CORINTH

Score one for creative acronyms: CORINTH stands for the astounding Christian Organisations' Response In Networking To HIV/AIDS.

Being in a Corinthian city that greater Mumbai is, it makes sense, in a rather perverse way.

We met as CORINTH today. A small group of 15 odd souls - hosted at IM Cares - one of the founding groups that helped get CORINTH underway a decade or so ago. Besides ACT, Oasis, Sahaara and us at Jeevan Sahara, we also had two pastors from AoG churches to round off the meeting.

What struck me today was this: each person in the room - every single one of them - has done so much to make a difference around them. It is such a privilege to call these men and women as friends and colleagues. We have seen that each one of them have been faithful at what they were entrusted with. At the end of the day, what more can we ask? We have our warts and weaknesses, our hobby-horses and tangents - but at the end of the day, I am so proud to be part of these dear brothers and sisters in Christ.

How about you? Who are you working with? Are you building them up or tearing them down? The days we have to live are not many. Lets make the most of them. Time is short, life is full. Lets move along with people who really matter (warts included) and structure our days together.

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On a very different note - the meeting was held in 'Elim' at Nana Chowk, the very house that I grew up in. IM Cares is renting it now, and OM used to be there. We moved there when I started class 1 at Cathedral School, and moved out when I finished boarding school at Woodstock. Just over the street is now what is India's largest appartment building - all 45 floors! And on my way to the meeting with James DCosta, we saw two huge towers that are almost finished - they are going to be 65 floors high. Right behind the compound another 2 huge towers are being built. Timothy Gaikwad tells me that they are going to be 65 floor monsters too!

The Long Goodbye

The call came early in the morning.

Uncle is sick - and we are going South today.

The elderly couple left Mumbai at the stroke of noon.

Their grown children abroad, calling on the mobiles, giving advice

Uncle sitting erect with his native dignity, somewhat intact

Both of these saints have HIV, the sickness that does not dare say its name

They were leaving town because at the end of the day they needed love, respect and help

Neither of the abroad-settled adulted children of theirs could offer

A small sliver of hope rests in a cluster of families who said come, live with us

Will we see Uncle again, this side of eternity?

Hallo?

Why does this photo grab your attention?
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I think it has to do with the exotic in the familiar - and what is familiar being exotic.

We don't have a tribesman from the Phillipines driving through our neighbourhood everyday (though we have lots of other sights and sounds that would seem super strange to many of you...).

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The wooden scooter also catches you off guard. I drive a black (and rusting) metal Honda scooter. Would love to slip by on the wooden jobbie our friend is using. The familiar in unfamiliar form...

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Finally, the expression on the face of the man. So, well - normal. He seems to have stepped out a Tintin comic (you almost expect Thompson and Thomson to be in pursuit) and yet though he has a slight smile - he seems to be moving forward as if he is the most normal person in the world.

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Which he is.

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We create our own exotica by what we don't see in our surroundings. For this dear man - his life is as ordinary (and as many splendoured) as each one of us experiences our own.

Aliens

Its been over a decade since I came back to Bharat from my many years of study in the US. One of the things I still remember is arriving at JFK airport and being told to stand in a queue for 'Aliens'.

It felt down-right wierd to be called something from outer space. Enoch has recently made a line of bunny rabbits in clay that have that alien flavour to them:

But then again - the apostle Peter writes to the Christians who were scattered by persecution all over the known world of that time - and addresses them as God's children - strangers and aliens in this world.

"What a mess this world is in, I wonder who began it? Don't ask me, I'm only visiting this planet" said Larry Norman many moons ago (he actually died recently).

The good news is that we have a home - here on good old earth - but one that will be marvellously different from what we see around us today. St. John writes about seeing a 'new Jerusalem' coming down from heaven - and sees all of God's people living in this new city - with God Himself to be our light and life.

I'm on the side of the aliens.

Ruth

One of the problems with the Bible is that it tells things like they are. Far from being a pie-in-the-sky hopeful-monsters account of the world (past, present future) we get a warts and all picture of what we dear humans look like.


Today's bombings when another 70 Iraqis died underlines this horrible trend. Nothing new if you look through the savagery of men described in the book of Judges. At the same time, the continued blood letting cries out for some kind of change. Surely this cannot go on?
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It was into a time of anarchy that we see the defeated widow Naomi returning to an uncertain future in her long-before-abandoned town of Bethlehem. All she had with her were her bitter memories of the past - the shame of the present - the uncertainty of the future - and her Moabite daughter-in-law: Ruth.
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In a time of terrible sexual violence - we see Ruth going out to the fields to try and glean grain. She finds shelter in the field of Boaz - a righteous and godly man. Against all odds - Ruth not only thrives - but is united in marriage to Boaz, and completes the cycle by having a child Obed. This Obed make his mark as the grand-father of King David.
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We see so many desperately sad situations. It seems often that God has left the picture. Not so. Ruth and Naomi point to a God ever willing to intervene. Do we believe? Really? Around us we see women abandonned as their husbands die of HIV disease. Every path seems blocked. Just like it was for Ruth and Naomi so long ago. The same God is still around. A God who personally looked out for Ruth - and brought her into a family. We know that there are no easy answers - no push button solutions in sight. But His own presence is there - even in the darkest times - and we are His hands and feet!
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You are the often the answer to the prayer you are praying.

Heart / Stroke

Mr. Treman was very sick when he came into our centre this morning. He couldn't use one arm. His pulse was hardly detectable. We thought it was the end. His mother was in tears - praying to God. Please help him - save my son she cried.

Sheba came over and checked him out. It looked like a heart attack and a stroke. We couldn't help him at our centre - people with HIV get strokes too. He needed an ICU. And fast.

We called up our parent hospital - Lok Hospital - and asked whether he could bring him over. Our staff member Daniel Kautikkar went over with the family. The cardiologist detectd an arterial blockage in the arm. Two days of the medication would cost Rs. 30,000/-. The hospital agreed to give all the other costs free - if the family could pay for the meds. They did. It was a question of his arm - being amputated - or his life ending. The meds and the prayers flowed.

This morning we got the miracle news. Mr. Treman is able to use his arm again. He is out of immediate danger. A big, big sigh of relief.

We feel so small so often. And yet God has and is using us. Another miracle. He loves Mr. Treman and his large and often complicated family very much. He loves you too.

Urban / Rural

India lives in the villages. Or so we are lead to believe. Well a lot of the village has come to the city.

The 2001 census data still states that 72% of our population is rural. I think that will be radically different in the 2011 census (only 3 years away now!).

Thane as a city has been doubling in population every decade. And this is not because the good folks hwere are very fruitful. The reason is simple. The cities offer cash. Offer some kind of hope. Offer dreams of something better than rotting away on a little bit of land, at the mercy of the rain and the tight set of local institutions that make up life in many villages.

And yet, when things get really rotten here in the big city - it is the gaon - the village that so many of our HIV positive friends talk about. A month ago, Mrs. Carlisle was deathly sick. Her husband had gone back to the village to see if his long-abandoned parents and siblings would welcome him. Mrs. Carlisle suffered from a perforation in her intestine. Somehow the neighbours took her to a government hospital. An emergency surgery was performed. She survived. Barely.

Mrs. Carlisle's aged mother finally came to look after her. In her post-op she was back in her hovel. Her husband came back - but could not get and keep a job. Food was perpetually low. This morning we found out that she had made a decision. Her mother, Mrs. Carlisle and the two children went back to the village. For how long? Her husband does not know. He has already rented out the tiny space of a home - to someone else - so that he can have some money to live off. Where will he sleep? Somewhere.

The village. Far off. Beckoning. A place dear to many living in urban squalor. A place of identity. An anchor of belonging - though this is often more wish than reality. And yet, for all the wonder of the village - we keep seeing people come back. If they are healthy enough too.

HIV adds its own twist to the story. Many say they would like to go back - but are too sick or too gaunt to dare. Others are so sick that they can only imagine what it may be like - to be 'home'. We know that most of our friends - if they are sick - who go to the village - don't come back. We hear about their deaths a few weeks later - if at all.

Most of us remain villagers at heart.