Sabbath day

Once a week we are required to take a day off.  It is a good idea.  How we spend the day is up to us.  This was my latest Sabbath day:

8:30am: We sleep in and have a late breakfast.  My plan is to spend the day doing online Bible studies, emailing friends, and checking sports scores.  Before I start, wet laundry is hung over the computer, disabling it for the day.  Time for a new plan.

10:30am: I take off on a walk.  Several miles away is a park that I’m told is quiet.  On the way I see guys lying on the sidewalk, some of whom are not in a good state.  The thought comes to mind that these are the kind of guys the Missionaries of Charity look to care for.  They stay on my mind and I feel for them.  But I walk past and head towards the park.

I realize I have taken the wrong bridge across the river, and end up in a trashed area where a few Indians are bathing.  I make friends with a water buffalo and watch birds.

Noon: I decide that the park is to the south.  On the way I enter a concrete structure and notice middle-class Indians on a bench.  I almost walk past them before they call me over and point out that I am walking through a ghat (Hindu crematorium).  In front of us are bodies in various stages of burning, and I had walked past three who had been burned earlier in the day.  I am embarrassed, but they don’t seem to mind.  The men ask me to sit down with them.  First they ask me questions, then share about themselves and about the work colleague who had died.  O.P. gives me a reference to a friend of his who teaches Hindi to foreigners, and we exchange numbers.  I say goodbye and turn back the way I came.

12:30pm: As I walk back, I pass an older man picking through trash.  He pleads for me to give him something.  I tell him that I can’t and walk by.  Thoughts race through my mind, trying to figure out why I just did that.  I can’t come up with a justifiable reason, so I turn and walk back, handing him 50 rupees.  That’s not enough for an American or wealthy Indian to even buy a coffee – this guy will stretch it over 4-6 meals if he’s careful.  Internally, I pray for him.

I make my way around the ghat, but first must pass through an open area where guys are hanging out in the afternoon shade.   A monkey walks along the wall.  Several men on a mat call me over, and I sit down.  One speaks English.  They ask me about my time in Delhi.  They tell me that this is a government homeless camp.  Dhinender shows me their home – a temporary tin building.  Inside is a television, water, and sleeping mats for 40-50 guys.  The paid employee manning the door looks at me oddly, but doesn’t say anything.  Dhinender was eager to show me the setup, but finds little to say about it and we go back.  There are several of these temporary buildings in a row.

Back with the guys, they offer me water and cigarettes.  They tell me that they start playing games around 4pm – cricket, volleyball, chess.  I say I’ll play some other day, but today my wife expects me home.  They try to convince me, and then to schedule an exact day when I’ll come back.  My schedule is packed, and I can’t give them a time.  I say my goodbyes and continue wandering.

1:30pm: After a long walk past the ghat, a historical site, a small bustee, and a stretch of scrub, I reach the park.  It is almost empty on this hot day – perhaps 50 Indians spread over its narrow mile, and no farengii besides myself.  Some men and women are laboring in a canal.  A group of boys and young men are playing in the lake.  The park is quiet compared to my bustee, but so was the riverside, the ghat, the homeless camp, and the scrub.  Halfway down, a man on the other side of the lake calls out to me and insists that I come over.  I try to mime that the lake is in the way, but he insists and shows me across.  We sit down and talk about our lives in Hindi.  He delivers clothing with his small vehicle.  He does not have positive things to say about the bustee where I live.  We talk about planes and fishing.  After a time together sitting in the shade, I bid my farewell.

2:30pm: On the way back I take the correct bridge.  Unfortunately, large sections of the footpath lie on the bottom of the river.  It feels like a very long crossing as I pick my way past the bad parts and wonder whether I’m the largest guy who has ever walked on the “good” parts.  I snap a few photos.  

Late afternoon: I arrive home earlier than I expected, having experienced more than I expected.  I spend the next few hours taking a bucket bath, washing clothes, tending to the drying computer, tidying up, studying Hindi.  The day’s encounters play through my mind.  What have I learned today?  Why did I meet the guys that I did?  With all the pain that I saw, why did a day like today give me so much energy to keep on striving here?