home again

It was fun for Barby and I to go back 'home' to North India - and to introduce it to our friends of many years, Jan & Bill Dewar and Stephen & Bonnie Bond, whom we first met almost 30 years ago when we started in pastoral ministry in Invercargill.

We find that there is so much to love up there in the north...

the people
The waiters in the restaurants; the drivers of the taxis; the guides at the monuments... When I was young these people tended to be annoying - but now it is all about enjoying them. My pathetic Hindi goes to work as I discover a naam (name), a gaon (village), a bibi/buchha (wife and family) etc. On and on it goes until I run out of vocabulary, or the syntax gets too complicated - or Barby comes to my rescue. I love watching their faces open up and the smiles spread across their faces, with the pahari (mountain) people to the fore. Here is Shyam taking such delight in showing us the only assymetrical piece of imperfection in the Taj Mahal.

the scenery
Not only are the people beautiful, so also are the mountains. Whether it be the Himalayan foothills (on whose steep slopes we grew up);

or, the distant snow clad peaks, there are some views from which we never tire.

When it comes to scenery, I am particularly partial to the beauty of an ordered and colourful fruit stall amidst the chaotic dirtiness of an Old Delhi street.

the monuments
I align myself fully with historian-novelist William Dalrymple on this one. The eurocentrism in our education system means that we miss the historical and cultural marvels of a place like Delhi. Not so with me. Five hours after our friends arrived from New Zealand I had them at the Qutb Minar - for many decades the tallest building in the world (almost a millennium ago!). Me and the Qutb are great mates from way back.

We climbed a minaret at the Jama Masjid mosque, enjoying the view across to the Red Fort.

and, of course, the view towards the Feroshah Kotla cricket ground in the distance :).

the spelling
Again and again, I realise that their English is far better than my Hindi - but that doesn't stop me from enjoying their mistakes anymore than I let them enjoy me making my mistakes. And so when I discovered a left-wing eco-friendly vegetarian item on the menu, I smiled.

But what about the pepper called Anand facing charges of harassment from the salt? More smiles.

the transportation
Where do you start? How about a regal wave from a very English mode of transport?

I always feel the welcome of the Indian train. I didn't really need to be reminded, but the reminder couldn't be missed.

the leaders
Are there two more influential figures in the twentieth century than Mahatma Gandhi and Mother Teresa? Maybe. Maybe not. To visit the places commemorating their deaths is a must on any visit to India. Going to Gandhi Smriti (where he was assassinated), seeing the photos, reading the words and walking the final steps is always worthwhile. The poignancy of Nehru's speech catches me every time. In the darkening gloom of the evening, he announces to the nation that the 'light has gone out of our lives'.

Then there is the simple story-telling, with word and image, at Mother House in Kolkata.
"I want to be only all for Jesus, truly and not only by name and dress." (Mother Teresa) 

the memories
A lot of the memories return to my Dad. When I was about 11 he bought us a unique Christmas present. An annual pass to the swimming pool of a five star hotel (Oberoi Maidens) next door to where we lived. Every afternoon, for months...

But lots of other memories for Barby and I. Like the place where we said goodbye to each other at Woodstock School in November 1976, with five years of letter-writing to follow - with no phone calls or email...

We love being 'daughter of...' and 'son of...' much-loved and respected parents in this land. Nothing lightens our faces quite like coming across people who remember our folks. On a visit to Delhi Bible Fellowship one Sunday (where Barby's Dad was pastor and where I gave my heart to Jesus a zillion times under the ministry of his predecessor - an evangelist!), Stephen met a man who remembered Dad...

nice chatting


PS... and we are so grateful for great friends who have stuck with us over the years - and here they are on the steps leading up to the Jama Masjid in Old Delhi. Thanks for more memories.


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