India Pilgrimage Faith Education Hands
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n that last night at 1.30 a.m. in the transit lounge of Zia International Airport, Dhaka (Bangladesh), I stepped over the bodies of our 14 students strewn like rag dolls across lounge seats and rucksacks. I could see the utter exhaustion on every face. These boys had just endured five and half weeks of incredible and extraordinary experiences in India. They had had the journey of a lifetime and they had given their all. Each boy had conquered his personal fears and frustrations, and had shown such grace, faith and generosity.
When I think now of Trinity’s most recent Pilgrimage through India, (December 2002-January 2003), I think of the words "transformation" and "blessings". The image that comes into my mind is that of the chrysalis. An Indian pilgrimage is unlike any other school excursion. For five and a half weeks our pilgrims are transplanted from their comfortable and familiar homes and routines into a strange world of chaos, unpredictability and deprivation, and yet rather than give up or complain, these boys had emerged with a new understanding about themselves, their fellow human beings, the world and their God. I remembered how each morning during our final week in Kolkatta (Calcutta) the boys would assemble in the cold and dark, on the front steps of the orphanage at 4.30 a.m. It would have been so easy to have stayed in bed and given in to their deep weariness, but these boys had a special determination not to be beaten. This final week was like the last leg of the marathon. With this stoicism, each boy would suppress his pain, fatigue and discomfort, and soldier on. Never did they respond with discourtesy or indifference, but rather made another mental note for their book of new experiences. We had to arrive at Motherhouse, the head convent of the Missionaries of Charity , before the gate was locked at 6.00 am. Even the Superior General, Sister Nirmala was so impressed with the boys’ fidelity that she asked to meet them and invited them to take a special part in the Sisters’ Sunday liturgy, and she thanked them publicly on their last morning in Calcutta – a unique honour!
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The week spent at MITHRA with the disabled children from the slums of Madras was often thankless and repetitious, and the difficulty of being thrown into such a foreign environment less than 24 hours after leaving home was challenging, but I can remember each boy making the most of every opportunity. At MITHRA, there were many beautiful moments when big tough Aussie lads gently and tenderly interacted with these children who often wanted nothing more than a cuddle. Other times, one of our boys voluntarily wiped excrement from the floor and toileting children at Daya Dan, a home for severely retarded children. I saw other boys struggling with all the sensitivity and kindness they could summon as they tried to put ill-fitting clothes on disfigured children with limbs twisted and stuck in hideous positions from paralysis. At Kalighat, the home for dying destitutes, the boys sat with, nursed and spoke soothingly and lovingly to emaciated men in their dying moments. At Titigarth, the home for men and women with leprosy, our boys embraced the patients who held out their deformed hands. Never once did the boys flinch or show any unease, but rather they demonstrated a real warmth and love. So many times during the pilgrimage each boy was tested to his limits: whether it was the discomfort of ill health, homesickness or the barriers of language in the village schools; the heart-breaking appeals from the beggar-children on the railways stations; the annoying badgering from spruikers, beggars or persistent hawkers or
