India in my head

Sometimes I wonder why I feel a little foggy mentally, or have trouble concentrating on the task in front of me. This could be due to a host of reasons, but it has helped recently to remember that one contributing factor is the subcontinent in my head. I can go for awhile functioning in the here and now, living life in St. Paul, Minnesota. But lately, I’ve encountered many things that remind me of our life in India. Sometimes it’s a direct link, sometimes a similarity or a contrast. This past Sunday, I was struck by how different our 3-block stroll to church is from the bumpy, 45 minute car ride we grew accustomed to in India. During the reading from the Old Testament, (Exodus 12:1-14) describing the division of the Passover lamb, the image of two sheep in the back of our neighbor’s minivan blazed in my mind. Our driver had raised them and was selling them to our neighbor’s driver, who purchased them for the Eid ul-Fitr feast at the end of Ramadan. As the gospel reading was read first in English and then in Sgaw Karen (language of the refugee people from Myanmar/Thailand) for the part of the Karen-speaking congregation, I was struck by the beautiful and familiar Asian features of those sitting near us; the easternmost state of India borders Myanmar. As I sort through things in the house, I occasionally run across an item with a price tag in Rupees, reminding me of all the daily transactions and negotiations that happened in this currency. Now the kids have some in their piggy banks and it looks like Monopoly money. Doesn’t feel real. When our house fills with the smells of garlic, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, onion, cardamom and a host of other spices, I am reminded of what we ate nearly every day. I miss hot lunches. I miss our dear cook, Kalpana. That’s all for now. More to come.