My friend Katherine is living in India, working on a book. She invited me to collaborate with her on a project.
She had come to know and love a number of the children living in a slum near the Mumbai airport and wanted to start an English class for them. This was to be a very select group of young people, and so she wanted someone special to teach the class, someone from the outside. (Akshay is standing in the slum; in the distance you can see the Intercontinental Hotel. Please double click the photos).
I had the time, a “free” airline ticket, and a love for projects like this one. I packed my bags and went to Mumbai. For a few days, I was to be The Special English Teacher.
The selection criteria were strict for the classes. No student who was presently in school would be allowed in. Preference would be given to special cases—students with great potential and who had shown courage and ingenuity in surviving the slum.
She sought out as well children who suffered with those special living circumstances that would only add to the quality of the class.
For instance, she invited Akash (second from the right), the 
most untouchable of all of the children, a boy who lived amidst the reeking garbage. If Akash were to be included, then all those who were invited would know that there was indeed a place for them. It turns out that he was the first child that I met. When I held out my hand in greeting, he watched, confused. It seems that no one greets him, ever. We shook hands and at that, all those standing around took a step backwards. At that time, I didn’t know that he was the garbage child. And for that moment, he wasn’t. He was a new student. This young boy brought to our class what has become a rare quality in these days in which robbery has become an art form for the wealthiest of our planet. Akash, the most desperate of the desperate poor, will not steal.
The class met daily, for four hours, in a room that was six feet wide and ten feet long, windowless, although we did have electricity, a ceiling fan, a stool for the Special English Teacher, and a rug for the students to sit upon. (To the right, you can see two of the teens taking up most of the space).
Initially, it appears that no one in the neighborhood took the project seriously, just as no one took the children seriously. Our students were the unloved, the thieves, the unmanageable. The young people, themselves, however, were sincere. They came to learn.
Aardash came to class, although he was beaten by his mother for his troubles. She had enrolled him in another place, one that charged tuition, a “fake school.” He would show up for our class; she would send for him, beat him and send him to the other school. And he would come back to us. Aardash, at ten years of age, speaks four languages and seems to love to learn.
Neha and her brother Raja had recently arrived from Bihar, the poorest state in India. Their mother suffers from kidney disease and could get no treatment there, so she came to the city. She refuses to enroll them in classes, perhaps afraid that that someone might steal them. In this class, they begin to make friends; it is a short journey from our classroom to a regular school.
Puja is stunningly beautiful, and achingly vulnerable. She is deaf and mute; her mother had abandoned her and the family, her father works and is never home. Her sisters Sharda and Kalima don’t go to school. They stay at home to protect her. Some friends who heard of my trip sent some money; Katherine will see about enrolling her in a decent school for special needs children. 
Attish’s mother died, his father is a drunk. He was hit by a car and quit going to school. He has taken the lovely Puja under his wing, and has learned to communicate with her by sign language. With each class, he stands taller. He is loved by those girls, a true big brother.
They are children, with children’s proclivity for play and their need for affection. But these are very poor children, which means that they work, that they must work. In some cases, their parents push them to this, but in most cases, it is the kids’ own hunger that drives them into the garbage dump to search for something to sell.
Rajan, with beautiful dark skin and hair and eyes does a ten hour shift at a
factory that makes skin “lightening” products. He is a tough kid and hangs out with the gangsters. But he comes to English class, after work and despite the temptation to run with his buddies. He is a testament to the noble hunger of the mind. He needs to learn, just as much as he needs to eat.
Sunil is the boy in the blue shirt. You can see his gang buddies in the doorway. They are watching as he takes the day's exam.
Sunil is a thief. It seems that this is his job, although not his character. He and his twelve year old sister Sunnita live next to a pig sty, and suffer from rat bite, and worms, and other miseries that would bring me to my knees. From time to time she wanders off from their shack, and he worries about her, as he is brother and father and mother to this child. At the same time, he is a bright young man, and a leader and the other teens in the neighborhood seek him out. Sunil is 15 going on 60 and has a wise man’s wry sense of humor. He will get high, though, sniffing glue or white-out. Even so, he comes to class.
These are lovely ones; they are children. But these children are invisible—poor, hungry, troublemakers. Ignored. Amongst them is Vijay, the smallest child, the boy who is beaten up by every one, always. I call his name, “Vijay!” and he doesn’t respond until I put my hand on his shoulder. Katherine says this is because no one has ever called him by name before. He becomes quite the student. The small amount of attention lights him up. His smile is worth more than I can calculate.
The beginning English course came to an end and the Special English Teacher returned to America. Katherine is negotiating for another classroom and now has something to pressure the parents to get their children into school (“They passed the course!”).
What began as a project ended as a blessing—something that opens us up into the future, gives hope, inspires faith, and calls forth generous love. Not bad for a group of invisible slum kids from India.
