Train Tracks | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Train Tracks | Previous Challenge Entry
By Cheryl Thiessen
02/19/09
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I felt uncomfortably conspicuous as my companions and I sat on the bench at the train station. There we were, five white women from the United States dressed in culturally correct Indian ‘suits’, waiting for the next train that would take us to a conference at which we were to speak. After many months of training and preparation, we had made the trip to India to bring encouragement and teaching to young Believers. Despite our respectful attempts to blend in, it was obvious no one was fooled by our attire as we were closely being watched by a sea of brown faces. This blatant curiosity wasn’t offensive by any means; they were just as fascinated with us as we were with them.

I'll confess, I love to people watch, so I studied the different groups located near us on the train platform. There were several East Indian men who looked like business professionals, or men who held some kind of important ‘positions’. I saw a group of young men that gave me the impression they were students as they were dressed much more casually, and some even in a more ‘western’ style, even a pair of denim jeans! Scattered around were family groupings, some of which seemed to span several generations.

Looking beyond my fellow passengers, I noticed the work crew in the ditch alongside the train track. This seemed to be a section of track that was out of commission, surrounded by heavy rocks and soil. As I looked more closely, I noticed a tall thin man, covered in sweat and dirt, swinging a pick ax, breaking the large pieces of rock into smaller manageable sizes. These smaller pieces were then gathered and placed in a large basket carried by young woman. Dressed in a traditional Sari, this woman seemed out of place. Her brilliant green-blue dress was dulled by the dirt and grime that covered her as she gathered rocks. Once her basket was filled, she climbed out of the ditch, and balancing the basket on her head, walked down the train tracks and discarded the basket contents. I watched as the man and the young woman repeated this work, only to take a break to drink some water.

As I watched this couple, I felt sad. Through the training I had in previous months, I knew that although the caste system is outlawed in India, it is still unofficially observed. This physical labor was probably as good as it was going to get for this young couple. There would never be an opportunity to climb the corporate ladder, or have hope of increasing their monthly income. This was their work that they would be assigned to do for the rest of their lives.

What seemed to signal quitting time, the man and woman gathered their tools into the basket which the young woman once again balanced on her head. The man stooped down, but I couldn’t quite figure out what he was doing as my view was blocked by a small wall. As he stood up, it became clear. He was holding a very young child in his hands. Evidently this child had been sitting in the ditch near the train tracks, alongside the working man and woman. Carefully placing the filthy toddler on his shoulders and steadying him with one hand, the man grasped a water canteen in his other hand and followed the young woman down the length of the train tracks and out of sight.

I was stunned. The image of the baby with matted hair, caked in dirt was alarming to me. Every motherly alarm went off inside of me. I couldn’t make sense of this. This seemed so unfair, so unjust….so unlovely.

In an internal fit I ensued a frenzied dialog with God; “I can’t do anything for these people. This is beyond me Lord! What am I going to say that will matter to anyone in anyway? These people don’t have any kind of hope. Where is their hope?”

Soon a train pulled up in front of the station and the other 4 white women and I boarded the train. Although I was tired, I couldn’t sleep as I kept thinking about the what I had witnessed on that platform. I felt humbled and burdened.

After awhile, I heard a still, quiet voice in my spirit. I was reminded of why I was in India. It merely said, “I am their hope.”

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