The First Goodbyes

We've finally reached our last stop - Hotel Singh Empire in Delhi, smooshed and stretching high on a bustling street. And finally a bit of Western luxury - soft beds, air conditioning, hot showers (though it's too hot for them anyway), and room service! Our group collectively decided that the hostel we stayed in when we first arrived would simply not be a proper send-off after our adventurous month. Today has been sleeping, strolling, and snacking - an in-between before we leave for the Taj Mahal at 2am! (Apparently sightseeing will be better in the morning; less tourists, less heat.)

Internet is limited here, so I'll recap in the next few entries.
Wednesday - our last day at school, and one of the purest. We sit down with our individual classes and do magic with needle and sky blue thread, sewing on missing buttons, mending rips, hemming pants. It's difficult to describe the wonder in each child's eyes as we fixed up their only school uniforms; I'm hoping that some of that sparkle remains in the photos I managed to capture in the precious minutes before we left. I didn't think 2 hours of teaching for ten days would affect me so much, but somewhere between gripping their little hands for the last time, saying goodbyes they couldn't quite comprehend, and our coordinator closing the classroom doors on so many anxious faces peeking out, the care and frustration and worry and love build and burst from my eyes in salty tears, and I had to walk back to the rickshaw all too quickly so that the children wouldn't see me crying.
We returned early so that everyone would have time to figure out the puzzle of re-packing suitcases. Being nearly a master at this I was ready in no time, so my friend Ran and I went to town for one last rooftop tea. The dark lemony taste lingers in our mouths as we reccount our firsts, favorites, and futures, me trying too hard to hold onto all the senses of the past month like the smell of spice and sweat in the streets or the way everything turns red at dusk.
But it's too soon before we're off, after a row of squeezing goodbyes. We hang on loosely to rickshaw sides, now accostomed to the sporadic speed and random bumps. We hang on to our bags as a chain of beggars infiltrates our cluster at the train station, though we escape to buy mango juice and cookies. And we hang on desperately to each other, faces and names staying illuminated in our minds through joking impressions and familiar stories, hanging on still in darkening train cars even as we run out of time together.

~christiana