It's hard not to love it here...

I walk down the streets here, in the muck and the dirt, amidst the crazy masses of people and I wonder at why I love this place. I see the uniformed police officers holding their sticks, standing next to a man who is missing his legs, lying in the dirt and trash, and I want to scream at the injustice of this place. And yet there is something that draws me here. I see women who have been set on fire by their husbands for apparent disrespect, left with nothing but brutal scars and enormous pain, and I just want to cry on their behalf, to bear a little pain for them. Sometimes this place is horrible and unfair and I hate it. I hate the way women are treated, the way men grab at us on the streets, the way dogs are kicked and animals are starved and pregnant, the way children run barefoot in the garbage, and the way women hold their naked babies, begging milk for their young bellies. I hate how giant the problem is, how every solution that I wonder about, dissolves quickly in my mind before I can utter it.

But as I said, I hate and love this place. Why do I love it here? Why am I drawn in? It is not pity for the pain that keeps me somehow loving it here. Pity would not be enough. Any foreigner who walked these streets could not help but to feel sorry for the pain and suffering that is here, but that is not the point. It is sad, it is hard, but that is not the point. There is something more here. There is rawness and human spirit. Their is resiliency and laughter, of all things. There is adventure and flexibility. I want to dare to say there is even joy here.

People are deeply spiritual, finding much meaning around them. They work so hard and are grateful for a job. And people smile, people always smile. I cannot put coins in everyone's open hands, but I offer a "Namaste" or ask them how they are, saying "Kamanachen?" and they warm up. They open their hearts and we connect for the tiniest moment. They open up to a white, middle class foreigner who knows so very little about their way of life. And we find ourselves laughing together, laughing with often very few words to speak, but laughing still, despite the city, despite our differences.

I find myself strangely missing Kolkata already. I will miss the bus ride to Kalighat, the men giving up their seats and the ridiculous traffic. I will miss the women at Kalighat, their sweet faces and how they smile when I hold them. I will miss our group, the reflections each night, the meals shared together, the inside jokes that will be hard to explain when we get home, the "family outings," all of us marching down the street together. I will miss the awesome adventure in every moment here. After all, most days in Vermont you do not get raw meat dropped on you from a bird, have your cab break down multiple times, get to haggle with street vendors, see men peeing in the road, have your hand kissed by strangers, and have to squat over a toilet hole.

~~However, I do have to admit that there are some luxuries that I am looking forward to in good ol' Vermont. Top on my list at the moment is Cabot cheddar cheese, followed closely by fresh, raw vegetables! I am also looking forward to remembering what it feels like to stay clean for longer than five minutes after a shower and to pee in a decent toilet that even flushes! :-)