Yesterday before we set out for Dharavi, the largest slum in Asia, Mr. Mundra and Mr. Housiaux told us to try to see the people of Dharavi as human beings. Later we discussed the question, What is a good human life? A meaningful human life? I kept pretty silent during the conversation, partly because it’s my nature to guard myself by rarely speaking and partly because I wasn’t sure how to answer the question.
Read MoreI sat at the waist of Mukesh-Bhai as he wrapped his hands around my face, tenderly touching his fore fingers to my temple and steadily pushing on my jugular veins. The instructions were, “No breathing, instant peace”, instructions so vague that in my processing of its words I decided on a binge to hold my breath and hope for the best.
Read MoreAs I stepped out of the Bombay Airport Saturday afternoon, I was struck with an overwhelming sense of familiarity. Not familiarity in the sense that my surroundings were recognizable- the busy streets and the tall structures were anything but familiar to me. It was the heat. The hard-core, unbelievable Memphis-style heat that makes you feel like the sky is pushing down on you with a 5-ton weight.
Over the past few days here, that all-too-familiar heat has followed me. However, instead of reminding me of home, it has only heightened the sense of being in a new place.
Read MoreBeyond the welcome shade of the central tree, large and looming in the middle of the Gramshree Women’s Center, a colorful statue of a mother cradling her child sat content and happy. Eye-catching as this statue was, the most striking thing about it was what lay behind it; a Gramshree woman cradling her own child, personifying the statue just a few feet away.
Read MoreThere is sugar pumping through my veins. It keeps my physical world alive -- hunger, thirst, energy, exhaustion. There is sugar in my lips and in the tips of my fingers, sugar when I swallow and when I close my eyelids. It reminds me of my existence, that I am a tangible, breakable being. I take up space. Sugar tells me I am here. Here, sugar tells me I am.
But coursing through my veins are also questions. Questions, so many questions! They are aggressive and often fight for room. Sometimes the little ones get pushed out of the way and find the need to hide in the crevices of my brain. Which is a shame, because then they never find their answer. But every question is important and deserves some company.
Read MoreI've always considered myself fairly connected with my "inner me." In fact, I've sometimes thought I'm more in-tune to my thoughts and more in-touch with my inner voice than most of my peers. I take the time to slow down and reflect, to sift through my thoughts, to question what I believe in and how I want to live my life, and to just be with myself. But a few minutes ago, as I sat outside and listened to the wise words of Mukesh Bhai, I began to seriously question the way and depth with which I think I know myself.
Read MoreWe’re staying at the Environmental Sanitation institute for a couple days here in Ahmedabad. There’s a stone path that leads to a beautiful mediation sanctuary filled with green fruit trees. Perched on these trees birds sing their songs of joy and peace while we sit on brick benches, listening, learning. To the left there’s a small pond in which green water flows, low hanging braches arc over the peaceful waters. There’s also a guru, a guy so silent you wouldn’t believe. Silence is key. There are red signs at the base of the trees that read words like: Gratitude, Awaken, and Non-violence.
This trip has given me space.
Read MoreHoisting my dehydrated body to sit up upright, I lean my back against the small cushion that sits motionlessly, serving as a soft and furry barrier between me and a white wall slightly stained with black pencil marks. I hear the songs of birds chirping outside. Instead of picking one, I try to take them all in. I hear the chatter of my friends sitting in the common room and the crunching sound of seaweed under their teeth. Sweat drops are slowly dripping from my thighs and neck with the timidity of kids afraid to climb back down from a tree they clambered on top of despite all the warnings. I hear fresh water pouring down into one of the metal cups from the water dispenser, causing bubbles to climb up to the surface. I venture to part the wooden windows that were clumped together like sealed lips and the sunlight enters our room with a disturbing haste, darting through the lackadaisical pilgrimage of gliding dust particles. In defeat, I rise up to my feet to turn on the fan suspended from the center of our ceiling. My action results in a repellent vortex of ventilation that disperses the dust and sets curtains into motion. The glaring light of my laptop screen, the methodical sound of water drops coming from the shower, my friends’ constant typing on their keyboards, and the swaying of flowers outside.
Read More10:55 AM. I was not the person I am at this moment just 6 hours back. Not that the changes that have occurred in me will be lasting; that does not matter as much to me so far as exploring the person I am right now.
Read MoreStirring in me is gratitude about our presence at ESI, where there is an increased focus on mindfulness and compassion. We have entered so many communities and interacted with so many people in the last few days. These people live in smaller spaces with different amenities and may lack basic material resources. The more I learn about these people, the more hypocrisy I can sense in my own life.
Read MoreThere are certain moments that absorb words. I feel silent now. I feel full. And now I have 90 minutes to craft something deep about my inner thoughts when all I want to do is walk barefoot through the Environmental Sanitation Institute’s shaded paths or write poems about the wind in the trees. My mind doesn’t exist in any one place right now. How to reduce? That is always my frustration with writing—and also my favorite part. Writing is all about pulling an image and molding it so that you can very nearly hold it in your hands, sift it through your fingers—what is its name? I am always doing this here, pulling out pieces of my day and defining them, locking them in my mind through pictures made tangible with words.
Read MoreOne week before our last race, we try rowing with our eyes closed. Our orientation within the boat forgotten, we shut out the water sliding beneath us, the banks arcing up on either side, the motor boat careening past on the left. I am weightless. Behind me, seven girls close their eyes, their only goal to mirror my movements exactly. Eight bodies rowing as one.
I am alone.
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