Lythop Dividing Multiplying

IMG_0830 copy

Lythop dividing, the head of a pebble plant,
A strange and unusual thing, oft overlooked,
Split down the middle, new heads emerge.

Fenrir rages, like a dog going mental,
Chasing its own tail, inside my mind.
A year after being diagnosed,
Severe Clinical Depression.
Still little help is offered,
A hand is stretched out to me,
To hold mine, to comfort,
An ear to listen, a shoulder to lean on,
Only to be withdrawn as they move on,
Abandoning to let Fenrir go wild.

My CPN, community psychiatric nurse,
My care coordinator,
Cancels an appointment, fails to get in contact,
I leave a message, it takes her 2 days to call back,
She is leaving.
That will be four CPN’s in  year then,
Not much care coordination there then.
Do I want to be passed on,
Passed on to another CPN or…
Possibly a social worker.
Are they serious.

No help, suicidal for a year,
No help, a danger to myself sometimes,
A danger to others othertimes,
Harm …the buzzword that moves,
Guidelines call to action on that word,
But once done it is back to just looking,
Looking at me.

Five months ago a psychologist assesses me,
Considers my drinking to be excessive,
Too excessive for psychotherapy to work,
Another bullshit guideline,
How much is an OK amount?
She won’t say,
Says she will asses me again in three months,
But I hear nothing.
Still waiting…
And waiting…
With Fenrir by my side,
In my peripheral,
Twisting my melon man.
IMG_0824 copy


ZZZZZZZZZ Wake up to Project Why

IMG_1087 copy
#ProjectWhy    #AtoZChallenge

The beggars and hawkers rest in the evening sun,
Their jobs done for the day,
The flyover and traffic lights their domain,
The stopped cars and rickshaws the target,
As they tap on the window,
Mournful expression, the honed and practice sad eyes,
Occasionally a baby in arms,
Always the same call and action,
Fingers shovelling to the mouth,
Khaana, khanna, khaana,
Eat, eat ,eat.
Some are genuine, some are controlled by crime gangs,
Most a have protected pitch,
Which means they have to pay someone,
Most are persistent and good humoured,
When I travelled to and from Project Why,
We would stop at the same junction morning and evening,
I would play cat and mouse with three young beggars,
I would try to photograph them,
They were very adept at dodging the camera,
The  unspoken understanding and smile told,
You give us nothing we give back nothing,
It was a game, they recognised the rickshaw,
Rarely bothered us,
When I was leaving to return to England,
I bought them Indian sweets call Gulab Jamun,
My favourite very sweet and sticky,
I ran through the mad Delhi traffic to reach them in the middle,
They were perched on a little concrete island inches from cars and buses,
I held out the box of sweets, no camera in hand,
The three youngsters looked puzzled,
Didn’t understand why this white Britisher,
Who never gave them money,
Was approaching them to give,
Rather than them putting on their sad show to beg,
Nonetheless they took the sweets ans scattered into the traffic,
I never saw them again.
These are the children Project Why exists for,
A reason it started, a differently-abled beggar,
Being taken advantage of and a physically abused,
He was taken under the wing of Project Why,
Given dignity and a reason to be happy.

This month of April, I have been taking part in The A to Z Challenge,
Every day except Sundays, writing a blog going through,
All the letters of the alphabet,
I chose to write each day about my time in India,
With a wonderful charity called Project Why,
They give education, welfare and work skills to children and women,
From the slums of south Delhi.
They all do an amazing job.
They have so much love, give so much love, receive so much love.
But love is not enough in these modern times,
They need regular donators.
To carry on their brilliant work.

Y oh Y oh Y *** Project Why that is Y

#ProjectWhy   #AtoZChallenge
New Delhi 200

I still can’t get my head round this,
Preeti, a victim of early childhood Polio,
Her legs useless but she never accepted help,
My didi, sister, friend I hope,
Sent away to the village by her family,
Hidden away, banished,
To a life of servitude probably,
Seems an in-law didn’t like her,
So much promise, so much pride,
A generous, quick witted human.
I want to find the village and see if she wants to come back,
Maybe somewhere along the line it might be possible.
Delhi 697
This is where she lived, behind these huts,
Her family shack just one small room,
A pallet for a bed,
She brought such dignity to Project Why,
She brought such smiles to me, to other teachers,
Smiles to the other children of class,
Smiles to volunteers she met.
That is what Project Why allowed her to do,
Unhindered she gave.
This is what Project Why can do,
Bring smiles.
A beaming volunteer in the crèche,
Everyone who came into the crèche left with a smile.

237 - Enjoyco

Enrico, a teenage German, found he had a gift,
A gift for entertaining,
He didn’t hold back, Project Why gave him a smile,
He gave back a lot more.
Project Why touches all,
Leaves everyone, students, teachers,
With smiles.

Xylem – Project Why

IMG_2284 copy

#ProjectWhy  #AtoZchallenge

Xylem, yes a tenuous link, but hey X is difficult.
Exist, exit no,
Project Why is like a xylem vessel, how?
This is the definition:
‘Helps provide support and nutrients upward from the roots.’

IMG_2300 copy
Project Why allows the roots of children to be firmly made,
Supports their growth by giving the educational nutrients,
Allows the children to grow strong,
Ending in their flowering, providing beauty, perfume,
But also nectar for others, so they can grow too. 
The gift that keeps on giving.
IMG_2308 copy
Project Why – making the difference,
Breaking the cycle of poverty.

Wet Through at Project Why.


#ProjectWhy  #AtoZChallenge

When the rains break, they break with gusto,
Long awaited monsoon floods everything in Delhi,
Every street it seems becomes a lake,
The little shacks in the slums become islands,
Islands in a sea of mud and you don’t want to know,
When the drains and gullies overflow.
IMG_0381 copy
No matter how much rain everyone seems to enjoy it,
Not least the kids of Project Why,
They quite happily walk home from school,
Taking advantage of the cooling rain,
Young kids play out in it, laughing and squealing,
The wetter the better.
Not all good news though,
A badly thought out,
Misplaced hole in the road to lay cables,
An ancient tree, it’s roots cut thoughtlessly,
The lovely Sikh taxi drivers who are friends of Project Why,
Sat right next to the tree awaiting the next fare,
Craaaaack, smaaaash.
Lucky they were sat on chairs in the shade not in the car.
IMG_1739 copy