As people were rushing around to get flowers for their loved ones,

buying chocolates for their sweethearts, selecting diamonds for their

fiancees, wives, girl friends... sending beautiful cards with warm

and heartfelt messages, I was driving in the pouring rain and my

thoughts took me to a far away place. A place called Kolkata (aka

Calcutta), the ancient capital of India. Oh, India, a country of

antiquities and stories -- full of stories.                 

I traveld to Kolkata and my mind lingered and my thoughts slowly took

me back to the dark night when my feet touched the soil of

India. The airport was small, the queue was long. I waited

patiently for the immigration officer to put the stamp on my

passport. My heart was pounding, my emotions soared. I finally

arrived at the land when Mother Teresa spent most of her adult life,

I finally touched the soil that she touched. I finally ventured into

the place where she called home. How I longed for this moment! I

was excited and was overwhelmed with emotions.

Outside the airport, there were cars, taxis and many forms of

transportation. I took a taxi and slowly we drove into the

darkness. The city was quiet and I could not see very much. I could

not hear very much. We drove through an area of town where many

trucks were loading and unloading. Men carried their bags on their

heads. Slowly and steadily, they carried their loads to their

carts. This was one o'clock in the morning. Kolkata was quiet and

the city was asleep. Finally, I arrived at my destination, a small

hotel in the slum. I carried my small bag into my quarter - a space

that was tiny with a small bed barely enough to lie down. My

bathroom was difficult to describe, I lied down to sleep only to be

awaken by the bells of the bicycles and the honks of the cars and

trucks. I washed my face, hands and cleaned my teeth. II walked

outside into the noisy street of Kolkota.

There were hundreds of people roaming on the streets, walking,

talking, bathing, washing, eating, ... Buses were filled with

people. The buses were so worn and so tired. The eyes of the people

were so impressive, they were looking at me, staring into the sky,

signs of desperation, signs of hopelessness. I walked slowly toward

the AJC Bose Road, a place that I had been dreaming about for many

years. I walked toward the Mother House, a bookstore caught my

attention, I walked in and there, Mother Teresa was smiling at me. I

browsed through the small store and looked at the books. They took

me back to the 1930's-- pictures of Mother Teresa, pictures of

Kolkata, pictures of people dying on the street, by the river banks,

pictures of devastation.

54A A.J.C. Bose Road aka the Mother House is a building in the midst

of the slum of Kolkata. I walked past the entrance and found myself

looking at this structure, a little boy sensing my situation pulled

my pants and pointed me to the other direction. I then saw the doors

to the Mother House. Two Sisters greeted me with such warm smiles

and guided me to the entrance of Mother Teresa's tomb. Even in the

early hours of the morning there were many people in there. We

removed our shoes and walked quietly into the hall. Mother Teresa's

tomb sits quietly in the room. A Sister was putting fresh flowers on

her tomb. I went to the tomb and knelt by her side. Suddenly, all

seemed so quiet and tranquil. The noises from the outside were gone,

the room smelled fresh and wonderful. We prayed and prayed and we

sensed the presence of Mother Teresa in the room. I do not know how

long I stayed in her presence but I was so moved by being there that

time stood still. At that moment, eternity seemed possible.

Slowly, I moved to the next room to learn about this great person. I

slowly digested her letters, notes, pictures, newspaper articles,

books, magazines, on and on. Many pictures of Mother Teresa with

famous people were on display but what caught my attention was a

letter she wrote to some one asking for help--she wrote -- Today we

have not one grain of rice... We ask for your help.... How desparate

she must have felt! She was indeed a pure and simple woman, all she

wanted was to give herself to serve God and people.

There was a Sister who showed me around and I felt so humble and

honored to be there. The experience was life changing and

transforming. I felt that I was in a different world. Their life was

simple I walked up the stairs to the bedroom of Mother Teresa - a

simple bed, a wooden desk and a wooden chair. I really understood

how she lived and how she led her life - with purity and

simplicity. All the Sisters lived simply. It was only when one

visited their home did one really understood that it took such

simplicity to really work for the Divine Master.They looked happy and

kind and some of them were washing clothes. their simple sari and

others were sweeping the floor and the grounds. I walked barefoot in

the house and felt completely overwhelmed with gratitude, compassion

and humility.

There are seven facilities in Kolkata that one could volunteer. One

home looks after babies that have been abandoned from a few days to a

couple of years. Some normal, some disablied, and they all looked

happy and healthy. There was so much love and attention that I could

sensed such great compassion. The children called me auntie and

played with me. The babies and children could be adopted. Many

people come to help, volunteers come from all over the world - men,

women, young, old, professionals, housewives, engineers, doctores,

bankers,-- all of them are passionate, all of them are giving

and all of them are learning. People want to give because they are

touched by the dedication of the Missionaries to serve all human

beings in distress, keeping no caste, creed or language as a barrier.