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Pencils, pepper and the Meghalaya Boys
Contributed by: The Art of Living Foundation on 3/25/2008

"What kind of volunteer work would you like to do?" His Holiness Sri Sri Ravi Shankar asked me.

"I am willing to do anything." I replied.

The next thing I know, I am up to my ears in little boys. Thirty three playful little boys, running, jumping, playing, yelling, screaming and not listening. HHSS Ravi Shankar,the well known spiritual teacher who founded the Art of Living Foundation and the Association for Human Values had given me a challenge. Both organizations are dedicated to serving humanity by empowering the individual and this project is one of many of their global peaceinitiatives. I really needed empowerment now!

I was assigned to work with the 33 children he had adopted in July 2007, from the region of Meghalaya, in North Eastern India, so that these children could be given an education and a better life. Their parents, knowing this, had gratefully allowed them to come to South India to live on the ashram. Meghalaya has been very much impacted by terrorism and the communities have been torn apart. Most of the boys came from families of 5-11 siblings, often times one of the parents may have been injured or killed due to terrorism and had experienced extreme poverty. When I first met the boys, they were tiny, full of energy, spoke little English (their native language is Carsi), and had sores caused by Staphylococcal Infections. I was one of a team of four, directed by Rupa Didi. We were to wake the boys up, go to breakfast with them, go to school, teach at the School, return with them and put them to bed and apply their medications.. In short, be with them all the time and take care of them. This was a bit of a culture shock for an only female child, not accustomed to any responsibility on that level, and never having had brothers!

The rain is pouring outside, and it is 10:00 pm. We have to gather the children and apply their medication. "Boys! Get in line for meds!" No response. "Boys! Come now!" Slowly, they begin to assemble. We have to heat the water, and wash their legs with soap, then rinse and apply the medication. They would stand patiently, seeming to enjoy the attention. I would think about how far from home they were, without their parents. How lonely they might be. But they rarely showed it. All they seemed to think about was playing soccer and cricket. In the morning, after breakfast, we had to gather them to go to school. Sometimes they bus would have to be push started. This was India! Crowded buses, dirt roads and 33 boys yelling and singing. We entered the school and started with morning prayers and yoga. Then a karate class, followed by academics. I was to teach English. "Ok boys, let's review nouns," "Please sit down, ummm...sit down please....uh, let's start." My first lesson was CLASSROOM Management. Over the days, it became better.

It became known that one of our children had tuberculosis. He was immediately hospitalized. When asked if he would like to return home for treatment, he rreplied, "no, I would like to stay here with my friends." Ping Pau Lang was the smallest skinniest 9 year old I had seen, and also the bravest. After his hospitalization, he needed to take a daily hormone shot. He did it without complaint, and over the months he gained weight and his disease seemed to subside. The details of it were private, so I wasn't told much. What I saw was a child who wanted to play with the other children, who wanted to have fun and be apart of them. To watch him play soccer, joke around and even fight with the other boys became a wonder, a beautiful journey of courage and wonder.

The rain is pouring, creating a waterfall effect of the roof of their dormitory. The children run under it and begin to play. A small childs' pure glee at the sight of rain, looking up into the water, into the sky, as it cascades over him. Or Ting Shaing, stopping to show me the wonder of a fluffy cotton seed, as he blows on it, sending it sailing into the blue sky. "See Didi, see." Didi means sister.

Running through the ashram, suddenly stopping, the boys study the plants. They had planted chili peppers and would observe their growth, watering them with the utmost care.

The last thing I ever wanted to be was a teacher. My mom was a teacher, and now is a professor. My aunt was a teacher, my uncle was a teacher. I was a dancer. I had moved to New York City to be a dancer. After six year in New York, I returned home, married my husband, from South India, and went to India to work as a volunteer with the Art of Living Foundation in Banglore. But after six months with these children, I had come to understand the depth and value of giving an education to children. My memories touch me to the core. I am now back in Colorado with my family, but my heart is still in India. The boys are in good hands with the Director, Rupa Didi. They are learning English, Hindi and Kannada at an amazing speed, and excel at soccer and Cricket.
I will always love the words..."See Didi See" remembering a pair a big brown eyes looking up at the sky.

http://us.artofliving.org/index.html
For course information:
Restoring the Natural Rhythm
There is a rhythm in all parts of nature; the sun rises and sets with a particular rhythm, the tides rise and ebb with their own rhythm, our body wakes and sleeps with a certain rhythm. Similarly every emotion has a corresponding rhythm in the breath. In the Art of Living Course we use this link between our breath and our emotions to come closer to the rhythm of our natural Being.



Where:1001 E. 7th Ave @ Ogden
When:6:30-9:30pm and 9am-2pm
Event Dates:This event takes place on 4/11/2008.


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The Art of Living Foundation has posted 1 story and 0 comments since joining on 3/11/2008. The Art of Living Foundation's average story rating is 5.
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