I often joke that to take amazing pictures in India you just have to wave your camera around and snap blindly.  It’s that breathtaking of a place.

But as I think back over my two trips to India, I realize that there is a unique corollary to that idea.  If you want to see incredible social justice movements springing up in India, all you have to do is blindly follow some of the leaders of Truthseekers International.

I just can’t get enough of these kids!

They will lead you to women being empowered, impoverished Muslim children being given a modern education, elderly Untouchables receiving dignity, a school full of Gypsy children being fed…

Truthseekers is having a ripple effect throughout India, and it’s not hard to see why.  They are a group of dedicated Christ-followers pursuing their passions and following the commands of Jesus to love the ‘least of these’ (Matthew 25).

Today’s photo gallery, number 4 in our top 10 countdown, is just one of those breathtaking destinations.

So take a look.  Read the captions.  Then head over to www.worldnextdoor.org/india if you want to read more!

Posting this photo gallery on Twitter or Facebook for our contest?  Use http://bit.ly/9ppP4P

When I first arrived in New Delhi back in 2008, I knew almost nothing about India.  Its history, its people, its religions… they were all pretty much a mystery to me.  But after two visits totaling four months, a stack of books and countless conversations, some of it started to become clear.

India is a breathtaking country!

This article, written in November, was my attempt to sum up some of what I had learned.  Of course, I couldn’t write about India without talking about the incredible work of Truthseekers International.  That ministry just blows me away.

So dive in and get a glimpse into India…  Like what you see?  Head over to www.worldnextdoor.org/india for the rest of the story!

Posting this on Twitter or Facebook for our contest? Use http://bit.ly/963UJ8

India. What an incredible place.  Home to so much life, so much culture and so much injustice…

During my short, two and a half week stay in New Delhi this fall, I had the opportunity to embed once again with Truthseekers International.  Sitting at the feet of Christ-following social reformers like Sunil Sardar gave me a rare glimpse into this unique and powerful expression of the kingdom of God.

I can never forget the things I learned here!

I witnessed everything from gypsy children being given an education to outcaste farmers having their feet washed by Westerners.  I stayed for a while in an impoverished New Delhi neighborhood and spent the night in a rural village.

Everywhere I went I saw the kingdom of God at work.  The poor lifted up, the powerless given a voice and outcasts bestowed with dignity… Truthseekers is beating back the darkness with the most powerful weapon of all: hope!

A Movement in the Dark

How could I have hope in a place so filled with injustice?

Click here to read this article…

Photo Gallery: Dreams for the Future

For an impoverished community of Indian gypsies, education has always been a luxury… until now.

Click here to see this photo gallery…

World Next Door Uncut – Episode 6

Wow!  In five minutes you can change the life of a child in India forever…

Click here to read this article…

Planting Seeds

Cups of chai and traffic jams… How can this lead to change?

Click here to read this travel journal…

Three Letter Word

This three letter word has led me to a whole lot of crazy places.  So why can’t I stop saying it?

Click here to read this travel journal…

Girl Power

In a room full of saris and veils, a quiet revolution has begun…

Click here to read this article…

Photo Gallery: Dignity

Dignity for the broken. Does it get any more beautiful than this?

Click here to see this photo gallery…

World Next Door Uncut – Episode 7

In this episode, we visit a village in India!

Click here to read this article…

What Lies Ahead

What would make Indian villagers stay up past their bedtimes?

Click here to read this article…

Modern Madrassa

A Christian madrassa that teaches modern topics to conservative Muslims… Am I missing something here?

Click here to read this article…

“Finally, some time to myself!” I thought as I brushed my teeth.  “I’ve got so much work to get done…”

After spending the night in a rural village, Deshpande and I had taken a six hour train ride back to New Delhi.  We got in a little after midnight.  I was beat.

So in the morning, after sleeping in a little bit, I was ready to settle in for a day of writing, decompressing and maybe a bit of relaxation.  It was my first chance to work on articles in almost a week.

As I was getting ready for my much anticipated shower, Pranjal stopped by.

“Are you ready?”  He asked.

“Ready for what?” I said.

“Don’t you remember? We’re going out to Siddiqui’s school today,” he replied.

“Oh yeah…” I said, trying not to groan aloud.  A week before I had promised to come visit a “Modern Madrassa” run by a Truthseeker named Sharafat Siddiqui.  Normally I’d be happy for an experience like this, but that morning all I wanted to do was relax.

The neighborhood we visited on the East side of New Delhi.

Knowing that a simple “visit” would end up being a 4 or 5 hour affair, but not wanting to go back on my promises, I took a deep breath and said, “Ok… Yeah.  Let me go get dressed…”

Pretty Cool

I stayed a bit irritated throughout the hour-long auto rickshaw ride.  It was all I could do not to sigh loudly to let Pranjal know that I was, indeed, Mr. Grumpy Pants.

When we reached Siddiqui’s neighborhood, however, my attitude started to change.  We got off the rickshaw in the middle of an Islamic community absolutely packed with people.

We walked down the narrow, winding streets past meat markets, bakeries, and vegetable stalls.  The air was thick with the aroma of food and the stench of garbage.  There were flies everywhere… more flies than I think I’ve ever seen before.

Sharafat Siddiqui with his daughter.

“Ok,” I admitted to myself, “This is pretty cool…”

After getting a bit lost, we finally met up with Siddiqui.  He guided us even deeper into the neighborhood.  When we reached the school, he welcomed us inside and immediately ushered us up to an unfinished third floor with no roof.

A few minutes later, all the kids began filing up the stairs to join us.  They crowded into the small space and began arranging themselves in lines.

Seeing their bright eyes and wide smiles, my heart was softened.  I am a sucker for kids.  By the time I had introduced myself and sung a few songs with them, my bad attitude had completely melted away.

Revered

After a little while, the kids left and Pranjal and I sat down for chai with Siddiqui himself.  He told us a bit of his story…

Siddiqui’s students gathered for a group photo in the unfinished third floor room.

Sharafat Hussein Siddiqui was brought up in an orthodox Muslim family.  Through his childhood, Siddiqui grew in stature and knowledge and eventually became a revered imam in his village.  As he studied the Koran, however, he began to develop several questions about Jesus.

Although Jesus is referred to as a prophet in the Koran, a few things didn’t add up.  Siddiqui’s fellow imams gave him answers, but none of them completely satisfied his curiosity.

So Siddiqui turned to the Bible.  After reading many things that confused him, Siddiqui approached a Christian social reformer he had recently met for answers.  The man was Sunil Sardar.

A Whirlwind

What followed was a whirlwind of discovery and exciting revelations for Siddiqui.  Soon he considered himself a Christ-following Muslim and joined the Truthseekers movement.  Hearing Sunil’s message of hope and equality week after week, Siddiqui decided to apply what he now believed to the people of his own community.

The children attending Siddiqui’s Modern Madrassa are extremely poor.

In Siddiqui’s neighborhood, many people live extremely impoverished lives.  Outcaste from Hindu society and trapped in a cage of religious dogmatism, families in his community continue to perpetuate the cycle of poverty from one generation to the next.

One of the biggest problems with this, in Siddiqui’s opinion, is a lack of modern education for children.  Kids in his neighborhood are taught all about Islam and the Koran at their heavily conservative madrassas, but they are barred from learning anything about math, science, art and economics.

You can imagine how this would keep young people trapped in low-paying, menial jobs as they grow older.

So, despite a lot of opposition from conservative imams and a complete lack of funding, Siddiqui started a “Modern Madrassa” in his own small home.

Learning by Candlelight

Today, the school has grown to 59 students.  Every week they cram into three tiny classrooms, often learning by candlelight when the electricity turns off.

The dark rooms of Siddiqui’s house are a difficult place for children to learn.

The school doesn’t have enough teachers.  They don’t have enough money to give the kids more than a piece of fruit each day.  The third floor room will remain without a roof until they save up a few thousand more rupees.

But all of these hardships don’t quell Siddiqui’s enthusiasm.

“I want our people to be competent with the world,” he told me.

After chai, Siddiqui gave us a quick tour of the rest of the school.  The dark rooms and bare concrete walls reminded me of just how difficult it will be to reverse the tide of poverty in his community.

But if Siddiqui’s wild dream for a modern madrassa succeeds, it will be the start of something new… a generation of Muslim children growing up unafraid of the modern world, eager to break free of poverty and curious about just who this man Jesus really is…

Reminded

As we prayed for Siddiqui before leaving I realized that the Modern Madrassa was exactly what I needed to see at the very end of my stay.

What will the future of these children be?

I needed to look into the eyes of children that now have a chance to succeed.  I needed to be reminded yet again of India’s desperate struggle for equality.  And I needed to be reminded that in the midst of it all, Truthseekers is there.

During the auto rickshaw ride back to New Delhi, I tried to remember just why I had been in such a bad mood that morning…

Truth

The next day I began packing my bags.  In just a little while I would be on my way to my next adventure.  Before putting my computer away, I briefly scrolled through the photos I had taken over my two weeks in India.

There, staring back at me, were elderly people and children, villagers and city dwellers, OBCs and Dalits, Hindus and Muslims… hundreds of beautiful faces reminding me of a truth I don’t want to forget:

Truthseekers is changing the world.

Last week I had the incredible opportunity to spend the night in a small Indian village outside of Lucknow.  I’ve written a little bit about the experience already, but it wasn’t just a fun adventure.  I learned a lot about what life is really like for the people of Sadullakheda and about what God is doing there now that Truthseekers is involved…

—–

When the footwashing team was gone and Deshpande and I were alone in the village, we sat down for chai with several of its residents.  We talked a bit about their families, asked about the village and explained just why a random white guy wanted to spend the night.

The village of Sadullakheda. Home to about 75 families.

After chai, a couple of the young men in the village were assigned to us as tour guides of sorts.  They took us across the village, guided us through a few surrounding fields and essentially just gave us the lay of the land.

While we were walking I had the chance to meet several villagers, ask lots of questions and get a better understanding of what village life is like.  Deshpande, who grew up in a similar village in central India, helped a lot as I sought to understand it all…

Subsistence

The whole family helps out at harvest time.

The village of Sadullakheda is a pretty standard picture of what rural India is like.  Although their brick and plaster homes are a step up from the mud huts found in the most impoverished Indian villages, the residents of Sadullakheda are still very poor.

A few of the 250 villagers work in the city during the day, but most get by solely as subsistence farmers (growing only enough food to eat, not to sell).  They spend their days planting and harvesting rice, cultivating vegetables, picking fruit and caring for their flocks of goats and buffalos (cows, considered holy and never eaten, simply wander around on their own).

The people of Sadullakheda can usually get by with what they produce, but harvesting rice is a difficult and time consuming process.  Poor crop yields or a sickness in the family can often create a lot of stress with their already backbreaking work.

While we toured the village, I got to see villagers hard at work in just about every stage of the rice harvesting process.  Drying, carrying, threshing, winnowing, storing…  Let me tell you, it looked tough.

Nevertheless, the people of Sadullakheda continue to get by.  Apart from a few technological advances like cell phones and occasional electricity, life in the village goes on the way it has for thousands of years.

My host family for the night, winnowing rice (separating the grain from the chaff) with an electric fan.

Unfortunately, rice harvesting and shepherding are not the only things that have continued in the village for millennia…

The caste system has too.

Puja

As we walked around, Deshpande explained that half of the village consists of low caste people in the Shepherd Community (an Other Backward Caste or OBC).  The other half of the village is made up of Dalits (Untouchables).

Any time a major life event happens such as a birth, a death or a wedding, travelling Brahmins come by to perform a religious ritual called puja.

These upper caste priests come into the village (careful to avoid contact with the Dalits, of course) and perform the ceremony whether they were invited or not.  They light some incense, say a few prayers, then expect to get paid for their services.

Everybody pays.  It’s just a part of life there.  As a result, these Brahmin priests live lavishly while the people of Sadullakheda struggle to scrape by.

A statue of Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god.

No Choice

Now, I’m an American.  My culture has bred in me a finely tuned sense of justice.  I’ve been taught since childhood that people should get what they deserve… that nobody should have a free ride.

Hearing about these greedy priests taking money from the hands of the poor got me all worked up.

“Can’t the villagers do something about this?  Don’t they have a choice in the matter?” I wondered.

The answer, as frustrating as it is, makes perfect sense from the framework of Hinduism:  if these villagers want to be holy – if they want to reincarnate into a higher caste in their next life – then no.  They have no choice.

They must continue to dig deep into their pockets to pay for priestly services.  They must do humiliating and disgusting rituals like drinking cow urine or smearing cow dung on their bodies.  They must recognize that their low position is due to misdeeds in a previous life and must do whatever it takes to rise up in the next.

They have no choice.

Or at least they didn’t… until last week.

Discussing the message of Truthseekers by the light of a small lamp.

A Monumental Event

Last week, Truthseekers International came to Sadullakheda with an earth-shattering message for its people: you have value.

As I wrote in my latest photo gallery, the message of the caste-less kingdom of God hit home.  Never before had the people of that village been given such incredible dignity.  Never before had they been told that there were alternatives to slavery and subjugation.

Americans, influential caste leaders, Brahmin-born Christians… washing the feet of those on the bottom of society’s ladder.  It was a monumental event for Sadullakheda.

No Longer Slaves

That night, as Deshpande and I finished eating dinner, the five grown sons of our hostess, Parmeshvary Devi, pulled up chairs into the small room to talk some more. They had many questions and were anxious to hear more about the kingdom of God.

Who knows what lies ahead for Sadullakheda?

By the light of a small kerosene lamp, we talked for hours.  We discussed the teachings of past Indian social reformers like Mahatma Phule and Bhimrao Ambedkar.  We shared stories from the Bible.

Deshpande passionately made the case that these men no longer needed to be slaves.

Finally, when nobody could stifle their yawns anymore, we all went to bed.  In the morning, Deshpande and I left Sadullakheda to catch a train.

A Long Journey Ahead

On the six hour train ride back to Delhi, I had plenty of time to think about everything I had experienced in the village.  I was once again blown away by the powerful work of Truthseekers and humbled to have been even a small part of it myself.

There is still a long journey ahead for the people of Sadullakheda.  It will take a lot more than a single footwashing event to break their bondage completely.

But I have hope for this little village because of the words Sunil Sardar spoke to me right after the event.

“Don’t worry, Barry… We’ll be back.”

Hello again!

Welcome to episode 7 of our video blog, World Next Door Uncut.  In this episode, I take you with me to a village in rural India called Sadullakheda.  As you’ve probably already seen in my latest photo gallery, the village had just experienced a moving and powerful footwashing event.

After the event was over I got to spend the night in the village.  It was awesome.  And while I was there I thought WND Uncut would be a perfect way to introduce you to one of the women who had been touched deeply by the event.

Now, I want to emphasize that this is called World Next Door Uncut.  I do these in one take.  No editing.  So you’re going to have to forgive me for the fact that the top of my head is cut off for the first minute or so. 

After filming this, I realized my mistake, but decided that there was no possible way I could adequately explain why I was asking her the same questions over again…

So lesson learned… Double check the camera’s view before I hit record!

Enjoy!

Episode 7 Footnotes

• Curious where Lucknow is?  Check it out on a map…
• Notice all the confused stares.  I’m staying the night in a village that hasn’t seen a white person in decades.  I sort of stood out a bit. 
• Her name, which I definitely could not pronounce at the time, is Parmeshvary Devi.
• Parmeshvary has five sons and four daughters.  Altogether she has nine grandchildren.
• This village is made up primarily of people in the Shepherd Caste.  There are thousands of castes and sub-castes in India.  Wikipedia actually does a good job of explaining how it works…
• See you next time… in Cambodia!

Last weekend I had the wonderful opportunity to see Truthseekers International at its best. Through two simple footwashing events, my perspective on the kingdom of God was forever deepened.

I sat reading a book on the bed as Kanta prepared dinner in the other room.  Vikrand, her son, watched cartoons on their tiny TV.

It all seemed rather normal and mundane.  The room didn’t stand out as all that remarkable. It sure didn’t seem like the birthplace of a revolution.

But it was…

——

Fiesty and strong-willed Kanta. The men of Madipur don’t know what to do with her.

Last week I had the chance to spend the night with the family of Kanta Bhirao.  Kanta lives with her husband and adopted son in a tiny, two room apartment in Madipur, an impoverished community on the west side of New Delhi composed primarily of Dalits (Untouchables).

Late in the afternoon, after arriving at her home, Kanta told me her story over a cup of chai…

Madipur, home to many impoverished Dalits.

Kanta, 47, became an enthusiastic activist with the Communist Party when she was 16. Over time, this feisty and strong-willed women developed quite a reputation in Madipur and built connections with many powerful people.

Two years ago, however, after the deaths of her brother and father-in-law, she was left caring for her family alone.  Drained of energy and of finances, she made a fortuitous connection with Sunil Sardar and heard about Truthseekers International for the first time.

After sitting through one of Truthseekers’ satsungs (worship services), Kanta decided to dedicate her life to Jesus.  She began using her influence to start her own satsung services in Madipur and has been spreading the message of Truthseekers in her community ever since.

Today, her satsungs are becoming the talk of the town.  Every Thursday about 40 women cram into her bedroom to hear her revolutionary message of reconciliation.

But Kanta is facing an uphill struggle.  Women in Kanta’s world are treated as second-class citizens.  They are devalued.  They are oppressed.

And unless they are liberated from this oppression, the fate of women in India will never change…

A drummer leading a wedding processional. If only all weddings here were truly happy affairs…

An Unspeakable Oppression

Hearing about women being oppressed is hardly surprising in today’s world.  Women around the world face everything from patriarchal societies to human trafficking to plain old sexism.

And India is no exception to the rule. In fact, in many ways it’s quite a bit worse.  For millennia, millions of women in India have been treated like cattle, like property, like slaves… You can pretty much pick your analogy.

Because women are seen as less valuable than men, female feticide, the abortion of unborn female babies, is a rampant problem in this country. So much so that India is one of the few countries with more men than women in its population.

Many girls, especially in lower income communities, do not get an education.  Less than 50% of women in India can read and write.  Indian women are at the bottom of a society already rife with injustice, and there is little being done to alleviate their oppression.

For a long time these ideas were nothing more than concepts to me… just statistics on a page.  But then I spent 24 hours in Madipur, and it all came into focus…

Two of Kanta’s women gluing beads onto pieces of plastic. Baby, the woman on the right, lost her husband several years ago, an unspeakably tragic event for a woman already viewed as worthless by society.

Common Themes

In the morning, Kanta took me around to meet some of the women she has been leading.  We walked from house to house, hearing stories that began to sound more and more familiar as the day went on.

As we drank chai in home after home, a handful of themes began to emerge.

First of all, many of the men in Madipur are deadbeats.  Although they work and bring in a meager income, they often spend it all on alcohol and gamble it away. Their wives are left with the responsibility of making enough money to feed and clothe their children.

Every single woman I met in the community spends their free moments doing mind-numbingly menial tasks.  When they aren’t cooking or washing dishes, the women are stitching beads onto leather for shoes, gluing fake jewels on pieces of silver plastic, embroidering pieces of fabric… anything to bring in a few rupees.

Often they enlist the help of their children.  The family of one woman I met, for example, spends all day gluing jewels.  After more than 10 hours of work each day, the family brings in 50 rupees. That’s about $1.

Divorce

Another common theme I discovered is that there isn’t much divorce in Madipur.  This came as a bit of a surprise.  I would have thought that divorce would be common in a place where women were so oppressed.

What must she think of herself after all these years?

But in India, as I have come to understand, women have no power to divorce their husbands.  Society just doesn’t allow it.  And why would men divorce their wives?  They have someone to cook and clean for them.  It wouldn’t make sense.

Instead of divorce, there is a lot of domestic violence.  Women, often living far away from their family and friends because of an arranged marriage, must suffer silently and alone.

The Dowry

The last theme I discovered absolutely blew my mind.

After lunch on my second day in Madipur, Kanta took me to the home of a woman who was engaged to be married.  Surrounded by her mother, sisters and cousins, the bride-to-be was helping her family count and organize the dowry.

On two coffee tables in the small house were rows of neatly pressed shirts and fabric, and on the bed were bowls full of necklaces, bracelets and a nice watch.

“You should marry an Indian woman,” Kanta said to me, “so you’ll get a lot of nice things!”

“Wait, you mean so that she would get nice things, right?” I asked.

“No…” Kanta said, a bit confused.

Kanta’s home, birthplace of a revolution.

Then it dawned on me.

“You mean the bride’s family has to pay the dowry to the groom?” I asked.

“Yes.”

The truth hit me like a ton of bricks. I had been confusing dowry with bride price. In India, a bride’s family must provide a fortune in gifts to the groom’s family – paying them, in essence, for taking their daughter off of their hands.

Kanta went on to explain that families often go deep into debt to marry off their daughters.

All of a sudden it became clear to me.  Boys bring jobs and prosperity.  Girls bring debt and hardship. It doesn’t really come as much of a surprise anymore that male babies have more value here.

A Revolution

Story after story.  Tragedy after tragedy.  When I finally got in an auto rickshaw headed back to Delhi, my mind was spinning.

As Kanta’s revolution grows, there is hope for the next generation!

As I rode, I thought back over each of the stories of the women I had met.  I thought about their situation and the apparent hopelessness they face every day.  But then I thought about Kanta’s work and it began to strike me as far more significant than it had appeared at first glance.

Kanta isn’t just gathering some friends for a weekly Bible study.  She isn’t having some nice ladies over for tea.

Kanta is starting a revolution.

These humble women, sweating and uncomfortable in a tiny room, are hearing a message of liberation week after week. They are learning about their true value in the kingdom of God… and it is starting to have an effect.

How do I know?  Because their husbands are ticked.

Their wives are coming home with strange ideas in their heads.  They are starting to insist that their own daughters be educated.  They are starting to complain when their husbands don’t contribute to the family.

It’s not much, but it’s a start.  It may be many years before these women receive all the rights they deserve, but it can happen. Thanks to the tireless work of strong women like Kanta, the women of Madipur have a chance.

There may not be guns or flags or barricades, but because of Truthseekers something is stirring in Madipur…

A revolution of women has begun.

Ow.  Owie.  Ouch.  Ok that hurts.

My face had just been shaved by an Indian barber in a sketchy alleyway barbershop.  Now the barber was rubbing some sort of aftershave all over my neck, and it burned.

I took a moment to wonder just how I ended up in such a ridiculous situation.

Oh yeah… When Deshpande asked if I wanted a shave, I said “yes.”

—-

The busy alleyway where I got my face shaved.

Yes.

That three letter word has led me to some interesting places over the last few years.  Hitchhiking in Haiti, beekeeping in Ukraine, whitewater rafting in Panama… It seems like every time someone asks if I want to do something new I just can’t help myself.

I always say “yes.”

This trip to India is no exception.  Having my face shaved by a strange man in an alley was probably one of the least crazy things I’ve done so far…

Kanta’s Place

Last week I spoke with Steve Smith (volunteer coordinator for Truthseekers) about the idea of spending some time living in the home of Kanta, an OBC leader working with Truthseekers.  We both thought it would be a great way for me to understand what life is really like for people in that area.

Kanta’s home. Their bed acts as a couch and dining room too.

Unfortunately, after several days of waiting it looked as if it wasn’t going to pan out.  I had pretty much given up on the idea when out of the blue, Pranjal (also on staff with Truthseekers) approached me and said, “So, do you still want to go and stay at Kanta’s place?”

“Sure!” I said.  “When will that be?  Tomorrow?  This weekend?”

“You leave in one hour.”

I laughed and said, “Well ok then.  Let me go pack my things…”

Before I knew it, I was getting into an auto rickshaw with a lady who spoke only broken English, driving for an hour across New Delhi and sitting down for chai in a tiny two room apartment with the sounds of car horns and wedding drums coming from the impoverished neighborhood outside.

Saying “yes” doesn’t usually lead to such extremes. 

After chai, we walked around the block and chatted for a little while with Kanta’s college-age neighbor. Then Kanta asked if I wanted to go to the market with her husband to pick up food for dinner.  “He does not speak English,” she informed me.

Again, I couldn’t help myself.  I said yes.

She led me outside.  There, waiting for me on a scooter was Kanta’s husband, Gyangi.  He gestured for me to get on.  So, I jumped on the back and off we went.

My visit to the market was… memorable to say the least!

The Market

To get to the market, we drove down busy streets, dodging cars, people, stray dogs and cows along the way.  The smells quickly alternated between garbage, delicious food, sewage and incense.  People were shouting, horns were blaring, dogs were barking… It was sensory overload.

And I loved every minute of it.

After arriving in the market, Gyangi went up to buy some fish, leaving me standing next to a large bucket full of wriggling and apparently miserable catfish (Yep.  There was no water in the bucket and young boys kept picking them up by their gills.  I’d say they were pretty miserable.).

Next to the fish seller was a meat stall that must have been called The Nasty Bits.  Intestines, tongues, ankles and a bowl of… are those… eyeballs?

Let’s just say that I had every finger and toe crossed hoping that Gyangi wouldn’t offer me some. Thankfully my fears proved unfounded, and I did not have to eat roasted chicken face or something (ok, I made that one up), but it was a close call.

You see, I’ll try anything once.  If someone offers me some new food to eat, I’ll always say, you guessed it… “yes.”

Like the time Sunil offered me stupidly spicy green chilies while we were eating samosas at a roadside restaurant…

Lucknow

The last few days have been filled with “Yes” as well.

On Monday, I had the chance to participate in a footwashing ceremony in a small village outside of Lucknow (more on that in an upcoming article).  During the ceremony, I turned to Steve and said, “Wouldn’t it be cool if I could spend the night here, too?”

I did NOT say “yes” to provoking these angry cows.

He replied, “Hmm… Maybe you can.”

So, during a lull in the program, Steve spoke with Sunil, Deshpande and a few villagers.  He came back and told me that he thought it actually could work.

“So do you really want to stay here?” he asked.

My answer, of course, was “yes.”

The Village

One hour later the bus was gone and I was drinking chai with two elderly people named Bhuiyandin Pal and Parmeshvary Devi in the small village of Sadullakheda, an hour outside of Lucknow.

Deshpande and I were on our own… and we had no idea how we would make it back to Delhi.  Saying “yes” had once more led me deep into the unknown.

Thankfully, my time in the village turned out to be fantastic. It gave me a whole new understanding of what life is like for the majority of rural Indians and allowed me to get a glimpse into a lifestyle I never could have imagined ten years ago.

Another great reason to say “yes” often… babies!!!

We ate some tasty food, I slept on a table, and I even had a staring contest with a buffalo.

It was awesome!

And it all happened because I never stopped saying a small but powerful word…

“Yes.”

———

I don’t know what my next weird experience will be.  I’m not sure what crazy food I’ll eat next.  I have no idea just where I’ll end up.

But the next time someone asks if I want to do something new, you can guess what my answer will be…

The other day, while I attended an anti-discrimination rally with Sunil, a funny thing happened.

I was walking in to find a seat, when all of a sudden the organizer of the rally walked up to me, grabbed my arm and ushered me toward the stage.  Even though I didn’t understand just what was going on, I followed him.

After climbing a short stairway, I removed my shoes and walked to where he pointed.  There, on the stage between two mustachioed men, was my seat.

My view from the stage.

I sat down on the floor, cross-legged like everyone else around me, shook the hand of the man sitting next to me, then looked out over the audience.  The faces of 400 Indian men stared back at me.

Somehow, I had ended up sitting on the stage at a rally in Meerut, India like one of the honored guests.  I was the only Westerner for miles and I didn’t understand a word that was being said.

I shook my head and chuckled to myself. You just never quite know where you’ll end up when you’re hanging with Sunil…

The Seed is Planted

When I’m not visiting schools or attending footwashing events, my time in India has been spent tagging along with Sunil Sardar, director of Truthseekers International.  I’ve learned a ton simply by seeing him in action.

Sunil (right) at the rally in Meerut.

Sunil began his fight for justice decades ago in rural Maharashtra (an influential state in central India).  Frustrated by the corruption and exploitation happening in his region, Sunil became the leader of a farmer’s union and began a campaign to bring equal rights to the farmers he represented.

After several years in this position, Sunil came to realize that the problem was not simply a matter of economics.  There was a deeper layer of injustice keeping his people in the grip of poverty.

It was around this time that Sunil began reading the work of Jyotirao Phule, one of a long line of Indian social reformers fighting for the rights of the oppressed.

Phule, who lived in the 1800s, did many things to shake up the deeply entrenched ideas of caste in his community. He educated his wife (unheard of at that time), let Untouchables drink out of his well and contextualized the Christian Gospel into ideas and practices that actually made sense to the lower castes.

Reading Phule’s work ignited a fire within Sunil’s heart.  He began dreaming about what it would look like for the seedlings of change he had planted with Maharashtra’s farmers to spread across all of India.

A common sight: Sunil, driving to meet an influential person he knows, on the phone with some other influential friend!

Gathering other influential leaders, thinkers and activists around him, Sunil re-energized Phule’s “Society for the Seekers of Truth” (changing its name to “Truthseekers International”) and began leveraging his own considerable influence to fulfill his life’s overarching purpose: the transformation of India through the power of the kingdom of God.

Going out

Today, Sunil spends his time meeting with caste leaders and politicians, attending rallies and welcoming young social reformers to spend time with him at his office in New Delhi.

It may seem a bit random and disjointed.  But as I’ve tagged along with Sunil through endless traffic jams and countless cups of chai, I’ve begun to see the overarching purpose in what he does.

One of Sunil’s most important activities is meeting with the many powerful people he has come to know throughout the years.  By harnessing their influence, he is able to extend the reach of Truthseekers far beyond that of his own.

The family of a man who was murdered in a caste power struggle, visiting the Truthseekers office for support.

The other day, for example, I found myself sitting on the bed in a hotel room as Sunil spoke with a former Member of Parliament.  This man, a caste leader for more than 70 million gypsies, was preparing to make a big announcement.  As of that afternoon, he said, the Banjara caste was leaving Hinduism.

Although the gesture was largely symbolic, Sunil encouraged the man, telling him that he was not alone in his struggle for justice.  He reminded him of other influential Indians who had left the caste system and planted the seed that perhaps the God of the Bible should be the one Banjaras should follow.

Sunil regularly meets with such people in power and often takes them along with him for Truthseekers’ footwashing events.  By influencing those on the top, Sunil hopes to bring about significant change for those on the bottom.

Welcoming In

But not all of Sunil’s activities are geared towards the powerful.  Much of his work happens simply by being present for the many powerless people who come by the Truthseekers office throughout the week.

Songwriters, farmers, poets, potters… Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists, Muslims… a motley stream of the weak, the ostracized and those attempting to reform the system from below, all coming to see what this radical movement of equality is all about.

The other day, for example, I met a man at the office named Sharafat Hussain Siddiqui.  A Muslim imam, he was once a revered and respected leader of his community.  But after reading some confusing things about Jesus in the Koran, he turned to the Christian Bible for answers.

Today, he runs what he calls a “modern madrassa,” a school where he teaches both Islam and Christianity to his students.  It’s a controversial idea, but he has found a community of supporters in Truthseekers and a fellow revolutionary in Sunil.

Sunil Sardar with a young caste leader.

Many Others

There are many others, and their stories are all unique.

The leader of a stone-carving caste wanting to copy Truthseeker’s worship style in his hometown, doctoral students from local universities, interested in learning more, the family of a man murdered in a caste power-struggle, looking for justice and protection…

With each one, Sunil takes time and energy to hear their stories and encourage them in their struggles.  He tells his visitors the story of Phule, and tirelessly shares, again and again, about the caste-less kingdom of God and the awesome power of Jesus Christ.

It really is a movement, and every day it continues to grow…

—–

As I sat on the stage at the rally in Meerut, I could see Sunil sitting on the other side.  He was shaking hands, smiling as he greeted the other guest speakers.

As he stepped up to the podium, I knew one thing for sure.

I may have been out of place and awkward up on that stage.  But Sunil?

He was right at home…