Light at the end of the tunnel.
Part of me is sad.
Two weeks left. Simon left last night and I am now the last of the Original Four. It's hard for me to grasp the concept that it's now my job to show new arrivals how life happens, when it feels like so recently I was the new kid on the block. Even more strange is that Abi and Eli - people who arrived after me - will soon be departing. Before I do.
These kids I work with are my babies, every last one of them - even the whiny fat kid who everyone hates and the preteen princesses who demand me to give them my jewelry and the little boys who ask for the cricket bat every two minutes when I'm trying to teach them "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes."
On the weekends I miss all of them.
Eli and I are going to Varanasi and Agra next weekend. Varanasi is the holy city on the Ganges where many Hindus creamate their loved ones, bathe, and drink. Taking a boat ride on the river at sunrise. Agra will be the Taj Mahal, one of the seven wonders of the world. Then at Agra we'll say goodbye - Eli will be finished with her volunteer placement and go onto Jaipur and continue around India for six months. I'll come home to an empty apartment, as Abi will have gone on to her next placement in Bangalore.
Part of me is happy.
Four days after I get back to Seattle I'll be on a plane again, this time to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Dev will meet me and we'll drive back to Moncton, New Brunswick we're I'll be with him for two and a half weeks. It'll be so odd to be with him without restrictions, without curfews, without entire rows of traffic STARING at us walking down the street together.
It's a very strange feeling to be consious of every move you make when you're in public with someone. Holding hands becomes a spectator event, and depending on your location and the time of day, kisses goodbye are a definite no-go. There was actually a night, admittedly after a couple of drinks, when Dev and I came out of Tandoor Park and as we were waiting to cross the road, he put his arm around me. Seconds later I felt a hand up my ass. No accident. I whirled around, came face to face with the perpetrator, and - through a combination of reflex and total rage - slugged him as hard as I could in the chest. Dev immediately dragged me away - a white girl cursing in Bengali on a Kolkata street after dark - while this man looked mildly offended, but walked on.
The point of it is that when he saw Dev with his hands on me, he assumed EVERY Indian man could put their hands on me. Men have actually approached Dev when we're out together and I step away to the toilet, asking how much I cost.
Not dealing with this, not dealing with Dev's aunts FREAKING over a white girl, nagging about when and who he'll get married to - these are things I won't miss. And I won't miss missing him like crazy.
BUT. Ami pochondo Bharat. You are my second home.
MJ.
Two weeks left. Simon left last night and I am now the last of the Original Four. It's hard for me to grasp the concept that it's now my job to show new arrivals how life happens, when it feels like so recently I was the new kid on the block. Even more strange is that Abi and Eli - people who arrived after me - will soon be departing. Before I do.
These kids I work with are my babies, every last one of them - even the whiny fat kid who everyone hates and the preteen princesses who demand me to give them my jewelry and the little boys who ask for the cricket bat every two minutes when I'm trying to teach them "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes."
On the weekends I miss all of them.
Eli and I are going to Varanasi and Agra next weekend. Varanasi is the holy city on the Ganges where many Hindus creamate their loved ones, bathe, and drink. Taking a boat ride on the river at sunrise. Agra will be the Taj Mahal, one of the seven wonders of the world. Then at Agra we'll say goodbye - Eli will be finished with her volunteer placement and go onto Jaipur and continue around India for six months. I'll come home to an empty apartment, as Abi will have gone on to her next placement in Bangalore.
Part of me is happy.
Four days after I get back to Seattle I'll be on a plane again, this time to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Dev will meet me and we'll drive back to Moncton, New Brunswick we're I'll be with him for two and a half weeks. It'll be so odd to be with him without restrictions, without curfews, without entire rows of traffic STARING at us walking down the street together.
It's a very strange feeling to be consious of every move you make when you're in public with someone. Holding hands becomes a spectator event, and depending on your location and the time of day, kisses goodbye are a definite no-go. There was actually a night, admittedly after a couple of drinks, when Dev and I came out of Tandoor Park and as we were waiting to cross the road, he put his arm around me. Seconds later I felt a hand up my ass. No accident. I whirled around, came face to face with the perpetrator, and - through a combination of reflex and total rage - slugged him as hard as I could in the chest. Dev immediately dragged me away - a white girl cursing in Bengali on a Kolkata street after dark - while this man looked mildly offended, but walked on.
The point of it is that when he saw Dev with his hands on me, he assumed EVERY Indian man could put their hands on me. Men have actually approached Dev when we're out together and I step away to the toilet, asking how much I cost.
Not dealing with this, not dealing with Dev's aunts FREAKING over a white girl, nagging about when and who he'll get married to - these are things I won't miss. And I won't miss missing him like crazy.
BUT. Ami pochondo Bharat. You are my second home.
MJ.