onya and I walk into the small hole-in-the-wall greasy-spoon restaurant and find a seat near the back. Auntie Padma, the owner, greets us warmly. The menu, much like the décor, doesn’t offer much to please our senses, but we often go there because we know Auntie Padma. We order soup and vegetable momos (steamed dumplings with cabbage, onions and carrots).

While we wait for our meal, I sip hot water from a barely washed cup. Tonya notices two posters pasted haphazardly next to each other high up on the grease-stained wall. The first poster shows pictures of food with the message “Foood is God” printed across the middle. The second poster also features images of food, but with a different message: “God is the Source of Life, Food is the Source of Energy.”

We laugh heartily about the obvious contradiction. However, these two posters underscore the sad truth of the cultural context here in Darjeeling. If you were to visit Darjeeling and take a stroll around town, you would find posters in windows and bumper stickers on cars that would say things like, “Duty is God,” “Love is God,” “Truth is God,” or even “You are God.” If I were to ask Auntie Padma if she believed duty is God or love is God, she would probably say yes, or she might say no. More likely she would shrug her shoulders and waggle her head side to side, which loosely translates to, “Who can really know?” This is the paradoxical ambiguity at the core of Hindu culture.

We live in a rented apartment, and our landlord is not a very nice man. He is a lawyer, giving him some standing in society, and he is extremely proud and greedy. He is also a devout follower of a guru from southern India named Sai Baba. Sai Baba claims to be the reincarnation of Christ and does many “miracles.” Sai Baba once gave our landlord a ring that he “conjured” out of thin air. Sai Baba teaches that every human being is God and that when we come to realize this, we will not be greedy, and we will love everyone. Our landlord believes this and has often told us he doesn’t care about money at all because money is simply a passing cloud. However, he often gets very angry and stressed about money. In fact, he gets so stressed that he suffers from insomnia. He believes that, because he is enlightened and has realized his “God-consciousness,” the things of this world have no hold over him anymore. Yet we can see that he is a slave to greed and pride. We can see the obvious contradiction between his words and his actions, but he can’t or chooses not to. He is a prisoner of the paradoxical ambiguity.

The other night, some neighbor boys came over to play Nintendo at our house. They were in the middle of a game when our neighbor friend Mamta knocked on our door. She sometimes helps our landlord’s wife with cleaning and cooking, and she was dropping by on her way home. As I was wishing Mamta goodnight, the kids cried out, begging me not to let her go home alone. They were afraid a ghost would accost her in the darkness. With a smile, Mamta replied to them that she was a Christian and therefore was not afraid of ghosts. The kids were obviously wowed.

Children and adults here in Darjeeling are afraid of the spirits of those who have died. They are even afraid of the spirits of their beloved relatives. We’ve asked people before if their family member who died was a kind person and loved them. People have always told us yes, but they are still afraid that the relative who loved them in life will torment them in death. If you ask them why their loved one would want to do them harm after death, they simply waggle their heads and shrug their shoulders. They live in fear because of the paradoxical ambiguity of death and the afterlife.

The other day I was walking through a crowd of people in the main market when I heard the distinct cries of a little boy having a temper tantrum. A moment later, a chubby little fist struck my shin. As I looked down, I saw the little boy who was having a violent disagreement with a man I guessed was his father. Just then, the boy cleared the contents of his throat and nose and spewed a slimy mass of mucus all over the front of his father’s pants. The boy then ran off, leaving the father standing there looking embarrassed and dejected.

As I walked on, I thought back on my childhood and tried to imagine what my father would have done to me if I had acted like that. Likely, I wouldn’t have been able to sit on anything but a bean bag chair for a week. However, people here rarely discipline their children. Sometimes they punish them if they get angry enough, but they don’t systematically teach their children to obey and behave respectfully. In Hindu belief, children are born pure, holy and good. If you ask a mother here if her children sometimes act naughty and disobedient, she would tell you yes. If you asked her why her children, who were born perfect, act so badly sometimes, she would likely waggle her head and shrug her shoulders. She wouldn’t be able to explain it. It’s a paradoxical ambiguity.

A Hollywood disaster movie entitled 2012 was released worldwide last year. This film, depicting the apocalyptic end of the world, was quite popular at the local movie theatre here in Darjeeling.

Interestingly, there is a belief among Nepali Hindus that the world might end in the year 2012. Many believe we are living in the last age of the world, called Kali Yug, or the Dark Age, and that this final, dark chapter in earth’s history will end in 2012. Other than Hindu priests, people don’t talk about it much. If you asked someone here if they believe the world will end in 2012, they might say yes or they might say no. Most likely, because nothing is absolute or certain in Hinduism, they would waggle their head and shrug their shoulders, because who can really know? They would probably agree there is much darkness and evil in the world, but they wouldn’t want to linger on the topic because there isn’t a place for hope or a hero to find a foothold in the paradoxical ambiguity.

As we finish our momos and pay our tab, I wonder what Auntie Padma would say if I asked her if she believed food is God. She might say yes or she might say no. If I asked her if God gives us life and food gives us energy, she might say yes or she might say no. For Auntie Padma, there really is no contradiction. And if there is, it doesn’t really matter, because who can really know what the truth is anyway?

Jesus once said, “I’m the Light of the world, and if you follow me you won’t have to live in the paradoxical ambiguity anymore, because I’ll make everything clear to you.” (My paraphrase of John 8:12). Please continue to pray for us as we seek culturally sensitive and meaningful ways to share this truth with the Gorkha people of Darjeeling.