The Poor, the mutilated, and the old man.

Do you want to experience real India?
Those letters were printed in large bold writing across the top of a paper.
The paper offered an experienced to help the poorest people in the poorest state in India.
I didn't want to pass up the chance.
An hour after the ambulance was filled with supplies, the doctors and physiotherapist was on board, and we were off.
The trip into the 'country-side' took a lot longer that I expected. The condition of the roads were terrible and if we weren't dodging pot-holes we were dodging trucks, dogs, birds, or elephants.
After about 2 hours we pulled up to an abandoned building. It was actually a school by day, and as I was to learn, a hospital by afternoon.
After minutes of arriving there was already a large crowd of colorfully dressed woman and children crowded around the door. The doctors took their time dusting the place, arranging the desks and getting their supplies together. 10 minutes later the hospital was ready.
Apparently because of a lot of births happening in homes instead of the hospital a lot of children are affected with cerebral palsy About half the child patients we saw that day were there to get some sort of physiotherapy treatment. According the the doctors most of the patients were getting better. Other patients came in just to get medicine. There was hope in their eyes, and they seemed to be very grateful for the service. Of all the people nothing hit me harder than the old man.
He came into the room limping. His blog-shot eyes shone with friendliness. He sat down and waited patiently in line. When it came to him the doctor asked the normal questions. The man replied the normal answers. I'm sure it was the same every week. One side of his face was falling asleep, he had stomach problems and a hard time sleeping. The conversation at some time became tense. I'm not sure what happened but tears started to stream down the old mans weather burnt face. He took off his glasses and sniffled while he spoke. He had no wife, no friends, nobody to take care of him. He was having a hard time finding food to eat and then when he did find it he had a problem eating it. He looked over his shoulder to where I was staring at him and I had a chance to really look into his eyes.
I felt sadness, unfairness, pity, an aching deep inside me that lasted for a long time.
The only help I could offer on the whole trip was to put some sugar in some bottles. Like most short-term volunteer work its more for the volunteer than for the people. I could not make a difference that day, but the Roots Institute is. They are doing an amazing job and anyone interested in studying Buddhism, meditation, or donating some money should consider them.