30/09/2018
I think I need to write a post-India letter. I really need it to finally believe that I have been there, a dream come true.
How many times have we heard about Calcutta, about the sisters… And now we have been there, it’s over. How lucky we are!
How lucky to wake up and go to bed surrounded by car horns, tuk-tuks, buses, cows, or whatever you can imagine, and despite it all find my inner silence. How lucky to share a room with twice the registered number, that was true coexistence.
How lucky to have been hungry the first days in Calcutta and to have survived on Cheese noons. Sometimes we need these things to realize how fortunate we are and to appreciate it.
How lucky to be able to pray every morning under the tomb of Saint Teresa, yes, the very Saint Teresa, to give her a good morning kiss and ask her to transmit her example and love for others to me.
How lucky to have been able to attend the sisters’ mass at 6 in the morning and enjoy a good muffin from Raj afterwards. As Amparito would say: a little piece of heaven.
How lucky to be able to clean the streets of Calcutta, pick up rats, worms, cockroaches, or whatever was needed and take them to the crow-infested landfill. But above all, how beautiful it was that our Indian friends joined us, followed our example, and did it happily.
How lucky to have learned from the work of the sisters, women devoted to the most needy out of love. How lucky to have been able to see through children with cerebral palsy the love of God and to take a kick or a slap from them as a hug.
How lucky to have been with lepers, to smile at them, look at them, hug them… Seeing in them much more than an infectious disease. At first, it seemed we didn’t belong there, but I realized it wasn’t about how much we were giving but how much love we put into what we were giving.
How lucky to have taken a 35-hour train ride and not just any train… An Indian train, a train with a certain charm, a train where we woke up in a puddle of our own sweat, a train with doors wide open, a train with interesting smells, a train where we had time to do a bit of everything: singing, discovering very valuable people, playing, telling jokes, riddles, making Indian friends… we even found time to celebrate what we sometimes forget is the most important: the Holy Mass.
How lucky to have been in a sacred city for Indians, Pushkar, where cows were one of them and monkeys tried to be, where we learned to appreciate a hamburger, a beer…
Where we could dance in the rain, or rather MONSOON, enjoying every drop, getting soaked and keep dancing.
How lucky to have taken a 12-hour bus ride to reach the desert border with Pakistan, walk at night and sleep during the day. Take safaris and enjoy them like children, shower with buckets, celebrate mass and holy hour on the dunes while the sun was setting… Thank you Lord!
