May 2004 - End of Trip
My last Sunday at Kalighat we all participated in mass. Even though I'm not Catholic, the novice Sister Mary Radiance asked me to do the Old Testament reading and responsorial psalm. Not knowing what exactly that involved or what a "responsorial psalm" was, I agreed. Plus, she was a nun, and you just don't say "no" to a sister of the Missionaries of Charity. Turns out it was simply participating in the mass by reading to the audience. I walked up to the altar and looked outward . . . . Read more . . .

April 2004
While Protima spends her days on Sudder Street asking people for money and spends her nights sleeping at Sealdah train station, her real home is in "the village." Many people in the poorer, lower class come to Calcutta from the rural villages of West Bengal, Bihar or other states to find jobs and make money . . . in order to go back to village life. Few are successful; most, as far as I can tell, are lucky if they have enough money to travel back to their villages once every eight months. Some are even less fortunate: hard times can require taking on debt . . . . Read more . . .

March 18, 2004
Bengalis are known for their hospitality, I read somewhere. I arrived in Calcutta knowing no one; only through friends did I connect with the Word Made Flesh folks. I came also with two phone numbers in my pocket: for Dr. S.K. De and for Supriyo Mallick. On the Palace on Wheels, I met a delightful and very smiley doctor from Cleveland: he was born and raised in Calcutta. He told me to contact his good friend from his school days, Dr. De, and also his nephew Supriyo. "They will look out for you," he said. Read more . . .

March 14, 2004
Calcutta is image overload. Upon stepping onto the street I am immediately bombarded with images. Worn rickshaws in various states of disrepair (and the drivers themselves in various states of disrepair). Women in brightly colored saris. Bollywood movie posters. Chai tea stands with old tin pots and little single-use clay cups. Portraits of Hindu gods Kali, Krishna, Shiva or Ganesh, with garlands of bright yellow and orange marigolds strung over the portraits. Read more . . .

March 10, 2004
You may recall I have previously written about a few of my favorite patients at Kalighat. The latest development with Sima is surprising. The open wounds on Sima's legs, which previously were putrefied, green and full of maggots, are now, while still open, showing nothing but new pink tissue. Cleaning Sima's wounds is still very painful for her, and we require a third person to sit near her head to hold her hand, sing to her and give her water. Read more . . .

March 5, 2004
As I've mentioned before, the most beautiful women in the world are in fact the sisters of the Missionaries of Charity. It's a different beauty, one more rare than anything you'd find in In Style magazine: it is a combination of a loving heart, clean living, simple lifestyle and gracious, peaceful spirit devoted to God. In the chapel of the Mother House, there is a sign that itemizes what a Missionary of Charity is . . . . Read more . . .

February 22, 2004
In Bengali, Nirmal Hriday (nur-MALL hur-DIE) is translated "Home for the Dying and Destitute." It was the first Missionaries of Charity home, and is considered "Mother Teresa's first love." There are many other homes here in Calcutta (and all over the world): Daya Dan, for handicapped boys, Shanti Dan, for women with mental problems and their children; Shishu Bhavan, for handicapped children and toddlers . . . just to name a few. Read more . . .

February 10, 2004
The story goes like this: Mother Teresa was of the Order of Loreto, teaching school in Calcutta. She received an unmistakable series of visions from God telling her to begin a new order, based in India, to serve the poorest of the poor. She detailed these visions in letters to the bishop, who revealed those letters to the public only after her death. Read more . . .

January 29, 2004
I took a Jet Airways flight from Delhi to Kolkata (JA is a private airline based in India). Before takeoff, I situated myself in my comfortable seat, leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Delhi and the Palace on Wheels had been quite an experience; an overload of sights, sounds and smells. Read more . . .

January 26, 2004
There are animals everywhere. Cows roam the busy downtown streets. Stray, ragged old dogs and their ragged puppies are in the dozens by the block. There are even wild pigs snorting for food in the rubbish. Read more . . .

January 24, 2004
I arrived at the Delhi Cantt railway station to begin my train tour across the Indian state of Rajasthan on the grandly-named Palace on Wheels. It is a private train, like the Orient Express, that takes 150 or so people to see marvelous historical sites located in Northern India. Read more . . .

January 22, 2004
The slickest salesperson I've ever seen is at the Nirula Cottage Industry Bazaar in Old Delhi. My English-speaking tour guide for the day, Ashish, took me to the Bazaar as I mentioned I wanted to buy a pashmina shawl (it's colder here than I anticipated). Read more . . .

January 18, 2004
My plane landed at Indira Gandhi Airport, and as it rolled up to the gate, I began to get nervous. My heart was beating fast, my stomach hurt and tears almost welled up in my eyes. My journey was about to begin. Read more . . .