Shoes!

Latest breakthrough in the football program journey, below is an edited email from Virenbhai that tells the story:

Our kids have been loving playing football every day for the last six months. However, most of them do not have shoes and play despite injuring their feet. Earlier Football Action came to the rescue and donated some equipment, but there weren't enough shoes for the growing throng of players. But right on cue, last week a 75-year-old named Mr. Bhallaji from LA walked into MS and was looking for a program to donate to. After showing little interest in project after project, he came across the kids playing soccer and was moved to help. We explained that these kids were passionate for the game but lacked shoes. Seeing their enthusiasm, right then and there he wrote a check to purchase shoes for each and every kid!

The joy and exited spirit of our 50 kids can only be felt by seeing it. Two hours into the tuition class after receiving the shoes, a couple of them told me that they could not focus on anything but that first kick with their new shoes at 5pm! It was a blessing to watch them play with these new shoes. Thank you and God bless you dear Bhallaji.

Muchos Gratitudos

Life is good right now. There are many reasons why, I wanted to note them down for the record.

I love the weather. Putting aside the legitimately frigid weekend I just experienced in Delhi, I am on cloud 9 with the coolness of wintertime in Ahmedabad. It's nice to feel cool air in a rickshaw, wear a jacket, keep the A/C off in the office, not break into a sweat after bathing, not break into a sweat while standing. In general it is so wonderful to feel the sensation of cold in India, it's so rarefied. I savor every moment as the relentlessly oppressive Heat looms.

I love my roomie. Nimesh is an incredibly inspiring person to me, and living with him is a gift that I cherish. For all of the outward impressions of a humble, grounded, pure-hearted, generous, and compassionate soul, it's only doubly and triply reinforced observing him on a behind-the-scenes mundane day-to-day basis. It's so many little things added up. He goes the extra mile with chores including watering the plants, washing dishes, cleaning common areas. All silently and humbly. One day while I was away, he cleaned out my room which was being used for storage and created an office for both of us to work comfortably in the living room. Another day he set up my mosquito net which subsequently allowed me to get the best night's sleep I had had in a while. He is always on point with his special pumpkin-cinnamon hot cocoa. He is an incredibly disciplined person, especially committed to simplified lifestyle. A couple weeks ago he ended his year-long resolution to not eat out at *any* restaurant. Why? Because it was something he relished and he wanted to master the impulse. We celebrated the ending by grubbing at Taco Fresco, the one and only Mexican restaurant in Ahmedabad (was good!). He has been hand-washing all of his clothes for at least the last year. It's really hardcore. Some time ago Nipun and I were talking about drinking alcohol, and I had mentioned that like with meat-eating, I was planning on letting my craving of alcohol naturally wither so that I don't have to force myself to give it up. I tend to favor a more organic approach where the craving/desire leaves on its own time. But Nipun said something interesting. He said that such attachments provide you an opportunity to cultivate self-restraint and self-discipline, which you can deposit in the bank of merits to serve as a source of mental strength for future life battles. It's an excellent point, and one that Nimo implicitly understands and embodies. His inner strength is inspirational. Buddy, thank you for being who you are.

I love my work. There's so many things to do all the time, it's very busy. But all the todos are worthwhile. I am not sleeping enough but the hours I'm awake are full of purpose and meaning. In the past month or so I've sat with some of the pioneers and superstars of development in Gujarat and beyond. It's a real blessing to learn from and work with people you genuinely admire. Recently Kapilbhai and I took a car together to Gandhinagar to meet with the head of Bhartiya Kisan Sangh ("Indian Farmer's Collective"). We discussed strategy for my meeting about how AD could serve them, and I paused to reflect with a smile, "Man, it doesn't get better than this." Talking about real-deal work we can do with a real-deal national-level organization with one of the most real-deal grassroots workers/thinkers/activists I have had the pleasure of knowing. I'm proud that this is my job.

I love my community. Being in contact with Manav Sadhna provides a richness to daily life that complements regular work in a perfect way. There is always something or other going on; a gathering at Seva Cafe, a volunteer visiting from this place, a group to interact with from that. Last month we hosted Teach for India, a powerful gathering where we heard stories from fellows who spent a day and a night in Ahmedabad with no wallet or cell phone, just Rs.50. Later we hosted Jagriti Yatra, a group of 450 social entrepreneurs. We broke them up into groups and had them interact with specific projects (each group had a name like 'compassion', 'oneness'; Jayeshbhai's group was called 'love'). Nimo and I facilitated one group and it was really wonderful sharing our journeys and about what made MS special. What a privilege to be interfacing and influencing and creating ripples with India's changemakers of tomorrow.

I love my soccer kids. There is an indescribable joy working with these kids. Their smiles, their energy, enthusiasm, their barrage of little hugs and "Neilsir!" greetings, and their effort in trying to get better at football. It is really genuine. Several weeks ago Sunday practice got delayed so we didn't have time for a match, which we usually do at the end. I had to leave, but the kids begged me to stay and ref for them. I couldn't, and as I walked away I saw them picking sides, setting up the goals, and getting started anyway. They were simply playing for themselves and for the love of the game. At that moment this project had past my ultimate test of value.

Working on the soccer program I have questioned why it took me so long to get into coaching soccer. It is a no-brainer, marrying two things I am deeply passionate about (football and mentoring).

Few weeks ago we took about 40 of the kids to IIM-A to have practice on their grass field. Proper pitch, no distractions, real grass, real goals, plenty of space. Despite the uphill battle in getting the kids through a rigid security checkpoint, it was a breathtaking experience. The kids warmed up and then for really the first time got to practice long balls and longer buildup play to goal. We set up two matches in parallel at the end. They were so into it, very competitive play. More than anything these kids excel at defense, so aggressive and fearless. It was such a beautiful thing to watch them going at it. After that session I silently resolved to bring a field like that to the Tekro. Virenbhai has mentioned that we can grow this to be a full-out sports program. A comprehensive project that is anchored by our own grounds, equipment, and funding for nutrition, coaches, and medical aid. Host sports leagues and training in football, basketball, volleyball. Nimo wants to bring in American football. Why not? Sky's the limit. There are so many important life values that real team sports (cricket is a pseudo team sport) teaches: teamwork, inclusiveness, trust, sportsmanship, patience. There is no reason that we shouldn't integrate sports more formally into MS' work.

There are so many possibilities, and they are all exciting and resonate with me. I'm grateful to be in a space, time, and mental/physical state that is unfolding a positive life momentum.

Guest is God

This weekend Ahmedabad celebrated the bright and energetic holiday called Uttarayan, the festival of kites. Everyone gets up on their roofs, blasts Bollywood music, eats Jalebi and Kachoris and Undhiyu, and flies kites. I was at Virenbhai's house where some MS volunteers gathered and Nimo brought some of the Ekatva girls to fly kites. I mostly watched; there wasn't much wind and thus not very conducive for a novice kite flyer. As it got dark people lit flying lanterns and the night sky was pierced with the mini balloons hovering higher and higher.

At night there were fireworks. One of Virenbhai's neighbors had arranged a spectacular show, which we enjoyed from our rooftop with a front-row view. Afterwards the group of us were appreciative of this neighbor and also curious about his house, which had a unique design. Virenbhai said it was a house designed not to have any right angles. It was rounded everywhere. The MS volunteers got interested and wanted to visit the house. Virenbhai shrugged, "Sure, why not?", and the next thing you know about 15 of us are walking around the block to visit Virenbhai's random neighbor at their house with no corners.

We get to the house, which had its own Uttarayan party in full effect. I'm not sure what exactly the expectation was in us all walking over. Did we really think this neighbor would let in a random group of international strangers to his home and give them an uninvited impromptu tour while busily entertaining his own guests? Well, that's exactly what happened.

By the time I walked up to the front gate, some of our group had already been let into the house, which had a strange egg-shaped entrance that made it seem like either a hobbit house from middle earth or a luxury cruise ship. For the next 15 minutes, we wandered around checking out the unique if not slightly tacky architecture of this pod-like home with no corners. And there were literally no corners, it was pretty nuts. Everything was curved where there would be a sharp edge. All the windows were round, the doors were arched, even the handles were spiral instead of straight. Apparently the family had appreciated a Bollywood actor's home and had gotten the architect to design theirs.

It was pretty amazing how this neighbor warmly welcomed us all in and just started proudly showing off his house. A bunch of intruders who had no pretense other than, "Hey you put on an awesome fireworks show, thanks! Can I come in and explore your weirdly shaped home?" He walked us around the living area and showed us all the bedrooms. We toured the kitchen, the jacuzzi bathroom, and the underground entertainment room. We even walked up to the balcony and were introduced to the actual guests as if we were VIPs. Then it got stepped up even further: he insisted that we stay for dinner. And I mean insisted! He said it was 'compulsory'. I couldn't fathom it. In what country do you let strangers into your home unannounced, and instead of politely taking their compliments you let them in and show them around, then treat them to dinner for their imposition? What planet?

So while the actual guests waited, we were served from a catered buffet-style continental dinner spread in the beautiful garden. Given we were a big group, possibly the size of the actual party, it was no small gesture for us to be fed from a catered service. During dinner we got to talking with the neighbor, who was very appreciative of Manav Sadhna's work once the volunteers explained it. We gave him some cards and books (including Gandhi autobiography) from MS and thanked him profusely. We invited him and his family to Seva Cafe, where we would be happy to have the opportunity to return the generosity and hospitality he had shown us. But of course here was a person who demonstrated he intuitively understood the concept without even being aware that it was a 'concept'.

In India there is a cultural custom that an unexpected guest is to be regarded as a gift at your doorstep. 'Atithi Devo Bhava', literally "Guest is God". For me this was an emphatic case of the custom come to vivid reality.

Labor of Love

Last week my advisor Scott and his partner Lera visited Ahmedabad as part of their tour of India. It was a long time coming, as Scott has supervised my research in India for 5 years but has never visited. I planned out their 3 days in Ahmedabad to maximize exposure to 3 things: Awaaz.De related people and places, historic and interesting sites in/around Ahmedabad, and the Manav Sadhna family. It worked out nicely, with their trip coinciding with a group of visitors from Teach for India coming through MS and bunch of activities including an Ekatva performance scheduled, and also a Wednesday meditation. Scott also met with DSC, which he got a big kick out of. And they had a chance to explore the old city and enjoy the company of Jagdipbhai and family at the Heritage House.

On the second day we took a rental and made a day trip towards Patan. We stopped off at the Adalaj Vav (step well), Modhera Sun Temple, and the Rani ki Vav. All were beyond expectation beautiful and worthwhile. I had all these childhood memories of boring road trips in Gujarat with my family where we'd take long car rides on crummy roads to boring temples. Maybe it's maturity or a cultivated appreciation, maybe its the crisp state expressways that now blanket the state, but I have never enjoyed a trip to an ancient site in Gujarat more than this trip. Made me feel a twinge of pride in Gujarat's cultural heritage to see the majesty of the temple and wow-invoking Vavs.

But the most underrated stop we made was at the Patan Patola Heritage shop of the Salvi brothers. Patola is a style of weaving that is intensely intricate. It entails a lengthy painstaking process of creating silk and cotton thread from scratch, then dieing it by stretching it out and tying small knots to block out colored portions. This is done one thread at a time. The design is already pre-set, so essentially they are projecting a final design onto each thread, a fraction of a millimeter at a time. This is all done by hand.

This is just to prepare the thread, weaving is a whole other process. They set up on a huge bamboo handloom that tilts down to one side. It takes two people to operate it. And they move forward, one thread-length at a time, shooting the thread in a bamboo shuttle width-wise to and fro, using the tilt of the loom to propel it. The design they had mapped onto each thread materializes as they weave all the thread tightly together.

Everything is done by hand. It takes a team of 4-5 people six months to make one sari in the Patola style. So they make about two pieces a year. They are very expensive and made-to-order. Typically they are sold to rich industrialists in Gujarat. The Salvis' masterpiece project, an elephant-adorned design with no repetition in the entire piece, took them three and a half years to make. One sari! Pieces of it sit in various museums around the world. One of the Salvi brothers proudly pointed out one certificate out of many adorning their wall. It was from the Smithsonian, which recognized the Salvis' as master craftsman and this workshop for its historically significant work.

The Salvi brothers are environmentally conscious. I was delighted to see some of the notices pinned in their workshop, it reminded my of my dad who writes similar reminders and posts them around our house. Especially the "think 100 times…" quote, that's straight out of Dad's playbook.

The result of the Patola process is beautiful, one-of-a-kind pieces. But what stood out for me visiting this workshop is how much care, attention, and commitment this family of weavers put into the craft. It is truly a labor of love. Being only one of two families still doing Patola in the traditional way, these brothers really carry themselves as stewards of this ancient, multi-hundred-year-old tradition. Only the eldest brother was married, the others have abstained from family life to hone the craft. They said they couldn't use computers because it would go against the tradition. "This is a human-powered computer," a brother said gesturing to the loaded loom. Just watching them work the loom, weaving in one thread at a time with exacting precision, two brothers working in perfectly timed movements (I theorized to Scott that only brothers could work with the ESP-level synchrony they displayed), it struck me that their level of devotion was beyond anything I had seen. Toiling away in this corner of Patan producing beautiful textiles that take months to complete by tedious manual labor, all for the preservation of their ancestral craft. They seemed to recognize that part of this preservation work is sharing it with others, so despite being interrupted from their daily work they took the steady flow of (mostly foreign) visitors in stride, explaining the entire process with the same care and attention that they had given us just ten minutes earlier.

Seeing the Salvi brothers got me thinking about a person's life's work. These guys were masters of a craft, but their work is largely invisible. It's strikingly different from Dr.V's family craft where they were serving millions of patients so there is a natural spotlight cast on their eye surgery prowess. The Salvi brothers serve two customers per year. But they didn't seem driven at all by recognition (though they relish it when it comes); rather by the tradition they were passed down. But what's the point? They are training the next generation of nephews who have shown some interest, but they are also engineers and doctors. Will they be able to train the next generation? One of the Salvi brothers told me the elephant masterpiece was re-created after 150 years. When I asked him who will re-create another piece 150 years from now, he dismissively laughed. This tradition will likely be gone by then.

I don't think the Salvi brothers are so bothered by this sad fact. I don't think they are even concerned about their legacy. Or money for that matter (one of the brothers told me they still farm to make ends meet). They are doing the work they were chosen to do, and care about doing it the right way, that's it. They have excelled at it, and whatever recognition they receive from that is enough to fill them. I was inspired by their detached dedication, and walked out of the workshop wondering whether I had it in me to work in the same way.

Infinite Inspiration

Recently I finished one of the most inspiring books I have ever read, Infinite Vision by Big Sis Pavi and Suchi. Reading the book now was very timely for me personally as I try to build an organization trying to bring about social change in India. But that's at the surface level. At a deeper level I learned about the nature and personality of a deeply spiritual person driven by the cause of human welfare. How he lived, how he thought, how he acted.

Aravind, in my mind, is the pinnacle of so-called social enterprise. It represents the heights an organization can achieve in terms of excellence, growth, and notoriety as it relentlessly pursues compassionate service to the poorest of the poor. The first few pages presented a bold and improbable claim: Aravind had worked out a model in which the more they went out of their way to serve the poorest of the poor, the better it was for business. Sounds like a parlor trick. How can you earn more by optimizing yourself to reach those who have no money?

My interpretation of the book's explanation is this: Aravind was driven to provide high-quality eye care at the cheapest possible cost to customers ($0). In that drive it had no choice but to find ways to make the costs of delivering that service as low as possible. The constraints demanded they get creative. The response: get less, do more. It engaged in two classes of radical innovation: process and technological. In a service traditionally requiring significant attention from highly skilled but low-supply personnel, it used the (in)famous McDonald's "hospital-as-a-factory" [18] process approach to substitute for the human touch. With the right recruiting and training in its paraprofessional program, they were able to retain the compassionate care ethos even with this switch. The devotion to process and systems thinking allowed surgeons to do massive volumes of high-quality surgeries, which drove down per-surgery costs (surgeons were paid a flat salary, fixed costs better amortized).

The second class of innovation was technological. In what I consider the masterstroke breakthrough of the Aravind Eye Care System, they brought the manufacturing of intraocular lenses (IOLs) to India, and using clever home-brewed methods brought the costs of those lenses down from $200 to $5. That was the fundamental building block for cheap cataract surgery. So simple in hindsight, but what a bold ballsy move at the time. This is the type of leap-ahead thinking that separated Dr.V from the rest in his field.

The cheap IOLs powered what I consider the engine underlying the serving-poorer-people-is-better-for-business model: they didn't sacrifice quality of service any step of the way. At the time surgery for cataracts using IOLs was the state-of-the-art, only it was considered unaffordable for developing countries. Aravind broke that mainstream thinking.

In the end they solved the market demand problem by providing a service that was so high-quality that even though they were driven to provide it to poor people, rich people couldn't help but seek it as well. And so with that demand-pull force and a pricing strategy that respected the choice (and therefore dignity) of each individual, they got the rich to cross-subsidize the costs for the poor.

This model is very compelling. Provide a service that everyone needs, and provide it with uncompromisingly high quality. Then get rich people to pay enough for it that you can provide it cheap to poor people. Aravind generated enough surplus through this model to bootstrap its own growth. There's nothing more natural and validating than an organization growing purely on the fruits of its own efforts. At Aravind's first hospital each subsequent floor was built only after it had enough money to pay for it. They literally grew the organization brick by brick. And grow it did, to an eye care ecosystem including hospitals, rural vision centers, eye camps, international management consultancy, post-grad medical training programs, manufacturing, research institute, over 30 million patients served, over 30 countries consulted, nearly $30 million in yearly revenue. And it remains a registered non-profit organization.

Aravind has deeply influenced my thinking about my own organization. Following its example, Awaaz.De aims to provide a service so good that organizations with money will be willing to pay for it, while making it affordable and accessible and appropriate for the underserved communities we are mission-driven to serve. I have made Infinite Vision required reading for all Awaaz.De employees. A copy sits in our office library. Aravind is a paragon, an inspiration for how to run a social enterprise with integrity and compassion and focus, and also financial sustainability.

Others who've read the book have also been inspired. Big John, a regular attendee of Wednesdays in Santa Clara, a lovely warm presence with deep wisdom, told me the book was also timely for the healing of the world at this particular point in history. While reading it, he told me how much awe he had for Pavi and Aravind and how he was on the 8th chapter but "didn't want it to end". Later I talked to Shariq who said he had started reading the book from the back because he was anxious to know how the story ends: how was Aravind affected by Dr.V's passing? As a researcher interested in the longevity and legacy of institutions and their values, this was the part of this rich tapestry story that he was most anxious to delve into.

The beauty of this story and the way Pavi has woven it together is that there is something in it for everybody. There were so many features, fun and touching little anecdotes, and quotes that I loved, especially ones that revealed the personality of Dr.V and the culture of Aravind. I've compiled a few below, maybe I'll keep adding to the list. I hope it gives a sense of the spirit of this book, and the people and organization it portrays.

• I have never read a book in which the cast of characters were presented in a family tree on the first page. I enjoyed the "meet the family" section, and that you had to constantly reference it while reading the book. As got into the story, the family members, particularly the founding team, grew into giant superheroes in my mind's eye. Each had their special powers. Dr.V the visionary, Natchiar the stern disciplinarian, leader, and accomplished surgeon, Thulsi the management czar, Srinivasan the resource and facilities genius, etc. They all had their gifts and came together and complemented each other like X-Men.
• Dr.V's understated way of giving praise: "Very good, very good" [250]. I hear him saying it and chuckle.
• I loved learning about the family dynamics, the challenges of transitioning leadership and culture through generations, the family/non-family ingroup/outgroup tensions, and how the younger generations related to and perceived the elders. Dr.V's New Age Group meetings were genius, a way to build solidarity and create "memories of caring that would outlast his lifetime" [249]
• Natchiar: "…The West talks about 'value addition'. I don't know that that means. When a nurse holds an elderly patient's hand and leads her where she needs to go- to me that is value addition." [96]
• Dr. V lives 3 minutes away from the hospital. He goes to his office every morning at 7am. He drives himself down the street, and being a cautious driver, honks most of the way [132]
• After Dr.V observed Natchiar berating a janitor: "Did you shout at his body or at his soul, Natchiar? Shout at his body. His soul belongs to God. If you shout at his soul, you are shouting at God." [138]
• Out of tens of thousands of journal entries, Dr.V rarely used a question mark. "As if framing the right question is itself an answer of sorts." [18]
• Dr.V was invited to Harvard University to give a talk titled, "Living a Spiritual Life in a Contemporary World." He wore an ill-fitted brown suit purchased from a thrift store.
• Dr. V's sandals. How he spears them with his walking stick to slip them on and off his gnarled toes; green and red rubberbands snapped onto the toe-holds to mark the two pairs he owns in order to avoid wearing either pair out too quickly. "A trivial detail loaded with his distinct personality: his utter lack of vanity, his frugality, his passion for order and discipline in the smallest details. He has built those qualities into his family and into Aravind." [57]
• Sweet and simple Dr.V quote on mentorship, the last phrase always makes me smile as I think of him saying it in his accent: "Just as you are training somebody for the Olympics, you train everybody every day. You coach him, guide him, and play with him. So you can develop him quickly as a top player." [103]
• Very interesting insight on the patience and egolessness required to build an organization like Aravind. Dr. Aravind: "You know, Dr. V built this place at the right time. He wasn't competing for anything at that stage in his career… you have to be completely out of the rat race to build an institution like this." [93]
• One of my all-time favorite Dr.V quotes, captured in the documentary (min 7:26) and spoken in his sweet, endearing, matter-of-fact way: "And I don't insist upon that that man must pay me before I do anything for him. I say, give him the sight man, let him give whatever he can give. If he cannot afford, doesn't matter, he can give later."

Supply Chain of Service

I randomly wandered into Manav Sadhna the other day and was treated to a remarkable story from Virenbhai. It had to do with the large number of boxes neatly stacked up next to where we sat, in a corner of the main MS hall. Inside the boxes was over a ton (3,200 lbs. to be exact) of top-of-the-line Helix school supplies from the U.S.: pencil sets, rulers, compasses, easels, art kits, sketch pads, paper cutters, scissors, stationery. Easily, it was thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. It's all going to be distributed, benefit, and be enjoyed by many hundreds of slum children in the area for a long time to come. How on earth did all of these amazing school supplies land here in the first place? The story is even better than the end result.

Few weeks ago Virenbhai was in Chicago, where he spends part of the year working (to earn his living; the other half of the year he's in Ahmedabad to volunteer full-time with Manav Sadhna). Out of the blue one evening he got a call from a young woman, Shilpa Patel. Shilpa works in the marketing department at a warehouse/distribution center in the Chicago area. She called Virenbhai to tell him that there is 5 skids full of brand new school supplies from Helix at one of her company's warehouses. By midnight, all of it would be removed, possibly just discarded away. But wouldn't it be wonderful if we could take and send the supplies to the kids at Manav Sadhna? Shilpa had volunteered there before, so she knew how joyful the kids would be royally and fully kitted out for back-to-school. She had even gotten the go-ahead from her bosses to let it happen, but they would have to clear everything out of the warehouse by midnight.

It was then 7pm. Virenbhai immediately springs into action. He sends an email out to a group of local volunteers, seeking on-call muscle to wrangle the stuff. Within a couple hours he's got a team of 6-7 loaders, and a truck borrowed/rented by one of the volunteers. They all meet at the warehouse and manage to pick up the supplies. But where to store it all? Virenbhai calls up his boss to ask permission to store the stuff at one of their company facilities. Generously, the boss says yes. He has long known of Virenbhai's involvement with MS and has been supportive in many ways. The next morning Virenbhai goes early to work to unload. A few of his co-workers volunteer to come help, and with shirts off they get to work. They are finished by punch-in time and head to work.

Next task was to pack up all of the supplies to have them ready for shipment to India. Virenbhai blasts out another call to the local troops to come for a packing party. It was short notice and right near the holidays, but sure enough 16 people infected with a spirit of service and love for hundreds of kids thousands of miles away show up. At the company facility one weekend, Virenbhai's boss arranges for tables, boxes, packing tape, and any other supplies needed for the team. The team works for five hours to sort, organize and pack up the supplies. Right on call, some local moms hear about the work and show up with all kinds of food: donuts, home-cooked bataka poha, the works. They weren't even asked, they just sprang into action. An entire station had to be set up on the side just for food.

After the boxes were readied Virenbhai arranged to have them sent to India. He researched the most cost-effective solution, which was by ship. He had a contact for a guy who had helped him with MS shipments before. He is kind-hearted and resonates with the spirit. He agrees to deliver the boxes, from doorstep to doorstep, at a generous discount.

Virenbhai also figures that these supplies could benefit local underserved kids in Chicago, so 20-30% of the supplies are kept back. He arranges to deliver them to 2-3 local public schools. A wonderful, think-global-act-local decision.

The shipment arrived to Ahmedabad the morning Virenbhai and I sat in MS chatting about the whole thing. The truck arrives in front of Gandhi Ashram. How to unload? Meanwhile the local kids catch wind and are going bonkers with excitement. "We'll unload everything Virenbhai, don't worry!" And like that the kids themselves bring this wonderful gift the last mile to its final destination.

I'm dumbfounded as Virenbhai relates this whole story to me. So much goodness, I kept wowing in amazement after each turn only to be out-wowed by the next part. After finishing, Virenbhai gets up to leave and I walk over to examine the supplies more closely.

"I didn't tell you the best part of the story," he says, peeking back in. The boxes had come in some metal support scaffolds. Jesús and Kafhai, two architect-volunteers at MS, saw them and excitedly kept them aside. The scrap metal would be perfect for a school they were building in the slum. There was also tons of cardboard that the supplies came packed up in from the delivery truck. The MS team sent that off to a local recycling center and gets Rs.210. They use that money to feed bhajaiyas to the kids as thanks for helping to unload. Not a resource wasted, more good created.

There is so much to love about this story, a rich supply chain of service that blossomed from a small seed. One act of inspired kindness led to maybe a hundred individuals receiving a wonderful opportunity to serve in large and small ways. Not to mention the collective effort will benefit hundreds more children around the world. To me the biggest hero of the story is Shilpa Patel. And the kicker is, I am Shilpa Patel. And so are you, gentle reader. Each one of us sits in a metaphorical office working at Dunder Mifflin in our own corner of the world. But what separated Shilpa from the rest of us is in that moment was that she had her eyes, ears, and heart open. Tuned into the calls of service, generosity, kindness, compassion. What I call the Always Be *Serving* state of mind. It's what lifts the haze off of an ordinary moment and reveals an extraordinary experience.

Are you tuned in?

Humilty in Action

Over the past week I have been incrementally cleaning up mine and Nimo's apartment while he busily works on the Ekatva tour. I started with the bathrooms, then the kitchen, sinks, desks and other furniture, and of course tending to our plants. I have found it a good discipline and nice complement to morning meditation.

One of the big benefits of manual housework is that it really instills humility. It is humility in action. It is dirty, hard work bending over that greasy toilet, scrubbing hard-to-reach corners. But you do it and it grounds you. It keeps you flexible to a range of duties. No work gets beneath you, and that is an aid in cultivating a heart of service. And as Jayeshbhai recently confessed to me during a marathon floor/bathroom/dishes cleaning session, "Above all, I love to clean toilets."

At home, no one is watching you clean that toilet. Except yourself. So you do it to the best of your ability. This helps in developing a strong worth ethic, a dignity of work. Like young Steve Jobs who learned from his furniture-making father that even the parts of the piece that no one sees should be perfect and beautiful.

Manual work is beneficial to body and mind. It's physically challenging and strengthens the body. Also I've found that there is something very satisfying about wiping down a dusty shelf or sink. And that's what I love about India, everything in your house gets dusty! It's my latest argument as a long-standing India apologist.

Doing housework increases your appreciation of Moms. They do it in the normal course of their daily lives. Without recognition or praise or even a thought that what they are doing is something so great. They would think it bizarre and naive and arrogant to write a blog post reflecting and promoting it. Doing housework also makes me experientially understand what my mom means when she says, "I don't want a big house… it is too much work!"

Although I tend to like doing housework, I don't do it regularly enough out of laziness and resistance to getting my hands dirty. Getting started is the hardest part, but once you jump into it it's not so bad. And in the end I never regret having done it. It's satisfying, and you end up with a clean place to live! I plan to keep connected to some regular hard manual housework. Hand washing my underwear will be the task of choice for now.