Teach for India/Akanksha - My work.

Yash assigns me eight kids, the ones who are struggling with class room work and need special attention. That is where I come in.

I start writing exercises with the little runts, and it is a struggle. Rehan seems to comprehend nothing, when I ask him to write ten sentences on ‘My School’. Little Pratik begins to write but is unable to string even simple words, Sajida narrates 5 beautiful sentences verbally and fails to write a single sentence, Sabina sits thinking for days together, Imtiaz (a cute one I found myself being slightly partial to) speaks random gibberish and struggles to write, Ayaan seems disgruntled and angry so I humor him initially, Sahil is just a bit slow.

Three days a week, I would spend 30 minutes with each child as they struggled with Basic English sentences. By week 2, I realized who were plain distracted, who were disinterested, who only needed special one on one interaction to get them on track and who all had a genuine problem.

After a month of relenting and unrelenting sessions, one day little Imtiaz sat on my lap reading from an A4 size sheet, a story he wrote on his own. I treated a friend to coffee that day. But every class is a different story. Ayaan the moody one would some days write long dreamy sentences and on other days just grunt and give me attitude which I finally learnt to handle. Pratik , I realized after few weeks was one of the lucky kid who had someone educated in his family, only more so, unfortunately that someone was doing all his homework. Sajida has dyslexia, Rehan is plain disinterested and always distracted.Sahil just needs personal attention, eager to please, eager to learn and eager to rush through lesson just to attract my attention .Then there is Sabina. Sabina lost her father last year; her young mother is a care taker in the school itself. Sabina is struggling more than the other kids in her school work-- she is struggling with her sentences, her words and sometimes even letters. She is unable to grasp even the basics and always seems distracted. Initially I found her exasperating and extremely difficult. Also I realized she did not like me much.

My learning and understanding curve gradually rose, as I began to get more involved with the kids.Each assignment held an interesting lesson for me. For the assignment -Write ten sentences on –My house, I found most of the children struggling. They were unable to write more than 3 sentences. I failed to comprehend the reason even though it was staring at me in the face. And one day on my walk from the station to the school past the slums, I realized why. Most homes had nothing in it; a single room housed a kitchen, a bed, a small chair, a table fan and five people. This is where my children came from.

For the seemingly innocuous assignment – ‘My Family’, I learnt even more lessons.Most children come from difficult households. Abuse, domestic violence, dead parents, lack of basic amenities, money and space and many more problems is a part of the society they come from. The kids are earnest; they smile, grunt, sometimes whine through the lesson, but never seem to lose heart and spirit.

A lot remains to be done.

School is closed for summer vacations. I make my way through the tiny by lane towards the school. I continue going to the school, an hour before work, to teach little Sabina. I am still struggling with her. But I think she is beginning to warm up to me. I feel guilty on the days I am not able to make it. Summer school is going on, and I get to meet some of the other kids I taught and young college volunteers. I feel happy, a bit proud and very satisfied.

The walk from station to school which I found always ever so unpleasant and worth bragging about to add a sense of glory to my volunteership has now made me humble and so much more aware. It prepares me for the class ahead; I smile at the little kids running around, wondering whether they are from my school, or whether they go to school at all.

I realize now how small a part I am playing in my society. So much can be done, and so easily , if each one of us can take some time out.

Most importantly, this experience has made me hopeful in ME, in society and in the power of Community Service.

When you're Griping and You Know it.. Clap your Hands

At the end of the day a Relationship triumphs. You can spend a thousand years fathoming the unseen intricacies and the misunderstood squabbles and whines. But you have to understand that in the end, when the end comes, it is simply because there is nothing left in you for the relationship to take. So it decides to leave you.

I treat it as an entity. You, me and relationship-three entities. It takes the best of you and your beloved, and what is left in the end are nagging, groveling, griping, selfish, hurtful, spiteful and nasty people while Mr Relationship attains sainthood –of all that was good.

A relationship takes away so much of good in you, that you are left with nothing but regret, despise and a whole load of other debasing and damaging thoughts and foreclosures which sometimes (subjectively speaking) might drown you into the murky waters of intro and retrospection.

I hope you make it to the shore.

Sometimes I sound like such a teenager... tibit tibiptitit

Slacktivism

Helloooooooooo readers..

Yes Yes.. I am being sarcastic.. Recently I discovered that my sarcasm is lost on so many that I find it important to point it out specifically.

I wish I could converse with people with Cue cards.I speak holding a cue card -- interpret --Sarci, please respond appropriately in a robot voice…Stop > ..

Well a lot has happened, and a lot remains to unfold. I got a new job, a new hair cut --spent a bomb on my hair which looks just the same as before, I have gained some weight , I have practically given up on staying fit , I have read a million books --Gabriel Garcia Marquez --rockss!! , I have started using ‘ROCKS!!’ a wee bit too often. It seems I am getting younger -- have had an attack of the ACNE -- last time I had it was when I was 18.. I'm being hopeful here. My social life has been engaging—some what, which is extremely amusing.

My Existential crisis has definitely surpassed Hamlets.

I went home and back. I am finally over cup cakes, but I am back to the donut frenzy. I have thirty three brilliant ideas a day, it is an up from twenty. I managed to finish some of my self 'inflicted' writing assignments and I came up with a new word -- Beeverful --can be used as noun, adjective and even a verb --- Beevy, beeverful, Beevandom , it also has an antonym—add suffix ‘UN’ to all.

And now that I have a ten hour a day job, my mind is swimming with ideas of what I could be doing otherwise –quirky things to write on, Capoeira, Yoga, Photography classes, teaching Sabina . Writing like this on Monday 2 am … ahh yes, I got a job. I am amazed at my innate ability to spin my life into these constant tedious circles ever so often.

N SLACKTIVISM…

Well, I have decided to become a slacktivist. It was a difficult decision, because a strident announcement of allegiance to a pledge of fulfillment of an exercise of much magnitude and negligible effect needs a sturdy commitment. But to be honest I realized soon enough, a bit too soon that I wasn’t being very modest. There’s no one who really cares… Helloo ello loo o <>.

I have always have had opinions, judgments and point of views.

To be able to read the paper in peace (a dedicated 2.5 hours) with a good cup of coffee -- as a part of my daily routine – forms a part of my daily prayer to the lord above everyday. And I spent a good part of the day being upset over the certain and very many news pieces I read.

News has always affected me; it makes me think and wonder about the world I live in. It is not a deliberate effort but it is an unconscious element of my being and as with most around -- Crash cart --CLEAR --Mediocrity beckons--bichick. But it is etched deeper than thou . And with my new job, crowded hours -- suddenly the urge to write even more so has quadrupled. .

It is not a new found awareness that I accidently came upon at an 'about time' age. I never really found the need to write about certain things – you talk about it, ponder and maybe tweet two lines. But I wish to take my slacktivist alter ego to the next level –she doesn’t have a name…only this title.

The above rant was an almost necessary preliminary.

GoaTravelogues

Goa Pics

More on Goa : click here

Goa tavelogues : Last 3 days

More on Goa : Click here 

The last three days, I divided my time and my lazy hours between Kola beach and Agonda. One morning we trekked up to Agonda , a four kilometer hike I think and spent the whole day there –lounging, eating, playing the frizzbee , swimming and eating some more. Of course a considerable time was also spent in chatting up with other tourists.

We ate at the Greek place (Agonda) one evening, where we made some wonderful friends – Diana , a hypnotherapist and Andrea, a flight attendant . It is amazing how people meet and how several connections just unfold. We met them coz we did not have a table and ended sharing a table with them. Diana and Andrea knew Niels and Rachel (our Galgibag friends) and in turn had already heard about us. I still remember the look on each of our faces, when suddenly Andrea interjected –“Wait a minute… “.Everyone got so excited, and suddenly we all weren’t strangers anymore. Further on, Suveer and Diana found out that they follow the same school of yoga, and have also trained under the same teacher at some point. They were ecstatic, as both gushed hawed and chattered away excitingly about yoga while Andrea and me looked on. The next day they came over to Kola beach, and we spent a lovely afternoon together. Met them again in Bombay, where Andrea related her fantastic, truly Bollywood style love story that unfolded the last few days she was there. Diana stayed on for few more weeks in Bombay to practice yoga, we met often , an amazing amazing lady with an interesting life story.

We spent a lot of time with Brad and Liz too, another wonderful couple from Cornwall. Retired and living it up. They have been coming to Goa for 10 years now. We shared so many stories and so much of our histories. Thanks to them, we discovered another tiny beach close to Kola, which was incredible and so isolated.

Then there was Petra, travelling with her mom and aunt. Back home Petra has a chocolate van. Little did I realize then, that she wasn’t simply making and serving milkshakes. Check her out:

blog: http://www.chocstarblog.blogspot.com/

website: http://www.chocstar.co.uk/home.html

Foodies and chocolate lovers ..rejoice!! :)

She had so many questions about Mumbai, she was reading Suketu Mehta’s Maximum city and was much intrigued. We spent a lovely morning doing yoga on the beach and slurping on pancakes.

Sally and Fran were an absolute riot. Fran especially. We spent one evening playing Adupuli Attam, this ancient game Suveer was carrying. Sally was travelling alone, and had some wonderful tales to relate. She was missing her boy friend, a tree surgeon so much. I was much intrigued by what a tree surgeon does. Fran’s knowledge of Goa was incredible.

It was amazing how many people I met and befriended. Most had such intriguing professions—Dog trainers, tree surgeons, thinker, chocolate van driver, hypnotherapist and the likes. Conversation was so easy. Everyone was friendly and eager.

I spent the other hours of the day floating in the calm lagoon, reading reading and more reading.. Downing pancakes at odd hours and going for long walks in the evening. The nights had gotten slightly chilly; I’d snuggle under a blanket on a beach bed and stare into the dark ocean, the lit sky and into my thoughts. One afternoon I went for a long swim in the lagoon past the resort and the next one into the jungle behind. It was really quiet and so green. The water was cold and at one point, I sat still in the water, a thousand tiny fish came around me, I could feel their tiny bodies against mine, it was fantastic.

I also had 'my spot'. The lagoon would join the sea by way of a tiny stream which was flowing over the beach past big rocky boulders. The water was very shallow; it felt like a water bed, the sand was soft and wet, the flow of the water gentle. I would lie on the water, perch my head on the soft rock and read or just stare at the blue sky.

Day 3 : Galgibag

More on Goa : click here

Galgibag

http://wikimapia.org/256546/Galgibag-Beach

A remote beach further than Talpona, one of the last beaches of South Goa, it is also a turtle nesting beach. Lined with fir and pine trees, the beach stretches long. As usual, only visitors other than the locals were foreigners.

I really don’t know how we got there. But the drive/ride to Galgibag beach is beautiful. Past green hills, winding roads, paddy fields, old Goan villas, rivers and more rivers. If you wish to get there, ask the foreigners you meet on Patnem, or the boho ones speeding on bikes. Most know. Locals might blank out.

The access road to the beach is narrow; we whir past tons of foreign tourists who seemed at home. It is a small village, with rustic old Goan homes, few hutments, churches, bungalows with large courtyards and tall towering coconut trees. I spot scores of foreign nationals lounging, walking with cloth bags, peeking from houses, eating and sipping tea at chai shops and ambling along. Most are long terms tourists, who come often, living on months at a stretch and some are even permanent residents. There are no shacks on the beach. Apparently not allowed. We spot some Russian sign boards. The locals still serve food to the visitors. Picnic tables are set under the fir trees. It is picturesque.

MEET NIELS, a German dog trainer and criminal (he introduced himself like that) and Rachel – a New Zealander teacher and ardent cyclist.

We got talking with Niels and soon both Niels and Rachel joined us on our table.

Niels has been coming to Goa past 8 years. In November 2009, he was involved in an accident. An accident where three Indians were injured and Niels had half his face, from forehead to the nose cut. I also noticed deep scars on his thighs. Stuck at the government hospital in Goa, Niels describes the doctor treating him nothing less than a butcher.

Passport impounded, money over, insurance cover gone, Niels is stuck in heaven under hellish conditions. Yet we couldn’t help but laugh at his situation.

‘You could be stuck at a worse place you know’ I couldn’t help but philosophize with him. He laughs, so says everyone I meet. A dog trainer by profession, Niels and I talk for a while, about dogs, about my dog Elsa, and some more. A good looking guy, the scars on his face only add to his enigma. I found myself enamored. J .

Rachel is a teacher from New Zealand. Loves to cycle. Travelling alone, the initial impression of a shy demure girl soon evaporates when Rachel relates her travelling tales. She has bicycled through Indonesia and another country I can’t quite remember (must be eyeing Niels that time…sigh). Her cycle was parked outside, as she checked the position of sun to determine the time she had to bicycle back to Agonda. She wants to travel north now, maybe Leh. We express our reservation as she’s alone, she smiles, I find friends, she says smiling at Niels.

We bid good bye to the pretty people. Wished Niels the very best of luck. His court hearing was in 3 days. I thought that’ll be the last of them I’ll ever see, little did I know.

The water in Galgibag is magnificent. The sea bed is flat, the flat beach extends deep into the water. If lucky, you might spot the Olive Ridley turtle. As the gentle waves crashed against my body, I found myself floating into oblivion, wishing time would just still, as I watched the top of the fir trees gently sway in the breeze, nirvana seemed close by.

Further down the beach another site treated me, the Galgi River meets the sea. The patch is slightly rocky, the backdrop lined with green hills and coconut trees. The salt water lagoon rests on one side of the beach and the sea on the other side. The beach stretches till the union of the water bodies. On either side I see people lounging in water, some liketh the sea, and some the lagoon. It was unbelievable to be at such a spot, I marveled at my day, of how things collaborated through the day –the people, the food and goodness so that I could finally dip my body in the lagoon and float, while listening to the waves crashing on the other side. .