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It is our last night in Auroville. And what with packing and goodbye lunches and parties, there has been no time or space to write and reflect on the multitude of emotions and revelations I have had this week. Most difficult to grapple with this week has been saying goodbye to the children from both my class and at Roy’s. School was finished this week and the children with nothing to do clung to Galen, Janina and I- coming to our rooms at every moment to listen to music, borrow our electronics, talk and hang out. Their continual questions about why we have to leave and when we are coming back leaves me with a draining mixture of gratitude for the close bonds we have developed with them, grief over the idea of not continuing to be there with them, joy over their antics and at times irritation at not being able to get space to think, pack, do errands and sit and stare into space. As a parting gift I made the children a picture album/story book of the last 8 months that we have had together. I also wrote this poem, or rather composed it in my head, while we were swimming at the beach last Sunday, and put it in the end of their book. I began it as I was standing in the shallow part of the ocean watching Dhina and Nirmal get washed up in wave after wave and watching Iypa and Galen’s heads bobbing further out. The sun waas sending sparks of light off the waves and I knew I had to try and convey to the children how much these last 8 months have meant to me. So here it is, my poem for the kids. And later- once Galen and I survive our 12 hour bus ride to Kanyikumari I will write much much more about the last week, because it has been truly amazing.

May 10, 2010
For Parimala, Dhinagar, Partiban, Geetha, Iyyapan, Parasuraman, and
Nirmalraj. You have made India home for us.
Love Meghan and Galen

India is You

Last year
India
was just a place on a map
That I had looked at occasionally.
When we stepped off the airplane in September
India was a mix of honking
and Tamil music,
bright colors, cows and goats,
unfamiliar smells and warm soothing air.
Now India is home
India is the jingle of Geetha’s anklets
as she walks up the stairs
India is Dhinagar riding a wave to land at my feet
in a swirl of frothy sea water and sparkling sun.
India is Nirmal’s soft voice as we read together in the evenings
discussing fairys, gladiators, vikings and dinnosaurs.
India is Iypa’s laughter as he teaches me card games
below 10 and 21.
India is Parasu eating 9 idly for dinner
and then spending 15 minutes telling me about a movie.
India is Partiban calling out, “good night honey”
as we walk home through the dark and the red earth
squishes between my toes.
India is Pari’s sweet hugs when I step into the house at night
and the smells of spicy sambar and warm sticky rice
pervade the air.
India is riding to school in the morning
and waving to the children in their stiff green uniforms.
“Meghan!” they shout as I ride by.
India is Sundays at the beach, swimming in the bay of Bengal
with the sun bouncing off the waves, Nirmal and Parasu covered in sand
and coconut water to cool us down.
India is riding home at night
under a full moon and stars and seeing the light from our door shining
out into the dark and thinking , “we are home.”
India is you.
And when I am far far away
and I have to look at a map again to see India
you will stay printed on my heart and in my head.
You will be the pictures of India
that I will take
and hold forever.

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