Rejection, the New Redirection
Each rejected item bears the potential for transformation
I firmly believe in the power of triggers to awaken our instincts. For example, being around my nephew awakens my maternal instincts, while visiting NGOs or participating in their activities stirs my empathetic instincts. On a personal level, NGO activities provide the highest surge of dopamine. This experience was an all-time high, when I visited the industry outlet of Goonj NGO.
I found myself in Delhi, standing before a modest red-brick building on a quiet street corner. The weathered structure, with its shuttered windows — some ajar, offering tantalizing glimpses of activity inside — seemed inviting. Accompanied by a large group led by a guide, I moved with eager curiosity, my eyes wide and my pace quickening to keep up with him, bombarding him with questions about everything I saw.
He answered with a casual air, as though he had addressed these inquiries countless times before, even in his sleep. Breathless from our brisk walk and animated conversation, I asked, “Will it be fun?” He halted dramatically, causing me to nearly stumble into him, and stared at me. Though I can’t read minds, I imagined he might be thinking either, “Who would even ask that about an NGO?” or “Wow, what a great question! Her interest is intriguing, inspiring, and amazing.” One can only dream. After a brief pause, he replied, “Not as fun as bungee jumping, but definitely more fun than most things.” I appreciated the exchange, enjoying the matching and reciprocation of energy.
We entered the first room, the segregation lot room. Here, clothes are washed, sanitized, dried, and sorted into two heaps. The first lot contains garments with stories — an ink stain from a child’s spill, a tear from a man’s chafed jeans, a woman’s faded top, a man’s zipper-less trousers. Each item, rejected for various reasons, bore the potential for transformation. At least the Goonj family knew better: Rejection is redirection. They envision thread work on ink spots to create flowers, patchwork to cover torn jeans, tie-dye for faded tops, and cutting trousers into shorts. This heap represented the reuse lot, brimming with countless stories of rejection.
I’ve experienced my fair share of mood swings with rejection, and from those experiences, I can assure you I’m a sore loser. Friends who have played board or video games with me can attest to this. To me, rejection feels like the worst kind of loss because the chances of a second attempt diminish rapidly when you’ve already given your sincerest attempt only to end with undesired results.
Returning to the NGO, I was impressed by the creativity and unwavering hope in the concept of redirection. The next room housed a massive heap of clothes, twice the size of the first, representing those beyond conventional repair. I could either stay and empathize or walk into the next room. Well, I just walked into the next room to see, within this space, fifteen types of artifacts being crafted from these discarded garments — patchwork quilts, toys, bags, hair accessories . . . This room, filled with the wonder of transformation, represented the recycle lot.
Indeed, where there is a will, there is a way; rejection should lead to redirection. Stories of rejection are often the most vivid and challenging, but they also offer the greatest opportunities for triumph. Fair enough to imagine, if one really desires to move on with life, one might as well adopt the best way to dealing with it.
I hope everyone chooses to stick around enough to witness this transformation in their silent story of struggle with rejection.
Well, the NGO guide was indeed accurate — deriving major answers from certain life experiences is more fun than most things — except maybe bungee jumping.
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