A day at PACE center

It was morning when Ben and I arrived at the PACE construction center in Ahmadnagar. The center was nestled comfortably in the hills on the outskirts of the small city.

Soon after arrival, we were led around the center by the center head, Divakar-ji. We stepped outside to the practical yard where students concentrated on their work: bending support bars, laying lime foundation, placing bricks in proper formation. Eyes casually gazed at the foreign visitors before returning to the work at hand. Ben and I followed Divakar-ji out of the yard and into some classrooms as he explained the history of the center, the particulars of the construction course, and the students’ backgrounds and goals. All the while, the overcast sky hung like a grey blanket above us, never revealing any patches of blue, only occasionally allowing a peep of sunshine to burst through.

After lunch, Ben and I left to see some of the other PACE centers around the area. When we returned to the construction center in the afternoon, the students had finished their instruction for the day and were self-studying, lounging in the dormitory, working out, or otherwise milling around. Ben and I introduced ourselves to the students, shook hands all around. After some small talk, a group of students who were planning to walk up a local hill invited us to tag along.

As we walked up the hill, we filled the air with excited chattering. One student promised to teach me Marathi if I taught him English, so as we hiked up we pointed to random things and named them in our respective languages. Others told me about their backgrounds: some had finished eighth standard, one actually had a bachelor’s in civil engineering but did not receive any practical training in college, another was already a 40-year-old construction worker but had come to improve his skills. Despite their differences in background, all the students were comfortable friends, even horsing around as we walked up the hill.

For some time, we all stood as the students were told me about their plans for the future: to move together to Pune or Mumbai; to work their way up to become contractors; to become successful in the big city.

After some time, we stood. As dusk deepened, our guides walked Ben and I back to our lodgings, located only a three-minute walk from the rest of the center. I was surprised by how quickly the darkness settled; by the time we crossed the threshold of the illuminated center, the path had become almost completely black.

As we stepped our way through the darkness, one of the students in our group invited Ben and me to go out walking with them tomorrow morning at 6 a.m. I declined, but observed that the surrounding area must be beautiful to explore.

He took a deep breath and agreed. “The air is clean out here, and I like walking around the hills when everything is still quiet.”

“When you return to the city,” I said, turning towards his dark silhouette, “it won’t be like that. There’s certainly not that much open space, or quietness, or clean air.” I couldn’t see his face in the gloom, but I could hear the ambivalence in his sigh. We walked the rest of the way in silence.

When we reached the room, all of us said our goodbyes, shook hands all around. Ben and I watched the students disappear into the night before turning into our room. And as the silent night settled, we made our ways to our respective beds: to sleep, to dream, to wait expectantly for a new day.