Last Entry - Tears and Laughter and Joy

So much behind a simple door

My blog hasn't quite caught up with fast old me. Already having left India, I write this on my porch looking at my garden and the slowly descending Arizonan sun. I have already been gone from India for almost two weeks, yet it feels like just yesterday that I spent my days in yoga, teaching and exploration. Now, a new kind of exploration is set to take place and, indeed, new adventures await. As they always always do. However, before starting any new adventure, it is always best to reflect on what encompassed the past adventure. Fears, happiness, people, places, language, sights, smells - so much initially to absorb and now to reflect on.

It would be impossible to describe all that has happened to me since my last blog posting, describing the thrilling act of playing Holi. We celebrated Easter together and I lead 72 children in their very first Easter egg hunt over palace gardens. We reviewed our lessons and danced in traditional Rajasthani dress. I traveled back to Delhi and to Mumbai and than to London and than to Washington DC before finally reaching home.

My last breakfast, brought to me by faithful BimSingh

I am reminded of my last morning spent in Jaipur before taking the train to Delhi. I woke early and dressed quickly, than walked out along the main road in the hazy dawn sun. I passed the shrine to Lord Hanuman (the monkey god) on my left and watched school girls with braided hair touch the floor in honor of him as as holy man threw a bucket of water over the steps to clean them. I bought flowers as a gift for my supervisor at a local shop,where the owner gave me a single red rose as a gift and told me he loved America. Carrying the heavily wrapped bouquet with me down Civil Lines, women sweeping the ever present dust from their doorways smiled at me behind their brightly colored dupattas. I hurried to my last yoga class with my teacher, Manisha, and we completed our last poses together with smiles and cheer. Geeti and I shared one last breakfast together (complete with our imported French jam) and sipped our sweet coffee in the sun.

I spent my last day at the Foundation surrounded by so many children, I could barely breathe. They all wanted to touch me, hug me, kiss me and place yet more bangles on my already jewelry laden arms. I kissed cheeks, wiped tears and held the little hands of arms attached to bodies attached to faces attached to personalities I have come to know slowly and over time. Afreen's sensitivity. Vedpul's natural intellect. Avash's confidence. Shifa's artistic ability. Kiran's determination to excel. Tanya's beauty. Kashih's desire to be loved.

Little Women

With my little ones - my Sunflower class - I will miss their chipper voices calling out to me, "You looking good today, mam'am!" Their desire to be as close to me as physically possible when I sat on the floor with them. Our handgame called January, February that we play in a circle and which I always allow myself to lose. With the older classes, I will miss their curious questions and inquisitive natures. Their unquenchable thirst to learn new things Of these children, I became close with too many of them to begin to list them by name here. Little Mehak, with her spectacles - tears in her eyes as I told her to read the newspaper and never stop studying. Tall and quiet Govind, giving me one last story to read on the plane. Mehzabi who always gave me the biggest and most generous hugs.

And the teachers? The beautiful, shining, proud, curious, determined women who laughed and cried and danced with me throughout my months there? There are not words enough, in English or Hindi, to describe the bond of friendship we will forever share together. Ruksar, Priyanka, Geeta, Ruchi, Payal, and Soonam. As dear to me as sisters and so painful to say goodbye. We kissed and hugged each other and my last image is of them waving farewell to me on the Tushita steps as we drove away into the night.

Dancing together one last time

And Geeti? My teaching partner, fellow explorer and closest friend in India? I could not have asked for a better person to share my time with. A friend I sincerely hope I will have for years to come.

I will end this final entry with not my own words, but rather the words of shy and creative Govind. Who brought me his stories to read and correct every week, who blushed when he talked to me and who reminded me of myself at his age. Eager for my budding talent to be vindicated. To have someone assure me of the worth in writing. To feel special. I hope I did for him what so many teachers did for me.

Laughing with my Indian family

Story: A Girl

Once there was a city. There lived a girl. Her name was Amy. She went to like so many places and studied there's language and saw there people's life. She had so many powers .She went to here used her powers and change into the beautiful place. She live on the tree of mango because she like mango. She live a happy life.

Thank you India. For showing me more love than I ever could have imagined. For teaching me patience and how to find God in the act of simply breathing.  For showing me how inextricably beauty and suffering are joined. For making me laugh at a wide range of public spelling and grammatical mistakes (Best Hair Saloon, Big Cock Fireworks) and breaking my heart with your scenes of despair and the rawness of poverty. For the rooftop terrace at the Foundation and the many evenings I spent there watching the sun set over the surrounding mountains. The last brightness of the day shining between the ramparts of the Rajput wall dipping over the hills and the village spread out before me. For giving me scenes of sari-clad women sweeping the side of freeways and men bent over old Singer sewing machines in a row, mending clothes day after day. For the sweet taste of gulab jamun and halva and the spiciness of green chilies and the gentle warmth of fresh chipatti on my tongue.

Govind concluded my story with "she live a happy life." What lies before me is something only God can know. But I pray I will lead a happy life. Even more,I pray that conclusion for all the lives of all the children and the people I encountered during my four months in the "disorganized caprice" that is India - that they live a happy life. And that we meet again.

They woke with me at 4:30am to see me off the train. And waved until it finally departed.  

I will leave you, dear readers, with this final piece of advice - always travel. Travel within your heart and your mind and with your body. Go beyond what you think you can do and test the deep waters of your fear. It will always be worth it. Dive in.

Namaskar.