Mother Teresa

Over two decades ago, something special happened to me. Something that lives with me to this day. I had finished work one evening and was heading to the bus stop to get my 'should take 7 minutes but takes half an hour' bus ride home.I think it was fortuitous that this was my intention, since it meant that I passed the first junction that I would normally turn into, had I decided to walk home. Some people thought I was insane to walk home since it took a good 45 minutes in the heat in my baby heel shoes (offspring of Mr and Mrs High Heels) my favoured form of foot wear. However walking served a dual purpose; first of all it meant that I didn't have to exercise when I got home (I wistfully remember doing this quite regularly in my twenties) and secondly, it meant I avoided the aforementioned bus ride home. Now you might wonder how a 7 minute bus ride could possibly take half an hour. Well if you have ever taken a bus ride from Panjim City to Miramar, you will need no explanation. If you haven't, let me paint a picture.

I would wait for the bus at a stop that was almost midway, so the chance of getting a place to sit was non existent. Also non existent was any form of a queuing system, so you were pushed and jostled and you either gave up or you pushed and jostled back until you managed to get on. After the bus was full to capacity, the bus conductor would blow his whistle and the bus chugged along (cyclists and joggers overtook us) to the next (market) stop, where yet more passengers would be waiting to get on the already overcrowded bus. Now the bus conductor would be in full voice, instructing the standing passengers on what pose to strike, so as to enable more passengers to squeeze in around you. Finally, after the bus was packed enough to give a sardine a severe case of claustrophobia, the conductor would shout "barik zao" which loosely translated means 'make yourself thin!" Stupid man - if I knew the secret to that, I would be rich and would be travelling in chauffeur driven luxury instead of the transportation of torture that was his bus.

Anyway, to get to the point, I took the second turning which took me past Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity's House. As I approached, I noticed about a dozen people waiting outside the house, most of whom were poor migrant workers. There was a buzz of excitement and anticipation. I stopped when I got closer to the house and to my utter delight, a car drove up and Mother Teresa got out! The joy on the faces of those workers  is something that I remember to this day. Although diminutive in stature, she had a presence and aura about her and intuitive intelligence in her deep set eyes. She smiled at us and spoke gently to a couple of the workers, holding their hands. She then went inside the house, leaving me inexplicably, euphorically happy. An effect she had on a lot of people. I am so grateful that fate (and some rude bus conductors) made me decide to walk that route on that day when Mother Teresa was visiting Goa. Today she is being made a saint but to me and millions of others, she always was a saint. It is just official now.