My Days

I teach.

I teach my kids about Art. I tell them that art is something we make. We create. That is something all of us can do, whether we are good at it or not. I tell them that Art means dancing. Singing. Drawing. Painting. Writing. The boys insist that playing cricket is art too, so that's included. I watch their eyes widen at the sight of Starry Night by Van Gogh on my grainy, laptop screen. I ask them what they see. How it makes them feel. One child tells me the picture is quiet. Another, that it makes him feel alone.

I teach them about the power of imagination. Which is called kalpana in Hindi. I tell them to close their eyes and imagine they are at a beach. And that water is lapping at their feet. And the sand is hot under their toes. Than, I ask them if they left the classroom. They open their eyes and say, no. And yes.

We write stories together. I provide the first sentence and I ask them to continue the story as they see fit. Words are shouted at me and we work together on placing them within the context of a full English sentence. The beautiful girl walked down the road. An alien came and stole her away. The prince rescued her.There is always a prince and a princess to my children. Sometimes a happy ending. Sometimes not. But love throughout.

I teach them to embrace individuality. To not copy. To be different. That they don't need to apologize to me when they misspell a word. That it is alright to make mistakes.

They teach.

I learn what it means to discover a child's personality without the benefit of a common language. That emotions can be read in the face. That teaching is HARD. That all my children, save one, love to draw. I learn how to comfort a crying child without speaking a word. I discover that they are hardly, if ever, encouraged to use their minds for something other than memorizing facts to pass an exam. That their teachers at school hit them when they get an answer wrong. That they have never seen the ocean. That they all wish to go to London. I learn how to entertain 50 five-year-olds through the blessed game of Simon Says. I learn how to make a mechanical car from a cell phone box and a battery and a set of cheap wheels. I learn the joy of walking into a classroom and having twelve students stand up and push at each other to be the first to ask "How are you today, Mam'am?"

I learn that telling a child that she is great makes her believe she might be.

I learn that having a child tell me the same makes me believe I might be too.

The Taj Mahal...If You're Into That Kind of Thing

Dawn over the Indian countryside seen from the train

The two coolest people in India

Ah, the Taj Mahal. Not unlike how the Eiffel Tower has become the (undesired) image of Paris, so has this monument secured itself as the image that the world has of India. Visiting it, I wasn't sure if my excitement rested in the knowledge that I was actually seeing the Taj and, therefore, crossing that monumental image off my bucket list - or if it stemmed from an actual desire to, well, see the Taj. It likely doesn't matter. Whether my breath was taken away because I expected it to be, or because I was overwhelmed by the immensity of the tomb itself, I was still impacted by my visit. The gleaming white marble, the pleasing symmetry, the precious-stone inlays - the way that the tomb promised quiet in its very nature, despite the deafening noise that came from the overwhelming crowds surrounding it. The nature of the people themselves - from oddly-dressed tourists to traditional Indian families, everyone seemed awed by the same thing.

The Yamuna River, as seen from above

Leaving the tomb, Geeti and I sat on the preciously cool marble and gazed out at the Yamuna River that skirts behind the complex. The river, the largest tributary to the sacred Ganga, weaves slowly and heavily below the large marble terrace of the Taj Mahal. On its banks, across from the complex, sits the ruined foundation of the second Taj Mahal, the uncompleted sister tomb meant to house its creator. To the right, the mighty, red walls of the old Agra Fort can be seen. A boat made its way slowly across the river and I watched its progress from above, the Taj behind me, a permanent observer of the river and all her changes. Where she had once been mighty and clean, the Yamuna has borne her own struggles - not from age or rust or neglect - but from steady and increasing pollution, exploitation and overuse. I have read about the plight of the river systems in India for years. Seeing it up close,  at the base of one of the most famous sites in the world, stirred in me a sadness I wasn't quite prepared for.

We visited the Agra Fort and explored its maze of interior palaces and complexes, terraces and hidden stair wells. No where near as properly preserved as the Taj Mahal, the deterioration of its once vibrant frescos and tile work added its own beauty and magic to the expansion of rooms and vaulted ceilings. We spent two happy hours there, marveling at a relic of ancient India surrounded by a modern city and hugged by a timeless, yet ever-changed river.

Fort Entrance - see the old, blue tiles?

As Geeti and I watched the sunset over the passing fields and villages as our train made its way southbound - to home -  I was reminded of what Diana Eck said about India: that India must be seen to be known. One can see all of life, death and suffering in the same glimpse in this country. It is overwhelming and intriguing, repulsive and beautiful in the same breath. But, its India. And, yesterday, I got to experience just a little more.

Yum Yum

A video the travel agency that runs the Foundation put out, featuring the many culinary delights of this country. A later post to describe, in detail, my favorite and not so favorite food experiences. Num Num Num.

http://vimeo.com/58313264

Mam'am - DANCE!

My kids LIVE to dance. They know all the movies and all the moves. So, here - a few snapshots of our latest rooftop dance party.

Some of my favorite ladies

Please, Mam'am - dance...

Cajoled into dancing (attempting)

Looking down to find myself, shockingly, off time

I whip my hair back and forth...Rajasthani style

Bringing it on home.

The kid is a rockstar. No joke. 

AT DAWN WE RIDE!

Here

Started to rain this evening, so I sneaked out of my class during snack time and raced up to the roof to see the clouds roll in. Desert girls always do this. Felt like home.

Yoga every morning is becoming my routine now, coupled with deep breathing techniques. The insistent shrieking of rickshaw horns and vegetable wallahs drifts though my veranda curtains as I practice and I let it just swirl and settle around me. Yoga in India has my gym back home beat.

My kids all beg to play Hangman now, which I have taught them and allow them to play as a reward for finishing their work. Perhaps shamefully, I have also taught my youngest to fist-bump and say "awesome." So, when I come in and they all rise to greet me and I ask them how they are, I am hailed by an abundant chorus of "Awesome, Amy-Mam'am." Not sure how the directors will feel about this when they come visit in two weeks time.

And, another week begins. Looking forward to traveling soon, but also resolving to remain present. When I feel myself drift away, I just take a breath and remind myself to be here.

Can't stop listening to this song. Enjoy - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T94PHkuydcw