I want to take you to India. And I’m going to show you the bits that tourists never see. We won’t go to the Taj Mahal or the magnificent Goan Beaches, but you will see things of great beauty. Firstly, let’s take a moment to visit the city of Jaipur, an ancient, crowded metropolis they call “the Pink City”.

There, down a dusty street we come upon a small concrete house, tucked against a line of other ramshackle houses, all strung with wires. As we go inside, it takes a while for our eyes to adjust to the dimness. Then, in the corner of the room behind a spinning wheel, we see a boy polishing something.

Rubies, we’re told. Little crystals of aluminium oxide with traces of chromium, in hardness, second only to diamond…yet that’s not the real gem here.

The boy must be about seven. His fragile frame shows signs of malnutrition. He lives and works here every day, in exploitation second only to slavery.

He’s the real gem here. We’re told his story: his parents were so poor they signed over their most precious possession – this child before us – to a businessman far away. Now, for nine or 10 hours a day, he polishes rubies. He brings a sparkle of red to a rock, while the sparkle of his own childhood is dulled. No rich flash of joy for him. Just tiny fingertips, rubbed raw by the hot abrasion of metal on crystal…and the burning friction of poverty on youth.

So where’s the beauty in this scene? You might ask.

And I’ll ask you two questions in return: How much is a childhood worth? And does this challenge the state of your heart?

It’s a new day, and we’re off to see a slum on the outskirts of Jaipur. This region was once home to India’s royalty. In the slum we don’t see signs of that though. We walk down a rubbish-strewn dusty lane. There’s water and muck trickling through that you don’t even want to look at. Children are all around, running, skipping and jumping through the filth.

We reach a doorway and go inside. In a tiny, dirty room three boys sew golden thread into the thin red cotton of a sari. The fabric is stretched out tight on a simple wooden frame. They're working harder than you’ve ever seen young boys work. Their fingers move faster than you can follow – like the needle on a sewing machine. And they’re sewing with more subtle skill, swiftness and certainty than you'd expect from a seasoned seamstress in Australia. This sari is exquisite. The gold thread catches the light in a way that tells you these boys could never afford it.

The beauty? You ask is it the sari?

My question, I reply: Where’s the line between junior apprenticeships and child labour? Is your heart getting stretched out of shape?

The final day, and we’re heading for a drop-in centre. Among the throng of ladies and their children sitting on the floor, I lock eyes with a baby girl. She’s cradled in her mother’s arms, all eight months of loveliness and smiles. Her eyes are chocolate brown, and I reach out a hand to stroke her head. It’s warm. Hot, in fact. Hotter than the midday sun beating down outside. It burns through your composure and I suddenly wonder, why is she here? What is this drop-in centre? It’s a euphemism, we’re told frankly by a softly-spoken care worker. It’s because of the stigma that HIV and AIDS brings.

Who has AIDS – the mother or this child? Where is the beauty in such suffering?

And I answer: she burns with the will to live. Is your heart ablaze too?

It’s time to go home. I have a long plane trip ahead of me – and I’ll need every single kilometre to reflect on what I’ve seen. In fact, the truth is, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing since I returned from my trip to India in October with World Vision Australia. I saw these exact scenes, and I have spent every day since wrestling with these same questions. As a poet, I can tell you I’m not usually in the business of giving answers. But since India, I’ve needed some.

Thankfully, I’ve found them. I’d like to share them with you because they hold the key to seeing the beauty of India. Clicking on child labour, child trafficking and HIV and AIDS , what you’ll see is more beautiful than the Taj Mahal and the Goan beaches at sunset.

On the page about child labour , you’ll see the three needle-working boys in a new light. You’ll see that while they might be earning money to help their families, they shouldn't be working at all. They should be at school, being educated. World Vision is working to make that happen.

When you read more about child trafficking , you’ll remember the little boy in his gem-polishing workshop. You’ll see that World Vision is rescuing children even beyond the reach of child sponsorship, challenging traffickers and reuniting the victims with their families.

And finally, as you investigate the work of World Vision among people living with HIV and AIDS, you’ll understand why this area is a priority. In India, World Vision’s team are not just making sure parents have access to retroviral medications, or that their children are getting enough nutrition. You’ll see that “drop-in centre” is more than a euphemism about getting help for a disease; it’s a centre of hope. It’s a loving hug for a lonely mum and a meal for a hungry child. And above all, it’s a chance of life for a beautiful baby girl with brown eyes.These are the answers I have so far. They’re all work-in-progress, because the fight against poverty is still a work in progress too. What’s important is that we keep putting one foot in front of the other to make a difference and be the difference in our world.

For me, India is a journey I’m so grateful to have made. I thought I’d be faced with endless sorrow and suffering. Instead I found myself moved by the resilience and resourcefulness of people, despite their poverty. And inspired by the change that even the simplest of actions can bring: coloured pencils so a child can draw and write, a word of advice for a family about child trafficking, a short lesson on HIV prevention…

Above all, I’ve seen hope. I saw it in the infectious smiles of slum kids, and on the faces of each World Vision staff member working with sleeves rolled up. There’s hope in the programs they run to change attitudes and lives, and I have hope today too. This hope is what you’d see if you’d come with me to India. Thank you for taking a moment to imagine that you had.