Sun cont’d, rode in 2 vehicles to Patna. Manoj, Subodh and Kanchan (student) rode in other car with new driver. We all rode with Nishu who had driven for us all week. Before departing, we requested that one of the translators ride with us so that we could ask questions freely. Manoj had to explain a few times before we caught on to what he was saying. At first we thought he was saying the other vehicle was not licensed or not licensed for us or something to that effect. Finally we heard the words “No AC.” No more argument from us. LOL No way would we ride that far w/o AC, although it was not really that hot in Bihar on Sun, maybe 25 – 30c. When we crossed the Ganges on arrival it was dark for both pairs of team partners. This time was daylight; took pics; not very good tho bec/ couldn’t stop on bridge and railing blocked much of view. Nevertheless saw it: Been there; saw that. Dropped the other 3 at airport. Felt little bit of mixed feelings: Part of me wanted to leave with them. Missing BW. Other part not ready to go. I know people at Nagpur and want to see them.
I noticed the driver of the other vehicle before we left Samastipur. As we sat in the shade, I saw him rubbing something in the palm of his hand. Round and round he went. Curiosity bit me. So I asked what he had and what he was doing. He had tobacco leaves and was rubbing them. Then he plopped them in his mouth to chew. So I mentioned how people obtain chewing tobacco in the U.S. Later I noticed our driver doing the same--only not so obviously.
Mon, 30 March, Train: Caught train Patna @ 5:50pm. Waiting room; Muslims refused to look at me or acknowledge presence directly. Offered sitting space to young man; declined but then sort of moved into it. Assigned area; sleeping; new passenger in night; angry about bag; morning respectful greeting, respond; became friends; parting through window. Otherwise, 23 hr ride turned into 25 [probably closer to 26] arduous torturous hours.
The ride was "arduous" only in that we had little room to stretch our legs. Of course, the Indians seemed less bothered by this, because they have been flexing their legs since birth. But my legs (and bottom) were in agony by the time we arrived in Nagpur.
I took this pic while he took a midday nap. At this point I was uncertain if he would grant a "posed" photo.
In the middle of the night, the gentleman pictured boarded the train. He was assigned the bunk opposite mine. Typical of American travelers, I had more luggage than most in our section. My rolling bag that qualifies for carry-on with the airlines sat between my bunk and the newcomer's space. He had a 2 liter bottle of brown-yellow liquid that he wanted/needed to store in a secure place. And my bag interfered with his plans. In addition. another passenger had been sleeping in his assigned spot. So first, the newcomer got angry with the other passenger, who obediently relocated to the next bunk upward, which was his originally assigned place. Then the newcomer became aware of my bag blocking the space where he wanted to keep his bottle. When he realized the offending bag belonged to me, he leaned close to me and started yelling in very angry tones. Did I mention this was the middle of the night? I had already been sound asleep. So at best I would have been groggy and slow to respond. Add to this that he was yelling in either Hindi or his native dialect (which I learned later he was from Tamil Nadu) or perhaps yelling in the Indian version of English. In any case, I had not clue what he was saying or why he was upset with me. Subodh was traveling with me and was asleep in the bunk above me. And I kept waiting for him to say something either to the man or to me to let me know what to do. But apparently he slept through the whole incident. Or else, he felt it best to keep silent. In any case, the man finally yelled all his steam out of his system. Realizing that I was too dumb to know what to do, he set about to relocate my bag. When I realized what he wanted, I moved the bag sideways, so that there was some room by his bunk. He nestled his bottle next to his bunk and grumbled into bed.
Later, as we continued to build good relations, I asked him if I could take a picture. In Indian custom, he would not smile. But he was more than willing to allow a photograph.
The next morning, I felt there was still hostility coming from him to me. And I was eager to change that. Soon the others assigned to our section had wandered off to other areas and this man and I were left alone. I looked up and saw him staring/glaring at me. So I gave him the traditional Indian salute with my hand. Instantly, he responded in kind and the ice melted. I still wasn't sure if his anger was completely assuaged. So I sought a couple other times to put friendship into practice. While those gestures were cancelled by Subodh and the other travelers, still the efforts seemed to be appreciated.
Meanwhile, I kept wondering about this bottle of brown yellow liquid. I certainly was not an alcoholic beverage. So I concluded it was water. But he was not drinking it. Frequently through the day when a vendor of bottled water passed by, this traveler bought another bottle and drank from it avidly. So the 2 liter bottle was not for drinking. I surmised that it might be water from the Ganges River (Mother Ganga). If so, perhaps he was taking it back home to put on a sick relative. If that was the case, perhaps Subodh and I could pray for his sick loved one. Finally, as we neared Nagpur and my time was running out, I asked him about the bottle. He confirmed my speculation: He called it "Ganga Water." I asked what he planned to do with it. He explained that he would use it in ceremonial washing rituals. This revealed to a young lady in our cubicle that the man was/is a Hindu priest, which he confirmed.
Eventually, we arrived at Nagpur. Because of the logistics, I was prevented from going back into our cubicle to personally bid him and the others farewell. But after deboarding, we walked right past the window where we had been seated. I noticed him watching me closely. So I gave him the same salute I had given that morning. And he instantly responded in kind. Even now, this brings a smile to my face at the memory. Keep in mind, that all the time I was in India, I wore my "martyr's cross" hanging from around my neck. So there was no mistaking on his part that I was and am a follower of Christ. I never learned his name. So you can choose whatever Indian sounding name you care to and pray for him.
Please join me in praying that the One True God will reveal himself to this gentleman and show him the way to eternal life. Yes, I call him a gentleman even though he started out being so angry with me. Whatever his eternal destiny, he knows that he has met a Christian who seeks to do good and live in peace.
ttfn
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