Do not disturb?

Beggars, as they are called in the common conversations in Kerala, they live without a shelter, their belongings in bundles and plastic covers, many of them having come from other regions of India, now stranded, with not much perspective for a different life. Usually, we notice them when they come to ask for money. Depending on our mood, we might give a coin or might shoo them away, afterwards continuing our way without a second thought on them again or at best remembering them as a disturbing factor in our routine.

This time, I was sitting in the car, waiting for my husband. The car was parked next to a big open space, in which many people camp during day time. Dark clouds covered the sky and the first big drops of a heavy rain started splattering on the ground. First, I saw an old man securing a heap of bundles with a piece of tarpaulin; after a few moments he went towards a building to seek shelter under one of the roofs there. Then, my eyes caught the sight of a woman. She was standing and talking to someone sitting on the ground. Taking a closer look, I saw that the man had no legs. The woman gave him his shirt and disappeared. He put on the shirt. After that he took a circular shaped piece of old tyre, I think. Pushing himself up on his arms he sat on that piece of rubber. Then, he started tying different strings attached to the rubber piece around his body. It was such a simple means but used in a rather perfected way with a complex technique. This wasn’t all. He then moved himself a bit forward by pushing his body up with his arms. First, he angled one old rubber slipper out of the grass, then another one. He slipped his, -no, I told you, he had no legs-, yes, hands into one each of the slippers. Some belongings he kept in his lap. Then, slowly, he started to make his way across the road to reach the shelter under the shop roofs, too. Pushing himself up and forward, up and forward, the body parts usually not supposed to be in direct contact with the ground, the grass, mud, and tar, are barely protected by those two different rubber products.

This was a close view! You can reflect on it in different ways. There is a possibility to admire the clever usage of actual waste products as quite functional aids for physically challenged people, thus too, seemingly invented by the concerned person himself in a quite self-reliant manner. But you have to be careful as well, not to be called cynical, interpreting people’s misery as their chance. Another way of looking at it is, of course, to be shocked how people with disabilities have to live in most difficult circumstances without any medical care, professional support etc. Especially, if pictures of sophisticated care facilities in several countries come to your mind, you have to consider the overall reality that not only physically (and mentally) challenged people often end up living on the roads, but numerous so called ‘normal’ people as well.

This incident rather appealed to give ‘second thoughts’ and to ‘remember them as disturbing factor’ but in a rather different sense. Those on the streets, whether physically challenged or not, they are human beings, often struggling to lead a life, not even mentioning a life in dignity. I don’t have simple solutions and I know very well that their situation evolves out of manifold factors on different levels. But what struck me is that we should not and we cannot forget: they are human beings, human beings like you and me.

The Silence of Sound

Every year in the first week of May the state of Kerala witnesses numerous processions at the occasion of the festival of St. George. You can notice churches decorated with myriads of light bulbs, fireworks and crackers in the evening hours, the sound of music groups and devotional songs played over loudspeakers. Since there are plenty of St. George churches, there is also a countless number of processions taking place every year. In one of them I took part.

Our church made grand arrangements for this year's procession. After the evening prayer, people slowly gathered at the starting point of the procession. A small girl told me that she had heard, there were even processions with elephants. Ours didn't have any though. But apart from this small draw back, there was nothing else missing: Two traditional drummer groups, a brass orchestra, and two jeeps with installed loudspeakers playing devotional music were ready to accompany the procession.

The procession of a festival is supposed to have meditational character. During the walk the participants are meant to pray and ask the saint for his or her intercession. Honoring the exemplary life of the saint, people hope that the saint might intercede on their behalf to God and help their petitions to be heard.

My position in the procession was somewhat in the thick of it. I could simultaneously hear the intense drum beating, the loud trumpeting of the brass orchestra and the blaring music from one of the jeeps. All this mixed into a dreadful cacophony. I did not know whether to laugh or to cry. Instantly this urgent thought came to my mind: how on earth could I solemnly take part in this procession and put myself into a prayerful mood???

The procession started, and after a few minutes, the sounds surrounded me almost like a cloud. And inside this cloud, I could detach myself from the things happening around. I was carried by the sounds into a very spiritual experience, that made me calm down and become very silent inside. I did not notice the cacophony but rather felt the sounds a soothing background for my prayers.