Nareshwadi – the spirit of “mulana”

If you are coming from Mumbai, the Dundhalwadi area (120 km from Mumbai) would be like a small heaven to you. In the middle of these green fields and plantations, the Nareshwadi school has been established by Dr. Somaiya 30 years ago with the aim to set up an “integrated rural development model of education, health, agricultural development and economic self-reliance for the tribal community”.

When I arrived to Nareshwadi, several smiling faces have greeted me from the distance. And while we were working with Patricia, my boss and the “chief mentor” of the school staff, first children dropped in to say hello. Later that day, the 14 year old Pooja and her friends brought me to their classroom and invited me for the evening prayer. Clapping each others hands, we sang together my first Hindi prayers and I knew that Pooja would be my best friend here. After the prayer, the priest gave me medailon with “Bapu” and the big group of children around me, admiring his gesture, made me wear it. The dinner was about to be served and the children found me a spare plate (which is truly difficult!), so that I can have dinner with them. One of the 6 year old girls brought me a seat as I am not supposed to sit on the ground. I made her sit on it on her own and started to eat the rice and dal with my right hand. While the adults moved to their dining room, we sat in the dark hall and the children completely took care of me. I have never felt so welcome.

As I have learnt, almost 500 students in the age of 4 to 14 attend the school, out of which around 35 children come from Mumbai from HIV/AIDS affected families. Some of them are already orphans, others have infected parents who cannot take care of them.

Almost all children stay in one of the two hostels on the campus all year around. The majority goes back to their families at least during main holidays, but apparently the orphans or “abandoned” children don’t. If they are “lucky,” they stay in the smaller hostel which is provided by the government. There are only 3 rooms, each housing beds for 30 children. In the other hostel built by Somaiya trust, there are 10 rooms, each of them for upto 50 children, which, almost randomly mixed, sleep on mattresses and ground. And because it is monsoon and rain comes through the roof and windows inside, children sleep even in the corridors next to the toilets. However toilets, as currently built by Dutch volunteers from the former storage rooms and corridors, are a big pride of the Nareshwadi school, because for the first time the hostel can fulfill the criteria of 1 toilet per 7 students and get a governmental grant.

I must say I felt really strange, when I went through the dark rooms with hundreds of small nicely packed wet clothes, which were the children’ s only possessions. The strange feeling has not disappear since. The filthy medical room with empty health register did not convince me there is some proper documentation even in the crucial areas. But most importantly, the disputes and fights among the staff that I observed clearly even without knowing a single Mharathi word, showed to me that it will be a difficult job to get anything implemented here in a sustainable way and move forward.

Later that day, Patricia told me the story of Pooja, whose parents died of AIDS, so Pooja thus had to take care of her younger sister Chandni and brother Akshay on her own. However, her uncle thought that the children would be a good source of income as child slaves and he planned to raise some more money also by marrying Pooja soon. To keep them from their uncle and to ensure proper education, nutrition, health care and accommodation, SAHAS did its best to move them all to Nareshwadi. The social workers managed to get a signature from their closest relative, their grandmother, who by the way abandoned them, confirming that they could be brought up at Nareshwadi. And here they are, eager for love, eager to live better lives and to help others…as Pooja said should would like to become either as a lawyer or a nurse.

Patricia added, that the school teachers just do their jobs and so do the so called “houseparents.” They simply perform their tasks, or more often, they don’t even do that, but there is actually nobody to take care of the hearts and souls of these children. That is why they love volunteers who come and spend time with them. I was really touched and promised myself to do my best to make their lives better, remembering the words that Patricia kept saying on the staff meeting: “mul ana” – “for the kids.”