I don't deny that I am lazy. Laziness does not hinder me when I initiate a thing, but it gradually creeps in. And then slowly it becomes a matter of 'mood.' My blog is the proof of it, where I wrote almost 125 days back. But I had to write today, or rather I was pushed to.
My day began with that usual difficulty to come out of bed. Eventually I did come out, reminding myself of an excitement to visit my hometown. Though the visit was for office-work, I wanted to take out couple of days to spend with my family.
I settled my pending account in the office as early as possible and felt quite relieved. Around 12, I left for the railway station. I found no trace of train on the station and began to wonder as to what could have happened. I went to the inquiry-window to find out whereabouts of the train. I was shocked to hear that the train was canceled. I became numb and did not know what to do. In response to my further inquiry, I was informed that all the trains going to Ahmedabad were canceled. Dejected, I decided to return to office (my home at the moment). I got an auto there, and sitting inside, started skimming what my next step should be. The auto had moved barely five feet, when the driver realized that one of the wheels of the auto was punctured. Still confused, he helped me find another auto. Finally, I settled there and took a sigh of relief. We had moved another two kilometers, and the clutch-wire of the auto broke. The auto-driver asked my ten minutes to repair it. Feeling pity for having a 'manhoos' passenger in his auto, I reluctantly told him to take 15 minutes if needed. He completed his work, and finally we reached back home after an hour.
I went to the office, and started looking at the other options to reach home as early as possible. But all my efforts were futile, since this time the internet gave up. The speed of internet was much the same as my own frequency in writing blogs. I washed my hands off and decided to spend time listening to music the rest of the evening. I was glad that the day was finally about to be over. There was still one surprise pending. This time, it was one of my old kurta that I tore while trying to change. But then, thankfully, the day ended.
One thing I enjoyed in the midst of all these misfortunes: it was the joy that I found in laughing at myself, at the thought that a day can be so bad.
Tuesday, 17 June 2008
Wednesday, 13 February 2008
Housholder held the house together!
February was a special month for us. It was a time to look back and question 'so what' or 'how' of all that we had learned throughout our time at SAIACS. An experience at Indiranagar Methodist Church on 23rd was enough to gauge our capabilities in explaining before others what we knew. Puppets of our teacher, Dr. David Housholder, lovingly known as 'Doc', were quite refreshing. Cindy, whom I found fun-loving and jolly (quite like me), and her mother were also blessing in their own capacities.
Yet the best day in the module was 13th. No, not because its the day before the Valentine's Day. It was special because after studying together for more than twenty months, all of us unfolded something new about ourselves that the others never knew.
As a part of our education, our teacher, a truly grand-fatherly figure, Doc asked us to share our unforgettable experiences and influential personalities in our educational career. However, gradually the discussion, for the sake of good I think, turned towards sharing of our testimonies. One after another each spoke about how life had treated them and how God had called them in His vineyard. Each story was unique and special. Particularly impressive were Jayaraj and Jisha (forgive me for my subjective perspective). Not because others had nothing important to say, but probably because I had quite a few things to identify with both of them. I am aware that others have many exciting areas of their life, which they could not open up due to the constrains of time.
This was special occassion because, we, as a class had not been able to spent much time together, at least for last six months, due to our thesis writing work. We had hardly any time to find out how the other one was doing. But now was the time to pour out all that we had in our hearts eagerly waiting to be gushed out once provided the opportunity. It was Doc who with his caring attitude and patient listening opened the doors of our hearts and provided us with long-awaited opportunity. And the stories came flowing.
We realized that Dr. Housholder had not only held our house together, he had made it much stronger than before. Hats off to Doc.
Yet the best day in the module was 13th. No, not because its the day before the Valentine's Day. It was special because after studying together for more than twenty months, all of us unfolded something new about ourselves that the others never knew.
As a part of our education, our teacher, a truly grand-fatherly figure, Doc asked us to share our unforgettable experiences and influential personalities in our educational career. However, gradually the discussion, for the sake of good I think, turned towards sharing of our testimonies. One after another each spoke about how life had treated them and how God had called them in His vineyard. Each story was unique and special. Particularly impressive were Jayaraj and Jisha (forgive me for my subjective perspective). Not because others had nothing important to say, but probably because I had quite a few things to identify with both of them. I am aware that others have many exciting areas of their life, which they could not open up due to the constrains of time.
This was special occassion because, we, as a class had not been able to spent much time together, at least for last six months, due to our thesis writing work. We had hardly any time to find out how the other one was doing. But now was the time to pour out all that we had in our hearts eagerly waiting to be gushed out once provided the opportunity. It was Doc who with his caring attitude and patient listening opened the doors of our hearts and provided us with long-awaited opportunity. And the stories came flowing.
We realized that Dr. Housholder had not only held our house together, he had made it much stronger than before. Hats off to Doc.
Millers' 46
February 11 was a memorable day for us - M.Th. second year students of Theology department. We went out for dinner, along with Nigel, our department co-ordinator, his wife Selena, sweet and tiny daughter Muskaan, and also this module's visiting faculties Dr. David and Linda Householder. Thomas was appointed as an organizer of the trip. He and Nigel worked together to finally select Miller's 46 as the venue.
We left from SAIACS at 6:30, and reached the venue by 7:30. As usual, some of us were hungry enough to swallow two plates of rice with the ever-tasty sambhar of SAIACS. The thought of dining outside had intensified the hunger. We had talked about our excitement before leaving from SAIACS, least aware of the unique and memorable experience that was waiting for us.
The uniqueness of experience began as soon as we received the menu. Few names made sense to us. These were: chicken, beef, fish, prones or pork; and the spices like pepper and garlic. But these names did not stand alone, they had adjectives, which made them something mysterious. We kept looking, sometimes at the menu and other times at one another, waiting for someone to order first, so it would make it easier for the other to say, "oh, the same for me too." The Householder and the Kumars were done. Jisha, Villo and Thomas too had their preferences. Jayaraj, I, Elayaraj and Zulu were the most confused ones. I and Jayaraj discreetly reached a conclusion that Jayaraj would opt for prawns and I would ask for chicken, and then we can share with each other. We could feel a proud smile on our faces because of making the wisest choice.
Soon, the servers came with what we had demanded. They pronounce the name of each items to place them in a right place. This was another test, because we had to work hard to remember what we had asked for. Soon came a plate, which seemed like made of china and frying pan attached to it. The smoke was stil coming out of the plate. When the server pronounce the name, I realized it was for me. I was scared to see the unique characteristics of my plate. Thankfully, Jayaraj soon joined me. His was the worse case, because he was given prawns with noodles, something he does not like. We looked at one another and smiled. There was yet another man who looked worried - Zulu.
I soon found out that I had something familiar, chicken and rice in the plate. I soon became a happy man. It was even more amusing to see Zulu and Jayaraj struggling. I gave them a devilish smile. Chicken in my plate was tasty and I soon finished it, without remembering the treaty I and Jeyaraj had made. Zulu was struggling and asked for help to finish his food. Thomas, I, and Jayaraj who had by now completed his task willingly lended help to Zulu. Finally we all were done.
We came back to SAIACS, not grumbling but laughing at ourselves. What else could we do! Some of us gathered that night and concluded that it was good to have such an experience once in a while. But yes, only once in a while.
We left from SAIACS at 6:30, and reached the venue by 7:30. As usual, some of us were hungry enough to swallow two plates of rice with the ever-tasty sambhar of SAIACS. The thought of dining outside had intensified the hunger. We had talked about our excitement before leaving from SAIACS, least aware of the unique and memorable experience that was waiting for us.
The uniqueness of experience began as soon as we received the menu. Few names made sense to us. These were: chicken, beef, fish, prones or pork; and the spices like pepper and garlic. But these names did not stand alone, they had adjectives, which made them something mysterious. We kept looking, sometimes at the menu and other times at one another, waiting for someone to order first, so it would make it easier for the other to say, "oh, the same for me too." The Householder and the Kumars were done. Jisha, Villo and Thomas too had their preferences. Jayaraj, I, Elayaraj and Zulu were the most confused ones. I and Jayaraj discreetly reached a conclusion that Jayaraj would opt for prawns and I would ask for chicken, and then we can share with each other. We could feel a proud smile on our faces because of making the wisest choice.
Soon, the servers came with what we had demanded. They pronounce the name of each items to place them in a right place. This was another test, because we had to work hard to remember what we had asked for. Soon came a plate, which seemed like made of china and frying pan attached to it. The smoke was stil coming out of the plate. When the server pronounce the name, I realized it was for me. I was scared to see the unique characteristics of my plate. Thankfully, Jayaraj soon joined me. His was the worse case, because he was given prawns with noodles, something he does not like. We looked at one another and smiled. There was yet another man who looked worried - Zulu.
I soon found out that I had something familiar, chicken and rice in the plate. I soon became a happy man. It was even more amusing to see Zulu and Jayaraj struggling. I gave them a devilish smile. Chicken in my plate was tasty and I soon finished it, without remembering the treaty I and Jeyaraj had made. Zulu was struggling and asked for help to finish his food. Thomas, I, and Jayaraj who had by now completed his task willingly lended help to Zulu. Finally we all were done.
We came back to SAIACS, not grumbling but laughing at ourselves. What else could we do! Some of us gathered that night and concluded that it was good to have such an experience once in a while. But yes, only once in a while.
Thursday, 7 February 2008
Malgudi Days
I am addicted to this habit of beginning a thing with a bang, and then not being able to give time to it, or wanting to get rid of it as early as possible. But this should not hamper my comeback, so let me decide to be more punctual in blogging this time. To begin with a book that I am reading these days, (actually for a long time, but have not been able to complete - one more proof of my laziness) - Swami and Friends by R K Narayan. I found this particular portion of the book quite amusing.
Let me tell the context first (as an obedient student of Hermeneutics). Swami and few of his classmates did not attend the school for a day. The next day, they are asked to explain the reasons for their absence. And so we have a reply from one of the students:
"The fifth [student] said that his grandmother died suddenly just as he was starting for the school. The Head Master asked him if he could bring a letter from his father. No. He had no father. Then, who was his guardian? His grandmother. But the grandmother was dead, was she not? No. It was another grandmother. The Head master asked how many grandmothers a person could have. No answer. Could he bring a letter from his neighbours? No. he could not. None of his neighbours could read or write, because he lived in the more illiterate parts of Ellaman Street. Then the Head master offered to send a teacher to this illiterate locality to ascertain from the boy's neighbours if the deaht of the grandmother was a fact. A pause, some perspiration, and then the answer thatthe neighbours could not possibly know anything about it, since the grandmother died in the village. The Head Master hit him on the knuckles with his cane..." (p.104).
Remember your school-days?
Let me tell the context first (as an obedient student of Hermeneutics). Swami and few of his classmates did not attend the school for a day. The next day, they are asked to explain the reasons for their absence. And so we have a reply from one of the students:
"The fifth [student] said that his grandmother died suddenly just as he was starting for the school. The Head Master asked him if he could bring a letter from his father. No. He had no father. Then, who was his guardian? His grandmother. But the grandmother was dead, was she not? No. It was another grandmother. The Head master asked how many grandmothers a person could have. No answer. Could he bring a letter from his neighbours? No. he could not. None of his neighbours could read or write, because he lived in the more illiterate parts of Ellaman Street. Then the Head master offered to send a teacher to this illiterate locality to ascertain from the boy's neighbours if the deaht of the grandmother was a fact. A pause, some perspiration, and then the answer thatthe neighbours could not possibly know anything about it, since the grandmother died in the village. The Head Master hit him on the knuckles with his cane..." (p.104).
Remember your school-days?
Friday, 31 August 2007
Saturday Morning with Ghalib
आज मिर्जा़ ग़ालिब की कुछ शायरी पढने का मौका मिला। वैसे उर्दू और हिंदी दौनों मुझे कम आती है, पर दिल से निकले हुए इतने ख़ूबसुरत लफ्ज़ों को अनसुना करने की ताकत नही है मुझ मे। सोचा कुछ शायरी को यहाँ रखा जाये। ताकि सब दोस्त उन्हें पढ़ सके, यह अंग्रेज़ी में लिखी हुई है।
jaan tum par nisar karta hun,
main nahi jaanta dua kya hai.
And this one.....
1. ishq mujko nahi wehsat (solitude) hi sahi
meree wehsat teri shohrat (fame, popularity) hi sahi.
2. kaata kijiye na talluq (relation) hamse,
kucch nahi hai to adaavat (enmity) hi sahi.
3. mere hone mein hai kya ruswaee (embarassment, disgrace),
hai woh majlis (gathering) nahi khalwat (isolation) hi sahi.
4. hum bhi dushman to nahi hai apne
ghair ko tujhse mohabbat hi sahi.
And this one is just too good to resist....
1. Mehrbaan ho ke bula lo mujhe chaho jis waqt,
mein gaya waqt nahi hun ke phir aa bhi na sakun.
2. Zauf (weakness) main tana-e-aghyaar (taunt of an enenmy) ka shikwaa (complaint) kyaa hai? baat kuch sar to nahi hai ki utha bhi naa sakun.
3. zahar milta bhi nahi mujhko sitamgar (oppressor) warna
kya kasam hai tere milne ki ke khaa bhi naa sakun.
I am really kin to read Ghalib's biography, just assuming that such poetry can't come out without some experiential and philosophical convictions. Well, lets finish the thesis first (I have lost my whole Saturday morning to Ghalib, worthwhile though).
jaan tum par nisar karta hun,
main nahi jaanta dua kya hai.
And this one.....
1. ishq mujko nahi wehsat (solitude) hi sahi
meree wehsat teri shohrat (fame, popularity) hi sahi.
2. kaata kijiye na talluq (relation) hamse,
kucch nahi hai to adaavat (enmity) hi sahi.
3. mere hone mein hai kya ruswaee (embarassment, disgrace),
hai woh majlis (gathering) nahi khalwat (isolation) hi sahi.
4. hum bhi dushman to nahi hai apne
ghair ko tujhse mohabbat hi sahi.
And this one is just too good to resist....
1. Mehrbaan ho ke bula lo mujhe chaho jis waqt,
mein gaya waqt nahi hun ke phir aa bhi na sakun.
2. Zauf (weakness) main tana-e-aghyaar (taunt of an enenmy) ka shikwaa (complaint) kyaa hai? baat kuch sar to nahi hai ki utha bhi naa sakun.
3. zahar milta bhi nahi mujhko sitamgar (oppressor) warna
kya kasam hai tere milne ki ke khaa bhi naa sakun.
I am really kin to read Ghalib's biography, just assuming that such poetry can't come out without some experiential and philosophical convictions. Well, lets finish the thesis first (I have lost my whole Saturday morning to Ghalib, worthwhile though).
Thursday, 9 August 2007
Remembering Devanandan
Now that 'Smash 2007,' a Volleyball tournament at SAIACS, is over, at least one baggage seems reduced from my lean shoulders. Though, it may make no big difference compared to the overwhelming amount of energy and time my thesis-project demands. I felt guilty that I could not contribute anything to e-board during this tournament. It was simply because I thought of giving up blogging for sometime and concentrate more on my thesis.
Today, however, I felt to blog. Reason? - because today is the 45th death anniversary of our own Indian Christian theologian, Paul David Devanandan (1901-1962). Born in Madras to well-educated parents, he developed interest in the political and religious life of India right from his childhood. He was brought up in Western education, but in Indian home; this context was an asset to develop a theologian out of him. This context was perhaps a miniature of the context of India. India was absorbing western values, but was not willing to give up its own cultural heritage. This led to self-pride, nationalism and religious resurgence. The nationalistic feelings ran so high, that everything foreign was looked at with suspicious eyes, and everything 'Indian' as perfect, demanding no criticism. Christianity was, sadly, considered a part of this foreign package.
Devanandan spent a great deal of time studying this situation. He responded to the charges of both Nationalistic and Orthodox Hinduism. However, he supported a group of Hindus that advocated reform within Hinduism and absorbed Christian Western values, like abolition of Caste and Sati. Devanandan saw the hand of God in Hindu reforms, and asked the Christians to be supportive to these reforms. Did he think this was the way to bring the Hindus closer to Christ? May be. Whether this would have worked/ has worked is a question, but he did consider this to be a common ground for all religions - to bring social reforms, uplift the poor and striving for just and equal society. Today's India is passing through similar situation as that of Devanandan, and no Indian Christian would make a mistake in appraising his theology for our times.
Assessing Devanandan, it would be good to quote his own sentence, written in praise of Tagore - "A truly great men have been great because they have completely identified themselves with true humanity.... Here then is the paradox of human work; the greater the man and the farther removed from us of common mould and feeble frame, the closer he comes to the innermost being of ordinary humanity," and so was Devanandan. He stands as a source of encouragement to all those who are excited at the thought of developing Indian Christian theology. Hats off to Devanandan.
For the collection of his writings refer to:
Joachim Wietzke, Paul D. Devanandan, Vol.1 & 2 (Madras: The Christian Literature Society, 1983 & 1987).
Today, however, I felt to blog. Reason? - because today is the 45th death anniversary of our own Indian Christian theologian, Paul David Devanandan (1901-1962). Born in Madras to well-educated parents, he developed interest in the political and religious life of India right from his childhood. He was brought up in Western education, but in Indian home; this context was an asset to develop a theologian out of him. This context was perhaps a miniature of the context of India. India was absorbing western values, but was not willing to give up its own cultural heritage. This led to self-pride, nationalism and religious resurgence. The nationalistic feelings ran so high, that everything foreign was looked at with suspicious eyes, and everything 'Indian' as perfect, demanding no criticism. Christianity was, sadly, considered a part of this foreign package.
Devanandan spent a great deal of time studying this situation. He responded to the charges of both Nationalistic and Orthodox Hinduism. However, he supported a group of Hindus that advocated reform within Hinduism and absorbed Christian Western values, like abolition of Caste and Sati. Devanandan saw the hand of God in Hindu reforms, and asked the Christians to be supportive to these reforms. Did he think this was the way to bring the Hindus closer to Christ? May be. Whether this would have worked/ has worked is a question, but he did consider this to be a common ground for all religions - to bring social reforms, uplift the poor and striving for just and equal society. Today's India is passing through similar situation as that of Devanandan, and no Indian Christian would make a mistake in appraising his theology for our times.
Assessing Devanandan, it would be good to quote his own sentence, written in praise of Tagore - "A truly great men have been great because they have completely identified themselves with true humanity.... Here then is the paradox of human work; the greater the man and the farther removed from us of common mould and feeble frame, the closer he comes to the innermost being of ordinary humanity," and so was Devanandan. He stands as a source of encouragement to all those who are excited at the thought of developing Indian Christian theology. Hats off to Devanandan.
For the collection of his writings refer to:
Joachim Wietzke, Paul D. Devanandan, Vol.1 & 2 (Madras: The Christian Literature Society, 1983 & 1987).
Tuesday, 10 July 2007
Identity Crisis
I am writing my thesis on national identity of Christians in India vis-a-vis resurgence of Hindu Nationalism. Yesterday, I submitted my first chapter. No, its nothing to brag about, because I am lagging behind everyone else in the class.
Well, the topic here is identity. The word 'identity' is taken from Latin word idem, which refers to sameness. It has two aspects: psychological and sociological. The former answers the question, "who am I?", the latter "Who do people say I am?" Building on these aspects, famous psycho-analyst Erik Erikson, popularized the term - 'identity-crisis.' This term describes the situation where the psychological and sociological aspects are interlocked in one's sense of self (see Oxford Dictionary of Sociology). But why am i scribbling all these here?
I was in Chandigarh till 2001, and everyone who knew me thought I was Punjabi. Then I moved to Kerala, where they thought I was a 'Mallu.' In between I went back to Chandigarh. The church I visited once had several South Indian families. Right after the service was over, some members of a Malayali family came and started talking to me in Malayalam. I enjoyed it for sometime, and finally bursted out with laughter saying in my broken Malayalam, "Malayalam korchu korchu mansilai" (I understand only little of Malayalam). Here in Bangalore, I recently met Sam. He soon became my friend. He confessed that he thought me to be a Naga. When I visited North-east, some others thought I was Asomi. I wonder if I am having identity-crisis.
Well, it may be identity-crisis for Erikson, for me it is 'identity-bliss.' I think it is blessed to know that people consider you just one of them (at least because of looks, as in my case).
Well, the topic here is identity. The word 'identity' is taken from Latin word idem, which refers to sameness. It has two aspects: psychological and sociological. The former answers the question, "who am I?", the latter "Who do people say I am?" Building on these aspects, famous psycho-analyst Erik Erikson, popularized the term - 'identity-crisis.' This term describes the situation where the psychological and sociological aspects are interlocked in one's sense of self (see Oxford Dictionary of Sociology). But why am i scribbling all these here?
I was in Chandigarh till 2001, and everyone who knew me thought I was Punjabi. Then I moved to Kerala, where they thought I was a 'Mallu.' In between I went back to Chandigarh. The church I visited once had several South Indian families. Right after the service was over, some members of a Malayali family came and started talking to me in Malayalam. I enjoyed it for sometime, and finally bursted out with laughter saying in my broken Malayalam, "Malayalam korchu korchu mansilai" (I understand only little of Malayalam). Here in Bangalore, I recently met Sam. He soon became my friend. He confessed that he thought me to be a Naga. When I visited North-east, some others thought I was Asomi. I wonder if I am having identity-crisis.
Well, it may be identity-crisis for Erikson, for me it is 'identity-bliss.' I think it is blessed to know that people consider you just one of them (at least because of looks, as in my case).
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