When you get off the plane in India into a culture which has over 30,000 gods, you may find it a little hotter than you are used to.

Writing this series of blogs seems so insufficient. India was, and is, so much more than these moments which cannot really be put into words, only known deep in your soul.

“Nicky – hold on!” exclaimed my travelling companions as we bounced our way through remote villages along dusty roads in a tuk tuk, and then I felt someone’s hand grabbing hold of my arm for my safety.

An interesting night was spent sleeping in the school hut on a wafer-thin mattress, underneath mosquito nets, to the sound of dogs barking, howling and fighting as we waited for the arrival of the flood waters.

I wrote in an earlier blog that climate plays a rude villain to the people of the Sundarbans, as they are prone to yearly shocks of pre-monsoon cyclones, which severely damage habitation.

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine being on an island in West Bengal with a group of friends to visit the school, children, teachers and pastors.

When God placed India and the work of Vision for Asia on my heart two years ago, I thought it had to be a mistake. But out of obedience, I joined, and I went.

I saw my family, friends and neighbours worship their gods to get healing and salvation, but despite their prayers they never received it.