A letter from me to you.
By Gaayathri

Hi,

 I know it's too late to write this, but I couldn't leave it unwritten. 

 I feel extremely proud to introduce myself as a Batch 4 Travel Fellow. I always believe nature takes care of me and gives me what I need. I want to take a moment to thank Preethi Akka from Payir Trust, Thenur, for sending me the application for the Travel Fellowship when I was completely confused about my next step in life. At the time, while applying, I had no hope of being selected, but I was chosen.

 I packed my belongings into my rucksack, named it “Mithra” (friend), and left Auroville for Sittilingi with no expectations, but full of curiosity and excitement to travel, mixed with sadness about the past and anxiety to meet new people and visit new places, as any introvert might feel.

 Sittilingi was a completely different world for me. Every person I met there made me wonder, how can someone be so humble and friendly? I even remember saying this in a group, with all the travel fellows and mentors present, during our orientation,

“I wish I had met professors like you during my college days.” To which Tha replied: 

“Since people nowadays have become so different, what is now considered kindness, humility, and friendliness has become a rare quality to find. It’s not like that; this is normal.” 

 Tha’s reply left me in awe, and I still think about how true her words were. 

 After starting my travels to rural and tribal villages in India, I initially felt bad for being so ignorant, especially as a doctor, for not knowing how healthcare functions in rural India. I met and was mentored by incredible individuals who paid attention to people in rural areas, who have been neglected by the government for many years. I had opportunities to interact with those who had decided to dedicate their time to these communities, live alongside them, and work for their well-being. I witnessed their dedication, hard work, and pure intentions.

This year has been a transformative journey - traveling, interacting with inspirations, witnessing different cultures, making friendships, and learning how important it is to sensitize doctors to healthcare in rural India. We all attend the best schools in towns or cities, but we rarely think about children who grow up in villages where schools hardly function. I see children playing on roads, working on farms, and migrating to other states at a young age to support their families. Meanwhile, we discuss the benefits of homeschooling. How ignorant are we as individuals?

 I had mixed experiences this year - both as a person and as a doctor. I had the opportunity to teach children in a tribal school in Odisha, learn farming in a tribal village in Wayanad, witness the struggles of individuals and families facing physical disabilities in Gujarat, observe Raj Sir and his health worker team in KC Patty, learn about rural obstetrics from Lindsay and her team of incredible women, and experience the rich culture of the Soliga tribes in BR Hills, where I tried documenting their tribal songs and learned their dance. I also observed amazing palliative care work in Thrissur with Dr. Divakaran, where I also found my writing mentor, Dr. Aravindakshan.

 I remember a question asked during my university exam in Community Medicine:

“Which area is sickle cell anemia most common?” I never imagined that I would be traveling to tribal areas and diagnosing and treating tribes with sickle cell anemia, when I answered that question.

 Similarly, during my final year of MBBS, I memorized the Pritchard regimen, wrote it in sticky notes and pasted it on my hostel wall. I never imagined I would witness an eclampsia case in a remote tribal village of Jharkhand, where trained tribal women handled the case with experience, knowing the correct dose of magnesium sulfate. I was deeply surprised by their knowledge and confidence.

 During a field visit to a tribal village in Odisha, I examined a two-month old baby brought in by her grandmother for a skin infection. I noticed the baby had severe tachypnea and a pansystolic murmur suggestive of a VSD. We requested her grandmother to bring her to a hospital for further investigation and treatment. That day, I truly understood the importance of doctors in the field making life-saving diagnoses.

 I met 16-year-old Rinku in a tribal village in Gujarat. She had Type 1 diabetes and chronic pancreatitis, and her parents were fed up with taking her to hospitals. They were unwilling to spend time or money on her treatment. She had recently lost her vision due to diabetic retinopathy and was struggling to find her way around, too weak to stand or walk. She was frail, with ulcers and discharge on both limbs. When I argued with her parents in broken Hindi (though I knew they only understand Gujarati), she didn’t speak a word. At one point, realizing my words weren’t changing anything, I held Rinku’s hand, struggling to control my tears, sat quietly next to her, and silently begged her forgiveness, because I couldn’t do anything for her at that moment. I don't know if she's alive today. 

 This is just one of the many people I met where I felt utterly helpless and wondered how so many people are unaware of these lives and situations. 

 I realised how blessed we are, yet we still complain about our lives.

I want to quote something I wrote after encountering a young child during my field visits: 

 “The look of this child, along with several others I’ve encountered, often keeps me awake at night. They pierce through my eyes, touch my soul, and pose countless questions to which I struggle to find answers. Without uttering a single word, they convey messages that resonate deeply within me.” 

They express: 

- “I eat only rice mixed with salt for most of my meals. You checked my eyes, told my grandma I’m anemic, and advised me to eat iron-rich food, but we can’t even afford vegetables or dal.” 

- “I lost my mother a few months ago. We don’t know why, as we had no hospital to take her to when she was bleeding heavily.” 

- “How can I attend school when my family migrates for six months every year, taking me along to work?” 

- “You visit theme parks and enjoy water games, while we walk miles to fetch drinking water.” 

They ask: 

- “My older sibling behaves strangely, and people say he’s afflicted by an evil spirit and has to be tied to a pole. I want to play with him like other children play with their siblings. Doesn’t he deserve good mental health?” 

- “We pay taxes even for a small packet of biscuits my father buys for me. So why are we denied our basic rights?” 

- “They say the tax we pay funds essential services like healthcare, education, roads, and bridges, yet we’ve never seen a railway station or dam. Why are we denied basic rights like education, healthcare, electricity, food, and even drinking water?” 

- “You smiled at me today, took a picture, waved goodbye, and expected me to wave back with a smile?

How can I didi?”

Today, I received Christmas wishes from the JCMB staff and also a sweet message from Apexa stating that my 8 year old friend named Sunny from Dangs, Gujarat with a disability recently got admission in a nearby village school. This made me write all of this.

 This Travel Fellowship has been a huge blessing to me at the right time in my life. It has not only given me experiences in healthcare but has made me more aware of the injustices around me. It has brought a huge transformation in my writing, taught me in the field, in communities, and hospitals, and even made me notice things around me and think about health determinants.

 Travel itself has played a major role in giving me unforgettable experiences and learnings. 

 From sensing the smell of expensive perfumes in airports to the smell of sweat in overcrowded government buses on peak summer days; from noticing fancy bags and costumes to seeing bananas overflowing in a cloth bag with the name of a local textile shop; from noticing varieties of shoes, slippers, and bare feet with non-healing ulcers, to sleeping in sophisticated rooms and on a railway platform among strangers, I have gained a mix of experiences, and I loved all of them.

 I was given accommodation in a local villager’s home in Wayanad, and now that grandma calls me at least once a week to check on me, even though neither of us is fluent in each other’s languages. It was then that I learned that language is not a barrier to making connections and friendships. 

 I started my journey as a caterpillar, and now I have wings colored with the states I’ve visited (just like the India map). I was once a melancholic person, but now I identify myself as a happy, young girl, thankful for all my blessings. 

 Though we form aerial roots wherever we go and work, THI is our root. THI is now a family to me. I would like to thank all my mentors, especially Anand, for constantly checking on me, showering me with motherly love, and being there whenever I needed someone to hold on to. 

I remember, during our orientation, we travel fellows were so curious about Ashitha’s binoculars, looking for birds. A year later, we look at ourselves as the birds. 

I don’t know how to end this, but I am grateful for the opportunities, experiences, learnings, connections, and friendships.

Love and gratitude, 

Gaayathri