Experiment #25: His Story

It is impossible to look into the eyes of a starving man and eat without offering him to join you.

This idea was shared in a Wednesday meditation a few weeks ago. Human nature dictates that we will do what is in our power to minimize someone’s suffering, if we are aware of his story.

The latter part of that sentence is key. If we are aware of his story. But how often, do we assume that we know someone’s story – his background, his intention, his burdens – based only on a single snapshot of his life that we are exposed to?

Last week, I had the chance to sit with Bharatbhai, a mentor and coordinator for the children taking part in the EKATVA production, and learn about his own journey with Manav Sadhna.

Ten years ago, Bharatbhai took part in EKTA, the first international dance tour arranged by Manav Sadhna, that took fourteen children from the slums around the world. From EKTA, he realized a passion for dance. Today, he is simultaneously working toward his own goal of being a dancer, while sharing his passion with children in the slums.

Before this conversation, my impression of Bharatbhai has been built on superficial encounters and my own observation of how he interacts with his friends, his family and the children he works with.

I’ve noticed he is young at heart, sometimes lacking the maturity I would expect from a teacher. I’ve assumed he can be unreliable, based on his poor punctuality. And I’ve observed his sensitivity in moments of hurt and vulnerability.

But as we sat across from each other in the shade of Gandhi Ashram, my assumptions were thrown back in my face and my ignorance of who Bharatbhai really is, was revealed.

He told me about going to polish shoes with his elder brother as a young child. They could not afford shoes to protect their bare feet against the blistering pavement and dirt roads of Ahmedabad summers. In the mornings, they would dig through piles of rubbish in the slum and find discarded slippers, a mismatched pair for each of them. And in the evenings, before jumping on the bus to return home, they would kick off their secondhand slippers, later sprinting the length of road from the bus stop to their house upon their smarting soles.

He recalled what it was like to be in EKTA while his ailing father, bed-ridden after breaking his hip and suffering from tuberculosis, slowly faded into poorer and poorer health. Weeks before the production was scheduled to leave for America, Bharatbhai’s father passed away.

“That was a terrible day for all of us,” he says, pausing to swallow his tears.

Despite his anger and grief, Bharatbhai still travelled to the U.S., saying it was his father’s wish to see him visit that foreign land.

Now, nearly ten years later, Bharatbhai is experiencing a similarly heartbreaking parallel as EKATVA prepares to tour the globe. For the past months, his mother’s health has been deteriorating. He has watched as high blood pressure and diabetes have worn her down and filled their tiny home with worry.

“If something happens to Mummy, I don’t know what we will do,” he says, again choking up. “After Pappa died, she held us together.”

As the EKATVA journey is reaching a climax of preparation, his mind is always at home, anxious that he his helpless to relieve his mother’s illness.

I watched in silence as Bharatbhai fiddled with the ring on his pinky, trying to find the right words to continue.

In that moment, what I had perceived to be immaturity, re-appeared as an effort to relive a childhood heavy with sorrow. His lack of reliability was instead framed as the behavior of a man with many obligations, subtle but burdensome. And his sensitivity shined in a personality that had been forced to fight and watch things slip out of his grip.