Looking at the televised debate of the motion of no confidence against the government last week, any one could be condoned for despairing of our democratic credentials and of being ashamed of the people we have elected to govern us. And but for chance encounters with people across the country, so would I. 

Her name is Uma. She is from Bihar and a graduate of NIFT 12 years ago. A whimsy of fate perhaps made her decide to come to Auroville for an internship of two weeks, a township that represents the aspiration of humanity for a world without rancour, without external rules and obligations, fuelled only by the search for the spiritual in all of us and a need to create a community of peace and love. 

She stayed. Fuelled by the palpable sense of aesthetics and design in the community she started working with design, textiles and women. And then came the tsunami. There were many villages bordering Auroville which were inundated and the residents sprung into action. The designers got together in a few hours to think of design solutions that would also give hope and livelihoods to the shattered fishing community. And the idea was born to give them all bits of leftover cloth from all the studios and factories and to train them into creating – something that would spell hope and bring smiles. While hoardes of residents and volunteers went about rebuilding homes, feeding, clothing and offering medical services to the villagers, this band struck out to train hundreds of women to make dolls – tiny cloth dolls, quirky dolls that would make people smile. Most of the women had never thread a needle, let alone sewn anything of value. But soon they were making these tiny dolls. And the dolls made them laugh.  

A few days later Uma’s partner had a dream, and in the dream the doll introduced herself as Tsunamika and demanded that he write her story. Up at five the next morning he did. And so was born Tsunamika, the little girl who lived at the bottom of the sea and wanted friends. She wished and wished and was taken up to the surface of the sea where she saw the sun. She begged him for friends from all over the world for she was lonely and he promised. The waves carrying her rose and rose and soon there was devastation. Tsunamika cried and said this is not how I wanted to find friends. I need to bring them hope. Please help me. 

And that is what Tsunamika has done. Mothered by Uma and a small band, today she leads a campaign of an economy of giving – where things are given for the love. And millions of Tsunamikas, some as pins, some as broaches, some as pencil covers, others as hair bands, have been given across the world with the legend, “I am giving you Tsunamika because I like you”. There is no price to her. People give to a fund what they want. A child her pocket money, sent through someone from Spain. A corporation from their CSR fund. People who receive her, others who hear her story. And now her story has been given as a book to thousands of people as well. There are clubs in her name, clubs which value giving for the love of giving, without a price. Millions of people who believe that the true globalization has to be that of giving. And Tsunamika, with a presence in over 50 countries, is truly global.

Uma’s eyes shine with imminent tears and delight as she talks to me about the movement. Of how she was greeted by people holding little Tsunamikas in countries across the globe. About how the movement runs itself, because in her people see the hope of a world where greed and power are not the only currency, nor even the most significant one.  

Perhaps next time around the scandal in parliament will be one where little Tsunamikas of love and hope pour out of every bag to bring forth a different world

DNA July 27th 08 .