Looking Back at India

As Karen and I sit in the airport in Newark, waiting to get home after more than 24 hours of travel, we look back at our indelible memories of India:

Highlights:

Egrets flying low over acres of rice paddies with waterfalls and mountain mists in the background; a flash of iridescent blue and black as a Monarch butterfly as big as your hand flits past; the angelic sound of 'How Great Thou Art' sung by 540 orphan girls before sunrise for five straight days; Naan bread; Naan bread (worthy of repeating, especially when it is beginning to blacken right off of a hot stone); a woman in an Indian sunset-colored sari, emerging from a dark hovel, the quintessence of incongruity, her lovely, dark skin contrasts her orange robe, her thick hair serving as a rude platform for the water jug balanced precariously on her head; the street scenes in Delhi: heat, dust, people, animals, bicycles, auto-rickshaws, cars, motorcycles, beggars, merchants, simultaneously clogging and moving, alive with life, yet seemingly trapped; the seashore at Kerala, unchanged from the days when the apostle Thomas purportedly landed here, the black, wooden ships and their nets drying in the sun, a dozen men gathered around a boat with seven wicker baskets teeming with shrimp, cawing birds flying and diving overhead as they barter below.

The need here is so great that one could easily be overwhelmed, but we have a chance to bless many in India, and look forward to God's leading in the days ahead, as we fulfill our mission to be a "Center for Christian Thought and Action."  Ten days in India have served to deepen our appreciation for her people and history, though we feel a bit as though we know her less now than when we left; we have learned more about ourselves than her, her mysteries shrouded from us, waiting to be unlocked through further study, further adventures in the "land of the tiger."

Street scene

An elephant delights in an afternoon hosing down.

No rewards points, but reasonable!

Day Seven

Today we head to Kerala, where we will visit a site that claims to have been founded by St. ('doubting') Thomas in 52AD. Our Indian guide is 'Brother Francis' whose email tells us much about him: donkey4christ@_______

Francis ministers mainly in Nepal, and describes to us how things have eased in that country for Christians:

"Very hard for Christians before with Hindu king. He killed and tortured many; conversion to Christianity was a crime. But God was merciful to us two years ago; he was killed, and now there is a Maoist government. They do not care about religion; they care about money. You can start a mission, as long as you pay 50 percent to the government. Americans can come with no Visa and stay as long as they like. In India, Americans need Visas because the Hindu government is afraid you are coming to convert everyone to Christianity.

“Many are coming to Christ in Nepal,” he continues, "but it is very difficult to convert the Hindus. They like Jesus and accept him as one of their gods. But they do not understand why they must give up all other gods. Many of them will worship in a Christian church for many years, and still have many idols in their homes. Hindu culture is very strong there.”

After taking our meals on campus for many days, we are looking forward to a culinary change of venue. The food has been very good at the orphanage-school, but predictable:

Rice. In the morning, it is likely to be a doughy cake about the size of a saucer and of indeterminate shape.

We are then offered a number of 'slurries,' and some will be very spicy. They are almost always meatless. They can contain foodstuffs ranging from chickpeas to boiled eggs still in their shells. Curry, of course, pervades it all; curry powder was even sprinkled over Lays potato chips in a very 'American' looking package.  After the meal, we are often offered tea (always with cream and sugar added--it is fairly strong) and a mix of sugar and fennel, which is thought to be a digestive of some sort.

Some of us are longing for a steak. When we stopped at a McDonald's for a restroom break, we all laughed at a number of menu items, including a 'cheeseburger,' which was breaded, deep fried cheese on a bun. Hmmmm.

Bananas are bountiful, beautiful, and a 'safe' food, free of microscopic troubles that may lead to Giardia or other nasty ailments. They have become our chief staple, a cross-cultural culinary friend in a time of need. The tiny ones are sweetest;  the bunches are often taller than the banana-seller, and are artfully arranged to entice the local and tourist alike. The mangos are perfumed; I have eaten hundreds in my life, but never tasted anything like these; they are filled with the nectar of the heavens, as though they were soaked in flower water overnight.  Prices are remarkably low overall. At a nice, air-conditioned hotel restaurant, ten of us had coffee, toast and a few large bottles of water for about $12. The toast was 50 cents (with butter and jam--.33 plain).

We consider our departure tomorrow with a mixture of excitement and regret. There is great need here, and real opportunity for change. The people we have met have been humble and welcoming. With all of the chaos of traffic and noise in the streets, there is no rancor; people wait, implacable, even as a massive cow saunters across an impossibly busy road. India may be the most complex society we have encountered. With its mix of languages, faiths, diverse geographical and ethnic features, it is a mysterious, living laboratory, fascinating for anyone who seeks to better understand our fellow men and women, and God's purposes for us all.

The following is a typical abode in Coimbatore.

Day Six

Today we will march in downtown Coimbatore to raise awareness about the exploitation of young women in India. We have heard tragic stories from a number of the conference attendees, ranging from reports from a clinic in Mumbai where 8,000 abortions were performed in one year--all but one were female--to village leaders drowning infant girls in hopes that they will be reincarnated as males. 

Nearly 1,000 girls join us for a 2k march, flags waving, drums playing, chanting 'Save the girl child,'  'Education for all women,’ and 'Stop killing baby girls now!'  We were joined by the town's mayor--quite a coup from what we were told. Right to life advocates in India claim that their issues have been dismissed by the government for the most part. The growth of the Catholic church in recent years has helped, but more must be done.

Riding back on one of seven buses after the rally, we are dusty, hot, exhausted and thankful to have joined together over such an important issue.

These 500+ orphaned girls are a living illustration of the value and potential of young women in India. We are convinced that many of these women will have a significant, powerful impact on this nation in the days ahead. What would their lives have been without a free center that has given them spiritual training, food, a haven and a solid education?

In the evening, we tour the educational facilities. They are basic, but functional. The Center is able to offer free accredited college degrees to orphaned and indigent women.  They are clearly doing God's work.

One of the girls, 'Jennifer,' preaches a powerful message to the delegates. Her English is good, her knowledge of Scripture is solid, and she has a pure love for Jesus. She also scored 100 percent on the state-proctored exam this year. One of the many 'girl child' leaders who, by God's unfailing mercy and grace, has been saved for a greater purpose. May many others follow her inspiring path. 

This photo is of local police assisting with traffic control as we march to raise awareness to "Protect the Girl Child" from exploitation in India.

This photo is from the march.

 

                                  A sign not likely to be seen at McD's at home.

Miscellaneous Photos Taken During Our Travels

                                          Morning worship.

Dave Five

"In the United States, life is hard; in India it is easy," begins Dr. Job, as we drive through winding, crowded roads to visit Karunya University, about an hour away.  The lack of irony in his voice tells me that he sincerely means what he says. Does he not see what I see along the road? A woman trudges through a field of brick-red dirt with a woven basket atop her head; after a few steps she pulls the basket down and heaves its contents--the same red soil--forward into another field. Minutes later, we see a boy trying to retrieve his donkey; the poor beast has wandered out into the road with manacles on its fore feet and cannot seem to get out of the onrushing traffic. Another two miles down the road, a man twirls a stick at a pack of goats that he is leading along the roadway, inches from the motorbikes, cars and buses that pass perilously by.

"In America," Job continues, "the husband and wife wake up at 4:30. They take separate cars and drive 80 kilometers to work; their children go to school by themselves, and come home to an empty house. The parents get home at 8 o'clock, warm up food in the microwave oven, and are too exhausted to even speak to their children. This is a hard life. In India, the family stays together; they do not know they are poor; they eat mangos and rice and are happy--an easy life. Only Americans come and say: you have no TV; you have no refrigerator; you have no car; you must be poor. It is not true; the people of India are happy."

We reach Karunya University, and are greeted with roses and smiles by Dr. Anne Mary Fernandez, the "Registrar and Dean" (equivalent of a Provost in US) and members of her staff. We do not have time to tour the more than 500 acre campus, but we do get a chance to see the new, high-tech media studios and gleaming food processing areas, among others. Founded by evangelist and educator Dr. D. G. S. Dinahkaran only 25 years ago, the school boasts 7,200 residential students, a hospital, and a mix of Hindu, Christian and Muslim students (about 65-70 percent are Christians).  After the tour, we meet Vice-Chancellor Dr. Paul Appasamy, who relates the close relationship between our founder, Dr. Robertson, and Karunya's; Dr. Robertson actually gave them a 'sizable gift,' and a faculty building still bears his name. Karunya is interested in pursuing some joint programs in GLE and COM/ARTS, and we promise to keep the dialogue open.

Driving back to campus, Dr. Job begins another important lesson focused on Indian culture:

 "The basis for society in America is Christianity. In India, it is Hindu." I think of the pastor I met this morning who has asked me to pray for the money to replace the teeth that were knocked out when he was attacked by Hindus earlier in the week. He pulls back his blackened lips to reveal the gap and some jagged remnants. "Missionaries to India cannot be effective if they do not study the Hindu culture. The British tried and failed...."

His voice trails off into the cool evening air, and I am thankful to God for all we are learning from this rich, remarkable culture.

This is the founding building at Karunya University in Coimbatore, India.

 

Day Four

The bell rings at 5:00 a.m. for the students to rise and meet on the field for their daily exercise.  At 5:30 we all meet for chapel, where we are blessed by hundreds of young women singing praise to their savior, Jesus Christ--the God among gods in India. Later in the day, we listen in horror to Dr. Mary Mignon, who entitles her lecture "We do not have a license to kill." She describes the open discrimination that 'girl children' face in India. The most heinous offense is abortion, as women pay as much as $5,000 to have an ultrasound, so that they can detainee the fetus' sex, and abort it if it is a girl. Dr. Mignon tells us that a saying has arisen in India that basically admits that the cost of the ultrasound is a good investment, as is the abortion, because it saves the family from having to pay her dowry later when she marries. We are stunned by her continuing narrative, which describes atrocities like mothers stuffing rice down their infant daughters'  throats, others push them from windows and stage it as an accident.

Just an hour ago, I met a ten-year old girl named 'Amy Carmichael',  who was buried alive as an infant, but rescued, brought here to the P. P. Job orphanage, where she has been able to thrive (and been blessed with a name that implies she may be a great evangelist one day; her smile tells us her ministry is sure to be powerful).

Dr. Job tells the group that he has made it his passion to improve the quality of life for women in India. He comments that a girl is 'forced to be a slave all her life,'  first of her parents, then her husband (who is often abusive) and finally her children, who neglect the woman who has given her life to serve them.

In the afternoon, we prepare for the Commencement exercises, and watch a grand spectacle as 300 young women receive diplomas, their proud friends and families gather in the auditorium to celebrate.  Indigenous bands play native instruments, flags wave and hundreds of children march.

As name after name is called--many of whom scored 100 percent on their proctored exit exams--we watch proud young women who have faced unspeakable impediments and persevered despite them all. They are encouraged to continue to inspire others throughout their determination. To see young Christian Indian women committed to the things of God make us all proud to know them.

Families linger for hours, taking pictures, sharing a smile and a hug. They all realize that these women are special. They have suffered, but they have succeeded. They will help reverse the fate of so many young women in India by demonstrating to all the deep value of women to the rich culture they have helped to create.

This photo is of children dancing at the 5:30 a.m. chapel service.

Day Three

After traveling by plane to Coimbatore through Mumbay, we grab our bags and step outside to find hundreds of flag-waving girls and a band welcoming us to Michael Job College.   It is our first exposure to the more than 500 girls, most of whom are orphans and have been taken in by Dr. P. P. Job, a long-time evangelist who founded 'Love in Action' ministries some 30 years ago. Dr. Job educates these young women (aged 3-30) in a Christian environment and gives them a hope and a future. Despite their circumstances, nearly all of them are joyful. Their welcoming smiles and hugs have all of us  enraptured.

Dr. Job holds a press conference, and announces the theme of the three-day Commencement festivities: 'Save the Girl Child'.  He hopes to raise awareness about rampant abortion in India, and will stage a protest and rally on Monday to end 'Discrimination of the Girl Child in India'.

At the press conference, we hear that in addition to abortion, many young women are abandoned, hence the need for Dr. Job's Center. In fact, he will christen a new building tomorrow that may one day house hundreds of younger girls, aged 3 months to 3 years.

Dr. Job and his wife Mary (she works six days a week at her own volunteer medical clinic) lost their two sons to tragedy: they were both murdered for their faith. With few partners and growing opposition in some quarters in India, they have built a haven that promises to bless thousands for years to come.

Day Two

Today’s primary task is to take in the Taj Mahal, one of the world’s seven wonders and India’s most famous landmark. It is nine hours round trip, and—though difficult to believe—the sights and sounds and near-insanity of the drive almost rivaled the majesty of the world-famous tomb of love.

The drive was unlike any other we have experienced. It was Mr. Toad’s wild ride set in Bollywood, with a cast of characters that included a menagerie of cows, bulls, goats, wild pigs, donkeys, monkeys, camels, elephants, dogs and people hurtling down the highway with carts, bicycles, motor scooters, motorcycles, “auto-rickshaws,” cars, vans, trucks and tractors; most objects moving much faster than any safety code should allow, while others were habituated to standing in one spot and munching on whatever the life around them left them to glean. Our van driver, Rebby, masterfully weaved his way through and around every obstacle in a feat of skill that was part LeMans and part video game.

Once we reached the site, we realized instantly why somewhere around 30,000 visitors traveled to this location daily: the Taj Mahal is breathtaking in its symmetrical design and carefully inlaid marble. To think that some 20,000 workers spent more than 20 years to complete the mausoleum to Mumtaz Mahal ­­­­­­­ built by Mughal emperor Shah Jahan. He promised the resting place to her after she gave birth to their 14^th child (we heard someone in the group whisper, “sometimes it is not good to be the Shah’s favorite wife”). While there is something sad and self-absorbed about the Taj Mahal, there is also something awe-inspiring about a love that inspires a man years after his love’s death. In an age when commitment is often only until someone more attractive comes along, the Taj Mahal stands as a monument as enduring and pure as the white marble with which it was formed.

Driving back from Agra to New Delhi, the passing scene is nearly too unbearable to view a second time. The squalor is profound; the despair is palpable. I stare into the face of a young woman in a beautiful sari; her eyes, vacuous and chilling, scan the ground aimlessly as we motor past her and five other passengers in a tiny auto-rickshaw, the 103 degree heat stifling their breathing—and perhaps their imaginations as well.  Our Lord surely broods over these people as he did over Jerusalem’s masses 2,000 years ago; God please take them under your mighty wings and shelter them.

Taj Mahal

Day One - New Delhi

After a 14-hour flight from Newark and a hectic ride to our hotel, we were happy to start a new day with less fog in our brains as we venture out into the endless city known to locals as Nai Dilli, India. India, the land of the Vedas, and the ‘mother’ of nine prominent religions; perhaps no other country rivals the variegated expressions of her beliefs. We know that many Christians have preceded us to this mysterious land, and we pray that we will not be like other travelers, who John P. Jones characterizes as “amusing…they have rushed through India, published their misconceptions and ill-digested theories about the people with an oracular emphasis which is equaled only by their ignorance.”*

We—there are seven of us; our ‘guides’ are Rajan and his son Jijo; they work with the ministry of Dr. P.P. Job, the long-time Indian Christian minister, my wife Karen, Tom and Carol Hayes; we met Tom and Dr. Job at a Christian chamber of commerce event in Orlando, and their granddaughter Zoe—load up into a van and merge into a boisterous city that is as old as Damascus and Varanasi. Karen and I have come at Dr. Job’s request to speak at the commencement of his school and orphanage for women; we will also participate in a march for young women’s rights in India and speak about Christian leadership at a few venues. We hear (above the constant blaring horns that referee the melee known as ‘driving’ in New Delhi) that over the millennia, Delhi has been built and destroyed 11 times. It seems more built than destroyed these days, but there is plenty of both as we drive past remnants of the long British rule and even some ruins that date back to Anangpal, who may have created the first fort—‘Lal Kot.’ Our stop on these grounds is one of the day’s finest memories; we walk past the legendary tower named “Qutab Minar,” built across three generations and finally completed in 1220 AD.

The other memorable stop was at CBN India, where we arrive to hear a group of about nine praying and singing over the requests they had received over the phone that day. The staff repeat this practice of faith and hope three times a day, and we are privileged to join them as we each placed our palms on a sheet of paper that had about 25 separate requests from local viewers. Before we leave, the magnetic general manager “Priti” Chaudary walks us through the gleaming new studio, already dedicated and ready to open almost any day. We all pray once again for the on-air talent and production crew; may the Lord bless this mighty ministry that takes in some 7,000 monthly calls.

Our first day in New Delhi is noisy, historic, frenetic, exhausting, mysterious and pulsating with humanity. How early can we start in the morning?

*Jones, John Peter. India, Its Life and Thought, MacMillan, 1908.

One of New Delhi's auto rickshaws.

Qutab Minar