What a sport!

Imagine cricketing legend Ian Botham going unrecognised in a city in one of the most cricket-crazy nations in the world! Difficult to believe? Well, this happened in Mumbai, India, arguably the capital of cricket where nobody would think twice if a kid starts wielding a cricket bat even before he is able to walk.
But what are Botham and Kapil Dev doing in Mumbai, particularly when no cricket match is in progress? To find out, read on.
***

The car that takes us – a few mediapersons – from our hotel in suburban Bandra to the 'largest slum
in the world', Dharavi, in the heart of Mumbai, has to navigate assorted cricket teams on various street corners.
Motley groups of children are playing cricket with rubber balls, tennis balls, rags bound together as a ball...

The wickets are often three twigs with the leaves shorn off, bats are rudimentary and gloves have a few fingers missing. But that does not stop the games from being played in real earnest.

In some areas, a few bystanders are standing by the side of the road and watching the game, even offering a few tips to the bowler or the batsmen.
We stop near a group of people who are gathered near a cluster of huts in the midst of Dharavi.

A few minutes later, Botham arrives in a car. He looks a trifle nonplussed as he steps out into the glare of the morning sun. A group of children and a few adults mill around wondering why "some foreigners'' have come to their colony. Few of them seem to recognise one of the greatest cricketers of the 20th century. Instead they seem to be more fascinated by "a white man'' who is in their midst.

"Ah!" he responds when asked how he feels about it. "It's natural, it's been such a long time since all that…"
In any case Botham is not here to promote cricket. He's here to review the work done by Magic Bus, a project supported by the Laureus Sport For Good Foundation that works with children in Mumbai's slums.
For those who may be wondering what the Magic Bus is, what kind of magic is happening in a Mumbai slum and what Botham's role is in all of this, all they need to do is look around certain sections of Dharavi.

There's a kind of magic happening there which is evident on the faces of children playing in whatever little patches of space they can find; on the faces of their parents who stand by the doorways of their tiny huts; on the faces of the team of enthusiastic workers of the Magic Bus Project...

***
"Our children had no idea of how to behave or even speak properly," says Smitha, a housewife-volunteer we meet outside the door of her shanty house in Dharavi. "Their conversation was sprinkled with obscene words which they used for emphasis simply because that's what they used to hear. Now, after taking part in classes conducted by the Magic Bus and attending camps organised by them, the language of our children has changed," she says.

"This small initiative has brought about a big change in their lives," chips in Alka Seesha, programmes director, Magic Bus.

We recognise the change Seesha refers to when we join Smitha for a short tour of the slum. Hardy, menacing-looking men look at her deferentially when she addresses them in her soft voice.

Though the narrow streets are bustling, people,
on seeing her, step aside politely allowing us to pass.
"This change in attitude comes from a sense of self-awareness that they themselves are worthy of respect," says Haridas Tavde, a resident who fancies himself a poet.

Botham, too, appears to have spotted the magic happening here. "I've seen slums in other parts of the world, but nothing like this," says the former cricketer, looking around in amazement. "I didn't expect to see this, all this infrastructure in the middle of this slum. It's amazing, really. This place has everything; it's so self-contained it's almost a country in itself! And perhaps there is a lesson
in that for India.

Or any other country for that matter."
It is no surprise why a person like Botham is amazed by the infrastructure of Dharavi. Slums in some parts of the world are cut away from the rest of the city with the inhabitants being a law unto themselves. Here, in what is believed to be the largest slum in Asia, a British celebrity, a bunch of scribes and some social workers can walk without experiencing any sense of unease or fear. And this despite the absence of
a cop or any sign of authority in sight. Where else could this happen but at Dharavi?

What is apparent is a certain resilience in these people here, says Botham. "It makes them want their children to have a better life and encourages them to participate in the initiatives of the Laureus Foundation and Magic Bus,'' says Botham.
Is he upset to see the poverty and squalor all around?
"I don't see it like that," he says.

"I look at the positive side, at what's being done for these kids," he says, pausing to shake hands with a few kids who have been told who he is. "And that positivity I see here."
We notice it as well – the positivity and the magic that is slowly infiltrating the dirty narrow lanes, the corrugated shacks, the small factories, mills, stores that operate in Dharavi...

But what is the role of Magic Bus in all of this? Who got the bus rolling? What is its route? Where is it headed? And who drives it?

Meet Matthew Spacie, the founder and chairman of Magic Bus, a non-government organisation whose focus is to improve the condition of children in Mumbai slums.
Spacie is not new to India. A resident for over a decade, he spent the larger part of his life in India based in Mumbai as CEO of the India-specific travel agency Cox & Kings.
During the course of his stay there, he had a chance to see up close the lives of children in slums.

Keen to make a difference in their lives, he felt that giving them a taste of the outdoors would broaden their vision and make them want to change for the better.
To this end he began organising rugby coaching classes and tours to the beaches and hills in and around Mumbai.

Along the way, he gave them
lessons in discipline, self-esteem and the importance of respecting team members.

For many children, these sessions were valuable as they gave them a chance to express themselves and
also an opportunity to release their pent-up energy.
Finding the trips beneficial, he decided to formalise the activities and so founded the Magic Bus in 1999.

The Magic Bus works by focusing on the delegation of authority with a team of mentors and youth mentors.

The mentors team is qualified in training, outdoor instruction, sports coaching and social work and thus supplies the experience for the organisation. The youth mentors include young adults selected from the communities where they work and graduates of Magic Bus' own programme.

Each Magic Bus group activity is led by a mentor who is in charge of 10 children. The mentor aids the children in developing life skills and instilling in him/her a sense of personal responsibility, respect for others, courage, an ideal of doing one's best, and constantly improving work and
life skills.

Mentors are supposed to act as role models and this is evident when, later in the day, we see them interacting with the children.

"Let's sing a song!" shouts a mentor to a group of girls gathered at the Shivaji Park grounds to honour Heena Javed Shaikh, whose artwork is engraved on IWC's (International Watch Company's) limited edition watch. The girls respond immediately as they would to a trusted family member. In fact, 'family' appears to be the keyword here.
"Yes," says Spacie. "We are one family and we take care of each other."
***
According to a volunteer, close
to 20,000 children from Mumbai slums have been through Magic Bus' programmes. Before its launch, only 40 per cent of the children in the area had attended school. Now the figure stands at nearly 85 per cent, she says.

Even as we are speaking, former captain of the Indian cricket team Kapil Dev arrives, creating a pandemonium. It's a safe bet that none of the children here, the oldest perhaps around 16, has seen him play, yet his toothy grin and unaffected magnetism sets them afire. He and Botham huddle together with the girls, admiring Heena's handiwork while chatting with them.

"I have been to Magic Bus's project before and seen the wonderful work that the project does," says Dev.

"We do what we can, but it is heart-breaking to know that for every child we help, there are perhaps another ten or 100 that we cannot. Hopefully by helping a few, they will be able to become youth leaders themselves and work to improve conditions in their community."

There is a sincerity in his words which is hard to miss. Dev shares a few anecdotes of his life with the children, jokes with them and soon is at ease with the members of the group. He then asks the girls how the project is helping them.

The rapport is immediate and magical and he is soon translating Botham's words for the girls: "I've never been surrounded by so many pretty young ladies before in my life!" This merits a bigger cheer for Botham than perhaps any he's received for his cricketing exploits.

His face flushed with emotion, Botham concedes, "It has been an honour and a privilege to see how sport can bring hope and happiness into the lives of these children who come from such difficult backgrounds. It is a great sadness that so many of them have so little expectation of what most people would regard as a normal life, but at least Magic Bus can make a difference and I have been happy to come and give my support."

Watching all this is Philippe Amarante, IWC's Laureus and event manager. "IWC Schaffhausen
(see box) has been involved in social sponsorship since we became involved with Cousteau Society," he says. "The privileged people on this planet – and we are among them – must do something to help those who are socially, physically or economically disadvantaged.

"Solidarity with the underprivileged is one of IWC's values, and teaming up with the Laureus Foundation and Magic Bus was but natural. The major strength of the Laureus Sport For Good Foundation is the combination of charity and sport at the very
highest level."

Kapil Dev and Botham are lured into a football game with the boys and as the crowds cheer them on, the two legends transform into boys gamely competing for the ball. Their enthusiasm and vigour is infectious and soon the game begins to take on a life of its own.

Game over, the two legends leave the field and prepare to return to their cars which will take them back to their hotels. The children break off into groups, some walking arm over shoulder sharing thoughts about the greats that they rubbed shoulders with while others huddle for a post-match discussion.

Soon it is time to return. The children troop into their bus for the drive back – some to their homes others to orphanages. Heena is
among them.

All of them are silent, tired, a trifle depressed that the day flew by. Then they spot Kapil Dev's and Botham's cars. Suddenly the tired, bedraggled bunch come back to life as they lustily cheer their new heroes. This is one Magic Bus ride they won't forget in a hurry.

– Shiva Kumar Thekkepat is Feature Writer, Friday, and attended the Laureus Foundation/IWC event in Mumbai last month
More info: www.magicbusindia.org