Let Me Tell You About Dev

Dear friend,


I realize I have not written in several days. My first week in India was one in which I had difficulty finding a sensible routine. My days consisted of going to sleep very late so as to speak to my friends in California and in New York City, waking up at seven in the morning, rushing to have breakfast before being picked up and taken to the school, then returning from my lessons completely exhausted, falling into deep, accidental naps each time, then waking up, taking care of a few important matters, having dinner, and repeating the cycle.

I have since repaired the way I manage my time and my days, so now, on this foggy Saturday afternoon, I am writing to tell you of everything I have wanted to tell you. I hope you can forgive me for my absence.

So, the thing is, I have so much to say that I do not really know where on earth to start. Perhaps I will begin by telling you of the school, and of the kids I am so lucky to know and spend time with.

Mondays through Fridays, I go to the school in the small village, a fifteen minute drive from where I am staying, and I teach from the hours of 9:30 in the morning until 12:30 in the afternoon. I realize three hours of work a day doesn't sound too strenuous, however...it is! The school is very loosely organized, so each day I walk through the blue iron door into the school I am met with a surprise, as some days I teach the eldest class, the sixteen year olds, and other days, I teach the eight year olds. Of course, I prepare a lesson plan for each day, but I can't teach the little ones the same thing I teach the teens! The younger ones are also wilder, and the classes are far greater in size, so I've yet found a way to capture their attention for the full time allotted to me with them. As there is no strict schedule at the school, some of my classes are twenty minutes long, whilst other classes are two hours long. Really, truly, every day I walk into the unknown. This is difficult as a teacher, but I don't want to speak so much about the teaching aspect of being at the school as much as I want to speak about some of the individual kids I've met.

Though of course I like all of my students, there are a few I have gotten to know quite well over the past couple of weeks, as they have been the most open with me; and I have become, unsurprisingly, quite attached to these kids.

There is one boy in particular, whom I will refer to as Dev, who has caught my attention. The first day I taught at the school, in each class, I stood in front of the black chalkboard, wrote my name, and told the kids they could ask me absolutely any question to which they desired the answer. Most of the kids asked me where I was from, how many brothers and sisters I have (the number of siblings one has is a very important subject here in India), the names of my mother and father, as well as of my step-father after I explained that my parents are divorced, and topics similar to these.

The first question Dev asked me is if I have a boyfriend. Of course, I laughed and told him I don't, and continued to answer a few more questions he and the others had for me. I knew then that Dev was funny and a bit cheeky, but what I couldn't have known from that first interaction was how intelligent and hopeful he is. I also couldn't have perceived the profound care I would develop for him. Since my first day, he has approached me often and spoken to me about his life, his dreams, and his reality. We speak after class, we speak during lunch, and I hope to speak to him as regularly in the remaining time I have here in India.

I consider Dev my friend, and as anyone who knows me well enough, if you are my friend, you are very important to me. I have suffered in the past from caring so much about certain people, but I know I don't live my life in the gray when it comes to emotions, and I've accepted this. What I can't seem to accept, however, is the idea of leaving here in five weeks and never helping Dev reach his full potential or achieve his dream.

In certain parts of India, girls, at the age of eighteen, and boys, at the age of twenty-one, will face marrying someone they do not know and do not love. In small, remote villages, kids marry at much younger ages. I'm completely fascinated with the idea of arranged marriage, as well as with what locals think of the system, and have learned a great deal since being here on how it works.

The funny thing is, at the moment, I don't believe in marriage, period. This is a position I have had for many months now, and maybe it will change in the future: maybe I'm just a sour, single girl who imagines her future with an impressive selection of cats and dogs so therefore doesn't think about the possibility of a husband because, you know, #foreveralone. No, I'm just kidding, I'm perfectly happy being single. But as of today, and as of yesterday, and the day before, and five months before that day, I have not believed in marriage, not because I have been affected by it in any negative way, but because I simply don't think one has to involve the law in love. I think there is something so utterly unromantic about signing a paper that legally binds one to the person signing with one. Suddenly one's relationship does not exist purely because one wants to be with one another, but now, since one's involved the government, one is OBLIGED to be with one another (a lot of "one's," I know). The idea, to me, seems a bit imprisoning, and it is no wonder many relationships falter during a marriage.

I also believe people are constantly changing. I see it in myself, I see it in my friends, in my family, in public figures, in everyone. I am not the same person I was a year ago; not by any means. And I know, when I am twenty-five, I will not be who I am now. At a perfect moment in time, two people might meet and feel as though they will be each other's exact match for the entirety of their lives but, really, they might find they individually grow to become someone else, and, as a result, grow apart. It's a natural progression, and one I expect, one I have lived and understood; but at least the previously "perfect" pair can say they, once, truly loved one another.

That's not the case here.

Here, parents will meet with another family, decide if their children are a successful match, and introduce the two just minutes before the ceremony that will declare them family. There is no love. There is no way of knowing if you will ever love your partner. There is no divorce system. There is only a pre-determined future.

Prior to arriving in India, I knew arranged marriage existed, and I understood what it meant; but when you paste an idea with a face that you now know and care about, the subject becomes far, far more personal.

I asked Dev what his dream is. He told me he wants to be properly educated, and he wants to visit Europe and the United States. He knows there is a world beyond Bodhgaya, and he desperately wants to see it and be a part of it. I desperately want to help him with this. My heart broke when he told me he knew he most likely never would visit a country outside of India because his family simply does not have the money, and by the time he will have money of his own, he will also have a wife and a family of his own to take care of, a fact he is not so enthused by; he knows this future is not too far from today.

I know I cannot save the world. I can do my part by recycling (people, RECYCLE), by being educated on what is going on in the world (my thoughts on the results of the election will be a separate post. I do not have a collected-enough mind at the moment to write anything other than a few swears and wet my keyboard with tears of despair while I do so), and perhaps by helping these kids with their English. I cannot change the world as a whole, but I want to offer a change in Dev's life. So much so that I simply can't stop thinking about it.

This being said, I don't want you to have the impression, after this very long post, that Dev is unhappy, or that anyone at the school, or even in town, for that matter, is unhappy. The kids' faces illuminate from the inside, and I have never stumbled upon a group of people more cheerful than the children at the school. Their smiles are wide, their eyes are kind, and their excitement for life is genuine. It is refreshing to see such natural joy, and I feel happier here, with them, than I have felt in a while.

I have learned a lot thus far in my short time in India, and I will express this newly-gained knowledge in various posts. This post has been a bit of a jumble of many different things, but my mind has been a bit of a jumble lately, and as I find ways to untangle my brain, I will write to you.

Until then, I hope you feel inspired to find the things in your life that matter the most to you. Do something for yourself today. Do something for someone else as well.

Also, recycle.


All the best,


Natalia