Three Weeks in Delhi.
For essentially three weeks, our team has lived in the part of New Delhi that “Delhi-ites” faintly cringe at when they hear the name. The Paharganj area is home to drugs, violence, theft and the red-light district. We got used to the ever-present sound of horns and cars, the smell of sewage and cigarettes, and pollution induced coughs. Our hotel was located at the back of an alleyway that had an open-air urinal stationed conveniently at its opening to the street, which in turn wafted the smell of male refuse down the remainder of the alley. I could never hold my breathe long enough to escape it. We would seek refuge in our concrete rooms or on the roof where sometimes we could see a twinge of sunlight. “Tomb sweet tomb…”, Scott would say as we returned after a day of travel around the city.
We arrived in Mumbai (Bombay; same city) yesterday on an overnight train: a refreshingly comfortable way to travel. When I travel, I am often reminded why the use of contrast is such an effective tool in literature, art, and persuasion. It brings a keen awareness to detail, in those being compared, which one might normally overlook. From the moment I stepped off of the train, even with the 50+ lbs. on my back and my messenger bag in my hand, I felt considerably lighter. Firstly, I could breathe. I always felt like I fought for air in Delhi. There was a warm ocean breeze blowing through the train station, which caused the palm trees across the street to sway. The sun felt warm, and not like it had been put through a strainer before it hit the ground below. The taxi drivers were even dressed in loose fitting white cotton beach shirts and took their sandals off when they drove. It hit me then that G-d had purposely sent us to Delhi first. He wanted us to feel the difference between the dense squalor of Delhi, and the California-feel of Mumbai. Were my life a story, the Author used contrast. Thankfulness was the only logical reaction.
But, as you will see, He even outdid Himself.
It had been made clear that it was time to leave Delhi. We built solid relationships with a smaller organization named Courage Homes there. They were extremely hospitable, encouraging and willing to help us in any way they could. Before we left, we treated them to dinner to show our appreciation and further our relationships with them. This proved to be very fun. One of the ladies’ husbands even owns a skateboard business, and I was able to go witness the ministry he does in a park; teaching any willing person to skate. I got to skateboard in India. We met another young lady in their church that goes directly into brothels to help the women there. I could probably write pages on the notes I took from them about human trafficking. But despite our newfound friends, we decided to move on to our next contact here in Mumbai.
We arrived in Mumbai, four hours later than expected, at 12:30 in the afternoon on Tuesday. I called the hotels within our price range from our berth in the train that morning. In Delhi, particularly our area, hotels were in abundance and the unspoken protocol was to show up when you wanted a room. The hotels in Mumbai told me to book in advance if we’d like rooms. A few days prior, Roque, a man that works with the organization Justice and Care, called Faith (after a few weeks of email silence) telling her that the only day he’d be able to meet with us was Tuesday. Interestingly, we bought our train tickets the day he called, and were scheduled to arrive on Tuesday morning. When we told him from the train that all the hotels we contacted were booked up, he told us to just come straight to his office and they would help us work it out.
Roque directed the taxi on how to get to the office from the phone, which I was thankful for. I could tell from his voice that he was educated, quick thinking, and smart. Upon our arrival he showed us where to put our bags and quickly gave us all seats and a cold 2-liter bottle of Coke. I suggested to him that maybe two of us could talk with him while two of us tried to find a place to stay that night, as we didn’t want to be a burden to them, trying to figure out at the end of the day where to stay that night.
Roque: Oh don’t worry about it! Our office manager will figure it out for you while we talk.
He then commenced to ask about us, why we were there and showed us a very informative PowerPoint of all Justice and Care does, most of which was stunning. They specialize in rescuing girls from brothels. All that goes into it is extensive. The way he presented it to us, it became very clear that there are thrice as many discouragements as there are encouragements. And yet, their whole team presses on, girl by girl (they’ve rescued and rehabilitated 534 to date), trafficker by trafficker.He seemed very excited to hear that if Transformed were to go to India it would be focused on prevention. While we talked, they bought us lunch, and found a hotel for us.
Let’s just say that if he wouldn’t have contacted us,
I’m not sure where we would have slept last night,
as all hotels seemed to be full.
G-d clearly went ahead of us and
Worked out the problems we couldn’t foresee.
When we arrived at our lodging, we weren’t really sure what to do with ourselves. It was an extensive compound with a school, and two or three other community-based homes focused on creating an atmosphere conducive to “spirituality and personal development”. A Catholic priest founded ours some hundred years ago. It is surrounded by gardens and banana trees. It is quiet and clean. I woke up to birds chirping this morning. I have a feeling that if we left our doors open all day, our things would be safest they’ve been. Our Father went ahead of us and planned out where we would “lay our heads”. He even put a reading desk in mine, Evan, and Scott’s room where he knew I would sit in the sunlight, reflect, and write this blog.
Like I said, He outdid himself.
