Mother India

Father God, You have shed Your tears for Mother India
They have fallen to water ancient seeds
That will grow into hands to touch the untouchable
How blessed are the poor, the sick, the weak

-Mother India, Caedmon's Call 


     Recently, I was presented with the opportunity to travel to India. I went with a group of about 10 people from my school. During our time there, we visited a local village and met some of the families who lived there. I commented to my friend, "I feel like every picture I take could be on the cover of National Geographic."  Everywhere I turned, I was faced with scenes I had only ever seen in documentaries or magazines. It was as though I had stepped into one of the pictures, and was able to interact with it, to examine every detail for myself. A previously surreal reality became tangible, and suddenly I was able to call the children by name, to smell the smoke coming from the fire laden with dried cow dung, to watch the mother hen, baby chicks in tow, run across the path ahead of me. One of the girls was proud to show me how she could climb onto the roof of her house (or hut,rather) to cut down a squash from the vine that had grown over the thatched-together palm leaves. Two of the girls took it upon themselves to braid my hair, adding flowers to the loose tendrils that fell out. A young boy watched me curiously as I took a picture of him eating his dahl and rice. 

     These children each had their story, each had their tale to tell. And now they have become a part of my story, an element of my life's anthology of anecdotes. And as I relay the story of my time with them, I will always reflect on the mystery of their joy. The children did not have princess comforters or remote-control cars. I did not encounter any video games or barbie dolls. There was not a McDonalds within 100 miles of the place, and the kids had never before watched a Disney movie -- and yet, they were joyful. The smiles I saw on their faces far outshone any I have seen before, and the genuineness of their joy took me by surprise. They have next to nothing, and yet they have the one thing we most desperately seek in our culture -- contentment. How blessed are the poor, the sick, the weak