The 28th Hour...Indian Railway

India's green countryside rolls by beyond the iron rod windows, as my growing belly rocks steadily to the rhythm of the old sleeper car rumbling on. Somewhere along the 24th hour the temperature gradually began to rise as we journeyed further south, forging past open fields and crowded villages where sari-ed women hang colorful cloth out to dry in the sunny morning air. Straw huts and roaming cows line the edge of the railway, and the beauty of simple living rituals fill my sight. Freshly washed wet rags beating on river rocks, baskets balanced atop confident heads, and wallah after wallah after wallah exclaiming proudly "Chai! Chai! Chai! Garram Chai!" to the rising sleepy-eyed travelers in that distinctive wallah way. As I take in the newness of the Indian culture, Her people stare at us, their only light-skinned companions in the whole car, with equal curiousity. Traditionally dressed, pierced, and bindied native women, modern clad Indian men, and white bearded turbaned babbas are amongst the boistrous crowd surrounding us. Beggers, train sweepers, and cross dressers, roam the aisles in search of charitable passengers willing to donate rupee coins to their cause. We give to a few and bless the rest, learning discernment in a hungry India. As vast as the land, from snowy mountain tops to humid jungles, are its peoples. A kind Sikh Baba watches over us on the crowded train and a small child gazes deep into my eyes with pure light, and the grace of the Motherland weaves her way through two young lovers hearts. -Rosemarie