I’ve perhaps presumptuously borrowed the title of this entry from R.K. Narayan, one of my literary heroes. Apologies to Narayan ji, I could never even dream of writing as well as he did. But my most happy role right now is the two-three hours a day that I spend teaching English to the young women at Anbalaya (Ahn-BAHL-ya). Some are more advanced than others, and after a week of sensing where each person is, I feel like now I can start in earnest.

All the young women at Anbalaya are handicapped in some way. Most are polio survivors who have had at least one operation. Some were the receivers of Share and Care’s Polio Programme, where MSF (Médecins sans frontières) sponsored operations to supplement those performed at the government hospitals. A few of the women have emerged from an institution where they were given a lot of physiotherapy. But for one reason or another they all are housed at Anbalaya, learning a skill, doing yoga every morning, being paid for their work, and living in a community environment.

Today I will profile Bharaty (her spelling). She is remarkable, partly because she has a huge struggle. Yes, she is mobile, but what a courageous battle. For her to get up out of a chair to move to the floor or walk a few steps is like watching someone climb a steep mountain. From a relatively comfortable sitting position she must lean back a little to get some momentum, and then she pushes forward with the whole of her upper body. She lands on her feet, but her upper body looks almost dislocated from her lower body, as it is forced into a backward-leaning, precarious 45 degree angle (at least). From there she sinks to the floor and maneuvers around. It’s excruciating to watch, but the determination is so palpable that all one can do is marvel.

And yet to watch her work at the straw art that the women do, one would never imagine that she had such movement limitations. Her fine motor skills are intact, as she wields the double-edged razor used to cut the straw to its appropriate length and width. Before that the straw gets dipped into a pile of glue, and the excess gets wiped off by a pressing-while-moving technique. Bharaty’s hands are more affected than most, but she brings them under her control in order to do this work.

Carmel said that Bharaty is like this because she was not treated early enough.

Bharaty doesn’t smile unless there’s really something to smile about. I’m not sure if she is so serious because she’s had a tough life, she’s just serious by nature, or her physical deformities don’t allow her to smile as we know a smile. She is direct, to the point, and intelligent. Her English is at a high beginner/low intermediate level, and she helps others a lot. It was interesting teaching her to use the computer (I’m “teaching” computer too, although so far I haven’t focused too much on that part), because she has a lot of difficulty maneuvering the mouse. So as much as possible I’m showing her keyboard commands. There are just a few places where I don’t know how to do that, but I’ll figure it out asap.

As I sit in my little top floor room with the doors open to the terrace, there’s a squirrel leaping about in the tree. Gershwin (Menuhin and Grapelli) is flowing from the CD player, and a motorcycle is revving up outside on the street. There is so much to be thankful for. And Bharaty helps make our lives a little more beautiful and challenging.

Signing off with “Lady Be Good” -

Take care,

Ellen