3.28.2013

Last night I had the most vivid dream. I was walking from my home through the streets and down through the slum. There were no children on the streets working, they were not looking for recycling, they were not begging from passersby. None of my babies were wandering aimlessly along the tracks. I looked and looked and couldn't find a single child. In the dream I felt everything, the heat of the day, the rush of the train as it passed me, the momentary panic in my chest as I searched for them; it was all so real. I ran into some of the parents in the slum and they explained that there were no children out because they were all in school.

I woke up, my eyes wet with tears, because I believe this dream, this dream will come true.


3.13.2013

Can you feel the beat?

As I sat on my balcony this morning, like I do so many mornings, I couldn't help the wave of awe that came over me. I realized that everything I love about living here could have been summed up in that morning view. Life is just out there, coursing through the streets like blood through the veins of this great subcontinent. It is not tucked away and quietly hidden behind walls or inside a car going past.

It is in the woman in her saree walking by with apparent ease, a basket of rubble balancing on her head. It's the bicycle rickshaw driver so skinny but full of lean muscle struggling to go uphill but breezing by on the way down. It's the men laboring to construct the building across the way, shielding their eyes from the sparks of the welder with a mere piece of paper. It is in the child waiting patiently for their school bus. The milk man calling out for customers as he walks in a rhythmic speed under the weight of his load. It's the tiny little lady selling paan and supari out of her equally tiny wooden shop on the street side. It is the auto rickshaw, the motorcycle, the scooter, the car. It is in the bicycle with an attached wagon, over filled with scraps of wood. It is the dogs and cats and chickens and cows. It is the birds and the bats and the bees (which all have made their way into my home this week.)

It is everything and it is pulsing right outside my door. Yes, life is lived with struggle but it still manages to remain simple. It is just out there, beyond the bounds of my home with nothing and nowhere to hide leaving me no choice but to get up and join it!