Thunder and lightening

 In our Salesian religious communities, the common community prayer moments are a dynamic in themselves.  Often they inadvertently reflect the level of community relationship and the vibe. 

In most communities, after the initial days of new members joining and the people getting used to one another, fall into sync in a couple of weeks.  The prayers, usually recited in two choirs, have their own rhythm and there is some sort of semblance, in most places.  

Nonetheless, there are some communities where there is always an orchestra on!  The prayer, even though recited, is in two voices!  There is sometimes one or two who are out of sync in their speed, if not in the words themselves.  Either someone recites so fast that by the time one is halfway through the verse, the other has ended the verse.  Or someone is so slow, that no matter how slow you recite, the other will still be slower!  Akin to thunder and lightening - never together, always one after the other! 

Some confreres have no clue or intention of modulating their voice as per the size of the group.  No matter how many in the Chapel, their volume is set. There are a select few who have a peculiar tone of ending the prayer or the verse; and some cartoons like me are more attuned to these handful of individuals and their comical sounds, drawing amusement from paying closer attention to these, than to God himself. 

Then there are those who pray so loudly that the one sitting next to them is the only one who can hear them - not sure if God himself is able to!  Worse is when such individuals make an intercessory prayer. The rest of the community either does not hear what he says or cannot follow what or whom he prayed for.  So invariably there is silence after he has concluded the prayer - unless the one sitting beside him (the only one for whom, something is audible), starts the common response, 'Lord, hear our prayer!'. And someone mockingly does not resist from responding, 'Lord, hear HIS prayer!'

At times, there are those who start a prayer, but in the news-reading mode.  More than a prayer, it is an update on the event or the person; and by the time he has concluded his lengthy prayer, even God would be confused as to what exactly to grant him, as per the request.  

Strangers or friends?

 Of late I'm reading up interesting inspiring or odd stories in the news.  I never liked politics - never do! So I gladly skip the political section.  But the odd bits that occasionally pop up in mainstream media about unusual or heartwarming stories, I gladly read.  

One such was this one on BBC: The wedding crasher mystery solved after four years

It is a story of a young couple, reviewing the photos of their wedding, come across a stranger in attendance. Being a close knit event with family and friends only invited for the occasion, they couldn't identify the man.  The bride particularly felt she needed to uncover his identity and after four years did manage to discover that the man attending their wedding was a total stranger; but accidentally at their wedding, instead of another wedding happening at a nearby venue.  This man was given the wrong address and realised that he was at the wrong venue, only on seeing the bride - the only person whom he knew in the intended wedding he wished to be present!  

As I read this story, I couldn't but laugh.  In Scotland - as it would be in most of Europe, I guess - weddings and such events are attended only by invitation, that too very selected few. To find a stranger would mean they are wedding crashers!  And just like in this story, easy to identify, as 'not invited' - though may be difficult to identify them in real life.  But in India, if one were to even try to identify all those who attend a wedding, a lifetime would be totally inadequate even to mark someone as a wedding crasher!  Not to mention anything about actual wedding crashers. 

First of all our families and friends circle are so big and wide, any new face could very well be a first cousin or the better half of my best friend! So when one invites someone close to oneself for an event, that invited person inviting another one or two or more is not taken offence at or unexpected.  The more the merrier is the mantra!  In such a scenario, total strangers are also welcome!  That's the other aspect of celebrations in India - everyone is welcome!  Very rarely is a guest thrown out, merely because he or she is a stranger or he or she hasn't been invited. On the contrary, strangers becoming friends at such events is not uncommon!! Such is the adventurous life in India! 

Hospital ministry!

 Yesterday I was in the hospital, not for myself but to assist someone.  Not that I made any special effort or anything to assist the person, but I merely behaved and treated the other as if she was perfectly fine.  

Just the usual chat. Normal everyday topics. Nothing to remind her about the ongoing treatment that necessitated her presence in the hospital the whole day.  

I think the best part was to listen to the other. Just plain listening. Not that I was expected to give any grand remedies or responses, but a simple outpouring - non-judgemental and confidential. 

In short, another day of ministry! 

Cow politics

 Here's a well written piece on the cow... an animal considered sacred in Indian politics (more than in religion!). I'm not sure if the article will continue to be available for long. Hence I've copied excerpts of it here, after the title of the article. The author is Abhishek Chakraborty. Originally published here on News abp LIVE (read on 9 September 2025).

The article is fairly balanced without taking any political sides: BJP or Congress.  But fairly exposes the way the cow - and for that matter, anything - can be turned into a political tool. The title of the article sums it all up! 

'Gau' Is 'Mata' Only When Breed Is Indian. The Foreign Jersey Cow Is Another Story In Politics

(Source: MSN 9 September 2025)

 

The Jersey cow holds a curious place in Indian political rhetoric — a symbol of both dairy prosperity and pointed political insults. BJP leaders, including Prime Minister Narendra Modi, have not shied away from turning this breed into a quirky metaphor for Opposition figures, despite the Hindu reverence for cows as "mother". 

Cow: Mother Or Insult? Politicians, Please Decide 

In the colourful menagerie of Indian politics, hardly anything is sacred — not even the 'sacred' cow. Prime Minister Narendra Modi notoriously referred to Sonia Gandhi as a "Jersey cow" in 2004 and Rahul Gandhi as a "hybrid calf," a jab at his parentage (Italian mother, Indian father) during his early election campaigns in Gujarat. 

From Channel Islands To Indian Fields And... Politics 

Before it became political ammo, the Jersey cow revolutionised Indian dairies. Bred on the British Channel Island of Jersey, the breed was imported to India to boost local milk yields, especially after the White Revolution in the 1970s. 

Why did Jersey cows fit in so well? They are small, hardy, adapt to local climates, and — most importantly — pump out creamy, high-fat milk that's perfect for making all things buttery and decadent. Indian farmers find them more profitable, and the breed's early maturity and high fertility ensure a steady stream of income. 

Jersey cows contributed to India's White Revolution, or 'Operation Flood', primarily through cross-breeding with native breeds to increase milk yield and improve milk quality, producing richer milk with higher fat and protein content. So it should not be an insult, right? 

The problem lies in the "foreign" origin. Even though the breed has made India its home, it is still not the 'gau mata' Indian Hindus have come to revere. At least, the political 'insults' seem to prove that. 

The Political Moo-d — Then And Now 

The cow in India is used in a lot of contexts today. Sometimes it is used to denote a naive and simple person, at others, it becomes a rebuke to call someone stupid and a good-for-nothing. No demarcation of native or foreign breed there. But, how did the Jersey cow morph from livestock to linguistic sledgehammer? Maybe it's just too tempting — a breed that represents both economic success and foreignness. 

In India, the sacred cow is never to be insulted, but a Jersey cow? She's fair game for wordplay, even as her "native" cousins get garlanded. 

Clearly, whether it's Congress or BJP, the cow — Jersey or native — is an instrument of politics. None is ready to commit to a ban on its slaughter, but none is ready to advocate beef either. But perhaps, the native cow commands a tad more respect. 

Whether in the cowshed or in the political arena, the cow rules the headlines and will continue to do so for a long time to come.

The 12 apostles - common folk

 The British judiciary has a style of functioning that whenever there is a trial, as part of the process 12 people are randomly chosen to be part of the jury.  Of course, not any 12 but those residential in the country (perhaps even the same county) and those who have been part of the British culture, or grown up in Britain since 13 years of age.  

Anyway, those criteria apart, there is no other qualification that decides whether they are part of the jury or not. They need not be holding prestigious positions in the society or specialists in law, leave alone be highly education. Mere common folk! 

The Jury, by John Morgan

In his essay "The Twelve Men", dealing with this British jury system, G. K. Chesterton wrote: "Whenever our civilization wants a library to be catalogued, or a solar system discovered, or any other trifle of this kind, it uses up its specialists. But when it wishes anything done which is really serious, it collects twelve of the ordinary men standing around… The same thing was done, if I remember right, by the Founder of Christianity!”

Jesus too chose 12 men, all 'ordinary men standing around'... but it is interesting also to note, that it was those men standing around HIM; not total strangers.  Those 12 were already his disciples. 

To be prepared or not to be?

 In the Gospel one reads Jesus warning his disciples to be single minded about following him.  The one who puts his hand to the ploughshare does not look behind.  At the same time he speaks of the need to be prepared.  

I gather it is a question of balancing. And most importantly, clarifying motives.  The purpose!  We wash our clothes and iron them - not because we love our clothes, or that the clothes need to look neat and tidy.  But because we wish to be seen as neat and tidy!  To want the clothes to look spic and span is a good thing; but the primary purpose and goal is to look good ourselves!  

It is the same with the whole question of discipleship.  It is not about hating people, in order to love God.  But loving God above every person.  What is common and necessary is the aspect of love. And if we genuinely love God - or people - we tend to genuinely love everyone else as well. 

Fervent prayers

 I'm just back from the Parish Mass.  As I sat silently after the recessional hymn (and the litany of prayers recited by some!), I could not but notice the number of women going around the various statues in the Church.  They would stop at each statue, touch its feet, say a prayer and move on.  This is a very very regular phenomenon one gets to view in practically any Church in India.  

However, what I noticed today - and most of the times - is the devotion and fervour with which these ladies were doing this 'rite'.  As they bowed their head in prayer, touching the feet of the statue, their minds and hearts were uttering a fervent prayer.  That fervour is all too evident on their faces.  Some even in desperation.  One cannot but feel it.  Witnessing this particular scene is no less spiritually enriching than any prolonged spiritual reading! 

And I can safely bet that atleast 95% of these prayers are for their own families, especially their children!  

Ronald Menezes SDB

 Today is the death anniversary of Fr Ronald Menezes, a Salesian Priest from Mumbai.  I was in the same community as he in the year 2003 at Matunga.  I was a student then, studying outside the community or the Salesian educational institutions.  

I remember him for his gentle ways of keeping all of us in the community together.  He was a hard worker and expected everyone also to contribute their mite in keeping the works going on smoothly. One of his most striking features was his enthusiasm. He was always optimistic and enthused about life.  That was really contagious.  Be it among the confreres, the school teachers, people who came to the Shrine, or even the boys in the campus. 

He was always present in his rectors office which was in the school building.  Every school day morning, he would be at the entrance of the primary section greeting children and parents - always in his cassock.  He was such a familiar figure among the tiny tots that one day one of them walked up to him and said, 'Your mummy is at the gate!' Ronnie was shocked.  (His parents were long deceased). Looking at his face the boy realised that he didn't believe him. So the little one took Ronnie's hand and dragged him to the entrance.  And whom does Ronnie see there?  A nun, in a habit!  The little one had linked the 'matching clothes' and figured out that the one in the habit would be the mother of the one in a cassock!

I most appreciated his love and care of the boarders.  We then had nearly 60 boys with us in the Matunga boarding.  And he knew each of the boys, their family background and their strengths and weaknesses.  It was he who warmly exhorted us, three Brothers, to visit the homes of the boys during the holidays.  We went grudgingly.  But that one visit to the homes of the boys, made a big difference for our relationship with the boys.  When the boys returned to the boarding, most of them had a totally different outlook towards us.  They saw us Brothers as friends and relatives, who knew their families, their homes, their real living condition.  They didn't have to put on masks because we knew their real condition, and didn't treat them any different or less because of that.  

Ronnie was also very good in relating to people and roping them in to assist in the various works of the boarding or school.  He was keen that we three Brothers meet him every month.  And he was keen that we keep him abreast of our reading material and progress.  I think that was because he himself was an avid reader.  It was evident from his sermons and reflections.  

Anyway, I was blessed to have him as the Rector of the community when I was in Matunga.  And today, I thank God for him, in a special way.  

At Dharmasagar, Warangal

 Today was the funeral of Gagarapu Anil's dad - Mr Gagarapu Adam. It was in his hometown of Dharmasagar, in Warangal.  The death was all of a sudden.  Two of Anil's sisters were inconsolable.  

This is the second time that I visited Dharmasagar.  The first time was more than 20 years ago while at Karunapuram.  I distinctly remember going to the place for a cycle picnic from Karunapuram.  Don't remember much of the place, the village or the Church, except one sharp turn on the road.  There was an old temple in a very dilapidated shape then, just near that sharp and narrow turn.  Today I didn't see any temple at that location. 

I liked the Parish Church very much.  Very brightly lit up but natural sunlight and refreshingly well ventilated, with plenty of windows.  The sanctuary is also well lit up with sunlight streaming in from above.  Very spacious, inside and outside as well. 

Measuring tapes, sewage pipelines and philosophy

 Three years ago, I was asked to take up this task of being the Economer of the Province.  At first when told, it did not make any sense to me.  All my Salesian life I was being prepared and had been working in the formation line, that too teaching Philosophy.  Now all of a sudden, one is asked to take up a task, which is astronomically miles away from teaching philosophy! 

The first time that the actual reality of taking on a totally different responsibility hit me was when measuring land at Mallepally.  Thathi was still around. It was not even a month after taking charge and both of us were at Mallelpally, assisting in the land survey.  While assisting, at one point, it was just Thathi and myself at one end of the measuring tape and he smiled. When asked what that smile meant, he replied, "Instead of a chalk you are now holding a measuring tape!" Of course, he was kidding and he knew the context even before his tenure as the Provincial. 

Even this morning was a crude reminder of the same 'change of line'. It struck me that the toilet pipeline of the second floor need not come down right to the ground level and run under the basement of the dining hall and kitchen to exit at the other end of the building.  Now that there evidently is some issue with its free flow, why break our head (again) digging up and investigating that 'underground' pipeline.  Why not run the sewage pipe along the first floor parapet and get it down at the other end of the building.  There is no toilet or bathroom on that side of the building, neither on the ground floor nor on the first floor!! 

And I said to myself, what lovely philosophical thoughts are these!!! 

That said, I hold no regrets! Being a Salesian has helped me see the great value of diversity and the utility of being a jack of all trades! 

The relic of Don Bosco

 In my office I have two first degree relics of Don Bosco.  A biretta worn by Don Bosco. And half a brick from the bedroom of Don Bosco's room, at Becchi I guess. 

The biretta is worn and torn - hence needs no other verification to state that it was used by Don Bosco!!  Both these relics have been encased in a glass box.  

Usually we build a wall or room around a glass case. But in this case we have a glass case around a brick!  

Jokes apart, this particular encased set has been in my office since the time I took charge three years ago.  In fact, when I took charge, there were several religious articles in the office, which I reverently handed over to my predecessor or found a new devotee to take them in.  The only thing that 'somehow' stayed back in the office is this particular set of relics.  

When some people visit my office and they ask what it is, and hear me say what it is, they are quite taken up.  It is only at these moments that I realise the worth of these relics.  For the rest of the time, they sit in the corner of room and I carry on my work, totally oblivious of their existence in the same room. 

Nonetheless, I am beginning to realise and appreciate their presence and come to believe that Don Bosco himself is present, in a way, with me, assisting me to carry on my weird task and responsibility.  Or else, how does one explain a lecturer of philosophy handling finance and administration at this wide and large scale!  Although relegated to a corner and barely noticed or even consciously revered, I suppose these relics - and through them, Don Bosco himself - is in a way guiding and leading me. That's quite a morale booster and immense source of strength. 

Pathetic government websites

 In the last month of August, for various reasons and at different times, I had to access the national websites.  Gosh, most of these websites were a nightmare, even to login; leave alone upload or download anything worthwhile! 

One of them is the one that foreign nationals need to use to register (or allied services) when they land in India and are to stay for anything other than tourist purposes.  I spent half a day (more than 6 hours!!) just to complete and upload an application, while assisting a youngster from Germany, who is here as a volunteer.  It was not about the internet speed, but everything about the website itself that just drags you on without helping you get on with it.  Logging in required an OTP.  That never came through.  So I had to register myself with all my Indian details - just to get an OTP.  Once we were able to sign in, uploading documents was another nightmare.  Clicking the browse and selecting file was one game of cat and mouse.  And when we did manage to bell the cat, the 'upload' button would be hidden behind the file preview!! To access the 'upload' icon, we had to get rid of the file!! Imagine doing this for a dozen documents.  

Then the instructions all along are nothing but a bunch of jokes!!  Of course, at that moment of frustration, jokes don't go down well!  At one point, the guidelines say, if a particular document is uploaded, then this letter is not to be uploaded.  But when you complete the process and reach the submit threshold, the submit icon does not get activated till that file which was earlier stated as redundant is uploaded!  And so begins the whole process, all over again!! 

The comedy of the matter is when some documents are totally unavailable and explicitly stated as not needed and yet one has to upload those files.  Well, Indian as I am, got around this, by uploading a random pdf file!!  Just a blank while page, saved as a pdf.  That got accepted and I could proceed to the next level!  

The same website had a scrolling banner which stated that a new website has been launched.  Clicking on that link led to a bit more decent looking website.  But my hopes for a faster and easier task were dashed when the whole website, which explains things in detail, but has no links or icons to actually do the work of uploading and submitting the application!  

As I struggled with this particular website, I could not but wonder what on earth would foreigners be thinking of our 'advanced IT claims' when they land in India and have to wade through such horrific websites, just to register themselves. 

Albi Ya Albi (Nancy Ajram)

 The great month of September, let me begin with a lovely Arabic song that I came across a couple of days ago... thanks to Kalam Eineh, the earlier Arabic/Egyptian song, that has really caught my ears and heart). 

This one is by Nancy Ajram, titled Albi Ya Albi (My heart, oh my heart!)... another love song, with soothing music and apt lyrics too! 

My heart oh my heart, leave me oh my heart 

It's not the right time to fall in love again

I can't now and I can't do anything about it

I don't know what happened to my heart

May be I loved you, you were the taste of love

...