Connecting with The Banyan’s People
“You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view,
until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” ~ To Kill a Mockingbird.
My recent visit to The Banyan was my first and left a lasting impression on me. Of course, I had heard about the wonderful shelter provided to mentally ill women by The Banyan. The organisation had had a couple of legendary fundraisers, and a lot of publicity about support from the film industry, although I did not find any sign there. I only see the sign TATA on a plaque at the entrance. The solid brick-red facade of the building is exactly what it promises. A comfortable place. A real shelter. A solid home.
No one had prepared me for the quiet desperation, the silent pleading in the eyes of the residents. I pass the office, climb the stairs and find residents occupied in various ways. It is mid-morning and some are being taught embroidery. Some are walking vigorously on a treadmill, which I learn is a generous donation, and a few are doing light exercises on two sprawling carpets, at one end of the corridor. There are a few smaller rooms where some others are either resting or engaged in painting. Some young women are lying on the ground on their stomachs, poring away at some paper or pottering with colours pencils and paints. They seem to be following a schedule and everyone looks clean, bathed and fed. These women use mats to sleep on; these are rolled and kept in a corner. There are no beds.
The dining hall is at the end of the corridor and it is lunchtime. Several residents help here and in the kitchen with the cooking, but the large space looks in need of a swab. Walking up yet another flight of stairs brings me to the really disturbing section. The residents here are in severe stages of the illness. Some of them are full of high-energy chatter. Some want to make a physical contact with me and keep asking me questions continuously. They are shabbily dressed and have an unkempt air about them. In fact, the attendant locks the doors immediately after I enter.
The health officer has just completed her rounds and is working on her reports. “No”, she replies to my friend, Anandhi’s queries, “Salma didn’t sleep last night too.” Salma is sitting with vacant eyes in a wheelchair. “She has to be restrained sometimes when she turns violent,” explains her health officer. Salma is listless and looks at me blankly when I address her. The matron mentions that she beats her head against the wall. “She’s up all night singing and sleeps during the day,” she continues, “Salma asks to see her mother, she is not interested in seeing her son. She does not cooperate in group activities either.”
I find good cheer building up after lunch. Surprising there is quite a bit of activity. The residents go for a walk in the park. Some of them paint
pictures. Other hungry residents go to the tuck shop and pick up snacks for their evening tea. One of them offers flowers that she has strung. She pockets the ten rupee note she has sold it for with a smile of accomplishment.
There is so much to be done. That is what remains in the mind even after I returned home. Yes, it is indeed fortunate these 187 residents have a secure immediate future. The basic building and amenities are up and working. However, there is so much to be provided for, so much we can give to make The Banyan comfortable and beyond ‘basic’.
– PADMA GAUTAM
Contact Sethu for more info: +91-9677059090. sethu.raman@thebanyan.org
Contact Archanaa for more info: +91-9840523235. archanaa@thebanyan.org
Stories from The Banyan 
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