Reflections

I remember it like it was yesterday, even though four months and five days is not that long ago, arriving in India. I was terrified, excited, nervous and free. I took a two day journey from the United States, stopped over in Germany and then headed down to Southern India. It was here that I would start to find myself while helping others learn about the world and in turn help them find their place in it.

Today is a day of reflection for me. Not only because I have 20 hours of travel, but also because it was my last day in Joseph Nagar, the place I have called home since April.

My first day in Joseph Nagar actually started off in a slightly bigger town 45 minutes away where a teeny-tiny, white-haired, nun who donned coke bottle glasses picked me up. She seemed stern and experienced but I could tell there was something under that gruff exterior that I would love. She ushered the other volunteer and me home with little conversation, making me that much more nervous. I had no idea what to expect and the silence carried the weight of thousands of questions that my mind was trolling over. But teeny-tiny nun did not crack.

After what seemed like an endless ride down horrendous roads, and I am being kind, we arrived at a small gated property. The jeep rolled to a stop in front of 50 some odd girls all holding flowers and four nuns scattered amongst the children. As soon as the doors of the car opened little hands started grabbing, little eyes glistened with curiosity, little lips were parted to reveal little teeth who wanted to show us how happy they were to have us. Then the little lips started singing a very big and boisterous song. Looking back on it now I cannot remember one word of the song but I could feel the warmth, joy and pure unconditional love that was powering it. That first day, just like this last day - I cried.

That first day I was so overwhelmed. So many children and all vying for my attention and affection. I was in a completely new country, in a completely new town, with completely new people and a drastically different culture. I thought I had done enough research to feel comfortable immersing myself into Indian life with numerous abandoned or neglected girls. Boy was I wrong. It is such a strange and incomprehensible feeling being surrounded by people trying to talk to you and you to them and neither side understanding. Especially when they are so adorable and they are trying so hard and nothing is getting through to me besides their beaming smiles.

That day I remember walking back up to my room, 30 or more curious children trailing behind, closing the door and thinking, “Holy crap! What did I get myself into? I cannot handle all of this. Who am I to think I can influence these kids? Why did I not learn their language before I came? Why did I worry about what to wear when these kids have three outfits? Why does the world chose certain people to be born into a privileged live and others to be born into a life of desperation and pain?” I had a mild panic attack that day and then again today when I realized that I was truly leaving 82 of the most amazing girls I have ever met. Ever.

Over the past four months I have learned the answers to all of my questions on the freaked out day and I have been educated in ways that even schooling at the most prestigious universities can’t teach you. For that I am grateful.

These children have taught me more about love and pain, kindness and tragedy, appreciation and greediness, and education and learning than I could have ever fathomed. For every wonderful and positive thing I am writing about there is also a horrible one (which I will not write about because it is in their past and they, as we all should, are moving forward). But in most situations, as only a child can do, the children have prevailed and still have the ability to love unconditionally.

This ability to love after all the pain and suffering they have been through makes me respect and cherish them even more. I will miss every single child, but leaving has shown me that - yes my favorite children, the ones I spent the most time with were impacted by my time here, but the ones that rarely spoke and never really directly interacted with me were, I dare say, even more impacted. They were the ones who were crying, writing me farewell notes, asking me not to leave and telling me how much they loved me. It touched my heart and made me feel so honored to have had the opportunity to meet each of them. Sometimes your actions do not get rewarded immediately, sometimes they never get rewarded, and sometimes you get rewarded in ways that you could have never imagined at times when it is the last thing on your mind. Coming here I thought that I would have the most impact on them but in all truthfulness it is them who have impacted and educated me. These last few days have been extremely rewarding and I wish I could convey to you just how my heart feels right now.

It is just numb, numb because I don’t want to let the sorrow of leaving them overpower the love, joy and happiness I have for them. It is just floating, suspended, being pulled by opposite emotions. I suppressed my sadness in front of the children, only letting them see a few tears fall, because I wanted them to be happy that I was able to be with them and remember that. Not to be sad that I was leaving and yet again feel like someone who is supposed to love them is just getting all their hopes up and then crushing them by leaving them alone again.

It is a conversation I have had with the other two volunteers I was able to work with. Is coming and volunteering with the girls for a short period worth perpetuating and confirming their negative experiences of being abandoned by those people who are supposed to love them?

I still can’t answer this question and probably never will be able. But I do know that I will always love them, think of them, email them and write them. I will also see them one more time before I depart India. And that makes me happy.