India: the children broke my heart + filled me with joy
December 10, 2013
A small child, maybe 18 months old, dirty, dressed in rags, squatting in the gutter, drinking the dirty water.
The image is seared in my brain. I saw it at the beginning my trip, maybe in Mumbai, and it’s impossible to shake.
The children in India broke my heart.
My first-world eyes saw no children in car seats in this third-world nation.
I can’t tell you how often I saw older children holding younger siblings, even when they were still small, themselves. These two were waiting for their mother, who had an even smaller child, below.
They were beggars.
Even in the worst of circumstances, a smile.
The poverty. And yet: smiles. What do they have to smile about? I thought to myself. Every day.
So much poverty.
And yet
I saw dozens of smiles.
Children with broad, happy smiles. Genuine.
Children dressed in rags waving happily at us as we passed. I didn’t see envy or hostility.
Just smiles.
Students in their school uniforms, grinning at us tourists.
Tiny children all over waved to us.
At the Pushkar Camel Festival
Children out with their families, waving.
We were “an event” for children, everywhere we went. And always, always greeted, whether by enthusiastic boys…
Or shyer, but still vocal young girls…
Don’t let the natty school uniforms fool you. Sometimes, they were the only nice outfits kids owned.
Yes, the children. They broke my heart, and yet, their joyous spirits were infectious. They were one of the best things about India.
I had the opposite reaction. The children lifted my spirit. Everywhere they wanted to “shake” hands American style; and try out their English, smiling and always laughing as they crowded around me. They loved touching my hair, which is very blond. It was the beggar children, out after dark with their parents, knocking on the car window as we left India who desperate for food. When I passed a banana and a roll out the window that I had been saving for the long flight home, it was gobbled down in a split second. And yes, THAT broke my heart.
We did have parallel experiences, as I had both emotions, as well. I wanted to pick them all up and make it better But of course, I can’t. And even trying to help from here is hard because of the corruption and the inability to ensure the help would get where it’s meant. So, our own homeless are where we focus our efforts.
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I had the opposite reaction. The children lifted my spirit. Everywhere they wanted to “shake” hands American style; and try out their English, smiling and always laughing as they crowded around me. They loved touching my hair, which is very blond. It was the beggar children, out after dark with their parents, knocking on the car window as we left India who desperate for food. When I passed a banana and a roll out the window that I had been saving for the long flight home, it was gobbled down in a split second. And yes, THAT broke my heart.
We did have parallel experiences, as I had both emotions, as well. I wanted to pick them all up and make it better But of course, I can’t. And even trying to help from here is hard because of the corruption and the inability to ensure the help would get where it’s meant. So, our own homeless are where we focus our efforts.
Happiness is a state of mind and these kids prove it.
Dakshesh, you are so right. And that wisdom is worthy of an entire blog post.
I am enjoying reading your posts but those poor children. They do seem to
just be grateful for what they have. The photos stay with me…
I sure can relate, Doreen.