Nabo Jobin (I think this is the name of the home) and other thoughts

This was supposed to be posted yesterday, but the power went out right as I sat down to write. I figured it was a sign that I was supposed to go to bed. So this is an experience from Sunday. What follows is one experience I had today, Monday:

"What does it mean to be happy and honest at the same time?"

With arms wider open than most hugs I have received, ever, she ran from the open gates to me. It was as if she hadn't seen me in forever, she hadn't. So as she jumped into my arms screaming, "Uncle," I appropriately said, "I haven't seen you for so long, how are you?" I'm not really sure why I said this, but felt obligated to. I did not know her, she was a street child.

Our purpose at Nabo Jibon was to simply wash and play and feed the street kids of the surrounding slums. This is a Sunday activity which I thought I might experience as to take a break from my daily routine at Kalighat. The showers took less than 7 minutes, as the greatly anticipated futbol field preoccupied their minds. I forgot the joy of hope in the youth. Working with souls who seem elusive to lief have take a toll on my expectations for personal happiness. A toothless smile has been much of a consolation. A man who makes it to the squat toilet without shitting on me is another joy, but the real joys are very soft and are more subjective than objective. But what is almost entirely and genuinely objective are children's smiles, laughs, and innocence.

He stood on my shoulders. Taller than he had ever been before. A full three feet and nine or so inches tall with another 5 feet and 10 or so inches added as his base. He was tall. I was afraid he would fall off, but connected at the hands I held him as tight as I could. He stood peering down on everything. We danced to the Bengali music, he laughed, which made me giggle. His small hands made me feel smaller than ever, only because our friendship was trivial and inconsequential ;) and pointless, also reminding me of the prominent street child epidemic. I was briefly sad, but when his spit landed on me, I was immediately brought back to the Bengali music, I continued to dance. This made me happy.

Majority of the day I had a young friend on my shoulders, and another pegged to my chest. He was so colse to me that I would wipe my face sweat on his shirt, only fair considering I was their toy, I was their mountain.

If these moments are what it is like to be a mountain with happy climbers ascending, then what a joy to be a mountain. I will give more respect to them. I was more than jubilant to have happiness on my highest peak, oh what a joy to be a tall mountain, supporting curiosity and exhaultation.

But it was difficult. I leaned over to Katie at one point and asked, "Lord of the Flies?" Sadly, that is what it was, a complete free for all. We took a break to serve biscuits. Two lines were supposed to be formed. Logically the child at the front of the line would be served first the next, right? It took three times as long as it should have because the concept of a functioning line was pointless to the street kids. I mean, I guess a free for all in the streets is more logical than waiting behind someone else. It was quite the juxtaposition.

Biscuits were served and I again served as a climbing structure. The kids would run to me, grab my hands, launch their feet forward, climb up my legs, to my chest and flip themselves around. This was spectacular! Fun! Until...one of the kids who was obviously too large for climbing me, but who would not take no for an answer, found another, in climbing terms I believe it would be called a "foothold" and in average vernacular would be called my PRIVATE PARTS! I keeled over in agonizing pain. Over dramatically I fell to the dirt ground, groaning in pain (this was not over dramatic, I promise!) The kids loved this, laughed, poked me, and yelled, "Uncle, Uncle, Uncle!" I gathered myself and stood up. There was already a sorta-line formed for more body climbing. The fun just never ends in the hearts and minds of the children, so why should it in mine? So they kept climbing.

The interest shorty shifted to futbol. I wanted to be cool like my new friends so I took my sandals off and played in the dirt without my shoes! Spectacular fun! I wanted for my father see me, he would have been so proud! Since he was not there, I said to Traci, "Look, I'm not playing with shoes on!" "Great Joe!" (seemingly not to care) I realized that must have sounded quite adolescent, but hey, after all look who I was playing with. It must have quite a show watching me hobble on the playing field, "Ouch!" wincing "Ouch!" wincing "Ouch!" wincing "Ouch!" in pain. My feet like you and me are very well privileged.

There was more body-climbing and mountaineering but not before some got jealous and wanted to climb the mountain. There was just not enough room! So what did I do? Made more. Like Wilbur, I was radiant! I walked around with three and sometime four kids clinging to me. We looked like a rice crispy treat. but pegged together with sweat and love, not sweet.

Lunch had arrived. This was pure chaos. "Uncles" and "Aunties" were demanded for more rice and dahl. More "Panni, Panni, Panni!" Everyone felt entitled to their own, no please or thank you. Was I wrong to expect? Plates were left on the ground as the children ran back through the gate to their home, the streets. No thank-you's, no good-byes. It was weird, no I guess just different.

I had romantic ideas of the children not wanting to leave, of enormous hugs, as that commencement hug to finalize everything, but nothing. It was just different. Sure I could have been upset with the lack of discipline, or their lack of manners, or I could have been disconcerted with the entire situation. But what would be the point in that? That was "My head was speaking louder than my heart" ;)! My hear was glowing. I was not there was not to teach these kids, I was there to instill anything, or to make lifelong friends, I was there to make someone smile, laugh and laugh and smile myself. And that is what resulted. It's like a satisfying meal. You eat the flavors, enjoy, and share the joy. It ends eventually and will leave your body sooner or later (in my case, meals leave sooner ;) ). You can always revisit the meal in your imagination or even the restaurant and even have the same meal, but nothing about it will really be the same as the original. That is authentic joy, as this joy was. I can revisit it in my hear, but it will never be tangible as it was that day. (Yes I just compared my day to a meal at a restaurant!) I have learned from them, probably more than they will ever know, or care to know, but to an extent isn't that almost like most of our encounters with others?

As blasse and unforgiving as that may sound, as often self-serving individuals we can easily forget to care about our actions and words and how they genuinely effect people, or maybe it is just me.

I left satisfied. I left realizing a few things. One of them being: many of my experiences in Calcutta and interactions with people may mean nothing to them, but for me I will grow big and strong from what they have taught me. Maybe that is part of their "Personal Legend."

A man I met inspired me to challenge myself to do a simple yet difficult reflection before I fall asleep every night. "Where you present to everyone with whom you interacted today?" OR did your mind wander to "meditate" on something or someone else ;)? Why? Mother Teresa apparently made the person she was with "the most important person in the world." Why not? They should be, they are in your present, they will soon be your, and inevitable will help create your future. I believe that when someone speaks to me they deserve my full attention. I am working on this. I have not been good at this in the past, but I am young and full or revitalizing energy. Even the flight attendants on the plane, I know what tehy will say and cold probably do their whole routine for them, but they deserve their dignity, as I do mine and you do yours. So as a man challenged me: Were you present to all with whom you spoke with today? Even think of one interaction, and if you weren't why not?

I have realized this has strayed from the street child day, but I don't care, your paying attention, right!?!?!


And now for an experience from today:

I cut out a rotting tendon today! The nurse is not an octopus and has only two arms. When she was positioned how she was and could not move, she said "cut", in her Italian-English, so I cut.