Yawning through the Dawn

Its early, but not so bright here at dawn in Kolkata.

There is something remarkable about the morning, especially in a city where work is life, it is work that preserves us for the next day. Despite the playful cries of children, the howling of dogs, and unidentified bangs that orchestrate my dreams each night; at dawn All is at rest.

For six days a week, before life takes motion, a miracle takes place, cultivated by simple hands and driven by the vision of one who can only be thanked through prayers sent to heaven. What seems like a small operation, is nothing less than a revolution… simply concealed in the texture and silhouette of rice and lentils.

For these 6 days and for the last 30+ years the hungry have been fed and today, we woke with the setting of the moon to witness a raising of life. In a few hours and a picturesque drive among the cauliflower fields and fish markets of West Bengal, 25,000 people were fed.

I think on my life, on the awe-inspiring moments where, despite the life that races around us, God stills us and for a moment time stops and we breathe and in that breath we are sustained. We are sustained beyond that moment or this day, it is in that breath that we transcend.

Today I was mesmerized. Today, I transcended. I have worked and prayed, laughed and cried in this job. I have only a small role, a minor contribution, but for three years I have been saturated in the stories of Kolkata. Stories of need and provision, of sacrifice and sustainability. Today, I witnessed the simplest of acts… the sharing of food. But it is in this act that the poor of Kolkata are rising, rising from poverty, from hunger and from need. It is in this act, instituted on one street corner 50 years ago, that I now know Hope.