Hard Lessons from Calcutta
By Sofia Jasani
This article was printed in Abroad View magazine fall 2005
Sitting on the rooftop of Shishu Bhavan, Mother Teresa’s home for orphaned children in Calcutta, I wasn’t aware of the usual break-time sights and sounds. The constant bustle of the city below didn’t reach my ears, my lungs were impervious to the mid-morning smog, and I didn’t even feel the chai’s heat burning me through the tin cup I clutched in my hands. Instead I was thinking about Rajesh, who had died the day before. His tiny little body, with its thin, twisted limbs and angelic face, gave out in the hospital during his fourth visit there in as many months.
I perched rather precariously on a far corner of the roof, avoiding the dripping laundry hanging above my head. Two other long-term volunteers, both strong and quiet Italian women who had grown close to Rajesh and worked closely with him in his last months, were also sitting off by themselves—reflecting, I can only assume, on life and loss, and regaining their strength to return to the surviving children once our break was over.
I was listening to a conversation between two teenaged volunteers who had arrived in India earlier that week. They talked about how at home, “they just don’t know what its like here, man.”
I didn’t want to hear a single word of it; I didn’t want to hear them objectively discuss the impossibility of teaching these children because they don’t speak English. I wanted to ask them if they had noticed that a little boy had died, that now his little brother is all alone in the world, and he isn’t even aware of his loss.
Unlike the other children at Mother Teresa’s Home for the Destitute and Dying, most of whom are only vaguely conscious of life around them, Rajesh was beautiful and serene, aware of this world as only someone close to the next one can be. He’d had a bad case of turbeculosis, and what I assumed to be either polio or cerebral palsy, because his limbs were so twisted, emaciated, and stiff. He had grown worse, eating less and less, with a fever that increased impossibly each day. His breathing had always been labored and noisy, but during the last few days each quick breath came with a struggle, and I could see his great effort to get air in and out of his twitching nostrils. The last morning I spent with him, I wasn’t thinking deep thoughts or pondering the purpose and benefits of service; I was just using my humanness to connect with him and comfort him. I didn’t have the training or skills to save his life; I didn’t have the words to speak his language; I didn’t have the money to take him away from this place; all I had was a lap to hold him in.
The fissure is tangible between the new, smiling volunteers who come and go and wax philosophical and speak in big important voices, and people like the two Italian women and me. We have progressed through the awe of this city with its poverty, bustling masses, sick children, and proselytizing missionaries, and have gone through several stages of questioning and awareness. We have stopped complaining about the way things are, or feeling self righteous about “giving our time.”
Alone with my thoughts at night, questions about the value of my service haunt me: If it makes me feel good, is it still a sacrifice? Have I grown and learned and loved and therefore received more from these children than I have given them? This debilitating thinking is only temporary; although doubts and anxiety can never leave your mind fully, the seasoned volunteer knows how to leave both reason and emotion behind to pursue action. Instead of just questioning how to change things, we simply come every day and act.
What divides those green volunteers from their seasoned counterparts is not superiority of character, morality, or age—it is just time and experience. We all start out fumbling, but because we make a commitment to stay for a substantial amount of time and our experience abroad revolves around our service, we learn the necessity of following our instincts, getting to know the children as individuals, and remembering that all of the wonderful and productive things we are doing to challenge the kids and the system are nothing but a drop in the bucket. But this is okay, because every moment with these kids—all of the times both frustrating and miraculous—is fulfilling and joy-inspiring. AV
Serving in India
Why Serve & Learn in India
India is not just a country; it is a sub-continent. The diversity of cultures, languages, religions, classes, and castes is immense. One of the most ancient of civilizations, today it struggles with all the issues and concerns of the contemporary world. Studying the evolution of India, as one empire succeeded another, and the blending or separation of cultural traditions makes a fascinating and instructive experience in human social and intellectual history. Students should be prepared for a very real, profound, challenging, and sometimes disturbing experience as they encounter the conditions under which many Indians live.
Program Design for The International Partnership for Service-Learning and Leadership semester-long India program in Calcutta
At the beginning of the session, students serve for three weeks at Mother Teresa’s Homes, providing care and support to destitute children, women and men, and the ill of Calcutta. At the same time, they study the cultures and issues of India under the guidance of the program director—a leading Indian scholar native to and educated in Calcutta—and visiting other cities and towns. Students then continue volunteer service of their choice for 10 weeks, while pursuing a study program through Loreto College.