The Calcutta Diary, Part II

Wed, 8/26
Another long, but wonderful day with Subir and the GNCEM. First, we visited another day school. In each classroom, we handed out stickers and candy that we bought for the kids. Then the kids all came together in one room and sang songs for us in Hindi and English. We led them in ‘Father Abraham,’ which we also sang a handful of times yesterday. Then we shared our testimonies and prayed for the kids. We were welcomed with flowers and treated to tea and cookies.

We drove quite a distance away from downtown to visit the Girls’ Home. It is a very nice. The girls there are from the streets or the slums, and began their education at the Mobile Schools. They stay at the home, are fed 3 meals and 2 snacks per day, and their parents visit once per month. After we visited each of the classrooms, we had a lunch break there. We were offered coconut water straight from the coconut that they hacked down from a tree out back. It was a really nice gesture. The only problem: I hate coconut. I drank it anyway. Lunch was wonderful. As usual, the hospitality was ridiculously generous. I politely skipped out on the curry today, much to my stomach’s delight. After lunch, we had play time with the girls. We had brought them a bunch of little stress balls to play with and we had fun throwing them around. The girls put on a performance for us with songs and skits.
Onto the Boys’ Home. The kids were so excited when our vehicle drove up. I have been amazed at the honor shown to pastor Subir by his staff and the children, and the same shown to us. They call us “Auntie” and “Uncle”—terms of respect. The children are all very well-behaved. But boys will be boys. Tim and Wes thought it would be fun to play 2 v. 75 dodgeball with the stress balls…and it was fun. The kids loved it. Subir told us that the boys had been praying to God to give them one futbol (soccer ball) to play with. Wes brought them 10 soccer balls to keep. After lots of playing and testimony-sharing, we were treated to tea and cookies while the boys performed Bible skits and songs. They started to sing one particular song in Bengali and I thought I recognized it. ‘Oh yeah, I know this song in Korean!’ I remembered. So I sang along and translated it into English in my head. Our God is a really big God. And I’m reminded that He is sovereign over all the Earth. That evening, we attended another house fellowship. We taught a lesson from the book of Samuel, about David. Man judges by the external, but God knows our hearts so, 1) don’t judge appearances and 2) don’t try to fool God by looking good on the outside. Again, the people were passionate, the worship was wonderful, and the prayer requests were many. We were treated to dinner.

Thurs, 8/27
This morning, we attended “4 Soils” training conducted by the International Missions Board (IMB), and attended by ministry leaders from all over India. There were about 60 people there, 10 Westerners and 50 “nationals.” It was encouraging to see so many strong Christian men seeking His face. There were also a couple of women there. In talking with some IMB staffers, we learned that the Indian believers’ passion for Jesus is unmatched in the Western world, but that their vision planning, organizational skills, and logistics are lacking. So, the goal of the training was to put their passion to better use for the kingdom. My prayer is that the application of the concepts discussed in this training will glorify God in India like never before!
The three of us left at lunch time and went back to Matt & Shannon’s flat. After lunch, Shannon, Zeenut and I hailed a cab. I wore my salwar kameez. The plan was to visit a Muslim shrine, a mazar. We wanted to go and pray for the women who had come to the mazar for various needs. Shannon told me the Quran tells Muslims that if you pray in the name of Isa (Jesus), Allah (God) hears your prayer. So, even though Islam and Christianity are extremely different when it comes to believing in Jesus as Messiah, it can’t hurt to go and pray for these women. Zeenut’s mom, Anita, has visited a different mazar, and the women have approached her asking for help and for prayer. When Anita said she would pray for them in the name of Jesus, they generally welcomed it. We did not have such a positive experience.

First, my pants ripped as I got out of the cab. They do not make pants for 6’ tall women (or men) here. As we walked up to the shrine, the entry was chaotic because of the crowd of beggars who were strategically placed. During Ramadan, the holy month, Muslims traditionally give more alms. Begging in India is a professional business. Often, that means that the kids who approach you have been forced into it by parents who are close by with watchful eyes. Or that sickly-looking babies get passed around by different women who hope to play the starving mother card. It is a really sad reality, one that is often perpetuated by tourists. I just tried to get to the steps of the mazar, which seemed to be the safe zone, but got a butt-grab from a homeless man along the way. This is something I was warned about, but it still made me upset. It was somewhat unnerving to leave our shoes outside for fear that they may be stolen.

The imam seemed suspicious of us as soon as we entered. That’s understandable, I suppose, since two of us were Westerners and the three of us together did not look very Muslim. Apparently, I did not have my head wrapped properly because the imam pointed out an exposed portion of my shoulders. So Zeenut had to re-situate my dupati before we were allowed in. Once inside, we weren’t permitted to enter the main room where the actual saint is buried. The mazar in its entirety was very small, and the heaviness in there was overwhelming. It seemed like a dark, sad place. What was more hopeless to me was that people were praying to a dead guy who was declared a saint by some other guy who’s probably dead by now.

We were surprised to find lots of men in there, but only one woman. Even so, we knelt down and commenced prayer. Though I hadn’t thought of it until then, I was quickly reminded of the state of my knees. My prayers for the Muslim women of that community did not drown out the pain of my aching joints. So, reluctantly, I stood, thinking I would just go outside and pray from there. Yeah…right. This is India, not America. There’s no option to stand peacefully on the sidewalk, especially not for me. Immediately, I was surrounded by a swarm of beggars. I just stood my ground, not making eye contact, and truthfully shrugged my shoulders to indicate that I didn’t have my wallet on me. After a moment, the adults went to find someone else. The kids were relentless. It hit me very hard when I finally looked at their faces and recognized several of them from the Mobile School on Tuesday. I gave up on the idea of praying from out there because the gawking passers-by were too distracting. A 6’ tall Western girl wearing a bright orange Hindu costume—I didn’t stand a chance.

Even though it seemed like I stood out there for an eternity, it was only about 10 minutes. I was expecting Shannon & Zeenut to be inside for an hour, maybe two. But they were actually asked by the imam to leave. He made up some excuse about how ladies could not stay long during Ramadan. More likely, it was a “skin thing.” Instead, we prayer-walked around the neighborhood. Then Shannon bought a burka at the bazaar so she would be covered, literally, for next time. She and Zeenut will go to a bigger shrine next time where they are less noticeable.
Since we were in the area, they took me to see Mother Theresa’s house (Her grave is pictured above). It was interesting. Then we got a cab home. I went to Matt & Shannon’s a while longer and played with the girls. Then they insisted that I try their favorite dinner food. So we went to Rhamania restaurant and ordered “chicken rolls.” They were so good! When I got home to Don and Dale’s flat, they had ordered Dominoes…dinner #2 :)