A Return to Sewa Mandir - Elizabeth Horsefield

Going back to Sewa Mandir three years after finishing a five month placement there, I was excited. Having studied my photos, contemplated the fates of each child, and planned to return for so long, it was hard to believe I’d actually made it back to Indore. The smells, the noises, the everyday feel of the place were so familiar. It was good to be here. I arrived at the school on the back of a friend’s motorbike. Mr Jain, the headmaster greeted us with a warm and cheerful “Namaste,” On first appearance the school hadn’t changed much. Gandhi hung sedately in his old frame, and the black and white Hindi figures marked the passing days on the calendar. It was the first signs of the children that opened my eyes to changes that had taken place. I had anticipated that the children might have grown, but seeing the smiling and seemingly older and wiser faces of some of the deaf class that Ruth and I had taught three years earlier, I couldn’t help exclaiming over and over. Appearing around the corner one after another, they gestured proudly to me how much taller they were since I had last seen them. Our guided tour revealed that the school itself had changed considerably. The first floor now held a large, bright, freshly painted meeting hall, complete with roof (previously absent), a stage, and batik paintings depicting scenes from Hindu mythology framing its walls. In another room Rahul, a former blind pupil now attending mainstream school but returning to Sewa Mandir in the afternoons, played on an immense electronic keyboard, while Ayush, another blind student new since I had left, accompanied its melody on a large and modern looking tabla. The bare room of my memories was now fully adorned with art work, photographs, trophies and newspaper articles. Photos pinned up in the entrance hall showed the beaming faces of recent DiA volunteers, dressed smartly in salvar kameez. I was the third former volunteer to return to Sewa Mandir. I met the most recent volunteer, staying on after his placement ended. We talked about how the school had progressed, and what volunteers can do there has also changed. But how much were these impressive material developments to the school being reflected in the progress of its pupils? With improved facilities such as access to new computers, the deaf children, with the volunteers’ help, had produced some amazing art displays. Thus I became more aware of how a volunteer’s role should definitely be valued in its potential to provide new challenges for the children, to help diversify their activities, and to keep things as fresh as their renovated classroom surroundings. The children’s relaxed and open attitude towards me reminded me of how well adjusted they were to the flow of visitors to their school, not only volunteers but also social work placement students, reporters, staff friends and family, to name a few. Becoming close to volunteers, only for them to leave and be replaced by similarly initially disorientated Western faces appeared not to disrupt the children but rather contribute to their learning and general exposure to people outside of their immediate community. Often confident, patient, and always polite, the children at Sewa Mandir seemed to be as comfortable with their roles as ever. But what of the volunteers? As the school continues to evolve, so too can the role of its helpers, as they continue to bring different perspectives and ideas to this unique institution with much potential for the future. The blind pupils having sung the national anthem as usual, and the school rickshaws beginning to pull up at the gate, another afternoon was drawing to its close. I’d enjoyed myself, and asked Mr Jain if I could come back the following day. “Of course,” he replied, surprised that I had even asked. “This is your home.”