As part of our preparation for the India Immersion Programme, we were shown a TED Talk by Dr Brené Brown titled 'The Power of Vulnerability'. At the time I felt totally unable to understand her message, which was that to connect more with the world and the people we live with, we need to be prepared to be vulnerable. Vulnerability scared me as it would mean letting go of the tight control and privacy I had in my life. I have always liked to be in control of what happens, and to keep my feelings to myself, but as it turned out, spending a month in India didn't allow for either of those.
India really doesn't do 'control'. From the lack of road rules to the inescapable sound of the Muslim call to prayer and the overpowering smells of incense, human waste and petrol fumes, it was clear that in regards to being in control of my surroundings I would struggle. For the first three weeks of the trip I couldn't understand why sometimes it is important just to let go - to take off the watch, to stop thinking about the timing or safety of the next meal or activity, and to just live in the moment without a plan for the future.
The turning point for me was Christmas Day. Phoning home and hearing familiar voices set my mind at ease for the first time, only for my total outlook on life to be jolted a few hours later by a visit to the Mumbai slums. I could no longer control my reaction to what we were experiencing and I broke. The reality of the living conditions of millions of Indian slum-dwellers hit me. This was real life, this would go on, and on, and on, and at last I appreciated just how lucky I am. From that afternoon onwards I started to try and accept whatever came my way, to smile, and to simply say “ok, ok, ok” whenever someone asked me what might happen next. By the time I reached the end of my time in Goa, I had tried to make sure I didn't have to know what would happen every day, so that instead I could just appreciate the opportunities that came about from not being locked into a pre-conceived schedule. Back home now, I still like to have control and make plans, and it was almost a relief to get some sort of a routine again, but India taught me it is ok to let go sometimes.
I have no problem being honest with people and talking about topics I am passionate about, but very rarely do I feel comfortable telling people how I feel. I have always felt, and in all honestly do still sometimes feel, that sharing my innermost thoughts is a weakness; that I should be able to deal with my thoughts and emotions myself. However as Dr Brown says in one of her seminars, “Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren't always comfortable, but they're never a weakness.” India taught me that although New Zealanders may be very organised and ordered with infrastructure, politics and social welfare for example, we haven't yet understood that vulnerability, and the courage to display it, is a real strength. People we met in India throughout the trip opened up and expressed their raw emotions to us the whole time. They were not afraid to yell when they were angry, smile when they were happy, or bathe naked on the street when they couldn’t find anywhere else to wash. At Don Bosco Ashalayam in Kolkata, I was humbled by the children who insisted that we visit their homes and showed us such sincere kindness and hospitality.
The last thing that I want to acknowledge about my month in India is the group of people I travelled with. In India I had the chance to open up to 21 other Grammar boys and 3 teachers, some of whom I knew before, and some of whom I didn't. They all were the best part of the four weeks away. The hardest thing about returning to New Zealand has been the absence of not being able to knock on the door of a mate and ten minutes later be laughing, or crying, or trying to work out how to fix the world with someone who had seen what I had seen that day. I'll miss India, but what I value most came home with me.
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