Mumbai: The First Week

Everything’s moving so fast. New city, new school, new kids, my city, my school, my kids, new friends, new home—no home—gotta find a place to live. Gotta settle in, settle down. Gotta learn—kids, school, classroom, co-teacher, rules, the local train. Gotta settle in, settle down, gotta learn, gotta live, gotta do it now Gotta do it now.

New City (My City)

Sunday evening, 11 June, 19 Fellows and 4 Staff Members pulled up to St. Pious College. Unload bags. Enter the hostel. They’re going to lock us in at 10:30 pm, they say, no in or out What sort of college is this?

I stayed in Gurageon. Crashed in Andheri. Visited Juhu Beach. Living now in Kandivali. I’ve seen so little, but this is home now, home. Gotta settle in, settle down. Gotta learn this city.

New School (My School)

Wednesday, 14 June, just the fourth day in Mumbai, I visited my school for the first time. Let’s call it Hilltop School. It is located in Kandivali, a little bit off a main road. From the main road, one heads down a street which leads to the slum. Climb up. Up and up. Up the narrow lane. Pass the open doorways, women washing sarees, dogs. Turn left at the mosque. Pass the children coming home from school. Climb up the slim stairs, climb up to the top. And there, one will find the school.

It is a nice school, a solid school. Two levels of classrooms. Outside walls painted a nice shade of light blue green. Working fans, working lights. Roof doesn’t leak. Nice school.

I walk into my classroom. Immediately struck by how wide the aisles are. Unlike summer school I can actually walk down the aisles! Small chalkboard. No teacher desk. Two feet between the chalkboard and the first row of desks. There’s a window too – opens right into the community. When class was going on I learn that people look into our room from this window and watch class - but they don’t seem to bother the class too much (only one parent actually spoke from the window).

2 hours and then I leave. That’s all I’ve seen, all I know. So much more to learn. So much more to know.

New Kids (My Kids)

They walk in. One by one. Two by two. Three by three. My adorable, lovely children. And I know not a one of their names. Not a one of their personalities. Not a one of their smiles. And yet they are my kids. Mine.

Many greet me by name and hand me pictures they drew for me printed with “Welcome Nicole didi.” My kids.

My co-teacher gave me the data.

Looking at the data, looking at the kids: Ages range from 5 to 10. For some this is the first classroom they have been in. Most can barely speak or comprehend a word of English. Some can’t even write their names. Some don’t even have the motor skills to use a pencil properly. Most can understand some math. And there is one girl - let’s call her B – who is far above the rest in English (can read, write, speak) and has a good grasp of math. 3 levels of kids. Remediation. Average. Enrichment. And how to differentiate? How to differentiate?

Yes I have data – but that’s not everything. There is so much I need to know, want to know.

A New Friend

Sunday night I arrive in Mumbai. I text him, a friend of a friend of my mother. Let’s call him F, for “friend” F’s gong to help me, my mother says. I’ve never met him. Never spoken to him

Instant reply – Meet tomorrow at 7? – Ok – Ok. Fast fast. Gotta be fast here. Tomorrow. I’m going to meet F tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes. We meet. Talk. I’m surprised. We talk “business,” yes, but also we get along on a human level. F’s nice. Friendly. A writer. Intellectual. I’m surprised.

Over the past week F has been utterly invaluable in helping me find a flat – but more importantly, he is actually becoming a friend to me. Yesterday I even cried in front of F. And he was ok with that. Helped me. I never thought I would find a friend in such a distant connection. A friend of a friend of a friend seems to be becoming purely a friend.

New Home (No Home)

1 person. 1 room. 1 BK / 1 BHK. Living alone.

F and I start looking on Wednesday. We have found options. Some good. Some not so good. One an absolute dream. And then the brokers tell me, no, actually I can’t have the room. “Society” doesn’t like that I’m an unmarried woman.

Bachelor. I’m a bachelor. Unwanted by “society.” Homeless.

But I’m staying at my coteacher’s apartment right now. It is a lovely space (just like her J ). My coteacher is being incredibly generous in letting me stay here, eat her, food, use her internet. A lovely person. But I’ll write more on her later.

For now I just have to keep up hope. There is one option I can take – not the best, not the dream, but it is something. We’ll work the system. Shake the tree. See if any apples fall.

A New Beginning

In an hour I start teaching my new kids. Maths and Phonics. I’m nervous, excited, nervous. Excited. I don’t want the butter in the butterflies. I’m on a diet. I just want to fly.

Day 0: Hello Home

Note: Due to limited internet access/time, I will be posting entries as I am able. The date they are posted may or may not correspond to the day(s) being reflected upon. This entry was written on Sunday June 13, 2010, late that night.

And as the plane descended upon Pune, I looked out the window, watched the pricks of light float by below, and said, “Hello home.”

Two years. I will be in India for two years. The vastness of time has not quite dawned upon me yet, I think, but as I uttered the words “Hello home” I began to realize the permanency of location. This is home now. Home. I just flew on a one way ticket. Soon I will start having new suits made, building up the wardrobe of my new home culture. In a few weeks I will start renting an apartment in Mumbai. I will put up posters, perhaps buy a piece of furniture or two. I will go out to work and come back to these posters, this furniture every day for two years. Every day. And when I come back I will say I am “going home.”

It is not a bad home, though. The people are very nice, friendly, and…”unique” as we have joking termed ourselves. Already I have discovered that Pune is rave central and we have begun to plot weekend outings to Pune to party and crash at another Fellow’s apartment. Of course, I have a feeling these will be incredibly rare due to the time-consuming nature of teaching. Still, I feel so blessed to be around such fun, and yet socially concerned, people – and I’ve only really known them a couple hours. These are people with whom I feel I can enjoy spending the long hours planning, strategizing, and even sobbing as the plans inevitably fall apart only to be built up again. Needless to say my roommate is also absolutely lovely (the third roommate has yet to come so I cannot speak for her). Tomorrow is the official start of the Institute, the beginning of the unknown...

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The night before my flight, I read a gchat status that struck me. The status read something like: “Thus starts the beginning of the rest of our lives.” In context, the statement seemed to refer to the fact that the senior trip to Puerto Rico organized by my Christian fellowship had just ended; thus the last remnants of our college lives, of Princeton had finally slipped away, marking the end of the “era of Princeton” and the beginning of, as the status stated, “the rest of our lives.”

And yet this moment is no special than the rest. Each moment, each day, each hour, each minute has beginnings…and endings. The wind that blew one moment is gone the next, but the leaf is carried with it remains at my feet. And then I’ll walk away, leaving the leaf behind. And yet these beginnings, these ends—none of it is absolute. I may meet that leaf again, feel that air once more. Life is fluid. Just a river with eddies where bits get caught, exiting the flow, and rainfalls bringing new drops to the waters. I leave Princeton physically, but I still carry my Princeton experiences in my memory and my Princeton friends in my heart—and in my email. :) Reunions will occur and the Halloween tide will bear me back again to Princeton’s shores. None of it is absolute.

This is not so dramatic. This is not the “beginning of the rest of our lives.” This is but one moment of many, one beginning of many along the flow of life.