North of Bangladesh, this beautiful region is tucked away from the rest of India and surrounded by Nepal, Tibet, Bhutan China and Burma. The delightful colleagues we worked with at the workshop were proud of their culture and heritage, many bearing very close resemblances to the people of Burma and our friends in Cambodia.  Despite the stories about the activities of the Maoist separatist movement that appeared regularly in the Delhi newspapers our colleagues reassured us that the region was peaceful and urged us to visit their charities in the surrounding mountainous states.

After the workshop we managed to see some more of Assam. Arman suggested we visit a very old temple in which the priests practice worship that amalgamates elements of Buddhism, Hinduism and Islam. A venerable imam, with smiling eyes, guided us around the temple to chant at alters wreathed in incense and aromatic smoke from lighted tapers and oil lamps. Here we chatted with friendly locals worshipping at the temple. Tolerance, welcoming nods and easy charm seemed come naturally to the Assamese we met, illustrated perhaps by the kids singing Christmas carols in a region where the people have only a glancing awareness of Christianity.

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The Greater One Horn Indian Rhino after it’s first charge looking for our hidden jeep.

The rhino senses we are in his territory and charges. As he thundered toward us we moved the jeep and he lost us. Bewildered by our apparent disappearance he trotted back.

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Dawn patrol. Our party set off across the Kaziranga plain to look for the shy but bad tempered Indian rhino

Margaret and Allan on their elephant, closely followed by a baby elephant pushing through the long elephant grass.

Margaret plying with a new found friend.

Huge wild water buffalo with enormous horns. We didn’t see any tigers although there were several false alarms.

We were getting ready to meet the Greater Indian one horn rhino in the Kaziranga National Park in Assam. These shy and bad tempered animals are difficult to approach except on elephants. Apparently they are so short sighted that an elephant with people on it looks just like the wild elephants that also roam the park.

Rising light levels rendered a faint colour wash to the waving elephant grass and the islands of green pasture where small groups of deer grazed the short grass. It was delightful to look down on the baby elephants pushing their way through the elephant grass following in the wake of their mothers and being gently encouraged by the nudge of a trunk of their aunties bringing up the rear.

Emerging from the elephant grass again into a bigger boggy pasture huge rhinos looked up in myopic disinterest, twitched an ear and continued to munch. Despite us getting really close they seemed totally unaware of our presence and as calm and benign as contented cows. That was an impression we revised later in the day.

Dawn broke over the eastern hills and flooded the plain with rich light spotlighting the startlingly white egrets perched on the haunches of rhinos and wild buffalo wallowing in shallow pools. Here pelicans perched watching geese and ducks drifting over the surface.

It is always a privilege to ride on an elephant through a natural environment but the baby elephants add to the pleasure. Being able to play with them, closely watched by their mothers and aunties is always fun.

Jeeps took us deeper into the park to appreciate the amazing variety of animals, bird life and even Indian tent turtles basking in the midday warmth on half submerged tree trunks in the river.

Rounding a dirt track we encountered a rhino grazing on sun drenched pasture. Ears twitched as the massive snout searched for a scent. It’s small beady eyes squinted as the alert ears detected our intrusion. At a walk at first the rhino approached, then it trotted before charging us. Our driver deftly manoeuvred behind a jeep sized bush and our attacker thundered past before turning bewildered back to the empty pasture. We were delighted by the close up pictures. But the jeep owner was less than enthusiastic, explaining that ten jeeps had been written off by rhino charges that year.        

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From the solid bulk of traffic on both sides people pushed through the mass, ducked under the barrier and walked over the rails. Despite the shrill whistle of the Delhi express cyclists manoeuvred their bikes under the pole and walked across the rails in front of the engine. 

Only the passing of the trundling train produced a pause in the steady stream of people crossing the rails. Passengers standing in the open carriage doorways waved listlessly to the waiting population of this small West Bengal town.

When the dust settled the barrier still refused to lift. So the numbers crossing the tracks increased and impatient motorcyclists started to duck under the barrier. One family dismounted, Dad leaned the motorbike over to get it under the pole, Mum held the baby whist the oldest son stood and looked down the track to watch for the next train.  At a word from dad they all climbed back onto the motorbike and bumped over the two sets of tracks to repeat the procedure on the other side.

Only after the Chennai Express rumbled through did the barriers lift. Then the masses of traffic from both sides advanced to meet in the middle. A complete impasse of  too many vehicles with no room to pass. But accommodations were reached amid repeated impatient horn sounding and long periods waiting for impacted motorcycles to wriggle free.

Turning to our friend Chhetri we asked why people were not trained to drive. Why did motorists not look ahead to predict problems and drive accordingly. Ah he said smiling people just do what they want to do. It’s a free country after all, the largest democracy in the world. We drive democratically!

Here in the tribal areas of West Bengal the rural poor barely scraped a living as landless labourers. Yet if their children were healthy, these people living on the edge of starvation counted themselves lucky. The burden imposed by a disabled child with cerebral palsy, autism or mental retardation could tip the balance.

This was the stark reality of modern two tier India, desperate crushing povery living intimately with exravagant middle class wealth. It was the contrast that was staggering rather than the absolute levels of degradation. We’d seen poverty first hand when we lived in Sub Saharan Africa. Somehow though it didn’t seem so unjust when the whole country was poor.

That’s not to say there was no social conscience here. We were introduced to rural charities by our good friends at the Indian Institute of Cerebral Palsy.  In one village the parents, supported by dedicated local volunteers had set up a special school and therapy centre in an old government building. They had even acquired a bus to bring severely disabled children in from outlying villages. That was a huge advantage because it not only meant that the kids could get some treatment and a basic education but it released both parents to earn a meagre living.

At an even more remote village we were entranced by Sharmila a lady who had used her own savings and prevailed upon her family to establish a centre for disabled kids. So we were all the more embarrassed when we were welcomed with garlands and people trying to touch our feet as marks of respect.

The next day we were delighted to meet Sharmila again as one of the sixty two directors of NGOs and Charities who attended our three day management workshop in Calcutta. Working with Sonali and Chhetri our Indian Institute of Cerebral Palsy friends was fantastic. Chhetri had a sense of humour which was completely in tune with ours. So when he translated a joke into Bengali he often added a complimentary one of his own. The whole tenor of the conference was positive with mutual support and respect. At the end, the delegates joined in a song dedicated to the success of the seminar. It was a wonderful experience.

Calcutta was unmistakably a British city. There were magnificent buildings like the white marble Victoria Memorial which was still maintained. But there were also crumbling old insurance buildings which made the place look a bit like Manchester or Glasgow after sixty years of neglect. Like most India cities Calcutta was also dirty and grimy with a shifting layer of litter which never seemed to dissipate but there were also pavements and this made the town navigable on foot and so much more enjoyable.

Rising away the centre were sparkling new high rise buildings and modern office blocks in Salt Lake, a suburb of Kolkata, as the city is now called. So the sixteen million plus population continues to expand as the middle class grows and the gap between rich and poor widens.

 
Kolkata Community Based Rehabilitation Field Work Pictures

Kolkata Workshop Pictures

Kolkata City Pictures

Pictures of Kolkata, India

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The magnificent Victoria Memorial was built to commemorate British Rule in India, Despite independence this building is still cherished by the people of Kolkata.

The building is surrounded by well kept gardens where people relax in the shade of the trees

St Paul’s Cathedral is near the Victoria Memorial and is still well attended.

St John’s Church is the resting place of many famous British people, including Job Charnock the founder of the city. There is also a memorial in the churchyard to the people who perished in the Black Hole of Calcutta. The main square is Dalhousie Square and St Andrew’s Kirk, right, sits on the corner.

Many of the old British buildings however are crumbling in neglect. On the left a small political rally marches up Chowringhee Road to protest against rising food prices. Here the rally passes a derelict building on the corner of Lenin Sarani. On the once elegant Park Street, right, buildings are in an advanced state of decay.

The old British cemetery in Park Street is the last resting place of many famous British residents. The cemetery is currently being restored and the curator is happy to chat about the personalities who are buried here. 

The Maidan is a huge central park and common land where several informal cricket games are played simultaneously whilst herds of goats and horses crop the grass and picnics are spread under the trees. Walking south the Victoria Memorial presides over the city at leisure.

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Conference Delegates on the last day of a successful event  

Margaret engaging with one of the working groups that were a feature of our workshops.

Allan explaining a point during a group discussion

Mr Chhetri Head of Community Based Rehabilitation at the Indian Institute of Cerebral Palsy translates into Bengali. Robert Dequadros National Resources Director of Credibility Alliance delivers a spell binding address.

Heads of NGOs and Charities from West Bengal and the eastern states work together in groups.

Community Based Rehabilitation Projects for people with Cerebral Palsy, Autism, Mental Retardation and Multiple Disabilities, Hooghly, West Bengal, India.

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Meal time at the Ramakrishna Centre, Hooghly, West Bengal, India. This centre is financed and managed by Chadana Blurin

Margaret and Allan at village NGO welcome ceremony

Mothers with children who are disabled listening to discussions about improvements to services.

Bicycle rickshaw driver and his family welcome us to their home in a rural village. Their son attends the special school in the village. Meeting of villag NGO management committee. Sonali and Chhetri from the Indian Institute of Cerebral Palsy sit next to Allan

Scenes of West Bengal village life. Ladies washing clothes in the pond and an old lady relaxing on her door step watching the neighbours go by.

To earn this money the group started making bottle caps and selling envelopes at medicine shops. They also started a road-side tea stall.

To further develop their skills they approached the Department of Food Processing in the State Government of West Bengal, and managed to get sponsorship for formal training on making jam, jelly, pickles, detergent soap and powder. Their products are now selling well.

Their marketing plan and strategy was simple: the mothers keep half the profit and the other half goes into the group’s joint bank account.

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Margaret walking about in the colourful and friendly streets of Ahmedabad. Allan had his hair cut in a local barber shop and we ate in street cafes. These men type documents and write letters for clients.

Gujarati people love sweets and this stall did a roaring trade. Up an alley we chatted to this butcher who was preparing meat for the mid day meal. In front is a pile of hooves.

The streets were full of smiling people who asked where we came from and what we were doing in Ahmedabad. It was delightful.

At the main Jama Masjid Mosque we chatted to worshippers who came in for a private prayer or to have conversations with friends.

Decorations were being placed on the tomb of the queen, or Rani, of Ahmed Shah. In the tomb of Ahmed Shah himself the graves were draped in fine cloth. Ahmed Shah died in 1442 but his tomb is still scared and people come here to pray.

This Hindu Temple is a glorious expression of exuberance with finely carved dancing figures surrounded by animals and plants. The temple is a delight to explore.

Gandhi’s Ashram with house and surrounding buildings has been preserved as a museum to the great man and his work.

The huge and finely carved step well at Adalaj is like a cathedral built down into the ground.

At the surface there is nothing to see. Then the many visitors descent in the gigantic cool interior and walk down seven storeys of broad steps to the water deep under ground.