First I saw Temple Beth El. It's down the narrow Pollard Street and fenced in. After a minute, I saw a guy walk past. I asked if I could come in. He let me in the gate, but told me to wait until he asked someone if I could go inside. I was asked if I was Jewish (which sounds like "Juices" from many Indian people). Which country? America. So far, my story checked out. I also brought a yarmulke for a little insurance and it was perched on my head.
A small hunched old man with one tooth jutting down between his lips and short bristles of white hair forming a beard strolled towards me. He was wearing a wrapping in place of pants, indicating that he wasn't well off. He looked at me hard, a reverse Nazi, trying to find indicators of Jewishness on my face to allow me the privilege to enter the synagogue.
I was told I had to meet a Mr. David somebody who owned a shop in New Market to ask for permission to enter. Then, the guard and the old man changed their minds and called Mr. David somebody. I introduced myself and before I could continue, the old man asked for the cell phone and talked to Mr. David somebody himself. They asked me to write my name, nationality, hotel , and how long I'm staying in Kolkata, which seemed like an odd batch of information.
I asked the reasons for the process, genuinely interested, not annoyed. I was told, wordlwide terrorism was one reason (not locally though). Also, it's a house of worship, not a tourist attraction. And there would be beggars (the guard had a much more apt and less harsh word, but it's not coming to mind) storming the place.
The outside of the synagogue is pastel yellow with blue Stars of David seemingly randomly placed. It looks like an old school house with a tilted roof. Inside was quite striking. It's set in a Sephardic style with the rabbi facing the back wall from the middle of the synagogue and surrounded by open space. The congregation is off to both sides and facing the same direction, save for a few seats behind the rabbi and along the edges of the open space. The old man told me that they didn't have anywhere close to a minion. I believe he said they only have service on Saturday mornings, but that might be optimistic.
The old man then graciously walked me to the bigger synagogue, Temple Moghan David. Both were founded by the Baghdadi Jewish community who arrived from the Middle East (not just Baghdad) a couple hundred years ago. I would have found the barn-red building with a tall steeple (if that's what a steeple is, I don't really know), but I would've never found the way to get in. We had to walk through piles of goods and brush aside a confused vendor to open the gate.
The inside of the Temple Moghan David was quite beautiful. The lay out was the same as Temple BethEl. There were small stained glass windows and lovely calligraphy painted along the facade separating the ground floor from the seats in the balcony.
As the old man and I left, he asked where I was going now. I said the hotel. He asked where it was and I said Chandni Chowk and he pointed to where that was. I asked him for his name. He said, M.D. Khalil Khan (not the most Jewish name, I was reluctant to ask if he was for whatever reason). I asked if I could give him a donation and he said yes. I pulled out a 100 rupee bill and his eyes shined bright. So you can imagine his reaction when I pulled out the other 100.
I know, I'm another Bill Gates or Warren Buffet. 200 rupees is about $4.44. Even if Mr. Khan took that money only for himself, I would be pleased. I accidently followed him to his room, which is in the synagogue. It's smaller than Mother Teresa's was and gets exactly zero natural light. But this is a man who watches over great pieces of Jewish history. He deserves to be rewarded and it's a shame that he's not. It is evident the reverence and pride he has for the two great buildings, regardless of whether or not he's Jewish. It's too bad that we focus on Israel, America, and Europe at the expense of the other places where Jews have called home. That there were Jews in India (and still are a few) doesn't symbolize our history of persecution, but instead represents the wonderful diversity and spirit of the Jewish people.
And I pooped my pants.
No comments:
Post a Comment