Because India has been such a distant hope for me for so long it has really taken the full four weeks for my feet on the ground here to feel real. At times I look around and find myself completely stunned like I just got dropped in the middle of this unknown place, which is what it is for me. Not anything I could have read, watched, or heard from others could have described to me the India I have come to know. For this same reason I cannot presume my words will do that job for you. I can only hope that as I share about some of the things that have affected me you can experience a bit of the honesty I have discovered here.
I go on these very early morning walks with the oldest of the staff here. It is still dark when we go out but already the city is beginning to stir. We walk the streets out of the more quiet area our building is located and onto the main road. As we walk we pass a community of pitched tents beside the road. Some are already up and have small fires burning with pots balanced between bricks above but others remain faceless forms completely hidden by blankets as they continue to sleep. It is eerie to see in large quantities because as you look for their faces and find only the curves of a forehead, chin, and nose beneath a blanket it looks more like a row of corpse then it does of people’s beds. As I walk I wish I could be invisible to these people as I feel the weight of my steps in what is the very personal reality of their homes. I want to look and take it all in while at the same time wondering if it is insensitive to look on as if it is a sight to be seen because for them it is not, it is normalcy.
There is this one spot where every morning the same two children are playing. Their parents are always up and about doing something but this young girl, probably about five years old, and boy, maybe not yet two, sit and put their newly acquired energy from sleep right to use. The game seems different every morning but the laughing is the same. The little boy adores her, you can tell, and watches her every movement. Thus far in all I have seen I have come to see children as both the most vulnerable and most resilient part of the picture of poverty. I love being able to recognize theses two children’s faces and finding smiles on them every time.
There is this one other girl who I see often on this road we walk. She also must be not yet two. She has got these huge brown eyes and these wild curls all over head. The other morning she was standing on the edge of the road looking out. Her dress was only up over one shoulder and falling off the other side of her. It was not my place to walk up to her or be part of her morning routine but it was not easy to continue the walk past her small frame that morning and not want to find some tangible way to be more then a stranger.
The sun begins to rise and by the time our walk brings us back home Navi Mumbai’s day is in full swing. So ours begins as well.
I get to the houses of the girls either by walking, taking the bus, or riding on the back of a scooter. My times in transit are when I see the most and find myself trying to absorb a million things at once. I will see something as I speed by that I never get a second chance to reexamine. I am left with all these snapshots of India that I don’t get to observe beyond the one shot.
One thing that remains a constant in all these shots is the commitment with which people work. There is not a moment in my day when I am not surrounded by people racing the clock and pushing their limits in order to be as productive as they can. From my window I can see these two women who have been working all day to move this mountain of bricks form one side of a building around to another. They walk with a basket of bricks on their heads back and forth and have been doing this now for hours. They walk so poised and gracefully over an uneven gravel path with pounds of heavy weight pressing down on their necks and they manage all this while wearing saris.
I see men who are way past the age of an average American retirement carrying huge baskets of produce and setting up shop for the day on a busy corner. As I walk this busy corner children always come running up to me. They motion their hands to their mouth and I am left helpless as I do not know how to respond to such a sobering and real need. The other day this girl of about four came and solidly stood her ground in front of me. I have never felt as sick with myself as when I had to shake my head, smile, and then walk around her. When they stand so passionately in front of me or pinch the back of my arms as I walk away I realize what I must seem like to them, completely heartless to not help them. I try to look each child in the eye so that I can at least portray love in some form. I keep asking God to strengthen me in these moments when I realize the number of pulling hands and pleading eyes is too great for me to fix on my own. I am grateful for the women I am working with and that I can look at thirty beautiful faces every day of those who God has given a home and family through those willing to hear the cry of the orphan and the one in need.
With so much more to say I am going to end this very long and what could be a very depressing post with another photo of the girls at Ashasthan. Looking at poverty as a whole can be discouraging and wearing in every way, but when you realize the individuals that can be reached by selfless love you find you have a place in fixing the problem. I have heard it said a million times but I am finally grasping the meaning of all of this in knowing these girls and hearing what God has brought them out of. May He continue to bring in the workers and supply all the needs so that many more like these wonderful girls can be shown the love God has for them. Thank you for letting me share both the joys and heartaches of this trip for me. I am sustained by the grace of God and knowledge of His sovereignty over our helplessness.
