Rohan Mansata drives around in his personal Mercedes, changes his mobile phone every 3 month, wears only international brands, refers to any area beyond the borders of Bandra as “Village”, don’t know what the terms “pocket money” means and thinks saving money is like saving the world. Why bother? So what happens when this spoilt 18 year old gets inspired by a speech to do some good for the society? We at Indipepal tracked his experience though his secret confession in his diary.
Dear Diary,
I am tired, hungry and sleepy. My back hurts and there is something sticky in my hair (ewww gross). My new Calvin Klien jeans (the really cool one I got from Paris) is covered in mud and my new puma sneakers is covered in shit. I am stinking like I just rolled in the mud and to complete the picture I have this crazy buffoon look going on for me. Why? After roaming in the slums for 5 days I am not surprised that Leo started barking when he saw me. Yes, you heard me right. I was in the slums.
I am never going to go back there. How do people live there? I mean I know HOW people live there but how can one choose a life in a place like that. Its sheer hell and is filthy. Cows pooping everywhere, naked kids running around like they are on a beach, semi naked men brushing flies away from their food and ahemm…other parts of the body , women having catfights over a bucket of water (Can you believe that? Over one bucket?), open drains where you can see shit floating. Yuck! I feel like puking.
But who am I to blame anybody? It was my bloody fault afterall! I should have never fallen for that speech by that professor in college about “doing good”, “helping the poor” blah blah blah. (I only attended his lecture because they were marking attendance). Ah! I remember I was so inspired that day. It seemed like my life had a meaning finally.
I was going to help the poor! Yes. How was I to know that the bugger completely conned me. All inspired with his speech I enrolled for the weekly volunteer programme. I thought I was smart about it. I picked the easiest option on the list. Pulse Polio drive for the children of Agripada. It was perfect! Firstly, it seemed like not much hard work was involved. All one had to do is to make a stall and sit there and banners and pamphlets telling parents to take their toddlers for pulse polio. And the best thing is that it was only for 5 days. I was so proud of my smart thinking that I even treated myself to a new pair of running shoes. After the programme I was planning a short trip to Goa with my friends. Oh the sun kissed sand, the babes…ahem…anyways as I was saying.
I was so excited. I donned on my best clothes (no one had informed me that you can’t look good while doing social work) and met the rest of the Volunteers at Agripada. I must say that they all gave me a weird look I got off my convertible. Then was the first shock of the day. There was no stall! Instead everyone got a big white box which carried polio drops. I had to hang it on my shoulder and carry it to every home, find out if they had a child younger than 5 years and then give two drops of the medicine. Yes, every bloody house of the slum! You know how big the slum was? And this was to go on for full five days! Mom help!
As soon as entered the slum area, a bunch of kids started walking behind me laughing. Apparently they thought my sunglasses were funny. Idiots! (Not everybody can appreciate Chanel anyway!). My trauma was just beginning though. I wandered in the blazing sun for 8 hours, carrying that stupid box , stepping on shit, slipping on the shit, trying to walk on lanes as thin was my waist and asking every household whether they have any kids. At this one house I knocked the door way too many times so this very sleepy man open the door and started yelling at me! He even threatened to call the police if I didn’t buzz off! I was so petrified that I fled from there. Jerk! I got yelled by 3 more aunties after that.
I was so tired by the end of the day that I thought I would die and I wished I had. I had to go back the next day, which I did. And the day after that. And after that. It seemed like I was in a bad movie with me in the hero. I would get home like a zombie, exhausted, smelly and grumpy. I would fall asleep in five minutes. My social life went out of the window as I did not attend a single party the whole of this week. But my parents were really proud of me so I felt a little better. But I have done enough “good” to last me for a while. Now I have to plan the Goa trip.
PS- I think the other guys at the volunteering programme don’t like me too much. I overheard them calling me “spoilt little weenie”. Whatever!
PS- This article written by Neha Ghosh first appeared on indipepal.com
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