Shanti Dan

This is Sue signing on Annie's blog. Suffice it to say--I didn't register myself so I'm connecting through Annie.

It seems impossible we've been here for 2 weeks--one to go. I've been working at one of the Mission of Charities' home named Shanti Dan. It is a home for mentally disabled and abused women. Shanti means "peace"; dan means "gift of." Each day I try to think about those words as Julia and I take the long bus ride out there. What does it mean to have the gift of peace?

At first working with the women of Santi Dan created more turmoil in my life than I had imagined. Everything from fear of hurting one of the women to misunderstanding what they were telling me created an uncomfortable state of being. Slowly I've established a routine with the backdrop of uncertainty. When we first arrive we are greated by smiling women in bright flocks walking through a courtyard around a path to the door--"Auntie, Auntie." They hug us and pull us to them. Sometimes I sing to them; other times I talk; always I listen. What are they telling me? I rub their backs, their arms, their hands-sometimes applying cream, rubbing it into their body. Some like gentle touch; others deep message. I know who likes which now after these two weeks. We love music singing to the radio or making up songs, swaying with the music, our arms embraced, moving from side to side. We always look into each others eyes and sometimes I feel the connection. It's hard to know exactly what they need or want but whatever I do seems to be accepted and that is an amazing gift. These women have no place else to reside; they are from the streets although many of them know English and are educated. Something has happened in their lives to bring them here--an accident, genetic disorder, circumstance of life. it reminds me of what it was like when institutionalization was popular. They receive medical attention and have some psychological consultation. Some of them tell me: "I am now well." And when I ask them if they will be leaving, they answer "no." This has become home. Sometimes I walk with them in the courtyard looking at the flowers grown by the Sisters, talking about the limes on the trees. They smile and tolerate my idle chatter, holding my hand as I walk pulling this way and that. And when I get ready to leave, they hug me, holding on, touching my face. I say I will be back; they shake their head in understanding not quite believing but hoping. With our palms held together, we say "namaste"--I recognize the self in you.

I have learned many things while being here both about Indian life and about ourselves. The Indian people believe in simple material comforts and rich spiritual accomplishments. The nurturing of relationships, tolerance, social harmony and hospitality are paramount. India is a collective culture where ideals of humility and self-denial are respected. People do things through acquaintances and friends; privacy is not important here. Something we have noted on Sudder street is the lack of care and decoration in dwellings. India, even when it can afford it, is not the land of the house and garden makeover that is we see in the US. At the risk of generalizing, Indians admire the simple life and the purtiy of the soul, and do not necessarily feel that outward trappings are important. I think this is why the dirt and sensual bombardment of sights, sounds, colors, smells--we find so upsetting, don't disturb the residents here and why they accept "life in the streets." There are many thing I have noticed while being here about myself. I have learned:

• to refrain from judgment because there is probably another way to interpret happenings
  
• a smile is the universal symbol of acceptance
• privacy is overstated
• hospitality and kindness are central to a connected life
  
• slowness is essentail to absorbing life
• to suspend disbelief because possibilities are everywhere.

My time in Kolkata assures me of some things. This I know:

• human touch is powerful. And so we rub backs, apply cream, massage arms...
• laughter connects people. And so we tell jokes, point out humorous situations, laugh at our clumsy attempts to do the right thing.
• people like to tell stories. And so we listen....to words in different languages, even when meanings escape us..and we hear their stories in their eyes, their intonations, their expressions. Their lives will not go unnoticed by us and so they become part of the web of what it means to be human.

There are things I still wonder about, such as does service come before love? Does meaning arise out of service? How exacty does one give and accept the gift of peace? We don't have all the answers yet but we are trying to absorb different cultural influences into our own philosophical and spiritual framework. It is hard and difficult and tiring and time consuming. This experience gives us the chance to develop our own qualities of patience, tolerance, and understanding, and to some degree to discover our limits. It is a dynamic experience where we are served as much as serve.