08.08.10 *LOST

India is called the “Land of Paradoxes” for all of the obvious reasons. State-of-the-art scientific centers attract millions from a global economy, yet 25% of its population goes to bed hungry every night. There are millions of taxis, rickshaws, bicycles, goats, etc. which clog the byways of the major cities yet there are still thousands of villages not accessible by a drivable road and existing almost as they did 2,000 years ago. While some women have worked themselves in to top professional positions, women at large still struggle with basic human rights and are treated frequently as second rate. Ask any Indian woman and she will say, “Oh yes, men have all of the jobs, but women do all of the work.” India’s economy grows at a massive 6% annually yet still has the world’s largest concentration of poor. According to the United Nations’ Human Development Index, India ranks low at 127th out of 177 for quality of life. As Anita Pranap states in her article in Outlook Magazine, “Nearly 300 million people live without the basic necessities of life: water, food, roads, education, medical care, and jobs. These are Indians living on the outer edges of the nation’s consciousness, …in tribal areas, barren wastelands, and dirty slums, totally outside the market economy. Their tragedy is is that they lack the basic skills needed to gain entry into the market place. And no one is even trying to equip them.”

It is these poor that are driven to acts of desperation. Flooding the big cities seeking work, particularly women and children become innocent prey for human traffickers who snatch them in to the deep mafia-driven ring of bonded labor and all too often forced prostitution. Whether kidnapped, tricked or sold, the crimes committed against these innocents are perverse and horrifying, even if they escape or are rescued out, the process of rebuilding is massive. The emotional and physical trauma is nearly impossible to heal from.

Last week was my first week immersed in Kolkata, a city which mirrors exactly that which is described above. The scenes are daily life are surreal. And while I have seen them before, I am never, ever prepared for them. There is a woman that I’ve seen several times around the streets near our guest house. She squats down to bathe in the muddy, monsoon puddles and then cups her hands to drink the very water she has just bathed in. Mind you, the sewers are less of a system and more of an open dumping ground and public toilet. Therefore, this woman has most likely just ingested human waste. This is a common scene.

Naked, dirty children frequently pull at your pant legs seeking food, money, anything really. Most likely, even these children are “employed” by a parent or a “John” to immediately return their earnings — food or money. It is imperative to not give them money or food as they are most likely being watched and what you have given this child will most likely be taken or sold. This goes against every human instinct. When a child who is hungry and disheveled tugs at your arm, the normal response is to help. It is an aggravating heartbreak. And this too is a common scene.

Sinewy, old men still pull rickshaws. Dark alleys lead to darker alleys. Trash litters everything, in fact where isn’t there trash? The smells here are ripe and rotten under the oppressive, monsoon humidity. There are more people here than I’ve ever seen in my life. More vehicles attempt to fit in to too small spaces with too many passengers. It’s been said, but I’ll say it again, India accosts the senses.

Of course Kolkata has a crumbling, by-gone charm to it. There have been many funny moments where you just have to shake your head and laugh and say, “Ohh India!”  But in general, this place is shocking and the pervasive hopelessness shoves up against me with a heaviness that at times makes me want to pack up my fancy backpack and filtered water bottle and head for home. Truth be told.

In 1950, Mother Teresa started rescuing abandoned babies and dying individuals from Sutter Road, one of Calcutta’s roughest stretches. She worked tirelessly until her death. I was able to visit her home and her orphanage for handicapped children this weekend. It was a deeply humbling and moving experience primarily because the tangibility of love within those walls is in such massive contrast to what lies outside the walls. A simple black and white xerox was tacked up to the wall near her tomb. It reminded me that even in the midst of all the suffering, she still saw beauty on every face, every life. “Now let us do something beautiful for God.”