Manavya

Community Interaction for Emily (US)

Masking my carsickness as we approached the gate, I threw smiles over everything and tried to appear genuinely thrilled to arrive at my CI, hoping the children would at least take pity on me, as their highly sophisticated truth-seeking technology effortlessly shattered feeble attempts to shield my insecurities. It's not their eyes that are so piercing, it's not the romanticized all knowing intensity and depth that you might expect: it's the matter-of-fact, one dimensional look they give you that plainly conveys "You're crazy if you think I don't know what you're up to". Usually I know better than to try and fool anyone under six, but I had been going to Manavya for the past 4 weeks, hoping for a rewarding emotional experience but only finding that rejection by a toddler still kind of hurts. As I got out of the van, one of the smallest boys raised his arms, suggesting I pick him up. Surprised, I did pick him up and he directed me around the courtyard, over piles of gravel, towards shiny objects. He led me to a switch on a wall and when I let him press it a loud bell rang out and two nearby dogs began barking. He looked at me with a mischievous smile, and finally, I knew I'd made a friend. Anakesh and I were best pals for weeks. We made up games together, and though neither of us had a clue as to what the other was saying, we carried long conversations that I'm sure were quite deep. By the end of the month I knew where every light switch and doorbell were and permanently had the "Pink Panther" theme song stuck in my head from endless games of exaggerated sneaking around. I was no longer worried the children would see through my act; now I was really smiling. I began to depend on his outstretched arms waiting for me every time I jumped out of the jeep, and looked forward to climbing gravel mountains and our light switch routine.

One week I was not greeted by him right away, so I wandered upstairs to see if he was in one of the rooms. I found him sick in bed, sweating with two striped sweaters and a Jungle Book knit cap. I had seen the sores on his arms and face before, and even stained one of my shirts with blood from his leg, but until this moment I had never understood fully that my new best-friend-under-5 had a disease that would most probably kill him before he reached my age. I sat with him, rubbing his back and singing a song I made up just for him, thinking about how much our relationship had grown to mean for me. The last time I went before summer vacation started, I was filled with sentimentality and worry, hoping he would stay happy and healthy until the fall.

Coming back for my second year I was unreasonably excited to see Anakesh again, envisioning how glad he would be to see me, his most mischievous friend. But when I arrived, his eyes glazed over me. He didn't want to be picked up or play spies, instead opting for board games and catch with the older boys. I was surprised by his actions, yes, but more surprised at how hurt I was that he had grown out of our relationship. My underlying egoistic assumptions had finally come to light as I realized I had needed him more than he had ever needed me.

Somehow though, this freed me. I realized that much of my previous insecurity had come from the worry that I didn't know how to do enough, that I wouldn't know how to make myself a meaningful part of their lives, and thus, that I would fail. Seeing that all I could control was how much I learned from the experience really helped me to lighten up and take more risks. I still give Anakesh a high-five every week, and I still remember the song I wrote him, It's just that now, I've figured out how to take what I can from the experience, be ok with whatever that is, and move on.

Bharatnatyam

Creation for Neta (Israel)

I joined Bharatnatayam in the beginning of my second year in MUWCI. After spending one year on campus and experiencing different aspects and features of Triveni and academics, I felt I knew the place slightly too well. I didn't feel I could experience anything new.

The collective image of Indian classical dance among my friends was one of closed cliques of Hindi speaking, conservative Indian girls, performing strange yet impressive, and very comical sets of frantic, over-expressive movements. Joining the activity was a highly amusing anecdote among my friends. On my part, the vastly positive factor of being the only guy in a group of ten girls combined with the fun-making potential was enough of a good reason to join the Indian classical dance activity.

From the first class I realized Indian classical dancing was not exactly what I had expected. The first thing that struck me was how physically challenging the practices were: dancing requires a very different flexibility, balance and physical strength than martial arts, rugby or acting. Joking around was not an option while trying to keep my balance in the correct 'sitting' position with my elbows kept up and a correct facial expression (which seemed very odd at that point), trying to follow the 'Tai-Hat-Tai-Hi-Tai-Hat-Tai-Hi' beat.

After learning to pronounce the word "Bharatnatayam", and practicing for a while I realized I was exploring an intriguing and demanding field of performance. The practices became the highlight of my week on campus. My experience with movement and martial arts helped me to relate to Bharatnatayam physically. My experience with performance made the infinitely expressive dimension of Bharatnatayam exhilarating for me. Without noticing, my commitment and passion to the dance and the group grew. As practices became more intense, I found myself developing meaningful relationships and caring for people who, before, were far from me socially.

Despite the academic and general pressure of the last term on campus, preparing the final Bharatnatyam performance with the group along with the preparations for the IB exams was tremendously central in my life. I cannot express how matchless and precious this experience was and still is for me as a performer, a student and a person.

Today, I'm a youth guide in an Arab-Jewish youth centre in Jaffa, Israel. I use art as a medium of communication, a space that provides legitimacy and a voice for human beings to express, protest and change realities. I use the basic Bharatnatyam skills I gained during my second year in many of the workshops I conduct with youth. Out of the innumerable experiences I went through during my two years in a UWC, the experience I just described is definitely one of the central meaningful impacts on the person I am today.

Back to the Triveni page