Birthday time...

Three weeks in Mumbai! Three weeks of running through traffic, trying to squeeze myself onto local buses and trains, walking endlessly around crowded marketplaces, whipping out my umbrella at the first sigh of raindrops, complaining incessantly about the weather, looking for a house, trying to convert that house into a home, food hunting, getting sick of wada-pavs, getting sick generally, familiarizing myself with street names, meeting old friends, making new ones, getting lost in Marathi-speaking crowds, trying to get my kids to speak English, trying to actually get them to stop speaking, period, yelling myself hoarse to no avail, bribing them with every method possible (still of no avail), singing songs of six little sucks making melodies (have to try that!), trying to gauge the english and maths levels, losing all my levels in the process, and listening to a cab driver tell me I should get married soon since I have a poorly paying job (I may have twisted the numbers)......

All this, and I choose to write my blog the night before my birthday. Well, 2 minutes before, but close enough.

Mumbai has been a maze of mixed emotions, but it is a city I'm slowly getting used to. My classroom, my kids, my school, my home - all of these are interspersed with the city. And over the next one year, I don't know what it's going to throw at me. I'm sure it'll be a lot, what with the pending infamous monsoons, to the stifling humidity this city is known for. My kids may continue to shout every single day, making me lose my voice altogether, or they may just decide to give me a few minutes of their time and actually bother studying. I might just end up transforming myself in ways that I never expected, or I might remain exactly the way I am.

Who knows? Not me. But there is one line often used at TFI, a line that speaks volumes......

Bah screw it!!!

IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!!

The beginning of an entirely new beginning

This is it. Five weeks of institute are up. Four years of college are up. Two years of boarding school are up. Sixteen years of home life are up. This is it.

Now it’s time to step out into that crazy wild thing people call the world, to meet the crazier people that live comfortably in that chaos, and to become one among the many crazy out there. In other words, it’s time to move out of home, out of campus, out of college, and into the city of Mumbai as a member of the grown-up working world.

It’s going to be a new city, a new job, an almost new country, and a whole new life.

That’s a scary thought. Slightly exhilarating, true, but scary nonetheless.

Institute at TFI was an absolutely amazing time. It was the most inspiring, motivating, rejuvenating atmosphere I’ve ever been in. A group of young individuals working together for a common cause – not because it would look good on their resume, not because they couldn’t get any other job, not because they felt they’re doing a favour – but because they truly believe in the cause. Five weeks spent working, teaching, learning, eating, playing, laughing, crying, living with these people is enough to bring us close.

But like I said, the five weeks are now up.

Everyone has gone their own way. Of the 150 fellows who joined at our institute, a third have gone to Delhi, another third to Pune, and the remaining have come to Bombay. Even here, however, we have all spread out across the city, some going back to their homes, others desperately trying to find a home. We’re going to be placed in schools across the city, no longer having each other constantly to work, teach, learn, eat, play, laugh, cry and live with.

It’s going to be me. And my new school. And my new kiddos. And my new house. And my new life.

And that’s still a scary thought. 

The end of a new beginning

Four weeks, 20 days. Are they enough to form a connection? Are they enough to impact your life forever? Are they enough to make you believe, to question, to wonder, to be amazed, to be overwhelmed, to doubt, to cry, to laugh?

The last 20 days certainly were. The last four weeks at Pune have been like a page out of someone else’s story: me, a teacher? Me, teaching maths and English to 5^th graders? Me, standing in front of 15 kids and talking non-stop for an hour? Me, trying to change their life for the better, while changing my own in the process?

Yeah, that was me.

My first day at summer school certainly counts amongst the most nerve-racking days in my life. Seeing all those children in front of me, staring back as they calmly waited for me to take the lead made me realize that this was it: I had to start being a leader. Gone were the days when I could live under the comfort of other leaders. If I’m going to take up the responsibility of transforming the lives of children, I need to start by attempting to be that leader they deserve.

Transforming is a heavy word, and it’s also a word used very frequently at TFI. We aim to transform ourselves, our classrooms, our communities, and eventually our country. Of course, summer school was but a baby step towards that transformation.

I taught grade 5 with three other fellows, and it was our responsibility to help our children grow, to push them towards excellence. Today, on the last day of summer school, I began to see glimpses of that change. Four weeks ago, we had the quietest class I could have ever imagined, too timid to speak, or perhaps, too afraid. But as we stood waving a final goodbye to our kids today, giving them the usual high-fives and the not-so-usual hugs, their aura was of utmost confidence. They could approach us with any questions, joke with us, laugh with us, and learn with us. 

A few names stand out:

Shraddha: The quiet one. I went to her house for my community visit, and was absolutely humbled to see her 8 by 8 house and the hospitality of her family. I also got to see the fun and outgoing side of her which had been non-existent in the classroom. Ever since that visit, I think (or perhaps hope) there has been a slight change in her behavior, and she seems more comfortable in the class as well.

Prasannata: The genuinely sweet one. Quiet, calm, dignified and mature. She stood out in a classroom filled with mainly girls just because of her simplicity. She quietly worked on everything we did, and spoke confidently of her dream of becoming a doctor. I’m really going to miss her simple sweetness!

Purnima: The smart one. And the amazing dancer! And the awesome cricket player! I was absolutely amazed to see her variety of interests and talents, and her ability to still focus on her studies and get fabulous grades!

Mufaddal: The sweetheart! Clearly our favourite kid in the class! He was the liveliest student, absolutely animated in every action he did, completely engaged and engaging, and could never get his numerators and denominators right!!! His eyes would light up when he got the answer (or rather, understood why he did not get the answer), and he would constantly pester us to play dhinka chika in class (thank you yet again, sallu bhai!). Seeing him on stage today hosting our showcase and then dancing solo to gasolina was an absolutely amazing sight! I’m going to miss this kid so much!!!

Hrithik: The indescribable one. I still remember the first day when he entered our class, and saw 12 girls sitting inside, his mouth fell open in shock – and since then, it has never gone back up again! He always had a lost look on his face, and struggled to grasp basic maths concepts. He was far behind the class, and never spoke up at all. It was a challenge just to get him to answer a question. And then today, at our showcase, he had a 3-sentence long dialogue. I remember asking him several times if he felt he could do it, and each time he nodded his head and smiled. And when he went on stage, I sat on the side twisting my fingers in nervousness. He went up, took the mike, and confidently said the whole dialogue without hesitation! I think that was the proudest moment of my time at institute, and in that moment I saw clearly the potential that this little kid has in him, and how much it was suppressed behind his fear. Today, I saw Hrithik smiling, laughing, talking, even dancing! To me, he embodies the sense of possibility that we talk about so often at TFI.

And now, having spent all this time with these kids and having become so close to them, it's so hard to say goodbye to them, knowing in all likelihood I may never see them again. Who would come to me during break and say "Didi didi play character dheela!"? Who will tell me to my face in the middle of a lesson that she is getting bored? Who will give me such hard high-fives that my hands go completely red?

And the most important question: Who will push these kids to tap their potential and follow their dreams? I dread the answer.

Someone told me that I shouldn't get too attached to these kids, because it'll make it all that much harder to leave them. That's completely true, bu at the same time, one of my favourite quotes keeps coming back at me:

"Every song ends. Is that any reason not to enjoy the music?"