I post some stories of my children. Such as Sukanya's. Who rise from poverty, work very hard, and reach a position of comparative security. I post these stories because of my happiness, and my need top share it. I post them also because I am so proud of them Knowing the kind of odds that they have battled.
Bu they are the exceptions.
A rare tenacity, immense handwork, unusual ability to fall and rise again and again. And in the background some support from us many times. Without which the paths might have remained invisible to them.
But for every child that makes it. A hundred fall by.
That is what we need to remember. And never forget.
For each one happy story I write, there are nine sad ones I bear in my heart. In heavy silence.
The odds are immense. Formidable mountains.
Poverty and malnourishment. A home ridden by debts. Illnesses that there is little means to address.
Schools with the poorest of guidance. Single teacher schools, where one teacher has to guide five classes in a single room.
Parents illiterate and unable to guide.
After schooling, college. Where they need to deal with English, a language they have no familiarity with. Books in english that they simply need to learn without understanding.
The taunts and sneers of children from better equipped backgrounds. There being unable to in anyway afford what peers afford. And further isolation when they are from the SC community.
And yes, despite this some rise. They are the heroes and heroines. Gifted with a rare ability. Many many other lose the battle.
If I had been born into those circumstances, I would have lost. The will to beat those odds. Impossible odds I see daily.
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