Arrival to Kolkata ~ Morning Routine

En Route to Kolkata, my flight was delayed in London and I was able to tour the city for a few hours. Despite the rain it was beautiful, and I got to see all the sights: Big Ben,     Buckingham Palace, Parliament, as well as many of the parks. I even got to pray/sleep for an hour in Westminster Abbey, which was beautiful. What a contrast from India! From the first step out of the plane in Kolkata I was hit by the intense humidity, and the disorganization of everything. Going through customs there were no guidelines. I had no idea what I was doing but just followed everyone else. On the taxi ride to my hotel I saw men climbing on top of trucks packed high with boxes, homes made of cardboard and bamboo on the sidewalks, and I realized that there are no traffic rules in this city I would call home. Even stoplights are disregarded unless police officers are legislating. Instead, there is the constant, incessant screeching of horns, bells from the Ricksaws, and whistles from the trains.  For this reason Kolkata is never, ever silent.

The next morning I woke up at 5am for mass at the Motherhouse at 6am. I was serving with the Missionaries of Charity, and they welcomed all the Volunteers to mass in the morning. Each morning I would walk the 20 minutes to the Motherhouse at 5:30am, watching people burn trash on the street, men sleep on rags on the side of the road, the rush by the water spickets as drivers clean their taxis, and take baths, and my personal favorite, the bikers with 80 live chickens hanging upside down on either side of the front and back of the bike. Once I almost got hit by the chickens, who are on their way to the butchers lining the streets. I screamed. The roads of Kolkata, I would find, are full of men and few women, who in their society stay mostly at home. This being the case the men stare at you constantly, which was very uncomfortable at first, but to which I eventually disregarded as ‘normal’ the longer I was there. 

The Motherhouse is a haven in the city. It is cleaned several times a day, with bleach! The mass, adoration, and the prayers are a constant in a city which provides few similarities to my life at home. The sisters are so welcoming, and are dedicated to serving and living like the poor. Each day ascending to the chapel we would take off our shoes, and see the crucifix with a map of the world beneath it. Mother instructed the postulants to recognize the Thirst for Jesus on the Cross and satisfy it by spreading the good news to the whole world (thus the map). On the side of the cross was a chalkboard  containing a quote of Mother Teresa which changed each day. My favorite was “Love to be genuine, must hurt. It must rid us of self.”  The mass each morning was so beautiful. The Volunteers from countries all over the world including Italy, Spain, Argentina, France, Malta, United States, Japan, South Korea, China, Taiwan, and Austria would sit on the far right and the sisters would sit on the floor in the middle and left of the large room surrounding the altar. The sisters provided fans for us (we were wet with sweat by the time we reached the Motherhouse), but they themselves had no fans facing them. At the consecration (when we as Catholics believe that the bread and wine become Jesus’ body and blood) all of us would bow down so that our head reached the floor. It was so simple, so beautiful, and so profound. Mother’s words that she could not serve unless she received her God in the mass became all the more relevant. 

My Friend and I holding a sign for Prem Dam, the home
for disabled and dying women where we worked in
the mornings.

After mass we would go down to the volunteer room, where we were served 2 slices of white bread, bananas, and chai tea, which you find wherever you go in Kolkata from clothes shops to restaurants and street stalls. After eating we would pray together and sing a song called: We have our hope in Jesus. When I was sick a few days later, I fell asleep singing this song. It really calmed me down! Then we sing another song to thank the volunteers for whom it is their last day. Then we were off! Some of us went to work in Homes for the dying, others taught disabled children, others took care of the handicapped, or fed poor in the city and bandaged their wounds in a dispensary. Later in the day most of us  meet back for lunch around Sudder street, the section of the city where most of us lived.