Inclusion - A kaleidoscope of diversity

A new stage performance of George Orwell''s "Animal Farm" by Centre for Film and Drama (CFD) in collaboration with Snehadhara Foundation was performed at Rangashankara, Bangalore on 21st & 22nd October 2015. The 18 member cast of the play included  children from Snehadhara, a few children from other schools and a cast of theater artistes and adults from various walks of life.

What I saw at Rangashankara on the first show

I saw-

A palpable excitement in the Snehadhara family. A familial pride devoid of results or outcomes. Having been though the process with the children in many ways, there was a delight in their participation. And through the performance, a wonder at how each child maintained his/her own in the midst of an alien experience.

I saw-

The audience responding with joy and natural warmth. Of course the family members whether from the Centre or personal, carried their own emotions but others too seemed affected by the energy of the space that connected them to the performers. The patterns of the audience were a testimony to the fact that no special concessions were made to the performers as the usual annoying interruptions and cell phone usage continued to be a part of the occasion. There was curiosity, expectation, laughter, emotions generated by the flow of the play-all ensuing as always.

I saw-

The children, first the audience- some were curious-questions were asked (But why are the animals sad?), observations were made (Are all the children from the same school, do they have holidays too, Oh they are all different ages, why did she die twice?) yawns were not stifled (I am bored..) and hunger was proclaimed (its late, can we go to MacDonald's -we can’t go home and eat).

There were other children too, in the audience. They did not say much but they did absorb the sense of gravity required of them in the space. If they were disconcerted by the darkness, the play of lights, the loudness, the changes, they revealed little through their manner and voice. What went in, what would come out was irrelevant.  Untouched by expectations yet responding to the demeanor demanded by the space, and its energy. Where did it come from? And are we surprised? Should we be surprised? Can we take it in our stride; accept it as natural, truly within us, that extraordinary times will yield extraordinary results from everyone- equal or more equal alike? Where do these reserves of patience, calm, resonation of the space come from? There is no dictation  or engineering here….

And then I saw-

The artists. Their entries, their exits, their presence, their songs, their movements, how they allowed the space to dictate to them and humored that dictate with aplomb. How they bore the interminable wait in the wings, how they knew within themselves that this is what is required of me at this instance and I can do it without a sense of ‘cause’, ‘effect’, ‘should’,’must’, ‘have to’,. How just being in the flow guided their beings and despite staying immersed in their own selves they became an integral part of the whole montage.Weeks of labour, yet unattached to its result. No sense of ego or pride or performance to motivate or enhance the final presentation. Just to be in the moment, with awareness, an organic, innate feeling that this is somehow important to me, to the world around me.

And so…….

What needs to be challenged here? My beliefs of what I am capable of with the children or what they are capable of with or without me or what peaks can be scaled if I allow myself to look beyond use of words like ‘skills’ and ‘abilities’ so loosely? My attachments or detachments to the human experience in all that it is capable of and does not know it. My need to be ‘included’ in the wonderful world that is not governed by rules that we seem to understand and stand by. A world that is constantly telling me to dig deeper, yet step lightly.

“Inclusion is not integration

                        Not an adjective                     

It’s a noun

We can’t do a little of it

Either it is, or it isn’t

Its fair play, common sense, hard work

Elegantly simple

       Awesomely complex

Its not building an extra of

It is being in the one that is

A kaleidoscope of diversity

Bits of color, sound, shapes and sizes”

-Marsha Forest

A story transcends words the moment it is read or told.

Facilitator at Snehadhara, Shailaja Bedi shares her experience of travelling with a story....

To the story tellers

"You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows that they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift". - Erin Morgenstern


A story transcends words the moment it is read or told.

It envelops our hearts and minds and makes connections, creates awareness hitherto dormant and unrealized or even unvisited in a while.

Our mind brings in vivid visuals, predicts, analyses, evaluates,adds body to the content, memories kick in , past experiences are revisited, we reconnect with the joy  and wonder and curiosity that all this evokes in us. Then the heart speaks with the feelings and emotions that emerge from the twists and turns of the fates of our characters and their personalities and we are at once awestruck, sometimes laughing sometimes crying, anger, compassion, empathy, they all arise within us to complete the picture of the journey that the story takes. A connection is made, with the various aspects of the story and who we are. That connect resonates in each person involved in the telling or the listening of the tale.  We move beyond ourselves, when the ‘I’ becomes the ‘We’, goes unnoticed, as we are so immersed in the totality of the experience.

 ‘A boy and his drum’ took a journey quite its own into the realm of drama, songs, drum beats; each aspect infusing fresh energy that did not let the tale get stale for the audience and especially the storytellers who reinvented with each telling.Each narration provided it distinct flavors imbibed from the story teller, the listeners, the ambience of the space and the experience of repetition that deepened its essence.In a span of two weeks the simple story grew in proportion as it connected hundreds of minds in shared laughter, joy and creativity. Its tentative foray soon became a torrent of colour, music, gaiety and thorough enjoyment as each one of us rose from our own beds of imagination and connected with the larger vision to enable performances of unique ingenuity. And so the connections intensified.

That’s what its all about, the connect we make. The story is the medium. As the bond with the story grew it shaped our connect with the characters who resonate some aspect of our own being. The subsequent narrations extended this link to how we used the props, how we involved the audience, how we included each other in unplanned, impromptu renditions of the same story again and again and the energy did not flag. Because the connections had strengthened with each instance.
The drum beats reinforced our belief in the rhythm of life that, through these performances, brings us closer, lets us into the world of uncertainties and discomfort that we perceive in differences and allows us to integrate joyfully, oblivious to that which divides us.

As an observer of the whole process, I was fascinated by the dance of the personal stories that emerged in and around me. Right from the reading of the story that brought in mixed reactions, in the team, due to its apparent lack of complexity, to the repeated inventiveness of the performances, by the same team,  that kept the freshness alive. For me personally it was an exploration of the world of performance, accosting my inhibitions.

I saw the storytellers delve further into their own creative reserves, support each other, laugh sportingly at their own and each other’s goof ups and emerge with performances that were laced with these nuances.The audience, which comprised of our children, their loved ones and their communities as well as other children for whom this was a novel experience, seemed to reach within to echo the compassion that such occasions elicit.


Not only were we connected to each other, to the story and its characters but mainly to our own core, our own patterns that were revealed to us in the universal message conveyed by the story. As Brandon Sanderson has said “The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think upon.” 

From the land of metaphors

Painting is silent poetry and poetry is a painting that speaks

Dance is rhythmical poetry and poetry is dance in motion

Seeking is searching poetry and poetry is seeking that helps find

Dreaming is poetry and poetry is that dream of the unknown

Being is feeling poetry and poetry is that feeling of being.

I seem to be in a mystical land this morning that was inhabited by words, language, metaphors, sharing’s, expectations, childhood, aspirations, strangers, known and the unknown. A ‘poetry circle’ that got created as each one came up with their feelings and emotions tuned to poetic expression. I realised this magical land is where I do live in most times.

Each shared what was close to their heart and what was amazing was that though the sharing was different we were all close to that same heart. I have often felt that words never capture the essence of what one feels, there are so many more dimensions to an experience. Words  have always seemed  to convey the known.  Yet poetry as an art form transported us into that realm of the unknown gently.

They were poems written by some of us, a nazm or a song that was dear to some of us, a poem that we grew up listening to.  The canvas that we created together had butterflies flitting with myriad colours, musing flowers, feet in our shoes, the wind, dreams, love, ceased boundaries. What we experienced seemed to be a universal language which the heart holds with nature and itself.

किसी पागल कवि की कल्पना हो तुम  

खुद को भूल जाऊँ मैं , वो नशा हो तुम

अब होश आये न कभी , थो बेहतर होगा

सपना ही सही , मेरा अपना हो तुम।

I see that the air has no boundaries,

but the storm that stirs has its boundaries,

How could I use the boundaries of the storm stirred in my life,

to go beyond the boundaries it creates.

From this land where I think I belong, adding to  Jaime Gil de Biedma  “All this while although I believed that I may have  wanted to be a poet, looks like deep down as I feel this moment, I think I just want to be a poem”.

                                                                                                                           Gitanjali Sarangan

Growing Down

Facilitator at Snehadhara, Lakshmi Karunakaran talks about her journey of working with children and how she has learnt the most powerful lessons from the children she works with.

I have resisted the urge to work with children for a long time. Children had no place in the corporate world that I belonged to, of deliverables and deadlines, clients and boardroom meetings. But two years ago, I left the corporate world to work with children. 

To concerned family members and friends, I had nothing more than ‘that is what my gut says’ as ‘logical explanation’. That I guess, was my first step backwards…towards becoming ‘childish’.While for the rest of the adult world, ‘childish’ was a term for irrational behaviour, and illogical thinking, for me, it was something I wanted to be. Soon I realised that the reason I was drawn to working with children was to get in touch with, and nourish the child in me, who in many ways was arrested in growth.  

Shortly after I left the corporates, I moved to a small village in Kolar, and took a year off to live in a village and work with Government schools. I realised that the children in rural India might seem deprived to a privileged urban youngster, but they have strong instincts and an earnestness that none of the city dwellers can match. Over the last two years, I have worked with varied population of children, from government schools and slums, children with special needs, and children with learning difficulties and disorders.

Children are the kindest teachers. They have held the clearest mirror in front of me. They have gently nudged me to understand my strengths and limitations, and helped me see them and myself differently. While each child I have come in contact with has deeply nourished me, I am reminded of a few who have taught me valuable lessons that I have taken back home. Some of the children are those I worked with at the Govt schools, the others are children at Snehadhara.

Dilip – One look of kindness is worth a million words.

Chitra- The violence that you see in your home and community, can never tear down the compassion in your heart.

Illias – Storytelling is a powerful transformational tool. 

Fatima – You can change the course of another’s life by just being yourself.

Ahan- Always seek clarity in everything that you do.

John – There is so much joy in drawing.

Naman – It’s OK to disagree, especially when you ‘know’ what you are talking about.

Nihal- The life force in you is powerful, and it will guide you. Gently.

Srujan - You don’t have to be old to be wise.

Naren – Life is a musical journey.

Arvind – There is immense joy in small things. 

Archana –The enthusiasm to learn is half the learning itself.

Each of these children, are now a part of me.  The valuable lessons they have taught me have become guiding forces for the work that I do with myself and the children that I will work with in the future. Those, who will help me in my journey backwards, of becoming a child again. 

Getting in Touch with the Child in Me

Recently, Aditi Neelakantan, an aspiring medical student, volunteered to work at Snehadhara. She mentioned early on that she had never worked with children and had doubts about how well she would do here. But she was keen that she tests it herself.  The next three months became transformational for not only the children she worked with, but also for Aditi herself. 

She writes about the times that she spent at Snehadhara, and how the children taught her lessons that books never could.

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‘Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.’I love this quote from The Little Prince; it is witty, funny and it acknowledges and celebrates the wonderful and incredible minds of children. It made me laugh, and then think.

Rewind. A little over three months ago, I was given the most amazing opportunity to change my life. And I took it, only that time I didn’t recognize it as the most amazing opportunity to change my life. 

My first day at Snehadhara Foundation. Ah, what a day that was! As I made my way into the building, I was a bundle of nerves; awkward, anxious but yes, anticipative. I had never really interacted with kids before. Then, during the usual morning Circle Time ritual, as I looked around me and tried to gauge how best I could boost my level of acceptance, a child came came right up and demanded to sit next to me. Well, not too bad a start.

As I made my way to class, I was assigned a wonderful child. He was a smarty! It was a grammar lesson, and this little man was done with his worksheets in minutes. He then took a few sheets of paper from me, and wrote down and drew with utmost concentration – as I later came to know were his objects of fascination – USHA fans and Omni vans!

As the day further progressed, I learnt a little more of him and a few of the other wonderful children at the school. It had been quite something, and I adored every single moment of it.I loved this place!

Out here at Snehadhara, education has a different meaning. It is rather a way of life, as it ought to be. I had the privilege of seeing Arts-Based Therapy live in action, and it was remarkable. There is something about watching children engage with Art, be it making vibrant splashes of colour across the paper or drumming to their own tunes on the djembe, that leaves you amazed. Art is magical, for it has the ability to break past invisible boundaries and form a powerful bond with a person’s inner self.

I also learnt a very important lesson about learning; while we can guide a child, it is essential not to overwhelm him/her with support, for this act, even though it is meant with the kindest of intentions, often does more harm than good. It can incapacitate their innate creativity and impulses. There is no greater satisfaction than seeing a child discover and learn something by himself. Experience indeed is the best teacher.

Coming back to my rather dramatic opening, I claim this place changed my life. 

How?  During my time here, I have evolved. These children taught me how to shed my inhibitions, something we all desperately need to learn how to do. It is liberating to let go. 

I am not a singer. Not at all. And yet, everyday for almost three months, I sang. Out loud, on replay. I had to, to get a child to eat her ‘yellow’ dosa.  

I am an introvert. Public speaking scares the living daylights out of me. But, when I’m in class, speech is inevitable. It wasn’t exactly eloquence, but I learnt how to express myself OUT LOUD to a roomful of people. These kids provided me with a fresh perspective on things; life is so much beyond what it seems.I have a long way to go, of course. But, if at the end of a rather hard and frustrating day, you still have a little child run towards you and give you a hug, well, maybe things aren’t all that hard and frustrating after all.   

The Little Prince was right. These children provided me with a fresh perspective on things; life is so much beyond academia, getting into college and getting a good job. Helping people is much more fulfilling and time well spent. I have received more than I could have ever imagined from this experience; it has opened me up to an array of opportunities and possibilities.