Sshrishti

I really do know how to spell, I promise.

Sshrishti is one of many good NGOs in India. Based in Vasant Kunj, it's goal it to provide formal elementary education to children from the slums. This woman started teaching slum children in her home around 2003, and through word of mouth, more and more children began to come. Now, the organization runs learning centers and computers centers around Delhi and other rural villages.

I've been (trying to) teach English there since January, and the space, my lack of Hindi and the overall lack of resources all combine to make the situation a bit hectic.  Still, Sshrishti is always trying to improve what it can offer to the children and all the kids are coming because they want to learn. The resources may be basic, but they make the best use of them. They also get a free midday meal and a minimal amount of health care.

If you want to donate, click on this link and type in "Sshrishti".  This account was just set up, so don't worry if it says that no money has been given to this organization.  I've been told that people should be able to donate with other currencies as well.

The Day of Colors

Holi is my new absolute favoritest holiday. We celebrate the Hindu festival by, of course, attacking each other with color. (You can read about its significance here.) The festivities begin earlier in the week with the occasional water balloon thrown by a child, then a few more attacks on "Choti Holi" (Little Holi), and culminated with a nation-wide color fight and tons of bhang lassi on the much anticipated day.

I stepped outside that morning and was immediately doused with color. The weekend basically consisted of me shooting people from my rickshaw, being overtaken by a band of German children, lots of color (duh), and scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing.

Mid-adventure analysis

 

Since I haven't posted in ages, check out my little article that ran in my school newspaper, The Beacon, this week:  
                                                                                                                                

Over two months since I landed at Indira Gandhi Airport and was whisked off in whirling traffic into the winter of Delhi, India. Since that day, I have picked up some Hindi and learned just how ignorant I am as a US citizen, but mostly I have fallen in love with the many cultures that make up this thriving subcontinent, this hidden beating heart of the world.

If you are looking for a "different cultural experience" while studying abroad, this place will knock you out with its strangeness and then treat you to chai. I have searched for tigers in Ranthambore, prayed and slept and eaten with Sikhs in the Golden Temple, ridden elephants in Jaipur, skied down the Himalayas in Kashmir, danced with Pakistanis at the border…and I have more to go. I am just hoping this is not a dream.

Beyond all that adventure, the things that have made me absolutely flushed with happiness were the people, the dogs, the lives here. We can't help but push up against each other with well over a billion people moving about this country, and we quickly find that the coldness of strangers does not work. People must rely on kindness and care to survive its heaving train cars and alleyways.

At first it was frustrating at times, all that stimuli. People were always questioning me, invading my personal bubble, asking me what I need. They have been so welcoming that sometimes I have to hide under my sheets to just remember my own, lonely breath. For the most part, I've learned to buck up and jump in. After all, India only manages to not rip itself to shreds because of this very hospitality.

And so, I found myself connecting with this crammed place at the strangest of moments: when I shivered through bucket baths and then let the sun beat down on me, when I bopped and bumped and held my bladder all night on the back of a freezing bus, or when I let myself sit on the foul street and talk with the most interesting, kind people.

India has forced me to walk into the places I fear, all those scary smelly spots, and walk out laughing and bubbling inside. This place is not perfect, but it is vibrant. It has me bursting with the sheer joy of being alive. It's only two months (or already two months), and this subcontinent has captured my heart as well. Of course the humidity hasn't set in yet, so my love affair may not last. Get back to me in another two months.

Print version:
http://issuu.com/thebeacon_univ_of_portland/docs/the_beacon_-_march_10_-_issue_19?viewMode=magazine

Online version:
http://www.upbeacon.net/opinion/the-beacon-abroad-1.2104371