Life is a game!

The entire building of Gesu (my community) is square shape. Thus from my room I can see the other part of the building. We young Jesuits (those who are in formation) stay in side and other side is being used by the senior Jesuits. These senior Jesuits, after many years of service and active ministry are sent here for rest and prayer. From my window I can see windows of their rooms. Sometimes when the curtains are put aside I can even see their rooms, their movements. In the morning I usually open the window just to get the fresh air. Sometimes I see nuns and male nurses taking care of them. I often wonder that they must have helped so many people in their lifetime! I also think that one day I will have to move to other side. It may not be this very house but another community of Jesuits where senior Jesuits reside. This might take 30years, 40 years, 50 years or even more. But I will have to move and this is the reality.

The space between our block and the other side is being used as th basketball court. Basketball and sometimes football is being played here. I often consider this basketball court is my life. Within another two years I will have to put myself in this court. As in the game there is lose and victory, in my life too there will be success and failure, sorrows and happiness. There will be moment when people will praise me and again there will be moment when they condemn. But I will have to play this game. Life is really a game and it depends how do we play this game…!

How well do you know him?

Recently I was asked to give my opinion about one of my companions with whom I had lived a couple of years. I had to follow a set of questions. The very first question was- ‘how well do you know him?’ When I saw it I thought I know him sufficiently well as we lived together and have had many sweet memories. But then as I proceeded further I found it very difficult to continue. I had to give a pause. I thought for a while. I asked myself if some of my friends are asked to give their opinions about me with all these questions how many of them will be able to give!

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…