It is 1.50 am in Bali. 11.20pm in India. I listen to the gentle croak of the night-time crickets and occasional 'clucking' of the bungalow rat. There is so much life. Even in the dark the air is rich with fragrance of the lush green vibrant nature all around. I am trying to imagine hearing the noise of Kolkata: the shouts from the street, the persistent 'brums' of the yellow taxi's, the banging of doors and stamp of footsteps as human life pervades stillness and nature fades into a background flutter of the wings of a mosquito.
Deepa spoke yesterday. 'Up up up' as she walked up the stairs to the concrete rooftop. The rooftop which seem so very far away from the fresh rice paddies of my Ubud room. Despite the distance, despite the eleven months since I last saw her, despite the yoga, diving and trillion other events which will make my return journey possible, I haven't been able to stop thinking about her first word; 'Up'.
Earlier this year, in April I was standing on a ledge of a limestone rock, in Thailand's climbing paradise, with my head cricked upwards towards the sun. A unknown woman to my left was waiting for her turn to monkey her way up the rock. She was friendly and told me of her adventures around the world. She was exploring the beaches of Asia and soon to be in the roof of the world in Nepal, and then onto India. And then she mentioned the magic words 'Child Speech Therapist'. I poured out my stories fuelled from my guilt of leaving Deepa, while she told me about her ideas of volunteering. Within minutes Deepa's first words had been secured – but neither of us knew it at the time.
Climbing Woman only arrived in Kolkata last week. From my little laptop here in Bali I wrote pages of information, details about Kolkata, Shishu Bhavan, about Deepa, but the words only came into life in the replies which she typed. The last few days have been a painful realisation. Climbing Woman became Climbing Warrior Woman as she took on the establishment of one of the cities biggest orphanages. She was told:
You could be a doctor or a teacher or a therapist. I don't care. You are here to love all the children, all the same. That is all that you are here for. And I don't want to talk about it any more.The tone, the meaning, the disbelieving frustration, echoed in my heart and weighed down on my conscience. Had I misled her? I knew the ridiculous reality and yet even I was shocked by the words of the new Sister in charge who didn't want Deepa to be receiving any 'special' attention. A few mails later and Climbing Warrior Woman told me she was stepping down; defeated. Unable and unwilling to battle everyday for Deepa's words but would continue to visit her a few days a week. Instead she would volunteer for another organisation more receptive to her skills. Furious at the inability to facilitate a possible solution. Tightness gripping at my privileged naive shoulders, there was little I could do but agree and be Angry.
I tried to counter balance the failed expectations which had been fueling these past months, taking reassurance from yet another 'expert' opinion which failed to agree she was autistic but instead just mute from the madness around her.
But today I read about these 'first words' – her first ascending words to independence. I hope.
I finally booked my flight yesterday. Arriving later than what I wished, but enabled by Air Asia's new route from Kuala Lumpur to Kolkata. A very small price to pay for a journey I have been waiting to make for eleven months. It still seems years away but the anticipation continues to hug my body with a scary premonition of the battle ahead. After reading the hundreds of words from Climbing Warrior Woman I predict fights with the forces that be, as they restrict progress with their own blindness. My expectations of more waiting words are dangerously high. I wish I could climb the coconut trees like the grinning gardener I saw today. Releasing the areas of tensions that six hours of yoga still cannot reach. Aum vighna nashanaya namah. Perhaps Ganesh can help to remove the blindness of a missions of charity without the sight of real transformation. Without the ability to truly faciliate a real life for the hundreds of dependent beings in their care. I wish I could filter power and perseverance across the Indian Ocean: Warrior Woman, who I met for what was only minutes, I hope you realise, you have already changed Deepa's life beyond words.
“Patience and perseverance had a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish”.
To read more about the work of Warrior Woman see her blog: http://www.camilleonthego.blogspot.com/
I have decided to use Deepa's real name (previously I had wrote about Gita). I want her power to be shared and voice heard.
