India and Me

Picture this. When I think of India and my personal experience with this country, I like to imagine it as a person. All the smells, colours, sights, people, weather, temperature, food, illness, poverty & wealth, buildings, trains, rickshaws, street merchants, children, temples, churches, dancing, singing and festivals, to name a few, formed, moulded and rounded up as one person. Maybe a lady wearing a sari, or a man in traditional dress, or a faceless figure painted orange, white and green. But for now, however you wish to picture it, imagine India as a person.

When I first arrived in India, this person punched me straight in the face with culture shock. When I was home sick, physically sick and plain sad it held me down and punched me a few more times. It made me resent India and more than anything, I wanted to go home. But India as this person pinned me down and forced me to stay, and even when I wriggled and gave up a fight, it wouldn't let me leave.

After a month I found the strength to fight off India and stand on my own two feet again. Now India and I were on equal terms. I was able to face them, look them in the eye and tell them I wasn't scared of them anymore. And India, reluctantly, accepted this. They took a step back and let me discover things for my self, work out how they work, and experience the country from a new perspective. I was starting to feel comfortable, settled and, dare I say it, happy with my new home. India accepted this, and offered me their hand as an official welcome.

By Christmas, India and I were friends. It wrapped me up in a warm, familiar embrace and I no longer resented this person. It fed me new and delicious food, held my hand and guided me through places when I was anxious or unsure, pushed me playfully when I got stroppy or angry, and danced alongside me through the many, many adventures and memories I've experienced here. It sat back and watched me grow as I learned how to deal with this country, deal with the challenge of teaching blind children with no training, and offered gentle advice when I was at a loss. It introduced me to new people, places, foods, ways of life and habits I never thought I would pick up.

From then on, India and I were on the same page. Sometimes we argued, sometimes we laughed, and sometimes we cried together at the pure sadness and injustice you can witness in this place. Sometimes I questioned it, asking why on earth it would put me through some of the things I've experienced here. And in response it would laugh, tell me not to be such a drama queen and to just get on with it.

I don't see myself as a particular strong or brave person, but the one thing I do pride myself on is that when I've started something, I don't give up on it until it's finished. Even if it's not done to the best of my ability I will always feel the need to finish what I started. And thats what happened with India. No matter how desperately homesick, lonely or sad India ever made me at random points of the year, I never concidered giving up and going home to the UK. Quitting was never an option - I worked too hard and annoyed my friends and family endlessly to get here. I would patiently fight my way through all the challenges and finish what I started, and return home the UK in July with the rest of my volunteers, completing, as it were, a year in India. 

And I did

I want to avoid all the cliches about how my year with Project Trust has changed me as a person, but it's impossible not to acknowledge it. India forced me to grow up, whether I was ready for it or not. The day my family dropped me off for the airport was the day I left home and left my old life behind and I didn't even realise it. I didn't realise what a huge, enourmes change and impact this year would have on me. Before I came here I was in my own bubble, a happy, safe and cosy bubble. Nothing was too difficult, everything was easy. I lived a simple life, I thought the world was simple and I thought people who over complicated their lives could have it easy too. But it's not like that at all. India burst my comfort bubble and I will be eternally greatful that it did. When you see first hand the things that I've witnessed and experienced this year it's impossible not to realise that the world is complicated, cruel and unfair. I've acknowledged this, I've tried my best to help, but the world cannot be fixed. The world is a phenomenal, stunning and vastly complex place. It is terrifying, dangerous, exciting, and corrupt, and I'm still, as a single person amongst over seven billion, trying to work out how I can it can be both beautiful and awful at the same time.

Sometimes I'm sure I'm glowing with the sheer joy this country has bought me. There were times when I couldn't comprehend my content, there were times when I didn't know happiness like this could exist. The energy this country can bring you makes you feel as if you're on top of the world. I couldn't even take a minute to sit back and take it all in, because everything happened so fast, a whirlwind or colours and spices and music and religion swooping me up and throwing me through life. 

In 2000, India's 1 billionth citizen was born. When I used to look at India on the map I simply thought it was impossible that over 1 billion, a seventh of the world's population, could live here, in a country with a relatively small land size compared to that of, say, Russia. But it's possible, and you feel it here. You feel it when you're wedged in the crowds of the local markets, the temples where thousands of prayers are taking place, the cinemas roaring with laughter, the queues at the Taj Mahal early in the morning. In India you are never alone, you always feel the warmth of the diverse 1.252 billion people. 

I look at the person I was when I arrived here and the person I am now when I'm leaving and I can feel myself glowing with happiness. I didn't known that I needed changing as a person before I came here but I am so glad I have. I will always be grateful to myself for making the decision to come to India, Project Trust for choosing me and India for changing me.

When I look back on my year it will be the moments that I'll remember. Moments that were just for India and me, moments that didn't belong to social media or my life back at home. Moments like hanging out the back of a rickshaw at sunset, watching the sun chase us all the way home and waving at anyone and everyone who passed us by. Moments like when one of you're students finally gets what you've been teaching them right and can repeat it back to you and you want to burst with pride. Moments of tickle fights, secrets and laughter until 2am, rice sprinkled on your head at a festival and tender smiles between you and the beggar you just gave money to.

Moments, all leading up to this one.

I wish to thank every single person who sponsored me for allowing me to go on this journey. Working at Devnar School for the Blind has made me see the world and all that's in it in a completely different light. I have learnt so much from my students, the staff, the school - not only how to work and interact with blind people, but a lot about myself too. As I prepare to embark on my journey back to the UK and the next chapter in my life, I will always remember what India has taught me, and I will carry it with me for life. 

India - The Last Week - An Open Letter to my Partner

Dear Elena, dear Smidge,

All through my year of fundraising, to get where we are today, I had one thing constantly on my mind: who my partner was going to be. Some nights I lay awake sick with worry that they would hate me, that we wouldn't get along, or have zero common ground.

Our year in India is nearly coming to an end, and I wanted to take this opportunity to be honest about living with someone in such close proximity, seeing each other everyday and reflect upon the incredible, emotional, wonderful, crazy year we've had together.

Where do I begin? We arrived in this country pretty much as strangers and I am estatic that I am leaving it with a friend for life. I never knew at the start of the year that we were going to be such a solid partnership - let's be honest, it wasn't looking likely!

Living with someone in such a small space is not easy. We worked out that in this year we haven't spent longer than six hours apart. We've been in this country for 318 days in total - that's 7632 hours that we've pretty much only spent in each other's company. And of course, on the bad days, when we just can't face each other, we can choose to maybe spend time apart in different classrooms, go up to the shops for some space, or hide in the office, but at the end of the day, Devnar is a small school, and at the end of the day we have no choice but to return to the small room we share and face each other. Of course this is going to lead to problems sometimes - at the best of times you completely infuriate me, you're a massive pain in the arse and I know you feel the exact same way about me. Your lack of enthusiasm for things can drive me crazy, you like to walk your dirty feet over the freshly cleaned floor I spent hours mopping, you correct me constantly, and above all, you're superior, aren't you? Equally I am happy to admit I'm no delight to live with either, so with that in mind I'm so proud to write that we lived together for a year and only had ONE argument. ONE! As this is an honest open letter, I'll admit that for most part of the year I've felt like I've lived in your shadow. From the start you were better at India than me - you were barely homesick, you took to the food, the children and the teaching straight away, and it felt like I was constantly trying to catch up with you. People would always ask what we were doing after India, and you were able to proudly stand there and tell people you were going to Durham University to study anthropology (and I am still SO proud of you! Remember I screamed all the way down Mayur Marg when you got the news on Christmas Eve?), whereas they were met with a look of lost confusion when they turned to ask me. I've now come to realise that we both have strengths and charactertics where the other has flaws and I'm still, even towards the end, trying to work on not comparing myself to you so much. 

Whenever we heard stories of partnerships that weren't working out, I was always secretly pleased at the back of my mind that we were such a good partnership. Because we are Smidge, we really are. Despite my stroppy moods, you driving me mad with your superiority and our constant squabbles over petty things like who takes the rubbish out and the mess in the room (ahem, you), we just work. You couldn't find two people more different than you and I, and in all honesty I was worried about this when we met on training, but it's turned out to be the best thing for our partnership. We learn new things from each other everyday, whether you're attempting to educate me on anthropology or I'm letting you in on Fleetwood Mac's greatest hits. And when we're not learning from each other, we find to our delight that we have a common in something, something for us to bond over. Putting two completely polar personalities together was a smart move from Project Trust, because you bring out to best in me and keep me grounded. Thanks to you I gained a new perspective on all my flaws and bad qualities, and I'll always be greatful to you for that Smidge. You made me see the world in a different way and got my priorities straight. You're right - I don't need to take a hair dryer when we go travelling.

So, to commemorate our year coming to an end, here are the 15 things, amongst many, that I like about you:

1.) I like that you always check the room for rats and chase them out if there are any, no matter how tired or grumpy you are.

2.) I like that you walked me back the room in the dark that one time you made me watch the Diatlov Past trailer in the computer lab and I cried.

3.) I like that you sometimes buy me my favourite mango juice as a treat for no reason. I extra like the fact that you always buy them in a carton, because I prefer them that way, and you always buy me two, because you know I like one for breakfast the next morning.

4.) I like that you always speak so enthusiastically about topics you're passionate about to an extent that your whole face completely glows with happiness while discussing the origin of Danish furniture (yes, really).

5.) I like the fact that you can be the bluntest, sassiest and sometimes rudest person I've ever known when it comes to people trying to cheat us/inappropriately touch us/kidnap us.

6.) I like that you let me be me, no matter how dramatic, loud, over the top, stroppy, stupid or unrealistic I'm being. You sit back and let me do my thing and I love you for that.

7.) I like that we have become so comfortable around each other that we can openly discuss eachothers bowel movements/vomit consistency/periods/any other gross medical issue. This also applies for boys, sex, opinions on *big* issues and anything else most people wouldn't really talk about. Shocking to some readers, yes, but when you live together in India for a year, with only one toilet between the two of you, you become pretty blazé about this stuff. 

8.) I like that one time we were on an AC bus with no blankets, and I gave you my hoodie because you were cold, and in a moment of completely out of character and random madness, you threw your arms around me and gave me a cuddle to keep me warm too.

9.) I like that we've lived together for so long that we know each other inside out. I know you get cold easily on sleeper trains, you know the walk I have when I'm really excited about something, I know the face you make when you're about to go downstairs, you know to take a million photos of me and for which angle so I'll have the perfect one for instagram. Sometimes you'll say something about me and it'll scare me, because you do often know me better than I know myself. 

10.) I like that you're always game for a selfie. I appreciate that.

11.) I like that when you wake me up in the middle of the night because you turned the light on and I start mildly panicking because I forgot to put my facemask on that you come over and do it for me and tuck me in.

12.) I like that when you annoy me I think of the time you were running through KBR park in bright flowery trousers and trainers, all stroppy because we had made you go running, and I smile, because you looked so stupid. 

13.) I like that you go along with the fake names and occupation I tell people when I can't be bothered to disclose real information. Even that time I said you were a neurosurgeon called Babs.

14.) I like that we can recall the names of each other's family and friends and all their trates and facts without even having met them yet.

15.) I like that you know every single thing about me, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and you still love me and respect me for who I am.

We haven't got much time left - in exactly a week's time we will go our seperate ways and not see each other for a whole six weeks before we're reunited on training. And what's six weeks compared to spending a whole year together, day in and day out? I know you'll probably breath a sigh of relief as soon as you go your own way at Heathrow Airport, but for me, it's going to be strange not having you by my side 24/7 and being able to tell you every single thing that's happened in the day.

I guess that's what WhatsApp's for, right?

Thank you for everything this year, Smidge. The memories we've made together I'll treasure forever, from kyaking drunk down the Kerelan backwaters at 6am, to getting caught dancing on top floor at midnight, to jumping off moving trains when we missed our stops, singing in rickshaws, laughing until we cry and crying until we laugh again. You've been my rock and I know I would've struggled so much more in India without you to cheer me up when times got tough. You're more than a best friend or a sister to me - you're my Project Trust partner, a bloody good one, and everyone who has done Project Trust will know that that bond is like no other.

Here's to many, many more adventures to come.

मैं आप से प्यार करता / करती हूँ

Mai aap se pyaar karathee hoom,

Your Lots gal x