Photos of the area around the Taj Hotel

Thoughts on Mumbai

It has been a month almost to the day that my plane lifted off from the International terminal in Mumbai, and yet the events of this past week---the terrible and senseless violence that descended upon this city---have jerked me back there. When the TV news panned the interior of the Leopold Cafe---the shards of glass mixed with blood---my jaw dropped: I ate several meals at those very tables. I could even point to you on the TV screen where I was sitting.

I was directed to the Leopold Cafe by the folks at the Ascot Hotel, where I was a guest.

The atmosphere is one of a friendly, noisey street side pub. Through the open doors to the street vendors would wander in hawking their bango drums and postcards. It was an easy palce to meet people. Sitting next to me I struck up a conversation with a young couple from Holland. They shared with an amazing story: The husband had left his wallet on a bus in Mumbai. The wallet contained a lot of cash. Incredibly, when the couple went to find the bus, they learned that another passenger had picked up the wallet and returned it to the couple---with all the cash still in tact. So, memory of this cafe is a good one, of meeting fellow travelers, swapping stories.

Of course, the thoughts run through my head. What if I just happened to be sitting there on November 26th and not September 29th? And what about the kind waiter who fed me my first dinner on Indian soil. Is he still alive? What about all the other kind people in the Colaba neighborhood of Mumbai who helped this solo traveler? Are they ok?

In my several days in Mumbai, I walked by Gateway India, the Taj Hotel many times. I began to feel at home in this old quarter of Mumbai. And Now? My heart grieves for India and all the peace loving people I met while I was there.

coming back to the USA from India

Nov 18 Now 17 days after returning to the states....But let me take you back to India, to my departure. Arrivals and departures between the United States and India cannot help but be significant moments, times of crossing boundaries, cultural, economic, geographic.

My blog readers will recall my arrival story into India. Mumbai arrival at 3 am, walk out of the airport into the humidity, pollution and humanity of a Mumbai night. The cab driver asleep in his cab, the luggage thrown on top of the cab, tied down with twine, a noctural drive through the rough streets of the city and through the slum of Dharavi where one million are packed into a one square mile.

On Oct 31st, my journey back to the states began with a much delayed flight out of Cochin for Mumbai. I arrived again in this megapolis in the middle of the night. This time a car from a nearby hotel, the Residency Inn, was at the airport to pick me up. (Fortunately, I had checked my luggage all the way through to Chicago, so all I had to carry were my essentials and computer, plus the all important passport.)

I checked in to the hotel at 2 am and set my alarm for 5:30 am the next morning. My flight to Chicago was scheduled to depart at 7:50am. One last time, I was driven through the streets of this huge city, darting between stray dogs, looking at at families asleep on the streets, beginnng to stir. At the airport, I run through a gauntlet of security checks, passport controls. The agent at the Air India counter tells me that there are problems with my ticket. He waves carelessly into the air and says, "see that man over there" Oh, great. there is something wrong with my ticket or passport or something. I am not going to get out of here!

I run to another official looking person. He waves me on.

I exhange a couple thousand rupees back into dollars. I get through passport control. I am confused about where to go next. the Gates are poorly marked. I ask someone, a westerner, "how do you know if this waiting area is for your flight?" they say, "Here in India, they call your flight manually"

At last, with the sun just rising over the hills to the east I board the 747. Window seat. I call my INdia friends one last time on my cell phone that will be inoperable is just a few minutes.

Now safely inside my airplane bubble, I look out my window, towards the east, and the waking dawn. In the morning light I see rows of packed shanties hugging the hillside, up hard against a stone and barb wire fence, the boundary between where the tarmac ends and the poverty begins

I look out at what? People, children, and men, squatting on the hillside taking care of morning business, others retrieving water from buckets, from what appears to be a fetid stream of water.

I see dogs wagging their tails, goats, climbing over garbage.

I AM ONLY A FEW FEET AWAY FROM THESE PEOPLE.....THESE ARE MY FELLOW CITIZENS ON PLANET EARTH...YET IN HOURS I WILL BE A PLACE THEY WILL NEVER KNOW...COULD ONLY DREAM ABOUT....WE ARE SO CLOSE, AND YET SO VERY FAR AWAY.

I ask: WHY IS THIS SCENE OF HUMANITY BEING PRESENTED TO ME FOR MY LAST MOMENTS HERE IN INDIA. IS THE ONE LAST KICK IN THE PANTS FOR THIS FIRST WORLD WESTENER?

Minutes later, I turn to my ipod,the massive engines come to life and India is but a memory.

Hours later, I am wandering around O'Hare in a daze. Potable water? Reliable electricity? Deep dish pizza? Sam Adams Beer? Midwest Accents?

Into my cell phone, I say to my wife, "I can't believe this. I feel like I have come from a different planet." Several who had overheard my conversation, total strangers, come up to me after the conversation and say to me, "WELCOME HOME!"

And yet, and yet....as much as I am glad to be home, back with crisp fall days and corn flakes and pancakes and sidewalks....I still remember my "adopted" child Saranya in India. And I remember all these wonderful people who fed me, who took me into their homes, who extended such love and kindness....and I think yes,

I left India. But India has not left me.

Oct 30. My time is rapidly drawing to a close. At times I've felt as if I am living a movie. Is this real? Am I really here? And now the credits are about to roll, the lights will come on, and walk out into the parking lot and think: "where was I?"

I leave for the airport at Cochin tomorrow afternoon. The flight arrives in Mumbai at 10 pm. I stay in a hotel near the airport. Next morning, Saturday, I depart on an Air India flight for Chicago, via Frankfurt, Germany. And then to Kansas city and home. If only, and you know this is coming, could click those heels. "Three times" the good witch said.

So much to ponder, but for now, it will be good to be home. "There is no place like...." You know the rest.

Me and Saranya, our "sponsored" child, sharing of gifts

kitchen at orphanage, street life

thoughts on India's religious pluralism

Oct 29 While it is true to say that sectarian strife has occurred and continues to plague this nation, what is also true, and rarely makes headlines, is that this nation of over 1 billion people is, in many ways, a marvel of religious tolerance, and acceptance. Yes, there are political parties here that exploit religious tensions. In particular, what is happening is flexing of radical Hinduism's political muscle, through a party known as RSS with ties to the BJP. Yes, they see religions other than Hindus as foreign to India. And there has been some terrible atrocities of late, in particular, in the state of Orissa.

But here is the other side of the story: India is an example of religious groups living, worshipping side by side with remarkable respect for the other. Remember this is tolerance not in the sense of religion is unimportant so who cares. Religion is terribly important here and you have only to spend a little time here to see on an hourly basis the fervent practicing of faith.

Anecdote: I preached last Sunday at a CSI church in Chennai, once at the 7 am English service and then again at the 9 am Malayalam service. No, I did not preach in Malayalam!!
But as I was preaching you could hear the constant "Ka Boooom" of fireworks going off as local folks celebrated Diwali, the Hindu festival of light which leads Rama from exile back home.
Then still later in the day, as the Hindu fireworks reached a peak, you could also hear above the bangs the Minaret of the Mosque calling the people of Islam to prayer. As I wore my cassock here I have felt treated with enormous respect by Christian and Hindu alike. I have seen Hindus worshipping in Christian Churches. As my Indian friends tell me: most lay people don't want to hedge their bets: why not worship Vishnu, Shiva and Mary all at once.
As Americans we tend to forget the people of this nation have experienced Christianity and Hinduism side by side for many, many years. At the same time, I also learn that the cost for Hindus who convert to Christianity can be pretty high: being left out of Hindu festivals, being cut off from family members....
The take away about religion here is this: The people of India seem almost hard wired for faith, not the discussing of it, the parsing of it, but the practicing of it in many shapes and forms...Going into a Hindu temple and witnessing the fervency of the adherents is quite an experience.