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Cultural transformation

It was a month back that an 18 year old girl, from a middle income household, who was seen by my colleague in the OPD was brought to me for second opinion. Unwell with profuse watery diarrhoea for many years, she was anaemic edematous, and quite sick. The parents seemed to be a disengaged from the condition she was in. A quick history and evaluation led us to think about a protein losing enteropathy and or malabsorption, leading to anaemia and hypoproteinaemia. In the conversation with my colleague, the girl told that her younger brother was quite sick and had underwent intestinal surgery at Lucknow. A possibility of a rare genetic disease crossed our mind, and we advised them admission for evaluation. The parents had not given this history at all. A colonoscopy done next day, confirmed our diagnosis, of “Polyposis Coli”, and I was now to talk to the father about the only option for the disease being colostomy and intestinal resection. As I started talking to him first question I

Re-visiting batch of 1978

I remember my early years in the Medical college where I studied. We had Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Atheists all under the same roof. We knew where each one was in terms of their religion and faith. But it never mattered. What mattered was, we were the batch of 1978. We are still the batch of 1978. My roommate was a Hindu and a Marxist. Yes we had our share of politics, but that was in line with the dominant political movements of those times, but never in the name of religion. Some of us who were not happy with the dominant political movements, remained apolitical and that was respected by the politically active. Some of us were strong in their religious faiths. I being one such example. But that never reduced our friendship or relationships in any way.  We respected each other’s faith and beliefs and gave space for that.   I did not even know the caste of any one - nor do I know till today! I remember five of us deciding to go on a tour. This tour took us to a Christian Missi

Prophetic life

What does it mean to live with a “Prophetic Life Style” for us today? It means to have a ‘Prophetic Imagination; and allow that imagination to influence our life. What were the aspects of this imagination that influenced the life of prophets? One – Life perspectives. They lived in three domains of life simultaneously. In the past, the present and the future. They had reflective remembrances from the past. They had a revealed recognition of the present. They had based on the previous two, renewed responses for the future. They reminded themselves on the past stories of their community and nation. God’s purposes for them as community, His promises, His provision and protection in the past, the precepts He had given them. They had revelation of the current context – based on God in action in the current context and understanding of God’s heart. They had a renewed understanding of what God was going to do in the future, based on their reflections of past and revela

Reflecting on fathers….

When I was growing up, I do not remember having had a day to remember my father. There were no Father’s Day or Mother’s Day. Or in one sense not many “remembrances days”. Especially in the dominant culture we are part of and even in other cultures, there are a few remembrance days, to remind yourselves of what has happened in the past and how this past should influence your present and future. Time to remember, reflect, and reorient your lives based on these past experiences. Remembering great leaders of the past, reminding yourselves of their lives etc also are part of many traditions. But about your father and mother, one was not expected to have a day to remember them! You were to remember them every day. As long as you are with them, there is no way but to remember them. But even when you are away, because of what you are is due to them, (after God of course) you would remember them every day. Even after they are gone I do not think there is a day when I do not remember them.

How shall we then live

I Chronicles 12;32 talks about “the sons of Issachar, men who understood the times, with knowledge of what Israel should do, their chiefs were two hundred; and all their kinsmen were at their command.” The question that should be in the top of our agenda as leaders of Indian churches, institutions, organizations, parachurches and networks be, do we have a core group of men and women, who understand the times and discern what the church in India should do? The context is fast changing, and most of us who are keeping their eyes above the routine lives we live cannot but see the fast changes. Much is being written about the changes and so this short write up is not to dwell on the same. But to high light some key changes – the ardent religious nationalism, the arrogance of power, the corporatization of services or almost everything, the side-lining of the minorities and the people in the lower socio economic and caste communities are quite visible. The question that we should be grappl

Sandwiched Saturdays

The Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday is the sandwiched one. Sandwiched between the sorrow of the loss and the resurrection the next day. A friend of ours asked this question today. “In some church traditions, today is called 'Holy Saturday'. It is mainly remembered as the day where Jesus' body was in the grave. Many others believe while is body was still in the tomb, His spirit was alive. For the disciples, Jesus' mother Mary and other followers of Jesus it must have been a day of silent mourning. They must have remembered fondly the experiences of the years; must have been a day of fear. They were not expecting the resurrection... so they were getting ready with the spices for the body. Wonder what they would have done differently, if they had believed Jesus' words about His resurrection?” Reflecting on this I was doing rounds on this sandwiched Saturday and the day before. I realized that for most hospitalized people stay in the hospital is like

Women's days

I started writing this (in my mind) on Women’s day. I wanted the first story as a celebration story for women’s day. But as usual, many good intentions, this fell on the way side but I am thankful that it was not forgotten. The story has grown from one into stories multiple women, and a one good man. It was almost 2 months back when I saw this girl PK, first. When I saw her, she was deeply comatose, on ventilator, with history of “Hexaconazole” poisoning. She was 14, and looked much younger than that. Somehow the clinical presentation did not fit in with the diagnosis. The family from a very poor background, had no idea what happened other than that there was an empty bottle of Hexaconazole lying around. We met with the father who was all in tears and said, she is his “apple of eye” in the local Bhojpuri equivalent, and pleaded with us, to make her well. I was not at all sure if she would make it. Deeply comatose, running high fever, with extensive aspiration pneumonias, no respir