Goonj does not just give clothes to the needy. It gives them a bit of their dignity back

“Drama or fake photography is not allowed”—the moment I enter Goonj’s cloth processing centre, the poster grabs my attention. That is a rather unusual message right at the entrance of an NGO, I say to myself. But then, that is how Goonj is— unconventional, unpretentious, and if the statistics are to be believed, ubiquitous. Goonj began rather unconventionally. Anshu Gupta, the founder, was working on a story on Habib—a professional collector of unclaimed bodies—during his journalism days. It was then that he came across the most obvious, yet blatantly ignored, reality—the human need for clothes. Once, while accompanying Habib to Khooni Darwaza (near Delhi Gate) to collect a body, Gupta saw that the insufficiently-clad man had died as he could not survive the cold. The scene haunted Gupta’s conscience. “During winters, it is not the cold that kills. I survive winter every year. What makes all the difference is the clothing. I survive the biting cold of this city because I have sufficient layers of clothing to protect me while some person does not,” says Gupta. This was the thought that later became “the peg” behind the cloth movement now called Goonj. Today, Goonj is not just providing clothes to those who don’t have them. The organisation is also giving people their right to a dignified life. While clothes do certainly fall under the category of the bare essentials—roti, kapda aur makan—they also symbolise a social standing and give a sense of confidence to the person wearing them. Gupta feels agitated when people call their ceremonial giving away of used clothes, an act of charity. His question is: how can you say that your are ‘donating’ clothes, when clearly clothes you are ‘discarding’ them? He believes that there has to be a shift from ‘donor’s pride’ to ‘receiver’s dignity’. And that, the so-called donors have to understand that the people using the clothes are in fact doing them a service, not vice-versa. In 1998, when Escorts, the corporate house where Gupta worked, closed down, he decided that “no tie or black shoe will be needed again”. In 1999, armed with nothing (not even a back-up plan, money or job), but with his life partner, Meenakshi, and a few friends in tow, Gupta started Goonj. However, he did not have a clear notion of how the NGO would function. Goonj happened because there was a kind of junoon (passion), he felt. He knew that he had to work in this field. Today, Goonj is leaving its clear mark—it has a presence in 21 states in the country, sends away 45,000 kilos of clothes per month across and is a respected name in the NGO sector. The impact has been so voluminous that people have started emulating the core idea; some are good replicas, others not so. This does not unnerve Gupta, who, right at the beginning, had decided to expand an idea and not an organisation. “We are giving the copyright to copy our ideas,” he says with a grin. However, things were not so successful right from the beginning. In the initial years, Goonj’s core team did all the physical labour such as collecting clothes, washing them, sorting them out and then fixing them, within themselves. Slowly, as the NGO’s reputation spread through word of mouth, people started joining them. And Goonj began to grow. One of the key reasons behind the growth was the organisational skill. Gupta believes that charity is scalable and that any NGO can stay afloat if they can get their act together. “What did Mother Teresa or Baba Amte do? Theirs was certainly a charitable act. I think what helps in scaling-up is not a business model, but the thought process and system,” explains Gupta. He certainly practices what he preaches. One sweeping look inside the rooms of the processing centre, and one knows their secret. Everything, from a small pin to a bedsheet, has a separate space where it is carefully placed. Every material is marked differently, packed differently, and distributed separately. A system has been put in place and is followed rigorously. Though Goonj began with clothes, it has now started distributing stationary items, utensils, medicines, footwear, and most importantly, sanitary napkins to those who need them, yet fail to understand its importance. Parallel to their distribution programme, Goonj runs awareness programmes educating women about menstrual cycles, personal hygiene and encouraging them to talk about taboo issues. No one has ever won a race without jumping off hurdles. The race for Goonj is still on. As Gupta says, “Some challenges have not changed and will not change.” He finds people’s attitude to be the biggest roadblock. People, who happily spend a pretty penny for fancy jackets and caps for awareness campaigns and walks, but are reluctant to spend even half of that amount on collecting clothes for the needy. Perhaps, because it is not a fashionable enough cause. His second-biggest hurdle: cynicism of people and authorities concerned. There is a huge trust deficit towards the NGO sector, which Gupta insists must go. Finally, he believes that funds and logistics will always remain an issue. As his organisation keeps growing, these problems too expand. All this does not stop him from surging forward. Diligently, the Goonj team is working towards the goal of giving people their right to life and dignity back. At the end of my tour, the lasting impression is the smiling faces of women at the processing centre. They wish me luck. As I walk away, their voices fade, but what stays behind is a memory of a lifetime.