India

I had been told before that I would need to prepare myself for India, that it would be unlike any other place I’d seen and especially distinct from the other countries on our itinerary.  As some of you found out before I left, I was most excited for India.  My excitement was found in both the mystery of those forewarnings and in the overwhelming sense of the unknown.
        I woke up on the morning of October 14th to a violent, nearly suffocating smell; we had arrived.  The thickness of the air was shocking and offensive.  The ship was cleared for disembarkation.  I gathered my things and set out with a few friends.  Once we got outside the gate to the port, we were bombarded with offers from the rickshaw drivers.  There were too many of us to fit into one, so we were forced to split up.  We figured as long as we told both drivers where we wanted to go that we could just meet up.  This was certainly not the case.  My driver took a slight detour down to the beach and let us each take turns driving it.  We were so suckered into his little game.  Of course, being our first ride, we went along with it all.  After taking my turn at driving the rickshaw, we piled back in.  Benson would be leaving for his trip to the Taj Mahal in a few hours, so I was eager to meet up with him at the mall we were all headed to.  Along the way our driver tried to guilt us into stopping quickly to help him.  We were persistent in demanding he take us straight to the mall, but he pulled over and wouldn’t drive further until we agreed to make a pit stop.  It didn’t take long to figure out was going on when we pulled up to and “Indian Silk and Rug Emporium” and saw multiple groups of other SASers coming out of the building to meet their rickshaw drivers.  Turns out the owners of the Emporium pay commission to the rickshaw drivers for bringing tourists to their shops.  We all shared a few laughs at the con and then jumped back in the rickshaw.  A few minutes later we pulled over and got out of the rickshaw. Having never been to Chennai before, we could only trust that our driver had brought us to Spencer’s Plaza, like he said he would.  We knew there were two shopping centers within a few km of each other; Spencer’s and the City Center.  I looked up at the building we’d been dropped off at and asked again f this was Spencer’s Plaza.  He assured me that it was, so we paid him and he drove off.  We crossed the street and approached the front of the building to find a large sign, reading “City Center.” We’d been dropped at the wrong place! By this time, we’d been split up from Benson’s rickshaw for a good hour.  We jumped in another rickshaw, headed towards Spencer’s Plaza and hoped we’d be able to find Benson’s group.  Ultimately we did not find him by the time he had to back at the ship, so we just accepted that we’d have to wait until the last day to see him again and ask about the Taj Mahal.  So now it was just Jocelyn, Johnny and me.  We were getting pretty hungry, so we located the mall’s food court. The layout of the food court was just like you’d expect with different restaurants and counters lining the walls and clusters of tables and chairs in between for people to sit at.  I’ve been to a few food courts in my day and figured it’d be the same operation, standard procedure.  This wasn’t the case.  We were walking in front of the restaurants, taking glances at each one, trying to get a feel for what was being offered and at what cost.  We had barely walked by the first two restaurants when we were again bombarded, this time by representatives of each one.  They were all shouting and shoving menus in our faces, trying to persuade us to sit and order from them.  We could only take so much of this and eventually gave in to one of them.  Even after we sat down though, the bombardment continued.  Menu after menu was stacked in front of us while we tried to point to and communicate our orders to the waiter. We eventually got our food and I enjoyed it for two reasons: 1) Indian food is spicy…like, REALLY spicy and 2) Indian food is eaten with your hands! That may have been my favorite part about India altogether.  Each meal consists mostly of rice and then a variety of different spices, sauces and meats that you just ball together in your palm.  I really dug that. 
        The following day, I traveled with Jocelyn, Darren and my friend Frank.  We headed out in the morning to an outdoor market called the Pondy Bazaar.  Our driver this time tried to tell us it was closed and that he had some good shops to take us too, but after the events of the day before, we were not going to give in.  We made it to the street and the bazaar was definitely not closed.  There were all kinds of things being sold including fabrics, foods, spices, candles, books and clothing.  Darren found a pretty awesome turquoise Nike hat and I found a few gift items and an Indian shirt.  After the bazaar, we headed back towards the wharf and rested a bit on the ship.  We knew that there was a service visit to the Missionaries of Charity Orphanage through SAS the following day, but we didn’t make the list.  The orphanage as visitation hours though, so we decided to go on our own that afternoon.  We were greatly looking forward to playing with the kids, hoping maybe they’d have a jungle gym or a swing set.  Once we got there we were told to leave our bags in one room and that we couldn’t bring cameras in.  This came as somewhat of a shock because kids usually have so much fun taking pictures and looking at themselves in the camera.  That was my first clue though that this may not be the kind of orphanage we’d been used to seeing.  Missionaries of Charity was founded by Mother Theresa for abandoned children.  This was not the original site, but was founded and operated under the same principles.  Most of the children were abandoned and found living on the streets and all of them suffered mental illnesses or physical deformities, often both.  Once we saw the first room of children, I understood why no cameras were allowed in.  The children were all laid across the floor, each of them unique.  There was a small boy with no legs and a cleft lip and a little girl who was born with only the left side of her body.  These realities were hard to accept.  These were children, they should be laughing, running, playing, smiling.  The most we could do was sit down next to them and wave and smile and hold their hands.  I still have trouble processing the amount of misfortune and pain I witnessed that day, but walked away with a certain obligation.  I have been given capacity to speak, think and imagine; the ability to walk, run and jump; and the opportunity to achieve, dream and succeed.  My obligation then, if ever I loose sight of my original motivations, is to take advantage of those opportunities for the people that will never be given those chances.
        Day three was packed full.  In the morning, Jocelyn, Darren and I jumped in a rickshaw together and headed for a Hindu temple, called Sai Baba.  It rained pretty hard on the way there so our driver rolled down the tarps to cover the outsides of the rickshaw and make it “waterproof.” He then proceeded to light a cigarette…Once we got to the temple, we removed our shoes and followed the crowds inside.  The exterior of the building was incredibly decorated and vibrant with color.  The inside had pictures of Sad guru Sai Baba, who is believed to be a reincarnation of the Shiva god.  He was a peaceful looking man, always barefoot and often depicted with children.  The worshippers would stand in line to pray at the picture and touch the feet of Sai Baba.  We roamed for a few minutes before being approached by a local woman who asked if she could give us a tour.  We were thrilled! She showed us around the various rooms and then took us up to the offering alter where people had stood in long lines to pray, give money or burn incense.  After the tour we thanked the woman and headed back outside to the rickshaw.  We had told our driver, “John,” not to wait for us, but they never listen.  From there we headed out to St. Thomas Hill in Maylapore.  The church built on this sight claims that St. Thomas was martyred and buried there, though the Vatican claims that St. Tomas was buried in the Vatican.  The hill gave us an incredible view of the city and I also took one of my favorite pictures of the trip there.  We walked through the cathedral, although the hanging pictures and display cases all seemed to be very phony and unnaturally plastic.  Made me question how authentic the sight really was, but who knows?  From our inter-port students, Amog and Preshant, we learned that there were film studios nearby that were open to the public.  It took some time to communicate to our driver John that we didn’t want to go to the movies, but to the actual studio.  He asked a nearby local man to help translate for us and eventually he got it and we were on our way.  The rain had been off and on since the morning, mostly on though and the streets were incredibly flooded.  Unfortunately, we got to the film studio back lots on a day they weren’t shooting anything, but we got to walk around.  We first went into a large house with an upstairs and a piano room downstairs; the piano wouldn’t play though.  After that we came upon a sound stage where they could build indoor sets.  The ceiling was a massive network of wooden catwalks and bare bulbs.  It was definitely a pretty low budget film set, but I enjoyed the experience.  (Remember how I said day 3 was “packed full”…well, we’re still goin!)  We left the studio and made our way to Golden Beach- Universal Amusement Park.  We were curious to see what the prices, rides and people that would go to the amusement park were like.  Admission was 150 Rupees (about $3), but there was an extra charge for bringing a camera or camcorder in, so I grabbed a locker.  By the time we got inside, we were ready for lunch, and what better food to eat than India amusement park food…that’s sitting out…served by people eating in front of you…(I’ve already explained how Indians don’t use silverware, right?).  We got our lunch, used some Purell, and dug right in.  The food was actually reasonably good, despite the unsanitary conditions.  After lunch we were excited to explore the park and jump on some rides.  The first one we came to was kinda like those Giant Swing rides, but with outward facing birdcages.  I was a little hesitant at first, but figured if a bunch of the locals were getting on, it couldn’t be so bad…right? From there, Darren spotted a yellow roller coaster.  As we got closer we noticed that the track ended by going over a pool before returning to the terminal.  I took a good look at it and was positive we wouldn’t get wet; the car rode much higher than the water level.  So, we jumped on and started the climb upward.  Tick…tick…tick.  We rounded a quick U-turn and then whoosh! We were accelerating at quite an uncomfortable speed downward, towards that pool.  Darren had given me his camera to film him on the ride, so I wasn’t paying full attention to the tracks ahead.  SPLASH! My assumptions were wrong.  We got soaked.  I was able to tuck the camera in my armpit to keep it from getting wet, but we spent the rest of the afternoon trying to dry off in the off-and-on rain of the day.  There was a terrifyingly creep doll maze ride with a grungy Mickey Mouse outside and lots of armless, headless dolls inside.  Golden Beach is so named because it backs up to the ocean.  There isn’t even a wall or gate separating the park from the sand.  We walked past that invisible boundary and stood on the beach for a while, observing the fully clothed swimmers in the water and the cricket players on the shore.  Our last stop was another roller coaster (a dry one this time, I learned my lesson).  The park turned out to be a lot of fun.  The rides don’t seem to have had maintenance for years and much of the park seems stuck somewhere between construction and demolition.  Our rickshaw driver returned us to the ship and we took time to rest a little.  When we returned to the ship, we were told by some people that Spencer’s Mall had a few bootleg DVD stores in the upper floors, so naturally we went to check it out.  They were charging 50Rupees per disc, so many of us loaded up on some movies that we knew would help ease the upcoming Pacific crossing.  I got the Planet Earth series and a few other movies. 
        For the fourth day in Chennai, Darren, Jocelyn and I went on an SAS trip into rural India.  We drove a ways into an agricultural village where there was a community water hole and the families farmed palm trees and rice.  One family welcomed us into their home to show us what a typical house looks like.  Many of the villagers are in the process of improving their houses on the property they are currently living on.  We rode on cattle drawn wagons through the town.  Not many of the people in Chennai were excited to see us or at all open to smiling at a stranger, but the people in this village were.  The children and the adults would stand in their doorways and wave and smile at us riding by.  We then stopped at a palm tree farm.  Here, some of the men demonstrated how they climb the trees to gather the coconuts.  Each tree was numbered and there must have been over 300 trees.  After the demonstration, they let us try climbing the tree with our bare feet and a leather belt wrapped around the trunk and our upper body.  I gave it a shot and made it up a few feet, but it took a great deal of strength and flexibility.  I’m really glad I took the opportunity to get out of the city of Chennai and see another face of India.  The hospitality and warmth we were displayed that day speaks a lot louder than the thickness of the air that initially tainted my perceptions of India.  Later that night, Benson returned from the Taj Mahal and we were reunited☺ We went out with a group of five to take him by the DVD stores and for our last night in India, we were determined to find a hookah lounge.  We found both! The new comers to the DVD stores bought some movies and things and after that we went out to a lounge called Mocha, where we shared a few hookahs and some delicious grilled sandwiches. 
        I met Benson and Darren for breakfast on the last morning in Chennai.  Benson had a silly grin on his face and asked me if I’d noticed the trees that morning.  I was a little confused, but by the look on his face I could tell he was trying to clue me into something.  He was hoping I’d noticed the wind.  Even after he said that, I wasn’t putting it all together.  “The kite!” “Oh yeah!” We ran downstairs and got ready.  It’d now been a good two weeks since Benson surprised me in Cape Town by buying that huge kite.  The three of us rushed out the gangway and made our way towards the line of rickshaws.  We made it to the beach and stretched out the kite strings.  A small gathering of bystanders drew near with curiosity while we attached the strings to the fabric of the kite.  Benson was the first one to fly it and the moment its bright orange wings took off, that crowd began to multiply.  By the time Benson handed over the reigns, there must’ve been 30 people crowding us, touching us and asking us questions.  After a half hour or so of flying, a storm started building from over the ocean.  The kite began pulling harder and harder and instead of just dragging us across the beach, it began lifting us completely off the ground (I’ve got videos).  We pulled the kite down just in time for the rain to begin falling.  It was more than rain, though. It was more of a flash flood.  Everyone on the beach was running for cover under the tarps, but the three of us just walked slowly, taking every drop and enjoying the time we’d just shared together; as if we knew at that moment without saying so, that we’d remember that day forever.

-mason

“One individual life may be of priceless value to God’s purposes, and that life may be yours” -Oswald Chambers