Kahli Temple

Today we slept in. It's our day off. We walked with our neighbors Verity and Sophia, three blocks down the street in the busy morning traffic of Thursday and into the dimly lit, empty restaurant of a hotel. "Expensive" breakfast this morning because the mother house was not open today. So we paid the equivalent of $2.00 for "frenchtoast", scrambled eggs and chai. Krista and I listened like two kids tuned into Saturday morning cartoons as Verity gave us a few hilarious stories about herself. Verity is 28 and catholic, grew up in the suburbs of London, and has volunteered at the Mother house for 11 yrs. She briefly lived in New York as a caretaker for a nun who wrote a famous book about Mother Teresa. There she dated a 62 yr old jewish cardiologist and fell in love. When, on her birthday months later she threw a leopard print shoe at him and accidently hit a police officer she was arrested and bailed out by the sister, her relationship came to a halt. She is hilarious. Heavy accent and a wild artistic style of dress which hints at a desire to stand out rather than fade into the background as Krista and I hope to do.Verity is golden and in high demand here in Kolkata- everyone knows her and the sisters rely on her heavily. She is more at home here than in London.

We parted ways with Verity and Krista, Sophie and I headed back to the guesthouse to meet three of Sophie's friends from Spain- none of them spoke English, all of them in their 50's maybe- I recognized them from Prem Dan yesterday. They were leaving India this evening and said tearful goodbyes to the patients of Prem Dan yesterday. One of them is a nurse and was excited to meet Krista, as she hopes I am sure, Krista will take her place.

Anyway- these ladies took us on an adventure. We saw ALOT of Kolkata today. The Victoria Memorial- a huge beautiful white marble structure with manicured lawns- a remnant from the british colonization. Packed with documents, and paintings , and tourists. No photography allowed- The cieling of the main hall was high and domed with clarestory windows, european style decoration and an oculus - trapped birds flew around and around near the top and light poured in cutting the stagnant pale air inside with white shafts. I took a video of that cieling with my flip camera. I couldnt resist. Thanks Pete for giving me a departing gift that makes me feel like a spy. The guards that patrolled the memorial carried rifles- they didnt have a clue.

Then a grand tour of the city- 17 million people call this place home. Of course, there is no way to possibly know if that figure is true. That is probably a modest estimate. Our cab took us down winding streets, over the Hooghley river, I think it was, on first the old bridge and then the new suspension bridge- the first major large construction project the city has commisioned. I held my breath the whole time we crossed it. Who knows how stable that is?

We drove past the train station and twenty minutes later into the Kalighat district- the oldest in Kolkata. This city is named for Kali, the goddess of death and distruction- often pictured as a woman with her tounge elongated and outstretched and her many hands grasping the hair of her victims severed heads. Bloody and violent- I wish I understood the symbolism in her images and how this supposedly translates into hope and peace as the hindu belief claims. I do know this though- the temple we visited today is considered the most important of the five in Kolkata.

We were given a tour of the temple by a freindly man who greeted us with blessings of health and prosperity. He led us down the aile where they slaughter male goats every morning and a male bull once every year. Blood and dirt and grime covered the floor and made it dark and sticky and women stood barefooted in the mess and swatted at flies as they laid flowered garlands on the killing place inside the stall. The air was thick and choking with the sickly sweet smell of decay and a fog of incense. They sacrificed a child a year here for two hundred years. It is dark- in every way you can imagine.

We caught a glimpse of the goddess- in the packed shrine. Her three eyes and black face- then on to the pool of her husband and his shrine. The pool is shallow and  rectangular and houses the dirty holy waters of the Ghanges river which has been piped in. People come here to bathe- a middle aged man of skin and bones, heavy with illness weakly pulled at his clothes on the edge of the water beside a woman bathing her baby boy.

We were taken one by one to the god's shrine where we were painted with the red ash on our forehead- blessed with long life, health, prosperity and a good marriage in the future and then forcefully encouraged by four men to empty our wallets as a donation to the temples kitchen and in honor of our family name. No thanks.

Such a sharp contrast to the work taking place in Mother's houses. She is respected by every person in this supersticious place. She was such a light here and her work has prospered in her absence. I am honored to be here in her home, with her family and among the people she poured her life out to love.

I am finding my way here.Tomorrow I go to Freeset ministries to meet Kathryn York's friends there. They are a New Zealand family with an amazing story- look up there website and see what they do.

 Today is done friends. I love you guys

Ev