Winter in southern Rajasthan is peaceful. The sun has lost its harshness, and provides a welcomed warmth amidst the cool gentle winds that run across vast fields of wheat, their fresh vivid green in soft contrast with the dustier green of the trees and brush.

I notice none of this as I hurry along a rocky path to the main road, where an eight-seater van full of women from the surrounding villages waits for Khemanibai and me. I’ve just managed to convince Khemanibai to attend the very first women’s health meeting of Aajeevika Bureau, my host NGO, but our car is running late. Very late. Two hours late, in fact, for a two-hour meeting. Twenty women are already waiting at the office for our arrival.

Khemanibai crams herself into the middle row of seats with five other women, and after much shuffling of hands, legs and sarees we manage to get the door shut. I jump into the back of the jeep and squeeze myself onto the floor amid six pairs of feet. Waving off several offers to switch places, I call out to the front of the van, “Hiralalji, we’re all in, let’s go!!”

And we finally start moving. I breathe a sigh of relief; we’re only a handful of kilometers away from the office and should arrive in ten or fifteen minutes. The road is bumpy and the floor is hard, but my energy is on an all-time high as I join in the random chatting in Vaghadi, the local dialect that incorporates both Hindi and Gujarati.

After a few minutes, our car slows to a stop. Unable to see ahead, I assume we’re waiting for a truck or tractor to pass us from the opposite direction (it’s a narrow road). But after several moments and no movement, I sit up on the balls of my feet and peer through the front glass. I see a tractor, some men standing in front of it, and a tree, fallen across the road.

Murphy’s Law.

There’s a small, unobstructed strip of road through which the van might have been able to pass, but Hiralalji points to the ditch that the right tires would probably get stuck in if we tried. “It’s not worth the risk,” he says, peering back at me in the rearview mirror.

Several minutes pass by. None of us get out of the car, and the men on the road are still standing and talking to each other. The lines of vehicles in both directions are getting longer. A local jeep with men, women and children overflowing through the doorless sides and perched on top of the canvas roof honks incessantly for a minute or so and falls silent, waiting patiently for the tree to move.
It feels impossible to sit still any longer. I yank the door handle open, scramble out of the car and walk towards the fallen tree, with no real idea of what I should do. My phone, clutched tightly in my sweaty palm, starts ringing – it’s Divya, a fellow team member who is holding down the fort back at the office.

“How far are you?” she asks.
“I’m only a few kilometers away, but there’s a tree blocking the road. I don’t know when it’ll get moved,” I reply.
“Oh no,” she says. “Well, don’t stress, just come back as soon as you can. We’ll get started with the meeting here.”

I glance back at the van, an eight-seater filled with fifteen women. Women, who have left piles of work at home and in their fields to attend our meeting on my request, who now sit quietly in the car, looking at me standing in the middle of the road.

I turn on my heel and walk towards the tree. The men standing nearby stare at me as step over several leafy branches and stop in front of the trunk. I adjust the dupatta on my shoulders, bend down and start pushing the tree with both hands, one of which is still holding my phone.

The tree does not budge.

“It’s not going to move,” one of the men calls out. I look up at him and say, “Maybe you can help me.” I start pushing again.

He comes over and stands next to me. Another man joins us, and we start pushing. The trunk moves a bit, but not much, and when we stop pushing it rolls back to where it was.

They give up. I give up. We step back over the branches. The men return to their group; I stand in front of the tree, staring at it, peripherally aware that all the men are still staring at me with somewhat amused looks on their faces. In the low murmur of their voices I hear the word
“Madam.”

I step over the leaves and branches again and reach the trunk. My phone is still in my hand; it does not occur to me to set it down somewhere. I start pushing again, heaving with all my might, barely noticing the branches scraping at my feet as I try my hardest to move the tree. My dupatta slips off one of my shoulders and snags on a branch. I keep pushing. I call out to the men, “Chalo, help me move this!”

Two men join me. Another three join a moment later. Before I realize what is happening, we have lifted the trunk off the road. My hands leave the tree and I quickly crouch to the ground as the trunk soars inches above my head and the men half-heave, half-pitch the tree to the side of the road, where it falls with a crash among crunching branches and rising balloons of dust. The six of us look at the tree for a moment, then at each other. My face breaks into a smile. “Dhaniavaad! Ho gaya!” I yell out cheerfully, and their faces break into smiles as well. I run back to the car, climb into the back and shut the door as Hiralalji shifts gears and drives forward. I’m panting hard as I plant myself onto the floor one more time, unable to contain my smile. All the ladies are chattering away at full speed, their words rushing by so quickly that I can’t understand what they’re saying. But they show me how they’re feeling. One of my good friends’ mother, whose name I don’t know but whom I call Maaji, cups my face in her rough warm hands. Another grabs my wrist and doesn’t let go. Another places her palm on my shoulder, and I am engulfed in smiles and laughter as I sit there, saying nothing.

We reach the office and join the meeting, which runs splendidly. Samosas are served, followed by tea, and soon enough I am waving good-bye to my friends as they return to their villages, with shared promises of meeting again very soon.

Salumbar has returned to its wintry peacefulness for me. But I feel a ripple in the air.

Kinnari Jhaveri, Augist 2009 Indicorps Fellow

“There’s a way to combine the very best of the not-for-profit, philanthropic world with the very best of the for-profit, enterprising world. This hybrid is the wave of the future for both profit and nonprofit companies.”

– An interview with Bill Strickland, CEO of the Manchester Craftsmen’s
Guild and the Bidwell Training Center Inc., from “Genius At Work”

I planned on staying a year. It has been nearly three.

My reason for staying is rooted in my Fellowship year and rooted in the concept of bringing the for-profit and not-for-profit world together. I was located in the Naickaneri Hills, in Tamil Nadu’s Vellore District. My original project was to work on nutrition seminars in a small, mountain-top, Adivasi community. But, as often happens in India, things didn’t pan out as planned and I ended up spending most of my time working with a local potter to design and distribute pot-in-pots (PIPs). PIPs are rural refrigerators created by placing one clay pot inside another with sand and water filling the gap in between. With this device powered by the crumbs of the Earth, the villagers were able to keep their fruits and vegetables fresh for longer periods of time, thus improving their health and nutrition. Even better, the PIPs were so affordable that villagers paid for the technology and didn’t need a subsidy.

It was a great example of the private sector having a social impact. Thus, my interest in leveraging companies to do social good was born.

After my Fellowship, I wanted to do more in India. Gagan Rana (January 2007), along with colleagues Shrot Katewa and Alim Haji, founded and incubated Source for Change (SFC) during his time at the Grassroots Development Laboratory (GDL). He asked me to join the SFC team. The all-women, rural business process outsourcing (BPO) company addresses social and business needs. For our clients, we provide a quality product at a competitive price. At the same time, our all-female staff gains technology skills and employment in an industry that might otherwise overlook them.  Source for Change has been able to prove that twenty-five women from traditionally conservative Rajasthani communities can learn how to use computers and earn an IT-based livelihood.

The last year and a half have pushed me to consider how I wish to imbibe Indicorps in my daily life as there have always been Fellows around to push me into thinking what it all truly means.  Although I learned a great deal from Indicorps, I have perhaps grown more from what has come since.  The hardest has been learning (at least a little bit) how to put my ego aside in order to work with others more easily. I still have a long way to go in terms of personal and leadership growth, but my responsibilities at SFC have forced me to realize that things are rarely about me. The more that I realize this, the more effective I become.

Selfless leadership is a life lesson that is often misconstrued. During Indicorps, I narrowly defined it as being willing to volunteer and serve the poorest of the poor. Since then, I have realized its meaning is as simple as working toward an objective and not for one’s own personal gain. This has proven to be immensely difficult to live. My life in India post-Indicorps has been a time for me to more fully realize this.

Karthik Raman, January 2007 Fellow

Ahmedabad Ultimate (AU) Indicorps’ local Ultimate Frisbee initiative hosted its second national tournament, the 2009 Ahmedabad Ultimate Open in December.

Each of the six teams in attendance had a chance to play one another. The tournament also served as an opportunity for the Indian Ultimate Frisbee community to come together, learn more about one another, and grow stronger.  The teams in attendance included two teams from Chennai, one mix of Delhi and Mumbai players and three teams from Ahmedabad.
After two-days of intense Ultimate Frisbee competition, two teams from Chennai competed in the championship match.  The match ended with Chennai’s Too Fat and Too Furious (TFTF) prevailing over Chennai’s “Stall 7” team by a score of 7-4.

The Flying Dutchmen from the Indian Institute of Management (IIM Ahmedabad) won the “Most Spirited Team” award, voted on by opposing teams and coaches.  The award recognized the team that best epitomized a unique aspect of the sport of Ultimate Frisbee, the “Spirit of the Game.”  During the post-tournament awards ceremony, Manu Karan, the captain of the Chennai TFTF explained the concept to the audience, “As a competitor, you can only be sure that you are your best when your opponent is playing to his or her best as well.  So the ‘Spirit of the Game’ demands that you do the things necessary to make you and your competitor both play to the top of his or her game.”

In addition to tournament play, players from the Ahmedabad Ultimate youth league came as special guests to cheer on the teams.  Throughout the tournament, the youth, ages 10-16, sat, talked and played with the national-level players.  A highlight of the weekend for all, spectators and participants alike, was the exhibition match in which the youth team players faced-off against the adults.

Rahul Brahmbhatt, August 2009 Indicorps Fellow

My shoes were stolen at about 8am on a Sunday morning. Normally I would have been upset, even a bit angry, but this morning I found it laughable and liberating – a perfect opportunity to walk in someone else’s shoes.  As part of heritage week, in late November 2009, Volunteer Ahmedabad organized a Prabhat Pheri.

Prabhat Pheri (literally translated to morning walk) is a tradition of walking through a city in the early hours of the morning singing spiritual songs. On this November morning we met at a temple in Ahmedbabad’s old city. At 5am we came together for a moment of silence and lit candles to begin our walk through the city. With a group over 30 strong we moved through the side streets to the peaceful sounds of Rutles Ehipassico or ‘Rootless’ a local Sufi band.

As one of the participants Abhishek Kher noted, “This was an opportunity for us to deeply connect and immerse in our own city.” The walk ended with time for reflection followed by chai and a brief trip to a nearby Mosque, Shah Jammu Masjid. We took time to meditate together as a group within the mosque and as the sun began to shine, I felt a sense of content with the day that had just barely begun.

As we walked out I noticed my shoes were gone. Assisted by others, we searched the grounds, but my shoes were nowhere to be seen. I laughed, found two mis-matched shoes in the corner and continued on my way.  For me, Prabhat Pheri was a beautiful reminder that walking in another person’s shoes, through another person’s roads in the city, is important to gain a more holistic understanding of where each person comes from. (To see photos, click here)

Lakshmi Eassey, Indicorps Staff 2009-2010

Shortly before I arrived in India for a term as an Indicorps Ultimate Frisbee intern in 2008, I held a photo exhibit that posed the question: “what does it mean to be a human being?” Six weeks later, I stayed up reading a well-thumbed copy of Gandhi’s autobiography in late night heat rhythmically pierced by the oscillating ceiling fan.

I still have that book, from beside my keyboard, the back cover blares out a quote that gave me pause each morning as I’d gather up the frisbees and go to practice: “I have nothing new to teach the world,” Gandhi says.  “Truth and non-violence are as old as the hills.”  For some who visit India, it’s the food or the noise that create the culture shock, but I’m the type that’s profoundly affected by ideas.  And to consider that there was something to life besides the never-ending march of progress and rationality, profit and materialism – that ideas as nebulous as truth and non-violence were not just the domain of the saintly… well, my head came near exploding.

This idea carried me through months of exploring India during and after Indicorps.  Having shed my burden of generating a world changing, Eureka-style moment, I allowed myself instead to comfortably sink into an unbroken world of moments, with ears pricked and camera poised for the late day light glinting off the hills.  Sure enough, these moments arrived, proffered alongside aromatic tea, in interrogative smiles emblazoned across a billion faces.  Over time, as I listened to India, I realized that my mission wasn’t to create as much as it was to share: to act as a middleman in spreading the lessons that dazzled like chunky diamonds along my path. This is around the time that I started calling myself a lovewallah.

Just off Ashram Road at an intersection near Income Tax, there’s a youngish man who makes dabeli sandwiches with such artistry that he absolutely confounds the laws of capitalism when he asks for only 7 rupees remittance.  I’m sure you have dozens of your own examples: many wallahs in India do it with love, not just for money.  Similarly, I loved this idea of the lovewallah – in my mind, the wallah who advocates on behalf of the aesthetic and moral, not just the functional and utilitarian.

A quick read of any day’s headlines provides as much evidence as is necessary that the time has come for the lovewallahs.  We live in a society that is buttressed by theoretical and scientific rationalism but lacks a corresponding foundation in morality.  Ours is not a crisis of environment, fossil fuels, extremism or economics as much as it is a clear repudiation of our left brain-heavy system of ideas.  Our eroded moral foundation has many of us muddled in self-delusion, concerned only with our short-term happiness, sidetracked by irony or banality, and desperate for sympathetic human attention.  Spend one day on Facebook to see whether that’s true.

We forget that entertainment, achievement, understanding, and love are not intrinsically private property.  We don’t need things to live a fulfilling life – at least, not nearly as many things as we’re told we do.  But we can’t seem to stop believing that we can buy or build ourselves our happiness and enlightenment.  That the developing world seems to be bursting with the authentic experiences of being human that seem so few and far between in the materialistic, developed world is an irony so twisted it’s laughable.  Remember, truth (and the aesthetic) is as old as the hills, not newly available and 50% off.

For me, all of this is as clear as day, and I’ve turned my attention to aligning my actions with my ideas. One project is a website based on the instigating question: www.whatdoesitmeantobeahumanbeing.ca; I hope to combine some stories with the images and create a book, maybe sharing it at schools in my community.  Another is a unique exhibition at Toronto’s Contact International Photo Festival next May.  Of course I hope that some of these projects will provide me with the necessary patronage to continue working, but mostly I hope that they spur consideration and compassion – that they can encourage someone further along their path.
And just like that dabeliwallah could never trademark the dabeli, regardless of how artistic he became, sharing love and relentlessly discussing ideas couldn’t possibly be my exclusive domain.  I’m aiming to suggest that we all have the potential to be lovewallahs – and that community life operates mostly harmoniously precisely because that’s what so many people choose to do.

Several years on, I’m still wrestling with what it means to be a human being.  But my hunch is that it’s not the kind of thing that can be found in a shop.  I’m sure you’re also on your own search, and I wish you the best of luck.  I think, from time to time, we should share what we find.
“I have an answer that cannot be pinned down, that eludes me when I need it most, that flickers and gleams in the corners of my eyes and disappears when I turn towards it.”

Jordan Bower, Intern Frisbee 2008 and Photos 2009

becoming home

I was once the airport type
trolley suitcase, latte chai
staring at the painted hollow faces
smile
thinking I could fly
though I never saw what was
but clouds
through double panes of glass
convinced me I was higher
than the places I thought I’d go
if I ever died, when I believed
when I was a child.
From my later travels
extensive overland
I learned there are no heavens
but what the earth has
in water buffalo alleyways
where love and history sometimes
graze and twitching hearts
flick the flies away.
I wait today on a yellowed platform
jhola bag, yellowed sign
in three languages
where trains stop sometimes
and gauge, sometimes broadly
the best way to go home,
which stops are meant to last forever
which stops are mine.

– Roshan Nair

Roshan Nair is putting together a collection of poetry inspired by Indicorps experiences.  In Roshan’s words, “The idea is to use poetry to tell our stories through scenes, images and emotions, like a movie, but better.”

Roshan would like to encourage those inspired by the Indicorps experience to submit poems to roshanair@gmail.com by February 7, 2010.
If you find yourself saying, “great idea, but I have never written poetry, and do not know how,” Roshan has the following tips:

-Write down all the fragments that come together when you think about your Indicorps experience (or any experience, really) — maybe where you lived, your community or a particular experience during the year.

-Rereading your journal or columns may help jog your memory. See if you can say those same things in fewer words, or in words that flow better when spoken together. Then repeat, try the whole editing thing over again.

- Eventually, you may decide you want it to look or sound a certain way, and that’s what poetic license is, so go ahead. Then send it in. We’re waiting.

On the last full day of the October 2009 Workshop, over 150 Fellows from Teach for India (TFI), the Gandhi Fellowship, and Indicorps came together at a local school for an afternoon of informal introductions, sharing best practices, and realizing the potential for a collective movement of change. “It was three different organizations working for three different causes and still the causes are interconnected. It is important because it is like parts of the body with one soul. That body is mother India,” said Dr. Vaswani Rohini (TFI, Pune, 3rd grade).

The Fellows came from all over India to share, re-connect, and re-charge at the  Gujarat Vidyapeth campus in Ahmedabad.  The October 2009 workshop consistently built upon the theme of the power of the individual, highlighting that the Indicorps experience as a transformative interplay between personal growth and societal progress.

In our text-based dialogues, Fellows and staff discussed a speech by David Foster Wallace which encouraged the idea of recognizing the world beyond oneself: “The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline… to truly care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over.”

In late January, the Fellows will head to Ralegan Siddhi in Maharashtra for their second workshop. The next workshop will feature discussions of development issues and interaction with the architect of Ralegan Siddhi’s change, Anna Hazare. “In 1975, Ralegan Siddhi was just another drought prone, poverty stricken village. . . [D]ue to a strong, selfless, ethical and accountable leadership… Ralegan Siddhi is an outstanding example of holistic development and sustainable poverty reduction.”

Terry Levine, Indicorps Staff 2009-2010

After experiencing my first Diwali in India, I have come to appreciate the holiday’s three essential ingredients: firecrackers, pujas  and sweets.  While I enjoyed the first two, the taste of the third was left to my imagination.  For the month of October, I had given up all sweets, snacks and milk products.  “Why?!?” you might incredulously ask.  Fair question.

Upon leaving New York City, I renounced a life of self-absorption and debauchery in pursuit of something more modest in India, something more in line with the communities I would be serving as an international volunteer in the education sector.  Using the principle of “simple living,” I restricted myself to basic clothing and possessions, washing clothes by hand, cleaning my own space, consuming only what I needed to survive and maintain health, and keeping expenses to a bare minimum.  Despite turning several pieces of white clothing a dark shade of pink, simple living seemed doable, a welcome change of pace in fact.
But then I moved to Dharwad and discovered More – the Aditya Birla retail chain sent to bring me back to the dark side.  This fluorescent kingdom staffed by English-speaking Indians and filled with clean packages of food featuring the comforting labels of Western brands was planted just three doors down from my office.  Needless to say, I frequented the establishment quite often for overpriced cookies, candies and sugary drinks.  Upon returning to the office with a bag of goodies in hand, I would avert my eyes from my economically disadvantaged students who had most certainly noticed the buildup of plastic wrappers in the trash receptacles.

I was heading down this slippery slope when I came across a reading that outlined Mohandas K. Gandhi’s 11 Vows.  He writes, “Not to yield your soul to the conqueror means that you will refuse to do that which your conscience forbids you to do.”  I could not let myself be conquered by More, or the self-indulgent, consumer lifestyle that it represented.  But how to stay grounded in simple living in a city filled with temptations and comforts was going to be challenging.  I turned to Gandhi’s 11 Vows as my guide.

Ranging from the outward sparshbhavna – love for, and service of, the whole world, to the inward brachmacharya – control of all the organs of sense, Gandhi’s moral code of conduct seemed unrealistic and bordering on impossible in today’s society.  But, “What we need is faith,” Gandhi claims, “Our peace of mind increases in spite of suffering.”  And so, with 11 months to go in India, I pledged to uphold one Gandhian vow each month.  I hoped that by actually living Gandhi’s truth, I would learn to be a producer rather than a consumer in society, and maybe, just maybe, become the change I wished to see in the world.

October was the month of Aswada – control of the palate.  Maintaining a healthy, well-balanced diet is likely to be easy for many, but for someone with an intense, all-powerful sweet tooth in the month of Diwali, my birthday, and Gandhi’s birthday, this had disaster written all over it.  At first the task was fun… and then it wasn’t.  Denying myself sweets, snacks and milk products just made me want them more.  The peer pressure definitely didn’t help – watching others indulge set my salivary glands needlessly into overdrive.  Delicious treats kept randomly (and cruelly) appearing at home and in the office and it took every ounce of willpower to just take a whiff and move on.

But this wasn’t just an exercise of self-discipline; I also had to cope with the torture of exclusion.  In early October, I attended an engagement party and had to (politely) refuse the sweets, snacks and curd, which just left me with a sad little pile of rice and vegetable. I quickly realized the importance of food in cultivating a sense of community.  It was fundamental to the celebrations, and I could not properly partake.  Even occasions in the home and office when snacks were shared or chats were held over morning or afternoon chai, I was partially isolated from the others by my commitment to abstain from those items.  Of course, I explained the purpose of my diet restrictions, but the oath was perceived as bizarre or comical – why would an American in India want to adopt Gandhi’s 11 vows?!

Despite the immediate challenges, in retrospect, the long-term benefits of Gandhi’s philosophies.  It comes down to choice.  In October, I was making choices about what to eat.  Having food always at the forefront of my mind indirectly ensured that Gandhi was always at the forefront of my mind.  So, a hop, skip and a jump from Aswada, Gandhi was also influencing my choices of how to live, how to work and how to interact with others.

A windy day came when I needed clothespins to hang my laundry.  I could have easily stopped by More and purchased the clothespins with ease, but in that moment, I made a choice to take the more difficult, less English-friendly path and support a local business instead.  Although it took three hours, almost 20 General Stores and three stationery stores (apparently my pronunciation of “clothespins” sounds more like “pens”), I finally got what I needed and I didn’t have to resort to More to do it!

The impact of Gandhi’s 11 Vows in keeping my clean laundry from flying into dirty puddles may seem small, but this is just the first step.  If ever I find myself in a position of moral ambiguity, I will now know to ask myself, WWGD?  What Would Gandhi Do?

Geetha J. Mathews, Indicorps Fellow 2009

“Be kind to everyone you meet, for we are all struggling,” said Dr. Uri Herscher, the founder and executive director of the Skirball Cultural Center in Los Angeles, as he paraphrased Philo of Alexandria.

When asked his age, Uri states: “68 years from the date of my birth, but overall 3500 years old.”  When we honor our parents (and our ancestry), we lengthen our own lives.   Wisdom comes from recognizing that “life did not begin with your birth.”

Which makes turning 40 no big deal.  Traveling to America for November 2009 (my fortieth birthday), I had the honor of meeting Uri Herscher, Indicorps friends and family, and many other wise souls who helped me recalibrate my compass.  I was reminded that the Indicorps mission extends well beyond organizing an intensive one or two-year experience in India.  Indicorps is designed to connect us to the wholeness of life – present in all (irrespective of time) – through service.

I am grateful to have met so many alumni and have gotten a glimpse into their lives. There is something distinctly unique about our alumni.  I am awed and humbled to hear them speak about their experience.  Some like Shivana Naidoo (August 2004) continue to hold their Indicorps Fellowship as the barometer with which they measure other experiences.  Others like Komala Ramachandra (August 2003), for whom the Fellowship feels like a distant memory, draws courage from the experience as she tackles grassroots human rights issues in Oaxaca, Mexico. Linda Mani (August 2008) boldly stated that while her leadership in the past stemmed from a position or title, her Indicorps experience as a Malayalee in a Kannada-speaking project helped her dig deep to lead from within.

Individually and collectively, we have come a long way from our first nine-star fellowship class.  As Indicorps marks the completion of its 10th fellowship class in 2010 with deep self-reflection, we encourage you to join us by re-visiting that silo of strength you built up from your India experience.  Our compassion did not begin with a year of service.  You owe it to yourself (and the millions of people who have invested in you) to ensure that the energy you found in exploring your boundaries helps direct you in spreading compassion forward.

Roopal Shah, Indicorps Staff 2009-2010

As part of the Indicorps project development team, Pradyumna Gupta traveled 4,260 kilometers (2,647 miles) in two weeks.  Pradyumna’s journey led from Ahmedabad, Gujarat to Angol, Andhra Pradesh, onward to 3 locations in Orissa, and back to home-base in Ahmedabad in less  than two weeks. Pradyumna met dozens of people and created 3 projects for the August 2010 fellowship cycle.

Project Development is an essential part of Indicorps fellowship process. Travelling to different corners of India and meeting with a diverse range of individuals and groups contributing to the development of India is a powerful experience. What makes this journey even more powerful is the opportunity to spread inspiration and share stories and experiences with everyone, from prospective applicants to staff members in Ahmedabad.

The process starts with a search for organizations focused on grassroots development in India. A key trait for a prospective partner organization is the organization’s philosophy of service. With each prospective partner organization, we spend two to three days in the field, understanding their activities and approach, and attempt to assess their openness to inculcating a culture of service in today’s youth. Projects range from public health to education to micro-enterprise.

For the August 2010-11 Fellowship cycle, we have more than 40 Fellowship projects spread across the length and breadth of the country, from Uttrakhand to Jharkhand, Orissa to Karnataka.  For more information on this year’s projects, please visit apply.indicorps.org.

Prerna Seth, Indicorps Fellow 2008, Staff 2009-2010