A Place to Spend the Night in Kolkata

(Posted on September 20, 2010)

Driving down the dirt road leading up to a building complex, which appeared to be an abandonded hospital or medical center, I started to feel a bit of anxiety not knowing what we were about to encounter.  There were a few very large, run-down buildings surrounded by a high concrete fence. A five story concrete building next door looked as if it was going to fall down, and I would never believe that people lived there had it not been for the laundry hanging out of the windows.  The Iswar Sankalpa sign above the door to one of the entrances of the medical-looking buildings told us we were at the right place.  As my IBM teammate, Minke and I approached the gated entrance, security guards inside had to unlock it to let us in.

We had just entered the Iswar Sankalpa woman's night shelter.  The very first shelter in all of Kolkata. 

The buildings were government buildings, part of either the current or former Urban Health Center.  The section which housed the shelter had been vacant for several years and the government leased it to Iswar Sankalpa for less than 100 rupees ($2.00 USD) per year.  It is a perfect space for a shelter, and a very secure environment for women who are either homeless and/or have a mental illness.  The area is comprised of several rooms, although one of the two main rooms are used for  crafts and vocational activities, while the other is the sleeping area and for group therapy sessions.  The interior, much like the exterior, is very industrial with concrete floors and walls, high ceilings, and of course, no air conditioning.  There is a kitchen where the women help prepare the meals, and a staff office with a hanging sheet used in place of a door.  The office was a former medical registration area, as there are large glass windows which allows the staff to see everything in one of the large rooms, while the patients can also watch the staff perform their work.  This is the area we work in while visiting the shelter and creating the new database system.

Once we walked inside, I immediately felt an energy by the activities that were taking place.  A group of young boys dressed in school clothes were making candles in a corner.  Next to them was a stack of shopping bags handmade with newspaper, as well as painted artwork being prepared to become the cover of greeting cards, of which the local government has placed an order for 400.  Women were moving about, some doing their chores, others coming up to welcome us.  The shelter currently has twenty five women staying there.  Two are preparing to return home to their families in the coming days and weeks.  A few others have recently arrived and are more reserved and withdrawn, not yet sure if they like the confines of their new surroundings.  And yet, others have been there since the shelter opened six months ago and don't see any sign of leaving anytime soon.  Either their family cannot be located, or their family cannot take care of them with the current mental disorder that they have.  Some do not speak the local language, so while they talk, they cannot be understood.  They have obviously traveled far and ended up in Kolkata, which may or may not be foreign to them.

As we walked around the rooms, you could see and feel their eyes watching us, the visitors; the foreigners.  But once I stopped and looked into their eyes and face, I could see so much more. 

Each of these women have their own history.  They came from someplace; some much farther than others.  Some of them so desperately want to talk to us, but the language barrier between Bengali and English makes it imposible, so you have to rely on hand gestures to try to get just a little part of what they are telling you.  Of course a few staff members could translate, but by the time you could call them over, the moment would have passed.

For the most part, the women look happy there.  They have a clean place to live, food to eat, and basic medical care to help them get better so they can hopefully make their way home.  The chores that each is given, provides them with a sense of purpose.  Watching lunch being prepared, it appeared that everyone knew what they needed to do, as this has become part of their daily routine. After lunch, the women would take a nap.  Each one has their own space in a large multi-purpose room.  The women sleep on the floor, as there is no extra money to buy a simple $25.00 cot that could be set up and taken down with ease. I hated to see them sleeping on the hard floor, because I know it couldn't be as comfortable as they were making it appear.  They do have sleeping bags, but none were used during the mid day siesta.  I asked one of the social workers about the cots and whether any of the women would use them.  I was told that some probably would, while others wouldn't, but it would be really nice to be able to give them the option.

At other times throughout the day, the women attend various therapy classes, usually performed in a circle in the multi-purpose/sleeping room.  Minke participated in the exercise therapy consisting of jumping up and down and moving about.  (Some women were much more enthusiastic about this than others) We also watched a dance therapy session, which many women really enjoyed. 

During a visit a couple days later, Minke and I participated in a general therapy session where they went around the circle telling us their names, and were eager for us to ask them questions.  I asked a few basic questions such as what they had for lunch, and what was their favorite activity. One of the ladies stated in Bengali that they really enjoyed having us there.  A few songs were sung by various women before they told us that they wanted Minke and I to sing for them.  Being put on the spot, I drew a blank for the words to any song.  Since none of them could understand English, I thought I could get away with "Happy Birthday".  When I finished, to my surprise, one of the women (who they know is from Bangladesh) told the social worker that the song was a party song and usually sung when you cut the cake.  I was completely taken aback.  I did not expect any of them in that particular setting to understand the song, even though the tune was universal it didn't translate the same to Bengali.  None of the other women appeared to recognize it, even though they attempted to clap to the beat. 

That particular moment had a strong impact on me.  It made me stop and realize, yet again, that each of these homeless mentally ill women have a history.  They came from someplace.  They have a family.  They had a childhood.  They had a life full of experiences and yet somehow they ended up here, at the Iswar Sankalpa night shelter. They are getting help so that they can remember, something, anything, to enable them to find their way home.