Standing on the threshold of a month in India is a sobering thing. Six thousand miles away from home - a vast country filled with 980 million people, most of whom have never, ever heard the gospel of Jesus Christ. 1 in every 6 people in the world lives in India - if the whole nation were to pass in front of me at the rate of one person every second, it would take more than 31 years before the end of the queue arrived. That is almost inconceivable!
This is a country of incredible extremes - the weather, the scenery - flat plains and towering mountains, the differences in poverty and wealth - opulence and extravangance side by side with abject poverty and destitution, and that is before we even consider the religions.
Today is Thursday 15th January. I have arrived in Indira Gandhi International Airport after a 10 hour flight from Heathrow. I slept for about 3 hours, and I am tired and hungry now. Mervyn my travelling companion has spent ages describing in gory detail all of the potential hazards of India on the flight from England - parasites, viral infections, theives, Hindu extremists... I now know exactly how Job felt sitting on that ash heap surrounded by friends. Come back Elihu, all is forgiven.
Most of my blogging will be done remotely on my PDA and uploaded when I can, but I intend to be as truthful and faithful as I can about all that I see and experience.
Probably the first impression is the smell. India smells different to the UK. I can't describe it - not unpleasant necessarily, but definitely different. There are beggars right outside the airport. Taxi drivers swarm around you like flies to get you to go with them. We need the free airport shuttle coach to take us for our next domestic flight to Hyderabad, but it doesn't seem to be anywhere visible. After a few anxious moments of crowding and jostling, we decided to go back inside and ask somebody where it is.
Eventually found it! An old, dusty, overcrowded single decker with cracked windows and a Sikh driver who speaks no English at all - his beard and turban are enormous! There is a soldier with a rusty old machine gun at the front of the coach - he speaks no English either, and is utterly impatient.
The coach is filled with all sorts of coloured saris and strangely clothed people. 10 degrees centigrade. The smell of spices and dust is so cloying. We now have a 7 hour wait in the domestic terminal for our next flight Delhi - Hyderabad. Yipee.
Posted by pencils at January 15, 2004 01:07 AM | TrackBackI nearly died laughing when I read your Elihu come back, all is forgiven line-- when Ione and I met for our first Precepts study together, and we were talking about how strange it was going to be without you, we were both saying "Danny, come back-- all is forgiven!!"
too funny!