The village of Sundarpur was nestled like a hidden gem amidst the sprawling landscapes of rural Gujarat. Life here unfolded at a different rhythm, one that respected the earth’s natural cycles, the seasons, and the traditions passed down through generations. The village was not large, but its spirit and character were vast, as if the stories of its people and the land they lived on had accumulated over centuries.
In the heart of the village, the narrow, dusty lanes wound their way between simple, mud-brick homes, each one distinct in its way. Some had brightly painted walls adorned with hand-drawn rangoli, while others boasted verandas shaded by the leafy embrace of old banyan trees. Every home held its own little piece of the community’s spirit, and as one walked through these streets, the collective hum of life in Sundarpur was almost tangible.
Children’s laughter echoed through the village square as they played tag, racing through the streets barefoot, their small feet kicking up puffs of dust. In one corner of the square, a group of elderly men sat on low stools, sipping tea from small clay cups as they discussed village matters and the upcoming harvest. Nearby, women gathered in small groups, their colorful saris catching the sunlight, as they worked on embroidering cloth, or simply sharing the latest gossip.
It was in this setting that Ria found herself that summer. She had traveled to Sundarpur from the bustling city of Mumbai, seeking solace in the peaceful village life while also contributing in her own way. Ria was a soft-spoken, introverted woman in her late twenties. She wasn’t the type to make waves or draw attention to herself, but she possessed a quiet strength and deep compassion that shone through in her interactions with others, especially children.
Her passion for education had brought her here. After working in hospital settings as psychologist and working as social worker in Toronto. Ria had longed to do something more meaningful, something that would allow her to make a difference at a grassroots level. So when she learned about a volunteer program in her NGO in India that supported educational initiatives in rural Gujarat, she had jumped at the chance. The program involved conducting workshops for local children, many of whom had limited access to formal education. Ria was to help teach them basic skills—reading, writing, math, and creative expression—while also encouraging their natural curiosity and love for learning.
Ria’s workshop was set up under the broad canopy of a neem tree on the edge of the village square. The tree’s branches stretched wide, providing shade from the blazing afternoon sun, and its leaves whispered in the breeze, creating a calming atmosphere. Ria had laid out mats for the children to sit on, and she had brought with her a variety of supplies—books, pencils, paper, and crayons. As the children gathered around, their eager faces looking up at her with a mixture of excitement and shyness, Ria felt her heart swell with a sense of purpose.
She wasn’t an extrovert by any means, and the idea of speaking to a large group of people would have made her anxious in other circumstances. But with children, it was different. Their innocence and curiosity made her feel at ease, and she found herself slipping into the role of teacher with a natural grace.
“Okay, everyone,” she said gently, her voice carrying just enough to reach the little circle of children, “let’s start with a story. I want you to use your imagination and draw what you hear.”
The children listened intently as Ria began to tell them a simple but enchanting tale about a young girl who lived in a village much like Sundarpur, who one day discovered a hidden treasure deep in the forest. The treasure, however, wasn’t gold or jewels, but knowledge and wisdom, which the girl used to help her village flourish.
As Ria spoke, the children picked up their crayons and began to draw. Some sketched the girl from the story, others drew trees, birds, or the magical treasure chest. The scene was one of quiet concentration, punctuated only by the occasional giggle or whisper between friends.
