Journeys in Service Captures an Indicorps Decade

Journeys in Service Captures an Indicorps Decade

Shezeen Suleman’s project was to help ensure the availability of safe and adequate drinking water in Ludiya and surrounding villages. “I brought my thousand page hydrology book from college thinking it would be the best resource I had, and it was utterly useless. I had to re-learn how to learn,” she remembers. Starting with what she describes as “a thousand cups of chai” with people across the area, Shezeen learned the value of the knowledge that does not always appear in textbooks or Western universities. – “Beyond Relief” – Journeys in Service, p 11

Looking back, one of the greatest lessons I have learned is to hold nothing back and trust the process. A part of this trust is the realization that just because you cannot see the change you are looking for does not mean it is not there. In a place where everything is so unfamiliar, why would change be so easily recognizable? – “Service for the Soul” – Journeys in Service, p 112

Indicorps excitedly announces the release of Journeys in Service, a new book which commemorates a decade of innovative experiments in social change. Indicorps runs a one to two year intensive, grassroots fellowship program which challenges Indian youth to reconnect to India through hands-on development projects. Over the years, hundreds of fellows were willing to throw their belongings in a backpack, live under any conditions, and embark on a journey to change themselves and the world.

In an effort to document the impact of the Indicorps experiment, alumnus Gaurav Madan criss-crossed India and re-visited a diverse array of projects. The projects range from a maternal health initiative in the unforgiving desert of Rajasthan to a critically-acclaimed play featuring youth from the slums of Bombay. Journeys in Service shares ten stories that provide insight into Indicorps’ journey, our local partner organizations across India, and the communities that are the backbone of our learning. He penned these narratives based on his research, personal interactions, and hundreds of interviews.

Journeys in Service brings to life Indicorps’ unique approach to service and development. The cuts are deep, the edges sharp, and the learning profound. Come join us in our journeys in service.

Individuals and organizations interested in ordering copies of Journeys in Service should contact Gaurav and Vijay at book@indicorps.org.

Indicorps is a non-partisan, non-religious, non-profit organization that encourages young Indians throughout the world to give a year of dedicated service to the country of their heritage. Indicorps is a US-based 501(c)(3) organization.

From Kutch: Reflections on Change

A few weeks ago I was in the Silver Spring, counting blizzards as the feet of snow piled up. Today I sit in Kassam Kaka’s home, in the village of Tugah. I’m here to reflect on change, social change to be exact. Projects and experiments, that began nearly a decade ago, initiated to work alongside communities in earthquake (2001) affected villages. I’m here to piece together the stories of Mana bhen and Rava bhai, of Indicorp fellows – Shezeen, Anjali and Samina, and try and weave together a narrative that tells one part of a larger story.

As I interview women who work with Gram Shree, a women's empowerment organization, I can’t help but steal glances at their striking dress and amazing jewelry. The aesthetic is inescapable. The vibrancy and color of life is in sharp juxtaposition with the arid, barren landscape. The earth below is cracked, dry. The blinding afternoon sun leaves moments like these, to embrace the shade, and reflect. And even still, it’s hot, like red hot.

It’s hardly been two days in Kutch. There is a certain pride that is apparent here amongst people. Despite such a harsh climate, a lack of water and significant isolation there is a sureness of the way of life and existence in a way that expresses no feelings of threat from outside. As Kora bhen says, “What works for us, works for us. What works for others, is good for them.”

It’s strange to be here so temporarily. It’s almost as if I am simply taking, with nothing to really offer. But it reminds of something Jayesh bhai once said, “Those who want to give must also be ready to receive humbly.” And it’s sort of ironic, that even after a year of service in villages at the foothills of the Himalayas, with a Western education, and an exciting project here in India, I am still receiving.

Last night I slept so well, outside, under the stars. They were beautiful. Even though it is blazing hot here throughout the day, the nights are cool and early morning hours cold. I suppose that’s the desert for you. The snow and streets of Washington, DC are far, far away. And it seems that in just a few weeks – from Delhi to Ahmedabad to Kutch, these reflections on change are only beginning.

The Return of Masala Justice

In a matter of days I will be returning to the motherland to once more dive into the masala. And while it won’t exactly be the India that most of us see from abroad, the India crystallized through Bollywood scenes, the magic that permeates the air (real and on the screen) originates in the country’s heart.

Flowing through the veins and arteries in the fields and villages, through the urban centers amongst the throngs, that’s where you can find the magic. The stuff both dreams, and reality are made of. Over the next five months I hope to once more be taken hold by that heart.

Partnered with Indicorps, I will be embarking on a project that will take me across the subcontinent. I will be visiting ten NGOs Indicorps has partnered with over ten fellowship classes. Conducting an assessment of sorts, I will be penning narratives from each. By capturing stories from each organization, reflecting on the Indicorps philosophy and experience, and interacting with communities across the country I hope the culmination of this project will help to engage the development community and Diaspora in a discussion regarding the importance of youth service and leadership in India’s development. I hope to further explore the transformative nature of intense service, and the value of collective struggle.

It’s another journey into the true heart of India and into the hearts of those who believe in something more than your average Bollywood/Hollywood film. So this is the preview. Picture it as well as you can, choreographed dance scenes included. Of countless hours on trains, and more villages than I can name. The changing landscapes and unexpected plot twists. But really it’s the people that make the film worth watching. All of those who aren’t our average Bollywood heroes and heroines. There is much to be learned from these places and people, about humility, and struggle, and laughter. What keeps us going is the inspiration in the air, the belief that there is something more out there beyond material comforts and packaged re-affirmations. Oh yeah, and it’s going to be hot.

This past September, after spending 14 months in India I returned home to the United States. Five months in suburbia have certainly highlighted the disparities in mindsets from one place to another. It is these changes in mentality that are much more interesting than any sort of difference in standards of comfort. The next five months on the move will certainly present another reality. These two extremes have come to define my life over the past couple years, but the opportunity to once more embrace the struggle excites me. It’s not just breaking out of my own comfort, or navigating living with contradiction. It is also the larger, more pressing idea of struggle; the struggle for dignity, for justice, for sustainable, inclusive communities.

In a matter of days I will be returning. What guides me from still so far is the film’s tagline. It’s the tagline for the struggle, the personal, the public, the belief that another world is possible. It reads below the glossy cover image (you choose, the dark, mystical rural landscape that holds all your deepest fears and hopes, the blurry train in motion on its epic journey , or the rain drenched hero with his dismantled ego beside him). “The heart is a muscle the size of your fist. Keep fighting. Keep loving.”

It’s just a matter of hours now. It’s time. Keep reading.

Bringing It All Back Home

This past May I had the opportunity to visit Anandwan and Somnath, two project sites of the Maharogi Sewa Samiti, popularly known through the work, efforts, and dynamic personality of Baba Amte. Built and run by cured leprosy patients and others, the two places provided interesting examples of some of the uplifting work that has been going on by dedicated people under the radar of the mainstream. As my fellowship year comes to an end, and next week brings about the final Indicorps workshop, I hope all that I feel can be laid out there – the successes, the frustrations, and all these thoughts on the brain.

As I look forward to continuing my own pursuits of creative expression and social justice there are things that I have seen, and done, and been a part of over this year that I would like to firstly understand, and then begin to apply in my own life. For sure this work, this year has straight up been one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. From living and working alongside rural communities here in Kumaon, to the entire Indicorps experience and philosophy, this year has also undoubtedly been one of most enriching of my life.

Being a part of rural communities and understanding in a holistic way, what life is like in pahari villages has provoked a lot of critical thought on the lifestyles I have known. Being in an area where the overwhelming majority of people depend on agriculture for their own sustenance and livelihood has allowed me to witness a different type of society. Engaging with villagers, from grandmothers to Gram Pradhans has allowed me to build relationships with people from such radically different backgrounds, and still be able to make deep connections. Seeing how hard women have to work here, even those younger than me, without a moment of rest day after day. Struggling to understand this country from a different perspective, and building my own relationship with India outside of family visits and family privilege has changed how I see a lot of what I do.

This year I have tried to live simply, and learned what is actually necessary, and what really isn’t. I found myself capable of things I previously would never have even believed I could undertake. I fully understand now that process is as important as product and progress and development is a slow, and not always so pretty process, but it happens. I have seen the value of pushing yourself and stepping far away from any sort of comfort zone. I’ve learned that while there is much to be done, there is no better way of going about it, other than doing it. And all of this has re-sparked my own interest and commitment to creative, community organizing.

I think like my fellow Fellows finishing this year it’s still not entirely clear what exactly I have done or if I have had any significant impact at all in the long-term picture. But I am excited about the future and all there is to be gained from this past year. And as I sit back and reflect on a year past, and look to the future ahead, I am reminded of Dr. Vikas Amte’s words back in May in the unforgiving heat of Maharasthra.

“Our work begins now. Yesterday we were alone, but today we have some fellow travelers.”

Here is a man who has been a significant part of an incredible organization that has unarguably done incredible work for the past 60 years. Many would say what has been accomplished in that corner of Maharasthra is impossible, if they hadn’t seen it themselves. An organization that carries the name of one India’s great social visionaries, and at the same time stresses not the Amte name, but rightfully so the collective effort. With six decades of experience and projects all over the country the message was loud and clear: “Our work begins now.”

And so I’d like to extend this message to my fellow Fellows finishing up this Indicorps fellowship year of service, to the incoming fellowship class, and all those who organize alongside marginalized communities. It’s a message I’d like to pass along to my comrades from high school and college years that marched in the streets shoulder to shoulder with me, and stirred other classmates to question the status quo. I’d like to echo this for my friends wherever they may be in the world, for my friends’ parents who have watched me grow up, watched me make mistakes, and for my parents’ friends who left India a generation ago to settle on the shores and in the suburbs of the United States. To those who get the Bob Dylan title reference, and to those who don’t, “Our work begins now.”

From Bob Dylan to Baba Amte, I say, wherever the inspiration comes from, follow it. A long time ago I acknowledged that just as this year was not the beginning of my interest in working for social change and social justice, this year in rural India would not be the end either. Wherever we may find ourselves there are always ways to break out of whatever is simply prescribed, and more fully engage with our surroundings. Because the intangibles certainly are important, and while reflection too is important, so is staying on-point, and being ready to take those next steps.

Reflection Eternal (Perspective)

The starfilled sky blankets my thoughts tonight. And the images return. The silhouettes of trees are striking in the dark. The edges of pine blur the lines of these moments. At times like this it’s all just so peaceful. The empty roads during late night walks, it almost seems that I have these hills all to myself, at least in these moments.

There is nothing more but here, there is nothing else necessary right now. The rest is for tomorrow. The music in my head, accompanies the silence, the soundtrack to the reflection. I brush my teeth, head titled upward, inhaling starlight .With that canopy above how many times have I stared up at the sky from different hills, from different villages, across Kumaon? Having established the setting, once more we engage in the reflection, while the lights of Almora remain directly ahead in the distance.

This place has become my world. Nowadays, I find myself so familiar with my environment that often I am unaware of the world outside of this everyday reality. It makes sense I suppose. I have spent the majority of the last year in these villages, amongst these hills and forests. I have spent much more than time however. It’s been the energy, the effort, the frustrations and excitement, and certainly, most certainly the incredible people. The amount of love I have gotten here from people, in the villages I have been working with for the past ten months is something that brings an immediate smile to my face, and warmth to my being. This affection from neighbors, villagers, strangers – one does not easily find anywhere, encompasses me in the spirit of these hills.

When I embarked on the journey that brought me here I left behind relationships, a certain lifestyle, and the domineering culture that, to be honest, had been part of my life for the past many years. To go from that to this, to such a radically different place and state of mind, to struggle, and accept, and eventually embrace. In all of this, there is perspective worth searching for.

From all the things I’ve seen and done and learned here, about this work, about this place, about myself. At some point to go from here to there, to the other side of the globe is a jump that at times I wonder, what will it yield? In trying to understand what this year has truly been, I reckon that that perspective I am seeking will hit me on the other side. When I am back in the world of suburbia, of strip malls, and parkball, and late night freestyle sessions, it may be like, “Holy shit. I just did that.”

And it’s not that I am not conscious of all that has happened here, though incapable of putting it all into words. The efforts I have put in to understand and work alongside rural communities have already been much more than meaningful. As have the challenges I have dealt with and the ways I have had to get to know myself, ways that have not always been the most pleasant.

It’s just a whole lot to try and interpret all at once, especially when you feel unconsciously so connected to your surroundings. The question of perspective is what awaits in that world that had been default, up until recently. Then maybe the people, the struggle, and the grassroots will take on meanings that I cannot even see from my current Himalayan vantage point.

But right now it all remains in my head. Each step is comfortably placed on this ground. We shall save the inevitably continuous speculation, the late night reflection for other nights. Tomorrow will come with new stories and new challenges. And with time further attempts will be made to ponder the meanings of perspective. Tonight these hills are mine.

Journey(s)

Journeys. Much is made of the word and its’ associated meanings by the Indicorps brigade. At this point, any further attempt by me is certainly certified clichéd. And as I sit on this train and journey on, this time towards Nagpur, it all seems fittingly framed through the horizontal metal blue bars across the window.

Some of the paint is chipped, some of the dust is still settling, but it all keeps moving. I see the traffic of the city flowing by, kinda insane, but at the same time normal. The city lights pass, as do the slums. The heaps of garbage, the congregations of rag pickers next to the pristine walled-in green, green lawns. Soon the urban landscape fades and it is back to the khet – and rural India. This time in the plains, far away from the villages I know in that corner of Himalaya.

And so the recurrent conversation of this year (or is it this lifetime?) returns – of journeys, and understanding, or rather struggling to make sense of it all. Of wealth and privilege, and urban and rural, and where I’m coming from, and truly where I’m going. Not simply Anandwan or Sewagram, but where will it all lead? When do the answers come? And where do we go to find them when questions only become a little sharper? Cut a little deeper?

The moon is full. It shines light down on the setting below bearing witness to the journey. The singular and the plural – weaving in and out of one another, like the strands of a double helix. Connecting and disengaging. And I told you so. Totally, certified clichéd.

National Rural Health Missing?

National Rural Health Missing?

“This is activism."
“This is what I know how to do.”

Since my arrival last September in Kumaon, at the foothills of Himalaya, the focus of my efforts has been working to address issues of public health with local communities. This has mainly involved organizing alongside Gram Panchayats. Gram Panchayats are elected local village councils that deal with social, economic, and developmental issues of the community. The Panchayati Raj system is backed by the Indian Constitution, which gives certain responsibilities and authority to panchayats to address issues of social justice and development. Since September I have seen my work slowly moving along, progress and small victories here and there, but it certainly hasn’t been easy. It’s involved a lot of patience, waiting for people to get on board, both in the communities and NGO, for meetings to start and action to be taken. It’s involved a lot of walking, up and down hills, across streams and through villages, at times for eight, ten, twelve kilometers a day. And it has included an immense amount of learning – about rural India, development, public health, village governance, and myself. It’s the type of work where the results don’t necessarily show in any sort of immediate timeframe and the questions only increase as time goes on. And honestly, every so often I have found myself questioning what impact I am having. In the long run, are these efforts I am undertaking enough to make a difference? Sometimes I wonder. But enough about me, what about rural health?

In brief, over the past eight months the process I have been helping with has involved forming health committees through village panchayats, providing trainings and workshops to these committees on their roles, responsibilities and rights, identifying main health issues and problems, writing out yearlong action plans to address the major health issues identified, and beginning the implementation of these plans. The issues range from anemia to waterborne illnesses (diarrhea, jaundice, typhoid, worms) to women’s health problems such as leucorrhoea. Importance is placed on antenatal care and on child health, specifically, ensuring that children are receiving the proper vaccinations. Health committees also address basic hygiene, cleanliness, and sanitation. This type of organizing has also included ASHAs (Accredited Social Health Activist) and ANMs (Auxiliary Nursing Midwife), in short government health workers that in different capacities work to address various health-related issues in villages. And in recent months implementation of the action plans drafted by health committees has begun. De-worming tablets have been requested by health committees and distributed, hemoglobin tests to check for anemia have been done, and springs and water tanks have been cleaned to help combat waterborne illnesses. Health camps on leucorrhoea have been planned and letters to the block and district levels have been sent.

Here’s one really quick anecdotal example of something that’s been achieved. For up to two years in many villages Iron Folic Acid (IFA) tablets have not been available through local government health supplies. It is strongly recommended that pregnant women take 100 tablets while they are pregnant (200 if they are anemic as well). In an attempt to get IFA tablets restored I spearheaded a campaign where Gram Pradhans and health committees sent multiple letters to both block and district health departments inquiring over the lack of IFA supply. Gram Pradhans even took up the issue at Block Development Committee meetings, a place where issues of health are never raised. Four months after the initial letter was sent word came from the Chief Medical Officer of the entire district that IFA supply would be restored for the entire Ramgarh block, and has now reached the majority of villages. A similar campaign was initiated to restore the supply of Vitamin A dose for children, which has been absent for almost three years. A couple days ago a letter from the CMO arrived informing CHIRAG (the NGO) and Gram Panchayats that Vitamin A is also being fully restored to the entire block. Chalk two up in our column.

All of these efforts have been within the larger context and framework of the National Rural Health Mission (get it? Mission, Missing. I thought it was kinda clever…), an Indian central government program initiated in 2005 to better attend to health in rural parts of the country through a number of different programs. While the NRHM covers the entire country, there is special concentration on 18 high-focus states (including Uttarakhand) “where the challenge is the greatest.” The NRHM specifically focuses on a decentralized approach that gives much decision-making and planning power to the grassroots level through village panchayats. In theory, action plans made at the village level are supposed to help determine the block’s, and in turn, the district’s health agenda. The idea is to empower communities to take ownership over public health in their villages. Another portion of the NRHM is the realization of Indian Public Health Standards, which aim to improve the level of government health service delivery. While on paper the NRHM may seem quite solid in its approach, the reality on the ground is much different and in remote areas there are still many challenges to be faced.

As the opening steps of implementation of these action plans unfold and village communities and health committees slowly become more familiar with health issues and use to the idea of taking action on these issues, there’s another idea I have had. The reality is that when illnesses or health problems strike, the majority of people make the several hour trips to the nearest towns of Haldwani, Bhowali, Almora, or Nainital. While more local facilities exist they are often underused and under-stocked. For smaller illnesses and injuries these local sub-centres can play an important role. As I see it, along with implementation of action plans, health committees could visit sub-centres to see what supplies and facilities are and are not available. Equipped with a list of what should be present, according to Indian Public Health Standards, such a visit would firstly familiarize committees and villages with what is available at their local centers, and secondly provide a platform for these committees to place pressure in order to ensure that the facilities and supplies that they are due will arrive. At this point I’d like to note that this is not to put all the blame on local government facilities or on the staff that work there. Nor is this is to say that the state is doing nothing. While health issues have not received the urgency they deserve, and there has been a slow response, some efforts have been made to address health. One example is 108, an emergency ambulance (and fire/police) service that has been introduced as part of the NRHM, is functioning fully in this area, and is used frequently (especially for deliveries). Even the name of this piece is posing a question. And the response is clear that things are gradually happening to address health and clear that there is plenty more to be done.

In my very-much-so imperfect Hindi what I have been pushing for with my colleagues and with committee members alike is for a more pro-active stance in seeing that health facilities provide what is needed. “­Dekho, apne aap kuch nahin hota. Thora sa dabana, thora sa hilana, phir kuch ho jayega. Agar log awaaz nahin uthayenge toh sarkar sochegi ki subkuch thik hai. Koi dikkhet nahin hai. Aur ye jhagara ke baath nahin hai. Ye apka adhikar hai. Aur ye main nahin bol raha hun, CHIRAG nahin bol raha hai, sarkar bol rahi hai ye sare subidha hona. Humen sirif dekhna kya hai or kya nahin hai. Phir is jankari ke saath hum kuch kar sakhate hai” (“Look, nothing happens on it’s own. You have to put a little pressure then things will happen. If people don’t raise their voice the government will think everything is fine. There’s no problem. And this isn’t about fighting. These are your rights. And I am not saying these facilities should be there, CHIRAG isn’t saying it, the government is saying all these facilities should be there. We’re just seeing what’s there and what’s not. Then with this information we can do something”). And so these visits have been planned. At this point it’s not entirely clear if it all will go as planned (but rarely is it ever). What happens from here and how successful this campaign will be are still to be determined – both in the short term and in the long run. Stay tuned though, and I’ll try and keep you posted.

So when my friend and colleague Manish points out that this approach I am encouraging is “activism”, I don’t know what to think. Maybe he’s right. But what are we talking about here? We’re talking about people following up on what is guaranteed to them. We’re talking about be able to have your blood pressure or hemoglobin count checked. We’re talking about pregnant women having access to Iron Folic Acid tablets, and communities being able to purify water with chlorine tablets. The ability to perform a safe delivery outside of a hospital, in an area where the majority of deliveries still happen at home. We’re talking about access to the basics. What I do know is that the background I am coming from is one of student organizing and social justice activism (in Washington DC and more so the surrounding suburbs, a context that is completely different from where I find myself now). And Manish is right when he goes on to say that it’s not necessarily the approach people are use to, but lets not forget that this is also the land of the Chipko movement and of Mahila Mangal Dal.

In any case, it’s been one way I have found myself engaging in my project and trying to build something here. Aside from being slow, and frustrating at times, there are moments where these ideas can also be exciting. Amongst communities and committees interest has been sparked and that spark has led to a little excitement from time to time of my own. It’s exciting to feel the potential of panchayats organizing around issues they haven’t normally done so in the past. Traditionally in this region panchayats have focused on physical development –building roads, sidewalks, and water tanks. Soft-development areas like health or education are relatively new, uncharted territory. This is the first time in this region that panchayats and communities are coming together in this way to address health. It’s been reassuring to see the priority women’s health has taken in this process, as issues of leucorrhoea, anemia, and maternal health, have been recognized as issues that must be addressed. What is more encouraging is that men have been active in identifying women’s health issues and pushing for them to be tackled in what remains a rather patriarchical society. And the moments I am able to see my work and time here through this lens, it’s pretty cool. To be a part of this course, though still in the opening steps, in a process that will take years and years. And it’s meaningful to me to be doing it here, however small my contribution in the larger picture, in rural India. In this corner of the world, in this place, which over the past so many months has become familiar. And if I may remind you, it is health we’re addressing, a fundamental human right, and a fundamental human need.

New World Water

From rural Himalayan villages to urban city slums one lasting notion that has stayed with me throughout my Indicorps fellowship year thus far has been the importance of water for a healthy and prosperous existence on this planet. Now maybe this sounds all too obvious and it doesn’t take a year of service in India to figure out water is important. But seeing just how important water is, and what issues arise when there is a lack of clean water has been striking. Maybe it's been being in a rural area working alongside communities with an NGO that has its hand in everything from health to forestry to education. A part of it certainly has been living in villages and seeing what lengths are taken everyday to simply collect water to use for cooking, and cleaning, and drinking. It’s been seeing the importance of proper sanitation; or rather the immense accumulation of waste from a lack of proper sanitation, in settings like the slums of Kanpur and the city of Ahmedabad. And it’s been the work I have been doing – a village governance and public health project, and hearing about the high instances of water-borne illnesses like jaundice, diarrhea and typhoid. Or maybe it's just been after all of this, taking into account what many of us take for granted. Whatever combination of these experiences it may be; seeing the effect of a lack of clean water on communities brings up certain questions. Questions like, given the stark realities related to a lack of clean drinking water and proper sanitation shouldn’t access be ensured as a fundamental human need? If water is so precious then do those of us who enjoy easy access to it have a responsibility to conserve it? And do we presuppose our inherent right to water, a limited natural resource, while so many others struggle without such availability?

Apart from being an NRI who has grown up in the DC suburbs, and an Indicorps fellow who has been riding the highs, lows, successes and frustrations of a year of service in rural India, amongst other things I would have to identify myself as a hip-hop head of sorts (I even was an emcee in a couple bands in high school, surely that’s got to count for something?). Now obviously what immediately comes to mind in this rumination on water is track nine from 1999’s Black on Both Sides by Mos Def (an incredible album, first track to last), New World Water. Putting aside the politics of hip-hop, the song is on-point as Mos narrates, well, new world water (I know right, I was thinking the same, how fitting for this piece). Now to some it may seem like a little bit of a stretch to relate the experiences and realities of working for change in rural India with Brooklyn-born-and-bred lyrics, but I feel the connection is quite simple, and if you bear with me, in a way sort of insightful. The origins of hip-hop music come from a place of providing a voice to those who are not always heard, a place that challenges and critiques the social problems of our society, and a venue to mix poetry and politics. A place to provoke thought and discussion; a space to engage in and initiate social change. And you know what, fine, if it doesn’t work for you then merely accept this as an extension of my own multi-hyphenated identity. But really, aside from blazing break-beats and raw, speak-truth-to-power-in-yo-face lyrics it’s this unabashed, unapologetic rejection of accepting the status quo that I fell in love with as a kid. And the kids these days you know, this hip-hop stuff, they really love it.

“Man, you gotta cook with it, bathe and clean with it/When it's hot, summertime you fiend for it” While living with a family in the village of Simayal, most mornings I would descend down from the house I was staying in to fill a carton of water from a water tank in the village. This was the easy part. The steep trek back up with gallons of water situated on my shoulders would unfailingly leave me sweating, despite it being the middle of December. I figured it was the least I could do to help out as I too used the water to wash my clothes, to bathe with, and in the food that was prepared. While I made that trip usually once a morning, it was repeated seven or eight times everyday. Just knowing that made me conscious of the water I used whether it was to brush my teeth or wash my dishes (which I mean, honestly isn’t the case now with the tap I use in my current living arrangement). I began to depart on these morning pilgrimages for water once the rainwater tank had run out. Outside the house there was an underground tank that held water collected during the monsoons. This rainwater harvesting allows for a large amount of water to be stored, and conserved. Yeah, it’s pretty cool stuff. By the end of my stay with the family I had gotten use to my daily routine, but in the last days the outdoor water faucet by the house started to provide a couple hours of water every morning. Now I would reckon that most of the people who end up reading this may struggle to fully imagine and recognize the fact that in many places in India water is only available for a couple hours a day. To use water often involves first carrying it from a long distance, and especially in a hilly region, to collect water requires a physically strenuous task, a task that often is assigned to women.

“You can laugh and take it as a joke if you wanna/But it don't rain for four weeks some summers” In rural Kumaon, and most agricultural communities, water from the sky above is an integral part for sustenance. In particular, precipitation is counted on for the livelihoods of the majority of the population – farmers. Both too little rain, and too much rain can negatively impact crop yield, and many, many lives in turn. But merely precipitation alone is not required. The reality here in this part of Kumaon, like many places in the world, is that there is a significant shortage of water. This can be attributed to several main reasons, one being deforestation. While the state of Uttarakhand boasts one of the best forest covers in all of India, forests have steadily been declining, which has led to a drop in the water table. It’s sort of like this you see, due to deforestation there is less infiltration in the ground that leads to soil erosion, which means less soil depth. This leads to lower recharge of water in the ground, which means lower discharge (my shit isn’t that hot, I had to have this explained to me more than once). Climate change also plays a part in less precipitation. For example, this winter I mean it was cold, but given the Himalayan setting it was quite mild. It rained maybe once or twice, and only snowed once, an actuality that was constantly deplored by the local population. And this is not the first year such a phenomenon has occurred in an area that is use to receiving much more severe winters. Lastly, this being such a stunning area an influx of hotels and hi-fi summer homes has cropped up throughout the region. The luxuries such places have include the ability to switch on and off water from a tap or shower at will. The increased level of consumption that these hotels and homes bring has placed strain on springs that are the source for water in the area.

Now don’t get me wrong. It wouldn’t be fair depict those coming from abroad or urban India as totally insensitive to water, and try and give off the idea of everyone here as water-conscious sadhus. There are many a day when I see water faucets in villages that are left running or that simply cannot be shut off. But real quick, back to this idea of consumption, now that’s a familiar one. What you got for me Mos? “Americans be wastin’ it on some leisure shit, while other nations be desperately seekin’ it.” The population of the United States accounts for less than 5% of the world’s population yet consumes approximately 25% of the world’s fossil fuels. In regards to water, inefficiency and a lack of infrastructure in developing nations can lead to high per-capita withdrawals, just as high or higher than in developed countries. Still, according to the UN Development Report (2006) the average North American uses 400 liters a day, the average European 200 liters. This is in comparison to the “average person in the developing world uses 10 liters of water every day for their drinking, washing and cooking” (Water Supply and Sanitation Collaborative Council). The reality remains that around one billion people today lack access to decent access to safe drinking water. I can remember the days of twenty-minute hot showers, sprinklers running non-stop in every other suburban yard, and the tap running as I shaved or brushed my teeth. The question is, should be doing more to consume less?

And when was the last time that we had serious reason to worry about getting sick from the water we consume everyday? Through my efforts here it has become quite clear that waterborne illnesses are a very real problem that affect every single village I have organized alongside. Related to water, these efforts have included conducting water tests, trying to secure supplies of chlorine tablets and bleaching powder from local government health facilities, and organizing health committees to clean village water tanks and provide de-worming tablets. Specifically, the instances of water-borne illnesses increase dramatically during the summer and monsoons, and as the season is approaching I am currently in the process of trying to launch an awareness campaign about purifying water through chlorination and boiling. According to UNICEF, “a lack of safe water and sanitation is the world’s single largest cause of illness.” The same report goes on to state that everyday approximately “4,500 children die from unsafe water and lack of basic sanitation facilities.” And that’s not to discount the lead in DC pipes, but even then boiling water does not include burning the precious wood and other forms of fuel that has been back-breakingly collected.

One of the United Nations Millennium Development Goals includes “halving, by 2015, the proportion of the population without sustainable access to safe drinking water and basic sanitation.” In recent years there have been a number of campaigns pushing to have clean water explicitly recognized as a fundamental human right and ensure that people everywhere can cheaply access it. And if this wasn’t enough to try and process at once, there are other looming questions to be addressed regarding water as a fundamental right, and the effects of its privatization. “Used to be free now it cost you a fee/Cause it's all about gettin’ that cash money” In many places in the world, India included, privatization of water has been met with fierce opposition by civil society groups, NGOs, and activists. Critics cite that privatization may lead to profits being placed over people’s needs, gives too much control and preference to multinational corporations over an essential human need, and further disadvantages poor and marginalized populations (those that don’t have a hook-up with municipal water facilities). Another criticism that is levied against the privatization of water is that privatization is often imposed by international economic institutions (like the World Bank and IMF) through neo-liberal policies, at the expense of the developing world.

There is a fear that if water is commodified then only those who can afford it will have proper access to it. And maybe that is already beginning to happen. Like access to decent education and health, water is a basic necessity for a thriving human existence, one that every human being would like to have, and one that rights-based conventions and declarations seek to ensure. A report by The Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights concludes by stating, “It is now time to consider access to safe drinking water and sanitation as a human right, defined as the right to equal and non-discriminatory access to a sufficient amount of safe drinking water for personal and domestic uses - drinking, personal sanitation, washing of clothes, food preparation and personal and household hygiene - to sustain life and health.” Proper access to clean drinking and sanitation is required for a healthy life, a life with dignity. It seems maybe a bit odd then to profit off of water when there is such a dire need for it in many places of the world. Especially, when we do not respect the limited resource water is, as we pollute and waste, not heeding calls to conserve. But at the same time there are those individuals and entities that profit off of this type of commodification. “The type of cats who pollute the whole shore line/Have it purified, sell it for a dollar twenty-five” But maybe I digress.

And so after all of this hullabaloo I’d say the magnitude of water should not be downplayed, whether we recognize it from the subcontinent or clever rap lyrics. Obviously there are many more questions than what I have simplistically tried to put out there in this brief discourse. And while there may not be easy answers to all of the questions regarding the larger issues of water consumption, there are easy steps we can take to consume less, possibly the first being, simply being aware of how important water is the world over. So I humbly request that you accept these written bars as some food for thought. But to tell it best I defer to Mighty Mos, “Tell your crew to use the H2 in wise amounts/Since it’s the new world water, and every drop counts”

From Kanpur to Delhi: An Evening with Indian Railway

I arrived at Kanpur Central Station a little before 10 pm. My train was scheduled to leave at 10:45 and I was ready to be on my way. I approached the board with all the trains and departure times and such to see that my train was delayed, until 3:35 am. I stood in front of that constantly flickering board for half an hour in the hopes that my train’s departure time would miraculously change to some time before 3. But this was no time for miracles, at least not yet.

As I paced around the station and kept checking the board all that happened was I became more familiar with my new home for the next several hours, and my train got delayed even further, 4:35 am. So I paced around some more. Eventually I walked to the platform that this alleged train was supposed to leave from and, well, I sort of walked around for a bit longer… Almost every semi-clean spot was taken, by someone’s luggage, someone’s child or someone’s body. Underneath the stairs leading up to the walkway the situation was much the same with hundreds of people resigned to their wait – smiling and chatting, furiously eating, or simply taking the moment as it was just then and there, staring off, their thoughts taking them to other realities far from the platforms of Kanpur Central.

Train stations in this country are a unique place, unlike no other. I guess that’s what unique means. More people than you could imagine fitting into one space comfortably, from all sorts of backgrounds – religious and economic, social and cultural, speaking different languages, carrying all sorts of things, going about their own business. Polite, congenial, passing one another by, with a host of exceptions included. It’s a sort of glimpse at the cross-sections that make up this masala called India. Migrant laborers, traveling college students, wide-eyed foreigners, farmers, and businessmen and women. Saris, dhotis, jeans, t-shirts, kurtas and pyjamas. The young, the old, the rich, the poor, the people who look happy to be on their way, and those resigned to whatever fate awaits them. In-credible India.

I finally found a spot for myself on the walkway above the platforms. I spread out my chaadar on the least paan-stained part of the walkway, took off my chappals, and lay down. So this was my fate for the evening. To be honest I was pretty annoyed, and tired. I had been counting down the hours until my train was to leave and it would only make sense that my train was delayed in this “lets-push-Gaurav-to-the-brink-of-his-limits” type way. It could be worse, I tried to reason, as I stuck out my head in an attempt to swallow as much of the breeze from my vantage point above the rail tracks. And honestly what else could I do? Below I saw the trains come and go, people hop on and off, shove themselves and their luggage through the crowds, and carry everything and anything imaginable along with them. Above was the non-stop racket of the announcement system, alternating in Hindi and English, informing all of us, every two seconds, which trains were arriving when, on which tracks, and which trains were further delayed – mine included, until 5 am now.

It was almost funny that I was stuck in this station, until who knew when. Almost. It was sort of like just what I deserved for spending so much energy anticipating my departure. In any case I figured if I was planning on waiting till 4:35, another half hour wasn’t so bad. The reality was that I really had no choice. So there I was, one of the huddled masses (the huddled molasses, my new band name) taking it all in, with no rush to be anywhere, because right there and then, I really had no realistic place to go. The whole walkway was lined with sleepers and dozers and watchers and listeners like myself. I quietly absorbed the scene around me. People were covered from head to toe, like mummies, underneath their shawls. Some were passed out on top of their luggage with no regard for whatever may be on the hard and dirty floor beneath them.

When I got tired of watching my comrades at my side, I would examine those with purpose rushing by. Here once again was the intersection of badly dyed blonde heads and vibrant traditional outfits. From time to time I would read my book, then stop to once again gaze at the travelers throughout the station. Somewhere between all of these musings and activities (we like to call it time-pass) I dozed off for a bit only to be awoken by the incessant chatter of the announcement system, which kindly informed me that my train was now only to arrive at 6 am.

By this point I figured there was no rational reason to believe this train was going to arrive any time soon, if at all. Maybe it didn’t really exist. Maybe all of the other passengers smartly hopped on other trains much earlier instead of lounging like myself on the prosperous comfort of the floor of Kanpur Central. It was 3:15 in the morning, it was time. I hopped to my feet, collected my things, and strode with a sense of purpose to the ticket counter. I was going to create a hulla, I told myself (more realistically, I also told myself, I was going to try and buy another ticket). As I walked down to platform 1 I saw a train was slowly pulling away. I saw it was going to Delhi. I needed to go to Delhi; this train was going to Delhi. I ran up to it and asked the guy standing in the doorway of the moving train, Ye gaadi Dilli jaarahi hai? He said yes. I jumped on. I found myself in a sleeper compartment, with an open berth. I quickly locked up my samaan below the seats, and went to sleep.

I was woken up at quarter to nine by the prodding fingers of the TT. He asked me quite routinely whether I switched seats from another compartment. I fumbled sleepily for my glasses and stared at him, thinking about what I should do. He asked for my ticket. I handed him the one I had, braced for the impending cataclysm. He told me my ticket was for compartment S11. I had no clue what compartment I was in, but he did not seem to notice my ticket was for a completely different train. I quickly snatched it back, and apologized. Naam kya hai? Khan? Aap M. Khan hai? I didn’t want to lie to him. I wasn’t M. Khan. The TT was shuffling through all his papers checking the names on the list. I told him I’ll go back to my compartment and started grabbing the bag I was using as a pillow. Thik hai, bat jao. The TT stared at me for what seemed like a little too long, but was probably no more than several seconds. I was waiting for it, for something, something that was going to drag this out to the eventual realization that maybe I didn’t belong there. He told me to sit down below and continued on his rounds of the compartment. I smiled.

If you must know, it was a comfortable ride back to Delhi. I made a point to spend time hanging out the doorway as the train whipped through the countryside (one of the best ways to spend a train journey), simply breathing. I took in the villages of Uttar Pradesh as my mind engaged in trying to catch up to speed in processing the last eight months. From my work in the rural hills of Kumaon with Gram Panchayats and the public health system, to my experience as an Indicorps fellow, to the thoughts of my home, my family, my friends and the indulgent lifestyle I was living.

This processing included the past few days, which encompassed visits to the villages surrounding Kanpur and the slums within the city. It was all flying through my head. The story of the weavers, who enthusiastically told me about the cooperative they had started a year back, as I accompanied them to open the group’s bank account. The group of women in the slums who were running their own SHG and proudly explained their history. The family who insisted I first tell them who I was, and about the public health work I’ve doing in the mountains, and insisted I tell them as I munched on fresh tomatoes from their fields. The laughter between strangers who know they will never meet again, yet engage each other fully with no formality or hesitation. And the site of the Ganga, black, full of sludge and pollution from the countless tanneries that inhabit her banks.

There is still so much more to mentally document from these past eight months that I am sure there is a lot I have already forgotten. A number of people, both young and old, kept getting on and off the train, many still bearing the purples, blues, and greens on their hands, faces, and clothes, displays of a well-celebrated Holi a few days before. A family around me took turns reading religious poetry and discussing their interpretations. My Hindi was certainly not up to pace, but it was entertaining nonetheless. I chatted with those around me as I inched closer to my destination.

It was just another part of my journey, the larger journey – through India and Indicorps, one I have resigned myself to not fully comprehending just yet. Another story I may or may not recall, another piece that adds to this imperfect puzzle, and imperfect understanding of what this country, and this year, means to me.

I arrived in Delhi around noon. I was happy to be headed home for a day or two as I continued on my journey of seva. As I carried my bags up the stairs towards the exit, I heard from my good friends over the announcement system the train I was supposed to come on was further delayed, and was now to arrive at 5:30 pm.