Leaving

Walking in the oppressive heat of the Delhi summer evening, I savoured every smell, every gust of hot air, every pair of eyes that walked by as if I needed their existence as much as the air I breathe. I realised that India has become a part of every single cell of my being, and my heart is so firmly rooted here it is very difficult to say goodbye.

Leaving Purkal has been the most difficult thing I have ever done. My emotional strength has been tested to its limits and in the end I found it almost impossible to utter a word without tears coming to my eyes. The week has been full of farewell parties and "last times" and yet again I was overwhelmed by the affection everyone shown to me. A friend asked me the other day if I would miss the "caring" in India. At the time I wasn't sure what she meant but over the following week or so it became blindingly obvious.

On my recent trek in the Himalayas, I spent a couple of nights staying in wooden huts with some nomadic tribespeople called the Van Gujjars. They live in the lower regions around Dehradun and Uttar Pradesh in the winter months and migrate to the mountains in the summer. The Van Gujjars rely on their livestock, and are renowned for producing some of the best buffalo milk in India. We met a gujjar who had recently lost two buffaloes in a storm the previous night and the devastation that he felt was tangible.

Each time we arrived at one of their camps, my friends and I were offered a cup of steaming hot, sugary milk, so fresh and full of goodness that it felt like a complete meal. It rained quite consistently for the first couple of days of the four day trek, so we ended up spending much of our time with the gujjars. Wherever we went, despite the lack of any kind of luxury, they made every effort to make us comfortable, giving us blankets and sitting us as near to their fire as possible. When we asked if we could sleep in their huts, they gave us plenty of space and we all slept in a row, with families with 6 or 7 children and the cows sleeping opposite. Occasionally I was awoken by a buffalo poking his head through the open door or trying to eat our food supplies, but all in all I slept like a baby, despite the cold.

Shaadi

One of the major challenges of living in India for almost two years has been fielding the numerous questions about marriage. Being a bachelor in India is not easy and is certainly a rarity at my age (30). I am left in a strange social void as most men of my age are married, as are most of the females over 25. So I have found myself socialising mainly with people slightly older than me, who are married and have children. Although I have many dear friends in this situation, it means one is constantly aware of being single and you can't help feeling a bit left out. It has led me to think about marriage a great deal and I have often considered whether to look for a suitable match, Indian style, and settle down in what has become my second home.

I was recently asked if I wanted to meet a young lady who was a friend of a friend's daughter. I happily accepted, thinking it would be a interesting experience if nothing else. We met in a very informal environment, with my friend hosting us. This girl arrived, accompanied by a lady who looks after her and her sister while their parents are abroad and the four of us sat there and engaged in polite conversation for a while. It was a little unnerving and I felt like there was some kind of astute assessment going on. I even found myself asking "So...what does your father do?" and almost burst out laughing after having said it. Not much came of this particular occasion, but I started seriously considering the posibility of finding a wife in this fashion. If nothing else, it seemed attractive to let someone else do all of the hard work.

Several questions sprang to mind immediately;

1. Will an Indian girl and her family want an Englishman for a husband? When looking at the marital pages in the newspapers you can see that they are full of specifications of caste, jobs, qualifications, height, skin tone, family background, values. Indian families are very picky about who they marry their daughters to. Unfortunately, I haven't come across any adverts that specify a white-skinned, penniless man with dutch and irish blood from the Bricklayers caste.

2. Should I let someone else handle the selection process? Traditionally of course, the family play a major role in choosing a partner for their son or daughter. I have many willing friends and motherly types who I'm sure would relish the opportunity to choose me a good wife. More and more, I'm of the opinion that we are not particularly good judges of our own partners as our view is usually obscured by some irrational sensation or other, so it could be for the best to let someone objective do the tricky work.

3. Could I cope with the extended family? This weekend I went to visit the family I live with's family in Rishikesh. It is a relatively small family, but the scene was constantly full of children, elderly relatives, chatting wives and men discussing cricket. As an observer, I find it all intensely interesting and amusing, but maybe it would be different if I was more closely connected.

4. Would I get a dowry? Well, It's always worth asking!

I decided that since I'm only in India for a couple more weeks, why not do an experiment and see what happens if I post my profile on Shaadi.com, the famous marriage website that allows you to input in great detail your specifications, down to astrological charts to find your perfect partner. I was also planning to put an advertisement in the newspaper to see what responses I get. The wording was tough, as I've obviously got to market myself well but a few friends helped me come up with:

Wanted - Attractive, educated Indian girl with a mix of modern and traditional values. Must be open-minded and willing to travel....for a....
Tall, white, handsome (not my own words) British boy (30/6"0) MA student, working as a teacher in an NGO. Caste and religion not important.

I'll keep you posted...

Fire

Children here seem to have an incredible ability to adjust to new situations. Someone suddenly disappears from their life and they accept it with occasionally a few tears, then smile bravely and get on with life. They change schools, someone they know dies, they move in with their uncle or grandparents, they get sick, but still they continue to laugh and play, make new friends and teach us adults how to live. Life in India is fluid. Situations and events are completely beyond your control and leave little space for planning and predicting. Whereas in the west most pursue a secure and predictable life, where things can be neatly organised and tomorrow holds no surprises, in India the size of the population and nature of life leaves little space for this. So, you're left with little choice but to let go. Abandon your resistance and just enjoy the ride, and although it can be emotionally exhausting, frustrating and unnerving, you generally feel very much alive and have no trouble sleeping when night comes.

One afternoon last week, I was walking down to the basketball courts when I saw people running around with sticks and shouting about a fire. I ran to the side of our building and saw small fires burning on the slope next to our learning centre. Some of the students had climbed up there and were putting the fires out by hitting the flames with branches. Bobby, the accountant and one of the teachers were directing from below and co-ordinating the troops. The fire had spread from a field above us where they had been harvesting their wheat that day and just below where it was spreading was our wood store where the carpenters work. If one thing caught fire, we would be likely to lose thousands of rupees worth of wood. It has been reaching temperatures of 40 degrees recently and everything has become very dry too. After a lot of effort on the part of the kids and plenty of coughing and spluttering, they managed to get it under control.

We went down and started playing basketball and were soon joined by the most notorious class at PYDS, who had been in my bad books all week because of their unhelpful attitude and general misbehaving. I decided it would be good to have it out on the basketball court and we got stuck into a match. As I walked back up, sweating and exhausted I noticed some smoke coming from the wood store. I ran towards it and saw a burning cloth on top of a big pile of wood and quickly tried to pull it off and stamp it out. After this was under control I noticed that the fire was continuing to spread on the slope and was on its way towards us again. I shouted down to the naughty class and told them to come and help. Most of them came running with sticks and buckets and clambered up the slope to get to the fire. At one stage it was raging through a bush and was nearly twice the height of one of our students, but he managed to put it out single-handedly. Some were running around passing buckets while others were on the frontline beating it down with sticks, and within half an hour we had managed to reduce it to a pile of smoldering ashes.

Foreigner

It's taking me time to adjust being back in India after two weeks in Australia. I underestimated how different these two worlds were, and found myself having to adjust to being there and coming back quite significantly. The first thing that strikes you is the excess of choice and the amount that is consumed everywhere around you. The streets, cities, beaches and shops are all so meticulously clean and organised, which seems like a bizarre, make-believe reality after living in India. Of course another obvious (not necessarily bad) thing, is the amount of flesh on display as people walk around in next to nothing and you find yourself doing the same because it feels good. It follows that you end up paying more attention to how you look, what clothes you wear, what your hair looks like and I found myself looking in the mirror, checking myself out all the time. The relaxed attitude to drinking obviously stands out, and a beer in the afternoon becomes a habit quite comfortably, but the main thing that you notice is a huge difference of attitude to others and sense of self.

I arrived back in Delhi and again felt like a complete observer of this chaotic, dirty, confusing place. People were so pleased to see me and so open in their affection when I came on the overnight train back to Dehradun, but I found it all quite difficult to cope with. This brutally honest affection is something which demands something of you and it's something that I have only found in India. It demands you to return it and completely forgo your selfish nature and any egotistical tendencies you might have. I often find this unnerving, because my whole life has been spent preserving my personal identity and retaining that individual space regardless of other people. This morning I went for my morning walk up into the hills around where I live and sat down underneath a majestic tree as I climbed the slope back to Old Rajpur village. A little boy was walking up the hill in his school uniform, carrying his disproportionate bag of books. He must have been about six or seven years old and as he came towards me he began to stare and said "Hello". I had a little conversation with him and asked him whether he was going to school and he continued on up the hill. Every few feet he turned back to look at me, waved and said "Bye" and we continue this little game until he disappeared out of sight.

I stayed there smiling for a while, then made my way up the hill too. As I rounded the corner I saw the little boy standing frozen still on the path with two monkeys (that were both bigger than him) sitting directly in his way without showing any sign of moving. He saw me coming and looked relieved and as I walked towards him and the two butch-looking monkeys I expected them to run away. One of them disappeared into the undergrowth, but the other one stood his ground firmly bearing his teeth and looking quite scary. Despite my being a bit scared too I realised I was the adult and took the boys hand and marched him past the stubborn obstacle. He grabbed my hand tightly and we both sighed a sigh of relief as we made our way together to the street.

Directorial debut

In the past, I used to be constantly concerned with my body. There was always some ache or pain that was at the forefront of my mind, which meant that anything I had to do or accomplish took considerable effort and focus. For years I suffered with back pain, neck-ache, migraines, sinus trouble and I always felt I could have achieved so much more, if these things hadn't been in my way. Now I realise that these pains and aches were a product of my fear of achieving those things, and simply something I put in my own way to give myself an excuse. After some years of regular yoga practice, I am beginning to be less concerned with these physical ailments and if I was to draw a graph of my productivity and mental capacity over the past ten years it would show a sharp rise around the time I started focussing on improving my bodily health.

As my physical health grows, I find I am able to focus a little more on my mind and to ask myself important questions like, "what am I capable of?" and "how can I use my skills and knowledge to help those around me?" My yoga teacher often emphasises the intention behind your actions, and continues to ask us why we are practicing. Are we doing it to get a flat stomach or are we aiming to improve our minds? I read something recently which said our attitudes can be divided into two types; complaining or grateful. Our aim in life should be to move away from the complaining and towards gratitude.

I'm sure most people reading this will probably be thinking, "It's easy for him to say when he's living in the mountains in India, but most of us have to get on with the realities of the world." Of course, I accept my good fortune and recognise that I have always been a lucky boy.

I have spent the past few days making my directorial debut to give people a little taste of PYDS. You can have a look here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbQJ0TH5KU4

Cats & Dogs

This morning I was woken up at about 2am by loud barking. This is nothing too unusual, but usually it stops after a while. This barking went on and on and seemed to be closer than usual. When it had reached the point when I was fully awake and my curiosity overcame my tiredness, I got up and walked to my balcony to see what was going on. We have a dog called Raja, who is a huge, stinky beast that is usually found skulking around the garden or slumped in the sun somewhere. At first we had some "getting to know you" issues, but now we've become reluctant friends who can bear eachother's presence, but that's about as far as it goes. Manish warned me repeatedly when I first moved in that I should stay away from Raja, because he is dangerous and doesn't like strangers. Seemed like good advice to me.

As I looked over my balcony I was wondering where the barking was coming from and why it was so loud. I soon discovered that this was due to the amplification of being in the bathroom (which is adjacent to the house). I stared at the open bathroom door for a while, listening for noises or human screams, but ould only hear Raja's barking and growling. I heard Manish's wife shouting at Raja from downstairs and I assumed he would shut up after a while. I turned around and went back to bed, burying my head under the covers.

It continued... As the only remaining man in the house (Manish is away in Rajasthan), I felt duty bound to go outside and see what was going on. I put my jacket on over my pyjamas and wandered outside to the bathroom. I crept slowly towards the door and called Raja's name with a tone of what I like to think was authority. The barking stopped for a second then continued. By now, the household was awake so I went inside to see what the theory was. Apparently a dog had got into the bathroom and was therefore in Raja's jurisdiction, and he wouldn't rest until the case was closed. Manish's mother and wife and I stood around and laughed for a bit. I said I thought it might have be a tiger or leopard, and then I went back to bed as it seemed that no action was to be taken (a welcome relief, as I didn't fancy wrestling with Raja or a rabid dog at that point in time). Soon after I had laid my head down, there was a pathetic wail and some scuttling around...then silence.

It turned out to be an ill-fated cat, who had sadly picked the wrong toilet to frequent. I don't know what the moral of the story is, but thought it was worth sharing...

Bus Them To Purkal

Over the last few months, I have been involved with one of the most interesting projects I have ever had the good fortune to be a part of. We are running a programme at PYDS called the Bus Them To Purkal project (BTTP for short) which aims to take 9-11 year old girls* from a background where little or no education has been available and prepare them for life and entrance into our main educational scholarship programme. The girls are all from families with an average income of about £30 a month and live in simple mudhuts in the rural, mountain villages around Purkal. They mostly use firewood to cook with and often have no toilet or running water facility.

We began the process by employing a local man (the father of one of our present students) to do a survey of the villages to find us 50 or 60 suitable candidates who met the poverty and geographical criteria. Once this had been done, I joined this man and checked all of the homes myself with the help of some of our teachers to verify the local man's work. It is easy for him to be influenced by friends and the local community, many of whom want a free education for their child despite having enough money to afford it themselves. We saw several such cases and eliminated families who were obviously quite comfortable.

Once we had narrowed the survey down to about 50 girls, we began the assessment process. Each Sunday, we called 15 children to our learning centre and 3 teachers including myself spent a day observing and assessing their aptitude for learning. The assessment was broken up into about 8 tests aimed at monitoring the child's attention span, visual and aural memory, interest, perseverance, numerical skills, observational skills, patience, how they work in groups and pairs and their general behaviour. This was a very challenging and difficult process, which took a lot of thought and continuous re-evaluation. We split each group of 15 into three groups of 5 and were often having to observe all 5 children simultaneously. After each session, the three of us sat together and analysed each child's performance and family situation carefully, before making a selection of definite candidates and maybe cases which we would reassess at the end of the assessment process.

Many difficulties and ethical questions were raised along the way, and I often asked myself whether what we were doing was fair and inclusive. Local, village politics entered into the equation as people began to feel competitive about the assessments and some parents even started coming to my home to try to influence me. Some also sent their children with pen and notebook in hand to perform some kind of impromptu written test!

We have just made the final decision about the 23 children we have decided to admit. They are all from deserving backgrounds and all have a spark that will hopefully see them through the challenging future which awaits them. Essentially, we are striving to nurture children who have the potential to become intelligent, responsible and sensitive citizens of the world, not just provide a substandard education to poor children.

The group will be joining us on Monday along with their parents and will be getting measured for uniforms and inducted into the programme. It is probably one of the biggest responsibilities that I have had, and I hope that I have made the right decisions.

Some picture of the assessments are on my picassa page at
http://picasaweb.google.co.in/guybnauti/GuylliversTravels?authkey=Skk_sW4U-ss#


* The girl child is traditionally sidelined in Indian society and is often not given any education beyond the very poor standard, government primary education. Our society feels that by targeting the female child there is a much greater effect on the family and society as a whole. This is the reason that this particular programme is aimed at girls rather than boys.