The case of the dissappearing mobile

It happened at the end of the day.

We were packing up to leave - after having hosted about 80 odd young ones for that day's Vacation Bible School.

One of the teachers was looking upset. Word got out quickly - her mobile phone was missing.

Where had it been? In her bag.

Now it was gone.

One of our young volunteers was calling the phone repeatedly using her own mobile. It kept ringing - no one was picking up.

I thought back to some years ago and the anger and frustration of knowing that someone in the packed local train compartment had taken my mobile. I asked people to call my number but no one did for some time. When a person finally got around to it - the phone was off.

And so there we were - with a missing mobile. My thoughts were not very charitable. Something along the lines of: "What happens when we organise things like the VBS for these kids - one of them flicks their teacher's phone."

Not knowing what to do else I moved away to pack up and head for home.

As I was in the empty hall - putting things in their bags I heard something faintly.

At first I thought someone had left a mobile in their bag. But there were no other bags other than the ones I was packing. Then I looked around in the room - nothing.

The faint mobile sound could still be heard.

I looked out the window at the neighbouring lot - where a huge building is being built.

Still the faint tune of a mobile ringing.

Then I looked down out the window - and in the rubbish which the school cleaners had been dumping out of this particular window - there nestled in all of that trash was the missing mobile!

A few minutes later it was back in the hands of the teacher.

But what stuck in my mind is how quickly my thoughts had turned to the accusation of theft. How quickly I was hard in my spirit and angry. How quickly I had swept away the possibility of anything else but a deliberate taking of the mobile phone.

And then the miraculous finding. There I was packing up next to the window. A minute later and I would be gone - the phone would stay outside in the trash - and we would all be convinced that one of our kids had swiped the dear thing.

In a universe where either everything makes sense - or nothing does - I definitely and completely throw my lot for the former.

Re-visage

We are in the middle of a week of Vacation Bible School - primarily for kids of families we are in touch with at JSK.

I was looking at the faces of two little boys this morning - and noticed something familiar. The eyes, the look... what was it?

Then I knew. I was looking at the face of their father.

He died about 3 years ago.

And here on the faces of his sons are his eyes. The way he used to look.

Of course the man I knew was at the end of his life. Ravaged. His eyes had their own hauntings.

Am I imagining it, or do I see the boy's eyes retain a small slice of their father's grief?

As I looked across the room I saw other familiar faces in miniature. Some kids whose parents are still alive and breathing - some whom the breath of life has departed from. Small reflections and impressions of parents who we know through the disease that they suffer from.

And how will these little faces shape up as they pile on the years?

Will they make similar choices as their parents did - or will they chart their lives into different waters?

Back again

"I am back in your hospital" she said quietly.

The lady has gone through so much. The HIV in her just does not seem to give up - and she is fighting a long-drawn out battle for her life.

We started her on TB treatment and on Anti-Retroviral Therapy.

Now she is severely jaundiced. Her liver just doesn't seem able to keep up. The medications need to be stopped, because the liver is where they are processed and enter the blood stream. A bad liver could mean death.

Earlier this week, this dear lady went to the government centre for her monthly visit to pick up her free medications.

The treating doctor wrote: "NAD" on her card.

No abnormalities detected.

Well - that is true at one level. The treating doctor did not detect the gross abnormality that this lady is very very sick. Her eyes were deep yellow. Her liver basically not functioning.

We had no option but to admit her and look after her while we stop her medications.

Credit to the government health folks - they copied exactly what Sheba suggested into this lady's card - and have stopped the TB and ART meds.

Now to see how she can move forward.

"I am back in your hospital" she said. I told her that we were glad she was with us. That she is very very special. We prayed that night.

Today she went home to continue her treatment there. Her dear elderly mother was looking after her - as well as a confident looking young woman - this lady's grown daughter. What a difference having a loving family makes!

A weekend to remember

Staff retreats are all about getting away.

Well we almost didn't get away (at least all of us) - and we almost didn't arrive.

Last Friday we boarded the Nagercoil express for Pune. One door was blocked so we all thronged into the other. The 20 odd of us from the JSK team and our families and sundry passengers going to Tamil Nadu. In the doorway someone had put big boxes.

Chaos. Shouting. Pushing. Babies crying. Us all trying to get in - knowing that the train would leave in less than 5 minutes.

I somehow got inside and opened an emergency window - which allowed us to bring in some of our boxes. The train started going - I saw Michael and Rahul still on the platform. They somehow pushed in.

Then my heart sank. Some 2o meters away Malini stood alone on the platform. She had not been able to get in. The train was moving away.

I looked up and pulled the emergency chain. Pulled and pulled.

The train stopped. I shouted for Malini to get in. She did. A minute later the train started up again. We were all on board. Tired and shaken.

Then when we got to Pune the heavens opened.

It poured delicious cool rain.

We were strung out in a small army of auto-rickshaws moving from the station to the Bible Centre. The rain lashed us with its coolness.

And then a crash.

A large branch had broken off a tree and fell to the ground. It just missed our autorickshaw - and fell in front of the next one which was following us. A close shave - literally!

We got to the centre shaken - and ready for the retreat.

JSK next generation!

Were we ever glad to be away together. For two and a half magical days we drunk deep from God's word thanks to Bro. Oliver Amana, ate excellent food, talked, laughed, slept, played, sang and prayed.

On Saturday we had challenging sessions by Bobby Zachariah and Chandrakant Wakankar. There is so much to learn - and it is a joy to get good stuff in our minds and hearts!

Next year we will win an Oscar! One of the plays on 'Talent Nite"

Our theme was 'being more like Jesus' - it was a wonderful time to reflect and see what God has done so far - and what He has in store for us as His children. The very thought of us becoming more like Him is mind-boggling.

With all the hustle and bustle of doing things we forget the most important parts of life. To listen. To be. To allow God to speak.

This weekend has been one to remember. It took some getting there - but we left with a lot in our hearts.

Heading out for an 'Emmaus Walk' on Sunday morning

Crime partner

Its been a long hot summer already - and we are not even out of April yet. 2 full months of heat simmer before us - and then the blessed rains are due.

One of our interns told us that his parents in Bhusaval, Maharashtra have seen temperatures of 47 deg. Celsius! I cannot even imagine how hot that is. Naveen tells me that his parents - and everyone else in the town stay indoors after 6 AM in the morning - and stay that way till 7.30 PM at night!

Yesterday our dear leftist friends called a "Bharat Bandh" to protest against an immanent price rise in petroleum products. This national strike went by without us noticing it at all. Only today's papers that mentioned it in passing. It seems to have been most successful in the two states where the Communists still have some rule - West Bengal and Kerala. The spectacle of the state government shutting down - and effectively keeping private citizens from travelling and doing their business would be comical if it were not so pathetically sad.

From being a stirring method of challenging oppression - the general strike has become one endless cycle 'protests' organised by the small political class of all hues - right, left and as most of our political parties are - hounding after a certain person or dynasty. The loser is the man on the street - who needs his or her daily wages to survive - and has to sit idle while the goons on motorcycles drive by making sure that shopkeepers have pulled down their shutters - and pelting the odd car or two that dares to venture out with stones.

The police? Well, they are here to ensure law and order - to an extent at least. Hence the classic shot above of our finest in khaki - whiling away their time reading newspapers - sitting in front of what must have been a shut movie theatre. Who is the real 'crime partner'? The lurid ladies on the poster? The political lads who have ground at least that part of the country shut? Our bureaucracy that cannot make a decent set of decisions? The constables on display?

And so we hunker down - to see if we can get through the next few weeks. As a family we have the blessed hope of 10 days of cool in Mussoorie looming like a mirage - but with the magical date of May 14th coming tantalisingly closer...

Room

The last Wednesday of the month. A time for people with HIV to meet together. To talk and be encouraged. To pray and see how to move forward.

Kids come too. A few have HIV. Most have come with their parents. We usually have a small separate programme for them.

Asha and Enoch are usually at school in the afternoons and so don't normally take part in our last-Wednesday meetings. But today they were there.

Seema asked the children what they wanted. What they needed.

Asha couldn't really think about what she needed. She has everything. Finally she said 'a bicycle'.

The other kids said different things.

Two children from different families said that they wanted 'a room'.

Asha thought they wanted a room of their own.

They did not.

To these kids - 'room' means a 'home.'

Their parents are being asked to vacate the little 10 x 8 room they share as their family dwelling. Since they do not own (most people do not) - they are at the mercy of the 'room owner.' And the next step is uncertain. Hence prayers are being asked for.

words spoken in anger

Sheba overheard a portion of an argument today at the clinic:

He:
I am not going to give any money for this man. When I was in jail for 5 years no one came and even visited me. Now I have a proper job as a bus conductor and all I earn is Rs. 250 per day. There is no way we are going to help out.

She:
He is your brother. My family will only help me out - they will not pay for my husband. You are his brother...

The man that they were talking about lay half-conscious. The first speaker is the brother of the dying man. The second is the wife of the man dying. He was discharged this evening for palliative care at home. About 15 different relatives came to the centre to decide what to do. It was finally decided to hire an ambulance and take him back to his village in Karnataka for his last days. It will cost about Rs. 22,000/- for the trip. Rs. 10 per km is the going rate. 1100 kms from Thane to their place. Then the trip back for the empty ambulance.

The lives our friends live are so real, and so raw. It makes what we read in the papers seem like such foolish froth.