We’ve just returned from three weeks in India—and we’re still carrying it with us.
It’s hard to describe what these trips are really like. They are full in every sense—physically, emotionally, relationally. We came home exhausted by the pace and intensity, but deeply grateful for what we experienced.
There were so many highs.
Time spent with people we love. Sitting in homes of families we’ve known for years—some who once survived by begging on the streets, and some who still continue to only just survive by begging on the streets. Being welcomed again, not as visitors, but as friends.
There is something deeply grounding about those moments. Sharing a chat in a combination of broken English, Hindi and hand gestures. Sitting close together. Listening to their family news. Laughing. These relationships have been built slowly, over many years, and they are at the heart of everything we do.
Returning to Punjab
Our journey began in Punjab, where we visited each of our six centres.
There is always encouragement in seeing children learning, growing, and turning up each day with energy and joy.
We also had the privilege of launching a new Women’s Tailoring Centre. It’s simple, but significant—creating opportunity, dignity, and independence for women who have had very few options.
But alongside this progress, there were also sobering reminders.
Walking through one of the slum communities again, we were confronted by the harshness of daily life. Conditions that are difficult to explain, and even harder to fully comprehend unless you’ve been there.
And yet, in the middle of this, we felt incredibly grateful.
Grateful for the opportunity to have established a small school here—literally on tarps by the side of the road. Grateful to be teaching children who are eager to attend, who show up ready to learn, soaking up every moment, devouring the opportunity in front of them. In a place that offers so little, these children are given something deeply important—love, safety, and moments of joy each day.
Moments you don’t expect
In Kotdwara and Bijnor, where we have 8 centres and a Women’s Tailoring Centre, we experienced something we’ll never forget. A group of older students, now aged 16 and above, came specifically to find us.
These are children who started attending our centres when they were just four years old. Now, they are stepping into adulthood. Some have jobs. Some, like Bobby and Shiv, are attending university.
They didn’t come because they had to. They came to say thank you. To spend time. To reconnect.
One even asked if we could do the hokey pokey again. And so we did (we did the hokey pokey 15 times across our trip - it was exhausting). It was joyful, slightly ridiculous, and incredibly meaningful. A moment that captured years of investment, relationship, and growth.
This is what long-term impact looks like.
New beginnings
We also travelled to one of our newest centres in a remote village.
It reminded us of how every centre begins.
Very basic conditions. Limited resources. Children with little or no literacy. Almost no access to education otherwise.
And yet, there is openness. A willingness to learn. A community that is grateful and hopeful.
It’s both challenging and inspiring—to see the starting point, and to know what is possible over time.
The SHINE Women’s Conference
One of the standout moments of the trip was the SHINE Women’s Conference.
Around 400 women gathered in what can only be described as a jungle village.
Many of these women have never been to school.
And yet, they came -eager to learn, to connect, to belong and to be encouraged. There was laughter. There were tears. There was joy. It was vibrant, powerful, and deeply moving.
What struck us most was the contrast.
Ten years ago, when we first began working in this community, there was strong resistance to education—especially for women and children. Now, this same community is embracing it.
That kind of transformation doesn’t happen quickly. It takes time, trust, and consistency. But it is happening.
Unexpected moments of wonder
In the midst of everything, we also had a moment that felt almost surreal.
A jungle safari. And not just any safari -we found ourselves a little too close to wild elephants. It was one of those moments where time slows down slightly. A mix of awe, excitement, and just a hint of fear.
India has a way of holding all of this together, the beauty, the chaos, the intensity, the unexpected.
Celebrating life
We were also there during Holi.
Colour, joy, laughter, mischief, energy.
A celebration of spring, of new life, of possibility and fresh starts. We were welcomed into it completely, covered in colour, embraced by the community, part of something joyful and shared. Moments like this stay with you.
A heavy weight
But alongside all of this, there is a weight we carry.
We met families facing immediate hardship.
We saw classrooms needing basic resources - books, games, sports equipment.
We spent time with children, particularly those from our Disability Centre -most of whom still have no access to formal education or ongoing support. Not because they are unable to learn, but because the systems around them are not equipped to include them. For many of these children, this means being left behind entirely -missing out on the opportunity to grow, to be nurtured, and to experience the dignity of education that should be available to every child. After meeting with their teacher, hearing their stories, and seeing both their vulnerability and their potential, I feel a deep responsibility to act. We are committed to following this up - to do all we can to advocate for a number of these students in particular, whose disability currently prevents them from accessing what is a basic human right: education, support, and the opportunity to flourish.
At times, it feels overwhelming.
But this trip has also given us clarity.
In the coming weeks, we’ll be sharing more about specific needs—how we can advocate, respond, and continue building programs that bring real, lasting change.
A shared journey
What we felt most strongly on this trip was the depth of relationship.
To walk through a slum and be welcomed.
To sit in someone’s home and be trusted with their story.
To reconnect with children who are now young adults.
This is not surface-level work. It is built over years. And it is something you our supporters are part of.
What stays with me
And as we reflect on all we’ve experienced, I (Doug) personally keep coming back to my encounters with poverty—and the deep injustice that sits alongside it.
One of the most confronting moments for me on this trip was walking through a slum where, at one point, we saw a little kid being bathed in a bucket of water close by to an open, foul-smelling sewer. The environment was putrid, unsafe, and deeply confronting - conditions that no one should have to live in.
I felt embarrassed to be there. Self-conscious. Not out of fear for my safety, although it’s not a place tourists would normally go, but because the contrast between myself and the people around me could not have been more obvious. My skin. My clothes. My wealth.
And yet -we were welcomed.
People greeted us. Invited us in. Offered us a place to sit.
It’s hard to reconcile such hardship with such hospitality. But it’s real. And it’s humbling.
It humbles me because, in those moments, I see something deeply human. I see people who are no different to me—equal in worth and dignity—yet enduring circumstances that are incredibly hard. And still, they smile. Some are cautious—but many know us now. We’ve been part of their community for years. We’ve taught their children. Some of the very people welcoming us were once students in our centres—now grown, some even holding babies in their arms.
This is what long-term impact looks like.
And yet, despite the smiles, I find it incredibly sad. Because this world could look so different if we were more committed to investing where it truly counts - making a difference in people’s lives, bringing hope, dignity, and opportunity where it’s needed most.
So different to what is currently occupying headlines around the world. So much pain and sadness that, in many ways, could be avoided.
And I’m reminded of the words of Mother Teresa, who spoke about seeing Jesus in “the distressing disguise of the poor.”
We have seen that again.
And it changes you.
It has once again changed me deeply and completely.
