How it all started...
In 2007, I took a year off and decided to go to Nepal for 6 weeks. When I arrived in Bharatpur in southern Nepal, I went prepared for the culture shock, the food, and the style of life I was going to experience for the next six weeks. What I was not prepared for was the certain person I would fall in love with in the next 24 hours. Deepak was a small three year old boy, living in the four-roomed Harka Orphan Home with 13 other children, under the watchful eye of Laxmi Larki. He walked up to me, his watery brown eyes peering up at mine, searching for someone to love and care for him. I have never felt anything as tremendous as the moment my eyes landed on his. He was suffering from malnutrition; his belly poking out from his skinny and fragile frame. He was a sorry sight with scabs covering his face and scalp, but I instantly felt a connection to him. I slipped my index finger into the palm of his hand, and his tiny hand closed around my finger.
I formed bonds with all the children, some stronger than others, but nothing compared to the bond I had with Deepak. The other children were not too fond of Deepak. Maybe it was because I liked him, maybe it was because he was small, frail and timid, or maybe it was just plain dislike. I don’t know. But they did not like him.
As I got to know Deepak better, I realized that I really wanted to help him have a better life. He had gotten used to being bullied and then moaning until I came to his rescue. I knew that I would not be there every day for him, so I soon started to encourage him to be stronger. The other children who bullied him, allowed me to encourage Deepak to stand up to them. The children would push him around and I found myself telling Deepak that it was ok to be strong and fight back. I did not want to encourage violence, but I realized in Nepal that violence was a part of everyday life. Deepak needed to be able to fend for himself when I was not around.
To Deepak, I had become his savior. To me, Deepak had become my inspiration and motivation. I wanted to insure that he would have the healthiest life he could. I encouraged him to eat all his food and gave him a bath every day. I took him to the local doctor and purchased medications for his skin ailments and intestinal problems. To get a head start on his education, I taught him to count 5 and read children’s books to him.
October 24, 2007 came too soon, and I found myself saying goodbye to the children. I hugged them tightly and kissed their cheeks, promising to come back. Deepak, sensing something different, clung to my leg the entire day. I forced myself not to think about him until the absolute last minute. As I carried my bags out of the orphanage, he followed me, whining softly with his thumb in his mouth. Finally I could not put off goodbye any longer. I hugged him gently, whispering to him. I promised him to help him, to help him succeed in life. I promised to come back as soon as I was able to. I stood quickly, and it took everything in me to not cry. I followed Laxmi out to the road and glanced back. All the children were waving, with calls of “Goodbye, Miss!” and “Write to us!”. Deepak was sucking his thumb, his face full of confusion and sadness as he watched his “Mommy” ride away in a rickshaw.
Coming back to the US was great, as I had missed my mom’s cooking, my bed and the other things that come with such a "luxurious" lifestyle. Days turned into weeks, which turned into months. Deepak did not leave my mind once. He was there as I planned other trips. He was there when I celebrated holidays with my family. I finally sat down and tried to figure out what to do. While I was at the orphanage, I had heard about another volunteer looking into paying for one of the children to go to Private School. I realized that if I were to help Deepak, this was probably the best place to start. All the children who live in the orphanage go to public school. I attended it one day and was taken aback by the lack of organization and motivation the teachers had. They rarely taught and when they did, they flew through the material, oblivious to the children’s lack of understanding. Private schools on the other hand, concentrate on each child’s needs; the courses are taught in English, forcing the children to learn one of the most important languages in today’s world. Not a lot of people in Nepal speak English and if they do, they are considered well educated and from privileged backgrounds.. If they speak it fluently, they have many more advantages in life. I contacted people in Nepal and made arrangements for him to enroll in Private School.
I started college in the fall of 2008 and that made a lot of things more difficult. I had limited funds, and the money I had went into my education. The little bit I had left over was put aside for Deepak, but it did not reach the necessary $600 for one year’s tuition. I reached out to friends, family, co-workers and other people I knew. The response was ridiculous. I received many envelopes back with cash and checks bursting out of them. Not long after my fundraising began, I was able to send the contributions to Nepal and Deepak started school. Thanks to the many donations I have received, Deepak has been able to attend private school for the past four years.
Meeting Deepak turned my life around. I realized I could make a difference in children's lives. I saw that some children did not have equal opportunities to education and from that came The Deepak Foundation.
I formed bonds with all the children, some stronger than others, but nothing compared to the bond I had with Deepak. The other children were not too fond of Deepak. Maybe it was because I liked him, maybe it was because he was small, frail and timid, or maybe it was just plain dislike. I don’t know. But they did not like him.
As I got to know Deepak better, I realized that I really wanted to help him have a better life. He had gotten used to being bullied and then moaning until I came to his rescue. I knew that I would not be there every day for him, so I soon started to encourage him to be stronger. The other children who bullied him, allowed me to encourage Deepak to stand up to them. The children would push him around and I found myself telling Deepak that it was ok to be strong and fight back. I did not want to encourage violence, but I realized in Nepal that violence was a part of everyday life. Deepak needed to be able to fend for himself when I was not around.
To Deepak, I had become his savior. To me, Deepak had become my inspiration and motivation. I wanted to insure that he would have the healthiest life he could. I encouraged him to eat all his food and gave him a bath every day. I took him to the local doctor and purchased medications for his skin ailments and intestinal problems. To get a head start on his education, I taught him to count 5 and read children’s books to him.
October 24, 2007 came too soon, and I found myself saying goodbye to the children. I hugged them tightly and kissed their cheeks, promising to come back. Deepak, sensing something different, clung to my leg the entire day. I forced myself not to think about him until the absolute last minute. As I carried my bags out of the orphanage, he followed me, whining softly with his thumb in his mouth. Finally I could not put off goodbye any longer. I hugged him gently, whispering to him. I promised him to help him, to help him succeed in life. I promised to come back as soon as I was able to. I stood quickly, and it took everything in me to not cry. I followed Laxmi out to the road and glanced back. All the children were waving, with calls of “Goodbye, Miss!” and “Write to us!”. Deepak was sucking his thumb, his face full of confusion and sadness as he watched his “Mommy” ride away in a rickshaw.
Coming back to the US was great, as I had missed my mom’s cooking, my bed and the other things that come with such a "luxurious" lifestyle. Days turned into weeks, which turned into months. Deepak did not leave my mind once. He was there as I planned other trips. He was there when I celebrated holidays with my family. I finally sat down and tried to figure out what to do. While I was at the orphanage, I had heard about another volunteer looking into paying for one of the children to go to Private School. I realized that if I were to help Deepak, this was probably the best place to start. All the children who live in the orphanage go to public school. I attended it one day and was taken aback by the lack of organization and motivation the teachers had. They rarely taught and when they did, they flew through the material, oblivious to the children’s lack of understanding. Private schools on the other hand, concentrate on each child’s needs; the courses are taught in English, forcing the children to learn one of the most important languages in today’s world. Not a lot of people in Nepal speak English and if they do, they are considered well educated and from privileged backgrounds.. If they speak it fluently, they have many more advantages in life. I contacted people in Nepal and made arrangements for him to enroll in Private School.
I started college in the fall of 2008 and that made a lot of things more difficult. I had limited funds, and the money I had went into my education. The little bit I had left over was put aside for Deepak, but it did not reach the necessary $600 for one year’s tuition. I reached out to friends, family, co-workers and other people I knew. The response was ridiculous. I received many envelopes back with cash and checks bursting out of them. Not long after my fundraising began, I was able to send the contributions to Nepal and Deepak started school. Thanks to the many donations I have received, Deepak has been able to attend private school for the past four years.
Meeting Deepak turned my life around. I realized I could make a difference in children's lives. I saw that some children did not have equal opportunities to education and from that came The Deepak Foundation.
