The Story Of Jai

Bali, 15 Years Later

Jai has lived on the streets of Bali for over 15 years. Most people pass him by without a second thought—just another face hardened by time and sun. But there’s something different about Jai. Something you feel before he speaks. A sense of presence, like he’s always watching, always aware.

He's been through more than most people could imagine. He told us, quietly, that he’s “killed in this.” Not in the way you might think—not with weapons or violence—but in spirit. Over the years, he buried parts of himself just to survive. The dreams, the hope, the man he used to be. He called it “the living tree.” And at some point, he let it go. He buried it.

But something about today was different.

Today, he saw us.

He didn’t ask for anything. He just watched. Calm, alert—like a guard at a gate. It was as if he knew we were coming. And in that moment, we knew we were supposed to bless him. Not just with money. Not just with water. But with presence. With dignity.

We sat with him, spoke with him, and reminded him: he’s not invisible.

That was when he said something that stuck with me.

“I lost the living one… but maybe it’s not too late to find it again.”

There was a spark in his eyes. A shift. You could feel the weight lift, even if only slightly. In that moment, he wasn’t just a homeless man. He was Jai—the man who survived. The man who is still standing after fifteen years. The man who once buried the living tree… and just maybe, is ready to let it grow again.

This is what it’s about.
Not saving people.
Just seeing them.

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