Admission

We got back to Thane after the long train trip from Jharkhand (via Rourkela, Orissa) at 4 AM this morning.

We admitted a very sick man by noon.

Mr. Chandu is seriously ill. His TB does not seem to be responding and he is fighting for life. With Sheba back in town, our staff brought him to be admitted today. He is now at the Jeevan Sahara Kendra centre being cared for by our nurses.

Will Mr. Chandu survive? Even this night? We don't know. But we are going to try hard. And pray hard. To see if he can pull through.

In the great AIDS game - we believe that a person can only said to have been terminally ill - after the person died. Anything else means that there is still a fighting chance.

End game

The little girl with curly hair wears a powder blue shirt. She sits on her father's shoulders (or is it an older brother?) with a small smile on her face - her fingers in a V for victory sign.

Now we pan out and take in the other symbols. The checked keffiyeh shows up, as do the red-black-green-white colours associated with the Palastinian cause. Behind the girl - a smiling picture of Yasser Arafat - with a German statement of "our democratically elected President".

Then the shock.

The girl is wearing a head-band with some things written on it in Arabic script - and around her waist is tied some soft sausage like things. They look like oblong cotton wool sticks. And yet they are meant to signify something totally different - the sticks of dynamite or other explosives that are exploded around a person - by that person in a suicide bombing.

What does this little girl know about the grisly end that so many have trodden? Has she watched their testimonial videos, earnest faces denouncing others and urging more to join their ranks - before they blast themselves and as many bystanders as possible into eternity?

And what of the man who carries her. What does he plan to do with this girl. They are clearly in Europe. Will they go back to the promised land to carry out the grisly act?

How sad that when my children can read about Winnie the Pooh, and write essays on the Dodo, and when we can have wonderful people for dinner (as guests - not to eat them like Puddleglum and co. were about to be in The Silver Chair) - and yet here are girls who are being held aloft as little poster girls for destruction.

I read last year about a little 5-year old girl being seen in Britain wearing a tee-shirt saying 'Porn Star' on it. We mourn for this generation of little ones who have the crudeness of so-called 'adult' sexuality pressed down on them. With the little girl in the blue top and wearing the cuddly dynamite belt we see a similar overlaying of adult cruelty.

We knew that when we named our daughter 'Asha' that we were doing so prophetically - that there is so much need for 'hope' the longer our lives send their shadows across the paths we have trodden so far.

Today Asha and Enoch played with kittens. They read from books. They went with me on chores. They were polite to their elders and full of abandon in playing with a new friend. They heard about a group of builders who may be building in the national park - and promptly made a game of 'cops and builders' where the police locked up the builders - and escaping builders were recaptured by a king (the latter game carried out with gusto at a small lego mini-man scale).

Would that more kids be blessed like our two are being blessed. We may be living in an age of AIDS - we may be seeing destruction all around - but for our two we are not in the end-game as yet.

But where is the little girl in the blue top today?

Authority

The US Marines may be part of one of the most powerful fighting force on earth - but a single command can bring a plane full of them down to the ground.

It happened on Sunday morning. A friend of ours serves our country with our airforce. An unscheduled civilian flight entered Indian airspace. It was noticed that the flight had used a military call sign when it landed in the gulf country that it had recently taken off from - but was now using a civilian code. When our friend radioed the captain about who was on board the flight, the captain admitted that the passengers were US Marines.

It is not unlawful for civilian flights to carry soldiers over India. But they need to get permission from our ministry of external affairs and from the defence forces. The Americans had not. Our man had found it out. He asked them very politely to land. Hectic calls came in. US Embassy. US Defence attache. Our man held firm. He asked the plane to land immediately at Mumbai airport. "Our fighters are ready if you do not come in, sir" said our friend.

The plane landed.

Why? Because of the authority vested in our friend. He is no hot-shot, but a man who takes seriously what he does. And the issue is one of national sovreignity.

I was thinking of this when our friend came up to the church camp later in the day. His shift was over - now it was others who had to deal with angry Americans. A simple, wholesome man he laughed when he told about the hornets nest that had been stirred. A TV channel was there within 30 minutes of the incident.

A single command, and the plane came down.

Why? Because this man was speaking on behalf of a sizable force. His brief was crystal clear. He was totally confident of his actions. His decisive act was not done in anger or emotion. It was just the basic exercise of authority. Even if the passengers were soldiers from our only remaining super-power.

Just before Jesus was taken up into heaven He said an amazing thing: All authority in heaven and earth is given to me, therefore - go into all the world and make disciples...

Christ offers each one of His followers a mind-boggling thought. The authority of the all-powerful. And to whom does He give it - very simple fellows - like our friend - and like me.

How do we exercise this authority? With pride or with humility? Do we even know what our standing is - and what authority has been vested in us?

In transit

There once was a family who were very blessed - with an abundance of wonderful things to do.

In the middle of October this family plunged into a church family camp in Khandala - and emerged refreshed, unscathed and deeply challenged that we are 'the temple of the living God'!

After washing 4 loads (that's right - 4) of laundry (and folding all of that), they in a 3 day period in which they are hosting visitors to JSK, having a staff family over for dinner, organising the on-going work of home-care for people with HIV, preparing for the upcoming World AIDS Day programmes, writing the prayer bulletin, awaiting any day another staff family's second child-birth, and preparing for a 2.5 day Positive Friends Family Bible Camp (starting on Friday the 23rd) and then going for a 10 day trip to the mission hospital in Jharkhand where they previously worked.

And in the middle of all of that, their first-born has to write a 10 page report on the Dodo. What it looked like and what its habitat is. How it resembles ducks and geese. How and why it became extinct.

That first-born would be Asha.

That family would be the Thane-dwelling Eichers.

That time would be now.

We are in transit - but are blessed with a wonderful fund of peace and good humour. May it continue! God is good.

After a simply superb church camp we are gearing up for the next 2 big things - our 90 plus participant/facilitator JSK Positive Friends Family Bible Camp (starting Friday) and then the train-trek to Jharkhand. We leave on Sunday night - the same evening we return from the JSK camp. A highlight is coming back with a one-day stop in Rourkela, Orissa - where Sheba was born, brought up, baptised and married to me (by the same Elder who married her parents!).

We arrive back in Thane at 4 AM on Nov 3rd. Asha and Enoch's school bus will come to our home at 12.30 PM that day to take them to the first day of there new semester.

Deep breath.... and dive!

Daughters

1 boy. 5 girls. What a day.

We are blessed to have Jaya and Oliver's younger daughter Stuti staying with us while Jaya is admitted at Lok. Last night she was joined by her cousins Ruth (next to Enoch) and Nissi (front right). The fun was compounded with Dr. Marise's daughter Keya also joined us this morning.

Enoch was clearly out-numbered but took things very gamely. The day was filled with laugther, comments, games and activities. A project to make a play about Noah did not get completed - but lead to much fun.

I for one am exhausted. Hats off to all who care for more than 2 kids. Sheba and I really enjoy having the 4 girls and our boy - but my word - is it ever tiring (and similarly why does the fridge empty so fast?).

Sarita is no more, neither is Malcolm

Shanti called us last night. She had gone on her off time - a Sunday afternoon - to visit Sarita - a young girl with TB.

When she arrived at her house, Shanti found that Sarita had just died.

It was a shock - and yet sadly was not unexpected. The little girl had been brought to us 10 days ago by a church volunteer. Sarita had tuberculosis. One of her lungs was totally shut down. Another hardly working. She was HIV negative - but the TB had ravaged the beautiful breath-sacs that God had given her. She had apparently taken the full course of treatment and was sputum negative. The TB bacterium were dead - but not before they had destroyed her ability to breathe.

We took on Sarita's case with little hope of cure. But a little hope is still hope. Three years ago another little girl had been brought to us. She had suffered from TB meningitis and had lost the sight in one eye. The municipal hospital had sent her home to die. We were able to start her on treatment again - and she survived. Her parents asked whether she would ever see again. We had her evaluated by an opthalmologist who said it was impossible - the damage to her eye was too great. Amazingly, a few months later we found that this girl had even regained sight in the eye that the expert had written off!

In Sarita's case we did not see such a beautiful outcome. We had hoped that with love and care and encouragement to eat she may just be able to pull through. Our nursing staff started visiting on alternate days. We were able to encourage her and her parents. But she just didn't pull through. Her little lungs just couldn't cope any more and she passed away. Add one more to the 8000 fellow-citizens who died of Tuberculosis on Sunday.

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Malcolm's story is very different - but no less tragic. His mother called up one of our staff on Saturday to announce that he had died. A thin gaunt man, he had been abandonned by his wife - tired of the alcohol abuse and beatings that she got from him, well before we met him. Apart from a son who lived with him on and off - and his aged mother, Malcolm was alone. The many relatives in his locality were tired of caring for him. His repeated bouts of alcoholism did not gain him any sympathy or support.

Our staff visited Malcolm repeatedly. We helped him get admission at a hospice. He argued with the staff there and had to be discharged on their insistence. It was back to his mother again. The aging overweight lady was bent with sorrows - and her own sicknesses - as well as caring for her gaunt son. Her grandson was shunted between relatives.

We see real hope when people work to get better. Its hard, very hard, when our staff and volunteers love and serve - and then see patterns of self-destructive behaviour - which end up in self-destruct. HIV has claimed another person in Malcolm. Its heart-breaking to see the destruction that continues all around us - invisible to the shiny, bustling throngs all around us. In a time when many celebrate a festival of lights - one thin man has slipped away.

What of eternity? What manner of choice each one of us has in our hands, in our lives...

(all names are pseudonyms of course)

Vote for Banana!

Hooray for democracy! We have another election around the corner - tomorrow in fact. Our state legislative assembly - the Vidhan Sabha - gets a new round of leaders (or if the voters show patience with the current lot - the same old set).

Hats off to the election commission which gamely organises these events so regularly at National, State and Municipal levels. The current round have seen an army of 'government servants' (mainly teachers and the like) prepared and trained for their election duty (with holidays for the students of course).

Surpises are always possible. This year's national elections stunned the pundits with the voters placing their faith in Dr. Manmohan Singh and the Congress party (warts and all). The current elections are another toss-up between the current Congress-Nationalist Congress combine - and the saffron twins of the Shiv Sena and BJP.

Interestingly, though most parties choose their 'colours' these are variations on the saffron-white-green of the national flag (or was it that the national flag is a variation of the Congress party flag?). Some parties - like the ones that identify more with certain strands of political Hinduism jettison the other colours and keep the saffron. The Dalit focussed parties have long since taken blue as their colour (including the inevitable photos of Dr. Ambedkar wearing a blue suit), and so newer parties have also added blue to the saffron-and-green (read: Hindus and Muslims) combo.

Where is gets really interesting, though is in the choice of the party 'symbol'. Early in our democracy, the fathers of our nation decided that the illiterate masses should also have a right to exercise their franchise. This they have done regularly, even as our literacy levels is slowly inching upwards over the decades. But to help those who do not know - each national party is assigned a symbol which all of their candidates can use - and which is printed next to the candidates name on the election ballot.

Having an evocative symbol is of course a boon to a party. The relative merits of a bicycle (Samajwadi party) vs. a clock (Nationalist Congress party) is not evident at first blush. And what about the 'Three leaves' (Trinamool Congress) vs. the 'Elephant" (Bahujan Samaj Party). The Hammer & Sickle (our dear desi communists) is of course pretty obvious - but I could never understand why the Indian National Congress chose a 'hand' as their symbol. The BJP with its Lotus makes perfect sense - though allowing a party to use our national flower for its own symbol is also open to debate.

I understand that the election commission has in their wisdom allotted perhaps the ultimate symbol - the chair - to a local party where my parents live - the Uttarkhand Kranti Dal! All candidates ultimately vie for this: to sit in "the chair". The chair of power. The chair which puts you in control. My conversations with rickshaw drivers in recent days reflects both a disgust and a continuing fascination with the political process. People are almost resigned to the shenanigans of our elected leaders - yet fascinated by the process - and very interested in the outcomes.

But pity the poor independent candidate. Since so many of the 'good' symbols are taken up (hand, ladder, lion, elephant, lotus etc), what is left is distributed among the others - which are the many independent candidates. If you stand for elections, chances are you will be allotted a symbol like a drum, or a tea-cup, or a hat!

Take a look at the picture above. It is the top of a leaflet which was distributed at our appartment building, seeking our vote in favour of "Reporter Sabir Sherkhan." The gentleman in question has been handed the humble banana as his symbol. Vote for Banana! Don't slip up at this election! Vote for Banana! Bote for Vanana!