Dark Diwali For Kandivli (Mumbai) Family

On September 21, 2011, Sumit Dilip Wankhede, 22 and Avinash Jadhav 22, were returning at 5 am after working at a construction company in Mira Road.

Because it was raining the bike skidded and hit a stationery truck parked in front of Alica Nagar, opposite Whispering Palms Xxclusives.

Their family and friends took them to Sanchaiti Hospital, Akurli Road, who started treatment but at 7.00 am said it was important to shift both to a bigger hospital and referred them to Criticare Hospital, which is in Juhu.

At Criticare, Avinash (the pillion rider) was operated on right away, but Sumit who had a Cerebral Hematoma (blood clot in the brain), was operated upon at 7.00 in the evening. He regained consciousness in three days and passed out again on September 26.

By the time he turned 22 on the 10th of October, he was conscious and lucid, but unable to talk because of a broken jaw. The surgery of the jaw had been put off because of a lung infection.

On the 12th of October, Criticare Hospital said that he was out of danger and it would be better to move him to a place closer to home, with good facilities, like the newly opened DNA Hospital at Lokhandwala Township.

Now Sumit & his elder brother, Pratik (24) made a living for their family, by washing cars. So when the hospital bill (along with medicines) at Criticare came to a whopping Rs. 9 Lakhs, the family's entire life savings was woefully inadequate and they had to borrow a huge amount of money to pay the bills.

At DNA, Sumit starting improving and began to communicate through eye movements and gestures. He was very fond of Cricket and on the 23rd of October, when Sumit's friends took him around the hospital in a wheel chair, he conveyed his desire to watch the India Vs England match and watched it for around 10-15 minutes.

That night he stayed up till 3.30 am with his brother and another patient in the ICU who was due to be discharged the next morning. At around 3.30am Sumit drifted to sleep and his elder brother, Pratik, went to the next room to lie down. At 5.30 am, the hospital staff woke up Pratik saying that Sumit was not doing very well and needed to be put on a ventilator.

Sumit passed away around mid-day on Dhanteras (Oct 24, 2011).

His elder brother Pratik, 24, collapsed when he heard the news and his mother fainted. The youngest son of the family Atul, 15 yrs, started hyperventilating and had to be given medical aid.

An autopsy was done on Sumit at 4 p.m. and his body was consigned to flames at 10 p.m. on Dhanteras.

The shocked and broke family were unable to pay the DNA Hospital bill, which was more than Rs. 1 Lakh. The hospital was kind enough to release Sumit’s body without asking the family to settle the bill immediately.


The Wankhede family, while still reeling from their young son’s death is in debt to the tune of around Rs. 8 Lakh.

Neighbourhood Times will be donating 5% of advertising revenue generated from our Children’s Day special issue dated November 10, 2011 to The Wankhede Family.

We, at Neighbourhood Times, urge each reader to look deep within our hearts for compassion and contribute generously in raising funds the late Sumit Wankhede’s Family.

We cannot bring their son back, but as a community we can help them to get rid of their huge debt. Names & Pictures of donors who contribute Rs. 5,000/- and above will be published in Neighbourhood Times.

Electronic Money transfers can be done directly to:

Mr. Pratik Dilip Wankhede,
A/C No: 65083742045
IFSC : STBP0001014
Bank : State Bank of Patiala
Branch : Lokhandwala Kandivli East, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India 400101.

Sumit’s elder brother Pratik can be contacted on +91-9664903378 / +91-8108921267

SIMON SAYS....

No country for old men !!

It's the Indian Independence day. Sitting on the road,with cars and rickshaws whizzing past him,dangerously, is a white haired, old, emaciated man, his frail arm stuck out, begging for money, food....any thing.

A well dressed man holding the Indian flag passes him by without throwing so much as a glance at him.

Others, mostly the blue collared workers, throw in a few coins in his battered steel cup but not one car stops...not even a single one, to give alms to this frail man obviously unable to work, not even on the day our country celebrates Independence.

As our reporter starts talking to him with our photographer clicking pictures......a small crowd gathers...curious, eager to give bytes and quotes but no help.

His name is Randa Pawar (A Marathi Manoos!) aged 90 and suffering from Throat and Mouth Cancer and Blurry vision.

His wife, Sakuna Bai,60, and he live in a 10 by 10 feet room. His elder son Samarao Pawar,22 lives with them while his younger son, Nagesh Pawar,20,who suffers from some mysterious ailment, one fine day, left home, never to return.

“My wife has cancer too.......thankfully we were both was operated on, at The Tata Memorial Hospital around the same time 12 years back. The operation was free and I am grateful to them,but we had to buy our own medicines. My wife is okay now but I am still sick”said Pawar

With no support from the sons, and left to fend for themselves.....Pawar's wife stays at home while he spends the day begging, trying to collect enough money to buy food and medicines including injections.

The medicines he needs are expensive costing Rs 100 per tablet. Since climbing stairs is a very big problem for him, how he manages to get on the train for the hospital,is anybody's guess!!!

Where does he stay? “In the same place I have been staying from 1947, Damu Nagar,Mahindra gate number 2”

Our reporter, Meeta Nair asked him a few questions....Did he know what day it was?

“Monday” he replied.

I'ts Independence Day, the day India gained Independence !!!.

The poor man is mumbles... “I didn’t know”. Well how old is he? “90” he said.

So he must have been around that time in 1947? “Yes I was.” Does he remember anything? “Not much” he says.

What does Independence day mean to him? “Nothing” he says

“What CAN it mean to me??.....look at my state, the Government gives me no assistance....I am so weak, some times I don't have the strength to go out and beg. Plus the Policemen beat me up when they catch me begging.” “NO!!”he says, dismissively, “ Aaazadi Divas means nothing to me"

Our reporter, Meeta asks him.Would he mind posing for the camera......holding the Indian flag?

Despite all his earlier complaints, Pawar not only agrees but insists on standing up......to give respect to the Tiranga.

Our Photographer,Naresh Das, and Reporter, Meeta Nair, watch silently as he struggles to his feet, his legs quivering as he faces the lens.

His speech becomes labored........“It hurts when I talk” he says indicating a spot on his neck. “The suffering is too much. There is no point in living any more” he trails off....

Does he need any immediate help besides money and food?

“Steps.”...he says stumping our reporter completely, “I need help with climbing steps”.

It's a cool,cloudy day, “How does Hot Daal-Rice sound? Would he like some?”

“Yes” he nods eagerly and waits patiently. He accepts the money and the steaming plate of Dal-Rice and the money that I send across and promptly digs in hungrily, asking if he can come the next day, for some more food.

Watching him wolf down the meal, I wipe away a tear as I think of all those Independence Day, self patting speeches, given all across India, by our supposedly well meaning Politicians, put there, by the Smart Indian Junta.... but somewhere, in the course of “The Great Indian Development,” millions of people like Pawar (both Marathi and Non-Marathi) have some how slipped through the huge cracks in the system and fallen into a pit of hell.

May God help them!! I don't think any one else will !!!

Notes from a mommy's diary

According to the American Academy of Pediatrics,a child's sex education should start when he or she is ready to ask questions about their bodies and while explaining it is important to use proper names for all body parts.

In India,this can be a little tricky...

Here's what happened when a friend tried that with her five year old boy-

We were at the playground and my friend and her kid were playing with a group of kids his age, when suddenly he pushed a girl to the ground. My friend hurriedly intervened,"Don't push beta" she cajoled "she is a girl." The little boy pondered for a moment before piping up "Yesss ,she is a girl, she has a Vagiiiiinaaaaaa!!!"

The girl's mother, (we'll call her Mrs Singh) frothed at the mouth and almost had a fit. My friend's son was quickly hushed up.

Later he was warned about talking about certain body parts in public,which confused him for sure. I mean isn't the entire point of the exercise meant to explain that there is nothing dirty about our bodies?

Any way, that little girl is no longer allowed to play with my friend's kid. Absolutely no prizes for guessing why.

So....when my boy turned four, to be on the safe side, I stuck to baby names for body parts.

In simple language, he made 'susu' with his 'nunu' and he was warned that if he er explored around the area too much,his nunu would fall off. And that, was that.

Now last week something really funny happened-

My four old boy saw me in a swimsuit for the first time. "Mamma?" he asked tilting his head thoughtfully "where is your nunu?"

Stumped by this query, I had two choices-

a)Take this opportunity (defined by the American Academy of Pediatrics as a 'Teaching Moment') and explain the difference between girls and boys.

b)chicken out

I of course chose the latter

"Baby" I cooed "I don't have a nunu."
"Where IS it?" he demanded worriedly

I tried again, "Sweetie, I'm a girl and girls don't have
nunus," I said, hoping that that was the end of the topic.
"But MAMA!!" he persisted "How will you make susu?"

I hid a smile, "Well baby,girls don't need that to make susu"
"NO" he wailed, clearly upset "we have to buy you a new one."

Now to prevent a complete meltdown I soothed him,
"Don't worry,we don't have to buy one, Mama will borrow Dada's"
(at this, Dada chuckled loudly)

My son was silent as he mulled over it,then suddenly brightened
as he came up with a priceless solution "Mama, i got an idea,we
will cut off Dada's nunu and then you can stick it on with gloopy glue!"

My kid looked pleased, his Dad stopped chuckling and I simply fell down laughing.