Worship on Sunday in Kolkata

Sunday, 7 December 2008. Kolkata. 5:47 p.m.

What a wonderful, pleasant end to an exhausting weekend in India. I had just finished an interesting visit to yet another Hindu temple, and I turned up famed Sudder Street to my hotel, when . . . yes, there was Christian singing. I then saw the Wesleyan Church building, a stately old wood structure, and realized that it was Sunday and they were worshipping. When I entered the building, a group of young adults with a guitar – a praise team, no doubt – was leading the introductory song: “Come let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the Lord our God, our maker . . . .” I joined in the singing, and I felt a sense of peace and comfort. It was a nice surprise.

Christianity in fact has a long history in India, after the tradition that Thomas first traveled here to evangelize. In Kolkata (Calcutta), the British brought substantial church culture with them, and it stayed. I’ve seen several large church buildings, but this was the first congregation I saw and heard. They were about 150, largely Indian, and mostly young.

I arrived in Kolkata about 12:00 noon, a full six hours later than the scheduled train arrival time. This was the last of a series of “adjustments” that I had to deal with over the two days. On Saturday morning, I left Varanasi for the train station to finalize the rest of my travel plans; this took about four hours. It seems that Indian business works at its own careful, slow, and thoroughly documented pace; every action, it appears, must be documented in some ledger. Then I returned to the train station for my night train departure, and waited more than five hours. Finally I had my bed for the night, the upper side berth in the AC2 car of the Chambai Express. Although the price is right – about $25 – express it is only in principle. But indeed I made it across North India with little problem, and I join many foreigners in praising the extensive and reasonable train system of India.

Upon arrival here I found my hotel, booked by a friend of a friend. It was my first really bad room experience – up three narrow dirty stairways, down one, up one, around a corner, and into my room, which was dark and, well, dirty, and to my spoiled Western nature, unacceptable. So I traded the $11 per night room for one down the street at $19, and it has hot water as well! What I’m finding repeatedly is that I am not as young as most of the backpackers here, who seem as to match their very meager rooms well, and who seem happy with it all.
Kolkata is often perceived in the West as the city of poverty, in part due to the publicity brought by the ministry of Mother Teresa. Poverty and disease there is, but not measurably more so than in other parts of India. Kolkata indeed is the center of the great intellectual institutions in India, and it also has a rich British heritage in terms of culture, architecture, and infrastructure. So far, I’m finding it quite different from any other place in India that I’ve been. There are more secular dressed women, more large businesses, less cows, less garbage. But certainly my impressions may be skewed by the few areas that I’ve seen today.

Kolkata is known for the goddess Kali, and there is a famous temple here that has a very old history. I visited the temple, where I found myself lined up behind four teenagers who were coming again to this holy place. We walked into a cubicle room that I can best describe as a large wellhouse-looking place, with steps down to a central image of Kali. We snaked around the image and waited for priestly permission to stand briefly in front of Kali before moving on. Often, through a side door, people literally fell down, and were caught, then offered special prayers and were equally blessed by the priest. I was amazed at the emotion that people brought here. They are moved because they do not see the image as an idol, but rather as a manifestation of the god within it. The photo is from a streetside shrine on the way to the temple; no photos were allowed inside the temple area.

After the temple, and then the special time in Christian worship, I walked back to the hotel, only to be met by the loud Muslim call to prayer. Somehow, it seemed a fitting end to a busy weekend.
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P.S. Photos are difficult to download on some internet cafe computers. will add later.