Sunil Goes Home

One of the first days we were in Kolkata Josh and I were walking down a dusty back alleyway when a man with a limp greeted us.  “Hello!  How are you liking Kolkata?”  “It’s great,” I said, “and you?”  “Actually I am not liking Kolkata.”  And that is how we came to know Sunil.  Sunil is originally from Varanasi where he grew up poor and illiterate but at least he had family.  His leg got injured and infected some years ago and he found help at the Missionaries of Charity.  It was there that he learned English and became a Christian.  Just a few months ago he lost his boat license (he worked as a river tour guide in Varanasi) and so at the age of 38 decided to move to Kolkata to look for work.  Kolkata, however, as is the case for most job-seekers and refugees had been a disappointment; his injured leg got hit by a motorcycle, no work was to be found, and he was reduced to living with his two children and his wife on the street; living off of free rice distributions. 

Visiting with Sunil in his "home"

It was two in the afternoon and sweat was rolling down my back in the 100+ degree heat as I sat on the stained cardboard laid out hospitably for me on the sidewalk.  It was the third time I had visited Sunil and his wife and I was truly enjoying our conversation.  People walking by had stopped to stare at two white people sitting on a curb talking to a brown homeless man until a small crowd was assembled.  Two bags of rice and one bag of photos and hospital bills hung on the gate above our heads, the extent of his possessions.  Josh leaned over and asked if I wanted to buy them train tickets back to Varanasi.  I nodded.  We slipped Sunil 700 Rupees (about $10) and suddenly hope was restored and another chance began.  Sunil took the next day’s train with his family and plans to sell his boat in Varanasi, move into his Grandmother’s house, and start a Chai shop. 

Sunil was trying to explain to his friend how to operate the camera

It is amazing what can happen when you are in the right place at the right time.  Sunil happened to speak English, be devoid of friends, and lack what was to us a very meager amount of money in order to quickly change all of his circumstances.  You can call it good luck or good timing but I think it was a Divine encounter.  I have found through my missions experience that these kind of solutions are not so easily solved unless God is directly involved.  The sad part of the story of course is that by helping a friend we lost him; however, next time I find myself in Varanasi I have half a journal page of directions to guide me to a second home and all the Chai I can drink.