10 Minutes

Today was my 6th morning with my Kolkata women friends. My co-volunteers and I arrived to unlock the padlocked room at 8:30am, after greeting the first 10 or so women who met us at the entryway to the building. In this small room, which is also a den for children's lessons, staff's English tutoring sessions, and weekly shock therapy with the psychiatrist, we find our supplies in the lonely drawer beside the 2 vinyl cots that line the walls. Each day, I fill my wick-away fabric capri pockets with the key ingredients for my morning shift: a bottle of nail polish, pair of nail clippers, sheet of "bindis" (traditional sticker dots for the forehead), pair of latex gloves, ballpoint pen, and a small bottle of lotion. In my arms, I carry a "Doodlepad" of paper, and a box of crayons. Other preparations include drinking at least 1 liter of water, arranging my headband for maximum possible sweat-catching, and reviewing my limited Bengali vocabulary.

I walk out onto the circular patio/sidewalk area that provides a welcomed shade between the homes' rooms and a small courtyard. The house has 2 floors, and is home to over 300 women with mental illness and developmental delays, all of whom have arrived here by way of transitional homes of either prison or a hospital. They will live here for the rest of their days and be cared for my the Sisters of the Missionaries of Charity, the Indian "massies" (similar to house-mothers), and the foreign volunteers from all over the world.

Until we meet for our chai tea and biscuit break at 10am, my co-volunteers and I immerse ourselves in a unique and meaningful style of companionship. I walk along the 1st-floor-right section, my adopted usual area, and greet as many women as I can with a mixture of English "Good morning" or "Hello", and the Bengali "Namascar" or "Kamanacho". I offer a hand to shake, or a touch on the shoulder, or a small wave -- and to all try to offer my genuine affection through my eyes and smile, with faith in this back-up to more traditional communication. In the distance I walk of perhaps 50 yards, I greet about 40 barefoot women, the contrast between their brightly colored dresses and beautiful dark skin filling the path. Some are lying on the cement floor, others are sitting on the old wooden chairs or cement benches, others are standing in their own space, and still others are walking slowly around the 1st-floor-right atmosphere.

I try not to have "favorites", but of course I find it impossible not to find a special connection with some of the women. My Spanglish brain has yet to master many Hindi/Bengali names, but I find that is less important than I had thought: The striking silver-haired woman with the purple tunic has the warmest gaze I have ever seen, and we sit and hold hands in companionable, comfortable silence in the way of childhood friends. I make sure to visit Veronica, wheelchair bound and around 80 years old, to practice her English and exchange short stories. My round-faced friend with the terribly broken front tooth hesitates to let my hand go after we meet -- and to be honest -- I hesitate to let hers go as well, receiving so much energy from the manner in which her face lights up. I stop to sit with the beautiful, tall, long-haired women with wavy hair, who openly serenades me as I cut and paint her finger and toe nails, both with traditional Hindi tunes and "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star".

As you can see, there is too much to say. Above I have described only about 10 minutes of my "typical" day and emotions here in Kolkata! But, I have hibernated from the sweltering temps and humidity for more than my share this afternoon, and must move on to other chores of market shopping (haggling style) and finding out more about where the "laughter yoga" takes place.

Much love from all of us in India!!!

Anne/Ani