Travelling without moving

It's getting up to about 43 celcius in Delhi and an air-conditioned room is about the only place to be. Thankfully we have friends who not only house and feed us, but go to every length to make our extended stay as enjoyable and interesting as possible. This morning we went for an early morning stroll in the local park in South Delhi, binoculars in hand, spotting birds before breakfast. It seems we have little option but to stay where we are at the moment, as all efforts to leave or find a way home are proving fruitless. It may be time for me to make my long-dreamed of journey across land from India to London, armed with nothing but the clothes on my back, a few spare pairs of pants and a sunhat.

My trip back to Purkal was a joyful and interesting experience. It was heartwarming to see the efforts everyone there are making to make sure the future generations of children and local people have greater opportunities and more chances to lead fulfilling lives than ever before. I was there to collect data for my research project, which is about parents' participation in their children's education. With the help of five young volunteers from PYDS I managed to carry out a fairly substantial number of questionnaires with parents from various different kinds of schools. I was overwhelmed by the enthusiasm most parents showed to be more involved in their children's school life. I was also struck by how passionate and intelligent many of the parents were, even when they themselves had been through very little formal education. So much of what children learn happens outside of the four walls of a classroom, and parents can sometimes be made to feel that teaching their children is a domain outside of their control. I believe it's vital for the community to be involved in how their young are being educated and taught, and for their own knowledge and culture to be incorporated in the learning that happens at school.

I spent as much time as possible with the children I came to love dearly whilst working in Purkal, although it never felt like enough. I would keep sneaking into their classrooms and poking my head around the door to spend more time relishing their beauty and enthusiasm. I went swimming one morning with my 9 year old friend Sona and couldn't believe how fast he was learning to swim, overcoming his fear of the water every minute. We spent time trying to catch fish in the river with a broken bottle, talking about the reflection of the water on the rocks and just basking in the sun eating biscuits. He has recently joined PYDS and I think it's given him a supportive environment in which to continue to grow and make the most of his curious mind.

I suppose I have found it difficult to adjust to being back in the UK over the past 9 months and I had created these two opposite worlds in my head. This trip has helped me to understand how insignificant time and distance really are when we're talking of human relationships. When I eventually get back home I'll be a little more thankful for my good fortune to be constantly learning and growing. Until then, I'm going to keep out of the heat, go easy on the samosas and share a couple of lines I can remember from what I read at a nursery school I visited this morning:

What is regret?
Realising that you spent your life thinking about the future.
What is sadness?
Longing for the past.