Day 14 - Delhi Belly (Body and Soul)

Things have slowed down significantly since coming back from Hisar.  I'm finally fully adjusted to the time change, and subsequently, I now have no problem sleeping in if I wanted to or if I could, which is both convenient and inconvenient at the same time; it feels nice to sleep in some but mornings are also the best time to pray, especially here. 

The heat has lessened in intensity, which is a plus; we've even had some rain in the past few days, and I was also able to witness a spectacular lightning storm from our rooftop in Delhi. Some of the bolts of lightning I saw were so brilliant and felt so close when they struck that I was instinctively forced to take a few steps back for fear of my life - seriously. It was beautiful and inspiring.  I realize now standing there on the rooftop in the middle of a lightning storm probably wasn't the wisest idea - oh well - but I don't get to see many lightning storms in California, so I thought I would take full advantage of the situation, whether that meant death or not. 

Two nights ago I started feeling a little ill, and by the morning after I had been properly introduced to Delhi Belly. And let me tell you, it's not very friendly. I'm sure you can deduce yourself what the symptoms of Delhi Belly entail. So I'll spare you the details. I am feeling better now, although I still feel the remnants of that terrible day, having had to only urgently frequent the bathroom a few times. Truthfully, I have my team to thank for nursing me back to health and for mothering me so well during that unpleasant time. Thanks team! 

For the past week my team and I have been scouting out places to see where Indians our age gather in large numbers. One place recommended for us to check out was the mall nearby, which, duh, makes perfect logical sense - just as much as some countries differ from one another, they can be just as much similar in other ways, and young people gravitating toward malls is no exception here. However, I'm not so much interested in sharing the interactions we had there with Indians - we met quite a few people, talked about religion and so forth, and even scored a a free CD from a local Indian alternative-rock band. But while we were indifferently perusing mall stores, about to leave, a question came to my mind:  What am I doing here? I'm not sure why I asked myself this, and, depending on the answer I gave myself, I wasn't sure at the time what would be required of me as a result of that answer. I knew the right answer, but I found no feeling behind it. And as much as I wanted to avoid the question, I couldn't. 

There are times when you can't but feel as though you are acting some part you've trained your whole life to be good at playing. You've become so good at all the nuances and details of that character that you even convince yourself of its truthfulness, that the mask you wear is really your own face. The frightening thing is, however, that when you suddenly come to your senses, things are brought into the light, and suddenly you're able to look at your true face for what seems like the first time.

So standing there in the mall, asking myself this question of what I was doing in India, I began to feel this very reality. And honestly part of me was ready to pack my bags and go home. Part of me wanted to admit that this was not the place I was meant to be, that some mistake had been made - because I was not feeling for these Indian people walking all around me in the mall like I should have been; I was not brokenhearted that so many of them were in bondage to the teachings and rituals of Hinduism. Actually, I wasn't sure what I felt for them at all. I think I might have been slightly annoyed by them.

So I searched deep inside of me for a glimpse of hope in my soul, for anything that would tell me there is some vestige of Christ left in me. It wasn't until later that I came to some kind of answer. After just leaving the mall, my team and I ran into a large group of Indian college students sitting on a flight of stairs just outside the mall. The students seemed to be entranced by our American presence, and so we took that as a good enough reason to say hello and ask a few questions. During our conversation with these people, something came over me; I felt as though someone had unlocked the key to my feelings, and as a result I was able to engage these people with my whole being, with my mind and my heart. I felt genuinely interested in their lives, not only cultural level, but more importantly, on a spiritual level. I wanted to share the gospel with them, and as a team, we did, though they didn't look remotely interested in believing what we had to say. 

I don't know if I can articulate the impression I felt, but through that transaction, I think I came to this answer: I am here to learn how to find joy in getting to know and conversing with people, and in so doing, learn to find joy in sharing the gospel with people. I just read recently from a Russian Orthodox monk that whatever the Holy Spirit touches, there is immense and incomprehensible joy and peace. In this strange land, even if I feel nothing that I ought to feel as a follower of Christ, I am here to experience the joy and peace of the Holy Spirit, so that hopefully I might be of some use for God's kingdom in this place. 

 

Day 7 - Romanticism and Post-Hasar

"This is indeed India! The land of dreams and romance, of fabulous wealth and fabulous poverty - of genii and giants and Alladin lamps, of tigers and elephants - the country of a hundred nations and a hundred tongues, of a thousand religions and two million gods, cradle of the human race, birthplace of human speech, mother of history, grandmother of legend, great grandmother of tradition..." - Mark Twain. 

Before I came to India I carried with me my own idea of the place. I must admit, it was a romanticized version of India shaped from movies, books and the myths of Hinduism. Having this imaginary country with me, I was very curious how my romanticized version would compare with the 'real' India I would eventually come to know. And now that I have officially lived here a week, it's hard to say how that bridge is being made, if there even is a bridge. One thing, however, is certain: I am utterly fascinated by this place. The 'real' India has in no way weakened my romanticized notions of the country. In fact, somehow the contradictions I have come to know have only reinforced them. 

One way to explain this fascination is that so far in my time spent here I have acquired contradictory impressions of the country. One part of me is is drawn towards the Indian way of life, and another part of me is repulsed. Likewise, one part of me is so impressed with the Indian people, and another part of me is very much unimpressed. These contradictions create a mystery about the country I did not expect to feel, or at least not so strongly. But I think in order for me to better explain what I mean by all this, I think I need more time.  

Now, here is a little about what has taken place recently. I am back in New Delhi again, home of over 14 million people. For the past five days or so my team and I were living in a hostel in Hasar, a neighboring state northwest of Delhi. It was a very enjoyable time. I especially enjoyed the time spent inside the hostel. Picture a humble Spanish manor, but in India - a three story house with concrete floors, open, airy rooms, high ceilings and walls painted a mild-blue pastel color, a veranda to introduce the front of the home, impressive and spacious balconies accompanying the second and third floors, swinging double doors, and a quiet and dutiful group of servant girls from the school next door to attend to our needs. It had the romantic feeling of some novel or movie I had read or seen before. And on top of that, settled right across the street from the hostel, picture a structure that resembles a slightly smaller Space Needle, yet more modern and even more space-like looking, looking over us at all times like our own glass and metal guardian angel - quite the contrast. And there is a vague glimpse into the place my team and I spent in Hasar.

Some of my favorite moments during that time took place during the mornings and mid-afternoons. In the mornings I would wake up rather early (around 7 or so), sit out on the third-floor balcony, which overlooks the front of the property, and simply listen and watch the Indian morning go by. Squirrels would scurry along the ground darting from tree to tree. There would be the occasional peacock roaming about, that is until the stray dogs in the area would chase it away. And so many parrots! Green parrots with bright yellow-feathered tails were all over, chirping and jovially rustling the tree branches. The mornings there were very much filled with exotic tranquility. 

During the mid-afternoons, after we completed the activities for the day, I enjoyed sitting at the dining room table with a book or two in hand. And I would watch rather carefully as the Indian servant girls made all the preparations for the upcoming dinner. I did this almost everyday. While at work, the Indian girls would talk with one another in their native tongue, Hindi, laugh and joke with each another liberally, and occasionally give me an inquisitive look that I could not fully comprehend. We were strangers in the strictest sense. And though I could understand nothing of their speech, and perhaps they were even laughing at me at times, I found great pleasure watching them go about their work so dutifully and gracefully, all the while knowing that the girls practically ignored the fact that I was there. It was the closest I had ever felt to being invisible, but an invisibility desired, as if I was given the gift of witnessing authentic and unadulterated human behavior.

The train rides there and back were memorable. They were nothing like Darjeeling Limited, but they were nonetheless trains in India, and that was good enough for me. The most memorable moment occurred on my way to Hasar. For about a half-hour or more I watched the moving countryside of India through an open doorway in-between two train carts. I watched it with an Indian man, who was around my age, I met at that very spot. He didn't speak English very well, but he understood what I was saying to him for the most part. At least it appeared he did. He kept wanting to show me Hindi hip-hop on his cell-phone, and even though I wasn't too interested, I entertained the guy. 

I believe our souls were connected through traveling; we were friends on a different plane, and that friendship will only ever exist on the plane where you can feel the rush of hot wind on your face, see the moving of countryside and hear the sound of steel tracks below. When we parted I yelled to him, "See you on the next train, my friend." He laughed and then walked away. 

This has been India so far. I still have so much more to see, and I'm sure it will only further pique my growing interest. 

Until next time,

john sachs

   

Day 1 - Jet Lag

The main reason I am updating so soon after updating since yesterday is because I need there to be a blog entry dedicated to the first full day spent in India. I need to see "Day 1" on here - I don't know why.  Even if there is nothing significant said, putting this day in the books eases my mind, and perhaps I will sleep longer and more soundly than the night before. And while I'm on the subject of sleep, let me just say that today was a day of warring with jet lag. 

One interesting thing about being in India is that, coming from California, I am on the exact opposite side of the world; India is exactly 12 1/2 hours ahead of the Pacific Time Zone. Neither West nor East will take me any farther away from the Golden State. In other words, speaking horizontally, I am the farthest I can be away from my home right now. And based upon that fact, for some reason or another it makes everything here seem a little more alien, a little more off-set, as if I truly were on another planet and have the daunting task of observing it's peculiar inhabitants and their peculiar ways - even though so far everything I've seen and heard reminds me of other places I've been to in the world. 

Anyway, since today was our first day, and since we were all suffering heavily from jet lag, the day was rather relaxed and instructional. We took a couple of walks and familiarized ourselves with local area: checked out the park close by, as well as a small temple and the nearest market just down the road, which looks vaguely like something from Tim Burton's interpretation of Gotham City, with all of its suspended and tangled power lines, its narrow and dank streets and its high half-decrepit buildings. And while it is this way, it is still yet very much alive and congested with people and their need for consumption, including myself (I got some coffee), as well as with cars that barely fit in this bustling place; and you can feel it all pulsating. And all that to say: I liked it, and I want to go back. Maybe I'll go back tomorrow if I can. 

On a spiritual note, I have yet to feel the powerful presence of the spiritual mindedness I had anticipated to be unique to this country. And more than anything else, I am looking forward to feeling it and sensing it and knowing it on a personal level, because than I think I will begin feel deeply for Indians. But tomorrow is promising. We will be visiting some prominent temples in the city, and this excites me greatly. 

And on that note, my Day 1 entry comes to a close; jet lag is still pulling at my eyelids and my pillow calls. Question: what kind of voice do you think your pillow has? 

   

  

Greetings From Afar

I am in India. Not much to tell so far. Spent some sleepless hours on a plane flying over strange waters and lands. Arrived in country. Collected myself and my belongings. Rendezvoused with others. Rode in a vintage-looking Indian taxi that made its way through night-cloaked New Delhi. Couldn't make out much from my window. From what I could tell, the city felt like a mixture between Tijuana and Chaing Mai. Can't wait to see it in the day though. Hot. About to go to bed. More later.