'A blue striped saree'.
Moti Jheel Slum, Calcutta. 1948.
The cotton cloth of a white, blue striped saree wafts gently in a hot, humid breeze.
Usually, this habit is that of a washerwoman, Kolkatans of the lowest caste. Today though, a stranger from a distant land dons it, a servant from Skopje, Macedonia. A foreigner with a heart to fill the cupped hands at her feet…
Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhu, more commonly known as Mother Teresa, was born in August 1910 to a family of Albanian descent in Macedonia. From a young age, she felt called to walk in and share the love of God, and via a trip to Ireland and an initiation into the Loreto order of nuns, was whisked away to work on missions in India.
Agnes took her initial vows as a nun in Calcutta in 1931, adopting the name 'Teresa' after her patron saint, Sainte Thérèse de Lisieux, and taught at a high school during her first seventeen years here. But the dire poverty and suffering she witnessed in the streets of the city moved her to take action.
Her mission was simple: to serve the poorest of the poor, to love those living in the depths of destitution. She began by learning not only English but Hindi and the local Bengali tongue, and wearing what would become her infamous blue striped saree, originally the cloth of the down-trodden, disdained washerwomen of the slums. Agnes had no funds, but trusting in divine providence and human generosity, with the help of her first volunteers, she set up her first open air slum school for the children of Moti Jheel.
'I see someone dying, I pick him up. I find someone hungry, I give him food. He can love and be loved. I don't look at his color, I don't look at his religion. I don't look at anything. Every person whether he is Hindu, Muslim or Buddhist, he is my brother, my sister'- Mother Teresa
Mother Teresa's initial work grew and expanded, attracting more and more funding and attention. In 1950 she officially founded her own order, the "Missionaries of Charity", which was recognised by Pope Paul VI as an International Religious Family in '65.
A family, that's exactly what this group of people felt like to me, from the moment I stepped into the 'Mother House', off central Calcutta's bustling A.J.C. Bose Road.
These are the humble headquarters of Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity, run by the 'Sisters of Mercy', an order of nuns dedicated to serving the poor, the untouchables, the starving, suffering and unwanted. Simply put, they love the unloved, and invite volunteers from all around our globe to join this extraordinary journey.
I had the opportunity to visit and volunteer at Shishu Bhavan, a home for mentally and physically disabled little girls, orphaned or abandoned by their families. These little humans were brimming with such energy and pure joy.
I also spent a day at Mother's first home Kalighat, a home for the 'dying and destitute', adults on the brink of death or starvation, welcomed in from the unforgiving streets. But don't be fooled by the morbid language: Kalighat and Shishu Bhavan are some of the most joyful and hope-filled four walled structures I have set foot in. Do bear with my Western gap-year volunteer clichés, but the sacrifice, charity and sheer love the nuns give to these people they look after night and day, was profoundly humbling and inspiring. They were not simply impersonal expressions of an institution as could be expected, but real people with real emotions, who made me laugh and cry and pointed me in their kindness towards Jesus. The patients themselves, whether old or young, fully able or bed ridden, and despite the barriers of language, emancipated such hope and such strength in the face of adversity. Beaten, abused, unwanted, abandoned: despite unimaginable suffering, both the elderly women and young girls I met smiled constantly, beaming with love, good humour and joyful gratitude for the simplest of things: a roof, some food, a moment of human touch, of recognition.
I also had the privilege of working alongside some truly wonderful volunteers from around the world. Tasks for volunteers varied from feeding patients, hanging laundry and cleaning, to playing games with them, or just sitting and being listening ears to their woes and wishes. We grew, moved and learnt together. It was a common notion among us volunteers that this community was giving us so much more than we could contribute.
One morning in mid June, still jet lagged and suffering from good old 'Delhi belly', I was nevertheless overjoyed when Sister Sophia, an extraordinarily bubbly nun from Kerala, asked me to create a painting for the orphanage's sensory meditation room. The brief: hope, joy, colour.
Every day I would walk through the big blue archway, with Mother's quote written on it, welcoming visitors into the orphanage: "Let us do something beautiful for God". I wanted to create in that Spirit, and I hope the final result somehow conveys the awe and love I felt. For God, for this place and for these people.
About three weeks later of supply-shopping (and heaps of bargaining), sketching, painting, sometimes painting myself accidentally, and sweating, lots of sweating, we unveiled Shishu Bhavan's own sunset scene, a nine metre squared wall painting which now has a permanent home in the orphanage. I was deeply moved, humbled and grateful for the opportunity to do this project, to connect with the children and Sisters, to leave that room a little more colourful than before. I received claps and kisses from the children, and I couldn't give much more back than a few emotional 'dhanyavaad's.
I left this Calcuttan community, the home of the blue saree, profoundly touched by Mother Teresa's legacy, which lives on in all these beautiful people, the patients, the sisters, volunteers, staff and all those hands behind the scenes. Having made friendships which will stay with me forever, I departed with my heart full and my soul inspired.
Below: Mother's Infamous words on the orphanage porch, the painting in progress and the finished result...
