Yoga Without Borders – Deborah Porter’s Story
I want to share my story — a story of hope, connection, and transformation.
It began the way many life-changing things begin: quietly, internally… with a simple decision and a racing heart.
A leap of faith
Something in me nudged — not loudly, not dramatically, just persistently — apply. So I did.
I remember the exact moment I pressed “send” on my application for the Yoga Without Borders Pilot Program at Dau Dayal Girls School in Firozabad, India. My stomach fluttered with nerves, but underneath that was something deeper and steadier: a sense that I was saying yes to a calling.
Not only a chance to share yoga, but an invitation to be stretched, challenged, humbled — and changed.
I was honoured to be selected as a volunteer alongside Addie Gains, a fellow teacher and yoga instructor from the USA, for this inaugural global initiative supporting the girls of Dau Dayal Girls School. Yoga Without Borders is a collaboration between Rainbow Kids Yoga, Yoga Gives Back, and Edu GIRLS — a partnership built around education, empowerment, and meaningful connection.
This work continues a legacy that runs deep. Mala, the great-granddaughter of Shri S. G. Chandra — a renowned industrialist and philanthropist who championed women’s education in Northern India — carries that vision forward with unmistakable passion.
Dau Dayal Girls Inter College Society, registered under the Societies Act of 1860, is a non-profit charitable organisation dedicated to the upliftment of women through education. The mission isn’t abstract. You feel it in the place — in the faces of the girls, in the way the school holds them, and in the opportunities it insists they deserve.
Preparing for the journey
Travelling alone wasn’t new to me. I had done it back in 1994 at age 26 — before mobile phones, before instant maps, before messages that arrive in seconds.
But the world is different now. This time, technology was my guide… and somehow that didn’t erase the anxiety.
As departure day approached, the nerves rose. Then my e-Visa arrived, and I exhaled. A small thing on paper, but emotionally it felt like a door swinging open.
And suddenly, I was on my way to India.
Gurugram: the first soft landing
There is something deeply reassuring about being met at the airport by someone who already belongs to the story.
Sanjay — a driver connected to Mala’s family for years — greeted us in the swirl and intensity of Delhi. In a place that can feel huge and fast and unknown, that family-like presence, love and care grounded me immediately.
When we arrived at Mala’s family home, the sense of safety deepened.
Her sprightly 90-year-old mother, Shashi, welcomed us warmly, as did Mala’s brother, Dhirraj. Their hospitality wasn’t performative — it was practical, generous, thoughtful. Together with Mala, they made sure every detail was handled: travel, meals, lodging — even a bit of bonus sightseeing.
It’s the kind of welcome that doesn’t just make you comfortable.
It makes you feel connected.
First impressions: the school that meets you with honour
When we finally arrived at Dau Dayal Girls School, my excitement rose… and then I was overwhelmed.
We were greeted traditionally — a beautiful garland placed around our necks, and a red bindi pressed gently onto our foreheads. Such a simple act, and yet it carried so much meaning: You are welcome. You are respected. You belong here.
It is a moment I will never forget.
Our first meeting with the students and teachers was held in the lecture hall. We introduced ourselves using a simple PowerPoint — sharing where we live, our families, and features of our home country.
And from the start, we adopted a motto that became our compass:
“No problems, only solutions.”
Hospitality: love served three times a day
The hospitality was extraordinary.
The food was beyond wonderful, and the care was constant. Everyone was generous, warm, and surprisingly joyful. Our health and well-being were always top priority — we were asked repeatedly if we needed anything, and bottled water was purchased regularly. I also refilled my bottle with filtered kitchen water, using my own additional filter.
We lived inside a supportive bubble, guided by the Firozabad team and the teachers. Meals were prepared for us in the guest house. We were invited to teachers’ homes for dinner, but declined to avoid the risk of illness — and honestly, if word got out, we probably would’ve been lovingly overfed every night of the week.
And then there was the photo phenomenon.
Be prepared to be treated like royalty — and photographed like a celebrity. “Can I click your pic?” becomes a daily refrain. Even outside the school, tourists try to sneak selfies.
By day three I turned to Addie and said, “If I had a dollar for every photo taken of me, we’d be flying home in business class!”
Safety, the guest house, and a campus that feels like a village
The school campus is fully gated — enclosed by a solid brick and concrete perimeter wall — and guarded 24/7. The guest house, set inside the school grounds, became our home.
The campus is almost like a small village: two boarding houses, facilities for tertiary teacher training, and even a small working farm growing gooseberries, potatoes, mustard, and other seasonal crops.
It felt safe. It felt purposeful. It felt like a community.
November in Northern India: unexpectedly cool
Everyone warned me India would be unbearably hot.
But in November, the mornings in northern India were surprisingly cool — and I was grateful for my cardigans.
The children and staff seemed to feel the cold much more than I did, often looking overdressed to my Australian eyes… until I remembered their mornings: children leaving early, walking through slums to reach bus stops; teachers riding motorbikes through brisk air.
Their layers made perfect sense.
Teaching yoga: where the real story began
The school had lovely, colourful foam yoga mats, and we taught in both the outdoor garden area and the upstairs hall.
Regular classes were scheduled for half a day in the morning for the older girls at the main outer-city campus, and half a day on Monday afternoon for the younger girls. The younger city learners — who usually attended classes in the city — travelled by bus to the outer campus to join us.
Class numbers varied because many girls were required at home for domestic duties or to decorate bangles to supplement family income.
What moved me immediately was the care in the preparation: supplies for each lesson had been purchased before we arrived, so the girls could participate fully.
Addie, with more recent experience teaching yoga to adults, taught the older grades. I focused on the younger ones. We divided lessons evenly and kept teaching the same groups each week, which allowed real rapport to form — the kind where growth becomes visible.
For the younger grades, I brought in magic, songs, and imaginative play to make yoga accessible and fun. I used props like a magical wand and hat, musical instruments, small puppets… and, in my final round of lessons, a colourful parachute.
The younger city learners renamed Monday:
“Monday-Funday.”
Addie’s classes with the older students focused more on mindfulness, reflection, strength, balance, and teamwork — helping them channel energy into something steady and purposeful.
Together, the weeks developed a rhythm: joy, learning, connection — something the children began to look forward to.
Holidays are frequent in India, and when one interrupted our schedule, we used that day to teach yoga to the teachers instead. Missed classes were added later so the girls didn’t miss out.
It became a beautiful chance to connect with the staff, offer them breathwork tools, and watch their own playfulness and creativity emerge. They benefited too — calm, focus, relaxation — not as theory, but as felt experience.
And then the sweetest detail: the girls learned our routine — even our mat preferences.
I always used a blue mat. Addie used a purple mat, opposite me.
Soon, there were cheerful races to sit beside one of us, and occasionally, we had to gently separate two girls determined to share the same mat.
Language barriers… and the ways love translates
Dau Dayal is an English-medium school and actively encourages spoken English to broaden opportunities. Even so, every lesson came with language barriers.
So we adapted: slower speech, clear gestures, demonstrations first, and I even drew on basic sign language when needed.
Class teachers — and the gorgeous Himani — supported us by interpreting key words and phrases, helping with movement cues and more reflective content.
Keeping lesson flow consistent helped too. I often asked Addie to demonstrate a pose first, then the children. “First Addie Ma’am, then your turn” became a familiar rhythm.
Sometimes we had to ask ourselves: Have they ever encountered this concept before?
My favourite animal — the whale — was completely foreign to them. Even the sound of the ocean (for “ocean breath”) wasn’t something many had experienced. Visuals and audio became essential bridges.
The girls were incredible visual learners. The Rainbow Kids Animal Pose Cards quickly became a beloved part of my classes.
Addie and I also learned key Hindi words — and we learned fast that practical language matters. “Change” landed better than “swap.” “Belly” worked better than “stomach.”
Those tiny bridges made a surprisingly big difference.
And the girls’ feedback told us we were reaching something real:
- “Moving makes me think better.”
- “I am Dolly and I am feeling powerful.”
- “I’m feeling fresh.”
- “I’m feeling very relaxed.”
My favourite ritual was waiting at the doorway to farewell each child individually — a high five, heart hands, or a warm hug… sometimes all three.
In those seconds, you realise: connection doesn’t require perfect language. It requires presence.
Adjusting to difference: being helped, being humbled
India — or at least the community within the school — operates within a class system very different from what I’m used to in Australia.
At home, I do almost everything myself. So at first, I struggled with being constantly offered help.
Cleaners and helpers — many with minimal English — moved yoga mats, cleaned the guest house, and washed up after every meal.
Their quiet dedication humbled me.
Blackouts were common, but manageable. I kept a torch beside my bed. The gas cooktop meant we could still prepare meals. Shower pressure wasn’t strong, but the warm bucket shower was surprisingly effective — even comforting in its own way.
With just the two of us staying in the guest house, we developed simple routines: early breakfasts (usually scrambled eggs with vegetables), hand-washing clothes when needed, using the drying rack provided.
Small acts of self-sufficiency helped us feel grounded inside the unfamiliar.
The “Glass City”: beauty, smoke, and the cost of survival
Firozabad is often romanticised as India’s “Glass City,” famous for bangles — shimmering, delicate, dazzling.
But behind the sparkle is a sobering reality.
Glass factories dominate the landscape, chimneys pouring pollution into the air, leaving a permanent haze. Inside, men labour in dangerous conditions, carrying molten glass, ears wrapped in scarves to dull the roar of machinery.
And beyond the factories, the work continues in homes. Women and children decorate bangles for less than fifty cents per 365 pieces — a wage that speaks plainly of poverty and exploitation.
These bangles are sold worldwide, yet the artisans remain invisible.
Adding to the paradox: nearly 70% of glass bottles produced in Firozabad are destined for alcohol exports. Global desire — for fashion and liquor — fuels an industry that leaves environmental damage and human hardship in its wake.
This survival economy affects schooling too. Girls miss classes because they are needed at home. Many have raspy voices, likely from constant exposure to fumes and pollution.
And still… they arrived joyful. Eager. Bright-eyed.
That contrast stays with you.
It reminds you yoga is not “just poses.”
Here, yoga becomes hope. Healing. Empowerment.
A moment that changed what I wanted to give
One day, I noticed the worn shoes of a little girl.
Winter was approaching, and I imagined her walking home through slums in the cold.
That image lodged in my heart — and it sparked a simple, practical idea: shoes, and with remaining funds, socks and jumpers.
With the thoughtful coordination of the Firozabad team — Deepak, Pratiksha, and Saurab — the right sizes reached the students who needed them most. Their care ensured every pair went to the right child.
Final day: henna, a human mandala, and tears you don’t plan for
On our final teaching day, a few artistically gifted students offered to adorn us with henna designs — intimate, celebratory, and unexpectedly moving.
Then came our whole-school assembly.
We had planned it carefully, and it brought everyone together: hundreds of girls, teachers, staff — a culminating moment.
It ended in a human mandala, showcasing poses and breathwork learned over the weeks.
Watching hundreds of girls move and breathe together — in unison — was unforgettable.
As one of the first yoga instructors at the school, I wanted to begin a tradition that would outlive us.
So with the team’s support, we planted a tree each on the school grounds — a living symbol of growth, resilience, and new beginnings.
I left feeling that part of me remains there — rooted in that soil, growing alongside the students.
The next big step: bringing the younger girls onto the main campus
As transformative as the yoga was, the wider mission continues.
There is a pressing need for the younger city learners to join their older sisters on the main campus.
To make this possible, Mala is leading an extraordinary campaign for girls’ education: she and two friends are travelling the length of India in a rickshaw — from the southern tip to the north — a 3,000 kilometre journey to raise funds for a new building dedicated to junior classrooms.
That new space will allow younger girls to learn safely and peacefully alongside their older peers — creating continuity, stability, and opportunity.
EDUCATE HER TODAY - TRANSFORM HER TOMORROW
Help Build a Free School for Girls in Firozabad, India
Our Mission
We’ve recently established Dau Dayal English-medium school in Firozabad, India — the only one offering free, high-quality education to girls from some of India’s poorest communities.
Already, over 400...
Read more and donate here. Forward this message to your contacts to help my campaign reach its goal!
Giving back… and being given back to
Supporting Yoga Gives Back allowed me to be part of a global movement uplifting girls through education and opportunity.
But Dau Dayal gave something back to me too: calm, belonging, gratitude — the kind that sinks in slowly, then stays.
My trip didn’t end when I left India.
As a Yoga Gives Back ambassador, I will continue raising funds to support women and children in India.
Because giving is never one-sided.
In sharing my knowledge and passion, I received something just as powerful:
The quiet joy of knowing small acts ripple outward — and create real change.
Closing
My leap of faith led me to a place where love, laughter, and learning transcended borders.
And for that, I am forever grateful.
Thank you.
Deb Porter 😊
Yoga Without Borders – Volunteer in India
Together, we’re creating lasting impact for girls from underprivileged backgrounds, supporting their emotional wellbeing, confidence, and connection through yoga. And we’re inviting you to be part of it.
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