Efforts count

 

Sometimes we make returning harder than getting lost.

And some want to ever stay lost.

But anyone making efforts, even without achieving success, is truly eligible for support and accompaniment.

Reliving Kondadaba experiences

 This afternoon I reached Kondadaba, a place where I lived and worked for three years.  The place is the same.  The town of Kothavalasa is the same!  Of course, miss the adventure of pushing the bike under the railway crossing barricades.  With the underpass in place, no such adventures or risks!! The shops on either side of the main road both in the town centre and on the way to Kondadaba are still the same - rickety, stacked close and packed to the brim!  

Rajapatrunipalem has indeed expanded towards Kondadaba.  And Gollelapalem too seem to have come closer to the Seminary! The seminary, as such, remains exactly the same.  Of course, a few of the huge old mango trees are gone within the campus.  The circular drive has more potholes than ever.  And the number of students is a meagre 26.  

Walking around the campus I was recollecting the three glorious years I spent here.  It was tough.  But very VERY fulfilling apostolate, especially among the diocesan Brothers.  This place is quite close to my heart for a couple of reasons: 

• the dedicated staff of the place - like none other.  No where else in the Province have I seen such dedication.  Of course, there are individuals who are all for the apostolate, but in general, each one of the staff being fully for the institution, I noticed it here at Kondadaba
• I did my first year of practical training here.  I distinctly still remember the first class I took after I finished my MPh at Nashik, here in Kondadaba.  It was on the drive - since that first day of class there was no electricity.  I was handling Indian Philosophy.  I had prepared well.  And I did deliver a good lecture as well.  But half way through the class I could not but notice the look on the faces of the Brothers.  They were all lost.  That's when I stopped and promised them - and myself - that I'd teach for them to learn, not just for myself to teach!  I'll never forget that first experience of teaching a philosophy class. 
• The next time I came to Kondadaba was as Dean of studies and eventually was asked to take up administration as well.  That year was tough. Crisis in the community.  Lack of financial resources.  Short on teaching personnel.  But the three of us Salesians were hard working and passionate.  We were with the Brothers round the clock.  The Brothers too gave their very best in every field.  That year was truly a memorable experience - very very tough but highly satisfactory and meaningful.  Riding on that experience and of later years, I grew in the conviction that more the difficulties and challenges, the greater the opportunities to grow and carve out meaning.  The greater the comforts, the lessor the growth.  

Disappearing names

 More than a decade ago, when cell phone GPS and Google maps were not so prevalent, getting directions to reach a place or even to identify the location one found oneself at, during the course of a journey was a not so complicated procedure. 

The time-tested approach of asking a passerby or an auto-rickshaw guy for directions was the most reliable one.  I did not travel much but all I needed to know where I have reached during the journey involved merely looking out at the town or city shops.  The name board, besides the prominent display of the name of the shop, also contained the full address.  Practically most shops had the address of the locality, clearly printed and displayed.  Not any more!! 

Over the years, I've tried to had recourse to my old habit of looking out of a moving vehicle to read the address on the shop name boards - all in vain.  There are hardly a few, spread far and wide, who actually print out or display the name of the locality and the address of the location on their name boards.  Added to that my deteriorating eye sight makes things all the more difficult for me to read, even the few who display the location names.  

Sarabaites, Landlopers and Gyrovagues

 This evening for our reading we were reflecting on an article by Mahimai Dass on sheep becoming shepherds, in the context of the Salesian history.  Boys who grew up at the Oratory of Don Bosco went on to become the cornerstones of the Salesian congregation.  It did not happen by chance.  This was something Don Bosco made happen.  Rather than look for people from outside to assist his work, he built up his followers from within his boys.  But interestingly Don Bosco was very VERY clear about the purpose of the congregation: NOT to carry further his works, but the salvation of one's own soul!! 

Don Bosco was very clever and astute. He was well aware and deeply conscious that he did not initiate his activities in response to a need, but to a call!  He was only responding to a divine invitation directed towards the poor young.  Without that divine dimension, he would have done some good, but not the great wonders he achieved - some of which still continue to unfold!  

However, what struck me most was the concluding part of the article: Some Salesians have nothing of the Salesian spirit!!! The whole point of being eager to ensure that our names are recorded not just in the Province directory, not even in the necrology, but in heaven!!  In this context and in the light of some confreres getting on my nerves in the last couple of days (purely because of their lethargy and absolute laziness - and 'acting' sick), I couldn't agree more with that statement of some Salesians have absolutely no Salesian spirit.  Leave alone Salesian spirit, they have neither the religious spirit nor do they make the least effort at acquiring the human spirit!  

Interestingly St Benedict too was plagued by some such characters, whom he called Sarabaites and Landlopers and Gyrovagues. The Sarabaites were those monks who followed no Rule.  They lived in their own world, and believed that what they lived by as the values. The gratification of their desires was law unto them.  Whatever they chose, they called holy. The Gyrovagues were the wanderers.  Never settling down. Always on the move.  Whom Fr Albert Johnson, during his recent retreat talk, referred to as 'mayors' (a spin off on the Tamil word for 'grazers'). Never for any in depth or substantial effort.  Merely skimming the surface.  

Dry humour

 I was reminded of a word which I haven't used in my conversations or writings for a long long time... although, those who know me will confirm that this is what I engage in often: dry humour! 

Those who get it right, it makes a big impression.  To those who don't really get it, the expression appears as if the speaker has made a vague statement - totally inconsequential and bland. In short, it is an art! 

The lethargic!

 What to do if a member of the province or the community is living off on the sweat and blood of the benefactors and others in the community, contributing not an iota but sapping all energy and resources, and still feeling that others should be more sensitive to him?  

My simple and direct answer: Set his arse on fire! Time and again! 

The womb and the tomb

 Today as we commemorate all the deceased, we thank God for their presence and influence in our lives. 

 Last night I read a rather interesting analogy to the whole notion of death, as viewed from the Christian perspective.  Death is viewed as the parting of the twins in the womb.  For the one still in the womb, watching his/her twin leave the womb is a sad moment of separation.  The one left behind feels lonely, abandoned, especially after spending months together, in such proximity.  However, what he/she does not know is that there is a whole new life awaiting his/her twin outside.  Moreover, he/she will soon be united with the sibling. Life is not ended, but there is only a change of mode. 

Our whole life does not end here on earth, but through death and resurrection, continues to be in a different realm and mode.  

That's one analogy people can relate to and understand! 

Sanctity

The feast of all Saints reminds us of all those who have been canonised AND all those who have made valiant efforts, but not yet recognised or forgotten.  Without the latter, the commemoration loses its essence.  Not often does every act of kindness or every deed towards goodness gets recognised.  That does not negate its occurrence or existence! 

Most genuine acts of virtue often go unnoticed or unheard of.  All those behind those repeated acts of virtue are indeed saints, even if no one notices or writes or speaks about them.  

Then, of course, there is the actual challenge of this feast...

Learning of the day: PS/2 devices

 Learning of the day: 

On a rather old computer/desktop, if you are connecting a PS/2 device, the BIOS will recognise it only at the time of boot.  So if you connect the device after the system has booted, the system will not recognise the device. Unlike USB devices which are detected immediately after insertion, the PS/2 devices are recognised only at the boot/reboot. 

So if you are testing a PS/2 device (keyboard or mouse) make sure it is already connected before you push the power button. 

Not a random photo, but a memory

 This morning Mummy posted a photo of the neighbouring paddy field.  The field is owned by a school and they use it to cultivate crops and this time round they cultivated paddy. Every other day one class of students are brought to the field and they get to 'get their hands dirty'! Literally.  Children get to do some sort of gardening or farming.  Of course, it is anyone's guess that they create more of a mess than any great help.  But at least it does offer them the possibility of engaging with the mud, the grass, the crops, ground water... They see for themselves and learn that rice does not grow in the supermarket.  Or that tomatoes and chillies automatically appear in the fridge.  

However, this morning when I saw the photo of that paddy field, it struck me: Mummy did not send it to me - which she usually does. Rather she posted it on the family group.  And there was a string of likes.  Out of curiosity I checked who are all those who sent in a 'like'.  I noticed that it was all her siblings and immediate cousins or in-laws.  

I know that that sight, the view of a lush paddy field floods her mind with memories.  All childhood memories.  Her love for gardening and all related matters is purely her way of staying connected with her own childhood and family.  She grew up in a farming household. She and her siblings have worked all their childhood in the fields.  They have seen their parents and elders all engage and live out of the hard work in the fields.  The sight of the paddy brings back to her all those memories.  And the same for her siblings.  Hence it is they who appreciate that field most.  They know what it means for the paddy to appear so. What it entails. The hours of toil. The days and nights of careful watching and observance.  The constant presence in the field.  The feel of the slush, of the grain stalks, of the mud, of the tools. 

The next generation of us have had none of it!  Hence her sharing that photo in her family group makes most sense than sharing it with me because that photos means a whole lifetime for them.  For me, it is just another any random photo!