Discomfort in India

By Tyler

World Wide Open Ambassador, Asia and Southeast Asia

Some things make me uncomfortable, sometimes these things are hard to explain, or hard to understand, but many of the things that make me feel uncomfortable make other people feel uncomfortable too.  What is being uncomfortable? Is it seeing something that affects you adversely, feeling something, hearing something, or tasting something?  Are things doubly uncomfortable when you experience two or more of the senses at a time?  Is being uncomfortable curable, or removable, can we change ourselves?  More importantly why do we seek comfortable circumstances?  Do we need them?  Can we live without them?  Are we under false impressions?  Are we pursuing the wrong things, therefore things that make us uncomfortable shouldn’t really be causing us to feel that way?

I am not really sure how to answer all the questions I just posed.  But I don know that I felt very uncomfortable during my time traveling in India.  I traveled from Nepal to India via bus, to Delhi via train, to Chandigarh via train, and to Chennai via train.  After arriving in Chennai I stayed there for two weeks. During this time my sense of smell was besieged by the varying smells of India.  The scent can change from one block to another, one block smelling like green curry the next smelling like outhouse.  My personal space was completely invaded on numerous occasions.  I saw things that tore my heart apart, but I could do little to alleviate the pain I saw.  I heard so much noise I thought I would explode.

There is one image that will stick with me forever.  On several occasions I saw a man groveling in the gutter, arms outstretched.  He was wrapped in a small traditional waist wrap, he had no fingers on his upraised hands, and his legs were gone from the knee down.  As I walked past, I tried not to stare, fearing eye contact would cause me to feel too much compassion, and too much guilt for not slowing down to help.  What could I do though?  And what would Jesus have done?  I couldn’t just grab the man up out of the road and carry him into a restaurant, plop him down in a seat and order him some food.  That would cross so many culture no no’s that I would certainly get myself into quite a pickle.  He wasn’t hungry looking anyways, he wasn’t like so many other people we saw who needed to eat much more than their current diet.  I should mention that many lame people are utilized by entrepreneurs to earn money because they get a lot of money for begging because of their infirmities.  This man appeared to be unable to help himself, so I assume he was cared for by someone in exchange for his gutter groveling daily lifestyle.  After arriving at my destination, whether it was the office, the hotel room, or a restaurant, my thoughts returned to this man.  I would wonder if he was still sitting in the gutter, still holding his hands up, fingerless, hoping to receive some comfort, some love.  In the relative comfort of my new settings away from the rush and ramble of the street where the man sat, I could ponder my place in his life, and his place in mine, yet I never did anything for him, other than rush past ignoring his pleas for money.

Nonetheless as I passed by my heart dropped out to my feet, and I felt as if I was an empty person for doing nothing for this man that seemed to be able to do nothing to help himself.  Walking by him again was hard to do, and I avoided any eye contact or even a prolonged glance.  My discomfort level raised up significantly every time I walked by this man. I wanted so bad to return to the office we were working in.  Or the sanctuary of our hotel room.  Anywhere that I would not have to see such pain, such anguish, and find myself unwilling, or unable to help.   Throwing money to alleviate guilt does very little to help the actual problem of poverty.  But doing nothing and passing by without a glance is inhuman, that man although his painful existence is hard take in visually, is a human soul, with human feelings, and he deserves the same respect that anyone else gets.

I came upon a verse in Isaiah 58 that feeds the desire in my heart to help, and I hope will inspire me to go outside myself and my comfort to help others who I see in need.  It reminds us that a fast is about putting ourselves and our agenda, and our feelings, and even our needs aside to help those in need.  Reading the whole of Isaiah 58 or the whole book for that matter is probably more beneficial, but here is just a few verses.  ‘Is this not the fast that I choose; to loose the bonds of weakness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and to bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked to cover him, and not hide yourself from your own flesh?’ (6-7)