They Transformed My Life

This is the continuation of my blog titled "A precious lesson of Faith".

16 days after the death of their beloved son, finally his mortal remains reached home from Europe. The long wait had made them tired and weak, but they pulled through, thanks to the very supportive family. The couple's brothers and sisters and their kids had come from other states and abroad.

The sight of the huge 6 feet long wooden coffin sent by the French Government with his name and date of birth and death embossed in golden letters and a crescent moon just below it, occupied the hall of their apartment. Profound grief filled the place. Though no one was wailing or weeping loud, silence echoed too loud that one couldn't bear. A small glass piece kept on the lid was the only way to see him, that too just his face. My heart broke thinking of the torment that our friends were going through and I stood there helpless failing to console myself. My words and strength vanished and I needed consolation.

I was led by a girl to meet the mother. All I could was to cling to her and break down. Then I heard her voice in my ears, "Thank God that he came home and it is from here that he goes." I received those words from her and slowly understood what she meant. I looked at her. She wasn't shivering anymore and she wasn't broken. Her sister told me gently, "she's fine."

She sat near her son, her husband stood brave enough to honour the guests, and the younger son took care of all the arrangements. And then, it was time to bid Adieu. Silent tears ran like rivers breaking every heart. Consoling each other, they stood, holding on to each other, also holding each other. Prayers alone were heard and he was gone. In a few seconds around 20 ladies from the family and I remained there.

Through the silence, an elderly lady cried so bitterly hugging the mother. To her, the mother said calmly through her tears, "I am not crying. Why should you? Didn't he come home for all of us to see him?" Once again perfect calmness set in and they went to their rooms quietly. I sat in room with the mother, her sister and a few relatives. I was pondering over her words and the way she stood through the pain. Things were beyond my comprehension and my expectations; they were too powerful and profound. I looked at the mother who lost her darling son who was so attached to her. Her dried lips moved in incessant prayers. This was something very new to me. I sat there lost in thoughts, still not able to swallow the day's events.

Then came the memory of another lady who lost her son, a dear son, when he was 33. A mother who witnessed people lashing and whipping her dear son, spitting on his face, nailing his disfigured body to the cross, dying in a loud cry. A mother who walked along with the son with bleeding heart and tears of agony. A mother who never said a word against God or men to stop his son's fate as she knew that it was the will of God. A mother who carried him in her womb according to the will of God and let him in the hands of death, surrendering to the will of God. A mother who never questioned the will of God even when her son’s body was laid on her lap. Mother Mary, the mother of Jesus.

Through their silence everyone continued praying. After a while I saw them all getting ready for prayer. One by one they got ready after cleaning themselves and no one, even the mother was exempted. Sitting alone in the room, listening to the Arabic prayers that continued for a while in the hall, I became so curious to know what possibly one could pray at such a time of sorrow.

They came back after the prayer and I found them very calm and serene. During our conversation I told the mother, "I've heard of Mother Mary, but today I saw a mother who stands humble before the will of God, though her heart is breaking of the loss." She thanked me. I continued, "You have a beautiful religion and the way you practice it in your time of brokenness and the strength that you derive out of those prayers, I truly admire." They smiled gently and again thanked me. Hesitantly, I asked her niece, if I may know what they prayed. Her words were as cute as she is; seriously, responsibly, she explained it all to me. She told me, "First we glorified God, the Creator of Heaven and Earth and everything between them, the One who is responsible for all the things happening in both Heaven and Earth and between them. And we surrender ourselves to His will as His will is above all that happens everywhere. Then we thank Him for all that happens under His will and finally we make our petitions to Him. Today we asked Him to receive our brother to Heaven and his soul may find mercy from God to enter Heaven, and also that any sin that he might have committed may be forgiven through God’s mercy." (Sorry if I left out something.) Also she explained their way of mourning. Prophet Mohammed who himself lost his son, has taught them that it is allowed to release their emotions during the first three days, but in a dignified way that will not question the will of God, and then to pray for the departed soul to rest in peace in Heaven." Well, I could understand all that she told me in her beautiful language and style and she left me astonished by the depth of those words.

I was also overwhelmed by the way they gave attention to the grieving mother and took care of her and also the way they continued with their individual prayers for the soul, in the faith that the number of prayers that they say will help the soul reach its destination and find its resting place.

During the short conversation that I had with the mother, I learned that she is not supposed to rewind the past and live in those memories, but has to move on focusing the future. Also I learned that their religion teaches them to surrender to the will of God at all times and are supposed to obey that commandment.

Till evening I was there with them in that room and all their conversations were in a low, dignified voice and many times I heard the phrase 'Insha' Allah (If God wills) if they spoke anything that had to be done in future.

I was consoled that our friends have very loving and caring family members around and they all in unison surrendered to the will of God and their focus wasn't on their fate, rather on the departed soul's safe journey.

I felt extremely happy for them, their religion and the way they practice it. If I were a lost soul without any religion to practice, surely I would've considered accepting their religion. I knew that I belong to a similar religion, that started from the same origin, through the father of Faith called Abraham. God blessed both the sons of Abraham to multiply as nations. Through Isaac’s descendants Christianity was found and through Ishmael, Islam was found.

I felt that my religion preaches more than it is practiced and that they practice more than they preach. As I always used to challenge myself and others who think that their religion is better than the rest, to prove it through practice.

So there it was proven, the walk of Faith, and power of Faith. I imagined how I would've handled a similar crisis and what impression I would've made on others about my faith and religion.

Though I went there to be an emotional support to them, I stood once again at the receiving end, defeated, but with a determination to change the way of my thinking and views and ways of life.

Reaching back home, till this day I had only one interest. I searched and searched to find the prayers for the dying and the dead, the way to pray and to mourn and I am so grateful to God that there are similar ways in Christianity to follow in similar situations. I became confident and hopeful of practicing my religion in all situations of life.

My admiration for ‘Insha' Allah’ was so high that I searched in the internet for an equivalent in Christianity. My search was fruitful as I found out that it is written in the Holy Bible, James chapter 4, verses 13 - 15; " Now listen to me, you that say ‘Today or tomorrow we will travel to a certain city, where we will stay a year and go into business and make a lot of money.' You don't even know what your life tomorrow will be! You are like a puff of smoke, which disappears for a moment and then disappears. What you should say is this: "If the Lord is willing, we will live and do this or that."

I was shocked. My religion teaches it, but I never knew it and I had never seen anyone who practiced it either. 

Thanks to the people who showed me the strength and purpose that the religion makes in our lives and thanks to God Almighty for making me witness their wonderful way of practice and its results. 

Theirs is a wound that may not heal or a pain that may not fade. But surly they will be carried through life under the wings of Almighty God and they will find comfort under His will.

And I will continue my walk in Faith, hoping for the will of God to happen in my life and to receive whatever happens as the will of God and surrender myself completely to His will.

The Bible says these things:

“To have faith is to be sure of the things we hope for, to be certain of the things we cannot see."

"We live by faith, not by sight."

"Faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead."

My Muslim friends taught me the lesson of life through their deeds, not their words. And because of them I am a better Christian now. If God willing, I will preach my religion through practice.

May the dear departed soul rest in peace in Heaven.

You can read the 1st part of this blog (search on the right, under 'My Posts') in the blog titled 'A precious lesson of Faith'

A precious lesson of Faith!

I met a couple who lost their son due to a heart attack, and whose mortal remains hasn't arrived yet home from Europe where he was working, since the procedures are not through yet. It's been more than a week since they recieved the news of their dear son's demise; a boy who was so affectionate to his parents and to his younger brother. 

It was so difficult for all their family and friends to accept this tragedy and to hear the father’s cry was too much to take. Yet he gathered some strength through the consoling words of his friends and family, and the close-knit family still continues their prolonging wait. 

We went there to condole the bereaved family and the father and younger son welcomed us. With a few relatives around, the household waits in patience for the papers to be cleared and his remains to be brought back home.

The pain was so intense and we told them that the mother needn't even come to meet us if she doesn't feel like. But after some time, she slowly came. She hugged me and cried and without a word she conveyed all her feelings through her silent tears. The beautiful cheerful lady looked totally shaken and lost. Her body was shaking and she had no courage to face the world. She found some comfort in the tight hug of the younger son and slowly went back to her room. I had no words and I knew absolutely nothing can ever comfort a parent who lost the child.

Before leaving them, I went to the bedroom to see her. She took my words of comfort as if she was so hungry for them. She hugged me once again tight and told me this.."please pray that he should come soon." I cannot explain or express what I felt at that moment. I saw HUMILITY, SUBMISSION TO THE WILL OF GOD, UNQUESTIONING FAITH, HUMBLE DEPENDENCE ON GOD EVEN IN TIMES OF TOTAL BROKENNESS.

In this world of blaming and rebelling, questioning God and denying Him when any small thing doesn't go the way we want, calling God cruel and make Him responsible for every little misfortune, these people stand as Real Heroes. Not even once, not even as a reaction to this unexpected shocking news, did they blame or question God or their fate.

I don't know if our presence made a difference to their grief. But we received the greatest lesson of our lives! Their grief may never end, their wound may never heal. But I am sure that they'll find their strength in their God and keep on moving. And I am doubly sure that they will find relief in their younger son who is also so affectionate and caring and they'll be fine and will find enough reasons to smile again.

It is neither our religion nor the way we preach it so loud, but it is the way that we pass through the most horrible tests and trials of life that proves the depth of our faith in God.

India Raped!

I am scared to look at the newspaper. More than I am, to walk in the streets. I cannot see this word anymore. And I thank God for disconnecting my TV connection since two years.

Not a single day passes without hearing or reading the word 'Rape' and not only for me, for many people it causes a kind of reaction which is beyond explanation.

I am not judging the media or court. You may be doing your best. But no crime gets controlled or eliminated from our society. The number of crimes reported is increasing and thanks to God for giving strength to the weak victims to face the challenges of speaking out truth. Surely from now on, news channels and newspapers will report all kinds of crimes as India is ready to voice out the injustice done to their lives. Their voice will dirty the face of India, or the dirty face of India will be exposed.

When the fruit of the society is rotten, its root that has to be checked to know the cause of it. It is useless to count the number of rotten fruits and portraying it and describing it. What makes the society produce such vulgar produce?

Well, the Delhi incident was very different from what we had heard before. Too much for a human heart to even read, that incident is beyond tragedy or disaster. I don't want to describe it with an adjective of any language as I know that no language can bring that agony into words. That triggered everything and all the abuses and assaults and rapes surfaced and are floating on the top like corpses on the Dead Sea.

People blame the women for their dresses. May be they are bad. But does that mean that she has to be raped? Are all the women all over the world wearing any dress exhibiting anything are raped? Or is there any assurance that if all the women are well dressed, men will not look or touch them? Or is it like admitting that Indian men are out of control morally and sexually?

Consumption of alcohol beyond limits day and night starting from early ages, drugs of all kinds big and small that are available to anyone in petty shops, constant indulgence in pornographic videos and having any substance that makes a person sexually charged, the friends circle that helps and promotes all the activities and acts as gangs, separating the individual from family and religion...don't you agree that these things could be the cause of losing one's mind to behave like a moron?

Do we need alcohol and drugs to increase the revenue and build the nation? Will a nation ever grow with that kind of revenue? Can anything be washed with blood and made white? I know that I am saying something wrong according to you. But it is true that the most prestigious thing in India is alcohol. That defines all our celebrations and parties. It is the status symbol of a high class Indian.

Some of us are truly sad. Our life is disturbed by what is being heard every day. If our society was devoid of such malice, we could save the victims' parents and the culprits' parents from the agony they suffer. Now a set of parents are mourning for their lost kids and some others are morning for their kids they're going to lose.

I appreciate the alcohol-free States and Countries and they have proved that crime rates can be reduced through that. Guts and grit, how many of the head of States and Countries will have? If you just chat over the issue and act as if you don't know what the underlying problem is, India's women will come out with all the suppressed stories of suffering and discrimination.

We are watching. Don't fool us by saying that we will be spared if we are decent in our dress and talk. We are used and abused physically, mentally and sexually inside the house by our own people and outside the house by anyone on the street. Even beasts will never destroy its own kind, not kill another animal if not to eat.

I heard someone saying that women are looked as 'flesh'. I mean, even the flesh of killed animals hanging by the wayside shops can be owned by paying some money. So the human female flesh is the cheapest of all things in this world? Whatever you consider we are, take off your hands from us. You have no right to touch a woman. You are a criminal if you do so.

Head of States, stop wiping your tears. Let emotions subside and let the brain think and find REMEDIES and SOLUTIONS. Let wisdom prevail.

And ladies and girls learn self defense before your turn comes. And stop running after men blindly and trusting all strangers just because they smiled at you and told you "I love you". Be level headed. Be bold. Take extreme care of yourself and be wise and brave.

Ending with a prayer and a wish to see my country free from the slavery of its own vices. Somebody give Bharat Matha some hope, please..

Poor Start of a New Year at Poor Man's Ooty!

31st of December, a little bit of greed for peace made me decide to spend two days at Yercaud before the school reopening. I dreamed of the blue sky and quiet nature and flowers in my garden all awaiting me. We had to trouble our aged dog, making him bear all the hairpin bends and distance, as we were planning for an overnight stay. 

We reached around noon..I was not disappointed. Our water lily had a beautiful lavender flower on it and I was so happy to see it for the first time. The sight of gold fishes that swam beneath the leaves made my day. I took some time to see all the flowers. I didn't regret my decision.

Night came and there was that usual pin drop silence. I happily took my Bible and prayer book and sat on the warm mat. I thought to myself..'what an ideal place to pray'!

I heard a loud beat of music and as it stayed for a few seconds in the same volume, I looked at my husband. We thought and we hoped that it was a passing car with loud music played in it. We kept on hoping, but the volume didn't fade a bit. He left his laptop and I left my Bible and we opened the door and went out of the house. Standing near the gate we could see flashing laser beams and understood that the fourth house from ours had arranged a discotheque for New Year in their compound with loud speakers powerful enough to shake our house and break our hearts. 

When we asked the watchman's family they exclaimed that it is an every year affair and women will be dressed like film stars and will dance with bottles in their hands. They endure it every year and we were told that it will continue till 3 am!

As we decided not to confront and risk a fight, we called the police station. The police told us that they are also facing a similar scene near their police station and bearing it and advised us to do the same for just one night. Also they assured us that those people will get tired and will sleep soon! We missed our Salem house; thought how quiet it would be there at that hour.  Though we had an idea of driving down to Salem, the thought of mad rowdies on the Ghat road made us stay back.

For some time, the volume went low, we quickly said our family prayer. Again from 11 till midnight they had the worst music and at 12 when they screamed 'Happy New year' a tear drop fell from my eyes thinking of my bad start of the year and the sleepless night ahead.

We didn't even wish each other. I was awake till early morning, till the music died down. I got up with a headache when the phone started ringing to say "Happy New Year'! The morning was so peaceful. But with my heavy head nothing meant anything to me. I felt like hiring a cone speaker and blow it in the ears of those who were sleeping in the morning after spoiling our peace at night.

No, I didn't do anything. Just cooked lunch, had it, and packed back to Salem at the earliest, before drunkards dance and drive along the way in the evening. It was just afternoon, as we passed Yercaud lakeside, I could smell alcohol from the passing youths and all I wanted was to come home.

To make it short, by the time I reached Salem, I could only enter my home as if I'm rushing myself to an ICU and fall on the couch, apply Himalaya cold balm to numb my forehead from pain and thoughts and slowly sleep a bit.

I have nothing to tell to the ruthless stupid senseless Indians and undisciplined India. I just want to forget about the mad celebration of the rich with their English and rock music and alcohol. Neither education nor money makes anyone a human being.

Our plans of going to church in the evening, visiting the nearby orphanage, everything tumbled. The New Year day has come to an end. One Indian proposes, another Indian disposes! I am dead tired, yet I want to write this before I sleep.

I don't wish for a happy new year..I just wish to have a good night sleep..if it's not too much for me to ask of this New Year!!

He sent the word!

At the altar I knelt with some nagging hurt which had to be healed

Tears flowed and I told Him what and how I feel and why.

I asked Him only one thing, to make me feel that He is enough for me

All I wanted was my heart to smile in my loneliness

I was sure that He would speak to me

But when I opened my Bible I didn't get a response

'The answer will be sent' thus said He to my soul

So, closing my Bible, I got back to my table, back to my work

I needed a marker desperately and I couldn't find any

Sure of the number and colour, I looked for them in every room, everywhere.

None was found, but the search brought out some other forgotten things

Happy to find a key chain for the car key, I wound up my search for the marker

Still in its cover, fresh and new, gave me some relief that my search wasn't in vain

I took it out and looked at the picture of the empty cross with His stole hanging on it

On the other side was written 'Jesus Never Fails' and I was happy about my finding

The very next moment I heard my soul say 'The word is sent'

What! The word? Yes, the word was sent. "Jesus Never Fails"

My heart filled, my smile came back, my joy was restored

I decided to start my work without the marker, but then I found something else

An orange ink pen which would be more than enough to replace the marker.

"Just with one word HE pressed His way through my madness and His love has healed my soul!!!"

If no one teaches, who will learn?

In India, from birth till death, a person is defined and glorified by knowledge! Throughout one's life in schools and colleges, everyone looked on his the notebooks and exam papers and defined him good or bad. 

It's truly disturbing to explain what I see in the educational field. Political influence and Government policies make school authorities to remove discipline from the curriculum. As discipline is the foundation of education, the management, teachers and students stand on a platform which constantly shakes. This brings forth agitation and remorse feelings of all kind, destroying the chance of a student-teacher relationship.

The parents interfere in everything that the teacher does and teaches the teacher how to teach. Why all these knowledgeable people aren't opting for a job in schools, then? Because all have better jobs or don't have any other jobs?

Sorry to be harsh. But it is true that some parents prevent the teachers from bringing the child to good discipline and behaviour. The government sends instructions after instructions to remind the teacher that she has no right to correct the child.

We protect them when they are small and pet and pamper them giving in to all their wishes and fancies and one day they kick us away from their territory and hide whatever they do with their friends and strangers.

The same adults who protected them wash their hands if these kids end up in an abuse in the family or in a marriage, by telling them that it is their fate and just bear it!

We must check if we are truly responsible and truly loving! The answer is for the individual to find.

India has money and brains, but not yet developed as many Asian countries. With all the monuments preserved and made, no safety can be assured to a visitor. No degrees or high titles or jobs or financial status could ever make a difference in the behavioural pattern of Indians. People of all class can be found breaking all the laws in the same way. Smoking, use of alcohol and drugs, abuse of all kinds, etc. happen everywhere, making the learned and ignorant equals.

So what was the role of schools or colleges or whatever knowledge that we acquired over the years? If Indians are going to focus on an educational system without discipline and values as its foundation, we have to be ready to see our kids either being victims or being culprits. If we had to teach discipline and behaviour and impart values in kids, we wouldn't have witnessed so much of dying and killing and sentencing to death, in their youth. 

I feel bad for the victims' parents as well as the culprits' parents. This is not what any parent would want to happen to their kids. Most of the parents love their kids. But did we fail to teach and correct them when it was still possible?

The joy of the birth of the child starts at home and the tragedy that they bring ends at home. A child is not a toy to enjoy. He is your responsibility. 

Values are not taught, but caught. I wish each adult do some sacrifice to show a living example for the youngsters and I wish the youngsters to look and learn from an adult who lives a life of values.

 Religion, God and prayer are kept away from the busy lives and are used as hospitals and doctors, in times to run, in emergency situations.

Knowledge is not enough to live. Wisdom is the source of life and it is the gift of God. God is author and base of life and God is love. Address of God? Anywhere. His contact? Prayer.

May the New Year 2013 bring peace and joy and love to your hearts and homes and may it be pure enough for your God to reside and may you shine before others with the light of your God.

God bless...

12 - 12 - 12

This morning, I got a wish from a friend…

“Today is  12 - 12 - 12.   A similar date will occur only in the next century.  Most of us won’t be there to see that.   Let’s make this a Special Day”   

True..none of the people of my generation will be there, for sure.

But we saw 1999 and 2000! Then we saw 1-1-11, 10- 10 -10, 11-11-11, 12-12-12!!!

And why should we wish to see more of this, as we are a generation who saw almost everything!

We are a few people lived on planet Earth, who witnessed two Centuries and two Millenniums. Youngsters may ask us, “so what?”

How to explain? But at least let me try to.

When we were born, India had a few radios, a few telephones, and a few record players.

The radios stood high on a radio stand, which was luxurious furniture in some homes. If not run by electricity, it was called a transistor, which would run with batteries.

The telephones were black and bulky, except for some rich banglaws which had one, looking so posh and stylish. The dial of the telephones, we had to rotate each number a half circle, in order to dial, and each rotation would make a ‘dring’ sound, quite interesting.

The records were as big as a plate and there was a surface for it to rotate, with a sharp pin touching it from the side.

A few were blessed with one or two toys, but we played with anything and everything from nature. We created our own toys and our court yards were safe to play.

Games were plenty and many are extinct now, and I cannot explain them here.

Books were everyone’s friends and our parents and grandparents, our story tellers. Friends were few, but no one got bored, as families were close knit.

We saw our grand parents’ houses made fully of wood and craft works, some of its floor was polished by cow dung. Many houses were thatched roofed, in the neighbourhood. Our houses were mostly cemented, with cement floors or polished with red oxide. There were no show cases and no show pieces.

Our clothes were few and most of them, cotton or silk. Our vessels were made of brass, copper, iron and aluminium. Vessels and pots made of clay were mainly used for cooking and polished coconut shell served as spoons, with the handle made of the wood of the coconut tree. Our grand parents’ generation used only ceramic plates and bowls to have their food, where as we had steel plates and tumblers.

Our grandparents wore traditional dresses of the state and religion, and it is our parent’s generation who started wearing saris and pants and shirts. Kids had shorts and shirt, or frocks.

Water was drawn from wells, and we took bath in the river or in bathrooms which were outside the houses.

Fruits and vegetables mostly came from our trees and garden, and food was cooked either using firewood, kerosene stove or an electric hotplate.

Verandas accommodated the visitors and people could visit anyone, anytime.

Schools and colleges were far, and buses very few, cars very rare and we used to walk or cycle miles. The main vehicle for transporting goods was the bullock cart.

Milk came from the cows grown in our homes, oil from the coconut trees or other seeds, and most of the ailments were cured by the parts of the plants that were grown all around us.

There were houses with and some without electricity, petrol max or kerosene lanterns or lamps were common.

There was no calling bells for homes and there was enough silence to hear if anyone calls from outside.

Food was cooked and served at homes and restaurants were meant for travellers. Our outings were limited to Churches or temples or Mosques, and at the maximum it reached a cinema theatre. Rarely there were plays and concerts performed on special occasions.

Thus it goes, my list..which will have no end…

Then, slowly our generation saw many things. Cooking gas stove, Television, Tape recorder, Audio and Video Cassettes, Toys, Computers, Cell Phones, etc. etc…

Finally we moved on to a life style with new things and our world was filled with plastic and electronic stuff.

The dresses and the foot wears that we saw in pictures and films from other states and countries came to our homes too. The new stuff and word called “Synthetic” came to the scene. The hair styles changed, cycles were replaced by bikes and cars.

Our houses got show cases and food was eaten sometimes in restaurants.

The roads started flooding with buses and trucks and bullock carts were pushed out by animal activists.

Dogs and cats which remained outdoors started coming in and became available in all breeds. Birds were caged and fishes moved in to aquariums.

Slates and slate pencils disappeared and notebooks and fountain and ball point pens came in to class rooms.

The new things that came in, we called them “Modern” and that too was a Modern word!

We saw the transition of many things, yet we remained stable without losing our past. The ones who invented the modern gadgets, many belong to our generation. They work in all fields, holds all posts, in India and abroad. Even in less than 50 years, many of us celebrated the transition of the Millennium and welcomed the 21^st Century! From our parents we have heard the stories of British rule as they have seen Gandhiji and witnessed the year of independence. Our grandparents studies in schools started by English and their brain could calculate anything without calculators. We knew from them the stories of their childhood days and how the world existed without plastic and paper!

We used everything that was introduced on our journey through this world, and most of us are well informed and updated about the modern gadgets and use it well.   

This journey through the transitions has made us special in some way. I find most of us content in their lives and not scared of changing scenes in life. We all say this in common…“We are fortunate to have lived with and without, and we have seen it all.”

At the end of this wonderful day 12-12-12, I would say…. I definitely don’t regret that I wouldn't be here to see this date when it repeats…but I am eternally grateful to God that I was chosen to be born in my generation, a generation which earned a lot of wisdom from their journey, a generation which has a lot of tales to tell.

Hope my fellow folks would agree with me and I wish you all contentment about our great lifetime.

Before this day ends, let me post this blog…I may not find such a fancy date again!