By Joonho Jo
I had arrived to Indira Gandhi Airport the night before, and as jet lag usually does, I had spent a sleepless night in a country I had never visited before. Lacking energy, I feared my engagement would not seem up to par. But to my luck, energy was provided to me. During Day Care with the youth patients, I was energized by the constant running-around and smiles of these kids — a nonstop cycle of rejuvenation. The only barrier between these young patients and me was the language. I tried as much as possible to use short and easy English words in hope that they would understand parts of what I was saying. I kept my smile, recognizing that facial expressions were the universal language. And then, we started singing — the second stroke of luck I was sent that day.
Outside of academics, music was my main passion. Ever since I was a child, I learned the beautiful tone of the cello and the emotions that could be expressed with it. Then, during freshman spring of high school, I began to play the guitar, with which I loved to sing. Since then, I have sung everything from Ed Sheeran to Sting, from Justin Bieber to Michael Jackson. And somehow, these came in handy at the Day Care that morning.
At first, we started singing in Hindi. Though unaware of the meaning, I tried to echo the syllables and sounds of the songs, and am proud to say that I remotely succeeded. Afterwards, we sang popular American songs that — to my joy — many of the youth knew. When the Day Care leader — a group of musicians called Manzil Mystics — asked if anyone wanted to play guitar, I volunteered. "Do you know any American songs?" I asked. One girl raised her hand and screamed "Shape of You!" Serendipitously, I knew all the lyrics of Shape of You because I had solo-ed that exact song for my a capella group, the Princeton Roaring 20. We began to sing together, and the group joined in as we reached "I'm in love with the shape of you..." Now, even if I did not speak their language, I felt included in this community, this camaraderie. While we could not communicate through language, we could communicate through music.
After the singing, the leaders of the Day Care began singing more upbeat Indian music to which everyone began to dance. As in American middle school dances, the boys were embarrassed to dance, trying to appear "too cool" for dancing. Like a teacher would, I dragged them into the center, evilly laughing while I did it. In the end, the boys were left smiling out of both joy and embarrassment.
Throughout the entire day, I noticed one child who was not partaking in most of the activities, but instead sitting in the corner. While all of the youth had been diagnosed with some form of cancer, many were aesthetically healthy. However, this boy had a form of neck cancer that was visually obvious. It seemed to disturb his ability to dance, clap, or even sing. Even my attempts to smile at him proved futile, and this remained in the back of my mind as the day drew to a close. When all the children were leaving, I tapped him on the shoulder. "Hello!" I said, and held my hand out for a high five. With his left he tapped my hand, and I smiled. When he smiled back, I became aware of the importance of work CanSupport was doing. These children had dealt with insufferable and underserved pain for the early years of their lives. Many of them were unsure of how many more years they could survive. The least we could do is to provide them happiness by appreciating their presence. When this boy had to go, I said "See you next week!" I hope he understood. And I hope to see him again next Wednesday.
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Update: I saw him this past week (week 2) and was ecstatic to see that he greeted me with a wide smile! It was a movie day for Wednesday's Day Care, so we spent the rest of the time watching a fantastic movie called Hichki.
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