India

Feb 7

The answer ‘America’ was normally sufficient enough when asked where I was from, but not today. “More specifically” the young, jovial, bald man asked with a smile that urged me to tell everything.

“Well, I’m from Cincinnati, Ohio and she’s from Arkansas.” I said pointing to my good friend and fellow volunteer Heather.

After explaining our reason for staying in Delhi and how long we will be here he offered us what many other Indian’s have offered us, chai and anything else we needed.

“My office is upstairs. Anytime you need anything just come on up. If things get rough over the next two months or you just want to chat, that’s where you can find me.”

Jeremy was the pastor of the Delhi Bible fellowship and his warm heart and message sure did make me feel welcome. Heather works in another slum 40 minutes from where I work and her Christian teacher offered us this Sunday getaway. Since I have been to India I have been to a Muslim prayer, a Hindu service, two Hindu temples, two Sikh temples, and even what many call a cult temple, but not once had I been to a church. I didn’t really think much about it until Heather invited me to go with her and her teacher. When I though about it I realized it was probably the perfect thing for me; something I could really compare to life at home.

I didn’t have many plans for the weekend so Sunday was it and when Saturday came I started to worry. I was sick again and this time with a fever. Eating wasn’t an option, because I knew I would throw up whatever my throat would swallow. So despite a four-hour nap I went to bed at ten tired, sick, and hungry. I told Heather to call me at ten in the morning and if I answered I would be going with her and if not, I was dead.

When ten rolled around I was already ready and even playing some music. Besides my hunger I felt great. I confirmed our outing with Heather, had some chai and toast, and was out the door. The rickshaw took us through Delhi and through a heavily Muslim area of town where the street signs were not only in Hindi, but Arabic as well. This fed into an area filled with Catholic fellowships, Christian schools, and YMCA/YWCAs. This aspect of India never fails to amaze me; one area of religion, culture, or life, just simply blends into the next in an un-phased manner without any since of real conflict.

As we pulled up to the church we got out and handed the rickshaw driver the agreed upon amount, 50 rupees. “No, no, no!” he shook. In his Hindi, what I think he was saying was, “50 rupees is only $1, which is a very small amount, give me more!” I did agree that 50 rupees was a small amount for the distance we traveled, which was about 35 minutes, but I was unsure of what he wanted. We offered 60, which he denied. Finally, I got a price out of him, “200 rupee” he declared. Often times people trying to sell a service or product will make you say a price first so that they can possibly get more then they expected. They automatically increase the price for foreigners, but maybe it was his lucky day; maybe we were those foreigners who have no since of Indian currency. It was not that day.

“Here’s 100” I said as we crossed the street towards the square building’s large archway.

We were told the service started at 11 and the unexpected long drive had made us late. We hurried to the door and as soon as we got there we were greeted by two outstretched hands, one for each of us. The hand in front of me belonged to a philosophical, young, Indian, by the name of David. He welcomed me to the church and told me we were early, the service actually started at 11:30, we could breathe again. Then he asked where I worked.

“Pappan Kalan. Isn’t that near Dwarka?”

“Yes! Very close to there” I said surprised that finally someone knew about this neglected area.

“I lived in Dwarka.” He exclaimed as he pointed to his chest. “You should stop by one of our ‘home sessions’ on your way home from work. People would really enjoy to have you there and there will of course be good Indian food”

The home sessions turned out to be bible studies and David definitely didn’t host the only one. I soon found a map littered with pins of the places followers could go weekly to study outside of the church. Dwarka was an hour away from where I live and the church was 35 minutes away, the other way. That is an hour and 35 minute drive for David and his fellow Dwarkans to get to church, a journey that is simply unacceptable if this weren’t the closest church. India really is about communities and we were in the Christian one of Delhi. This is why there were so many bible studies. Since obviously members couldn’t meet at the church twice a week when they had such a commute, they would meet at different houses in the surrounding areas.

I was blown away by the similarities I saw at this church, from the greeters, to the times, and from the pastor to the band. The songs I all knew and the set up was all the same. Heather and I both agreed it was almost uncomfortable how similar it was. We joked saying it was like church at home just everyone but us had been to the tanning bed before.

In the end I was glad I experienced this bit of American India and am even gladder I now have another place to turn if a problem arises.

Starving, but well rested, I returned with Heather to her flat. We ate and then whipped out the computer. We had had our lazy weekend and now it was time for an adventure. Seeing that we have Friday off for Maha ShivRati (a Hindu holy day), we have decided a nice weekend trip is just what we need. Where to is the only question. Fortunately and unfortunately the possibilities are endless.