Leaving Bobbili and heading toward Ongole meant an early morning train ride from Vizag. It seemed best for me to take a car from Bobbili to Vizag and spend the night at the rented flat of Anil, Vijay’s eldest son, who is working on his doctor’s degree as a dentist. This was I didn’t have to get up at 4am and make the 2 ½ journey from Bobbili to Vizag. I had a chair seat reserved for the journey leaving at 7:10am which ended up being a 5plus hour trip. What added to the interest of this trip is that I was traveling with two 50 pound suitcases, a carry-on bag, and a computer bag with my laptop. My “stuff” had also increased by a small cloth backpack, too, making a total of 5 pieces to manage. The train had overhead luggage racks and iy yool Anil and a friend of his both to lift the 2 suitcases into place as well as store my other 2 bags overhead. I told them I would get a porter to help me unload at my detraining stop (dream on!). I didn’t realize that at the smaller stations where the train stops for only 1 to 2 minutes, there were no porters at these stations—thus my dilemma began to become clear in my mind. The overhead luggage was on the side of the train that had 3 passengers seats beneath it making it impossible to reach the bags without asking people to move (in a language that I don’t speak!) and having watched the 2 young men lift the bags up, I was not sure that I could even get them down without their crashing to the floor.
On these trains, they do not announce the arriving stations, so you need to know when your station is coming up. My friend, Anil, had asked the ticket conductor to tell me one stop prior to mine so I would be ready to get down. I began to wonder that if all the passengers he had, he would even remember this request. After my train pulled into the first small station on the journey and was there LESS than a minute before moving again, I knew then that the best laid plans of mice and men had better be better than the ones I had in mind! I listened around me to notice if I heard anyone speaking English—no, it was all the Telegu language of which I only know how to say “Thank you” and “sit down” (this last term I had learned to say for crowd control in medical clinics when things began to get out of line). The fact was, I needed to know how to say “please help” and “stand up”, not the 2 terms I knew! About half way through the morning, a young Indian couple got on the train and sat in the seat behind me. After they had gotten settled in, I turned and asked the young man if he spoke English. His reply was music to my ears. He said “yes” that he lived in Sweden and had returned home temporarily to get married. I then explained to him my situation. He said that was no problem and he would be glad to help. I know some of you were praying for me on this trip. Here was one of your answered prayers! Note: I am not in any way discounting the decisions for Christ we had at the street preaching that you had prayed for, too.
For many years in the past, Mary Lou and I had worked on the other side(west coast) of India at Mumbai (formerly called Bombay). One of the pastor’s there (Stephen) , his wife (Goldie) and their then 3 year old daughter (Melody) had developed an attachment for us and had kept somewhat in contact through the last 15 years since we saw them last. For the last 2 years, he has been calling and emailing me, asking, requesting, begging that I visit them at their “native place” when in India. Well, their place was along the train route I was taking on this trip so plans had been in the making to make a brief stop for a short visit. The train stop name is one that I have had a hard time pronouncing every time: TadePalliGudem. Since I had anticipated (a stroke of genius) that somewhere along this journey from Vizag to Ongole (my final destination) I might need some help, I had asked Minnu from Ongole to meet me at ths stop. Minnu is the young man who is now overseeing our Hands of Compassion boarding home program and usually meets our team when we arrive in India at Chennai (formerly Madras). So I had asked Minnu to meet me at TadePalliGudem station to make the train stop and change of trains. It had been necessary at the last day to move this trip back by one day, so I had not heard from Minnu as to the exact time he would be at this stop to meet me, but had also not heard that there would be any problem doing so. This weighed on my mind a little, too.
As we came within one station of my stop, the young Indian man had recruited a man across the aisle from him to help with the bags. Fortunately, quite a few of the passengers had gotten off the train at some of the intervening stops making it easier for the two of them to manage the suitcases. We lined them all up right at the door to the train waiting for the stop to come up. I had told them that there would be a young man about their age waiting to take the bags from them. Wrong! Minnu was not there. As the train stopped, my “helpers” looked out and saw no one to receive the bags so they began to set them off the train. As we had just gotten them off I profusely thanked them for their kindness and the train started pulling away, Pastor Stephen and his group of about 5 or 6 people came running up. They had been at a different track in the station. I asked them about Minnu who was to meet me and they told me that he was at the bus station as he had to take a bus for part of his journey and they would pick him up. Knowing how slowly things can move in India, and how un-timeconscious they can be, I looked at my watch as saw that it was no 1 o’clock and my next train was at 3:19. Since their small car was not large enough for all of us and my luggage, they hired an “auto”—a three wheeled vehicle that runs on a Briggs & Stratton engine and has seats for 3 passengers plus a driver—to carry the extra people and my luggage. Arriving at the home to eat, the wife was busily preparing the food while we drank tea. The “auto” waited outside with my luggage. At this point I inquired again as to where Minnu was. They said the the local pastor was picking him up in an “auto” and they would eat elsewhere.
When we finally finished eating, the time was now 2pm and was assured it was not problem. I really began to feel uncomfortable when Pastor Stephen asked me what time I usually went to bed. Then he asked me what I ate for breakfast. Going to bed and eating breakfast there WAS NOT IN MY PLANS. I told him we had better get moving soon. He then told me that there was a small group of believers who had been waiting for over an hour in a village about 12 kilometers from there for me to say a word with them and prayer. We 5 loaded up into the card and made a 20 minute journey over bumpy, dirt roads (headed in a direction away from town and the train station). By the time we got stopped, unloaded, walked into where they small group was singing, Minnu arrived in an “auto”. It was now 2:30. There was no way I was going to leave this small group of people who had been sitting on the floor waiting without sharing something briefly with them—the train would just have to wait. I measured my words carefully and had prayer with them and thanked them for their faithfulness. After our goodbyes with them and their pastor, back into the car at last (and Minnu in his “auto”) we began to travel. Not knowing the roads, I began to feel comfortable about the time and the ride back to the station. THEN, we began along this dirt road I had not seen before, then we turned off onto a small road that led across a very large rice paddy, where as far as I could see, there was nothing ahead that looked like civilization. This prompted me to ask as I looked at my watch and it was now 2:45, “Where are we going?” The reply was that we were going to stop at a piece of property where Goldie, Pastor Stephen’s wife, had planned to build a church and a children’s home. Those of you who know me know that I am a very patient person—but now mine had just about run out. I told them to stop the car and head back to the train station. Just as though it had been planned, that was right where the property was so we unloaded, had prayer dedicating the property and back into the car, just a Minnu and his little “auto” caught up with us out in the middle of the rice paddy. Now started Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride (sorry about that Disney) as we raced to the train station with the driver taking a short cut or two ending up further back in the line of traffic that he had been before trying the shortcuts. Arriving at the train station a little after 3 o’clock, we gratefully learned that the train was running late and would be departing at 3:30. I was thankful for this as Minnu and my luggage had not yet arrived.
I don’t know whether you are tired of reading this yet, but by this time I was exhausted—mentally and physically. My luggage and Minnu were a sight for sore eyes when they arrived and he rushed up to the window to get our confirmed tickets, then into the station. Our train was to arrive on a track across the way from where we were. This meant going up 2 flights of stairs that take you over the top of the trains and tracks. Since there were no porters, this meant the luggage had to be carried. Minnu had an answer for that. He had us move the luggage to the edge of the platform, jumped down about 4 feet to the tracks, then the luggage was handed down to him, he crossed over several layers of tracks and passed the luggage up on the other side making 3 trips back and forth to get it there. The rest of us went up and over using the stairs. As we stood there waiting for the train to pull in, Pastor Stephen and his group talked about how they were looking forward to my coming back next year and holding a crusade with them (all the while my mind was saying “not on your life”) and I quoted from James about how we say we will do this and that but our plans have to fit into God’s plans. This eased my mind and, I hope, theirs. What a beautiful sight it was to see that train coming into the station. The train was a long one and our compartment passed us right on by and we were way down the tracks from where we were to board. As I tried to hurry to catch up with our compartment, those holding my hand were in no hurry, so I almost dragged them along to get to the compartment. There was no way I was going to miss that train! Getting the luggage up into the train, I had no thought as to where it was going to be stored—just get it on the train. And so we did. Whew—I’m tired, how about you? From India with Love #4 will follow. (I remember an old hand here in India telling me just a couple of days ago that there was no way he was about to get on a train in India and head off by himself. I thought now, “What a smart guy he is!”) Mel-in India.
