On two days' notice, we piled all the first graders into 3 taxis and
a car to go to the Bombay International School kindergarten - 3rd
grade exhibition.

Our organization does a lot of work with that school, which donates
space and resources to conduct after-school classes for teenagers.
So, we set out to let our first graders see what other first graders
were doing in school - first graders at a private, English medium
school. A long way, in distance, culture, and quality of living from
our little school in the slums.

As the 3 taxis filled with kids and accompanying teachers, I got into
our principal's car - 5 little 6-year-olds in the back seat, and one
on my lap in the passenger seat. As the car started and pushed
forward, the kids all giggled and screamed with glee - when I asked
them if they had ever been in a car before, all but one said 'no', it
was their first time.

Bumps on the road caused laughter, the ascent up a windy bridge
caused jumps of joy. Each time the car stopped in traffic, the kids
shouted 'stop!!'. We all smiled and sang and pointed the whole way
across Bombay.

When we got to the school exhibit, the kids behaved incredibly well -
likely in a slight state of shock at the beautiful flowers growing on
the school premises, and the glowing newness of their child
counterparts' displays.

While the kindergarten displays were full of animals made of paper
plates, neatly colored animal faces on paper cutouts, and whole wall-
sized diagrams of crafted trees, our students were just learning to
scribble and color.

While the first graders performed a song and dance routine and
displayed portfolios about all the food, nutrition, and food cycles
they had learned in the last month, our students were learning how to
pronounce the alphabet.

But, what absolutely struck me the very most was this -- the 6-year-
olds at this other school were not only wealthier, plumper, better
dressed, standing straighter, and lighter skinned ---- they were also
6 - 12 inches taller then our group of children from the city slums.

My, what malnutrition can do to a child who otherwise appears to be a
perfectly happy, playful child.

In comparison to the wealthier children, our kids have rotten teeth,
dull skin, uniforms that are likely washed once a week, sniffles and
coughs, and are extremely short in height and lacking in weight.

But I will say, these kids from the slums have bigger smiles than any
other children I have ever seen. There is a richness in their smiles.

Opened the double door to my classroom this morning, the first one into the bottom floor of the dank government building, as usual.

Turned the lights on, and - funny - there were scattered flash cards just beneath the supply cupboard. Set my things down, and noticed the two dustbins near the door had fallen over.

I was the last person in the room on Friday afternoon. Now, Monday morning, and I'd say someone else had been there. Went to the supply cupboard, and as I opened the doors, bottles of glue, more flash cards, paper and a stapler fell to my feet.

A scurry led my eyes to the top left corner. Little eyes peered out at me. I grimaced and stepped back in a flash. My fear had finally come true. I had been greeted by a rat. I stood around and thought about how to get it out. My first thought was "No way am I dealing with that thing - I'll have to wait for someone else to show up". Then I thought "Well, I DID take this job, knowing it would not be in clean areas with adequate sanitation. Heck, I can handle a rat."

So, just as I was looking for some sort of stick to poke at the cupboard with, our social worker showed up, (a young woman the same age as me), and started dealing with the rat too (in the same hesitant manner as I, thank you very much).

Finally, we found a short broom (much too short if you ask me), and I jabbed the top left corner of the cabinet. Without a second to flinch, the rat, dark brown and hefty, scurried down out of the cabinet and onto the floor. Then there we were, the social worker, the rat and I all running in circles trying to avoid each other. Finally we got out of the room, and a child's mother came walking in, and in amusement, went around the room to check for the rat. Apparently it had escaped through an open window. We found a gnawed corn cob on the floor as its gift to us.

Oh, I hope I have the room to myself tomorrow morning!!

While eating lunch the other day, we watched this man pull up with
carts of eggs on his bicycle, selling them to the restaurant.

Quite different from the truck delivery system back home!

Well, it started raining again last night after about 2 weeks of wondering where the monsoon was. The city recorded 6 inches of rainfall in only 4 hours --- wow! Here's a story about it.

So, I never got to work this morning. In fact, only 1 person got to our school, and the rest of us all got stuck in various ways. I was able to get on a train, but once I crossed the bay and got into the city, the train had a hard time getting between stations, and finally, 1 1/2 hours later, pulled into a station a few before mine, and I got off to try and find my way back home. 

I watched as people waded through knee-deep water on the roads in some spots - luckily I avoided that! I met up with another girl I work with who happened to be on the same train, and we caught a train heading back out of the city. Meanwhile, the other railway lines had closed completely because of flooding! 

So - hope we get to open our school tomorrow! 

Yesterday we went into the city to spend the afternoon. First, we
visited the Haji Ali mosque, which sits out in the bay offshore from
western Mumbai. A concrete causeway leads people in droves to and
from the mosque, which is open to Muslims and non-Muslims alike
(quite a treat).

Along the causeway were goats being fed scraps of plants, beggars of
all kinds - blind, handicapped, loud, silent... There were men
selling bright green cloths with arabic inscriptions, others selling
bangles, shoes, purses - the normal fare for street stalls.

The weather was nice - we had a few quick showers here and there, but
overall the breeze from the Arabian Sea was refreshing. Palm trees
swayed in this breeze, encircling the courtyard of the mosque. Some
people left their shoes to enter its interior, while others (like me)
lingered in the courtyard.

After that, we headed to Crawford Market - a famed market area we
hadn't visited yet. We found the area to be swarming with people,
taxis and hand-pulled carts. The fruit and vegetable section smelled
delicious - a nice respite from the other smells in the area.

We finished our little trip with a light dinner of pav bhaji, dosas,
and two cups of chai!

After gazing out across teeming communities from the train everyday, my first experience wandering through the narrow alleys of a Bombay slum was pretty fascinating. 

I and 8 other people - the full staff we have for the English-medium school we are opening - went into the school's adjacent community to spread awareness about the school and hopefully get about 20 more students for our preschool, kindergarten, and first grade classes. 

Stepping off the main road, we crossed a run-down dead-end and approached the entrance of the community. A rusted metal gateway, banner flying above, greeted us as we moved under it and into the beginning of a maze of activity. 

To our left, a small group of young men discussed auto parts for a truck they were working on. An old women carrying a basket of goods on her head passed us, giving an indifferent look at our obvious newness to the area. 

To our right, a man sat on the street, pounding metal against metal. Small children ran through the alleyway, which was just big enough for a taxi to squeeze through, which it did, letting out a family of four. 

We made our way to a woman's house whom some of our team had spoke with earlier. The woman planned on enrolling her son in our school, and expressed interest in helping at the school also. After a few wrong turns, we finally arrived at her humble home. 

Tucked into a back alley, she greeted us from the narrow wooden ladder leading to her upstairs abode, small daughter in her arms. On the bottom floor, five men sat in a dark, dank room, frying 'pani puri', or puffed dough balls, the infamous street snack found on corners all over the city. 

We spoke to the woman for some time, and smiled and greeted the children all around. Finally, we split into two groups, each with a handful of large hand-made banners and flyers, to distribute throughout the community and raise awareness about our new school. 

We passed through narrow alleyways, following the path of small gulleys of running water between two-story make-shift structures housing a guessed average of about 6 or more family members in each small apartment... rooms which are the size of a typical western kitchen or child's small bedroom.

Some women knelt in front of their homes scrubbing laundry on the stone ground. Others came out to see who we were. Children ran to and fro, everywhere we looked.

A pair of goats sat lazily in the sun, while a flock of ducks bathed in a small puddle. Around another corner, a small litter of very young puppies hid behind a bucket, while a green parrot gnawed on a mango in a cage hung from a family's porch.

Alleyways often opened into small sunny courtyards of open space, where a shrine was often placed. Here, the air flowed a little easier and sometimes a tree provided shade. In one such courtyard, a group of old men sat idly between the walls of an open-front stage.

Although much of the community was built from scraps, the scraps used were often good-as-new. One home had a brand new, thick wooden door, complete with grooved decorations. Another home sported light green marble walls around its front door. Some families sat watching tv on shining white tiled floors.

The abundance of life and activity within the community was astounding.

I feel much more confident now in my goal to help foster confidence, curiosity, and a sense of agency among the children who will be our students, for they already have access to so much of the resources they need to create better lives for themselves and their communities, however they see fit.

The Rains made their first appearance last night, as we celebrated our second wedding anniversary together, seated on a cozy blue couch in a cocktail lounge, over mini samosas and pints of Kingfisher.

While reminiscing about our lives together in California, Japan, and now India, flashes of blue lightening caught our eye through the aquarium wall between us and the street, fish lazily observing our evening.

At night, we fell asleep to the nostalgic scent of fresh rain on pavement, and slept soundly in the first cool hint of a new season.