I'm back at home now. After nearly a day of travelling, I'm back in the same place I haven't seen for two months. We had a good trip, I'd say, minus the odds and ends of losing your bag. It's India though, and we've come to accept that this is usually a part of the travel experience. That and paperwork. I don't think I got enough time to say goodbye to everyone in our group as our single path split up across the states. Maybe that's for the best. Maybe that lack of closure means we're not really ending anything, just taking a break till we reunite back at Duke. Though it was also sad to leave Baishakhi behind (at least for the time being) as she's been our constant caretaker and companion for so long, I know I will continue to see her compassion when I get back. Group dynamics and fluidity made our group the best out there and I know the lack of proximity won't change that.
I've been avoiding the blog, avoiding the inevitability of accepting my change in situation. But I think it's time to take a little bit of time to reflect, to take stock of my DukeEngage experience. For one, it's been hard to get used to this new life of, well, nothing. In contrast to my early mornings and action-packed day, relaxing takes a little getting used to. I find myself wishing I had more to do but at the same time relieved that I really have no obligations.
But India's not so quick to let loose its grasp. I'm still having loads of tea at all hours of the day and thinking about meal costs in rupees (That bacon and eggs and the airport definitely did not feel the same as the Emperor's Feast at Oh! Calcutta.) I've brought so much back to remind me of Kolkata: ominous masks from the Sunderbans and hard-won bargain books from College Street so it's easy to keep India in mind.
I'm still getting over the fact that what had become so much a part of my life, my work at Future Hope, is (for the time being) over. Sneaking smiles and thumbs ups to my class 3, playing chess with the upstairs boys, talking with the Ballygungers, these times are behind me. I'm not going to be going over long division, playing football in the rain, tucking the small boys into bed, not for a while. And that's a little hard for me to accept.
Getting email from the kids, I'm realizing just how far away we really are. My eight minute bus ride has become an eight thousand mile journey and I'm starting to feel the separation. But I can't stop thinking about all of the kids, relating my stories, remembering the memories. I've been going through pictures and looking back at the cards, reliving each moment and so they won't fade away in the stream of new information I constantly receive.
But, as I constantly remind myself, it's not really over, not for me. I'm not closing the book on Future Hope, shutting away the tome of memory and experience. I continue to share my stories and memories with everyone I meet, relating hardships and hopes of the kids. I'm going to continue to email and update Future Hope on my own endeavors while asking about theirs, making sure I'm in touch with all the progress, and the setbacks. I'm going to try and fundraise at home and make sure there's a bunch of people interested in serving in Kolkata next year in the program. And I'll still be blogging about the experiences that have been important to me both on the trip and since then.
But most of all, I'm going to try as hard as I can to go back. It's obvious that being at Future Hope affected me and I can only hope my work helped in some way affected the kids who so quickly accepted me into their lives. I'm going back because I think there's so much more I can do, so much more I might be able to offer. Plus, I owe the kids for all of the things they taught me about life, love, and hard work. I owe my time to provide for them in the ways they provided for me from meals to language lessons to time just to sit and talk. I never had a doubt that the kids would be smart but their intelligence, confidence, and happiness continues to amaze me. I want to continue to be a part of this, this overwhelming hope for the future.
How it ends is really how it begins. The end of this chapter simply means the start of a new one. So I'll try to maintain my broken Bengali, keep my appetite big for the huge meals that will come, I'll keep my remaining rupees and prep myself for the steaming heat. I'll make sure I can match names to faces for the hundreds of boys and girls I got the opportunity to meet ( I'm worried that they'll change so much in the months that I'm gone but I'm also excited to see that development. ) And I'll count down the days until the lives of me and the people at Future Hope again collide.