Reflections

Sometimes being in India feels like a dream. Everything around me is strange and beautiful: vividly-coloured saris, thatched roofs, dry papery palm leaves rattling in the wind, dusty stone floors, the crowing of roosters, cows grazing under trees, buses and rickshaws bumbling down the road, homes painted in bright colours, coconut shells, banana tree gardens, the distant rumble of the train, brown skinned and black-haired people, goats herded down the path, barking dogs, red-capped storks flying overhead, the ringing of the school bell, the chaos of the city, the laughter of children …

I’ve been at the Children's Home now for a little over two weeks. I’ve come to love this place so much! Here are some of my reflections.

Most people are very friendly – men, women, children alike, they all wave and smile as they pass by (walking, in buses, rickshaws or on motorcycles). The one narrow lane that winds through the compound and the village is constantly an avenue of traffic. I’ve gotten used to stepping off the road as a motorcycle careens past, honking loudly. It is not an uncommon sight to see a herd of goats or cows as pedestrians! 

There are both Christian and Hindu people in the area. The Christians gather twice a week in the assembly building for service. Some Christians who own cars have Bible verses painted on the back windows of their vehicles. Some people wear earmuffs at night because it is “cold”!

People refer to each other based on the relationship between them:

Aca – older sister
Anin – older brother
Thangachi – younger sister
Thambi – younger brother

Elders can be referred to as "Uncle" or "Aunty." 

Many houses here in Tamil Nadu are painted in vivid colours – periwinkle is seen often, as well as lavendar, different shades of pink, lemon yellow, mustard yellow, orange, lime green, and royal blue. The houses are upright and “boxy” with ornate designs along the porch and on the bars of the windows. There is usually a roof you can climb up to. Low-class houses range from thatched roof cottages to utter shacks – small, decrepit, and filthy, with very low doors. Everything is clumped together: garbage piles next to gardens, dirty narrow walkways squeezed between homes. 

A few times I’ve gone walking into the village. The first time I went, a group of children met me along the road. One of them was named Mounika, a bright-eyed girl in the eighth standard. She introduced me to her family and neighbours, and of course, brought me a chair to sit on. Soon a little crowd had gathered, and before I knew it, I was singing worship songs for them in English. In turn, some of the children sang for me in Tamil. It was so humbling to see how much they were delighted by the simple songs. 

Mounika and some of the other children took me on a tour of the village. We walked through some fields of corn, and a garden of yellow and orange flowers. One little girl who came with us was named Dhivya. At first I thought she was about two-years old because she looked like a toddler, but I found out she's actually seven! It was hot and her feet were sore from walking, so I picked her up to carry her. Instantly I knew something was not right; I felt something hit against me as I took her into my arms. When I looked down I noticed that she had a huge lump on her chest, which protruded quite largely from her body. Somehow Mounika communicated to me in broken English that Dhivya did not grow properly and her inner organs are too big for her body. That lump was her heart!

Mounika took me into her home. The small dwelling was comprised of two cramped rooms: a kitchen (with only one shelf – the rest of the pots, pans and dishes were piled against the wall on the floor) and a living room/bedroom. When sleeping, the family of six spread their mats on the floor. There was one cabinet for all their clothes and a few shelves for the rest of their possessions. Oddly enough, they had a television and some video games. On the walls of the humble home were Bible verses. I was happy to discover they are a Christian family and the parents are missionaries. Mounika introduced me to her mother, a lovely lady with joyful eyes. It amazed me to see how little they have, and yet how content and peaceful they are in the Lord.

Indians live simply. And I think the way they live makes so much more sense than the way we do in rich, comfortable Canada. Food is prepared by hand, clothes are washed by hand. Everything is used: banana leaves for plates (usually only for guests though), dried palm tree leaves for firewood, coconut milk for breakfast, etc. 

The food is very different, but I like it a lot! For breakfast Sornakumari makes something called idli, which are small, thick pancake type things, eaten with coconut chutney. Lunch is always rice with some kind of curry (usually vegetable, and occasionally mutton or chicken). Supper is chapatti (flatbread) with some kind of sauce, or dosai, a very thin, crispy pancake, also served with chutney. It is all very good, though sometimes a little spicy.

Indians seem to always be late. “Indian time” often means arriving an hour later than expected. 

Buses are hot and crowded. Fare is 5 rupees. You are lucky if you get a seat. 

S--- (the nearest city to the village) is very hot, crowded and busy. I much prefer the open air of the country. Like Bangalore and Salem, everything is clumped together along narrow streets. I have found very little beauty in S---; it's a dirty, dusty city with sellers everywhere. 

Amma first took me to the city, so we could go to the sari shop. I had been so excited to wear Indian clothes, but when shopping time came, I kept thinking of the hostel girls with their banged-up boxes of old clothes. The young ladies who worked in the shop were delighted to help me, and I found it a bit overwhelming – so so so many colours and fabrics, and so many pairs of eyes watching to see which ones I would choose! 

I will say that saris are very beautiful (and actually quite comfortable). They are made of three separate pieces: a blouse, lining skirt and overlay. The overlay is wrapped around you in a very specific way, with different folds. I am trying to learn how to put it on myself, so Amma doesn’t have to help me get dressed everyday, but it’s very tricky business! The salwar, or chudidar, is easier to wear: it’s a long shirt, with billowy pants, and a scarf. All the women wear a sari or salwar (usually the salwar is for younger women and girls) and the men wear shirts, pants, or a dhoti, the towel-like skirt I described before.

The countryside is breathtaking. One road leading out of CMML takes you through huge fields where the laborers work. Flat, yellow grasses, sometimes a lone tree, and in the distance there are huge towering palms and mountains on the border of Kerala. The mountains are like hazy shadows against the sky; sometimes you wonder if they are really there at all. 

Banana trees grow in gardens, hundreds of them. They have beautiful big, spreading green leaves which fan upward from a thick yellowish-brown trunk. There are vapour trees, jackfruit trees, mango trees and papaya trees.

The area is very rural, with many farmers. Everyday, women are laying out grain of some kind on the roads and beating it with a stick, or sifting it in shallow baskets. Some people own hundreds of chickens, which are kept in long, low buildings.

Several days ago, I attended an Indian wedding with the family. It was definitely an interesting experience. The drive to Tenkasi was so beautiful, I can hardly even describe it. Coming out of our village, the landscape changed from dry and flat, to green and lush as we traveled farther south. Sometimes we drove past huge green paddy fields edged with palm trees. Sometimes trees hung beautifully over the road like an archway. 

My words cannot describe the beauty … it was just so gorgeous! Lush greenery everywhere: moss, banyan trees, thick forests of palm trees, winding streams, sparkling lakes, paddy fields as far as the eye can see, and the mountains … the mountains actually took my breath away! They towered up so huge and majestic against the rolling green hills. I found myself so full of praise to my God who made all of this. His glory really does extend to the ends of the earth.

“How many are Your works, O Lord! In wisdom You made them all; the earth is full of Your creatures” (Psalm 104:24).

Sometimes we passed through different villages and towns. In one village there was Hindu music playing over speakers. For the first time, I saw some worshipers bowing down to idols, and others sitting on mats inside a temple, arranging flower necklaces for the gods. Everyone was up and about and celebrating, because it was Republic Day (when India became an independent nation).

Tenkasi is a lovely little town, less busy, less crowded, cleaner and more beautiful than S---. The wedding was held in a huge marriage hall, which was somewhat similar to the one we used for camp meeting in Salem. Outside the hall hung a huge banner with the engagement picture of the bride and groom. We walked up some stairs and were greeted by relatives of the bride who showed us in. On the floor in the entryway was a large bowl filled with flowers, and around it, more flowers shaped into a design. We were served breakfast on banana leaves in a large room with long tables. After breakfast, everyone washed and went upstairs. In the hall, one aisle separated chairs, facing a platform. The platform was decorated with flowers, and in huge letters was printed: SHANKAR WEDS ROSELIN and the date. In the middle of the platform was a huge, ornate couch, where the couple sat during the ceremony.

As I said before, Indian time means things start very late. The wedding was supposed to begin at 10:00 and actually started at 11:15. A very loud band was playing music with huge booming drums that seemed to shake the entire building. The groom stood at the front with the best man and two pastors (one to speak Tamil and the other English). Roselin came in with her father and maid of honour. She wore a fancy red and orange sari, white veil, and loads of gold jewelry. (Uncle Sornaraj later told me that her parents spent $25 000 on the jewelry!) Shankar was also loaded down with jewelry and both wore wreaths of flowers around their necks. Neither of them smiled much during the ceremony (but I don’t think it was because they were unhappy) and there was no “kiss the bride.” The cake cutting happened on the stage, right after the signing of the registry. 

The one thing that is really different about Indian marriages is that they are arranged. Shankar and Roselin had only met a few times I think, before they were engaged. There is so much of Indian culture that I love, but there are things that I just can’t understand, such as having an arranged marriage. 

All I am seeing is very eye-opening: the poverty, the customs, the way of life, the language, the people. You think they mean things when they don’t, you think they are waving, but they are telling you to come. It is a completely unfamiliar place. 

Sometimes it is hard to believe that I’m actually on the other side of the world. So much of daily life has become "normal" to me now, yet every so often something surprises me and I realize I'm a stranger in a strange land.

These are just some of my thoughts and reflections about life in India so far. I want to write all about working in the hostel with the girls, but this post is too long already, so I will close here.

God bless you, and I’m thinking of you all in my prayers!

~ Gracie