Beautiful Game

Jesús and I have been running a weekly Sunday morning soccer practice with Manav Sadhna kids in the Gandhi Ashram. From 8-10am we warm up, do drills, and play with any of the slum kids that are interested. Jesús, a fellow soccer fanatic, started the sessions couple months ago, and since I've been here I've joined as coach #2. Personally, I have four motivations for being involved. First, I am anti-cricket and happy to introduce an alternative sport, any alternative, into the lives of these kids. Second, soccer has given so much to me, shaped who I am, that I love to give back to the game by sharing it with others. Third, it's a way to plug myself into Planet Manav Sadhna doing something I'm passionate about. Fourth, it's the best game ever.

We play in Gandhi Ashram outside Manav Sadhna, jockeying for space with the cricket match that's also usually going on. The surface is sand, which is not ideal because of all the dust that gets kicked up and breathed in, but open flat grass areas are few and far between in these parts. Typically we have about 10 kids, but the number is fluid as kids get bored and go play cricket, new ones come, old ones come back, etc. It's a constant flux and flow of players, which is a bit of a problem when you're playing a team game.

But the competitive dynamic with cricket next door is great because it's the ultimate test of how interested the kids are in the game. Right now they are just learning, so it's pretty ugly out there. Just a bunch of little terrors in a crowd kicking the ball in a random direction, chasing, then repeating. Not exactly the beautiful game. But I believe firmly that if they actually played soccer, in the proper way, it would eventually topple cricket.

So we are teaching the game from the fundamentals: dribbling and passing. After two laps around the play area and stretching from neck to quads we do passing drills. Everyone get in a single file line, and I'll pass you the ball and you pass it back. Having the kids pass to each other is too slow because their kicking is wild and the ball is constantly lost. "Ek, beh. Ek, beh. Ek, beh." I yell out repeatedly to get them to think and do two touches. One, receive and trap the ball; two, look up and make a pass with the inside of your foot. Then we have them dribble in a straight line. The drills are all about introducing a sense of control and calm in the body-ball relationship. But the drill they like best is volleys, where we toss it in the air and they let loose with headers. They get really into it, reeling back and letting fly. They also particularly relish chesting it where they just spread eagle their little torsos at the ball to send it back.

After drills I like to play keep-away to hammer at dribbling and passing. Jesús thought it's too abstract with no goal to attack, but I feel it's a necessary intermediate step in the progression from drills to full-on scrimmage. You only earn points by passing. Four passes in a row by your team without the other team breaking it up and you get a point. The game typically degenerates to kick and chase, with points earned by two teammates finding the time to make four quick touches to each other one foot apart before the opposing team comes barreling in. It's a start.

Then scrimmage. By the time it comes the kids are pining to simply play unrestricted for goals. Just like when we were growing up. The game is start and stop, with the ball frequently going out of bounds and no real passing. There is frequent picking up and touching the ball with hands, which is old cricket habits. We beat it out of them by giving one minute penalties in the corner for any hand ball. Also one constant game within the game is fighting. These kids get into fights all the damn time. There are tears (usually from the ones who instigate), and at least two situations a session where someone storms off the field in angered protest. Half of our job is cop, gathering the culprits, making the crying stop, making people say sorry to each other. The other half is doctor/therapist for when a kid takes himself out of the game, sits in a corner, and rubs a cut on his shin. You go over, tell him it will be OK, tell him he was playing so good and he should get back in. So far my favorite kids are Jagdish, a talented player but an untamed hothead (Rooney); Kamal, a diva who basically plays so he can complain that people hit him (Christiano Ronaldo); and Ritesh, the calm elder statesman (Giggs).

Of all the coaches I had in my career, the one this experience brings to mind most is Mike Bland, a 20-something who coached us when we were maybe 12 to 14. I keep thinking how much of a pain we must have been for him to handle all by himself, how remarkable it was that he had us as disciplined as we were, how he probably did a lot more babysitting than I was even conscious of, and how calm he seemed through it all.

There is an organization based in the UK called Football Action which has contacted MS recently about collaborating to bring soccer to Ahmedabad in a big way. They want to fly out, build a legit pitch in the community, hand out equipment and balls, and conduct coaching sessions with the kids all with the aim of spreading the beautiful game and using football as a means of education. It's a great initiative, and we are excited to explore working together. First step is building a critical mass of local interest in the game from kids and coaches, which is work done one practice at a time.

Iza Good Lyfe

More and more I have days like today:

Get to Delhi on a cold foggy morning after 4 hours of bed sleep plus 1.5 hours of meditation/sleep on the plane. Cab to Breakthrough to orient and train the team on using their shiny new Awaaz De voice-radio application. Joining the meeting is a young girl from Lucknow named Archana who will take the reins of the system as the moderator. She is quick to learn, asks good questions, and is sensitive to the nuances of the system. I am brimming with pride as I can see in her eyes that she grasps the implications, the power she now has at her fingertips. A tool to connect, engage, and mobilize an army of 500 youth advocating human rights across UP and beyond. During the meeting I get two comments about the heart pinned on my jacket sleeve, which gives me two separate opportunities to talk about the magical part of the human family we call Manav Sadhna. For the first time, someone gets the double meaning of wearing heart on my sleeve.

After the meeting officially adjourns I'm doing 10 things at once. Debugging and writing in new functionality based on the training, being pulled into meeting with the Breakthrough ED to discuss payment and sign our contract, talking with the ED at Sesame India Workshop to see how possible it is to scale up their deployment to set up infrastructure in Maharashtra, arranging to present Awaaz De at the upcoming mobile technology conference they are hosting. Indicative of how busy I've been the last month-plus. One day this week I skipped lunch because there was literally no gap in work at the office between coding and people coming in to have meetings. Tracking todos in three different ways on my computer. Time is so scarce I had to reserve a plane ride I would have in three days to give overdue feedback on a document for a colleague.

Later I take the delightful Delhi metro to dinner with Rikin and Saureen. They both are asking about life and I can't help tripping over myself telling how wonderful things are right now. Just had the great meeting with an enthusiastic energetic org that could really take our technology to new heights, talking to you about how we can and should take the DG deployment to another level, talking about how my PhD career is wrapping up felicitously with all possibility for ending up with a solid set of research outputs after all is said and done, talking about how we have paying customers (and NGOs at that) for Awaaz De with zero marketing or even a website, and any more would almost be more than we can handle right now, talking about the enchanted life I lead living and serving amidst the Angels of Ahmedabad, talking about how I'm angling to live a retired uncle's 6-month-in-India-6-months-in-Cali lifestyle starting at age 28, getting teaching gigs in both places to sustain. Later I'm sitting in the posh new Delhi airport typing away and Kapilbhai calls just to "share the joy" after getting bunch of happy and appreciative calls from organic farmers across Gujarat who just received the inaugural phone broadcast of Sajiv Kheti Samvaad. The skeptic has now turned evangelist. Then on the plane get a call from my Hall of Fame roommate making sure I got on the plane OK after going without a legit photo id. At this point my Cup of Goodness officially overflowed.

At the end of dinner with Rikin and Saureen I open my fortune cookie and get this. I know it's cheesy, but I exclaim at the appropriateness as I show it off to Rikin. Saureen laughs, "Yeah, but you work hard, *and* you enjoy yourself".

What more is there?

Telescopic/Microscopic

This morning me, Nimo, and Nimo's Dad were in the kitchen having breakfast when Jayeshbhai appeared at the door. White kurta pressed perfectly, big smile, warm demeanor. I had the only reaction one can have when seeing him: joy. But especially this time since I hadn't seen him in several weeks as he has been busily stepping into his new life as Iswar 2.0. He came in, we exchanged hugs, and we started chit chatting. Quickly the conversational topic turned to Gandhi. Jayeshbhai said Gandhi had two parallel types of sight: telescopic and microscopic. He could always see the big picture and zoom into the little. He told some stories to illustrate.

When India first gained independence the new Parliament gathered to vote for the first Prime Minister. All votes but one were cast for Sardar Patel. Nehru was crestfallen, his heart was set on it. Gandhi knew both his protegés well: Sardar Patel was an Iron Man of determination and discipline. His relationship with Gandhi was of unflinching respect, he would always do what Gandhi asked him. But Gandhi's relationship with Nehru was more fitful. Nehru would constantly challenge and argue with Gandhi. Knowing their natures Gandhi made the decision to request Sardar to remove his name from consideration, so Nehru would win by one vote. Why? Because if Sardar were to lose the Prime Minister-ship, he would pocket the disappointment and move on. If Nehru lost, Gandhi knew it would be a constant source of trouble down the road. Telescopic vision.

Another telescopic vision story that Nimo loved: The location of the Sabermati Ashram in Ahmedabad was not chosen randomly by Gandhi. First, he wanted the Ashram on the banks of a river, because the river is like a Mother. Second, he wanted the Ashram close to a jail. Which it was, the Sabermati jail was walking distance. Why? Because they were in the middle of the Quit India Movement, and it would be a lot less fuss for Gandhi and posse to not have to go so far every time they got arrested. Also closer for the Britishers who were doing the arresting. Just made things more convenient all around.

Finally Jayeshbhai told of a time in 1946 when Sardar, Nehru, some British Lords, blokes, and other stiffs were meeting at the Ashram with Gandhiji. As they were there, a child brings an injured goat over to Gandhi. He gets up in the middle of the meeting and takes the goat over with the child to apply a mud pack to the goat's injured leg. All meeting participants were flabbergasted, especially the British stiffs. Bad form and what not. Legend has it Gandhiji replied by simply saying that tending to the goat's pain was of greater importance than anything being discussed in that meeting. Not only did it ruffle feathers, it likely left a lasting impression. The suffering of a lowly animal at that moment was of greater concern than all the heady affairs of global politics. That's why he was Mahatma, and that's microscopic sight.

Earn and Lounge

The other day I was walking through the Tekra and ran into this woman. She was going through that sack of shredded paper, separating out any shreds that had color on them from the pure white. Some nearby business had been bringing in sack after sack, and paying for the work. Why mounds of pure white shredded paper are better than ones with color, I can't quite say. The woman said she was paid Rs.1 for each kilo of separated shreds. And it takes about 30 minutes to do a kilo, so that's Rs.2/hour (less than five cents).

Seems meager, and also a bit sub-human. But on another day I was with a group of volunteers walking by the same house and saw the entire family out doing the shred sorting. They were working together, and though focused on the task at hand, had smiles on their faces. We stopped to chit-chat and offer some chai, which they took gladly. Didn't seem like they were in much distress, or depressed. Almost seemed like they would have all been out there that day like that whether they had the shreds to sort or not. But with the shreds at least they were earning while doing timepass. Not quite earn and learn, but for a bit I was conflicted about whether I could completely knock what was going on.

My sense is it's a short run/long run tradeoff, similar to sweat shops. In the short run, it's an opportunity to earn more than you otherwise would (by default). In the long run, it erodes and then stunts the human capacity of the community.

Havikoro

On Sunday an event several months in the making came together at the Tekra (slum) across the street from the Gandhi Ashram where Manav Sadhna runs many of its programs. Havikoro, a Houston, Texas-based hip hop dance group, visited the Tekra to demonstrate their art and teach some moves.

The event was brainchilded by our very own Nimo in collaboration with the U.S. Embassy's American Center. Havikoro, which consists of seven guys, came to the Tekra, mingled with the community, then held a teaching and demonstration workshop in the MS community center and later at Gandhi Ashram. At the community center they had groups of kids come up on stage and taught different hip-hop dance routines, intermixed with their own performances. They taught hip hop, break, b-boy, and house routines with different members leading the dance form they specialize in. One of the group's members, Heaven, is a beatbox artist, and dazzled the crowd with his incredible talent.

One thing that stood out for me was that the kids barely knew a word of English, but they were still able to learn the dances really well. It speaks to the intelligence of the Tekra kids and the expressiveness and patience of the Havikoro members, but also I felt it reflects the universal language of dance and performance.

Other thing that stood out about the event was the mutual learning that was going on. The local kids clearly got a treat and exposure to a different culture. But the Havikoro members were getting so much out of the experience themselves. At least a few of them had never been to India, let alone a slum, so the openness and enthusiasm they showed was commendable. Later Nimo told me that after giving a tour of the Gandhi Ashram and explaining some of the work that was going on there, they were all so moved. Couple even said they wanted to come back and volunteer, and Nimo has his eye on one to be a mentor for an aspiring dancer from the Tekra. As Nimo talked about how rocked the group was I could sense that this was his success metric for the event.

Hats off to the guy for pulling off something special. It was seemingly simple but logistically so intricate, and Nimo made it look easy. It was executed beautifully and the experience came off powerful for all people involved. After Havikoro had finished their workshop and left the Tekra, Anupam Kher, a famous Bollywood actor who happened to be in town, stopped by to visit the Tekra. Poor guy was mobbed endlessly for the 15 minutes he was in the community center, barely getting a good word in or even room to breathe. After one round around the stage, he was still unable to get separation from the crowd, so he left just as quick as he came. Later I asked Nimo which he thought the Tekra kids valued more, Havikoro's in-depth program or Anupam Kher's whirlwind visit. If they were given the choice to invite back one or the other, which would they choose? Nimo was adamant that the kids see the value in quality interaction, that although the Tekra (like any other community in India) is irrationally starstruck, they recognize and appreciate real connection.

I was anticipating this event ever since I got to India over a month ago, when Nimo first told me about it. I was anxious to see how kids here would react to a deeply rooted part of my own culture and childhood. Not surprisingly, the kids took it all in with open minds and hearts. They found the joy, the optimism in hip hop which Havikoro so vibrantly bears. Speaks to the power of music and dance as a universal language. Below is a short photo diary from the day. Anjoy!

UPDATE: The event got a bit of press.

Roots of the Grass

There is a lot of fanfare and hoopla about 'grassroots' work or movements, but what often gets missed in the messaging is what the concept actually means. Small, painstaking, slow, hard work. I got a taste of it couple days ago when I visited a farm outside Nadiad with Kapilbhai.

A bunch of farmers from the surrounding area had gathered on the farm, which belonged to a farmer named Saborbhai. His three-year-old organic green chilli plot was the only organic farm in the locality. Kapilbhai and other organic farmers in the area had called the meeting to educate the neighboring conventional farmers on what organic farming is, why it's important, how to get involved, etc. Employing the same approach as the organic farming festival last month in Anand, the meeting was held in a location where the evidence of success was right before their eyes. Growing green chili in that area using chemicals typically costs a farmer around Rs.4 Lakhs per bhigha. Saborbhai grows it at Rs.5000 per bhigha, which is 80 times less money.

The format of the meeting was farmers sat in a circle and Saborbhai and a couple experienced organic farmers from the region took turns standing up and making the case for farming organically. There is the financial argument of saving costs of imported fertilizer, then the argument of a more effective way to deal with pests and diseases than pesticide sprays, then the promise of better quality and better tasting crops, and of course the appeal to do right by Mother Earth. After all of the farmers spoke Kapilbhai got up and gave a final appeal. He was in his smooth, humorous, pragmatic, compelling, farmer-friendly delivery mode. He reminded the farmers about DDT; when they were kids DDT was all the craze, and any farmer who refused to spray it was considered backward. And now? No one sprays DDT because it is recognized as a toxic chemical. The same situation applies to chemical agriculture. It was considered progressive farming 50 years ago, but no longer. He urged the farmers to take a small but deliberate first step towards a better way. Start with one or two bhigha, make it chemical-free and see what happens. Try the easiest crops first, it doesn't matter. You can still carry on with chemicals everywhere else, but see the difference. And if you are satisfied, bring one bit more land under organic cultivation. And so on. No need to jump all in right away; be sensible, work step-wise. But you have to take the first step yourself, we won't push and tug and kick you. And to help we will come to you, burning our own petrol, and even bringing our own rotlo. You just provide the otlo. The earlier you wake up, the better you will be.

At the end Kapilbhai asked for a show of hands for how many farmers will take a step. Nearly all did. And of course later on we were discussing the possibility of one, maybe two actually forging ahead. I told Kapilbhai that you have laid all of the evidence out, it is as clear as day; there couldn't be anything more clear than Saborbhai's farm. And yet seemingly illogically people won't make a change. But the logic is that it's hard to change, even if you know you should. It's why most New Years' resolutions fail. Or why people eat fast food even though they know it's better for their health to eat fresh vegetables. We don't always do the right thing, or rather the 'right' thing is relative.

Kapilbhai has been working in the grassroots movement for organic farming for 15+ years. And this is the roots of the grass. Sit with farmers, talk things through, help people understand a different lens, and support them in taking the first step of making a change. And through this work the movement inches forward one or two farmers at a time. Reminds me of Nipun who sits in circles around the world talking about service and stillness. Once he shared with a few CharityFocus coordinators how during a fiercely busy point last year he turned down bunch of top notch speaking invites to attend one small, informal, unglamorous event. Because it's an opportunity to "cultivate in the trenches", develop strength to step it up when called for. Real grassroots work.

We did our own bit of grassroots work after the meeting, holding an orientation for Sajiv Samvaad, the new organic farming phone line we are launching. Kapilbhai and I have had such meetings in Kutch, Baroda, and Nadiad, explaining the concept to room-fulls of farmers, having them try the number out, getting their feedback, and asking for their participation as responders for questions that will be posted. We've been getting positive feedback, and learning a lot about how to make the system better. That's the thing about working in the trenches; it usually has a way of paying off.

All of the Kites

Editor's note: This post has background music, which is embedded below. Before you start reading, start the music and let it play as you read. Background music is the latest in the line of blogging innovations we have developed here at TOI. I have been waiting for the right moment to debut this one; the time has now come.


INSTRUCTIONS: Everywhere you here the word 'lights' in the song, substitute in 'kites'.

Last weekend India celebrated Uttarayan, the festival of kites. Gujarat, and especially Ahmedabad, go all-out for this holiday.

The celebration kicked off on Friday when there was an international kite festival on the Sabermati, bringing together people from 45 countries. As crazy as it sounds, people came to Ahmedabad from all over the world to fly kites. There was some sort of tournament, since kite flying in India is a competitive activity. You fly your kite and use your string (usually coated in crushed glass) to cut other people's kites (which I will refer to for the rest of this post as 'kut').

Virenbhai, one of Manav Sadhna's co-founders, is a die-hard Uttarayan reveler. He and other MS volunteers had hundreds of kites made to distribute to MS kids and others. Each of the kites had a message of wisdom about health or hygiene, like how tobacco can lead to problems. A clever way to educate since those kites will be all over the city, having multiple owners as they fly and are kut many times.

One MS staff member, Rahul, is a kite maker extraordinaire. He makes big 6-foot kites, but here he showed off a micro-kite he had made:


The thing I like best about Uttarayan is how pretty much everyone collectively participates. Kite-flying seems frivolous, but it is an ingenious activity for a festival: it gets everyone outdoors, it is highly social, it appeals to young and old alike, it has a whimsical and optimistic characteristic, and it is affordable enough that people from all strata of society can participate. That said, I found out that some still find it expensive, like my regular rickshaw driver who told me he couldn't afford the ~Rs.100 (Rs.45 for a batch of 20 kites, plus string which goes up in price based on quality) for his kids to play. But even if you can't afford to buy new, you can always scrounge fallen ones from the streets, etc.

To me Uttarayan's charm comes from a combination of the mass appeal and the cultural richness. The latter is what separates it from something like the Super Bowl. The event comes with its own little quarks and special traditions. There are foods associated with the event, like Sevsar, Undhiyu, and the official sweet, Chiki. All are served on the terrace of your house where you fly from. Friends and family get together on the choicest rooftops. Across the way your neighbors are having their own flying parties. You bond without words by trying to kut each other's kite, everyone in good spirits, smiling. The radio is blaring old Bollywood hits. You set your kite up with string and run it over the curvature of your head to bend the frame slightly to help it fly. Your fingers are taped for smooth string handling without cutting your fingers, though cuts are like badges of honor. Another badge comes from staying up on the roof, some remain day and night for two straight days. Kites of all colors drifting everywhere to the horizon.

Anarben made the comment that kids get a type of cultural education from such festivals that can't be provided in schools, and those are the most valuable lessons. In India another festival or holiday is always around the corner, and each has own quarks and traditions. As you get older, you participate and those little quarks are what let you time travel back to when you were a kid. Remember Mom's Undhiyu on Uttarayan? Most Indian festivals have a nostalgic quality.

I woke up in the morning to the homicidal screams that boys make while flying their kites. My sense is it's for when you are kutting someone or someone is kutting you. Then a little one came in bright and early asking Nimo for help getting his kite mended. He sent him on his way ready to go:


Later we went over to Virenbhai's where bunch of MS friends and volunteers were getting together. Virenbhai is an expert, he is deep in the kutting game. For about an hour I tried unsuccessfully to fly one, it's really tough. But I did eat a lot of chiki, which I now associate with rooftops and paper kites.

Turn on the Kites in here baby,
Extra bright, I want y'all to see;
Turn on the Kites in here baby,
You know what I need, want you to see everything,
Want you to see all of the kites.
All of the kites, all of the kites

Amazing photos courtesy of Neerad Trivedi