Talented class-mates

Woodstock School occupied only 700 odd days of my educational career - but the impact it had on me was far larger than the now 1/20th of my life that I spent there.

The 54 of us who stood starry-eyed on the stage of Parker Hall on the 25th of June 1987 to receive our diplomas and step out into a world of adulthood are now scattered around the world.

Each one has - and is - making a mark somewhere on this fine globe.

Some - like Merryn Glover - have turned to their prodigious skills to writing. Others - like Sundeep Gupta are public health experts in Uganda with the CDC. Others have taken to the visual arts - like Davina Stephens who shows in Australia, France, Bali and Goa (among other places). The list goes on.

Today a note came from Christabel Khiangte Corazza with a clip of her latest - a gospel song she wrote and sings along with the Carolina Voices of Faith:



Last week we were blessed with a visit by the evergreen Anand Sinha.

From his facebook page it seems the man spends most of his life on the seat of a bicycle - traveling round the forgotten fields outside Gurgaon.

In reality the man is a head-honcho for Abt Associates in India. Slipping off his tie apologetically after arriving from a business meeting with folks from JK industries in Thane, Anand showed up as large as life - and as bald as ever - making me look almost hairy in comparison:

The (now) bald half of the infamous 'Pundits' reunited!

In the all-too short 2 hours that we squeezed in before it was off to the airport for Mr. A - we caught up on some rather large changes in his and Ratna's life. Biggest one being the smallest - their wonderful daughter Medha who adopted them just over a year ago. Life changed from a twosome to a threesome pretty rapidly.

Anand made the impatient taxi-wallah wait so that he could see our happy 2 come home from school! With Enoch's second name being "Anand" (named after the very same one) we had to have our Anand and his namesake together in a shot!

Just a few minutes before Anand had been regaling us with stories about his interaction with the head of India's Government Anti-Tuberculosis programme. We drank chai together and marvelled at the roads we have taken.


And so it goes. We are so privileged to know so many remarkable people - and the crop of 87 from Woodstock School ranks up there. Hats of the the happy "chaotics" - wherever they are...

Night watch

The little boy was crying. He is 11 months old. He weighs hardly 6 kgs. Severely malnourished. Severe dysentry. The pungent smell of his leaky bottom pervaded the room.

I had walked into the JSK centre at the end of a working day. Sheba was there praying with the nurses and little Bablu (all names changed of course). Mohan - Bablu's father - was with him. Sarita, his mother, had gone back to the tiny room they stay in to be with the other three children.

Bablu's parents are both HIV positive. One of his older siblings is positive too. It is too early to test the boy (we will wait till another 7 months before we can be sure that any antibodies for HIV are really his own). But Bablu was clearly sick. Very sick.

We came back later at 10.30 pm. We had been to a prayer meeting and my friend Jolly and I dropped Sheba off at the centre to see how Bablu was getting on. When Jolly tried to start the car again it didn't. The two of us spent another 20 mins outside trying to get it going - finally a friendly mechanic helped us start it up and with a vroom Jolly was gone.

Sheba had still not come out - so I walked back into the centre. The child was crying - Sashmita - one of our nurses was holding little Bablu. I think his mother was cleaning some of his clothes. When Sarita took Bablu into her arms again he calmed down.

Sheba was worried. "The boy is very sick" she told me. High fever. Frequent passing of stools. Very undernourished. We prayed with the family again and walked home in the night to our children (who were sleeping with Agnes - Sheba's cousin who has just joined us).

It was a tossy-turning kind of night (thanks to Enoch practicing judo on me in his sleep) and in the morning we were groggy. But the good news we got when Sheba called up Sashmita at the centre was this: Bablu's fever has gone - and he did not pass stool again all night after we left.

Small miracles.

What a privilege to serve this family and be part of their lives at this very difficult time.

Blood lust

The front page of today's Indian Express showed a horrific set of pictures. Images from a video of what seems to be the killing of naked men and women in the final stages of the elimination of the LTTE in Sri Lanka.

The accompanying article says that comments heard on the video indicate sexual abuse had taken place before the triggers were pulled. The video - apparently shot by one of the participants - lingers over the naked bodies. In one portion another hand can be seen capturing the scene using a mobile phone.

The cruelty that we as the human race mete out on each other. Where else has this scene been played out? A quick list that forms in my head include the killing fields of Cambodia, the dirty war in Argentina, the clusters of massacres in the Balkans, the slaughters in Rwanda... and these are all during my life-time, to speak nothing of the long line of incidents that keep being done along the long bloody trail of our historic inhumanity.

During this week I have a task at hand. To prepare a talk on one of the names of Jesus Christ - namely "Immanuel - God with us." Christians usually come to this name around the time they celebrate the birth of Christ. Its usually thought of in a sweet and lovely way. My own daily reading of the Bible had me covering the events of Jesus' execution.

In my revulsion and horror at the pictures from Sri Lanka - heightened by the knowledge of the sexual abuse that was carried out along with the murders - my cry was 'God, where are you at this time?' There is no pat answer - but there is one of flesh and blood. This is where my current Bible reading offered some insights.

The nakedness of those corpses was experienced by the naked corpse that hung from a Roman cross in AD 29. The abuse by the one who knew no sin - and yet was executed in the most degrading manner of the day. They stripped him of his garments, hurled abuse at him, marred him beyond recognition, yet tried to keep him alive so that he would experience the pain. Soldiers have over the centuries excelled in rape, torture and killing. The professionals who carried out the execution of Jesus of Nazareth would have taken pictures with their mobiles if those were available in those days. Perhaps to show their colleagues in the barracks later, perhaps for their own blood lust.

But the indescribable was experienced by He who flung stars into space. I can only imagine - in the most superficial way - the horror and pain those men and women went through in that nameless video. Jesus has experienced the degradation, the tearing of flesh, the unamable shaming in his own body, in his own soul and spirit. He remains true to His name - Immanuel - the God who is with us - even in the most unspeakable situations - because He himself has gone through them.

One difference to the men and women in Sri Lanka is that Jesus' death was public. It was witnessed by his enemies - who participated in further hurling insults and abuse at him - and at least some of his friends. We are told especially that at a distance women looked on. Mary Magdalen, Mary his mother, Mary Clopas (possibly his aunt) and others. What went through the minds of those who loved Him as they saw Him being tortured to death? What went through Christ's pain-scarred mind as He glimpsed His loved ones looking on from the distance?

As horrific as the account of Christ's execution is (and most of the Gospel accounts use very sober language when I would have gone into the gore had I been there) the fact of the matter is that they do not end with Jesus' broken body being brought down and buried in the tomb. The structure of Scripture takes us further - to His victory over death and repeated appearances before his followers.

And scripture also takes us forward into uncharted territory for us as humanity. A time when all will be called into account. A time when the ultimate war-crimes tribunal will take place. Where every deed is detailed, every hidden act is brought to light, when true justice will be meted out - once and for all.

Whoever pulled the triggers in the murders of the naked men and women in Sri Lanka, whoever used their bodies to rape and sexually abuse those about to die, whoever recorded the scenes for their further blood lust - all will be called to account. There can be no other way. The Bible says that the dead, great and small will be standing before the great white throne of judement - and books will be opened (Rev. 20.11-15). No dodgy FIRs, no hazy statements - just the facts - whatever they were in those hazy jungle days. And the eternal consequences for those who have not repented of what they have done.

Cure for melancholy

Martin Luther went through many bouts of what we call depression. One of his favourite ways to 'get out' was to sing.

A quote the just finished book about this robust man:

I would add another. Looking into the gorgeous smile of someone you love.

Like little Shofar for example.


He may be half-a-world away from us - there in Phoenix AZ, but my does that smile ever warm the cockles of our heart.

Blues? Where are you?

AIDS Day musings

Another 1st of December.

The sun came up on a mildly winter morning in Thane. Before the morning traffic got underway, students turned out for a marching rally - organised by the government HIV unit - wearing their red ribbons.

Our JSK staff has been out on the streets - meeting people - talking about HIV testing - giving information and on the spot counselling.

Its afternoon now, and a portion of the JSK team is now moving towards Dombivili where the District AIDS Prevention and Control Unit is organising a special meeting for young people. We will be running an information and counselling stall there - and meeting with youth one-on-one.

In the evening we are holding a small prayer meeting at the JSK centre.

All of this - while the earth continues its slow spin around itself. For 24 hours the world commemorates World AIDS Day. The 33 million brothers and sisters of ours who are living with the disease have the virus in them the other 364 days of the year too.

Its easy to get discouraged. Its easy to tune out. To move along with the many other things of life. What good is what we are doing anyway? And who really cares?

The government is trumpeting the figures that the rates of new infections of HIV in India are halved from 8 years ago. Any reduction in the numbers of people getting HIV is of course tremendous news. We are still far from being out of the woods however. At Jeevan Sahara Kendra we see the damage that is being done through HIV. Each day we meet the wounded from the silent bombs that keep going off in our midst - silent because of the fear of disclosure - and of rejection. A fear so deep that many many die even though treatment options are now available.

The challenge for us in India is not to let go of the efforts at this point! Though the new figures are not even a month old we now have statements like this:

[BrihanMumbai Municipal Corporation] Standing committee chairman Rahul Shewale said, “The AIDS epidemic has been controlled to a great extent while the number of cancer cases, particularly among women, are rising. The BMC is determined to see that the project passes through.”

The context is a proposal by the Municipal Corporation of Mumbai (BMC) to build a cancer hospital on a site currently housing the Mumbai and State AIDS control societies.

Besides apathy - we also have plenty of down-right greed. The tribe of quack-doctors shows no sign of abating. They are happy to announce 'cures' (which are never free), but are never around when the person with HIV finally dies. The medical fraternity still remains largely indifferent if not hostile to peopel with HIV. Two months ago we met a lady who had been in labour-pains and was sent away from a private hospital where she. Sadly, is even our local govt. ART centre is accused of asking for bribes for treatment.

So how do we move forward?

Well, we do it by taking a deep breath and thanking God for letting any of us see today. We move forward by reminding ourselves of real people in whose lives a massive change has taken place.

We remind ourselves of people like Mr. Sam who joined our JSK staff members for this morning's outreach on World AIDS Day. Mr. Sam has had HIV for some years and was in such a debilitated state that he could not walk. But today he is walking on the streets telling others about HIV. Today he looks after his family with such amazing love. Today he radiates the simple joy he has found in Jesus in a way that humbles.

We thank God that we live in a country where Anti-Retroviral medications are free from the government. We now have over 100 of our Positive Friends taking ART - and what a difference it makes.

We are humbled by the quiet saints who are helping out in big and small ways. Some who whisper prayers each day for our dear friends with HIV. Others who come along and visit people in their homes. Still others who quietly support widows with house-rents and children's educational fees.

The list goes on. We move forward because a small but real number of God's people love.

Oh that we would see more. And that HIV/AIDS would only appear in our children's history books - rather than in the flesh-and-blood lives of our brothers and sisters!

Mr. Aur-kya?

Asha and Enoch have a name for our friendly shop-keeper. They call him Mr. 'Aur-kya' - since no matter how much you buy from him - he inevitably asks 'aur kya?' (what else? i.e. do you want anything else?).

The shop is a family affair. Our dear man shows up at just after 7 am - and the shop is open to at least 11 PM every night. The family consists of his wife - a lady who clearly has problems with obesity - and 3 (or is it 4?) sons who seem to span the ages of 13 to about 23 or so. The appartment they live in as a family is on the ground floor - on the other side of the building.

The other day I asked him about where he has from. "Rajasthan" he said - and it clicked. Here is another of the amazing trading families. They are called Marwaris - since many are from the Marwar area of Rajasthan - but then there are others too - Gujarathi families and trading clans that are not only present all over India - but have colonised large areas in Africa (think trading outposts like the ones I found in deepest Uganda) and the United States (think 7-Eleven kind of convenience stores and motels).

While visiting my brother in Africa a dozen years ago I was amazed to see these families running shops in remote areas of the country. A small sociological study by a Ugandan academic that I read tried to make sense out of why these families did so well financially - and why the other people groups of native Ugandans did not seem to be moving up economically. The difference seemed to lie in how wealth was used. The 'Indians' as these trading families are called - saved religiously, kept a low profile, lived frugally - and ploughed their money back into their business - and occaionally to giving loans to help other family members get off their feet. The 'locals' (I forget the term used) had a different story to tell. The 'big man' who has made wealth suddenly finds himself called to a patron of many - relatives start sprouting up and making their home in his shelter. Money is meant to be used liberally on others - and on prestige items like the big car. Not for nothing are these nouveaux riches called 'Wa-benzi' since the Mercedes Benz still has the reputation of being the car that matters.

So why did our Indian brethren in Africa do so well and not here in the home land? I thought - and then it struck me - they are doing plenty well here too! The trading family is alive and well. We have one who live in our appartment and run that shop in the ground floor. Hailing from the bleak and barren desert landscape they have migrated far and wide - and take their flair and hard work for business with them wherever they go. While I was in Manipur for 7 months - my local host family occassionally took pity on me and my craving for chappatis. Since my hosts, the Tusing home, were a strictly rice-every-meal home (par for the course in Churachandpur town), they turned to the local Marwari family and requested them to occassionally make rotis for me.

Reality is that since our trading community families look more or less like everyone else - their presence does not strike us as strongly as the sole 'Indian' in a rural African community does. But then I remembered the 'jokes' that attributed stinginess etc. to the Marwari community. I realised that there was more than just the surface ethnic-leg-pulling going on - that there were real senses of envy and greviences by local communities even here about the shop-keepers. There is money to be made selling to the poor - but few smiles are given to the shop-keepers by those who are buying.

As I talked to our shop-keeper friend - I asked him how often he goes back to his native place. Once a year - came the reply. But what about the shop? I asked. I have to trust my family to take care of it - he says.

I have never seen the shop closed. Not for a holiday. Not for nothing. Ok - if there is a violent 'bandh' I have seen the shutters go down - but never for too long. By evening the shop is bustling with customers again. 7 AM to 11 PM. 365 days a year. Every one pitching in.

"Aur kya?"

Mumbai AIDS Sunday

Its that time of year again.

No - I am not talking about Christmas (which we gratefully celebrate as a family - but usually only for a day or two).

I am talking about World AIDS Day which is commemorated on December 1st.

The papers are breathless with the news that new HIV infections in India are down by 50% from before. The Indian Express article puts it this way:

In another indication that India has managed to contain its HIV/AIDS problem, the latest report by UNAIDS says the number of new cases annually has shown a 50 per cent fall from eight years ago. In 2009, 1.2 lakh people acquired the infection, which is half of the 2.4 lakh who got the virus in 2001.

Note that the issue of HIV/AIDS is already being spoken in past tense. While the figures are encouraging - after all no one really wants more and more people suffering - we know that even if not a single new person were infected from now onwards - the existing damage that has been wrought will take this and at least one more generation to work through.

Being in care for the long haul - that is one reason why we focus on working with Local Church congregations and prayer groups.

Each year the advent of World AIDS Day gives us an opportunity to call congregations to learn about God's heart for people with HIV, understand the context and needs of people in their communities, examine themselves, pray fervently for God's loving interventions - through us, and make real decisions to bless people with HIV and their care-givers.

One of the highlights of this year's Mumbai AIDS Sunday is a special meeting for all the churches in the Mulund area as well as neighbouring suburbs. We are focussing this Praise and Prayer to help reveal that Father heart of God for people living with HIV - and how we need to joyfully and thankfully respond both as individuals, as well as a fellowships faith.

The meeting will be held at 6.30 PM - 9 PM at the Marthoma Church, Mulund (opp. Fortis hospital). If you are in Mumbai or anywhere nearby - please do come by! We will be so blessed by you. If you are not going to be physically in the neighbourhood - we would deeply cherish your prayers!

A simple site has been set up at: www.aidssunday.wordpress.com