still got a bit of cash to spare:

Ambition starts young in India:

And in no particular order, starting with Ms Winslet's new parlour:

You can't argue with this claim:

I'm going to try to commit point 5 to memory:

(In that order?)

What a joy to be in a land where the meat eater is a second class citizen requiring dedicated outlets:

The army recruitment posters hit hard:

I'll stick with my favourite mantra:

Childhood reclaimed

The Deep Griha Society runs a home for destitute children called City of Child. I’ve been fortunate enough to spend a number of days there, teaching a group of boys who have a big English exam coming up. It’s a big deal for them. When they leave school they will be taken back to Pune to live in a hostel and find their way in the world. Passing their exams is a ticket to a better life.

The home is in the village of Kasurdi, 45km away from Pune. The project targets some of the most vulnerable children from Pune’s slums, identified by Deep Griha’s fieldworkers. The children (boys and girls up to puberty, boys only afterwards) are all either orphans or come from single-parent families who are unable to provide sufficient care for them. The kids get a safe home where they can study, play and develop.

I found it very moving to see 35 children of such a range of ages living together in such a tight knit community. There’s a great atmosphere. I would judge there to be just the right amount of discipline. The day is sufficiently structured to keep the children busy, but they don’t have all the pointless roll calls and enforced shoe polishing I remember from boarding school.

After getting up all of the kids get involved in cleaning their shared home, sweeping up leaves from the paths in a ten-minute burst of activity. It was lovely to see the youngest resident, Guru (five-and-a-half), happily piling up plastic chairs and really getting into the spirit of the place.

I found it hard to believe that the kids could smile when I heard about some of their backgrounds. One boy ended up at City of Child after his father doused his mother in kerosene and set her alight. Sadly this is quite a frequent crime in parts of India, often linked to issues over dowry payments. I just today heard of a similar case in Pune. The victim was a relative of an employee at DGS. Her husband came home drunk and set her alight. She died in hospital two weeks later after getting an infection in the dirty public ward. 


A horrific crime, yet nothing will happen to the husband. After the police and ambulance arrived to attend to the woman’s screams, she immediately told them it had been an accident of her own doing. So impossibly sad, and a reminder to me when I look at all the colour that there's a darker side to India. 

On a brighter note, this chap is a City of Child success story. Kishur lived at the residence for many years, passed his exams and now teaches at Deep Griha’s English-medium school close to City of Child. He still lives at the residence during the week and is a great role model for this remarkable group of kids.

If anyone would like to sponsor a child you can make a huge difference by doing so. For a modest annual donation you can provide a child with a balanced nutrition-rich daily meal, educational materials, clothes and shoes, medical care and a birthday party. You’ll also get progress reports. I’m certainly going to sponsor a child when I leave India, and I can testify that the money is well spent. You can read more here:

http://deepgriha.org/index.php/programmes/aadhar-kendra

Janjira Fort

I've posted some photos here:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150709996724085.456690.562699084&type=1&l=88c12a68a2