A new home, a new day

Satish, his mother and the two other children went to their new home yesterday.

We had heard that the keys to the shack were with Mrs. Langru's sister. Turns out that it wasn't true. Rahul and Akshaydeep had helped Mrs. Langru sift through the debris of her home and pick out some things from the collapsed lean-to she lived in on the pavement. They then took her and the belongings to the new place.

The rain poured. Poured. Kalwa is pretty low-lying. A large river suddenly appeared where the road should be. No rickshaws willing to go there. Both young men soaked. They eventually got back at 5 PM.

In the meantime - they went with the Mrs. Langru's sister to find a new home. The man who said he would rent out turned out to be a drunkard. Amazingly they managed to find one within walking distance of Mrs. Langru's sister.

The little family left for their new home at 6 PM. Today they set up in the new place - which Mrs. Langru's sister is supporting. The staff met the family at home - and were pleased to see that Mrs. Langru had worked at cleaning up the place.

Satish is still sick and needs daily - hourly care. At the centre he always wanted to eat - showing his severe malnourishment slowly ebbing away. Remarkably, we found one of our trained volunteer from a local church who said she would go every day to meet the family and help out. Every day.

God doesn't do things halfway. We really need to keep trusting Him.

Police

Pity our police.

Somehow, I cringe whenever I come close to one of the men in khakhi. It gets worse when I am on our scooter and I see a white-shirt traffic cop straddling his motor-bike with a book in his hand. But what I feel is besides the point.

Pity the men who serve in the police forces.

Yesterday two of them were lynched in Kashmir. By who? Who knows? First it is one religious community. Then another. Tit for tat. My agitation is more vicious than yours. The country can go to hell.

Pity the men who are called to magically bring law and order to bear. Pity their bamboo canes which seems the only instrument the mob listens too. A brutal beating is the way to clear the rabble. Provided there are enough men in khaki to back you up. Otherwise the old look-the-other way takes precedence. In so much of our land the policeman is alone. And ever more often than not - the rabble-rousers are men of influence, known men.

Pity the hands who hold the guns. When the lathis don't work - there are the occasional gun shots. We are not talking about the notorious 'encounter killings' here - where crack police forces keep 'gunning down' criminals who are not left alive to tell much of their stories. The score always seems heavily stacked in the favour of the police in those 'encounters.' No, we are talking of the garden variety policeman who has to shoot. The bullets inevitably seem to find someone.

And then the sickening glorification of the dead as 'martyrs' and 'victims'. Politicians of all stripes descend. Large sums of money are promised (sometimes even given) to the survivors. Cries of the family : Our son is a good son. He would never do something wrong...

Where does the mob come from then? Each pair of hands, each hate-twisted face is someone's 'good son'...

Pity our underchallenged, over-worked, often lack-luster police force. We are not surpised to know that HIV is a major issue for the Thane and Mumbai police. The easy money that is available from bribes and the high pressures of the job mean that alcohol is many a cop's seeming best friend. Multiple sexual partnerships follow on. HIV doesn't look at who it infects - where there is sexual networking - you can expect HIV to show up sooner or later.

Pity our police. Pray for them. Be a true friend to our men in khaki.

Beauty in small things

Far away from the great grimy city of Mumbai (and its slightly less grimy satellites like Thane) lies a gem of a home - perched out on a cliff - overlooking the Dehra Dun valley.

Shanti Kunj is not only a welcome place for weary souls - Mum and Dad see to it that every person who enters the door is welcomed heartily - and fed well too! That Alcove of Peace also abounds in small beauties. Tucked into every nook and cranny.

At a time when all around us we see so much despair - it is good to remember that God engineers beauty as small scales too.

Each flower is a miracle. The way that these temporary blossoms burst into colour for their short lives defies logic. More so the joy for Mum, who after caring for her cactuses for years came back from a holiday once to find the lower flat a riot of hues - the dear prickly things had actually bloomed. Since then she has been an expert at coaxing out flowers from all things prickly.

Besides the ubiquitous books, there is also plenty of room at Shanti Kunj for things historical. A few of the artifacts from my grandfather Elmore and grandmother Alice still float around. A prize possession is a portable spinning wheel - complete with some cotton fibres and what looks like the beginning of a thread of khadi.

I always remember Opa Eicher (to me that is) as a bit of a stern man. It seems fitting, therefore, that one of the lamps has a wooden carving of a bull fiercely guarding the stem of the lamp.

Shanti Kunj has a strong bias towards wood. If Mum gets her hands on some wooden item, sooner rather than later it is stripped of whatever paint it had and a coat of varnish applied. The place fairly glows with wood (we pray no fires will take place of course)

But perhaps the greatest beauty on a small scale takes place in that temporary canvas of the table.

A great meal is made more of the love that is shown rather than the taste of whatever morsels on offer. Love is present in buckets through Mum and Dad and the other members of the Shanti Kunj family (we are thrilled that Premi is there now). What better place to see love made visible than in the way food is presented.

Thus ends our mini-tour of the small-scale beauty we have tasted (many times literally) at Shanti Kunj. A home is always far, far more than a house - and this home has been a beacon of hope and a haven of rest for many.

Long live beauty. In big and small ways.

A home for Satish

We plan to discharge Satish from the JSK care centre tomorrow. 15 days after he came in weighing 7.5 kgs as a 3 year old bag of bones.

A lot of loving care has gone into this dear little boy. A lot of loving care has been given to his mother and younger sister and older brother too.

Just 24 hours ago it seemed quite hopeless - his mother living in a fantasy world about what will happen next - but nothing really in store.

Yesterday our staff took her to look for housing. They walked up and down and looked at scores of places - and came back with nothing.

Then in the afternoon her sister came to visit. The first time a relative has come. Our staff talked with them and her sister agreed to look after Mrs. Langru. She said that there was a 'room' near her house and that she would pay the Rs. 1000 deposit and also pay the rent of Rs. 400 per month. It all sounded too good to be true.

The sister went ahead and paid the deposit. The keys are due tonight. Tomorrow the family goes there.

Our staff took Mrs. Langru to see the new place this morning. It is no heaven. The floor is packed earth - the walls are shanty-town plastic. But it is better than where they were. Mrs. Langru was sad tonight. The reality of the next step has sunk in. Satish is still sick - and needs constant attention if he is to survive. She will not be able to work for the near future at least.

While the story is far from over yet, we see such a massive change in just a 2 day period. Many prayers have been said for this little family. We are grateful for the hard work that our staff have given - both in the field and in the centre. The next steps are just as challenging.

Day by day, and with each passing moment,
Strength I find to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment,
I've no cause for worry or for fear.
He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure,
Gives unto each day what He deems best,
Lovingly its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Back on the street?

Satish - dear friends - is so very much better than before. His 'death skull' has almost dissappeared. He is eating. He sits up. He watched a video this evening.

His mother - however - remains trapped in misery. Her poverty is not just the destitution she is in - but a barrenness of the mind. Mrs. Langru insists that she can care for the 3 children - and that she knows what she is doing. Asked about her plans, she is vague.

Reality is this: Mrs. Langru believes her lover will care for her. She has convinced herself that he will swoop down and take her and look after her kids too. The fact that she has not seen the man in 3 months is beside the point. The fact that he is already married and with children is ignored - she feels he will leave his wife and care for her and her kids - picking them off the roadside and taking them to a better place. The fact that her son was within an inch of death just 2 weeks ago - under her 'care' - seems lost to her. The reality of the perilous situation she faces is to her just a mirage. Her roadside shack a ruin and the local people saying she cannot rebuild - Her face is hard and set.

We are now nearing the end of Mrs Langru's stay at the centre. Satish has survived. Its a sheer miracle. His mother doesn't seem to understand this.

In the next few days Satish and his mother and the two other kids who have been camping out at the centre will need to leave. The little boy who was no more than a feeble skeleton is back in the land of the living. But without the cooperation of his mother - the family will be back on the street.

At Jeevan Sahara, we are trying to contact Mrs Langru's relatives. Its tough going. All parties seem least interested in each other. We must persevere and try all we can though. Satish's life depends on it.

We just got the sad news that another small child with HIV died. Her mother had taken her - against our advice - and had gone to her native village in Yavatmal District. Someone from there came to Thane and told the neighbours. Mrs Langru seems to be moving on this track too. Hard heart - set on doing her own thing - come hell or high water.

Deep breath.

Lord have mercy upon us all. Its the very same for you and me. Our utter ingratitude for all that loving Father had done for us. Time and time again.

This, if at any time, is the time to love Mrs Langru - and try everything possible to help her see the light. For Satish's sake. For her own. For the love that our sweet Lord gives us while we are His enemies.

Daniel Award application deadline extension

This just in: for any one out there interested in submitting an application for the Daniel Award, the good folks who are organising this academic fellowship have extended the application deadline for another 10 days. The final date is now fixed on or before the 14th of August 2008.

Hyper space

The web is an amazing place. One evening our good friend Philip B can be spending a lovely time with Stefan and Neeru and Ashish - his trusty camera on hand - Phil can take a shot of the family can be taken at a night bazaar in Delhi.

The next day the photo makes its way over to us here in Thane. We ooh and aah at how big Ashish looks and how great his parents look too.

And that evening its put up on our little on-line diary. Where are you looking at this image we wonder?