I arrived back in India not too long ago and it’s been a fun and crazy carousel ride, even more so than usual since my two sisters, Sharada and Shanta, and my brother, Sat, were with me. We attended a family wedding in a village a couple of days travel from Dehradun and then continued on to visit several cities.
We checked in at the Ramada Inn in Varanasi, one of the oldest inhabited cities of the world, also known as the City of Light. I was with my siblings having a wonderful time, not really thinking about KHEL or the work that was most likely piling up back home. Hotels in India are working hard to cater to tourists, so the employees usually dressed in Western style clothes, speak English and tend to greet the guests with ‘Welcome’ or ‘Good afternoon’. I wasn’t surprised to see a professional young woman approaching me, dressed in a Ramada Inn blazer and pants. But I was surprised when, with a big smile on her face, she folded her hands in the traditional way of greeting and said, ‘Namaste, Mataji’. I realised that I recognised this young woman – after all, I’ve known her since she was a five year old little girl at KHEL’s school in Dehradun. I was overcome with emotion.