As it turns out, Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer weren't the only ones to attend their own funeral.
I felt the same way when all the children, along with teaching staff and other stray employees, gathered in the dining hall to wish me farewell. It's not every day that 250 people assemble to send you on your way.
It was, hands down, the most overwhelming experience of my life. The teachers and a few students gave what sounded like eulogies. And everyone watched me cry. That's all that I remember, besides feeling the urgent desire to be someplace else, anywhere else. I don't relish being the center of attention even on a good day. It helped to pretend that I was, in fact, somewhere else and that the person they were highlighting was someone I knew but not me.
I kept thinking that I most likely wouldn't be seeing the children again. We had been together for nearly two and a half years. I wondered what life held for them.
It's taken me a month to face these pictures again. Here we go, the first half. I had handed Deepenraj, a 9th-standard student, my camera and hoped for the best.
Leading me to the slaughter.
Kala, as always, brought me her sari that morning and wrapped it for me.
Jasmine flowers, the most common Indian hair ornament. The petals are all painstakingly sewn together. They put in a great deal of effort even for such ephemeral accessories.
Vadivu, kind and dear, the warden and part-time teacher.
There was also a cake, which added a macabre wedding element to the funerary (and as you'll see in part 2, several of the women suddenly started feeding me pieces after they'd made me cut it).
10th-standard student Manodaya, true to form, wrote a polished essay
Rajakumari, who teaches math and science
Uvaraj, the Tamil teacher, gave a long speech in Tamil. Not sure what he said other than something about me working like an ant
8th-standard students designed a poster
I felt the same way when all the children, along with teaching staff and other stray employees, gathered in the dining hall to wish me farewell. It's not every day that 250 people assemble to send you on your way.
It was, hands down, the most overwhelming experience of my life. The teachers and a few students gave what sounded like eulogies. And everyone watched me cry. That's all that I remember, besides feeling the urgent desire to be someplace else, anywhere else. I don't relish being the center of attention even on a good day. It helped to pretend that I was, in fact, somewhere else and that the person they were highlighting was someone I knew but not me.
I kept thinking that I most likely wouldn't be seeing the children again. We had been together for nearly two and a half years. I wondered what life held for them.
It's taken me a month to face these pictures again. Here we go, the first half. I had handed Deepenraj, a 9th-standard student, my camera and hoped for the best.
Leading me to the slaughter.
Kala, as always, brought me her sari that morning and wrapped it for me.
Jasmine flowers, the most common Indian hair ornament. The petals are all painstakingly sewn together. They put in a great deal of effort even for such ephemeral accessories.
Vadivu, kind and dear, the warden and part-time teacher.
There was also a cake, which added a macabre wedding element to the funerary (and as you'll see in part 2, several of the women suddenly started feeding me pieces after they'd made me cut it).
10th-standard student Manodaya, true to form, wrote a polished essay
Rajakumari, who teaches math and science
Uvaraj, the Tamil teacher, gave a long speech in Tamil. Not sure what he said other than something about me working like an ant
8th-standard students designed a poster
Celina, we know it is not at all funny, but the way you write about it, we couldn't help but laugh at parts. The photos certainly show a subdued crowd. Your departure must have been incredibly taxing also for them. The macabre wedding element brought to mind Lady Haversham's parlor. No doubt this is not always true, but the Indian people in the photos always look so elegant, gracious, and self-effaced.
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