It was not the first time that I had woken up at 5am on Christmas day, but it was certainly the first time that I had then taken a 5.45am train into Sealdah, one of the largest stations in Kolkata, for Crawl's street kids project.
We met Boby, the project leader, who also lived in Khardah, on the platform. The sole benefit of travelling so early was that the train was just about bearable (although overflowing by any sane standard). We must admit to having been fairly apprehensive. We had little idea what to expect, but we'd read that the kids would be washed, fed, and have their wounds treated. We thought we could manage the first two but knew we were entirely unqualified to deal with the third. We were therefore relieved to hear that Boby used to work as a nurse, and even more relieved to hear that she didn't expect there to be any wounds to treat this time.
At around 6.30am we were dumped from the train into the chaos of Sealdah. Boby led us through the ever-curious crowd and out of the station. Almost immediately we were mobbed by small and very excited children. One slightly older girl gestured for me to take the hand of the small boy whose other hand she was holding. Soon afterwards, I had four kids clinging to my left hand, each taking possession of a single finger, while I tried to shuffle along with knees bent and back hunched over. On either side, adults watched us pass with a mixture of curiosity and amusement (or so it seemed to us).
Just around the corner we met a couple of women, who were the grand-mothers of some of the street kids. We watched incapably as the women lined up the kids, to whom we then dished out peanuts and chocolate sponge cake bars (a Christmas treat). Most kids were given one of each, but to some we were told by Boby to give two or three of each, since they had siblings who had not been able to make it. A few adult beggars wandered over optimistically, but Boby shooed them away.
We fed around 50 kids in total. They then drifted off to enjoy their Christmas breakfast while we packed up and made our way back into the station to catch the next train back to Khardah. By that time it was almost 8, and the crowds had arrived. There were no seats, but in our position by the door we weren't too crushed. Still, this was serious London rush hour at 8am on Christmas morning, which did not bode well for the next two weeks of commuting.
Once we arrived back at the flat, we had breakfast (boiled eggs and toast) and started to get settled in. Soon after it was time to head back into the city. Crawl's president, Subhamita, was celebrating the birthday of her son (more specifically, six months after his birth, as is Bengali custom), and had very kindly invited us. The party was being hosted by her parents-in-law, who lived near Howrah. This called for an epic journey. First, together with Boby and Pia (one of the older girls from Crawl), we took an overcrowded train to Sealdah. We then walked to the bus stop, where we somehow squeezed onto an impossibly packed bus and made the very intimate acquaintance of many new friends. It was like the Waterloo & City line at 9am, doubled: truly ludicrous.
We eventually disembarked, with great relief, and transferred to another bus that was thankfully less crowded. This brought us to the town of Subhamita's parents-in-law, who had rented a large place on the main street for the party. On the first floor we were welcomed by Subhamita, her husband, and their parents. We had a brief chance to chat with them before they were whisked off on hosting duties. Shortly afterwards we were beckoned upstairs for the start of the feast, along with more than a hundred other guests. We were seated across from a pleasant old Bengali couple: the husband spoke good English, and his wife smiled and showed us how to eat properly. The typical Bengali food was delicious and unending.
We had barely started to digest our enormous lunch when it was time to head back to Khardah. The bus back was even more crowded, and the mid-afternoon traffic stuttered, stuttered, and eventually stalled. Outside of the bus a small kid was selling bright red Santa hats on the street (and through the window of the bus). After 90 minutes on the now-sweltering bus, we decided to get off and walk the 15 minutes or so to Sealdah. Boby led us through chaotic streets of Kolkata, past a large parade of Sikhs celebrating their own holy birthday (Guru Gobind Singh), and into the station.
Another crowded train journey later and we were back at Khardah. We used the little energy that remained to prepare a very light dinner, to fire off a few emails, and finally to curl up under our mosquito nets to sleep.
We met Boby, the project leader, who also lived in Khardah, on the platform. The sole benefit of travelling so early was that the train was just about bearable (although overflowing by any sane standard). We must admit to having been fairly apprehensive. We had little idea what to expect, but we'd read that the kids would be washed, fed, and have their wounds treated. We thought we could manage the first two but knew we were entirely unqualified to deal with the third. We were therefore relieved to hear that Boby used to work as a nurse, and even more relieved to hear that she didn't expect there to be any wounds to treat this time.
At around 6.30am we were dumped from the train into the chaos of Sealdah. Boby led us through the ever-curious crowd and out of the station. Almost immediately we were mobbed by small and very excited children. One slightly older girl gestured for me to take the hand of the small boy whose other hand she was holding. Soon afterwards, I had four kids clinging to my left hand, each taking possession of a single finger, while I tried to shuffle along with knees bent and back hunched over. On either side, adults watched us pass with a mixture of curiosity and amusement (or so it seemed to us).
Just around the corner we met a couple of women, who were the grand-mothers of some of the street kids. We watched incapably as the women lined up the kids, to whom we then dished out peanuts and chocolate sponge cake bars (a Christmas treat). Most kids were given one of each, but to some we were told by Boby to give two or three of each, since they had siblings who had not been able to make it. A few adult beggars wandered over optimistically, but Boby shooed them away.
We fed around 50 kids in total. They then drifted off to enjoy their Christmas breakfast while we packed up and made our way back into the station to catch the next train back to Khardah. By that time it was almost 8, and the crowds had arrived. There were no seats, but in our position by the door we weren't too crushed. Still, this was serious London rush hour at 8am on Christmas morning, which did not bode well for the next two weeks of commuting.
Once we arrived back at the flat, we had breakfast (boiled eggs and toast) and started to get settled in. Soon after it was time to head back into the city. Crawl's president, Subhamita, was celebrating the birthday of her son (more specifically, six months after his birth, as is Bengali custom), and had very kindly invited us. The party was being hosted by her parents-in-law, who lived near Howrah. This called for an epic journey. First, together with Boby and Pia (one of the older girls from Crawl), we took an overcrowded train to Sealdah. We then walked to the bus stop, where we somehow squeezed onto an impossibly packed bus and made the very intimate acquaintance of many new friends. It was like the Waterloo & City line at 9am, doubled: truly ludicrous.
We eventually disembarked, with great relief, and transferred to another bus that was thankfully less crowded. This brought us to the town of Subhamita's parents-in-law, who had rented a large place on the main street for the party. On the first floor we were welcomed by Subhamita, her husband, and their parents. We had a brief chance to chat with them before they were whisked off on hosting duties. Shortly afterwards we were beckoned upstairs for the start of the feast, along with more than a hundred other guests. We were seated across from a pleasant old Bengali couple: the husband spoke good English, and his wife smiled and showed us how to eat properly. The typical Bengali food was delicious and unending.
We had barely started to digest our enormous lunch when it was time to head back to Khardah. The bus back was even more crowded, and the mid-afternoon traffic stuttered, stuttered, and eventually stalled. Outside of the bus a small kid was selling bright red Santa hats on the street (and through the window of the bus). After 90 minutes on the now-sweltering bus, we decided to get off and walk the 15 minutes or so to Sealdah. Boby led us through chaotic streets of Kolkata, past a large parade of Sikhs celebrating their own holy birthday (Guru Gobind Singh), and into the station.
Another crowded train journey later and we were back at Khardah. We used the little energy that remained to prepare a very light dinner, to fire off a few emails, and finally to curl up under our mosquito nets to sleep.
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