Pongal festivities were in full swing when I arrived in Madurai in January. India has thousands of festivals and Pongal is an important one in Tamil Nadu. it is a harvest festival and I had read in the paper that it is similar to the American Thanksgiving because it is a time to give thanks and hope for a bountiful coming year. wherever I went in Madurai people would wish me “Happy Pongal!”
Just when I thought India had thrown me for a loop this third time around —
a stolen necklace in Chennai…
a four hour bus ride from Thanjavur to Madurai watching cheesy Tamil videos from the ’70s played at full blast, tissue stuffed in my ears all the way…
an Indian cop who wanted to take my swiss army knife I always carried when I tried to re-enter the Meenakshi Temple on one side when I was allowed to enter with it on the other side —
something wondrous happened. that’s what always happens to me in India — my best experiences are born from serendipity.
I had hooked up with a regular rickshaw driver for my stay in Madurai and we were driving through the slums along the river. somehow I always get drivers who know I am not afraid to go off the beaten path into the places that tourists usually don’t go.
We drove past a small school where I saw children in a doorway dressed in their dance clothes. the little girls were beautiful and I told the driver to turn around for a quick photo. of course, as soon as they saw me stop about 10 kids ran outside and surrounded me. some of the teachers came out to see what the commotion was. I saw a stage inside and a woman talking into a microphone. I apologized to the teachers, I said I did not mean to cause such a ruckus and disturb their show by taking a photo.
A male teacher came up to me and said “no problem, madam” and he invited me in to celebrate Pongal with them. he said they had planned a special celebration and it would be their honor if I came inside. I tried to beg off because I knew the commotion my presence would cause and I’m not one to have people fuss over me, but the children grabbed me and the teachers insisted. I had planned to sit in back and watch quietly, but I was led to the stage steps. I stopped and turned around and there had to be at least 100 kids sitting on the floor, all eyes glued to me, big smiles on their faces. I was stunned, and I kept shaking my head no, but the teachers kept pushing and pulling me until I was given the guest of honor seat, between the principal and the head mistress. I felt like a rock star.
The teachers asked where I was from and what I did. they introduced me, telling the children that I had come all the way from America for them, then they asked me to get up and say a few words. I was still in shock so I mumbled something about “stay in school and get a good education” and that got a huge round of applause.
it is the Pongal custom to boil a pot of rice and when the rice boils over the sides, that signifies a fruitful coming year. as the Pongal pot of rice was boiling, the teachers presented me with a Pongal gift — a towel that they draped over my shoulders. the price tag was still attached and it said 20 rupees which is about 50 cents, but to me it was priceless.
as the children danced on stage the teachers told me that these were slum children, that the school gets money from the government to educate them. there are about 600 kids in the school and they are taught English, computers, reading, and math, among other subjects. one of the teachers took my camera and took pictures of the dancers for me. when he returned my camera I took the perfect Pongal picture — a picture of the pot just as the rice started to boil over. serendipity.
finally, the teachers wanted me to say some last words to the kids. by this time it was over an hour later and I was composed enough to say something intelligent. I spoke and it was translated into Tamil….
I told them that I had read in the paper that morning that Pongal is like the American Thanksgiving and I explained a little about what Thanksgiving meant, about giving thanks, having gratitude. after wishing them Happy Pongal, I told the children that their teachers teach from their hearts and to never take their education for granted. I told them that they were the future of India and with their education they could change the world, that they could be anything they wanted to be. I told them, “you are all Gandhis, never forget that.”
When I finished I saw some of the teachers dabbing their eyes and I thought about how some upper caste Indians would look down on these children and down on me for even being with them. I thought about how so many people in my white bread suburban community have no idea, or worse, don’t want to know, how the rest of the world lives. here I was in a slum school half-way around the world and I felt blessed to be with them. all things happen for a reason, there are no coincidences.
a teacher then told the kids how it was their privilege for the American yoga teacher to visit their school today. I said, no, it was MY privilege to be treated with such graciousness, a total stranger. The principal took my hand and said I was a gift from God for them…and that’s when I started to cry.
the principal and I walked off the stage as the Pongal lunch was being served to the children. we went into her office and she asked me to write in their guestbook so I wrote what I said at the end of the program, about changing the world. I was also given the special Pongal lunch, as was my driver, and the principal told me more about the school. before I left I gave her a donation and said she should use it for whatever they needed, food, books, anything. the principal told me she would make sure that each child got a pen, so I bought about 600 pens that day. you have to travel in india to know the significance of the question “one pen, madam?”, so when she told me she would buy pens I thought it was a very appropriate purchase.
the principal wrote the address of the school for me and told me I am always welcome to return. I told her that I had a beautiful time with them and that I would always remember them as long as I live. I got back outside and into the rickshaw as children and teachers came out to wave goodbye to me. the driver started his rickshaw and we left, and when I turned around about a block away they were still waving goodbye.
this is the India that cracks open my heart and makes me count the days until I can run back into her arms and lose myself all over again.
addthis_pub = ‘yogagal60510’;
12 thoughts on “"you are all Gandhis"”
wow…the more I read your blog, the more stories I read…the more I understand why it’s Mother India for you. What an incredibly wonderful visit. And how generous of you and of them. It certainly makes me believe that there are certain places we have to be at certain times….wow. >>~Adam
So beautiful, Linda. Thank you for sharing this incredible story. What a blessing for you (and for us, since we get to experience a little taste through you).>>And my rice always rice boils over the sides, so I guess all my years will be fruitful? Or it means I’m not such a great cook!
Unbelievable. What a wonderful, open heart you have.
nope. they had the open hearts. I was just passing by.
I think those children and teachers will always remember you as I’m sure you will them. Thank you for sharing this story with us. I will not forget it. You are 100% right about so many people in this country taking for granted what they have. I try to remember to love and appreciate all I have each day and teach my children the same. But stories like yours here are always good to help us remember.
My breath is taken away – and then restored with love- by this post.>>What an experience!
Linda,>>Amazing story about celebrating Pongal in Madurai. Your words describe how overwhelming and uplifting the experience was spending time with the poor kids. Asking the kids to “stay in school” was such an American cliche, and made me smile. Kidding aside, what you said is true, many of these poor kids cannot afford schooling and do drop out to work to help their families. This morning I somehow stumbled onto your blog while searching for some material on the beloved Tamil God, Murugan. I guess one of the Google searches hit on your blog entry about Thiruparankundram. Incidentally my family lived in Thiruparankundram and Madurai for many years when I was growing up. Like other kids, I then had scant interest in temples or Hinduism and found it unappealing to visit the Meenakshi temple or the Thiruparankundram temple, which was walking distance from our home. Any way, I went through most of your posts in a few hours and really liked it. You are one of the few who doesn’t bring up the heat and cows when writing about India. You somehow balance your respect and love for Indian traditions with the necessary irreverence making it honest and touching. Keep it up Linda.>>-Siva
there’s heat and cows in india? 😉>>thanks for reading, siva, glad you like….
p.s…..>>think I’ll use your last words as advertising for this blog, siva!>>thanks again for reading!
What a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing it!
Maybe it would be better if they were all Dr. Ambedkars instead of Gandhis
I couldn't think that fast….