A First Visit, A New Beginning
As a post-graduate student from an upper-middle-class family, I was surrounded by comfort and security that I grew up to take for granted. Everything I needed, from education to basic amenities, was always within reach. But when I joined Project Baala as part of my SUPA program, many things changed. My assignment to go to a slum, located in Noida’s Sector 71, became a sudden jolt to this reality I had comfortably built. I had never been to a slum before, so it felt like a big leap into the unknown.
The day started like any other activity, with a mix of excitement and nervousness as I prepared to help deliver a workshop on menstrual health awareness. We were to talk to women and young girls of the slum, addressing an issue that has been largely ignored — lack of proper menstrual health education and access to reusable sanitary pads. As a child, I had never thought twice about menstrual hygiene; it was simply part of growing up.
When I arrived, the sight that greeted me left me with a strange sense of discomfort. The narrow lanes, muddy paths, the pungent smells — everything around me felt unfamiliar.
People lived crammed in small, poorly constructed homes. I’ll admit it, my first thoughts were, I want to go back, this is not where people should be living. The constant barking of stray dogs, children running around barefoot with dirty faces, and the general disarray felt overwhelming. But as we walked further into the community and started interacting with the women and children, I was embarrassed by my thoughts.
These women didn’t just speak about hardships — they spoke of dreams. Their children were a source of pride, their laughter was genuine, and despite everything, they maintained a sense of dignity I had not anticipated. Yes, they faced challenges — challenges that none of us could comprehend. But beneath the layers of poverty, I saw human beings not much different from myself. They were simply fighting a different fight, but they were fighting with the same hopes and desires that every human being has.
As the workshop went on, we taught the women and girls how to use reusable sanitary pads, and I could see in their eyes how important it was, not only to receive better health options but to be empowered in their basic bodily functions — something that had always been treated as shameful or taboo.
The real turning point in my experience, however, came when I witnessed the children in the community. They had been sneaking around, laughing mischievously as they made off with our refreshments. They would snatch a sandwich and run away, then peer from a corner and smile as if they had just stolen the world. To them, that sandwich wasn’t just food — it was a luxury.
As we packed up and prepared to leave, the children who had been so mischievous earlier gathered around, waving their hands in the air. Then, one by one, started blowing us flying kisses. I couldn’t help but smile, my heart full from the experience of the day.
It wasn’t just a slum anymore. It was home to lives that were as full of possibility as any middle-class existence I had known. By the end of that day, I had learned something priceless: it’s easy to judge, but it’s more meaningful to empathize, understand, and offer the help that you can.
I hope that we, as people with the privilege to create change, can begin to see those we once ignored not as problems, but as a vital part of our human family. There’s a lot we can learn, if only we take the time to really see.
About the Author
Rhea Agarwal is a PGDM student from XIME, currently exploring the intersection of social impact and business. Passionate about people and community, she’s all about learning from diverse experiences and using that knowledge to make a real difference.
