Namaste to the Motherland

With exactly two days left to go of our five -month stay in Varanasi I find myself constantly cataloging my favorite memories, nostalgically swerving back through them, attempting to grapple with the major transition I am about to make. The following are some of the moments I have been re living:

Back in March I ventured solo off to an evening of classical Indian music. A regular, government sponsored concert series, run over a five- day period where musicians play into the early hours of the morning. I remember sitting cross -legged on the ground listening to the sitar and tabla echo out through the monkey temple and up through the roofless stage into the night sky. Sitting alone, eyes closed, my reality collapsed as the music floated my thoughts into a different realm. I could have been anywhere, let alone in a Hindu temple, half way across the world.

Watching the first hint of monsoons back in May. Early one morning during yoga class, myself and the other students ran with our yoga blankets off the temple to take shelter below in the home of our yoga guru ji. Sipping chi as I looked out on the first of the season’s sheet of water showering the streets. It will continue to amaze me the naturalness and innate ability to treat strangers and guests as warmly as family members.

The maturation of our guesthouse into a home; it did not happen over night but it is no surprise that my enjoyment of this internship increased exponentially the closer my relationships became with the family members I live and work with. Mera ji and Mamta ji fulfilled pseudo mother / sister roles while our brother/ personal chef, Lalu, spoiled us daily with his delicious, home cooked food. We became a family and when it rained whoever was around home ran out and pulled everyone’s clothes in off the line.

I can safely say that food was an integral part of our internship. Gulping down servings of oiling okra subji and tasty aloo gobi, guiltily swallowing as I calculate just how vigorous my workout routine will have to be back in Canada if I indulge in a third / fourth serving, I lose count. Apple pie, cakes, amazing reincarnations of our western favorites, to say we have been spoiled, treated as princesses, waited on hand and foot is not an exaggeration.

The Tulsi Kunj community library fashion police – aka library assistant Sarika ji and her less vocal comrade Chandana ji, swelling my head with praises and compliments for my newest salwar kaeej. Sarika, one day, almost losing her balance as I entered the library in a traditional chudar suit, so overwhelmed with my transformation from a Canadian into “pure Indian”. If I am honest with myself my amassing collection of Indian suits might have been encouraged by her constant praise and approval.

The continual, genuine friendship and pride I feel as a teacher for my tutoring students. The generosity our students have shown us as they freely and regularly invited us into their homes for elaborate meals and hilarious conversations. Without a doubt the last hour each day I spent tutoring was the most enjoyable and rewarding part of my internship.

Thank you World Literacy Canada, thank you to the Yadav family and thank you India…. until we meet again.