Post-Carnaval Trauma

The pre-carnaval-Carnaval-post-carnaval phase of my life feels like an over-twisted Tamil soap opera. The last two months, I've been finding myself in some super-drama plots. Emotional stuff kinda piled up - Betrayal, lonliness, embarrasment, doubts, anger. But the biggest heartbreak came a day after Carnaval.

Okay, Rewind. << .

The Carnaval break was great. Was away in Antonina with Ju's, a beach nearby. Learnt to swim, went fishing, caught a decently big fish, and got to know a cute Brazilian. Seems he was my neighbor but I had never seen him before! He didn't speak English. Well, actually, he didn't speak much. Just a few words when we played Monopoly and fooled around with Portuguese riddles one afternoon. But we wagered on who could stay longer inside the water. (Fine, I lost!! ) Isn't that enough to fall in love? Come on, it is.

So, here's this nice guy I overheard was 24. Was cursing myself for not having noticed him in the last 5 months and he lived just 3 houses to my left. darn me. By the way, his name is Luis. And other than the fact that he had 2 tattoos and a tongue piercing, I pretty much liked him. I thought this was the best Carnaval ever.

I returned to Curitiba, dreaming of Luis and poured out my overflowing heart to tia Sola - a distant relative of Luis' and my neighbor. Was hoping she would help me make my Brazilian future. She gave me the stats. She broke my heart.

Luis is 15. He goes to school.

Paul, I am sorry.

The first thing I want to tell Paul when I get to heaven – Paul, I am sorry. Yeah, that Paul – of Tarsus, famous from the Damascus incident and much more.

Honestly, I didn't like Paul very much until recently. I thought he was snobbish. When BeyondMadness and I were once talking about who we would want to be friends with in heaven, I said David. She picked Paul. I said I wouldn't really talk much to Paul there. He was a great person, alright, but to me he seemed to show-off too much. He had learnt a lot, knew a lot, had truckloads of influence but I thought he didn't act all that humble. A quality my superhero David had in immeasurable amounts. It always amazes me how a King could say, "Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my house that you have brought me this far?"! How could David, who killed his ten thousands, dance undignified on the streets for the Lord! How could the ruler of a nation give his choice time for God, write songs on Him and make music to Him! Wow. Define humility for me!

And so, to me, Paul was this highly educated scholar, a pompous genius with attitude tagging alongside. Do this. Don't do that. Some of you do this. Why do you do that? You are infants. Be careful. Questions. Exhortations. Commands. Huh! I thought Paul was saying all that he did, the way he did, because he thought he was much better than all those people and as if everyone else was an idiot. I didn't like the idea. I was kinda prejudiced against Paul, and hence his writings. I knew God would soon teach me the lesson I needed.

And He did. The beautiful part of my learning was not the lesson, per se, but the way He taught it.

I used to write to a friend of mine, Bruce. Bruce was very dear to me and I cared a lot about him. At times I used to write things like – Do this… don't do that… you could do this… Questions, exhortations, suggestions. I meant them to remind him of things one might tend to forget or overlook, to make sure he doesn't lose track. And many times, he would reply – "So, that's what you think of me? That I am bad? Fine, if that's what you think". I would have given anything to make him understand that it wasn't to pull his esteem down or show that I was better (Which I wasn't, BTW) that I wrote them. It was out of love, and all that I could do to keep up the "Build each other" command from Ephesians 4:29. Bruce was important to me and I took the right to tell him things. I was upset and told God that Bruce always got my intentions wrong, when God gently pointed to that corner in my mind that disliked Paul for his "Big-headedness". Felt like I was punched in the stomach. I was feeling bad that Bruce was behaving this way to me, when all the while I was doing the same to Paul. Man!

Paul was writing all that stuff in his letters coz he loved the people. He took his rights, not to boast and buff his ego but coz he cared. And I thought he was a snob. God forbid!! Man, what had I been doing? I wanted Bruce to understand my intent but I never had gotten Paul's. =/. I apologized to God and promised to change my attitude toward Paul. Well, God went ahead to open my eyes wider to Paul's life.

Guess what was the syllabus in adult Sunday school for the next two months? Paul! As we learnt about Paul and his life, I felt a deep sense of admiration growing inside of me for him. I couldn't imagine how hard it would have been for such a grand genius to give up his status, his "gethu" for the Lord and boldly choose to be persecuted for the sake of the gospel. The last class we had on Paul and we were learning from the second book of Timothy. And when we were at the place where Paul was saying what will later become a famous line – I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith – I saw tears fall on the pages but didn't care to mop my eyes. I let them fall so that if Paul was looking down, he would know how really ashamed I was of myself.

Such a great apostle, Paul. Such a great human, with such humility. God taught me my lesson in way I could never forget. And Paul is now officially my favorite writer!

And the first thing I want to tell Paul when I get to heaven – Paul, I am sorry… and er… Could you sign my new testament?

 

 

Between Nostalgia and the Not-so-algia..

Guess nostalgic feelings are pretty common if you have just relocated to a whole new place, from four years of sedation in fun and happy-go-luckiness. And I am no exception! But then, there are lots to enjoy and explore. And life is pretty easy and things are at easy access.

Buses are almost on time. People stand in queues. The seats are not broken. People don’t sit on the bus top and neither is the bus floor covered in vomit.

Roses grow over fences. Both, white Picket and wires. instead of our (spell check disabled) ‘bougainvillea’. And I guess, there are more varieties and colors of roses in three adjacent houses than in the Ooty botanical garden. Really.

This city is clean. The mayor doesn’t even know I exist or my blog. So forget bribing me. The tidiness is fact.

People are very, very friendly. Friendlier than many friends I have known.
The weather is superb. Summer has just set in. Warm days and not-so-nippy nights.. I like it.

The food is..mmm..too good I gained two kilos in 15 days! Something that Karunya couldn’t do in 4 years!!

This place is really nice, you know. I’m not sure if I wanna go back home.

But more often than not, memories flood and I feel like those are still real and happening in another part of the world and I just want to return to that sweet familiarity. Yeah,I know.. it is less credible than those space portals from the Hot Wheels movies. They are all over! Sad truth.. but..

Walking alone to the bus terminal.. How many times have I walked the college grounds with friends, cheer and laughter. There was company even to the toilet. Wow!!

Java.Oracle.Linux.Java.Eclipse.Oracle.Java. Huh! I remember the project semester. The “supervised” lab sessions when we sincerely played crosswords and that ‘tallying tables’ game. I remember Netbeans and OpenSuse. I remember the Unix labs. And the void inside everyone’s head. Including the lecturers’. How happy we all were. Wish I could relive those days. Just the same way!

Strogonoff, Baguette, Promotus, HotDogs, Pizzas. Nice food.. But it is just meat, meat and more meat everyday. I remember the mess food – Poori and Channa, that Sambar sadham with nei, Parotta-Curma, Cauliflower, Cutlet on Thursday evenings. I remember amma. She is the best cook in all the world. Wish she were here..or atleast one of those mess akkas. Sniff. Sniff.

I remember every day on the way to work, how we’d rather take the bus from CBE Junction to Karunya than spend 50 bucks on a shared taxi, back from home after holidays, once in three months. Here, my everyday bus fare is around 110 rupees! BUS FARE. EVERYDAY. DUH!

That six rupees ‘kuchi chips’ from the canteen. How many times has it been my dinner. And lunch! I happened to see a similar thing in a kutty shop here. I was so excited. Wow! Kuchi chips!!
Me: Quanto custo é isso?
ShopKeeper : Dois reais e vinte centavos. Voce quer?
Me : *Mental calculation : Twenty six twos are Fifty two..plus some six rupees.. woof!*.
(Out Loud, with a stupid smile) Não, Obrigada.
*Instructing brain : I think it’s better to wait till I get home. Will buy 10 kuchi chips packets for the same amount*.

And well, honestly, nostalgic or not-so-algic, I am waiting to get back home.

Wanna Be a Centurion!

Waking up every day to “Is this what you want to do with life?” is rather irritating. Because I know the answer but I don`t know what to do about it. And probably, I cannot do anything. ‘Coz there is nothing at all I can do without affecting a soul outside of mine, other than cutting my hair. And that’s what I did. Cut it twice in 15 days!
I lazily brush my teeth wondering why I spent four years and a huge chunk of my parents’ money on something I would come to so loathe.
Fifty minutes of my one hour travel to work, I condemn myself for having landed in this binary mess.
Eight hours of work, and every 15 minutes, I bleep on God’s reminder how I would religiously perform my duties as a community service volunteer.
I return home still figuring if I can ‘rollback’ to 2005. So, perhaps, I could make a choice I wouldn’t regret five years later.
I don’t want to spend all my life serializing objects or calling remote procedures. To me, it’s not all that exciting. Really.
I wonder why I am resolving problems for rich wireless telecom giants when all I ever want in life is help distribute rations to people in refugee camps, who do not have food to eat. Let alone cellular phone facilities.
Yeah, all right. I already hear: ‘So, Go ahead. Who the heck is stopping you?’ But then.. I don’t know.. Don’t think it is as easy as it appears. I don’t really mind the risk, but people aren’t toenails to just clip away. I don’t want my decisions to affect anyone. (Anyone = Father, Mother and to a small extent, Sister). And I am loaded with questions, questions and more questions.
Charity begins at home? So, moving toward what I call charity, running over the shattered plans and hearts of folks at home is a mean thing to do, right? Can I go my own way, without even caring to offer a token of loyalty? Isn’t that what they call being ungrateful? Is it my right and an act of faith to “follow and live my dream” or does it come at the cost of a couple of broken hearts?
Aah, how I wish the arms that always held and comforted me were open now! Rhetoric wish! At present, there is this huge sign that reads “Very High Voltage. Do not dare”. :(
Lord, dear Lord, I don’t ask for understanding and I am not asking that you give me answers. I am just asking that you give me faith. Faith to believe, even when I don’t see. Faith like the Centurion’s.

Under the Juniper Tree

I am sitting on my bed – totally wrapped and still shivering. And I remember what used to, two months back, incessantly blare inside my head – RUN.RUN.RUN. I didn’t know where or how. But just wanted to run away. More like Elijah, Just that my circumstances were not all that threatening. Well, they weren’t even bad.

I have no idea why or how I landed in Brazil. And from Mount Moriah to here in Curitiba, the hand of providence has been ever faithful. How beautifully God provides for, making the road rise up to meet me.

The beauty of God carrying me when I ask Him if He would walk along.

The unknown mumbaikar, who helped me with the baggage and offered his language dictionary without which I would’ve been thought as mute here.

The lovely couple that took me in – not just into the house but also into their family.

The comfortable work place where we perch as friends rather than colleagues.

The situations that made M and S move from Boa Vista just a week before I came here. We’re now neighbors with the best neighbors in the world! Barney, Sol n Salon – The biggest blessing!

The music that lifts my spirits up. Barney’s guitar and The City’s songs.

Salon’s table of food like the Zarephath widow’s kneading bowl - never goes empty.

The amazing church in English and the awesomeness of God leading me there.

The even more amazing ways in which He kept talking to me even through the Portuguese services!

The choir and the music.*God, you never let me run away from that, do you?*

Trusty people to hang around with and unexpected opportunities to visit places.

The big bunch of friends who care, laugh along and make life fun.

The ever comforting, ever near, ever so close Presence.

I see providence with every passing minute. I am flattered and more than grateful! I look back and see just one set of footprints. I look above and see a Juniper Tree.

Supernatural Surprise

I like surprises. They sort of catch you off-guard and for a split second you are lost for reaction. This surprise came in the most supernatural way that even though a week has passed, I haven’t figured out how to react.
I have honestly lost count of the surprises that God throws my way. They come in all sizes. It was a couple of weeks before that I was telling God how it had been a while since He showed the ‘Love Symbols’ that we shared. A few of my favorites are The Glowworm, The Butterfly, The Eagle and The Rainbow. I was yet to see a rainbow in Brazil, which so happened to be God’s more preferred way of saying ‘love ya!’ four years in college. So I was insisting God surprise me in some way on my trip to ‘Foz Do Iguacu’ last weekend.

And I knew He would! I was at the ‘Cataratas’, climbing up the mountain and I told God with a smirk – “You know Lord, sometimes I think I can predict you. I know you are definitely gonna put a rainbow in there and I am not going to be surprised. :P”

I was near the waters and I saw three brilliant rainbows. So beautiful, in places you can never imagine! I felt so thrilled. But then I was also teasing God saying, “I knew it Lord! I so knew it. Your surprise didn’t pass”. It felt like God was smiling back and saying “Look Up”. I did and I was.. ‘bowled over’ doesn’t even get as close as a hundred miles. There were like thirty eagles – Swooping, swarming, resting, soaring. I can never possibly put that feeling into words. The eagles on mountain tops! Even incredible is believable..This one was way beyond.

I felt so so humbled – at His splendor, at His majesty, at His unfathomable self. I wanted to fall on my knees and bow in reverence. The voice of many waters – The voice of the Lord. I almost choked to tears. I will never understand His ways. His methods. His plans.

And I remembered what ‘The Baptist’ said in his sermon the week before.
“If the things God does are small and simple enough for me to understand, He wouldn’t be big enough for me to worship”.

Someone had planted a wooden board on the way and it read (In English, to my joy!) :
Mightier than the thunders of many waters,
Mightier than the waves of the sea –
The Lord on high is mighty.
Psalm 93:4

M.T. : The Misplaced-Terrestrial

If Steven Spielberg has any idea of making a movie like “M.T. : The Misplaced-Terrestrial”, I would do anything to dust it off of his head. Lives of M.T’s are more embarrassing than they are adventurous. Trust me.

The camera zooms in showing, first the universe->solar system->a revolving Earth-> a disfigured Google Earth screenshot-> South America-> Brazil-> Parana-> and finally a road sign that reads “Ben Vindo a Curitiba”. (Oh, well, if Spielberg had graduated from Karunya, I bet this would be the opening scene. The hundreds of presentations they show sort of hardcodes into your brain that any visual clip starts with the cosmic mystery)
And then clearing from a hazy image, you see the protagonist (which would be me), staring back at you – blank and petrified.

Yeah, right, that is how I felt when I landed in Sao Paulo. I had to take a domestic connection to Curitiba from there, and for a really long time I was wishing Portugal had colonized India instead of the British. Nothing here was in English. Nada! Even those airport folks who wore jackets inscribed “Need help?” replied something in Portuguese which I interpreted as “Sorry, we don’t speak English”.I felt like I was stranded. Guess anyone would have felt pretty much the same, specially when you were sent a couple of emails about the high crime-rate and a list of DON’T’S that went upto page 4.. To top it all, I was watching ‘Taken’ on the flight from Dubai to Sao Paulo. Crumbs!! I was wondering how I was ever going to figure out where the domestic terminal was, let alone the flight. Thank God for a Mumbaikar at the airport, who helped me with my luggage and the domestic terminal. Saude, Mr. Alphonso!

Finally in Curitiba! The family that lets me lodge is amazing. A godsend, honestly! But most of our conversations are gesture-talk. And it is more like I start laughing when they tell me about a dead grandmother thinking it was some joke about SpongeBob.

If you think that was awkward, welcome to the new awkward.

It was the first day at office and I’m so grateful for the folks and their friendliness. They invited me to lunch at a buffet place and there were around 12 of us. If it wasn’t for ‘Motorist-Namesake(MN)’, I wouldn’t have known I had to pick my own plate and my own food. MN introduced me to Sushi and man, it was the best Sushi I’d ever eaten in life! (Alright, that was the first Sushi I ever ate). Everything about Sushi was great except that I didn’t know how to use the chopsticks. I plopped a Sushi-unit(Pardon me, I know not what they call it) into Soy sauce and no sleight of chopsticks worked to retrieve it. Thank God no one noticed. Or were atleast courteous enough to pretend like they didn’t. I finally saved it from disintegrating in the sauce with a fork, on MN’s suggestion, for which I was very grateful as it came with no laughter attached. I ate the remainder of the food with fork and knife. Tchaued the chopsticks!

Partly feeling okay and mostly NOT OKAY AT ALL, I was on my way home, and huh! I need to travel an hour and a half, switching 3 buses that are loaded with “English – strictly prohibited” people. Come on, this is the first time I’m travelling back from work, the route is all new and I can’t even pronounce the place I need to get down to take the next bus. And despite it becoming pretty dark when my watch shows just 6:30 pm, I managed to reach the final boarding place and Jitters! Usually the buses are boarded at the front entrance and I religiously did so till I was shoved back and directed (read: pointed) to the mid-entrance of the bus. Seems at stations called “Terminals”, as the one I was standing in, so was the custom. Bah!
Already flushing pink(Okay, I know it doesn’t show on my face), I got inside to hear a group of women LOL and like the instincts of every human, native or misplaced, I thought they were laughing at me..and I went purple(which didn’t show either, duh!)

Next morning, I take the 7 o’clock bus sternly believing morning brings with it joy, and hoping that I find myself less misplaced – this is what I realize. When in school, say 2 of every 10 people are pretty and of course, you’re in the other 8, fervently wishing to be in the minority. In college, 5 of the 10 girls are pretty and cute and you ask God why He never answered your “with-faith-like-a-child” prayer from school. Well, God’s timing is perfect, ain’t it? Now, here in Brazil, He let me receive my answer.. I’m one of the two, and 8 out of 10 are gorgeous! Thanks, Lord!!

People drive on the right side and I so idiotically open the left door of cars forgetting it is the wheel side which immediately commands a “So, you gonna drive? .. Huahuahua..” from my colleagues..and a series of funny comments in Portuguese, and suddenly I’m thankful I don’t understand the language. And I was almost run over trying to cross the road as I carefully checked to the right and a truck vroomed past me from the left. “Oh darn!” I screamed to myself,” That’s the right side” ..and I heard myself – That is the right side! Yeah, perhaps it wasn’t all that thwarting, just that it would have cost me my life.
Well, these are some miseries that I faced, as a fairly level-headed independent major. Guess it would take some more time till I fit in.. Until then, Me. T. , The misplaced terrestrial will have to survive the weird and wonderful ways of the nova lugar(new land, in Portuguese.. ;) ).