I was walking through the streets of Calcutta on my way to Mother Theresa’s Home for the Dying where I would be helping out for a few days. These streets were vibrating with so much life that I actually lost contact with my nervousness about where I was going and what I was about to do.
After having breakfast with Kashi, Christopher, Madhu and my other friends in the l’Arche home where I had been staying for the past week, I step out of that joyful and peaceful house (at least for that morning) into the tumultuous atmosphere in front of the Sealdah train station through which pass daily over 800,000 people.
Besides the constant flow of business men, labourers, families there were many porters shuffling along with huge burdens on their heads: great baskets full of bananas, apples and other fruits and vegetables; huge sacks of rice or whatever, other materials and large boxes full of who knows what. The red loin clothes and red bandanas worn by these porters highlighted their dark sinewy bodies glistening with sweat.