5 minute read
Pilgrimage to India
Faith Education Hands
On 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! 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
just someone staring and asking for a photo. Life in India assaulted their every sense. Every mode of transport was a challenge, whether it was getting used to sleeping on third class trains surrounded by strangers, or chugging along in a bus for hours, or careering through laneways in an auto-rickshaw. Smells of incense, food and sewerage wafted by and every vehicle tooted or honked its horn and chugged out sickening fumes. Cows blocked our pathways in streets and we were constantly on the alert for pickpockets. Perhaps the most taxing aspect of the pilgrimage was the struggle of living out of a rucksack for five and half weeks without our loving families, safe meals and the security of one’s own home. There was also the constant rub of living with the same group! Not one of them was beaten. Each day they would face up enthusiastically to whatever India had to offer. I could see them struggling to come to terms with Mother Teresa’s challenge to "see Christ in his distressing disguise." This was why they had come to India.
These boys are not saints or heroes or particularly extraordinary, but simply generous and good-natured young Aussies who picked up the challenge of Matthew’s gospel of believing that whatsoever they did for the least of those they met, they were doing it to Christ Himself. It was this realisation, I believe, that kept them going. Each one of them deeply desired to live up to the challenge of being "a man for others". It would be wrong to pretend that these everyday teenagers had mystical or miraculous experiences. Indeed, there were many ordinary moments. There were those special and sacred moments too, during not only our nightly group reflections, but especially when different individuals encountered the poorest of the poor of our world; when they reached out with a gentleness and a reverence that made me believe that we all knew that we were on holy ground and in the presence of our Lord.
Brother Robert Callen
Pilgrimage Leader
