Well before I discovered India for myself, Mark Twain had taken his own journey around the world, and said that India was “the one land that ALL men desire to see, and having seen once, by even a glimpse, would not give that glimpse for the shows of all the rest of the globe combined.” I agree with him.
India. The world’s largest democracy. 1.2 billion people. Incredible diversity. Twenty-two major languages spoken, the most common being Hindi and English, and scores of dialects. An ancient history. The world’s two longest epics, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, originated there. The Mahabharata is eight times longer than the Iliad and the Odyssey combined, and contains a text that is well known in some circles in the western world – the Bhagavad Gita, which lays out a path for living spiritually while also being in the world. The majority of the world’s spices come from India. The fabrics woven and dyed in India are so beautiful that fashion houses around the world want them. The carpets made in Northern India are art objects, sometimes hung on walls rather than floors. The varieties of cuisine are aromatic, imaginative, and tantalizing.
I recently returned from a month-long trip to India. This journey marked my twenty-seventh pilgrimage to India to visit the place where my spiritual teacher, Meher Baba, had lived and worked. Part of my plan for this visit was to offer art therapy groups at a local orphanage and at a public high school in this part of rural India. The owner of Hulls Art Shop in downtown New Haven, Shawn Szirbik generously donated about fifteen pounds of art supplies which I managed to stuff into my suitcase.
The rural pathway to the Meher Baba Center.
About three months before my trip, I made contact, through a friend in Georgia, with the director of Pumpkin House Orphanage. It is located just a few kilometers down the road from the Avatar Meher Baba Center, where I stay during my pilgrimage time. Geographically, it is in west central India in the state of Maharashtra and requires a six hour road trip from Mumbai, formerly known as Bombay. The local language, Marati, is generally spoken along with Hindi and English. A six month stay there some years back gave me a slight orientation to the language because I volunteered in a medical clinic that served the poorest of the poor. At my current stage of life, my Marati language skills get mixed in with Hindi and English, and because many people have a working knowledge of English, communication is not difficult. The Indians with whom I interact are often amused by my efforts to speak some basic Marati and Hindi phrases. We laugh together and create friendships in spite of our language differences.
After I arrived, I made an appointment to meet with the head of the orphanage, a woman named Stella Manuel. On that first occasion I asked her what the needs of the children were. I found myself listening hard to what she thought I was there to do. None of it matched what I thought I was there to do. Her approach was structured around worksheets and drills to teach concepts, none of which I use with art therapy. In discussion, I mentioned some basic ideas inherent in the practice of art therapy, such as self-expression, creativity, and play.
Professor Evie Lindemann outside Pumpkin House Orphanage; “My rickshaw driver knew where to take me and soon we arrived at a sign that read “Pumpkin House for Children Trust” by a cyclone fence, with a green plastic tarp stretching across, and a securely locked entry point.”
I sat, puzzled, and reminded myself to practice what is called “beginners mind” in Zen meditation. It requires a willingness to know nothing, and to make no assumptions, and from that framework, something arises. It became clear that what she really wanted for her students was for them to learn things that would help them become successful in the world. She also mentioned that students had been working hard, and she thought that they also needed time to engage in something playful. As I aligned myself with both ideas, I proposed two art therapy projects that would both get the young-to-middle teenagers thinking about their future careers, and would also give them some playful experiences with the art materials. Stella and I then agreed on dates for me to return to the orphanage to carry out these two projects. I also trusted my basic conviction that art therapy needs to be experienced in order to be understood, and if I offered a group that focused on practical issues such as career paths and also encouraged creativity, that we would both get our basic needs met. I was right about that. We mapped out a plan in which I would work with an older group of teenagers first, and later with a younger group
Since the founding of Pumpkin House thirteen years ago, it has also evolved into a day school called Divine Grace School for 700 children who come from surrounding villages, and offers an education in English that is highly valued because English fluency is perceived as a skill that leads very directly to employment. I was told that the tuition per year for the poorest students was 700 rupees, or $10.00. This was a shockingly low sum of money to me. By U.S. standards this would be approximately three cafe lattes over the course of a week.
The children wear uniforms, receive visits from the local priest because the directors of the orphanage are Roman Catholic, and yet they also welcome children from various religious and spiritual backgrounds. The walls are covered with images from the Catholic faith. I saw images of Jesus, of the Virgin Mary, and of the Nativity scene. The outside of the building is understated.
On my first visit, when I arrived in a tuk-tuk rickshaw, I was unsure I had arrived at the proper place. A tuk-tuk rickshaw is a three wheeled vehicle that resembles a giant bumble bee with its black and yellow paint. They are used all over India. The tiny engine reminds me of a sewing machine motor, with a small tank for petrol (gasoline). My rickshaw driver knew where to take me and soon we arrived at a sign that read “Pumpkin House for Children Trust” by a cyclone fence, with a green plastic tarp stretching across, and a securely locked entry point. Several barking dogs ensured additional protection for the orphanage. Once the dogs were called off, a young man slid the fence open to let me in.
About the Author
Evie Lindemann is an Associate Professor in the Master of Arts in Art Therapy and Counseling Program at Albertus. Prior to her joining the faculty in 2007, she conducted research at the Yale School of Nursing on pediatric type 1 diabetes. She is a fifth generation Californian, a Marriage and Family Therapist, and a board certified art therapist. She is also a printmaking artist, and regularly exhibits her work at Open Studios in New Haven, CT each fall. She has worked with combat veterans, hospice patients, families, and students, all of whom have helped her to express the creative impulse inherent in being human.