A residential facility in rural Tamil Nadu, working towards self-sustainability, equips youth with intellectual disabilities with life and vocational skills, besides giving them curricular education.
I wake up at 7am, to the repeated calls for Akila akka (sister). I quickly untuck my mosquito net from under the edges of my mattress, and climb down the rungs of my bunk bed. I’m at Sristi Village, a non-profit organisation located in Konamangalam, a small village in Tamil Nadu working for youth with intellectual disabilities.
I go outside to greet the energetic youth who live at Sristi – the ones that called out my name to wake me up.
Sristi is home to over 50 youth, aged 18 to 35 years. All of them are youth with some kind of intellectual disabilities.
I will be spending nine months here.
Sristi provides the youth with housing, three meals a day and vocational training – mostly in farming. They aim to create livelihoods for people with disabilities to live independent and dignified lives, and their core values are centred on equity and eco-friendly sustainability.
I share a room with five others on Sristi’s campus. This is the standard setup for everyone – the youth, the staff and any guests. During my stay, I’ve met German special educators-in-training, Austrian kindergarten teachers, a French couple interested in farming and others.
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Making new friends from around the world has made it much easier to adjust to living in the heart of rural Tamil Nadu, when my urban friends and family can’t grasp my daily challenges or fully understand my time at Sristi.
I’m writing about a day in my life to bring Sristi and my search for serenity here to life for you all.
First, I head to the place where everyone practises yoga every day. Though surrounded by people, I find my first moments of inner peace while stretching. Once the yoga session is complete, everyone disperses to various farms around the Sristi campus.
The rabbits, cows and chickens have to be fed; the plants watered; and vegetables and fruits harvested from the organic farms. Some have housekeeping responsibilities at the school and residences, which are all located on Sristi’s enclosed campus. I complete my own chores – cleaning common areas, taking out the trash and washing my clothes.
During the day, some 20-odd children aged under 18 years who attend Sristi’s day school join the resident youth. I work with a few in a library, which is nestled in one corner of the rectangular school building, against the backdrop of constant chatter.
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When I make a lap around the classrooms to take a stretch break, I peek into a pre-primary room where the teachers are instructing children on how to brush their teeth and use the bathroom. In a secondary class, the older children learn how to count and read.
Apart from the core life skills and academic curriculum, the students dance, draw, play sports and even get involved with small farming tasks to refine their motor skills. It is an incredible model of combining social, educational and medical services based on a growing body of reserach about the therapeutic value of nature, and the freedom to explore it.
By 1 pm, over 100 staff members and students across all of Sristi’s projects gather in the dining hall for lunch. I try my best to sit with someone new each day. Though I was born in India and am fluent in Tamil, this visit marked my return to the country after 20 years. As a pseudo-foreigner, the gap between me and Sristi’s community widens and narrows unexpectedly.
My first lesson is appreciating how people at Sristi – and every other remote, rural area of the world – are deserving of the good, accessible and equal resources. No dream is too big and no vision too grand.
Sristi has many upcoming projects – adding new, healthy foods to the menu; starting a commercial chicken farm to achieve greater financial stability; and, of course, the cafe that I am assigned to work in.
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I am reminded that the community here has solutions for their problems, but are rarely asked about these ideas. During my stay, I hope to listen closely.
School ends by 4 pm, and the day students return home, while the resident youth resume vocational training. At 6 pm, the bell rings to indicate that it’s time for the village-wide community gathering. Everyone sits in a giant, ever-expanding circle to exercise.
The boys share their daily work (from Monday to Saturday) and the entire room applauds. Then they recite Tamil Thirukural couplets, which include moral teachings like how one should be grateful often, and give without expecting anything in return.
Finally, the 50-odd people take turns to share what they are grateful for. Some are obvious – thanking Karthik, the founder of Sristi; the teachers; other staff members; and their parents.
The most touching, serene moments are when the youth thank one another for the small gestures – a helping hand in the rabbit farm, a shared juice at mealtime, or simply sitting next to them in the evening.
Also Read: Farming proves therapeutic to the intellectually challenged
The magnitude of marginalisation and poverty experienced by people with intellectual, developmental, psychiatric and psychosocial disabilities in rural India is difficult and saddening to comprehend.
However, the joys, strengths and capabilities of Sristi’s community is an encouraging example of positive change that is possible for youth with intellectual disabilities.
The lead image at the top shows some of the young residents tending to the cattle at Sristi Village. (Photos courtesy Sristi)
Akila Valliammai Muthukumar is an American Indian Foundation Banyan Impact Fellow placed at Sristi Foundation, a non-profit organisation in rural Tamil Nadu. Through her time at Sristi, she hopes to better understand rural health for people with mental disabilities and build sustainable livelihood programmes for and with communities in need.
