Mumbai, India

Monday, June 22, 2009

by Naomi Zacharias

We wake up early and sip on chai tea while eating an omelet and a few chapatis for breakfast. We meet Ena, the director of the vocational training program for women. She is stylish and chic, and as I shake her hand I comment that I like her earrings. “You like them?” she remarks. “Here, you must have them,” she says as she angles her head to each side to retrieve the earrings. I laugh and put my hands up in protest, but she takes my hand, places the large, antique gold earrings that look like India in my palm and closes my fingers overtop. “They are yours,” she says decidedly. I really liked her shoes, too, but I didn’t dare comment and then see her go barefoot. The facility is on the same property as the home and it is beautiful. Inside is a large room with a high ceiling and quaint looking sewing machines. Silk pajama bottoms in tangerine and lavender hang from racks and are stacked in piles, ready to be boxed and shipped. I leave her and Emily to discuss the program details, the mission, the method, the budget, the business plan. I stroll through the grounds, make a few phone calls, and wander back to the house to speak with the girls. They are familiar and feel known to me, even though I live hundreds of miles away and can count the days I have seen them in the past on one hand. We take some photos, and somehow I find myself sitting in a chair getting a henna tattoo on the top of my foot. I anxiously look at my watch as I know Emily will return any moment and we’ll just have a few minutes before I will say goodbye and leave her here for the next three weeks. The girls grin and as my artist finishes the intricate eastern design, I hop on the other foot to go gather my suitcase and leave, only a few minutes late but for such a good cause.

I hug Emily tightly and I hold back a bit of emotion at saying goodbye. These experiences bond you so much in a short amount of time. We shared moments witnessing heartache that then became part of our own. It is hard to explain to anyone, and sometimes you feel a little lost and sort of in this dark corner you can’t let anyone in on no matter how much you don’t actually want to be there on your own. We deal with this emotion by exchanging a few jokes and I wave goodbye to her as she becomes smaller and smaller in my mirror.

A few hours later I am in Bombay and we get lost in the streets that have no street names and address numbers. I remember my Dad telling me things like his school address was “Delhi Public School, Acrross from Fire Station.” And that was the formal address. I find it entertaining as we stop and ask person after person on the crowded streets for number 23. No one knows, though eventually it turns out to be just down the street a short way. I am here meeting with a woman who works for an adoption agency in Mumbai. We receive many inquiries through Wellspring and I thought I would do some research to provide people with information and direction. She patiently explains the very complicated process to me. As I am leaving, I am able to step inside the neonatal room. It is filled with small white cribs, each holding a little one. A few of them are just one day old, tiny bundles tightly wrapped in soft pink blankets. My eyes fill with tears and I am overcome with emotion. Moments later I am shaking hands with a six year old little boy. He has a hearing aid in one ear, innocent eyes, and a sweet smile. He shyly tries to speak to me in English and I struggle to fight tears. What I want to do is fold him up in a big hug, to make sure he is taken care of for the rest of his life. It is one of the hardest moments I remember, to say goodbye and turn and walk away. I have thought of him constantly since then. I wonder what is in store for his life, will it find him loved and cared for, or lonely and sad. I have cried many times since then as I remember him, and I think back to my conversation with Emily about how you feel it as deeply but you learn to cope. For just as it seems you think you learn to cope, there is something around the corner that breaks your heart in new ways.