IV. Breaking the Sound Barrier - CMC Ludhiana I

 I don't know why, but I am not afraid.

From sunrise to late night the city streets teem with meeping cars, scooters, bicycle and auto rickshaws, lazing dogs, children walking to or from school in uniform, women in brightly coloured salwar camise, handcarts of yarn or vegetables or sugar cane or pipes. Men sit in groups in front of tight-knit shop openings, staring as we pass. Fabrics, dresses, jewelery, potato chips and plastic utensils are all on offer on shop fronts. Alleys open up, like illuminated caves, more dresses, sandals, sweets and fruits geometrically stacked on large plates, incense, strings of marigold...

The traffic in old Ludhiana, where the streets are narrow and winding, is a river. All is reversed. Drivers on the left, look right before you cross. Step out in front of traffic; don't wait for a clear street or you'll be still standing there at midnight. Drivers veer around the vehicle, person or animal in front of them, sliding midway into oncoming traffic who in turn veer away from them. Pedestrians step into the oncoming flow, moving seamlessly to avoid what zooms past behind them, advancing just enough to beat the onrushing mob. Children chat as they slip along beside the throng.

David and I, of course, look left when we should right, and right when the danger is to the other side. And anyway, in these streets of varying widths, who can say whether we ARE the traffic and should walk on the left, or we are pedestrians walking AGAINST the traffic and therefore on the right? We trip on heaves of road, dodge potholes, regret our distraction and – funniest of all – say 'Excuse me' when we bump into someone.

In my presentations at the CMC, I have joked a bit about Canada-Meets-India. I describe western bewilderment with the Indian traffic system – how it has an intelligence of its own but can look like utter lawlessness to the inexperienced eye. I tell them how Canadians are people who have space and who say 'excuse me' and 'sorry' all the time, though we don't know why. The picture of Canadians excusing and sorrying their way through the roiling streets of India is comic indeed.

Rev Stanley Thomas is a beaming and jovial host – the head of the chaplaincy department at the Christian Medical College, a multiple staff team, serving the colleges, the hospital's staff and patients. The CMC is well regarded in India and around the world, with standards of admission and teaching that are high. The college was founded more than 100 years ago by a woman, and is the first women's medical college founded in Asia. They describe themselves this way: The CMC's "primary aim is to educate and train Christian men and women as health professionals, in the spirit of Jesus Christ for the healing ministry of the Church in India. However...this college also offers educational facilities to other young men and women irrespective of religion, caste or community." Students who have been sponsored by the church or the college make a commitment to work for 2 years in a rural clinic in India upon graduation.

Rev Stanley Thomas (Director of Chaplaincy), Linnea, Mrs Renuka Prim (Head of Evangelism)

I can tell there is a little rivalry between Ludhiana and her sister hospital down south because every time Rev Stanley introduces us to groups, he says, "Vellore wanted them to come, but we got them first!" He and his wife are "local guardians" to 74 students who come from outside cities and who need a parent-liaison while living on campus. So, he has the pastor's slow, thoughtful manner and ready smile, combined with the chaplain's busy student pace. He is always answering his cell phone's popeye-the-sailorman ring, making plans for the drums and guitar to be transported from one event back to us, and asking his many assistants or chaplains to bring us some forgotten piece of equipment or show us the lunch room.

After Students' Meeting

There is a respectful gentleness to the students and staff of CMC that is so sweet I am completely disarmed. Everywhere we walk, we are greeted with smiles (yes, some stares) and "Hello, Mam" or "Good afternoon". David is Mr David. Nicole is "Baby" to her elders (much to her chagrin). A quiet patience fills the room after our first evening's "students' association presentation". Young women and men stand around me after we are done, asking a polite question or two and then simply standing after I have finished answering. Should I speak more? Ask more? Are we awaiting another closing prayer? I am not used to such serene attention. Of course the Indian head wiggle does nothing to clear up the question; it can mean 'yes', 'no', 'maybe' or 'don't ask', near as I can tell.

Pre-Concert Pep-talk

 Rev Stanley has wisely decided to convene a CMC student choir (a regular ad hoc occurrence) to share a performance with us and a student "choreography" (dance drama). In this way, we are assured of a large audience. And so, on our first night in town, after we have made our "Cast Your Net" presentation to the students, we stay on for our first of three late-night choir practices. By Thursday and Friday evening, we will be prepared to perform 4 Linnea songs together. The students are strong, true singers although most of them do not read music. After dress rehearsal ostensibly has ended at 11pm on Wednesday evening, I hear that the students have stayed on to practice the choreography and have their photos taken for a poster that the team decided was needed by next morning. They knocked off at 2:30am and we awoke to find that a huge, plastic concert banner had appeared on the front steps of the college chapel. I see such posters magnificently appearing all over the campus, but Rev Stanley bursts into laughter as he explains that his team has moved the one banner from place to place all day long.

"Living in the Light" Songs for the Voiceless concert

So much happens in India at the same time. So many people brushing past one another, so many voices speaking and so many directions taken. It is all held together, somehow co-existing in an orderly chaos. I realize in one moment of choir practise, that 3 small groups are going over their part of "Living in the Light" at the same time. The confluence of notes out of time with one another is no problem at all to them. To Canadian ears, it is indecipherable, hilarious. I have to tell them how Indian this appears to me.

Furthermore, to my great joy, Patrick and Nicole are joining us in performance. Nicole plays percussion and Patrick picks up the guitar quickly to any song we are singing (except the old songs of the gospel with their shmaltzy diminished  7^th moments, unfamiliar to the dub step he produces). They are calm and supportive side musicians. Isaac runs our LCD projections, when needed, with increased mastery and mostly does not steal our show. Still, he is the star of this visiting family, receiving so much attention that he simply does not know how to react. Neither he – nor his sister – knows why people think he is so cute.

As I step out of our guesthouse and greet smile after smile, I feel elated and buoyant. Where I thought that my first couple of weeks in this hemisphere would require a super-human effort to retain my stamina, I feel light and energized. David and I simply can't stop smiling. The sound of Hindi speech, like raindrops tumbling on water, and the rapid fire of Punjabi join with the meeping, the honking, the sirens, the choir, the muezzins nearby, the clank and clamour of the industry around the college, rising like a great call to worship above the CMC walls.