I wish I could...

It was so perfect! It was so beautiful. I do not have any words to describe it. I was lost. I do not remember when was the last time I felt so lost.

I was studying…doing something serious …trying to do parallel study between two Gospels. My room was pretty cold. The door and windows were closed. Heating machine was on. Tagore songs were being played. Wonderful words…every word was touching me. The music was helping me to concentrate more. At one point I could hear the sounds of rain. I opened the windows. It was raining. From my window I could see the dome of the church of Jesus. In fact I could see one side of the entire Church. As I paid more attention I saw some birds were hiding in the different hols of the Church building. They all wanted to escape the rain. They have found a save haven in the house of God. How lucky they were! I wish I could I have been like birds…for a moment If I could also hide in the wings of God…Gazing at the sky I was lost…but it gave me joy, hope and peace…

At Christmas...

Part 1: "Christmas is at my heart!"

When João said ‘Christmas is at my heart,’ I stopped for a while. It was in the middle of our light conversation when he said that. We were returning from our classes and we were just happened to be together. João, my companion and my first friend (I never told him that!) from Europe, whom I call ‘goof’.

Why do I pray?

Years back once I was asked to address a group of young people on the importance of prayer. Before the talk I was told that these young people whom I was about to talk were living a life far from the Church teachings. The organizer had asked me to use a secular language to say something about prayer. Thus I had to be very careful about the use of language. I began with a story-a story very real and touching. They seemed to have liked it. Then I asked them if they could live without prayer. All of them answered 'yes.' They said that they did not go to the Church, they did not recite the Rosary but they were living a happy life. At this point, I asked them what they would do just before exams, or if their dear ones would have met with an accident. They said that they would remember God. Then I said that was a prayer. Prayer does not mean going to the Church or reciting the Rosary. Prayer is a union with God. Immediately I could sense a 'change.' I carried on with my topic. At the end, I was surprised to notice that all of them agreed that they did pray!

Why do I still love the Catholic Church?

(Last summer I had many occasions to meet a lot of young people from different countries. During my interactions with them I had to deal topics like, why I do want to become a priest? Why I became a Jesuit? Why do I still love the Church….and many more why. Here I tried to put in writing some of my thoughts which I shared with them. These are to be treated as my personal opinions)

I left him without…

Many of friends check Google map, bus number and weather forecast when they need to go somewhere. I usually leave without any preparation. I have many guides and they are ‘my countrymen’. There are lot of Bangladeshi living and working (!) in Rome. Often I get talk to them. Especially when I go out with my non-Bangladeshi/Indian friends, my countrymen come to me and talk. They often think I am having a great job here. They tell me their problems and at the end ask for a job. One thing I must say that they never ask for money. Just work!

Rashed is one of them. A few days ago on a fine evening I went out for a walk with a friend. Rashed was selling flowers at the Piazza Popolo. Rashed, aged 20, quite handsome and smiling face. “Dada life is tough here” he said “why did I come here? My father sold the property and gave me money to come here. Now I cannot survive myself here, how could I send money for my poor parents?”

This is not the first time I heard such stories. But the innocent face of Rashed touched me. I understand his pain! I had nothing to offer him except few words of consolation. I left him without…

Am I...?

She talked while I listened. We spent almost two hours. I tried my best to give her full attention. She poured out all her sufferings. She narrated how she was being misunderstood. Many raised questions about her relationship with others. She was not given any importance…As she was talking I could feel the mental agony she was going through.


But at the end she said something beautiful. She said, “I learnt from all these problems that I should not be the cause of other’s problems.”

She left…but she left a thought to think over, ‘am I the cause of other’s problems?’

The language of ‘love’

Last few days I was trying to pen something for my blog. I had thought of different topics and even began to pen. But unfortunately I could not put an end. I had to give up! Why? I asked myself! Perhaps the pressure of study, struggle of languages (as recently I added Latin!) or may be a bit homesick…