Life is unpredictable.

Kolkata is real. Instead of hiding behind false fronts, here the truth basically smacks you in the face. It's a confusing reality, though- difficult but somehow inspiring, filthy but beautiful, impoverished in so many ways but rich in so many others. It's as if everything here is simultaneously exactly what you think it is and exactly the opposite of what you think it is. Each question always leads to another, and you never know what might happen next. However, despite the unpredictable nature of life here, there are a number of constants that we encounter everyday.
We see rickshaw drivers pulling heavy loads, people carrying huge bundles on their heads, men riding bikes with bundles of chickens tied together by their feet hanging off the bike, people sweeping the streets and carting the garbage away. We hear the beeping of cars, busses and motorcycles, the scratchy voice of the Muslim call to prayer, the ringing of rickshaw bells, the barking of dogs, the sizzling of food being fried at sidewalk vendors, people laughing, people yelling, people saying "hello auntie" or "hello madame", "Mother House? Mother House?", "Shoot my gun? Only one rupee!", "please sister, milk for my baby". We see people sleeping on the streets, children running around, people bathing, herds of goats trotting down the street, people sitting over hot stoves making chai tea, people smashing the little ceramic cups that the chai tea is served in, and geckos scurrying about. We see people selling garlands of flowers, cups of freshly pressed sugarcane juice, slabs of freshly slaughtered meat, sling bags, postcards, sparkly bracelets, underpants, t-shirts, wallets, nail polish, and any doodad and knicknack you could think of. This is all in one moment.
How do we process everything here? Our senses are constantly bombarded, our emotions are constantly pulled in all different directions, and our thoughts are constantly turned upside-down as each moment brings something new to think about. I think it'll take a while to think things through, but I don't know if there are answers to the innumerable questions that arise each day, or if there are even words to describe the complete experience of Kolkata. There's only so much that can be conveyed through language, most of it you have to experience to understand.
It's crazy how fast these three weeks went by- I can't believe we're already done with our service and the rest of the group is going home, it seems like everyone was just starting to get into the groove of this crazy place. I spent most of my days volunteering at Shanti Dan, a home for women who have been abused and women with physical and cognitive impairments, many of whom have been previously incarcerated. Walking into the complex was like walking into an oasis- passing through the gate we saw lush vegetation, beautiful trees full of jackfruit and giant limes, cows grazing, and fish jumping in the little pond. Inside the home, the women sat on the porch surrounding the pretty courtyard. Many of the women at Shanti Dan are capable, so they wash their own clothes, make their own beds and clean the facility. However, the majority of the women's time is spent sitting around doing absolutely nothing, so the main job of the volunteers is to spend time with the women, and to give them the love that they so desperately need. I cut and painted nails, played catch, sometimes picked their lice or cut their hair, and sat and listened to their stories (despite not being able to understand each other's language). I massaged their hands with lotion, thinking about the stories they held in their hands. Some of their hands were babysoft, some hard and calloused, some delicate and fragile, some large and strong, some with missing fingers, some with scars, some with perfect nails, some with diseased nails, some twisted, and some shaky. I wondered about babies their hands had held, the food their hands had prepared, the housework their hands had done, the people their hands had loved, the saris their hands had wrapped, and the lives their hands had lived and touched before going to Shanti Dan.
The women there were so loving towards us, and I loved being able to spend time with them. But even at Shanti Dan there are innumerable contradictions both in the home and in my view of the home. Every morning the sisters give pills out to each woman, so many of them are kind of out of it during the day. Every Tuesday a doctor comes to do electroshock therapy on some of the women. And often there is at least one woman with a chain and padlock around her leg- locked either to a chair or a bed. Why?? Aren't there more effective ways of treating these women? Only a few of the women at Shanti Dan spoke English, but one of them said to me one day, "Sister, I read the Bible. I read the Bible so I don't have to think." Reality is not easy for these women. And I'm going to miss them.
The rest of our group left for the airport a little while ago, and I'm going to miss them, too. We really lucked out in having such a dedicated, hardworking, open and thoughtful group of people, and we all grew together while sharing in this experience. I can't believe it's over. I'm feeling a lot of different things, but I suppose that that's to be expected, considering Kolkata is involved. I'm sad that the group is gone and that I'm leaving the women at Shanti Dan and our other friends in Kolkata, but I'm excited to start a new adventure with Derek. On Tuesday we're off to Darjeeling, so I'm really looking forward to seeing a different part of India, and to be able to contextualize Kolkata a little more in relation to something else. Who knows what tomorrow will bring...