The beautiful game

On Friday a whistle will blow in Africa. A ball will be kicked by one player to another. Then 22 brightly clothed men will swarm around it for the next 90 minutes. Amidst what promises to be a raucous roar of plastic horns and various other noise-makers, the South African football team will take on Mexico to start the FIFA World Cup 2010.

It all starts with the simplicity of a ball. A round inflated object, kicked with skill and finesse, forms the singular focus of the teams.

The German photographer Jens Heilmann has photographed a match ball from each world cup tournament so far. He tracked down the balls and photographed them against a black background with diffuse lighting to let their shape and texture and scuffs from the game they were used in speak.


I must confess a totally irrational approach to the world cup. My first memories of being hooked were breathlessly reading about the 1982 final when Italy beat Germany in Spain thanks to a man called Paoli Rossi. Front page news on the very black and white Times of India. Having a German mother - and no access to TV - and actually not much exposure to football - all I could do was imagine it in my head.

In later years I managed to get some eyeball time in - with the 1986 tournament memorably watched in great detail at odd hours over the summer holidays in Mussoorie. And so on - usually at odd hours the TV showing breathtaking flowing moves by a new crop of marvels every four years. And at the end one team kissing the cup.

My personal world cup highlight was watching the pre-quarterfinals in Boston in 1994 when Nigeria took on Italy. We were in raptures when Nigeria opened the scoring with a beautiful set of moves - only to see Roberto Baggio bring Italy back with an equaliser in the 89th minute and then take Italy to the next level with a penalty overtime. The beauty and the agony of the game. And to actually be there in the stands - waving my Indian flag (no Nigerian one handy - and no hope that India will reach this level in my life-time at least). Too good.

Another thing I learned from the US world cup. American commentators are horribly boring as they drown you in statistics. We switched over to the Spanish commentators - and though we did not understand a thing. You have to hear the excitement they expressed in their bubbling words every time some touched a ball. And should the ball go through the posts - then we hear the amazing GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!

So here we go again. One month of football. How many slices of green will I be able to get in? I don't know since we don't have a TV. But there are always our sports-loving neighbours (all three other flats on our floor have young men who love the beautiful game).

The whistle will blow. The sweat will flow. The vuvuzelas will blow. The beautiful game will show. Ole!

Heera

She married young.

A few years later she got a 'talaq' - a divorce.

No kids.

Last year her ex-husband died.

For the last few months she has been sick.

Yesterday she was in the clinic with her father, brother and sister.

She has tested HIV positive.

She found out that her ex-husband had died of AIDS.

Now she probably has TB as well.

She found out about Jeevan Sahara Kendra from a family in her community. They had also experienced death in their home.

Her brother wants to know if she can be remarried.

No easy answers.

We will work one step at a time.

First to help her understand some of what is going on.

To get her onto the right meds - appropriate for how far the disease has affected her immunity.

To listen and help her work through the next steps in her life.

To talk with her family in a safe space.

No easy answers.

No buttons that can be pushed to see instant happiness pouring out.

And yet what an honour and privilege to work along side this young woman and her family.

Heera (diamond in Hindi) is not her real name.

I chose the pseudonym to express a small fraction of her value.

Trees of Landour, Mussoorie

Trees,
silent sentinels
of life on earth.
- Ashrujit Bhattacharjee

Walking in Landour brings much joy and lots of old friends.

The very oldest ones are the magnificent trees that grace this hillside. Here is a collection of some of the stalwarts.

The magnificent deodar (Cedrus deodara) is found along the ridge and the north-facing slopes. These beauties are just below Elcott Lodge, where the path starts descending towards Fairy Glen and Jabbarkhet.

This is view of some venerable deodars are near the "Pepper Pot cave" - up from the ridge of the 'Seven Sisters'. One of the best ways of enjoying a tree is lying on the ground below it and resting from having hiked there (and having a picnic lunch in your belly).

Among the broadleaf trees - the handsome Indian Chestnut tree (Aesculus indica also called Indian Horse Chestnut) forms an excellent counterfoil to the tall deodars. I particularly love the pale green that the chestnut adds to the solemn dark greens of the deodars and oaks.

The beautiful palmate leaves of the chestnut. They also have handsome spikes of flowers that emerge - giving the whole tree a beautiful decorative feel.

By far the most common tree in Landour is the sturdy Himalayan Oak (Quercus leucotricophora). It blankets the south-facing slopes of Landour all the way down to Pari Tibba and below, and is found on the northern sides as well. This oak is commonly called 'banj oak' and forms the bulk of the Woodstock forests. We have a lovely stand on the acre of land that surrounds Shanti Kunj - with the picture above being some of them.

At lower elevations the banj oak fades into stands of Chir pine (Pinus roxburghi). On some of the mountain spurs you can see the chir pines on the ridges (drier) with the banj oaks in the ravines (wetter).

The leaves of the banj are a dull green on top, but strikingly white beneath. When the wind blows through them whole trees can turn silver as the leaves skitter in the breeze. I personally like the golden setting sun best on the banj - it gives the mossy dark stems and the silvery leaves a wonderful aura.

Banj oaks are not just for decoration. They form a vital part of the forest human dynamics of the hills.

This banj oak has been 'lopped' by village women for fodder. The leaves are a major source of food for their cattle. It doesn't look very pretty - but given the right amount of lopping - this 'pole shaped' tree actually is quite efficient in producing leaves - for cattle of course...

A big part of my studies in forestry got a push from a year I spent with my parents in 1989-90 when I volunteered with a local development group which was studying this issue. It was one of the first times that I saw science being used in a rural setting and was a good push towards the social forestry focus I took. A good friend of mine from the Yale School of Forestry and Environmental Studies is the amazing Rajesh Thadani. Rajesh went on to get a doctorate in Forestry and is an expert in oak regeneration (see this article for example).

Mussoorie does not have a lot of wild life (other than perhaps the inevitable Woodstock student - but that is a different genre altogether). We do have the occasional langur. These ghostly grey monkeys are a beauty to see - especially when they swing from oak to oak - or sit pensively on the branch of a deodar.

Mussoorie has a beautiful red flowering tree - the Rhododendron (Rhododendron arboretum). The flowers usually come out in winter - so we did not see many during our visit this summer - other than the odd final bloom hanging on in trees tucked in cold spots on the north-facing slopes of Landour.


A favourite tree for me is the maple (Acer spp. probably caesium). The placed where I see it are towards bottom of the path past Fairy Glen - and also in the Oakville Estate (which is where the above picture was taken).

Most of the Himalayan cypresses (Cupressus torulosa) we see are relatively small since they are a favourite species for the forest department to plant. There are, however, a few giants on the path that goes down past Fairy Glen.

Finally a short look at the Himalayan fir:


These firs are normally only found in very cold parts of the hill. These beautiful Himalayan fir (Abies pindrow) were found in all age groups - from large giants down to small seedlings near Fairy Glen.

Our short look at some of the trees of Landour is over. It should be noted that almost all of these pictures were taken in land owned by Woodstock School. The school properties are a rich treasure of biodiversity - and a blessing to the hillside.

I remember reading a volume of Dietrich Brandis' (the founder of the Indian Forest Service) Trees of India in the Woodstock School library. It is a great blessing that their trees are not just illustrations in a musty old book from colonial days - but living, breathing, beauty givers that are enjoyed across generations.

In the middle of the night the power went off. Inward groan and getting ready for the hot mugginess to descend.

Instead - oh wonders! - the sound of rain-drops! A light rain and the faintest tickle of a cool breeze grace our concrete world.

The next day - looking at the crisp view Asha says: "The sky has washed its face!"

Its a girl!

Another reason why we are here in Thane:

Mr. and Mrs. Shristhi had their second child yesterday. Its a girl!

We have seen the amazing way that Mr. Shristhi has been living his life with dignity as a man with HIV. It was wonderful to see their first child come into this world and bring so much light to a set of parents who are living with the disease.

Now we have the joy of seeing a second kid!

Yesterday when Mrs. Shristhi was admitted into hospital she asked for one of the JSK staff to come with her. Her son had burned his hand on some milk recently and still needed care. One of our nurses went - and was helping the family when the new child was born.

We are so glad that our government gives free ART to people with HIV. We are so glad that mothers are tested for HIV as part of their antenatal care - and are given medication that reduces the risk of transmission to their children.

We are also so glad that we have a local Sunday school where the children have saved money all last year - and have donated it to Jeevan Sahara to be able to help mothers like Mrs. Shrishti afford infant formula. This means that they child will not have to be exposed to the HIV in her milk. We have seen how much this helped Mr. and Mrs. Shrishti with their first child.

We are grateful for our JSK staff who regularly meet with this dear family to encourage them. This family has gone through some real challenges - and still face multiple issues - but they are moving forward.

Now we celebrate a new life - and another new hope for this family.

Life worth living.

Mala's story

In the middle of a series of musings on Mussoorie - a reminder of why we are in Thane in the first place.

We got to now Mala (not her real name of course) a few years ago. She and her husband were HIV positive. When we met her she was very sick. Her immunity was quite low with her CD4 cell level dipping down in the 20s. Her husband drowned his sorrows in drink. Things were pathetic.

At one camp that we helped facilitate for their children in Igatpuri - Mala's husband showed up and took the children away half-way through. They fought and were estranged for some time with him taking the children to his village.

After some time they reconciled to a certain extent, but decided to leave Thane and go to another city in Maharashtra - closer to their ancestral home.

We lost touch with the family. Almost.

About a year ago Mala showed up with a terrible abcess in her left hip. It was inflamed and needed surgery. She went back to her town, and her husband managed to get a surgeon to agree for surgery. Mala was not asked about her HIV status - and did not tell.

When Mala was posted for surgery and when the anesthesia started - she was asked if she was taking any medications. In the fog of that time she replied that she was taking Anti-retrovirals - the medication that keeps the HIV levels low. The surgeon was outraged. He did go ahead with the surgery and drained her wound, but spoke many bitter words and immediately discharged her with a pipe to drain out any further fluid.

The surgery put the family back by the sum of Rs. 10,000/-.

After almost a year the wound had finally healed.

Mala's husband then died.

Barely a month later she discovered that she had an abcess on the other hip.

Newly widowed, confused, impoverished. Mala despaired for life. She did not know what to do.

Mala came back to Thane where her mother lives. She came to the Jeevan Sahara Kendra last week while we were in Mussoorie. She showed her new abcess. It was huge. Surgery to drain it was the only hope.

Mala prayed. She said to Jesus that 'I have no other hope - please help me.'

On Sunday something happened.

The whole abcess broke open and all the months of pus inside drained out. Everything.

Mala came to the clinic today to show Sheba. Sheba had heard she was coming and dreaded meeting her - remembering what she had seen the last time.

But this time was different.

The whole area was clean. It was as if a master surgeon had did his work. A tiny bit of pus was left which was easily cleaned and dressed. The wound was clear and clean. The Master Surgeon had indeed done His work.

Mala was so grateful for what has happened.

This is not the solution to all her problems. She still has many deep and grave challenges ahead. But this brave woman has experienced an amazing breakthrough in her time of deep need.

It is such a great honour to work among our friends with HIV.

Holiday reading

OK holidays are over. Back to 'real life'. But what a lovely trove of books were devoured. Asha and Enoch and Sheba were all with head in book for much of the time. Yours truly followed suit. I was able to finish all on my original list and add a few more.

Mystery of the Disappearing Cat - Enid Blyton
The Runaway - Patricia St. John
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
North! or be Eaten - Andrew Peterson

Living the Resurrection - Eugene Peterson
To Sir, With Love - E.R. Braithwaite
Gilead - Marilynne Robinson
Fredrick Booth-Tucker: William Booth's First Gentleman - Harry Williams
God for All, God for Me: Gandhiji's Religious Dualism - A.J. Anandan

Plus the ever-green Tintin books: Destination Moon, The Calculus Affair, The Secret of the Unicorn, Red Rackham's Treasure, The Crab with the Golden Claws, The Cigars of Pharaoh, Tintin and the Picaros

And back issues of Tehelka.

So how do the books stack up?

Of the kids books the Enid Blyton took me back to the idyllic world of Bets and Fatty and Mr. Goon of the Five Finder-outers and dog fame. I have devoured many a Blyton tome (like the next gen Eichers do these days) but I found my return to her world bordering on the bland. She has an ear for plot - but there is not much meat.

Patricia St.John's exploration of the Jesus story told from the perspective of a Phoenician fisher-boy with a demon-tormented sister gripped me. There was something very fresh in The Runaway about the way the boy meets people whose lives were changed - something compelling that kept me riveted.

Roald Dahl was read with Enoch on the train back. The read was good and the pages kept turning - but I actually had a sense of nausea at his world at one point. Its hard to create wonder that sticks. What struck me was how much of a God-figure Dahl has Willy Wonka as - and finally how thin this all powerful maker ends up. Wonka is able (in Dahl's world) to create the most fantastic confectionery creations (all for sale - and totally against the laws of thermodynamics to say nothing of economics). But Wonka at the end is unable to make something like himself. He is lonely and seeks an heir. The story has him weed out 4 horrible kids and their parents - to end up with young Charlie Bucket and his aged but sprightly grand-dad. And then they are taken up into the sky.

The book of the holidays (in the younger Eicher division) goes to North! or be Eaten. Written by songster Andrew Peterson, the book is the second in the Wingfeather saga. As a fantasy it took me some time to warm to it. I found some of the humour purile. But. it. has. what. it. takes. Beneath the surface is a strong story. A pulse that starts slow but sucks you in. A dark world that yearns for something better. A cast of characters - that grow as the stories unwind. Plenty of hairy situations - and mingled in with everything a sweet longing for truth and beauty.

We had read the earlier book At the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness a few months ago - and knew that we would have to read this on a holiday - since once we start the book cannot be put down. North! or be Eaten was all that and more. It ended with a breath-taking set of events that frames everything that has happened till now with wonder.

And now we have a problem. The next book hasn't been written yet. The website says it could be a 5 book series. Or it could be 3. The Eichers don't mind either. We will wait. And read the next book when Peterson is able to pen it. Its not often that we get the opportunity to experience a story - 'as it is written.'

OK

Now to touch the other books.

Living the Resurrection by Eugene Peterson deserves a short review on its own. Suffice it to say that the thoughts presented by this Peterson have been worming their way into me. I very much want to see what he calls "spiritual formation by resurrection' taking place in my life. There is much hope!

To Sir, With Love by E.R. Braithwaite stumped me at first. I read it as a memoir - rather than a novel based on the author's experiences. But having said that I quickly entered the world of a school in post-war Britain where the West Indian Braithwaite is given a job at a school in a dilapidated part of London. The story rung true at a number of levels:

1. Braithwaite's challenges of being taken seriously as a teacher and scholar beyond the novelty (at that time) of a black man teaching.
2. The challenges of dealing with hostile / indifferent students whose lives are a lived out mess - and where so little structure and hope was present.
3. The joy of seeing the students shape and mature and make something out of their lives - as well as at the same time the gradual realisation of the value of each one and the real challenges they faced.

As a novel, I don't think I have come across one recently which has spurred me as much as
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson to consider the sum of a single life. Written in what amounts to a stream-of-consciousness, the novel explores the life of a rural pastor in 1950s America. The book paints an at times bleak and unsparing portrait of this man and the complex inheritance of faith and doubts that he wrestles with. It also is suffused with the gritty beauty that comes from first hand living. Strangely, though the book is very different, I am drawn to remember Tolstoy's The Resurrection with its sorrow but hope theme (and is the novel by the Russian author which is closest to my heart).

Finally - two histories.

Fredrick Booth-Tucker: William Booth's First Gentleman by Harry Williams is a swash-buckling biography of the first Salvation Army leader in India. The scion of a family of indo-anglians, Booth Tucker (full name: Frederick St George de Lautour Tucker) was born in Bihar and joined the ICS, before resigning and taking orders in the Salvation Army. His radical lifestyle and love for Jesus alienated most of his family and much of the British establishment (he was interned repeatedly in the first few months of his work in Bombay) - but his simplicity and focus brought rich dividends. I came away with the inevitable question - what is the sum of my own life? Encouragingly, Harry Williams sketches out Booth Tucker's life not as a perfect saint (as some have done for Mother Theresa for example), but rather as a man passionate to live his life to the fullest extent possible. The accent being on the 'possible.' There is much to learn from seeing the lives and faith of real people.

The last book that I read was a slim volume called God for All, God for Me: Gandhiji's Religious Dualism by a retired IPS officer A.J. Anandan. So much has been written on Gandhiji. Just las week Khushwant Singh reviewed a recent book Naked Ambition in Outlook. So few seem to be genuinely affected by Gandhi's thoughts these days. This is why I found Anandan's look thought provoking. He posits that beneath the syncretistic 'public religion' of Gandhi as the statesman and great leader of our country - lies a deeper and simpler personal religion. This personal religion (the author identifies it with Gandhi's childhood faith) is at odds with the often flowery and ecumenical / interfaith statements that Gandhi made over the years. It confirmed for me the reason for Gandhi's consistent opposition to the core issue of Christian missionaries - his strong opposition to conversion. A close look at Gandhi shows that his opinions are quite similar to those of other leaders usually identified as being in the ranks of the Hindu Mahasabha and other groups that are usually not associated with Gandhiji (esp. after one of the group members - Godse - assassinated Gandhi). The author picks out a subtle but constant denigration of the missionary enterprise - which is very present in today's discourse. What surprised me was seeing how much Gandhi has contributed to what is now the party line almost across the board: "conversion is very bad. If it has happened - then surely it must have been done by force / allurements. etc."

So there we have it. Another set of books devoured. More thoughts to mull through. More lives to consider. Books are magical companions. Stretching across time and imagination, they touch us deeply. We continue in an ongoing open conversation with the authors - and their characters - and our thoughts and lives that we meet in the pages of books.