Traveling to India at least once every two years serves as a significant reality check, especially to an Indian girl like me, who grew up in the United States. For the past 17 years, I have visited India, each time becoming increasingly more aware of the country’s poverty, while, at the same time, understanding more of its industrial growth. While India’s growth makes it an economic and political player to watch in the coming decades, the country remains desperately poor. Almost a quarter of India’s 1.1 billion people live on less than $1 a day; 700 million more live on less than $2 a day.

India is a country full of contradictory atmospheres: modernity and antiquity, purity and contamination, prosperity and poverty. Of course, it is widely known that technology in India is thriving and real estate construction is booming. Watching TV on personal cell phones at bus stops is something you don’t see in New York every day, yet is common on the streets of India. But there are also those impoverished areas that stick in my mind.

When I walked down the streets, I saw the same sight – people living on polluted streets, using rags for clothes and eating scraps for food. Following every trip to India, I came home confused, with a shattered image of humanity and questions about people who are too unfortunate to live. But my last trip to India this past summer utterly transformed this long-lasting impression.

This time, I witnessed one of the most remarkable social and human development experiments ever known to mankind: The Sulabh International Movement, which strives to restore the dignity and rights of the most disadvantaged people in India.

Thanks to Dr. Bindeshwar Pathak, founder of this organization, and his followers, Sulabh has given hope to the deep-seated untouchable life in India. With its integrative approach to the problem, it has succeeded in allowing numerous “scavengers” and their children to obtain higher education. Their English Medium Public School sparks an overflow of change and development through the fountain of education. I spent the majority of my time at this public school, where I witnessed the power behind the Sulabh Movement.

I was shocked when I learned that about two-thirds of the children had come from scavenger households. Listening to 20 tenth-graders talk in fluent English would have led me to guess that each child had come from a somewhat wealthy family. They spoke to me with absolutely no problem, willing to answer any question I had. In fact, they were even more aware of English grammar than I was.

Our countless conversations ranged from school, Disney World and George Bush, to sports, fashions and more. Each child had his or her own opinion and was unafraid to share it.

Their study habits caused a strong feeling of guilt in me. It was amazing to see how much value they placed on education. To hear about how much they studied and how well they did, one would never think so many of them came from families who are socio-economically disadvantaged and illiterate. I was stunned to hear that, as a junior in a New York high school at the time, I was learning the same concepts in chemistry that they were. Not only do those children excel in academics, but they also are extremely knowledgeable on issues related to personal hygiene, health and sanitation. And whenever I spoke to them, they listened to me with such an honest and unguarded mind that I felt comfortable speaking about any matter whatsoever.

And despite their different social and economic backgrounds, not one person was left out. Each student is required to bring his or her own lunch; the philosophy behind this is to encourage sharing. Seeing all the children swap rotis (sandwiches) and share drinks, proved to me that i>harijan (scavenger) communities are on their way to being eliminated.

And to think, I only spent time with one class.