Way way back in the 70s, there was this exquisitely made movie called Friends shot in the beautiful French countryside. It hit my sleepy little town several years later and, along with all my friends, I just loved it to pieces. After all, back then there were relatively no teen movies and TV was just a figment of our dreams. I remember in particular this scene where the 14 and 15 year old leads talk about their parents and the pretty Michelle says, "My mother died giving birth to me. She was very old. She was 28." Ouch.

Time passed and I had forgotten all about it until recently when I managed to get hold of another old fav movie Picnic at Hanging Rock through the Net. I wondered if Friends might also not be available and google-ed it down. Turns out the film's rather hard to find but in a movie forum I came across this amazing gentleman from the US who offered to burn and mail a copy of the fabulous soundtrack to anyone anywhere. So I emailed him and voila, guess what finally arrived in the mail this morning? :)
It's amazing what friends will do for friends, but I think it's even more amazing that a total stranger would be willing to do something like this. Don, thank you so much! You bring back to me so many sweet memories. And your generosity restores my faith in the goodness of people.

~~~

It took a lot longer than I thought and there's still some stuff that needs to be done...paint, curtains et al but here finally are a few pics of the kitchen as promised. How's it compare with my aunt's? I wanted off-white tiles too but my sis insisted on black so ours look a bit darker overall. But it's still a huge improvement on the earlier setup so we ain't complaining :)

My sis cooking up something

Evening

Day abandons it
night disowns it

a poet picks it up
threads it
into a poem;
but sometimes
it is barren,
so impotent
it gives nothing,

not even to the poet.

- Gulzar

~~~

I'm not sure if this was written in English or translated from Urdu but I like the different approach it takes to a topic that's been sentimentalised and done to death in the most humdrum way by poets and songwriters galore.

Amen. I couldn't agree more.

The last few days I've been working hard at trying to make our kitchen look something like the one above, which happens to be my aunt's. My sisters and I have long felt our kitchen needed major upgrading, what with the outdated sunglossed cabinet doors and general antiquidated look. But knocking things down is hard, dirty, dusty work, and things don't always go to plan. Like after putting in granite slabs on the counter and cementing them down, there was a place in the corner where water puddled so we had to rip them up again. Sigh. My bones ache. And we haven't even actually started on the wood work.

~~~

Musings on the Holy Week

We had the Lord's Supper sacrament on Maundy Thursday night. The church was full and it all started quietly in a hushed kind of way. As the bread and wine were served by solemn elders and ministers, the singing became more fervent and emotional. And as we sang of the sufferings of Jesus the night he was captured, tried and sentenced to death, I choked on "aw ka Lal, i lo kir leh tawh law'ng maw?", (oh my Lord, will you never return?) as scenes of a bloodsoaked Jesus staggering along the streets of Jerusalem on his way to Calvary from The Passion of the Christ came vividly to mind. Sweet catharsis.

A Hindu friend from Orissa once asked me why Good Friday was called good when Jesus Christ died on that day. It's hard for non-Christians to understand. I explained as best as I could about the whole concept of salvation and I think she was reasonably satisfied that Good Friday is indeed a "good" day for believers.

It’s Easter today, the most glorious day ever in history. But I never quite thought of it that way until after my mother died. When Easter rolled around after she'd left us, I only fully realised the implications of the resurrection of Christ and of death "swallowed up in victory". The entire chapter of I Corinthians 15 became the truest, most beautiful, most glorious thing I'd ever heard. Jesus died, and on Easter morning, rose again to lead the resurrection of the dead. Easter completes the cycle of salvation and redemption. And because of Easter, I know I shall meet my mother again.

~~~

He's Alive (Peter's Song)

The gates and doors were barred
And all the windows fastened down
I spent the night in sleeplessness
And rose at every sound
Half in hope of sorrow
And half in fear the day
Would find the soldiers breakin' through
To drag us all away

And just before the sunrise
I heard something at the wall
The gate began to rattle
And a voice began to call
I hurried to the window
Looked down into the street
Expecting swords and torches
And the sound of soldiers' feet

But there was no one there but Mary
So I went down to let her in
John stood there beside me
As she told me where she'd been
She said they've moved Him in the night
And none of us know where
The stone's been rolled away
And now His body isn't there

We both ran towards the garden
Then John ran on ahead
We found the stone and empty tomb
Just the way that Mary said
But the winding sheet they wrapped Him in
Was just an empty shell
And how or where they'd taken Him
Was more than I could tell

Oh something strange had happened there
Just what I did not know
John believed a miracle
But I just turned to go
Circumstance and speculation
Couldn't lift me very high
'Cause I'd seen them crucify Him
Then I saw Him die

Back inside the house again
The guilt and anguish came
Everything I'd promised Him
Just added to my shame
When at last it came to choices
I denied I knew His name
And even if He was alive
It wouldn't be the same

But suddenly the air was filled
With a strange and sweet perfume
Light that came from everywhere
Drove shadows from the room
And Jesus stood before me
With His arms held open wide
And I fell down on my knees
And I just clung to Him and cried

Then He raised me to my feet
And as I looked into His eyes
The love was shining out from Him
Like sunlight from the skies
Guilt in my confusion
Disappeared in sweet release
And every fear I ever had
Just melted into peace

He's alive yes He's alive
Yes He's alive and I'm forgiven
Heaven's gates are open wide
He's alive yes He's alive
Oh He's alive and I'm forgiven
Heaven's gates are open wide
He's alive He's alive
Hallelujah He's alive.
~~~

Sigh, it's that time of the year again. The most aggravating time for a teacher. And the worst part is that these papers aren't going back to the kids, just their marks, so it doesn't help leaving exasperated red-inked comments like "Do you even know what's in your syllabus?!" Or "I shall hold you personally responsible in the event of my mental breakdown!"

In particular, being an English teacher has to be the stressful job ever at evaluation time. When I first started out, I was tickled to death by the absurd things I read. I thought they were the absolute height of hilarity and would note down and quote the unbelievably whackier ones. Then came stage ii: I was no longer amused but outraged by the indifferent mangling of tenses and verbs and prepositions. I'd slash through the offending lines and mark them "MEANINGLESS!" Or sometimes "ABSOLUTE RUBBISH!!!" Then came stage iii: I'm now completely inured to it all and resigned to the fact that these kids are just incapable of constructing proper sentences in English. I don't open the papers anymore with any sense of anticipation at being entertained or having my ulcer act up. I just sigh and get on with it.

~~~

10 Things Teachers Would Love to Write on a Student's Paper

1. I would not allow this student to breed.
2. This student has delusions of adequacy.
3. This student is depriving a village somewhere of an idiot.
4. This student is not the sharpest tool in the shed.
5. Student has been working with glue too much.
6. If this student were any more stupid, he'd have to be watered twice a week.
7. Gates are down, lights are flashing, but the train isn’t coming.
8. It’s hard to believe the sperm that created this student beat out 1,000,000 others.
9. If this student had two brain cells, they'd kill each other.
10. This student has reached rock bottom and has started to dig.

~~~

Attitude

The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, then circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think, say, or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness, or skill. It will make or break a company, a church, a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day.

We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you. We are in charge of our attitudes.

- Charles Swindoll

I like this. I've loved Swindoll's writings ever since I read his book Come Before Winter (which introduced me to the term "sweating the small stuff". And this attitude thing is something that I need to remind myself every day, every hour. I try not to be but I'm a reactionary kind of person. If someone's nice, I'm nice. If someone snubs me, I snub them right back. But it's immature and doesn't do anything for me in terms of personal growth so I need to keep reminding myself that I'm in charge. I call the shots. I decide how I'm going to act and feel. Easier said than done but at least I have Swindoll's wise reminder to prop my spine back into place when it sags under the onslaught of unpleasant encounters.

~~~