Bengal's light to the world

Every city and place has its unique charm on its own. Kolkata, being one of the oldest colonial and metropolitan cities is unquestionably a city of joy.  A spark of joy always engulf me when I am in Kolkata – talkative people, loudest city, yellow color ambassador taxis, mother’s house, rasogullas from KC Das, fiery eyes and tongue protruded goddess Kali, graffiti streets, rich in literature, arts, music, culture, choked crowd, open-air baths, poverty-filled streets, hardships; with all these in balance, the city and its people live in joyfulness with traces of British East India company remnants. Two streets are must to visit when you are in Kolkata, College Street and Sudder Street.

Common sight on the streets of Kolkata

College Street is known for prestigious academic institutions, countless small and big book stores, and India’s biggest publishing house. When I’m in Kolkata, I make a mandatory visit to this Boi Para, called as “Book Town” to purchase few titles after hour-long browsing. My Boi Para visit ends with customary chai in nostalgic Indian Coffee House, a colonial architectural café that attracted city’s intelligentsia like Rabindranath Tagore and Satyajit Ray.  I love the palpable atmosphere of café for endless Bengali gossips and talks.

Backpackers Haven

Backpacking experiences with like-minded vagabonds will take you to Delhi’s Paharganj and Kolkata’s Sudder Street. My next stop would be Sudder Street in Kolkatta for a leisurely stroll in evenings to have a hippie experience in this backpacker’s haven. The sudder street scenes will never evade from my neuronal networks; shopkeepers in flea market cry out for selling their colourful accessories on display, agents hawking me promising a budget and low-cost accommodations, missionaries of charity volunteers group identified by their t-shirts, dance bar girls catwalk on streets giggling making fun on each other with heavy makeup and light clothes showcasing their cleavage, drug peddlers stocking me to supply their contraband drugs and hashish at cheap rates. Sipping a madka chai in sudder street, I savour these moments.

Raised in catholic boarding school since Kindergarden, I was upraised with greater influence of Catholic Christianity faith. The catholic nuns in my hostel days talk about Mother Theresa and her services in Kolkata. I was greatly inspired and touched by the services of her Missionaries of Charity in giving the dignity for dying, compassion to lepers, AIDS sufferers, home to poor, orphans and abandoned in over a hundred plus countries across the globe. 

The modest entrance

As I stepped in Mother’s House in Kolkata, off AJC road this June, I was not completely aware of the emotions which will make me heavy and cry later. I walked into the modest entrance to the world headquarters and residential quarters for the Missionaries of Charity and has been home to Mother Teresa and her sisters since 1953. A simple building with neat floors and purely functional features. The simplicity and strength of the building depicts the lifestyle of its sisters. A sister greeted me with folded hands and gracious smile at the entrance. The lobby was neatly arranged with ornamental plants, a statue of Mother Mary and Mother Teresa. The sister guided me to the tomb of Mother in the ground floor. 

Mother's Tomb

I stepped into the room to offer my prayers to mother’s mortal remains. The tomb was adorned with fresh flower bouquets, jasmine flowers and a candle shimmering on the marble.  In the austere surroundings, I kneeled before the tomb of Mother, touched my forehead to the marbles and closed my eyes offering my silent prayers to God for giving us Mother Teresa to India. She touched the lives of dying millions people in the poorest of poor slums and making them feel wanted and special with medical help and offering them the divine smile.  Tears rolled out of my eyes out without any intention; thinking of Mother, her gallant services and selfless services to the sick and abandoned in a Hindu predominant nation, when communal tensions exploded in bloodshed once upon a time. 

Mother's Room

I spent some more time in the small museum that housed many of Mother Teresa’s possession. Her trademark white cotton sarees with three blue boarders, sandals she wore while walking through the streets of Kolkata were on display along with numerous medals and honours she received all across the world, including the coveted Bharath Ratna award and Nobel Peace Prize medal and citations. Mother’s room in first floor was kept open for visitors for viewing. It was a very small room without any fan, just a single bed, wooden desk and a paired bench. Mother used to write letters to all the branches of Missionaries of Charity, meet dignitaries and visitors in this room.  It was sobering to read, that she passed away in that very room, on that very bed on September 5th, 1997. 

I reached the main doorway of mother’s house to find out, the sister distributing flyers and mothers face imprinted silver dollars. I received the dollars and sat behind her for a conversation. She gave me short brief about various Missionaries of Charity centres in Kolkata – Daya Dan, Nirmal Hriday, Nabon Jiban, Shishu Bhavan,  Prem Dan, Shanthi Dan & Ghandhi Welfare Centre.  The nun also said that all these centres are maintained by services rendered by young volunteers from across the globe. I asked her, what would be the qualification for volunteering in these centres. She smiled at my eyes with an instant reply, “ Loving Hearts and Serving Hands”  are the qualifications for volunteering. She  probed me, do you have those qualifications? The question striked my head with a bang.   After a moment of silence, I replied in positive. She asked me to visit Shishu Bhavan by 03.00 PM for volunteer registration and orientation.  I bid adieu to the nun, thanked her profusely. As usual her reply was short holding the rosary in her hand, praise the lord !

Volunteering card 

Shishu Bhavan was few hundred meters away from Mother’s House housing hundreds of orphan children. The doors are kept open by 02.45 PM for volunteer’s registration. I was waiting there in the tin shed veranda along with couple of other new volunteers. I exchanged customary pleasantries among those volunteers from Germany, Czech Republic, and Slovakia.  A nun from North Eastern state of India, assisted me in completing my registration, verified my identity card and issued me the volunteer’s identity card.  She enquired my area of expertise, suggested to volunteer in Prem Dan centre.  All the volunteers were instructed to assemble in Mother’s House next day by 06.00 AM for prayer mass in chapel. 

Famous among volunteers

Next day, I reached Mother’s house by quarter to six. The nuns assembled in one side of chapel and on the other side, the volunteers took their seats. I joined them by holding a prayer sheet. The mass started with a prayer song by the sisters in devotion and soulful demeanour, followed by reading of Psalms by visiting priest from Holy Bible and meditation.  All the volunteers assembled for simple breakfast – fresh bread from nearby Russian Bakery, banana and a glass of milk. Being the first day of volunteering, I stood in a corner of the veranda. I was soon captivated by the volunteer community; by the warmth and friendliness of the people with their infectious smile.

Google Directions

I meet volunteers from all over the world, including French, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Spaniards, Germans, Americans, Canadians and Irish. Many volunteers are seasoned travellers, while others were volunteering for the first time like me. Placards popped in the crowd, with name of each centre written on the cards. I walked towards prem dan centre placard, and few volunteers followed me in suit. The volunteer who hold the card introduced as Nicholas from Mexico. He was very much cheerful leading our volunteering team by walk to prem dan centre, which was three kilometres from Mothers House. The Google maps will literally fail before Nicholas, as he took us in the narrow typical lanes of Kolkata. 

Prem Dan – Mother Teresa’s home for the sick and dying destitute in Topsia area houses 200+ male and 150+ female inmates. As I entered the home, most of the inmates were out in balcony and courtyard for breakfast. I took a bowl of rice porridge and started spoon feeding an octogenarian on wheel chair with hollow cheeks, and thin torso covered with soiled linen. His glazed eyes were trying to convey something. I cheered him up, brought him to his bed, changed his clothes, gave him the medications and laid him to rest in the bed for a while. 

Coincidental words!

Meanwhile, my fellow volunteers were soaked with sweat, hand-washing the laundry of 200+ male inmates’ clothes in the shiny pre-monsoon June morning. The team divided into sloshing clothes in soap water, rinsing and wringing the garments on the clothes line. There was a strong spirit of teamwork among us. Nicholas was found to be more witty and making fun, as usual cheering up in the laborious task. I wringed a green t-shirt on the cloth line. I was surprised to read the lines on the t-shirt; NEVER STOP LEARNING, BECAUSE LIFE NEVER STOPS TEACHING. It was rare coincidental lines for me, as I always tend to learn in any of the given circumstances of life.

Bed making by volunteers

Some volunteers went to make the bed, where as I assisted a nun who was dressing the pressure sores of bed ridden patients.  The African born nun, was a trained nurse by profession, highly efficient and skilled in her practice too. Without much pain and difficulty, she cleansed the deep wounds of the patients, dressed them with the antibiotic medications. Throughout the procedure, she fondly enquired about me, my family and my profession. I asked the nun, what made her to choose India? In affirmation, she replied that’s because of Mother and Missionaries of Charity. Orphaned by her parents, she was raised by the orderly nuns of Missionaries of Charity in Rwanda, Central Africa. Influenced by Mother and her immaculate services, she determined to become a nun to help the sick and dying. She was indeed very much proud, that she got a rare opportunity to serve in the Mother’s Headquarters in Kolkata. Meanwhile, I taught her simple physical therapy manoeuvres to stretch spastic hyper toned muscles of lower limb to a stroke patient. 

Nicholas!

Nicholas pulled me out to the courtyard, for assisting me to groom the patients. He pushed me a box of shaving set with razor and blades in my hand. I sport a beard and hardly used a razor and blades for self-grooming. I stood puzzled holding the razor, whereas my fellow volunteers cheered me in for the task. An old man in the crowd called me in a husky voice for grooming. I offered a small prayer to the lord and started my job. Rinsing the face with soap lather, and as a trained grooming expert, I removed his beard along with the white foamy lather using the sharp razor gently. Within no time, I mastered the art of it. He smiled till his ears before the mirror on seeing his clean-shaven face. After attending to three more grooming assignments, the volunteers went for a short tea break in mid-morning. 

Later, I went to the Kitchen to help the workers preparing lunch. I washed the fresh mangoes and sliced them in pieces for a fresh fruit salad with bananas. We served the patients with lunch menu of steamed rice, sambar, bajji and fresh cut fruit salad. I took a plate of lunch; started spoon feeding a fragile old man in his sixties. He spoke to me in Bengali which I could not understood completely. I replied him in Hindi, which he didn’t understood I guess. But it was a meaningful conversation between two of us. After lunch, all our team volunteers assembled in the dish washing area for washing the plates, glasses and utensils. It was again a coordinated team task ensuring the vessels are washed properly without wasting much of water. Once the plates are arranged in shelves, our day is done as the inmates return to the bed for an afternoon nap.

Sab theek ho jayega 

The inmates of prem dan come from all sorts of background. Their life stories revealed the wild and darkest side of human nature. I went into the dormitory styled bedroom in search of the African nun to thank her. I could not find her, I heard a strange voice groaning with pain at one corner of the room. I went near the bed to find a man in terminal stages of life.  His malignancy metastased to almost all parts of the body. His voice reduced to whisper, face conveying the agony and pain of his suffering. I sat near to him adjusting the intravenous lines. I hold his hands tightly to give a comfort, stroked his head gently for a soothing effect and said, “sab theek ho jayega ji” translating it to All will be fine. The man looked at me in intense, closed his eyes as tears rolled out from the corner of his parched eyes. Later he raised his frail hand to reach my chin in gratitude.   It is a sight that can move even a hard-edged cynic.

The volunteering team - The world is here!

Few hours of volunteering in Prem Dan, I was moved with intense emotions. Indeed I took many roles – a caretaker, a physiotherapist, a nurse, a barber, a laundry man, a cook, a quiet listener, a healer and more of true human being. In each of these roles, there is a sense of peace simplicity and grace.  The volunteers and the sisters radiate joy and love in all that they do, and I always pray that I can do the same. Missionaries of Charity is a quiet place; a place where the tears of the dying and the tears of the searching meet; a place where east meets west; where boundaries are broken. I was continually humbled; at the old man who thanked me for helping him eat, the smile from the old man after his clean shave, African nun’s compassion and the fragile man raising his hand in gratitude to me. 

Mother Teresa said, I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples. She indeed created many ripples throughout the world by her compassionate services.

On a closing note, I wish that everyone in the world should have a, loving heart and serving hands to make the world a better place to live. 

Love one another, as I have loved you. (St John 15:12)