Three Thousand Stitches Read online

  After a quick lunch, Shoba and I returned to the office.

  My next appointment was one that had been put off a long time ago. At first, all the three men who came spoke together and I couldn’t understand anything. So I asked them to speak one at a time.

  ‘I have received many awards in this area of work,’ said the first.

  The second one added, ‘And I have the political connections to make things happen.’

  ‘Let me first tell you why we have come here and how we will help the urban poor through the drinking water project,’ said the third.

  ‘Please allow me to ask you a few questions,’ I said gently. ‘Have you gone to the proposed area where you intend to work? And if so, what is the distribution of the population and the ratio of the number of males to the number of females?’

  The three fell silent.

  I changed the line of questioning. ‘Where will you get the supply of drinking water from?’

  No response.

  ‘Is there an existing system in place that doesn’t work? And if so, why not?’ I tried again.

  With no answers in sight, I gave up. ‘Please prepare a well-researched proposal and execution plan with all these answers. After that, we will discuss it at the next internal review. If you give me the details of the location, I will make a personal visit there,’ I said. ‘It really doesn’t matter who is ruling the area politically or who will bestow awards upon us. We specifically target the underprivileged and hope to help them through our efforts and see them smile.’

  The three men seemed disappointed, most likely because I hadn’t committed any funds for their project.

  While I was saying goodbye, there was a knock on the door and Leena came in. ‘Madam, you have to reconsider your travel plans. In your absence last week, I received many phone calls from all over the country for project visits in different locations. We have to allocate the site visits between Prashant, Shrutee and you. I need some of your time to block the dates today.’

  I glanced at the calendar in the room. ‘Fix my tours for the weekends so I can continue with my routine work on weekdays. If I have to visit Delhi, then plan all my project visits around the region, including places like Jammu and Lucknow, at the same time. I want to avoid unnecessary trips as much as possible.’

  Leena nodded and went back with a determined glint in her eye. She would figure out the jigsaw puzzle of my travel plans herself.

  I made my way to my room. All the emails had been sorted and directed to the appropriate people. I went through the ones left for me and began responding to them.

  Next, I switched over to the physical mails. One of my goals is to have a paperless office, but I don’t see it happening any time soon. We still receive hard copies of brochures, request letters and invitations.

  Since I am an author, I receive many complimentary books too. It is a running joke that the number of authors exceeds the number of readers these days. Some of the writers request for a foreword, others want me to promote their books by stocking them in libraries and schools, and a few want to know my opinion on their books. Some authors send us their original manuscripts and ask us to send it back, which causes unnecessary hassles. The books for libraries are handed over to a selection committee, while the foreword and opinion requests are declined most of the time due to my tight schedule. By evening, our trash bins are usually full.

  Then there are letters from my readers to the foundation office. These are a mixed bag—some share their experiences, some criticize certain aspects of my writing while others appreciate it. I take these home to answer during my personal hours.

  My task was interrupted by a call from a news channel. The journalist asked me, ‘What is your opinion on the current government? What are your thoughts about the demonetization of currency and its execution?’

  I declined to comment. I may be good at what I do but I had no expertise in such matters.

  I began sifting through the letters, some of which I routed to Leena for a suitable reply. There was a bunch of letters from the families of army martyrs thanking the foundation for our small contribution. Two others caught my attention—one was from the central government and another from the state government. Both were reaching out to the foundation to seek help for some projects. These were added to the agenda for the next week’s internal review.

  Leena came in to give me an update. ‘Madam, I have worked out your travel plans. You will be travelling fifteen days a month for the next three months. Besides losing most of the weekends, you will also miss your distant niece’s wedding and your father’s death anniversary. Is that okay?’

  ‘That’s fine, Leena. Thank you. My father has taught me that work is worship and I know that he would understand if he was here.’

  Leena handed over my travel details to Krishnamurthy, who immediately started arranging my tickets and accommodation at the company guesthouses wherever possible. Staying at the guesthouses allows easier coordination of my plans and also allows us to save money that we would otherwise have to spend on hotels.

  Minutes later, Shrutee came by. ‘I have some good news,’ she said. ‘The boys whom we supported in the Mathematics Olympiad have got admission in MIT and Caltech. In their media interview, they thanked the foundation profusely and said that our small gift of ten thousand rupees towards their effort pushed them to choose science. There is also an email from Pavagada. The selfless swamiji who works for blind children has written that the midday meal programme has been successful in making the children stay in school. The donation for their music classes has also made them happy. They even received an award recently. He has sent pictures of their bright little faces smiling with pride.’

  Once she left, I sat in silence for a few minutes.

  The loud ringing of the phone jolted me out of my thoughts. Out of instinct, I picked up the phone but Leena was already on the other extension with the caller. The person was screaming at Leena, ‘I deserve more money from the foundation than what they have given me. You are only a secretary. Connect me to your boss and tell them who I am. If you don’t, I will go to the media and tell them about the foundation. So be careful before you respond.’

  I immediately went to Leena in the next room and took the phone from her.

  ‘Sir, what is the problem?’ I asked.

  ‘I requested for two crores for a school but you have given us two lakhs—it is a pittance for the foundation. I want . . . no, I demand an explanation. I am an influential activist and can tarnish the name of the foundation if I want to.’

  ‘Sure. I will give you an explanation. We get more than a hundred genuine applications and around two hundred calls every day. We don’t work under any sort of pressure nor do we care to gain any advantage from our grants. There is an established process in place and we have to distribute the grants to the best of our judgement. We do not increase our grants without a review of the progress made. Experience has taught us that the work speaks for itself. Besides, there are trustees who are also involved with the decision-making. We may not be there in the foundation at a future date, but the established processes will continue. I must also tell you that we aren’t afraid of the media because we haven’t done anything wrong or under wraps.’

  The man calmed down and cleared his throat. ‘Well, if we do well and clear the review, then will you help us next year?’

  ‘Maybe. We help many organizations and are not afraid of approaching the good ones ourselves. It is the quality of work that attracts us and we do not worry about potential threats or the connections of our beneficiaries.’

  I could hear a murmur that vaguely seemed to sound like an apology.

  I had had a hard day and was in no mood to let him off the hook. ‘Sir, we also have difficult days at the foundation but we try to ensure that it does not affect our relationships with others,’ I gave advice that nobody asked me for.

  A glance at the clock confirmed that it was almost 5.30 p.m. I was planning to stay back a little