Once again we return to our regularly scheduled program... "India the Paradox."

We held a traditional Andhra Pradeshian pre-wedding ceremony. It involves, well no it is, a time when you smear the bride and groom with turmeric, a yellow spice, that's all. No one really knows why they do it but all said it had to be done. I think everyone was more excited about the turmeric fight that would inevitably occur before-during-or after the ceremony than the "ceremony" itself.

So on the day of the turmeric fete, the groom and the bride came over (separately of course). And they sat in separate rooms until their turn, where each one individual came out and was smeared with the yellow paste. It was a weird event we prayed for each one and then people took turns smearing some yellow on them while others ran around trying to smear other people with the turmeric.

And right in the middle of this impending wedding celebration, I heard a soft thud behind me. Moments later a young man came up to me and said, "Stephanie, look." He was holding a baby chipmunk that couldn't have been more than a couple days old as its eyes still hadn't opened. He had fallen out of his nest in the palm tree above and landed on the hood of the jeep. He was still alive and moving around a lot. For the next 15 minutes the young man and I cared for the little guy. I wasn't sure what the young man's motives were but mine were clear...guilt. Most of you may not know (b/c I sure didn't) chipmunks make the most annoying high-pitched chirping sound (hence the voices of Alvin, Simon and Theodore) and I have a palm tree right outside my door; yes, the very palm tree that Jr. fell out of. I didn't do anything directly to the poor little guy but I think a month or so ago I cursed his mother. You see, I was trying to write a blog entry and her chirping was SO loud and SO annoying that I just couldn't concentrate so I went outside and yelled at her. I told her, "If you don't shut up I swear I will get a BB gun and kill you and your offspring," and then I threw a stick at her to chase her away from the tree (and probably the little nest she was building). Seriously, I told her that and now I have her cute little boy dieing on the hood of a car... GUILT with a capital G!!!

So the young man and I brought Jr. milk and tried to feed him by dipping a stick in the milk and bringing it to his mouth (that didn't work so well). We tried to keep him on the jeep right where he fell so his mamma would come get him but then we got called away to the ceremony. So we left him for just a moment to go and celebrate the start of a new life of two young people. We were throwing the yellow around when we heard this loud chirp, as if to say, "Mamma or you two crazy humans...HELP!" We looked up and there was Jr. in the mouth of a crow. I screamed and almost fainted! The young man ran after the bird put it flew away with Jr. squirming and chirping in its mouth.
OHHH! I feel so terrible.
I sat there and wanted to cry but then I started thinking about how this one event seems like the most appropriate metaphor for India. A celebration and and tragedy all happening at the same time. And this was just a little chipmunk and a pre-wedding party.

Everyday a baby is born and abandoned or sold. Faithful wives die because they were infected with HIV from their unfaithful husbands. People die of Malaria even though the antidote is readily available. Children are dieing from dehydration caused by the water they drink.

India is a paradox.

A continuous spectrum of life.

Here nothing is hidden. Death, birth, sickness, celebration it is all out in the open. Sure they try to whitewash some things but all you have to do is pull back one layer of paint and you see the truth. The truth is not hard to find you just have to be willing to look.

Lately, I've been wondering if I should even look for the truth. India is hard enough to handle without really intentionally looking so I wonder and ask myself can I handle the truth? And all I hear in response is Jack telling me, "You can't handle the truth." And I know it is just Satan impersonating the over the hill movie star but I really wonder how did Mother Theresa do it? She was obviously a saint or something, and I'm just some white girl from Orange County, how can I possibly make any change here?

Now I know that this must sound so despondent but really I am ok. I promise! I am just sharing with you what I have been thinking about and which has to be a normal reaction to really experiencing a 3rd world country for the first time. I am not feeling hopeless or even considering giving up, I'm just wrestling with trying to make sense of it all.

Thanks for listening!