Search
  • Morgan A Belveal

The Lotus of Delhi


There is a certain poetry to Delhi. The way the traffic moves, the way the sound of barking dogs ebbs and flows with the day, and the way people communicate and interact all ring poetry for me so far.

Arriving exactly one week ago, I was intimidated, anxious, afraid, and nervous. I knew that I would be working with my dream organization with projects that were seemingly tailored to my skills. But, to do so, I would have to work through so many new experiences. I would have to adapt my schemes for many human experiences I have lived my entire life.

The hospitality of my home and my office have been overwhelmingly supportive. At home, my door bell rings promptly ever morning at 8:30am and my hosts hands me a tray of delicious breakfast - sometimes traditional Indian food and other times an attempt at recreating a traditional American breakfast. Shortly after breakfast, my cab comes to take me to the office where I am greeted by a team of coworkers and smiling muppets decorating the 2nd floor work space.

As a team, we have thoughtfully crafted a scope of work for my time that will both expose me to the mission of the organization and employ my skills to promote the mission of the organization. So far I have sat on creative meetings to design television shows, met with experts in Autism and blindness to discuss ways to bring out programs to children of varying abilities, and researched the past present and future of the organization to support my production of a brochure that tells the history of the NGO. I am confident that by the time I leave this fun and furry organization I will have been exposed to each of the corners of its far reaching mission.

As I sit out on my balcony on the coolest night we have had in the past week, I am practically in the shadow of the stunningly illuminated Lotus Temple. The Lotus, a symbol of silver linings and beauty in ugly, has followed me through Delhi. My transportation troubles today serve as an excellent example. After struggling for an hour to find a cab to take me home, I finally found a cab that was able. My nearly defeated self slumped into the backseat of his car, smiled at him, and looked at my phone. Not long into the ride, I happened to look up at the driver and noticed something very peculiar. We did not speak the same language, but we happened to share the same skin condition that affects less than 1% of the population in the world. This commonality happens very rarely in my life. In fact, I can now think of only six people I have ever met with the same condition. This cab driver was a pleasant reminder in chaos and unfamiliarity that there are many similarities in the world, we just have to focus on them. He was my lotus.


69 views

© 2016 by Morgan Belveal. 

  • Twitter - Grey Circle
  • LinkedIn - Grey Circle