Living in 2 worlds
It has been few months since I returned from visiting a location of our nation, which is not too visible for most of us in the visible, incredible and promoted India. Physically I am back, but like the story of the porters in Africa who felt the speed has been too much and they were waiting for their souls to catch up, 1 my soul is still some where there, in the valleys beyond the Eastern Ghats. My mind is still processing the various things I saw and heard.
As I left the airport from the nearest
city, the concrete jungles with huge billboards, the large worship places of
free market economy, the malls, with its own beauty, I was treated to another beauty.
The beauty of, the jungles, hills and valleys and 6 hours of flying through the
bumps, hairpin bends with no net connectivity.
The person who was driving me, was in
his early twenties, a recently married young local man. After couple of hours
of flying through these roads, he asked me, can I talk to you about something.
The questions surprised me. Sir, will Odisha rupee work in Delhi? I assured him
that we have only one currency for our nation, and it will work anywhere in our
nation. The next question was can Odisha money work in Dubai? And can a I drive
this car and go to Dubai? We had an interesting ongoing conversation about
life, future and money. I was left with the realization, that his questions
were genuine, with a deep desire to move on in life may be build a future in Delhi
or Dubai where he can find fulfilment of his aspirations and dreams.
Over next three days, staying in a
Mission hospital community, I heard many other stories. Story of the young man
who fell from a tree and tore his liver. He could not be operated in the nearest
medical college, which was sixty kilometers away, and could not afford the
referral to 250 kms away and came back. Finally cared for by a young health team
who operated on him in the small community hospital and now he is on the road to
recovery.
I heard about how farmers who are
forced to sell their ginger that they produce at three rupees a kilo to the middlemen
from the visible India, who sell ginger in the market at 30-40 rupees a kilo.
Farmers who are forced to sell vegetables at throw away prices to the
incredible India, since if they do not sell immediately, it will rot.
I heard about the many children who have
stopped going to school because of the post covid economic constraints the
families are facing. I heard about a girl who attempted suicide in one of the
neighboring hotels, out of what frustration, one does not know, but one among
the many rural suicide attempts.
I also send time with a few well-educated
youths, who are journeying with these communities. A few of them, local youth
but who had the lucky break of moving ahead in life but have come back to see
if they can make a difference for their own community. Engaging with families,
farmers, non-formal schools and other avenues of engagement. Many others, well
educated professionals from other parts of the nation, living and journeying
with these communities. Some helping in the farms, others in the school or
hospital, some setting up businesses, because they have seen something that
most of us in the incredible visible India has not seen.
The community in the invisible India, uneducated
and challenged, are their brothers and sisters, with the same image of God in them
too. These people have dream and aspirations, like they have, but do not have
that support system to make those dreams and aspirations come true. Their own
life was dependent on the lives on these people from visible India, who produce
the agrarian products they use, and provide the support systems for their life
in the visible India where they grew up. They have sense of gratitude, because
they see what they have, as gift that they have received from God. They see the
life they are currently living in the invisible India as a privilege given to
them. Privilege to give back to God and these communities that God loves, using
their skills talents and just living and journeying with them. They recognize
that their lives have become richer and fuller, by such journeys.
They follow a Master who role modeled
such a life. Choosing to be born in an unknown small town, deciding a grow up
in a village from where no good was expected, far away from the visible and
incredible corridors of power and national structures. One who aligned his life
with the invisible in the nation, the shepherds, the fisher men, the
marginalized and the rejected, and made time to move out into the villages and
even towns of their national enemies. Moved by love and compassion, to be with
them, to call them his friends and to make them know everything He has heard
from His father and give up his life for them.
Even though I am back living and
engaging in the promoted incredible visible India this season of life, I hope my
soul will continue to linger in the invisible India. But then I realize, all
around me there is the invisible India too. I hope I will have eyes to see
those who are invisible around me too.
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