Some (mostly cool) things I did in 2009

• Grew out of my straightened hair. That was cool. Got a super chic haircut that turned heads upon getting curly hair. :)
  
• Started eating beef again? I'm anemic and I have to start eating red meat in order to get more iron because my ferrous sulfate tablets threaten to make me hurl and I think pork is too chewy.
• Ate at Five Guys with a homeless guy who tried to give us a necklace in turn for a burger and then Jason felt bad for him and said he'd give him some fries to which he responded "Please, I've had so many fries!"
  
• Gone on a camping trip with my friends complete with swimming in a lake, not showering, kissing boys, making breakfast in the morning and singing in the car both ways.
• Visited Washington DC with my best friend and stayed at my fabulous teacher's house. Rode the subway every day and lived the good life for about a week.
  
• Had a summer of dreams: working at a great internship, hanging out with friends every day, watching television and actually getting life things accomplished (as well as the aforementioned two trips)
• Got a 5 on my Calc AP test and passed the UW Calc 221 placement test-- I'm not so great at tests, who would've thought?
• Survived my stupid dance class, getting into college and also the whole forgetting to send in my housing deposit thing.
  
• Opened up a checking account and credit card with a bank as an 18-year-old.
• Got good grades at college because of what I actually knew and learned and tried to do and not because I crammed for my finals or because I did lots of extra credit, but because I tried my best and wanted to learn what I was learning.
  
• Made (some) new friends. Kept the old! :) Built lasting friendships through experiences and had some of the best times of my life!
  
• Organized all this stuff only to have it fall apart again, of course.
  
• Realized that I might just really want to be fluent in French.
  
• Allowed myself to fall back in love with music and get really excited about it.
• Oh yeah, did I mention that I'm in a band full of sweet ass musicians? We are not named yet.
  
• Got a faux-new years kiss the hour before the new year from a very delicious hunk of man.
  
• Rang in the new year before everyone else while doing college applications in India
• Actually succeeded in making some great gifts for people and some awesome mix CDs too.
• Got an ass like Bascom. Well, kind of.
  
• Was industrious, was not shy and schmoozed up people.
  
• Was not afraid to ask for help, to speak my mind, and to flaunt my talent and was frequently rewarded for it.
  
• Received one of the "best" scores on a midterm and got part of it copied for the class to read.
  
• Got to do a duet with one of my best friends.
• Sang an arrangement of "Fidelity" in a Benefit Concert for glioblastoma, arranged by Jason Shao.
  
• Got into a really weird collegiate sleeping pattern, hung out late, party-hopped, and friend-juggled
• Was single for some of the time, but taken the rest of the time. Was single during prom, but still had the most perfect romantic evening.
• Went to state for forensics. Won lots of tournaments. Almost qualified for nationals in oratory.
  
• Won 2nd place in a sweet poetry contest and received an actual ESSAY that an ACTUAL poet wrote analyzing MY poems. Talk about the most flattering thing ever :)!
  
• I got my job at the Free Press which taught me a lot about how to write journalistically.
  
• Realized that only I can fill the hole in my life.
  
• Made friends with people I thought were too cool to hang out with me.
• Got Respect. I'm not really happy unless I'm gettin' respect. I felt like I showcased the good things about me a lot, and I think that means I've grown a lot as a person.
• Re-read some of the books I loved as a kid.
  
• Made a total fool of myself, but I think it made me a better person most of the time :)

DISCLAIMER: sorry if this is boring, and sorry if it seems conceited. but really, 2009 was a pretty great year for me in retrospect.

Chinese rap at 3:30 AM

I applied for a lab job today and I really want to get it because I will get to use fluorescent proteins and work with plants in a real scientific setting. I have been having a very can-do attitude because I have a pretty respectable GPA in college and I realized that I should probably not freak out as much as I do. I have a good head on my shoulders.

I also realized that people like me more than I think even though people are not creatures that communicate easily and they won't just say, "Aarushi I think you're amazing and funny." They will do things to express it like laugh at your jokes and smile at you when they see you and mention things they remember you saying at later dates. Also, it is really easy to get my boyfriend to watch a movie if I just turn it on for 4 minutes.

Also, Firefox underlines everything I type because I set the spell check to French so that I could write legit emails to my french teacher.

The only reason I started writing this blog post is because a Chinese rap song randomly came up in my iTunes and it got me really excited. I'm making a CD for Crystal and it will have songs with the word Crystal in them.

Life Lessons from the naughtiest Stroke

I love the music video "11th Dimension" off of Julian Casablancas' solo debut "Phrazes for the Young." This song/video seems to talk straight to a young me.

I think it is very reflective of real life thought processes, which is weird because it's so trippy. I really want to be able to make something artistic like this in my life.

I think he's singing about our reactions in life, and how we can choose the way we react more than we can have control over what happens. As he coos "forgive them, even if they are not sorry," I am reminded of all that I have not yet let go.

Yes, there are mean people and bad people in the world, but it is us who are hurt if we allow ourselves to give into those impulses and not forgive.

Sin is valuing desire over what you know is right.

Anger is weakness, Patience is Strength.

Every positive action has a reward.

I should've known

Things I wish I hadn't done:

1. Let my dorm room become messy as it has, just so I could put everything right again in 24 hours before I have to vacate the premises for a month.
2. Eaten summer sausage as a child.
3. Bought a Naked drink that was enriched with powdery protein supplement just because it would allow me to say that I "got Naked."
   
4. Said that one thing that was really awkward that caused someone else to feel awkward and made it so that no one knew what to say for like, 30 seconds.
5. Stayed up later than 1 tonight.
6. Let others pay for me a lot of different times when I really don't like having others pay for my things.
7. Been unmysterious to begin with. Mysterious people are super intriguing, but I am not one of them and I am therefore not that intriguing without the mystery element.
8. One time in 6th grade, I sang on the loud speaker as part of my campaign advertisement for getting onto student council and of course, no one appreciated the effort and it was one of the most embarrassing moments of my little life. But I don't really wish I hadn't done it. But there were other moments having to do with my being in middle school that I regret a lot.
9. Broken my N'sync + Britney Spears CD I got at McDonalds with "I thought she knew" on it, because that was my favorite song off of it.
   
10. Not stuck with piano. Not stuck with guitar. I wish I had been more serious about voice. I would have had more sticktoitiveness in the words of Becca.
11. Made a big deal out of anything ever.
    
12. Let "Wayside School Gets a Little Stranger" leave my sight.
13. Let myself be upset for many days at a time at the hands of a boy.
    

I think a lot about style

So I wandered into this article, recently posted on this Hipster blog I found on blogger's suggested sites that said that this girl was part of "the Emo Redux" in the evolution of Hipster.. This one particularly interested me, because I used to own that very Death Cab shirt when I was in 8th grade, and I thought I was sooo cool.

If it wasn't too short, I would probably still wear it and think I am so punk. Coupled with an un-matching turquoise sequin skirt that I still wear in and a pair of chucks that I threw out, after finding they were unsupportive of my flat feet and unbearable in rainy conditions, I was the coolest person in school, and no one knew it but me.


Also, I watched Gilmore Girls.

As I stare into the depths of the computer's face...

I get mad at people for not fulfilling me


and then I get mad at myself for not fulfilling myself.


Also, I hate the internet, when you're alone at night in the computer lab and your roommate is asleep and you haven't taken your weird narcotic cough medicine yet for fear you'll never wake up.

I don't mean to be grim. It's just that I feel as though when someone looks at me and the diminished thought processes I undergo having stared at a computer with no clear goal in sight for so many hours, I can only imagine that they see some kind of ugly gorilla who eats bananas off the ground and poops everywhere.

Perspective

I knew this guy who I thought had his life under control and that he didn't care what anyone else thought and that he could conquer the world with his art.

And then I got to know him

I found that he had things that continually bothered him just as I did,

he struggled to find meaning for his existence just as I do

I guess, life's not really as easy for any of us as it seems.

This is why I like to take store of the little things. I try to look at people, I try to smile when I am happy, so that someone else can share in my day. I worry about the moments when I am not the person I want to be and worry that the people I love the most get the brunt of my worrisome, panicked student-self.

I have always thought that if I could write a song and record it and have it bring others as much joy as I get when I listen to music, then I would be fulfilled at least for that moment.

But it's hard to see the effects of your own actions. Sometimes I read people's work, and I never tell them that they touched me, sometimes I see people's faces and wonder if they will ever know that I want to understand them, that I wonder what they're thinking.

I will have to learn to trust in my own influence.

Lists as a window into the soul

Having been touched by Becca's recent list related blog and to take a page from an older blog of mine ("Aarushi's Freaky Little Lists" which I deleted in a fit of embarrassment) as well as an attempt to write anything not too serious in subject matter, I've decided to post some lists.

People to Whom I say, "Really?"

1. Those who walk up Bascom Hill or any other hill smoking a cigarette.
2. People who pack up very very loudly five minutes before the end of lecture, ignoring the teacher who is raising his voice to be heard.
3. People who pay the extra 2 dollars to have their pizza carried up the stairs for them in campus housing.
4. People who spell people's names wrong, or pronounce them using letters not present in the spelling itself when reading it
5. The person who decided not to put flaming hot cheetos in the inventory for Rheta's. (see photo. Hot fries are not a suitable substitute.)
6. The person who put the "for sanitation napkins" waste basket right next to where the person sits down on the toilet so that it is dangerously close to touching the person's arm.
7. Whoever invented finals.
8. Low-rise jeans innovators and the people who name the styles(e.g. "the lowest rise")
9. Anyone who gives someone flack for breaking a "fashion rule" when they are obviously pulling it off.
10. Social conservatives who waste funds just to ruin someone else's life.

(Amendments to come at later dates)

Even better than watching Planet Earth,

is watching others watch planet earth, occasionally asking "Who's Winning?" and getting answers such as "The Seal, the Echonodermata, the Great White Shark."

I am attempting to study.

Since then it's been a book you read in reverse

I am sitting in my room in relative nudity underneath the blanket of a warm robe postponing the life I will have tomorrow.

Surreally, we had our first snow day.
Also, surreally, I spent the night in Becca's room with Jason and Becca watching Ugly Betty as part as some sort of fake apocalyptic daydream. It was like a dream as everyone ran down the halls of her beautiful old dormitory celebrating the wonder that is nature given snow.

I thought about college and how it is kind of like the brochures that they give you except that you're not skiing or even studying outside half the time. It has been my goal to live in one of those brochures.

I have come to the realization that I like living a quiet life, that maybe I will never be famous, and maybe I never want to be.
This is the antithesis of what I used to think when I was younger. I wanted to be a star. I recorded an album of myself singing songs (that I wrote, a cappella) and distributed it to my peers. I wrote a newspaper and distributed that too (I got in trouble for being too honest-- it was justified). Maybe I made up this realization about the quiet life. Maybe that was complete and utter denial.

Today my father saved us from the winter by driving to Adams and helping us excavate Becca's car as a mini-avalanche had decided to make it their abode. He took Jason and me to Swagat. He told Jason the story of me singing the national anthem at India Day in library mall when I was 9 and how I made some lady cry because she was moved by my voice. I think I stopped thinking I had that effect on people when I stopped being able to see it, or when the people I was trying to be that to obviously didn't have a stomach for such things.

I wonder why I never write about anything light-hearted. I wonder why I consider things so thoroughly and forever, when I ought to consider each instant individually. This is why I like moments. I like having an ephemeral moment to myself rather than the grueling hours that prepare me for the future that I constantly worry for.

I think I built up these walls in response to how I was as a child, I was radical and inquisitive, and excited about life, and I believed in chemistry and love. No one liked that. I think I only want to be back to who I was then, minus the bad judgment.

Except it's kind of weird, that the Shins always applies no matter what situation I'm in.

One day, I'll make a non-contemplative post.

"Next semester, I will"

I always say that next semester I will do this, and next semester I will do that.
Today is set in stone and I will not be able to change what has become.

Well that's not true.
Today I will be a better person, today I will do my work, today I will update my blog which truth be told, no one knows about but me.

I'm not going to do things with the help of my peers or whatever. I'm going to do things on my own by myself.

Anne of Green Gables said (in the movie, not the book); It's not what the world holds for you, it's what you bring to it.

Well, let me tell you, I'm gonna bring it.

But speaking of next semester and the remainder of this semester.

I'm going to get things done. I'm going to make good on my goal to make noise in the Mills Music Library.

Here is some more information on the Mills Music Library:

Located in the B162 Memorial Library, the Mills Music Library is tucked away from our general field of vision. We walk past it every day and do not know that, in the ground below us, there is a little world of repertoire displaced from its original settings. You can open up a record and be transported to 18th century Austrian countryside or a luau in 1879.
I first went there with a friend for an AP World History project. For two days, we frantically scoured shelves for Eastern European music to illegally compile a tape of while dodging the suspicious looks of librarians, only to find that we had burned CDs full of computer shortcuts instead of songs. Needless to say, I had less than jovial feelings toward the library. But it's always bugged me that I wouldn't like something with the words "music" and "library" in its title. So I decided to go back again to give it a chance.

Upon walking in, I was met again with the deafening silence that accompanies the inner layers of Memorial Library. My friend and I were greeted by a man with a debonair Buddy Holly look, who asked us if we had any questions at all. He was a little surprised when I took up his offer.
His name was Tom Caw, and he was what people would call "adorkable." He deadpanned interesting facts. For example, the Memorial Library is underground for the simple reason that the collection is too massive to be supported by any above ground floor. Its contents have outgrown first the Music Hall, and then the Humanities building. We walked around the Hawaiian music exhibit, which from far away seemed rather simple. As we stepped closer, we were faced with a set of shiny beautiful ukulele derivatives, each from a different style and juxtaposed with sheet music and records of the era. A testament to the care taken by library coordinators, the accompanying web site has a host of audio clips and videos of each instrument in the set.
Tom admitted that he was unnerved by the lack of music in the Music Library. "I think someone actually shushed me once." Occupants of a nearby room even complained that the piano used in the lounge by a composition class nearby created a disturbance. The last library he worked at had been a hub of entertainment, sometimes hosting live music. He said that he wishes that people knew that the Music Library was not intended to be a silent place. So I quickly volunteered to return with friends and make as much noise as would be tolerated by the silence lovers upstairs. I've since made it my life goal to bring sound to the Music Library.

Silhouettes when our bodies finally go

I will spend less time shopping for shirts
and more time wearing them in

i want

not be a people person.
i want to sit alone in my room and be myself and create my own ideas from scratch

i want to begin my own world in my own image
i don't want to be your god. i want to be my own god.

i want to change myself without any interference on anyone else's part
i want to be the change i wish to see in myself

and that's my emo thought for the day

In Defense of Me

Note: This reflection refers to Michael Pollan's book, "In Defense of Food," his lecture at UW-Madison as part of a campus wide program to called "Go Big Read."

I have to admit that I was a little afraid of reading Michael Pollan's book. First of all, I hate reading about food, because it makes me hungry or ill, depending on what state my stomach is in. As a college student, it makes me guilty, because I allow Rheta's to choose what is in my food, providing me only with an ingredient list and calorie count, as opposed to any kind of real notion as to where the food comes from. This is not different from the way I ate at home: I blindly ate what my mom made me because she was a doctor and she knew what was best for me. And apart from this whole inner food battle I've been fighting, I'm also cautious of journalists who marshal facts to say what they need them to say, and apply their own analysis that could be considerably unsound. Needless to say, I was feeling a little defensive about reading In Defense of Food.

I continued to be defensive; I read the book (grudgingly) because I got the book for free—how cool is that?—and because I wanted to have knowledge about the book before the lecture. In spite of the multiple grains of salt that I took while reading the book, I actually found myself enjoying the book and more or less agreeing with Pollan's ideas in his lecture. It startled me that the government could respond to lobbying from companies and fundamentally change the way our food is labeled and thus consumed. It alarmed me that the 100 calorie packs that I thought were a godsend, probably prompted me to eat more instead of less.

During the lecture, I found myself warming up to Pollan's way of addressing the matter. Bill Cronon was right; Michael Pollan was actually funny. I'm not sure what I was expecting; I'm actually really bad at foreseeing what long-coming events are like. I picture them in a different room, with different-looking people, and not in terms of ideas and reality.

Some moments were funny: Michael Pollan addressed the bitter irony of how low-fat food made America fat. Some moments were bursting with relativity: haven't we all scape-goated one food and eaten too much of everything else? Some moments were tender: Pollan felt the need to address our hearts, not just our bodies and our mouths, when he said that we should keep food in the community.

I liked that he spoke to us as Wisconsinites, and not as people of the world or of a broad American background. People surrounded me, filling half the Kohl Center. Maybe it's just me, but watching lectures, and seeing other people watch lectures touches my heart. I feel that for the moment that we are together watching someone else speak, we are one and united. I know that everyone in the room was engaged by what he had to say, and in this way, we all agreed.

As to the choice of book, I feel that this book was chosen because of the universality of the topic. Food is important to everyone; not only the young, not only the old, not just people with certain political affiliations, people who are Chinese, people of any religion and any class. Pollan's feelings about how food should be eaten dictate common sense reasoning about foods, nothing more or nothing less, mixed in with some commentary. In that way, I feel that it's a good idea to follow his food advice. However, whether or not you agree with Pollan's ideals, it is much more difficult to implement such a change, without taking careful steps. This is no reason to stop trying.

Me? Maybe I need to take more personal responsibility for my food intake: I am choosing to make a greater effort toward making my own food, and knowing where the food I eat comes from. This might be a little bit because I'm running out of money in my food account. But it is important to note that I am not making this change because of Michael Pollan, but because I feel I need to make it. (I'm pretty sure dorm food gives you acne and makes you eat more.) Nevertheless, Michael Pollan may have offended me into actually doing something about these worries.

In the interest of keeping my private life private,

I haven't been posting lately. It's kind of depressing because this is my so-called creative blog, as opposed to the others I have that merely express my views and frustrations on a deeply personal level.
So I thought I'd post some of my reflective writing assignments for my seminar class, which are hopefully interesting and better suited for a broader audience.

Updates: I am in college. Yes, this is bizarre since I've had my blog since I was in 7th grade. How far we've actually not come.

Currently I'm listening to Modest Mouse on shuffle, because I haven't been enough exposed to their last release and I'm waiting for my parents to pick me up. My brother has swine flu so we'll all have to wear face masks in the house.

There is a light that never goes out

i suppose i should give the world an update as to my new "college life."
perhaps, more for my own purposes than anyone else's. it's nice to read a diary, internet or otherwise and see yourself in the midst of a flux of dynamic experiences. life is such a strange equilibrium.

i have successfully made some friends i guess; nice people who laugh at my admittedly spur of the moment jokes.

i am slowly discovering myself and it is a nice feeling, though i find that it's very difficult to traverse the highway of hurrying students on my way to the chemistry building, and even more difficult to reason with myself to walk 10 feet to the showers, and awkwardly shut the propped open door that reveals to passersby (1/3 of which are male) that i am in fact coming out of/going into a stall or brushing my teeth with my loud, sputtering sonicare toothbrush.

one thing that is easier than those things is making friends and oh my goodness, getting exercise. i don't think i've walked so much in my life, which is not saying much for me. unfortunately the difference is made by the dorm food and the abundance of free pizza everywhere i go.

being away from home makes me miss my family with such sincerity. i miss them in every step.
when i'm waking up 3 or 7 times in the morning, trying desperately to pull myself from memory foam induced sleep, to when i'm brushing my hair or putting on an underskirt, knowing that my mother would like it that way.

last night when i came home to my dorm, i felt this incredible sense of unwholeness. emily was gone, and no one was there except for me. it was 3 am and i had just taken the 81 back to the union and taken the elevator in lieu of taking the healthier stairs.
my parents had called me five minutes before, which i think is funny. they knew by some parental omniscience that i would be awake.

when my dad picked me up today, he told me not to worry-- he had loaded all the songs from iTunes successfully onto an external hard drive, while calmly warning me to keep track of my things, "A twenty second investment now will save you hours and hours of aggravation."

coming home today filled me with relief. after watching youtube on my dad's latest obsession--the blueray--of indian music gameshows, SaReGaMaPa and Indian Idol, i know i can go to sleep.

don't get me wrong, college is rather amazing.
i love the freedom i have, to go shopping, to join groups, to make friends, to go out on my own and to not have to ever pay for gas. that and the subsidized food and movies.
i love the built in movement and music. i like that there are people around who want to make friends, and to experience life.

i like that our teachers don't baby us and expect us to do things by ourselves, but that help is still there if you ask for it.

Cosmo Doing a techie article?

You say crazy, I say amazing.

http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/relationship-advice/google-relationship-savers

Google must be sleeping with Cosmo or something.
(But for realz, those are great great amazing features. Gmail is ahead of its time for sure. I want to work at Google. Trouble is, I'm an idea person, not a programmer.)

Isn't it weird that...

all the best bands have the creepiest lyrics?

all the people we think are badass in movies would be considered really mean/unreasonable in real life?

no one really gets together with people they hate like they do in my favorite romantic comedies?

most of the problems in the world can be summed up by people going to an extreme?

we are all the result of some love-making?

everyone goes to the bathroom?

we all have armpits?

our emotions are very chemical, so basically our whole existence could be a big chemical reaction?



I wish I could read your mind.

The Shins are my best friends

They love kids.

Day 33/end

"Ye mehra india, I love my India."
I am currently on the plane back to Umrika. This is probably the weirdest flight I’ve ever been on; only because it has cool TV options, with a touch screen monitor on the back of every seat. As soon as I got here, I began voraciously pressing buttons. The only problem is that the airplane is totally possessive of our attention. Every time an announcement comes on the movie gets interrupted by a boring detailed analysis of how the flight will go or whatever. I mean, it’s actually kind of nice that the pilot talks, but the flight attendant is like really bad at reading out loud. Plus, American voices can be harsh on your ears after 5 weeks in India.
I met two women in the airport named Geeta and June, because I was eavesdropping on them talking about what you do if you are going somewhere after going to Chicago, and what you should do with your luggage. June was Southern, white and wide and had apparently just met Geeta, when I heard her say, “No, I’m here all bah mahself. I’m doing somethang I’ve never done before in mah life. “ Upon hearing this, I promptly turned around. I was so abrupt about it that they noticed and talked to me. The two personalities before me couldn’t have appeared more different. Geeta was tiny and seemed very tired. She was Indian, and has lived in America for over 30 years, still sometimes saying sentences like “What school you are going to.” (I punctuate it with a period, because that is how it is said, it’s a common Indian English mistake.) By watching her speak, I could tell that she was reserved, and took time to phrase what she would say. When talking to her, she would often continue speaking after I thought she was finished. Some part of me felt like she was just being polite to Joan, but she seemed in spite of the reservation, truly interested. June, on the other hand, was loud, eagerly conversational, very large and very happy. And me, somewhere in the middle of these two extremes, and somehow not feeling out of place.
We discussed India, as June flamboyantly detailed her unpleasant encounters with the airline and with the non-toilet paper possessing bathrooms that are so prevalent, especially where she does religious missions. She would’ve been annoying, but she was just so endearing and so friendly that you couldn’t think a bad thought. She told us about how she gets flashes of the future, and how her friend who was her interpreter had a twenty minute conversation with Jesus, while she shrugged and modestly said, “I wish I could do that!” Somehow knowing that we could all sit there and talk about India and June’s cats, made me really hopeful for the human race.
And now I must tell you about my last couple of days; they have been filled with shopping. We bought kurtis and books, and I even got a new Death Cab CD. I am now totally worried that maybe not everything got packed… because I didn’t actually physically pack my own suitcase, Bhua did. I neurotically felt like re-packing it, but Bhua was getting upset. Oh I almost forgot. My hair is straight now. And it will be, for a while, which is hard to think about. I know it’s controversial to say, but I really liked having curly hair, and you know, it was kind of sexy, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so, but it’s also really nice to not have to touch my hair or anything and have myself still look presentable.
I’m watching Shrek the Third right now, so I’ll get back on this in a bit.
Okay I’m back. And it is more than a bit later. I am sitting comfortably in my study. I think it is time for me to tell you about my last day with the kids. My hair was newly straightened, and I was feeling really new, except I wasn’t wearing a belt with my outfit that really required one. Abhinav had developed photos of them to give them, and I woke up ridiculously early after having passed out during a conversation the night before. We didn’t have lesson plan. We didn’t want to try and teach them anything on my last day. It was fun.
Everyone was like, weirdly amazed by me. “Good Morning, ma’am, you are beautiful, ma’am!”
I ran around with the camera, videotaping the babies and children that come into the center and taking masses of pictures of the kids. They were so excited to see their photos, and even one of the women whose child was getting a checkup wanted to keep a picture of me and my grandparents. All the women at the center made a big deal about me, putting a sari on me, putting a bindi on my forehead, putting a chain across my hair. They painted my nails, while trying to set me up with my cousin, which gave us a funny story to tell my Bhua afterwards. With the both the boys and the girls, we had a little party where we gave them weird fruit cake flavored muffins which they loved and played with them. The boys all danced with me and tried to teach me their Bollywood moves. We sang Love Me Do, which I taught to them and is their new favorite song. I took about a million photographs with one of the most charismatic babies in existence and her mother. Throughout the day, I started feeling more like a giant ball of mush.
As the girls started arriving (they come from school in groups of two or so), Anjali handed me a beautifully decorated card that said “I miss you I love you” . On the inside it said, “Thank you teach me English. I will never for get you. You are beautiful.” She shoved a pair of earrings into my hand. I thanked her and I gave her a kiss. I like these kids better than a lot of people, they legitimately cared, and they showed it. When Saima came in, she handed me a letter that was similarly filled with short, meaningful sentences that make me tear up a little when they’re written. We didn’t get to have much of a party with the girls as we did with the boys, because they had to finish their meeting, and I’m only there for the first half of their day. During their meeting, Jyoti performed her duties as president, while putting mehendi on my legs. It kept on accidentally getting smudged by hand gestures and people’s shawls. With five minutes left before Bhua was coming, and Jyoti just starting on my second leg, I started to become frantic that I wouldn’t get to say goodbye properly to the girls. Abhinav handed me the phone and made me talk to a frantic Reenu Bhua who thought the mehendi would get all over the car if it was on my legs, because she still believes I’m seven years old. Meanwhile, a little kid handed me a pair of earrings and a bracelet and said, “it’s from Heena.“ I asked where Heena was, and she said, “Oh, she left.” Abhinav tried to chase her down, but to no avail.
As Jyoti finally finished I told the kids I had to go, and that I loved them, and thank you for all the amazing times, and that I loved being their teacher and that I loved all of them. I don’t know if I actually said all of this, but this is how I felt. This all happened in like one minute though, so I probably didn’t say it all. The little kids at first were like, “Okay, see you tomorrow” and then they realized it was my last day, and they all stood up. I said I would miss them, and they said they’d miss me, and I started leaving the room and they followed me. I went and hugged Anita and the staff, and the kids swelled around us like a symphony. Anita started to say goodbye, and that I should come back, as all the kids were shouting, “Goodbye Ma’am,” “Come back ma’am” and then one child said, “Don’t go, Ma’am.” Then they all started asking me not to go, saying “Please don’t go, ma’am!” Suddenly it was just a burst that happened inside of me, and I just started to weep, because I didn’t want to leave. I loved these kids, even only after two weeks with them. I loved them and their incredible potential, their willingness to learn, their resilience, and their love of life. I loved that they had opened up their world to me, they had talked to me like I was one of them, they had learned and loved “Love Me Do”. They didn’t really know what to do when I started to cry, except Sweeta, the program coordinator, gave me a hug, and Katherine gave me a hug, and Sinku gave me a hug. Then I started gingerly walking to the car with the mehendi still on my legs, wearing just one shoe, as the children followed after me. They came up to the car, blowing me kisses and telling me they loved me. Bhua, unphased by the 25 or so young children bidding me farewell told me not to get anything on the car and scolded me for getting mehendi on my legs, while the children waved and waved until we drove away.
I guess I’d never really felt that way before, as if someone really needed me or wanted me in their life, enough to feel my absence when I’m not around. I mean, of course, my family. The children had enjoyed me, they had found me to be a good role model and a good teacher, and with all my clumsiness, I never thought I could be.
If you want to know, I’m glad I went to India. In fact, I’m infinitely glad I went. It has given me the most perspective I could’ve asked for. Just to see how the life is, how so many centuries of wisdom coexist together, how the culture evolves, yet stays the same, how a value for material things makes service better, how people can solve the world’s problems and still ride around in a three-wheeled vehicle peddled by a man on a bike. It’s surprisingly akin to me. I feel like this big vast multicolored quilt is very close to me. When people would ask me how I like India, and if it was different from home, I’d say, “Yes, it’s different, but it’s still my home.”