So glad you could be there, Dr. Saundarya Rajesh (also a former Trustee of Prajnya) and Karthik Ekambaram!
Since our inception, we have been reluctant to accept donations from NRI friends and supporters of Prajnya. However, it has recently been brought to our notice that while we cannot receive funds from foreign passport holders, PIOs and OCIs, we can in fact accept your donation if you hold an Indian passport. You just need to make sure we have a copy of your passport on file.
Q.8 Whether donation given by Non-Resident Indians (NRIs) is treated as ‘foreign contribution’?
Ans. Contributions made by a citizen of India living in another country (i.e., Non-Resident Indian), from his personal savings,through the normal banking channels, is not treated as foreign contribution. However, while accepting any donations from such NRI, it is advisable to obtain his passport details to ascertain that he/she is an Indian passport holder.
Q.9 Whether donation given by an individual of Indian origin and having foreign nationality is treated as ‘foreign contribution’?
Ans. Yes. Donation from an Indian who has acquired foreign citizenship is treated as foreign contribution. This will also apply to PIO card holders and to Overseas Citizens of India. However, this will not apply to ‘Non-resident Indians’, who still hold Indian citizenship.
This comes as a great relief to us in a year when our fundraising drive in April-May was not very successful; our human resources are at an all-time low; we have an office and an administrator’s salary to pay for and not quite enough in the bank. You’ve asked repeatedly about donating. Today is when we really need your help.
This is how you can donate:
Please email us <firstname.lastname@example.org> to inform us of your donation, donation date, amount and transaction details. And don’t forget to attached a scanned copy of the ID pages of your Indian passport.
It’s almost two weeks since we opened this year’s fundraising drive.
This year, we are hoping to raise just INR 300,000/- towards the cost of the 2014 Prajnya 16 Days Campaign against Gender Violence. Much of this whatever we raise–acknowledging that we have never raised our full asking amount–goes towards the salary of the Campaign Associate/Coordinator and in the last two years, the Media Associate. Both of them work 24/7 and then some in the four weeks preceding the campaign and the campaign fortnight. Increasingly, their work stretches till the end of December, as we do more programmes that require reports and follow-up, and campaign report-writing gets more complicated with more diverse programming. Even with these two people working that hard and the couple of us that end up working full-time but honorarily with them, we are usually physical wrecks by mid-December. But selective amnesia starts to kick in and we recall the season’s buzz and start planning again almost right away, just holding ourselves back by saying, “We really should wait for the Campaign to be in place and besides, we don’t know how much money we will have.”
We end up being so tired post-campaign that we have put a “sabbatical” system in place. After every three years, we stop for a break. (Yes, I know a sabbatical happens once in seven years, but believe me, campaign years leave you exhausted as if you’ve packed the work of two years into one!)
The 2014 Campaign will be the third in our second cycle of campaigns. In this campaign, we will want to replay every idea that worked in the last two years, do it better, do it more and push for maximum impact. We will want to bring together the people we have worked with. We will want to set the agenda for the work of the sabbatical year. We will want to tie up loose ends on processes that have taken two years to gain momentum. This is an important year for us.
Next year, there will be no campaign.
And the fact is, this year too, there will be no campaign if we do not raise any money for it. And in these two weeks, we have only one donation in the till–the starter donation I made. Not just the campaign, actually, if our resource mobilization does not improve so that we can scale up if just enough to do work that’s now becoming possible, then we will have to shut our doors altogether. But that’s the subject of another blog-post.
I want to tell you–if I haven’t already–why we come to individuals for donations every year. In the beginning, it was because only our friends and families would support us. Who else would back untried, untested people trying to do something they could not guarantee would work?
Over the years, especially for the 16 Days Campaign, we have come to love the idea that the campaign happens because of a community of individuals who tell us over and over: This is important work. This cause, this work, are important to us. We appreciate your efforts and we think you should continue to make them. With each donation, this is the message we get from you. Therefore, we tell ourselves, that when you give again and again, you reaffirm your support to this cause: to end the silence around gender violence, and ultimately, the violence itself. As each donor joins this caravan for the first time, and as the caravan grows, it becomes a force that no one can resist. Individual donations matter to us, because they speak of a growing community around this cause.
People suggest to us we approach companies for sponsorship. We could, I suppose, but in the beginning, Prajnya and the campaign felt like saplings whose identity–astitva or brand–we needed to shelter and nurture. And then again, who would have sponsored us in 2008? But then, we fell in love with this idea of people choosing to be part of our journey by giving, by working with us, by sharing something they had (a skill, a network, a resource, a space), and now, I don’t want a gift to the campaign to be a financial or marketing decision. Companies do occasionally make donations to the campaign, but we know them so we know they are made from a sense of citizenship, from a commitment to equality and justice and because they have come to believe in this work. And they are gifts without strings, not sponsorship.
Moreover, it now seems so much more meaningful when people and organizations consciously join us in small ways. It’s a much bigger contribution to our work. I don’t want support for the 16 Days Campaign, in particular, to be a business decision. It must be a citizenship decision, a humanitarian decision, a justice decision–a conscious, mindful decision.
And so I sit here thinking, why have I not seen a single deposit or cheque in two weeks of a six-week fundraising drive? I can think of three reasons: donor fatigue, “bystander effect” and procrastination.
What happens if we don’t raise this money? It’s very simple. We simply won’t do the campaign this year.
Your gifts are our gauge. When you give, we read: This is a good thing to do and it would be useful to do it again this year. When you don’t give, we read: This may no longer be a useful thing to do. And it’s fine to send us that message. We will move away from the campaign and find other ways to be useful.
But do we think the campaign still has utility as an advocacy tool? We do.
Let us know what you are thinking. This is our society, our problem; this is your campaign too.
I want to finish by thanking you for reading this, and for all your support in the past. I want to share with you once more our fundraising appeal for this year, and invite you to give and/or to share with others who might.
We are in the middle of the two-day film festival on gender violence, Our Lives… to Live. Day 1 was great, a packed hall, rapt audience, great films, old friends and new.
The highlight (for me, Swarna) was this:
A frail, elderly gentleman slowly ambled up the ramp, slightly breathless, visibly tired by the auto-journey, saying, “I have never been here before although I have been getting their invitations for years. The signboard is too small.” He then asked for some water and went to settle down in the auditorium. He had taken our brochures and gender violence handouts in with him. Three hours later he emerged, sought out Anupama and apologized for having to leave (“I can’t sit for much longer”) and said he would try to return on Day 2. Also, he would like to make a donation. He left a hundred rupee note with us.
What a precious donation! When I think of him, coming all the way by auto from Villivakkam, sitting on a ‘naarkaali’ (a chair, this one wooden) for three hours, and then going back all the way by auto… he spent almost 600 rupees surely and a whole afternoon, just to watch these films… but thought too of giving something to our work. This gift is very precious to us.
The concern, the commitment, the support we saw in him buoyed our spirits no end.
People ask: So who funds you? That’s the answer: people like him. They fund us, they encourage us and they reinforce our commitment to doing what we can, as we can, where we can.