India

March 26

            I fought the tears as I prepared for class. Grabbing my chocolate cake the kids ask for and meeting my driver. It was a very sad day, it was my last day. I rode to Pappankalan in complete silence just trying to accept the words I kept practicing in my head, “goodbye.”

            When I arrived on the side of the road my students were already waiting where my car normally parks. They all raced to my side fighting to grab my hand. “God, stopping being so sweet, you’re not making it easy!” I thought. They ushered me into the small room I had spent everyday in for the past twelve weeks. Quickly, they saw my thoughts whirling. “Sirji, no sad.” They all frowned. I laughed with a weak smile and hugged them all.

            I started the class by handing out their family photos. They got excited as they past around each others pictures, glancing, than passing. I was so proud of how hard they worked even though there was a chocolate cake amongst them. We finished their cubes and the sparked seeing the completed project. Each student asked me to take a photo of them with their cubes. I would snap the photo and then they would flip the box to another side and ask again. 72 photos later it was time to move on. They said they would like to play our favorite game, “animals.” So for the remainder of the class we snorted like pigs, howled like wolves, and tweeted like birds. They really kept my mind off leaving, but like all things the game had to end.

            When lunch time came around, I passed out their new lunch mats (thanks mom and dad) and I cut the cake. It was then that I was given one of the most touching gifts I have ever gotten. Induji handed me a small box and the children urged me to open it. Inside was a glass figure of the god, Ganesh, who is the “mover of obstacles.”  I couldn’t possibly thank her enough or explain how symbolic such a gift was. I have a feeling she knew though.

            As the cake was consumed the children started asking final questions through their stuffed mouths. “When will you come back, Sirji?” They asked in Hindi. Induji told them that I would return after I completed school and then they started asking how many years I had left. “I will come back!” I told them. And we all smiled, knowing it was true.

            I thought about everything these children had done for me and I continued to fight the tears. I thought about Monu, Sanjay, and Rajkumar asking for my phone number so they could call me. I thought about Sharuk and Depak making me paper hearts. I smiled as I looked at Salman and remembered the time he asked if I had a girlfriend and when I said no, he said he’d look for one. Gaurav and his hugs, Sharuk and his smile, Neeraj and his laugh, Abdul with his acrobatics- it all had just whizzed by me so quickly.

            Sharuk and Salman hoped in the car with Depak, Induji, and I as we drove Depak home. They hadn’t experienced the car ride with the students last time. Depak took me to his house and I said goodbye. I returned and said goodbye to the rest of the children as I started my walk to the sewing room for a final cup of tea. All the teachers came and we cut the second chocolate cake I had brought. Induji translated as one of the teachers said we will miss you, Jake in Hindi. I looked down and said, “I don’t want to go.” But wants don’t always match up with needs and soon after I was in the car back to my apartment.

            This worst part of this whole thing was it was only the beginning. Seeing how hard this first goodbye was I dreaded the coming ones. Here in India not only had I fallen in love with the children and the country, but I had also made friends and in those friends I had made a best friend.

            Heather and I never left each other’s side in our free time here and this last day with her was no different. We ate, went to the movies, ate again, packed, watched TV, and ate again never once standing more then an arms length away from each other. As you can see we did a lot of eating, it’s what we have come to know as stress eating.

            We went to bed late and woke up early to have as much time as possible together, but like Pappankalan eventually I had to leave. The Ganesh gift was quickly matched as Heather handed me one of her bracelets that they made after her fiancée’s death. To have something to not only remember her by, but also to remember the preciousness of life and the power of love is the greatest gift anyone could ever ask for. I made her promise to text me the second she got home and we both vowed to go on at least on trip a year together.

            So with Daniel’s journal, Induju’s Ganesh, and Heather’s bracelet I prepare for my final goodbye. Not yet though, first I must see a little more of this country I love. So until Wednesday I will be nestled in the mountains in a place known for its tea. Darjeeling will be my last look at India and I couldn’t be more excited.

         —I am sorry I can’t add photos; my computer is tucked away in my packed bags. I will update this and the coming blog when I return in a week—