The Homestay In Delhi

Now back to the story…

As we drove away from the airport I looked out the window I saw a world that I couldn't recognize. We kept going deeper and farther away from the city. I saw little shops, and restaurants that I couldn't imagine approaching because the looked like nothing I had ever seen. I was on my way to my new "home and the homes and streets were so foreign an different I just kept thinking, how much time has past, there's still time to get the to "familiar or nicer" section of the city. Then reality hit me, I realized I WAS looking at the nice section, or at the very least the world I would be staying in. Looking back I'm ashamed of myself but also thankful for the new perspective I've been given. The slum in India isn't the same slum in America. The middle class in India isn't the same middle class in America. While I didn't

experience it, it was alluded to me, that the rich in India is the same rich in any country and that makes me wonder about of bunch of sad things.

When we arrived, Sartita, the amazing women who runs the hostel, was out with other volunteers at the market, so her father-in-law greeted us. We all sat outside in the entrance waiting. Again, shamefully, I remember thinking, "what the fuck market were they at, I didn't see any market, and what I did see I sure wasn't going there by myself. And then I remember thinking thank god I'm not alone in all this, even if I didn't "know" anyone I was sitting there with." Looking back I giggle at my notion of what "safe" and "nice" is, what my perspective used to be.

The older man then got a call from Sarita telling him which rooms to put us in. Owen, from Hong Kong was placed somewhere on a lower floor, me and the New Zealand girl were walked to the top floor. The door opened to an outside patio area with a dinning table, a kitchen and three doors. We were led into one of the doors. There were

four beds, two were already occupied by the girls at the market. We chose our beds and dropped our stuff. We started chatting a bit and then the 2 girls arrived back.

These 3 ladies were a gift. I can't express how lucky I am to have met and shared this experience with, they have been imprinted on my heart.

Sarah, from Ireland, Nuala from Bristol, and Selina (yes you read that right Selina) from New Zealand. When Sarah and Nuala arrive we introduced ourselves to them and I found out the young woman we scooped up from the airport has the same name as me. In another weird coincidence she studies at Quinipiac College in Connecticut.

Anyway, we were all very close very quickly and I am thankful for the bonds we forged. After orientation in Delhi, Sarah stayed in to teach in the slums while the rest of our room went 12 hours north to work with Tibetan refugees.

I can honestly say that I would not have the

strength to teach in the slums of Delhi. I'm having a hard time in this moment even thinking about the slums of Delhi. The slums make me cry, the thought of the tent world makes my heart scream with sadness. I know there are smiles and love and community in the slums. I know that life exists there and the people make it work. They have built a world where everyone helps everyone survive and they have created a community. But to walk in and work with the children living in this world you need to be strong in heart to be the person they deserve and need. To do that I would have to mask the pain I feel inside when I see their conditions, and I'm having a hard time doing that just while I write about it. I know the level of emotional energy it takes to do what those children would need. I have spent many years of my life pretending while masking pain and I don't have any energy left in me to do it. I spent a long time thinking about this, it wasn't a snap reaction. I want to go back to India and do more work and I've thought deeply about the different

opportunities available to me to continue to do outreach. I know in my heart that I don't have the tools or emotional strength to teach in the slums of Delhi.

I have so much respect for the young men and women that stayed back to work in the slums. All the people I met, those that stayed in Delhi and those that traveled north, were aged 19-28, with most falling below 24. They are all inspiring with beautiful deep hearts. Listening to them speak gave me hope for progress and the future. Their passions run deep and their energy is unstoppable. I'm thankful to have seen the beautiful side of the coming generation.

The tent cities of India also makes me think about our own homeless population in America. The tent cities are functioning communities. They have schools set up that these young people went to teach in!!! Here we won't allow people to build these communities, they would be an eye sore. Instead people erect their tents in the cover of night and disassemble them before daylight. This doesn't provide the stability and means to create a community, one that may be come a support system of care and help, one that would give hope where

this none. These communities might even aid in the reduction of addiction to drugs. There has been research that shows the idea of belonging and feeling of hope and community could be the biggest indication of success in rehab. Just musings, I don't have a grand plan to fix it, but seeing India certainly sparked some interesting thoughts.

So back to my hostel. On the top floor we shared a bathroom with the two other rooms. The bathroom had a western toilet and a cold running shower and there were about 9-12 of us sharing the bathroom.

One room had other volunteers in it and one room was filled with young Indian girls. While there was a significant language barrier I made an effort to always exchange smiles and greetings with the Indian girls. The day I left I was about to walk down the stairs for the last time, I heard one young girl say, "miss miss please come." She led me into a room and held up a shirt. She pointed to the one she had on and to one she was holding and said "which one you like best?" I was stunned. She was asking me for fashion advice. I doubt it had anything to do with my fashion sense, I had like two outfits with me. I told her which I liked better, but said

both shirts were beautiful. I remember this moment because of how it made me feel. It made me feel like I belonged. And in that moment I knew that my smiles and greetings made her feel connected and her asking my advice gave me a sense of belonging and acceptance.

The human need to be accepted is strong and deep. No matter how much we pretend it doesn't matter, it does. The only control we have is we get to decide whose acceptance matters to us and that's how we survive emotionally. In this moment it meant the world to me that this young girl wanted to connect, because I had already fallen in love with India and I was hopeful that India loved me back. In this moment she represented India and it felt like she may like me a little.

The average temperature was 100 degrees farenhiet and the insane humidity makes it feel more like

120. So we were very thankful for the cold showers since they offered a few moments relief from the heat. However, if you ask any of the Indians, they would say the week before was hot not this week. In their defense, the week prior to my arrival it was so hot people's shoes were melting to the pavement. So I guess they weren't completely wrong.

That first night we learned that we did have what is called an air cooler in the window. It is a big fan with a box around it with a hay or straw lining it, so that when it's filled with water the straw will say moist and when fan blows the air is cooled by the wet straw. I can say the first two nights I thought, air cooler, no air cooler, doesn't matter, that room was flipping hot. I found out quick enough when the power went out that the air cooler makes a HUGE difference. By the end of my stay in Delhi I grew to love that

air cooler, and I was thankful for the few degrees reprieve it gave me from the heat at night.

The neighborhood I stayed in was a revived area, called Faridabad. It has become a growing area with all the things one could need. Remember to suspend your own known concept of what middle class means and see the bustling market where people earn a living and a beautiful park, and there are many community events that are planned for the people.

I would be a liar if I said I wasn't scared at the start. One volunteer immediately demanded to to be brought back to the airport so she could go home. I never even met her, I just heard she simply couldn't take it and needed to get out of India as soon as possible. Which is heartbreaking, because I know she needed India, in a deep dark way. I think maybe it just wasn't her time, she wasn't ready.

It took me a moment to breathe in deep and surrender myself to my new environment and see it

with the fresh eyes to realize that safe was all around me, it was just wrapped in different packaging. I quickly found myself comfortable after my eyes adjusted like they do when someone turns on a bright light in a dark room and you don't know what your looking at until it comes into focus. The beauty of Faridabad came into focus because of Sarita. She ensured we experienced as much as possible and took us on incredible adventures and that became memorable experiences.