Fear

I have found something which has changed. I am now accompanied by a fear of expectation, so much so that I am petrified to return to Shishu Bhavan. In the last eleven months I have spoke continuously about Deepa. I have spent so much time trying to figure out a way to provide her with the opportunities she needs to grow into independence, and right now I am so scared that it is beyond my capabilities. I registered with the Missionaries of Charity yesterday, ready to begin work tomorrow. I listened to a volunteer warn about giving money to professional beggars, about only eating in touristic restaurants, about the dangers of catching lice, malaria and a million other indescribable infections, about how to make an appointment for confession. Trying to swallow frustrations I took my seat for registration, and felt a little of my anxiety float away, as the Sister penciled my name into the list of volunteers for Shishu Bahavan. I told her I was a yoga teacher and would be happy to provide some classes for the Sisters if they were interested? I was left smiling on the outside and in as the offer was received with deaf ears. She handed me the tiny silver Mother Teresa medal with a whisper of a blessing and then called forward the next on the volunteer conveyor belt.

A group of French flipped through the homemade Lonely Planet to the Missionaries of Charity – choosing which home to volunteer in, organising their schedules and coordinating with the available places. If it wasn't for Deepa, I would not be here The amount of willing hands is amazing. So many people wanting to experience a little of Mother Teresa's magic. But I am thankful for my self imposed responsibility to my little friend. She has given me a goal inside the enormity of poverty; but the path isn't as simple as it could be, and I am continuously trying to remain thankful to Shishu Bhavan for supporting life, while wishing they could facilitate futures. I have already received warnings that the new Sister in charge of the orphanage is battling any attempts of the children receiving individual attention. I realise that every day I will be witness to routine acts of abuse and incompetence, tempting my frustrations and giving a voice to my anger. Yet despite this, I am really scared of my own self imposed expectations. Despite how much I want to see Deepa, I don't know whether I will be able to fulfill my silent pledge to her – to help her find her life. Have I romanticised opportunity? Forgotten the rigidity of the 'system' she was more or less born into? Given myself supernatural powers to perform miracles reserved usually for only a tiny percentage of the 'normal' orphans? I start work at Shishu Bhavan tomorrow.