Countdown

It is late at night - but we are awake.  Awake but separated by 1890 kms. 

Sheba is awake doing her last night call in oby-gynae at the Duncan Hospital in Raxual.  

I am awake taking a last look at the computer before I hit the hay.  Our kids are asleep in the bed behind me.

We are about to make the distance shorter.  Sheba will finish her night call (which will inevitably have at least 3 deliveries and perhaps a C-section to do). Then she will pick up her luggage (packed already) and leave the hospital at 8 AM tomorrow morning.  At 8.50 her train is due to leave the station.

Its been a long 5 weeks.  The longest we have been apart since we said 'I do' to each other on the 15th of Dec. 1999.  The longest time that the kids have been away from Mummy.   We have been counting the days.  Our generous lego calendar tells us that we have 4 more days till Sheba returns.

We are amazingly proud of Sheba.  She has poured herself into the work and has been a real blessings.  Being on night calls every third night means that she has delivered a lot of babies.  One night alone she did 3 ceaserian sections - alone.  We are eager to see how she can put the management of very sick patients that she has been doing in Raxual - along with Dr. Philip Finney and the team - into practice among our very sick patients here at JSK.

And so tomorrow - which cannot come too soon - the train will start shrinking the 1890 kms as Sheba is pulled steadily towards Delhi.  By Wednesday morning that distance will shrink to 0 kms - infact we will be 0 cms apart.  Speed the day.

Another WAD...

India woke up to AIDS in 1986 when the first cases were reported from Chennai.

Well.  That's when the first cases were detected.

Have we ever really woken up?

We are now a quarter of a century down the road.  We are glad that our HIV prevalence rate (0.31% of adult population) is lower than that of the US.  At least according to official estimates by our National AIDS Control Organisation.

The government has - perhaps gleefully - announced that the rates of new HIV infections have decreased by 50% over the past decade.

Good.  But there are still new people getting infected.  And we still have a lot of people who have been infected and still don't even know their true status.  And the overall quality of the data - and availability remains abysmal.  How we wish we could have a summary like the CDC puts out for HIV in the US.

"A little knowledge is a dangerous thing" someone said.  Quite.

That we are a quarter century into HIV in India and still do not have the most basic understanding of the disease is sad.  Especially when it is a reporter for a national newspaper.

Yesterday a prominent Mumbai paper put out a howler of an article whose headline breathlessly announces that "Aids cases fall by 88.64% in Mumbai."  Just seeing someone quote a double decimal point shows that here is a person who does not understand statistics.  No govt. figures are going to be accurate even for a single decimal point - let alone the false sense of precision that a double one gives.

The article goes on to claim that "percentage of HIV positive cases fell from 10.56 of the Aids cases reported in 2007 to 5.84% till October in 2011"  This is pure gibberish.  Every person with AIDS is HIV positive.  The reporter seems to have gotten even the most basic distinction of what HIV is and what AIDS is on its head.

My favorite part of the article was this statement: "The number of deaths also came down from 233 in 2007 to 15 so far this year"   Wow.  According to this reporters understanding - the govt. figures show that only 15 people died of AIDS this year in Mumbai.   15 deaths out of 16 million inhabitants.  That means that you probably have a better chance of having your ear bitten off by a rat than dying of HIV in Mumbai town.

If this were only true. Only 15 deaths. My word - wouldn't that be just great!  We could shut down Jeevan Sahara and do something else.  Maybe start helping people not fall while taking showers.  I am sure that more than 15 people in Mumbai have died while slipping in the bathroom this month - let alone this year.

Sadly it isn't.  We know.

We have seen friends with HIV who were alive as of 1.1.2011 - and who are not as of 29.11.2011.   I will use some of their real names just to prove it.  I am using their first names because they are so common.  They could be anyone - but these were real flesh-and-blood people:  Irfan.  Pushpa. Deepali.  Sonali. Anant. Sudhakar. Villas.  And the list goes on.  These are people we have touched.  We have loved. And who today are dead.  Dead because of a virus called HIV that knocks out our beautiful God-given immune system.

Off the top of my head I have just named half of the people who supposedly - according to the govt. stats - have died in Mumbai this year of AIDS.

And so we lurch towards another Dec. 1st.  Its World AIDS Day and we will continue to do what we have been doing for this past decade.  Loving people with HIV.  Telling others about it.  Praying.  Caring and sharing.  Whatever the so-called statistics tell us - we know from our experience on the ground - that there is still so much to be done.

We will see an AIDS-free generation someday - but its not just round the corner.  In the mean time we have our hands on the plow.  And our hearts talking to God.

A mini concert

Asha and Enoch love to sing and play.  One of the joys we have is seeing them develop their musical skills.

They both have excellent teachers - Elaine Thomas is guiding Asha with the violin and Trevor Ross helps Enoch with the keyboard.  Both teachers see the music the kids are making as not just a set of notes and skills - but as an expression of praise to God himself.

Here is a small snippet of one of the songs they are playing these days.

If you come home - it may take a few minutes for Asha and Enoch to warm up to you.  But should they get the violin and keyboard out - then you are in for a treat of at least 3 songs of not more.

What a difference from my musically challenged childhood.  My mother - bless her heart - tried so hard to coax something musical out of me.  We went through the piano, recorder and finally guitar.  Mum tried to teach me the first - and got me to go for recorder lessons and finally paid good money for guitar tutoring.  But of no avail.  I was too lazy and uninterested.  How different this next gen is.  Yes, we do need the occasional ''strong suggestion" to have our twosome practice their instruments - but both teachers are happy (and both parents thrilled) with what we have going.

Cyrus and I

Late one night last week I saw a small article on the BBC website stating that the Tata's had chosen the successor to Ratan Tata - a man widely credited for moving the mammoth Tata Group from being a big old-money industrial house in India to becoming a major world player.  The Tatas are now the UK's largest industrial employer and own well-known automobile brands like Jaguar and Rover, as well as Tetley Tea, and Corus steel.  That is in addition to their own home-grown but world-class Tata brands of Tata Consultancy Services as well and the whole stable of industries in India and other parts of the world.

Curious to see who the new person was I clicked and found myself looking at a familiar name.  Cyrus Mistry.

A few years ago I received an email from an Irish journalist asking if I had gone to school with Cyrus Pallonji Mistry - the son of Irish-Indian real estate tycoon Pallonji Mistry and what my memories of him were.  I was not familiar with the middle name and anyway did not want to answer the enterprising hack - so I sent a short email response declining comment.

Cyrus P. Mistry - director designate for Tata Sons

Seeing the name again was a real surprise.  I was staggered to think that my classmate from 5th standard at the Cathedral and John Connon School in Mumbai is now about to take over one of the biggest business houses.

Till now I had thought that only one of my classmates was from an industrialist family - Tanya Godrej - the daughter of Adi and Parmeshwar Godrej.  And it was It was many years later that I even realised that - reading about her wedding in the papers and putting two and two together. 

I had actually thought of Cyrus a few times in the last few years.  Not because I knew anything about his family (which a cursory reading of the papers shows that they have been a major part of the Tata group for decades).  But because of his name - Cyrus.

In the Bible studies that I lead on many a Friday night we have spent some time recently looking at the history of the Jews in their Babylonian exile. One of the most remarkable emporers is the great Persio-Mede emperor Cyrus the Great. Fulfilling the seemingly improbable prophecy of Jeremiah - the Emporer Cyrus (whose empire stretched well into Hindusthan - making him king of our people too - or at least part of our ancestors) decreed that all the Jews who wished to could return to their ancient city of Jerusalem and rebuild the temple there.

The Bible records this in the 2nd Chronicles chapter 35 and verses 22 and 23:

In the first year of Cyrus king of Persia, in order to fulfill the word of the LORD spoken by Jeremiah, the LORD moved the heart of Cyrus king of Persia to make a proclamation throughout his realm and also to put it in writing: 

This is what Cyrus king of Persia says:  “‘The LORD, the God of heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth and he has appointed me to build a temple for him at Jerusalem in Judah. Any of his people among you may go up, and may the LORD their God be with them.’”

Reading the name of Cyrus in the Bible reminded my of my own Cyrus.  The Cyrus Mistry who studied together with me in 5th standard.  His name a direct tribute to the great Persion King who ruled most of the world at the time.  A king who was a Zorastrian by religion - a faith which continues to be followed by the Parsee community which my classmate Cyrus - and for that matter the Tatas and Godrejs are followers of.

The Cyrus of my mental image was a skinny boy with specks.  Of course most of us boys were small and skinny then.  Yours truly was the third smallest in the class for what seemed ages.  As 5th standard boys we spent much of our time wrestling and getting our white uniforms completely brown / grey with dirt - and splattered with the blue ink-trails of our beloved Chinese fountain pens.  Actually the only clear memory I have of Cyrus was talking to him one afternoon in a craft lesson which we had in a room that was not our normal classroom.  Other than that only faded photos remain on my part to link us together. 

When I told my daughter Asha about Cyrus she said I should call him up - or at least send him an email.  I can just imagine his inbox at the moment - he must be getting 500 or so emails a day!  Everyone who never noticed him will be hounding him now - seeking favours - trying to get onto his contact list.  I don't think I will add to that.  But just to for the record - I am really proud that Cyrus is taking up this amazing responsibility.  My earnest prayer to Jesus is that Cyrus will be diligent in leading the Tata group and that as the result of his leadership his employees will be blessed and our nation strengthened. 

Thinking back I am so grateful for the amazing schools I have had the privilege of attending.  Cathedral and John Connon from first to 1/2 of sixth standard.  The Deutsche Schule Bombay from 6th to 10th.  And then of course Woodstock School for my 11th and 12th.  Each school was not only a place where excellent teachers poured themselves into us - but also where I was blessed to study with some wonderful boys and girls.

The genius of wearing uniforms at Cathedral (despite the pain it caused my mother to clean the mess I brought back on me everyday) was that no matter what our house-hold income was - at school we all wore the same clothes so I never realised just how great our income disparities were.  Further - we were all taught the same way.  My classmates whose parents were captains in industry did not get more attention than those of us whose parents were not.  Our dear 5th standard teacher Mrs. Mahableshwarwallah - herself a Parsee like Cyrus and Tanya are - direct descendants of those Zorastrians who left Persia and received shelter in India generations ago - poured herself into us.

I wonder what her thoughts would be if she were to see where we have all ended up today.

Cyrus Mistry - fifth from the left of the second row standing.  Tanya Godrej - second from the right in the first row standing.  Your 'umble Chai Chat wallah - Andreas Eicher - first row seating extreme right.

Blue blistering barnacles

I grew up in a pretty sober home.  We didn't have a TV.  Movies were rare.  Books were plentiful.

Along the way a special group of comics crept in.  I don't exactly remember when I read the first. But I think it may have been The Calculus Affair.  I must have been about 8 at the time.

Over our growing up years the various characters in Tintin's world became our friends.  The 22 volumes that were available to us (the early crudely-drawn Tintin in the Land of the Soviets and Herge's final unfinished Tintin and Alpha Art remain unread).  But the rest of the books - with the irascible Captain Haddock and the bumbling Thomson and Thompson (with the silent p) and Professor Calculus and Bianca Castefoire..  all are part of who we grew up as.

The next gen of Eichers have taken up the same love for Herge's ligne claire drawings.  One of the high-lights of our annual pilgrimage to Shanti Kunj are the endless hours lying in bed reading and rereading Tintin comics.  The fascination continues here in Thane town.  Our two Tintin volumes that we have (Tintin in Tibet, Land of Black Gold) are endlessly re-read. One year we made Enoch's birthday cake as Tintin.

It was thus with a little trepidation that we embarked upon the highlight of the week - going to see Spielberg's big-budget Hollywood adaptation of The Secret of the Unicorn.  I asked my good friend Vasu Vittal what he thought - he told me to be prepared for Hollywood.  I did.

The film was a pure adrenaline rush.  Tintin on speed. Tintin in the most lush jaw-droppingly beautiful locales.  Wow.  The battle scene between Sir Francis Haddock's Unicorn and Red Rackham's raider stupendous.  The desert scenes achingly beautiful.  The clarity of the lostness of being adrift at sea. Every image yearned to be seen again and pondered over.  Like a comic book.

Having gone in with low expectations - and not expecting every bit of the beloved books to be reproduced the kids and I had a non-stop whooping and laughter marathon.  Our very dear (and for security purposes nameless) friends had drove all the way from Mumbai-town to give us this treat - and we all enjoyed every bit of it.  Not for me the fulminations of Tintin purists.

I will take my Thomson and Thompson as they come.  In ligne claire and in Hollywood too.

A stray line I read a few weeks ago suddenly made sense. The author said that the genius of a comic strip is that our minds have to fill in the blanks of what happens between the images.  This does not happen in a film.  Everything is there.  The challenge for the comic creator is to show enough and get your mind to fill in the rest.

Just like no set of Narnia films will ever do justice to the simplicity and the spriteness of Lewis' works - no set of Hollywood behemoths (and likeable ones at that) will push Herge's volumes into the trash.  For one thing - the totally painstaking research that went into all but the very first volumes will continue to shine forward.  A recent article shows how Herge meticulously drew the various cars of the day into his stories.  And then there is the slapstick and the adventure and the quirks of characters that draw you through.  And did I speak about the colours...

Our kids will in all probability be having to pry their own brood away from the ye olde Eicher Tintin volumes sometime in the distant future...

So I say 'blue blistering barnacles' to all who dislike the film.  Give Spielberg his due.  And keep reading Herge.  After all - as Cuthbert Calculus said at the end of the orginal Secret of the Unicorn: "All's well that ends well!"

Lionel - Part 2

Lionel was admitted at one of the large municipal hospitals in Mumbai.

He was HIV positive.  He needed orthopaedic surgery.

Lionel's boss who runs a well-known nursing home first promised him that he would do the operation.  But then he backed out.   He filed and accident report and sent Lionel to the govt. hospital.

It was almost a death sentence.

Lionel was taken to the hospital.  And dumped.

No one came to help him.  He was alone.

The doctors didn't touch him.  The nurses treated him like dirt.  Ward boys?  Forget it.  Lionel said the doctors acted like small time mafiosi.

Lionel was eventually shunted out onto a balcony.  Alone.

There he lay in pain.  Unable to move.  No one fed him.  His hair grew.  He weakened.

Somewhere in his misery he prayed.  He had never been the praying type.  But in his weakness and misery he called out to Jesus.

Over a thousand kms away things started to move.  Lionel's mother realised her son was missing.  She tried to contact people and got no info.  She finally called a relative who lives in Thane and asked her to see if she could track down Lionel.

It was this lady who found Lionel.  She brought one of her nephews with her and they searched for Lionel in the govt. Hospitals.  Then they found Lionel.  He was emaciated.  He had not passed stool for 2 weeks. 

Lionel's relatives were shocked to see him. Shocked at the knowlege that he was HIV positive.  But even more dismayed by the near death situation they found him in.

Together they started to look after Lionel.  Gave him a bath and a shave.  Fed him.  Talked to him.  Heard his story.  He had never met them when he came to Mumbai.  But now they were there for him.

I got a call from one of them a few days after they found him.  They were looking for options.  A place where Lionel could get his surgery done.  A place where he could recuperate. 

We talked to Lionel's cousin and told him that it was not just a matter of getting a surgery done - Lionel also needs a place to recuperate.  A place to live and make a new life. Lionel needed a home.

Lionel's relatives swung into action.  They took him to the Kalwa hospital where they were told he could have his operation.  After they actually brought him to the hospital they were told that it would not be done.  The reason is always the HIV.  Surgeons - especially orthopaedic surgeons - just do not want to operate on people with HIV.  An the way hospitals are - hearing from one person does not guarantee a procedure will really be done.

But Lionel's relatives did not give up.  They had not only found Lionel - a man who had never had the time of day for them in all the years he had lived in the Mumbai area. But now they also have a new relationship with him as fellow worshippers of Jesus. When they first met him they asked Lionel if he had ever prayed to Jesus.  He told them that this was all he could do when he was lying helpless on that balcony.

Lionel's relatives worked and prayed.  And a week later managed to get his operation done a the KEM hospital.  After a few days the hospital wanted to discharge him.  He needed to go back home South - but no trains were available immediately. 

We agreed to have him stay at the JSK centre. 

He said that the time he spent with us was like being in heaven.  The care he got from our nurses.  The love and prayer from the JSK staff and visitors.

Finally it was time for him to go South.  Sheba and I had already left - so we did not seem him off - but we know that there were tears.

Lionel's story is not over yet.

He is alive.  He still has HIV.  He still has to fully recover from his injury. 

We believe his post-op healing is taking place.

But the home front remains grim.

His father refuses to speak with him.  He had called Lionel's relatives and told him not to bring Lionel home.  Part of the matter seems to be Lionel's father's own alcoholism and the deep unforgiving spirit he has.

Lionel's wife and child are still estranged.   He is still not sure what his next steps should be.  He calls up our staff and talks to them and has said he would like to come back and work again at the nursing home here.

Lionel is an unfinished book. The next chapter is still being written.

Lionel - part 1

"You really must write a book about your experiences"

The young pastor I was talking to yesterday leaned forward to me.  "I will translate it into Kannada"

We were sitting in his living room.  His paintings adorned the walls - Jesus sitting on the floor with his disciples - a rangoli infront of him as he divided the chappatis.  The pastor's wife sat next to him on their couch and was beaming as they had just told me that they were expecting their first child.

"I do write" I replied.  "I write some of  them on the blog"

"We have so many stories that unless we write them down - we forget them"

We have many stories because the lives of the people we meet at Jeevan Sahara are all so completely different. And so intense.  And they just keep coming.  The people - and with them their stories. Our hard drives quickly fill up.  This blog is one way of trying to remember.  

I realise - however - that when I write the words so often barely do justice to the experiences of our HIV positive friends.  Each life is so layered and varied - and many a time I write something only to realise that I didn't fully get the picture (its always good when Sheba read blog and corrects me).  But at the same time - I marvel at the miracle of language - of how a few words are able to capture significant - if not exhaustive - parts of our friends lives.

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Here is a story.

Lionel is a man in his mid 30s.

His parents are wealthy land owners in the South.  They had a daughter.  Then another.  Then a third.

The prayed for a son.

They got one in Lionel.

Lionel was not a good son.

After some time he left home and struck out for Mumbai.  He trained as an X-ray technician and married a nurse - his state is famous for nurses - and the moved to Thane.

Lionel had another mistress though - the bottle.

Lionel wanted to go abroad (his state is famous fr the number of people who migrate for work).  As part of the medical he had an HIV test done.  He ended up HIV positive.  It was a terrible shock. After some time his wife could not handle it anymore - and took their son away.  Leaving Lionel to his bottle.

Homeless Lionel managed to persuade the owner of the nursing home he worked at to let him have a small corner to live in - in return for doing odd jobs and working as the care-taker.

This arrangement went on for some time.

Then one day Lionel climbed up to check on the water tank.  It seemed to be overflowing - so Lionel climbed up - and then slipped and fell down.  Lionel broke his upper femur.  The nursing home director told him not to worry - that they would take care of eveything.

They did not.

After 10 days, the director said that he could not do anything  anymore since Lionel had HIV and that Lionel will have to go to a govt. hospital for treatment.  A form was given to Lonel to sign - and then Lionel was taken to a large municipal hospital in Mumbai.

This is where the real drama began for Lionel....


(gentle reader - there will be more tomorrow about Lionel's next steps)