First Impressions
 Our band wanders out into the streets of Calcutta
    hesitantly, with a touch of anxiety.
 As a veteran traveler I am calm
    sure within myself
       that I will be safe from the shock of anything that might be new.
 At every corner and in between are
    beggars,
       butchers,
          and sellers of  “things.”
 At every turn and in straight-aways
    harsh realities come alive.
 There is a dead dog next to a girl drawing pictures
    a deformed old man talking nonsense to himself
       the foul smells and loud sounds of taxis and rickshaws
          a horde of flies and human feces on mounds of trash.
 Amid the crowds, odors of food, and looks of desperation.
 I am not shocked -- just stunned (in denial)
 My senses have been overwhelmed.
 

The Streets
   The streets of Calcutta are crowded. People live here. People sleep here. Merchants sell here. Children play here. The old and the sick often die here.
   Unlike American city streets, Calcutta streets stay busy 24 hours a day. All the streets are active. There is no escape to a quiet place except if one goes inside oneself.
Life on the streets in Calcutta is exciting. Life on the streets of Calcutta is depressing. Business people and beggars mix. Children and dogs make noise. Men bathe. Women are seen going to market or in door ways.
   These streets are indelibly etched in my mind. They are the standard for what streets should and should not be. They are lively and have a rhythm of their own. They are loud with the sound of horns, barking, yelling, and running conversations. They smell with the aroma of baked foods, vegetables, decaying garbage, and raw sewage. They are unique in that they handle and represent so much.
   Like ribbons, streets tie the lives of people in Calcutta together. You cannot live here and not be a person of the streets.
 
 

Calcutta Crows
 Calcutta, you are a city of crows.
 Few other birds live here.
 Few other birds could live here (except vultures).
 I watch as your winged symbols swoop down to scavenge.
 They walk and swank about like they own you
 And for now ... they do.
 

Street People
 They lay still like stones
    up against buildings and walls
       covered with burlap sacks or coarse blankets.
 Other people, full of life, like water,
    are careful to avoid the rocks
       beneath them.
 
 

Beggars
 They pull at my heart as well as my shirt
    with their needs and outstretched hands.
 Emotionally and numerically they overwhelm me.

 Sometimes out of a lack of courage
    (more than a depletion of coins)
  I walk on quickly without looking
     Hoping they’ll disappear
 Yet inside I know they will follow
    Even in my dreams.
 

What You Can Get in Calcutta
 You can get a Pepsi in Calcutta
 And most diseases ever known.
 Be smart, have a Pepsi.

Mother Teresa
 She looks just like her pictures
    small, frail, stooped, and wrinkled.
 It is good to see godliness in the flesh
    full of life with no surprises.
 

Helping
 How do you help the destitute
    and give them more than a handout?
 How do you heal the pain of  poverty
    and the broken spirits of a people?
 Rupee coins and personal awareness
    only begin to address the questions.
 
 

Sunday Bath at Naba Jabin
 The boys come in off the streets in waves
    bringing with them dirt and a spirit of adventure.
 Lifeboy soap and cold well water
    in the hands of volunteers and brothers
 Challenge the filth of clothes and bodies
    in a bath scene full of good-natured fun.
 After the cleansing there is immersion
    into the world of make-believe and frolic
       as games are made up and played out.
 For an hour all are equal
    as a mixture of humanity blends together
       and harmony prevails.
 But time takes its toll
    and after a lunch of steamed rice and vegetables
       the gates of Naba Jabin are opened
 And the inner courtyard
    once filled with boys and noise
       empties into silence.
 
 

The Wish
 I wished this trip upon myself
    when I said last year
       “I’d rather go than be a sponsor.”
 Since then I’ve learned to be careful about what I wish for --
    A wish can change your life.
 

The Poor
 When Jesus said: “You will always have the poor”
    He could have added
       “To see them in mass, visit Calcutta.”
 Within this polluted and disease-ridden city
    live a crowd of the world’s most impoverished.
 Yet the poor are more than meet the eye.
 They are affluent and middle class people
    down in spirit and apathetic to needs.
 They are those within my sight
    out of touch with their own humanity.
 They are my neighbors
    They are my friends
       “They” are me.
 
 

Cold Water
 In Calcutta you have a choice
 You can have a shower with cold water
 Or you cannot have a shower.
 I prefer the former although on occasions
    the latter is best.
 It depends on whether the water system works
    and how many layers of dirt I am wearing.
 

Change
 Before I left home I promised Claire
    I wouldn’t change too much.
   I have kept my promise ... almost.
 The differences I bring back are subtle --
    a new beard
    a tired body
    a challenged mind
    a head full of memories.
 My view of the world has shifted only slightly
    I now know there’s a Calcutta
       wherever I live.
 
 

Mother and Daughter
 Hand and hand they walk down a dusty street
    with clean bronze skin but dirty dresses.
 The mother must have aspirations
       for her daughter to move beyond this place.
 But where do you move in Calcutta
    to get away from the dirt and despair?
 
 
 

Sutter Street -- 5 am
 We walk in a small cluster of six
    backpacked Americans
    in the slums of a ghetto city
 Around us early morning fires give off thick charcoal smoke
    and light the way unevenly.
 Sutter Street is almost empty
    only an occasional stirring occurs
       as a dog digs through garbage
       or one of the people under a plastic canopy
       near the wall of  the Salvation Army awakes.
 I am filled with heavy thoughts
    as I picture a child to whom I gave candy yesterday
    beg for food today.
 Calcutta, you embody the worst of us
    bringing out the best of us
    sometimes with surprise.
 I will not walk this street again
    after this morning’s quick stroll
 But I will see it mentally
    I will feel it physically
       I will smell its foul odor
          Hear its sharp shrill cries
             And sense its never-ending needs.
 Then I will be moved in unsuspecting moments
    and know again
    the reasons
    why I came this way.
 
 
 

Howrah Station
He stoops over a man he met by chance
   pouring water onto his open wounds
      and gently cleaning them.
He has been drawn to help
   by a caring eye and a sensitive heart.
I watch the would-be-doctor
   a pre-med sophomore from Tennessee
Act like the professional he aspires to be
   stepping our to minister and meet the unknown.
The Indian man laying before him
   is twice his age
   with infinite needs
   and no real hope of survival.
Juice is bought and given
   bringing a slight smile to the sun-parched lips
   of a patient wrapped in agony.
Crackers, biscuits, and a blanket follow
   filling a void for nourishment and a relief from swarming flies.
The action is interrupted
   by the arrival of the afternoon train to Delhi
   and the inflexibility of schedules
   as our group must depart .

Tonight, the older man will likely die
   alone and abandoned
   just another statistic in the chaos of Calcutta.
But in the final hours
   care came from a stranger
      who awakened to himself
         and to his neighbor in the station.
In death comes life.