Ma (mother), I love you!

(a recent photo with my mother)

This morning after the breakfast I went to wish ‘happy Mother’s day’ to two of our co-workers, both women. They had forgotten that today was the mother’s day. I wished them, exchanged a few words and then returned to my room. As I was climbing up to my room, for a moment I remembered my mother. Like all other mothers, she is also very special to me. I felt she was walking with me, talking to me holding my hand…

When I was growing, the financial situation of my family was not very good. My mother had to be very cautious about spending money. With the limited salary of my father, she had to manage the entire family- our food, dress, medicine, education... Everyday she would serve food for all of us. She would eat only when we were all fed well. Often I would notice that she would take puffed-rice (a typical home made food, people would eat whenever one cannot effort to have rice) with rice. Many a times I had asked her, why she preferred to take puffed rice, in seated of taking rice? She would reply that puffed-rice increase the taste of the meal. It was much later one day I discovered that whenever there was less rice she would take puffed-rice. She would always feed us well and then she would eat very less…

When I was in the novitiate, my novice director came to visit my family. The first question, my mother asked him was: “does Ripon listen to you?” My novice director was surprised. He came and narrated to all of us only Ripon’s mother asked, “Does Ripon listen to you”, while other asked, “How is my son? How is his health?”

Some times we do not notice sacrifices our mothers make. Often they are unnoticed. Perhaps ‘mother’s day’ is a good occasion to be aware of their sacrifices and tell to them, “Ma, we love you!”

I too have a heart!

I knew him from my association with the community of San’Egido in Rome. Once a week I spend sometime with this community to reach out to most needy and poor people in Rome, who stay on the streets. We talk to them and distribute necessary material things. By now I became friendly with some of them and talk to them whenever I meet them. Georgo (named changed) is one of them.  Whenever I meet him, he narrates to me some interesting stories of his profession. He goes around Rome, often in the crowded public bus and steals things from others.

The other day I had to go to Vatican. As soon as got into the bus I saw Georgo. We saw each other and exchanged a smile. I knew he was on his mission and tried to follow his movements. But it was quite obvious that my presence was a hindrance for him. He remained at one corner of the bus and in fact was looking at me again and again. When I got down from the bus, he too followed me. I wished him ‘good luck’ for his work and asked him not to steal from the poor and old people. To my great surprise he told me, “I never steal anything from Asian or African people. They are poor people come here to earn some money. And even if I get any documents or certificates I send them to the owners. I too have a heart.”

The last sentence of Georgo touched me. I looked at face. There was sadness on his face. Perhaps for the first time, I saw something very special on his face. A face that speaks his innocence! A face that shows that he is also son of God! I discovered a new Georgo. I gave a smile and left him.

In life we often judge people based on their profession, external out-look, social statues etc. But do we really see anyone before judging. Do we see the hidden heart- a heart full of love!

When I really paused for a while and said, "Oh Life!"

For the last three days I spent hours after hours reading the newspaper of my country. I was not reading the death news, rather I carefully read news of the person, who have almost returned from the door death. I salute them for their courage and inner strength for survival and who have took the risk of their lives and helped others. One such story was published in the Daily Star, a popular English daily newspaper of Bangladesh. This is the life story of Rikta! She has shown tremendous courage. I cannot do anything for Rikta. I may not meet her in my life time. But she has taken a place in my heart. My thoughts are with her. I reproduce the story of Rikta in my blog. This is the first time I reproduce a piece from another source. It is a way of showing my respect and salute to Rikta.  The struggle of Rikta will always remain with me, specially at a time, when I want to give up, when I do not see any meaning of life...There are many more Rikta, who wait for you and me!

                                                                  (The photo of Rikta)
Time was running out for Rikta. She was hungry and thirsty and drained. Two days had passed since she was trapped inside Rana Plaza. Nobody came.
So when somebody came yesterday morning, about 45 hours after the collapse, she first thought: “Am I still alive?”
But to remain alive she would have to suffer more: It was a group of civil rescuers who found her around 5:30am yesterday under the rubble on the third floor of the nine-storey building. Her right hand was trapped under a sewing machine.
The rescuers tried all means they could think of to pull her out. All attempts failed. So they had to improvise.
They brought a hand saw, tied both her legs and hands, held her tightly so that she could not move and then cut off her hand from above the elbow.
“I somehow managed to bear the pain when they were cutting my flesh. But when it reached my bone … I don’t know how to describe the pain,” she told The Daily Star at Enam Medical College Hospital in Savar, and then fainted.
A sewing operator, the 25-year-old was working on the third floor when the building crumbled like a pack of cards on Wednesday morning.
“It was around 8:20am. I just started sewing. Power went off and the building collapsed in no time. My right hand was trapped.”
Her battle to hold on to life began. With the entire building almost sandwiched and thick dust all around, she was suffocating. “But it was all right in the first few hours.”
But as the day wore on, she thought her heart would stop for want of oxygen. There was no air.
With time she grew hungrier and thirstier still. “I could not take it any more. So at one stage I drank my urine,” she said.
The mother of a nine-year-old son thanked the rescuers for bringing her back to her son and husband, a car driver.
According to her, it was their immediate bosses who forced them to work in the risky building. She alleged she had been even forced to work till late night every day without any weekly holiday over the past one month.
In the garment factory where she worked, she used to earn Tk 4,700 a month. But with one of her hands now gone, how she would support her family is a thought she cannot bear to think.

Whom do we belong!

I went for the Easter Vigil Mass rather late this year. Due to many unavoidable reasons, I have had a heavy day. The church was full by the time I entered into the Church. I was tired and was desperately looking for a chair. After some abortive attempts of searching for a chair, I decided to stand near the main door of the church.

The beginning part of the liturgy was rather sober. I tried to concentrate on the mystery that was being celebrated. But I was often distracted. As the readings were being read, I looked at the huge Crucifix which was placed at one corner of the Church. Looking at the Crucifix I thought of Jesus. Being a person with Divine and human nature, Jesus is hanged on the Cross alone. He could have easily avoided all his sufferings.  His twelve disciples, with whom he shared his life, left him when he was arrested. He did not complain. He accepted the will of his Father. He detached everything of this world and finally he was attached to his Father, God. What a beautiful message of detachment he showed on the Cross!

In life we sometimes tend to attach to something or someone. But can we really belong to someone or something. I do agree that we can be attached to something or someone for sometimes. All our earthly attachment will pass. Our loving parents, beloved friends, and expensive material things will not have everlasting place in our lives. We will have to be alone. We will have to detach everything. This will lead us to a unique attachment- that is our attachment to God. Jesus Christ is the perfect example of this detachment. His earthly detachment led him to an everlasting attachment to God.

Do we want to have this attachment- an attachment of God? Then let us detach ourselves from this world! 

The beauty of 'being' together-2

(We often concentrate on ‘doing’ and neglect ‘being’. In this new column I would like to ponder over some of experiences of being together. These are based on my personal experiences of different Jesuit communities, where I lived and worked!)

There are certain things I cannot forget. I can still narrate conversations, which I have had with certain people years ago, or my first meeting with someone, or particular pages of some books or a scene of a film. I consider this particular memory as my way of showing love to someone or something. Let me share a simple but significant gesture, which I had experienced in my early days of Jesuit formation.

This must have been in December, 2000. I was in Calcutta, doing Jesuit novitiate. After the Christmas, the province assembly of the Calcutta Jesuits took place in the novitiate campus. We, novices had to vacant our rooms in order to make place available for the Jesuits who would come for the gathering. We, instead, went to the villages to have pastoral experience.

When I returned to the novitiate, I found on my table a short place of folded paper with a pen. I opened the paper, which read: “this is a small gift of love for the novice who lives in this room, from Fr …..” That was a big pleasant surprise for me. I had heard the name of that particular Jesuit, but never met him in person. I was touched by this simple gesture. Those days of my ‘innocence’ it was a big thing for me. Many years I kept that particular pen with me as a remembrance.

That was a lesson for me that with a simple gesture we can win the heart of others. Perhaps often we do not notice, ‘the simple thing’ of life. Can we give a try to notice the next ‘simple thing of life’?

If there were no Good Friday!

(Flipping over the pages of my old diary, I found a garland of few words which I penned during one of my spiritual exercises. Years gone by, but thoughts still remain the same!)

Where would have been the Risen Christ?
Where would have been the Christianity?
Where would have been my existence?
If there were no Good Friday!

Good Friday was the beginning of a new beginning
Good Friday was the creating of a new history
Good Friday was making a Risen Christ
But then, if there were no Good Friday!

Good Friday is a call to rise with Him
Good Friday is a call to embrace Him
Good Friday is a call to touch Him
Good Friday is a call to fall in love with Him
But then, if there were no Good Friday!

Good Friday comes to our lives, so that we can experience the Easter Sunday!

That was enough!

13/03/2013 at 19:00!

We, eight of us along with our two formators, were waiting for a bus at the bus station. It was drizzling and rather cool breeze was blowing. All of us sudden we saw our Spiritual Father, aged 70, was approaching to us almost running. “There is white smoke” he said from rather distance, “we have a Pope.”

That was enough to changed our planned programme. We immediately got into a bus which would take us to St Peter’s Square. But bus was moving very slow, as there was heavy traffic. “Let’s go walking” said someone. ''It might take a few hours to reach Vatican with the bus and I am getting down from the bus'' said one of my formators and got down from the bus.

That was enough for all of us to get down from the bus and began to walk. We were joined by many who were almost running to reach to Vatican. It was incredible. I have never seen people running like that in Rome. The church bells began to ring.

That was enough to announce the good news. By the time we reached at the St Peter’s Square, the Square was almost filled with people. We pushed though people and went ahead as much as we could. All the eyes were fixed to the balcony, from where the new Pope would address. A great excitement of who has been elected as the new Pope. There were a few names going around. Almost an hour later, appeared a Cardinal and said, we have the new Pope and he is…! All were silent. “He is a Jesuit from Argentina” exclaimed one of my companions.

That was enough  for me to remain a standstill for a while. ‘A Jesuit pope!’ ‘How it is possible!’ ‘What a strange thing to have a Jesuit pope.’ ‘What would happen now?’… And many more comments. Then after a few minutes appeared a man, white dressed. He began to speak the language of ordinary people. He asked people to pray for him.

That was enough for the world that we a have a completly different man to guide the Church. The rest is history. He created a history. He won the hearts of all. People began to say- ‘He is different’, ‘He is so humble’, and ‘He is so simple.’

That was enough for me to appreciate my vocation  as a Jesuit. He appeared to me a man with great simplicity. He gave a message of great simplicity. His gestures invited to go deep into my vocation. It was also a 'turning point' for me as I was getting ready for diaconate ordination. I was touched...

Frankly speaking I really do not agree when people say that the world is very complicated. The world is simple. But there are some people who make it complicated. Perhaps the simple gestures of the new Pope invite us to look into our lives. Are we simple? Or are we complicating the simple thing? Was that not enough?