When what used to be your home is destroyed by the rising waters, nothing can ever be “normal” again. The residents of Chiplun, one of the places in Maharashtra that drowned in July, can never forget those days.
Yes, help arrived soon. To feed, clothe and rebuild. But how do you rebuild your mind? Especially when you are a teacher who is responsible for shaping minds and lives?
That was the prime motivation for Vaijayanti Thakar, always ready to help others cope and heal, to conduct a workshop for a group of teachers on August 26, 2021.
What follows is based on the information and emotions shared by her.
Bundles of joy and sorrow
Some of the teachers had already resumed work. Some were visiting children at home. They were all making a good effort to be normal. They were all dressed well—in clothes that were borrowed or had been donated.
We started with a prayer to the Sun. “Please rise again every day.” It was a plea. It was an expression of hope.
After they had settled down, I began with a story.
There were two women in a village. Both faced similar situations. Violent, alcoholic husband, not much to eat. Yet, one was always sullen while the other was happy. The sullen one could not stand it any longer. “Why?” she asked the other. After everyone goes to sleep, the happy one said, I sit before the idol and pray that everyone should be happy.
The sullen one tried the same thing, nothing seemed to happen. Then the sullen one had a dream. She was walking towards a light coming from far. She reached a cave that had several bundles. And a beautiful woman sitting on a throne. She was the source of the light.
“I am the servant who looks after these bundles of joy and sorrow,” the one who looked like a princess said. The sullen woman opened her bundles. There was hardly any joy. But the other woman, her bundle of joy was so heavy. What was the difference?
They both had had similar experiences. They were both unwanted children because they were girls. Yet the other was happy with her mother’s love whenever she was held close and fed. Yes, her father would beat her. But she remembered the times he would hold her close. The clothes she got occasionally were all old and torn but she was happy to get clothes. She loved the moments she spent with her children.
Story over, I requested all of them to congratulate themselves. You have suffered so much, yet you have emerged strong, ready to teach again.
It was time for the “trust walk”. I requested them to choose a partner who was a relative stranger. One would be blindfolded and had to totally trust the partner to lead her right.
The floods too had presented a situation where they quickly realized whom they could trust. Calamity or not, we must learn to trust. And we have to teach our children, our families to trust, to help one another.
Then I invited each to share her feelings. There was anger, there were tears. I let it all flow, without interruption.
“I … my child … no. I can’t speak.” One of the other teachers filled in for her. “She has a six-month old child. When her building got flooded, she picked up her child and went up to the terrace. It was impossible to go back down the stairs. The terrace did not have a parapet. There was a tin roof which was somehow holding up against the howling wind and lashing rain. She held the child close to her chest and stood there in the dark for 28 hours.”
Another teacher said, “All of us had moved up to the upper floor but the water kept rising. We decided to abandon our house. We used a ladder and went to the adjoining house. There were about eight of us, including children. Then we all went to the terrace of that house. We could see various things floating away but we were numb. Our only thought was that we had managed to save ourselves. There we stood for more than 24 hours.”
For another, it was time to realize what really mattered when everything was at stake. She took her jewellery and money and put it on the floor above. Then she decided to move some grains and, like a true teacher, some books also. Then it occurred to her that her life was more precious. Everything else could be earned or bought again. She was happy to get out of it alive. But the next time?
Get it all out
I asked them to write down all their thoughts, their fears. To let their anger flow. Forget you are teachers and supposed to be role models. Use the worst swear words you know. This is for yourself.
At the end of it, we collected all the pages they had written in and set those on fire.
Then they were given pillows. I encouraged them to hit the pillows. Let all the anger come out, transfer the pain to the pillows. There were giggles to start with and just light taps on the pillows. Soon, the mood changed. There were tears, screams. Some just could not continue.
We ended with a meditation session. Soothing, calming and, hopefully, rejuvenating.
There was a lot more to do. But, right now, it was time for a fresh start.
The sun will rise again. We must too.
Vaijayanti Thakar may be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org