Dal plants with little yellow buds cover the field out front. The terrain gradually slopes down to the buffalo watering hole. Goats bleat loudly nearby, at times screaming. Bicycles and motorcycles pass on the gravel road, loaded with up to four passengers. Children are seated on the rear of bikes, on mother’s laps or wedged between the handlebars and driver. A red tractor putters loudly down the dirt road loaded with sand and kicking up more as it passes. Flowing sari scarves trail behind bikes.
My bird’s eye view is from the top of the small two-story school building that is run by Sabita, the founder of the school. Life is never dull here, simple but not dull. Meals are cooked on a wood fire that is fueled by foraging dead branches from the mango trees that cover the school grounds. A friend informed me post-visit that mango wood is toxic to burn, let alone to use for cooking. Could it be more toxic than the kerosene we used on a previous visit? Is it a luxury to question the toxicity level of a necessity for living? Humbled with thoughts of my four-burner oven back home that ignites with a switch. Sabita would be amazed at such culinary technology. However, if she had such efficient instruments to her avail, she would just fill the saved time with more chores. Sabita believes that idleness is no good for the mind, body or soul.