Monday’s child is fair of face,

Tuesday’s child is full of grace,

Wednesday’s child is full of woe,

Thursday’s child has far to go

Friday’s child is loving and giving

Saturday’s child works hard for a living

And the child that is born on the Sabbath day is bonny and wise and fair and gay.

caption id=”” align=”alignnone” width=”538″] The community Center at Manav Gulvar[/caption]

The  classroom is bright and airy, a ceiling fan is turning slowly, and the children are seated on the floor in two rows, one against each side of the wall. Eighteen pairs of shining, black eyes follow us as we move through the space, getting the room ready for today’s project.  There is a hushed silence that feels like being in a church; each word we speak, each gesture we make, is observed with intense concentration by the children. We decide to make an accordian book of buildings with the children’s collages.  Five, ten minutes go by and I notice that no one has put anything on their board yet.  Nilam, the teacher, pulls me aside. “The children have never seen a real building, so they have no idea what to draw.  All they know are the small shops in their community.  I told them to just draw their favorite shop.”  I am stunned,speechless.  It never occurred to us that this was beyond their scope of experience. Gerald, whose heart is bigger than his size, is forever the optimist.  “Just wait.  Give them a chance, they’ll come around. All they have to do is look outside the window and copy the shrine or mosque, I’ll get them started.”

Hindu shrine in the community center

Mosque in the community center

Bea, one of the Spanish volunteers is in the room with us, as well as two Indian Americans who are there to translate from Gujarati.  None of the children speak either Hindi or English. We  go to each child and gently prod them to pick from the beautiful selection of colorful hand made papers we have brought with us, and paste something on the board. They are more comfortable with rulers and erasers and pencils, freedom is a luxury they have not experienced.

One of the older girls,Monisha,has already started to paste papers on a Hindu Shrine she drew.  Soon the others follow suit, some more slowly than others, but all becoming engrossed in the work.  Two small Muslim boys motion to me to come to them.  I don’t quite understand what they want from me,but the adoring look in their eyes has me almost in tears.  I think they want me to help, so I cut up some shapes and give it to them for their Mosque.  As Nilam passes by I ask her what they want.  She says they think I want them to put these shapes on the board, and they don’t want to do something wrong!

Two hours pass by quickly.  Children from other classes peek inside, smile, shake hands, give hugs, and even another teacher comes to join the project.  Bea and I decide to entertain them with Spanish songs.  I only know a few lines of “Malagueña” and “La Cucaracha”- but it does the trick.  They are all holding their bellies and laughing,shrieking and rolling on the ground in glee.

It is amazing for us, even after six visits to India, to be reminded how cut off some of the locals are, even in big cities. For a few hours a day, these children exist in a safe, protected, joyous and loving bubble. Maybe they do have “far to go” but it brings to mind Mother Theresa’s words

We can do no great things, just small things with great love

Gulvar slum

A very happy group with their finished project