Amidst Heritage Buildings and Seeing Naseeruddin Shah on Stage at the NCPA

Saturday, September 29, 2018
Bombay

Amidst Heritage Buildings of South Bombay and Seeing Naseeruddin Shah on Stage at the NCPA

     Namaste from Bombay1
      I had another fabulous day! With Russel now safely ensconced at home with Dad, a semblance of routine has re-entered my life. So I awoke at 5.30 am and began reading The New York Times online. So exciting that I can now do this! And then, guess what? On Twitter, I found a special offer for international readers of The Times (of London) and The Sunday Times of which I have been a fan since the time I lived in London, ten years ago.  It was a special introductory offer of 1 pound per month for the next three months! How could I resist the offer? Of course, I went ahead and purchased the offer and presto--I had my first Weekend and Travel issues of The Times of London to browse through.  I was super excited.

Daily Constitutional at Jogger's Park:
     At 6.45 am, I stopped to wash and dress and have a cup of coffee before leaving the house at 7. 15 am to go to Joggers Park for my daily constitutional.  Today, I listened to both Engelbert Humperdinck's Greatest Hits and Fleetwood Mac's Greatest Hits and had the time of my life.  I am now actually wondering whether I should renew my gym membership at the Bandra Gymkhana (on October 1 when membership fees are collected for the next quarter) or simply continue with these walks in the Jogger's Park. I have enjoyed using the Park enormously
   Back home, I had a shower and my breakfast (muesli and coffee) and blogged on my doings of the day before.  I also checked email and tried to make some plans with other Fulbrighters whom I have just discovered are also Bandra-based. A host that has been assigned to me is called Monica James--she was a Fulbrighter in San Francisco where she did Media and Gender Studies and now works for Teach for India. I am looking forward to very happy times with her.
   
Off to South (or Downtown) Bombay:
     At 12.30 pm, I had an early lunch at home and then got my bag packed for an overnight stay at my friend Nafisa's place in Spence Lane, Byculla. I stopped off briefly at Dad's place to see how Russel was doing before I left and took the 220 bus to go to Bandra Station for my trip into the city. My monthly pass had expired and so I renewed it and got a Western Railway one for Rs. 490 for the month (about $7.00--such a steal!). Then I got on a Churchgate-bound train and made my way into the city.
     
Touring Downtown Bombay:
     I had an appointment to see my friend Aban and her husband Rusi at their apartment at Cuffe Parade at 5.00 pm and a theater appointment at 7.00 pm with Nafisa and her daughter Tasneem who had arrived from Singapore to spend two weeks in Bombay. That left me about 3 hours to play around with in South Bombay and I decided to go out and explore it on foot--one of my favorite things in the world to do.
   
The Fabulous Oval Maidan--Bombay's Answer to New York's Central Park:
     I relived my college days at Elphinstone College, Bombay, by crossing the Oval Maidan from Churchgate Station to the main gate of the campus of the University of Bombay.  This used to be my daily commuting route when I was an undergrad in Bombay and it brought back delightful memories for me of chatting with my commuting Bandra-based friends in those good old days as we took this way to Churchgate station.
     The Eucharistic Congress of Bombay was also held in the Oval Maidan in 1964 and crossing it on foot took me back to the era of Pope Pius VI who, when I was but five years old, had visited Bombay.  My Dad was an usher at the Congress and we had prime seats that gave us such a clear view of the Pope as he was driven down the main aisle to shouts of "Viva Il Papa" from Indians--including kids like myself--who had never spoken Italian in their lives! All these thoughts came rushing out at me as I crossed the vast lawn.

In the Library of the University of Bombay:
     At the gate of the campus of the University of Bombay from where I had taken all my primary degrees before leaving India, I was questioned by a security man who wanted to know where I was headed. I told him I wanted to see the Librarian in the Library--which was indeed my intention. And then seconds later, I was striding into the glorious building that was designed by none other than Sir George Gilbert Scott who had also designed--and what a coincidence this is!--the chapel of Exeter College, Oxford, of which I have only the most wonderful memories of Evensong when I was a grad student there.
     And as if that were not enough, the run-down decrepit building with missing window panes, pigeon-droppings, etc that I remembered so well of old when I used to have a carrel on the ground floor while I was a doctoral student at the University of Bombay, have disappeared. In their place is a gorgeously refurbished building which simply shines in its new avatar.  Not a single window pane is missing. Indeed every single one has been recreated and reconstructed in the original design. There is not a pigeon in sight. Freshly power-washed, the walls, turrets, towers, spiral staircase, wide balcony and neo-Gothic window arches are simply glowing. It was a sight for sore eyes. Someone has invested tons of money in making many signifiant Victorian-Gothic buildings of colonial Bombay new again. I thought I had died and gone to Heaven! I simply could not believe that this was the dusty, tired, faded building in which I had spent so much time scanning through old card catalogues, walking through the stacks to find the books I needed, etc.  You could have fooled me that this building was in Oxford. Sadly, I was not allowed to take any photographs of the interior--so I had to commit everything to memory.
     I made my way into the Reading Room on the ground floor and found the librarian--a lovely woman called Varsha who told me that I could get a Reader's Card for Rs. 500 after filling out a form. However, when she discovered what my field of research was, she told me that I ought to go to the library of the NCPA--I did not even know there was such a thing as a library in this complex. Naturally, as I was headed to that very place, I thought I would check it out later in the evening. However, Varsha did invite me to explore the Reading Room above and take a look at the card catalogue and see if there was anything in my bibliography that was available there.  She told me that the library today houses only the Law collection as all other collections (including English Literature) have been moved to the campus at Kalina. If I wanted to find my own bound Ph.D. Thesis dating from 1994, she said it would be in Kalina! Wow!        
      I deposited my bag, got a token and then climbed to the top floor to get to the Reading Room. Again, I regretted bitterly that I could not take any pictures as the place absolutely lent itself to architectural photography. The stone work, stained glass windows, Gothic tracery within which glass panes are set, solid stone stairs that curve gracefully upwards, were all worthy of pictures and I felt so frustrated that I could take none.
     Upstairs, I found no more than a dozen men seated at various long tables as close to the massive pedestal fans as possible as it was a very warm afternoon indeed. The superb soaring wooden hammered ceiling has recently been re-polished and varnished and it too glows. Once again, stained glass detail gave a Gothic grandeur to the space. I have researched and borrowed books from some of the world's most famous libraries--for example, the Bodleian Library at Oxford including Duke Humphrey's Library where the Harry Potter films were shot, the Radcliff Camera (both in the upper Baroque section and lower Gothic level) where I had taken pictures galore because I so wanted to immortalize my times there. And then here I was in a building that was architecturally on par with any of those! And how proud and privileged I felt that I was an alumna of this wonderful space and had graduated from it in the university's heyday!

Having a Chocolate Milk Shake at Kala Ghoda Cafe:
     It was time to make my way down the stairs, to retrieve my bag and find a place where I could get a cold drink.  I called Shahnaz for some suggestions as many of the restaurants from my time (Samovar, The Wayside Inn, etc.) have closed down. She suggested Kala Ghoda Cafe which she described as a very cute place and she directed me there. I made my way there on foot and was completely taken by the manner in which that area has changed since the time it was my youthful stomping ground--when I was an undergrad student of English at Elphinstone College that was across the road. That street is now filled with one-of-a-kind designer boutiques selling high-end clothing and restaurants galore. I needed a seat for one; but the only place available was a bar-stool at the bar--which I was quite happy to occupy. I had barely made myself comfortable when the waiter told me that a table for two had opened up in the annex on the other side.
     And that was where I had a delicious chocolate milk shake that was refreshing and filling at the same time (Rs. 230). I enjoyed the cool ambience of the air-conditioned place and after sitting for about 45 minutes, left to enter the warm humidity of a September afternoon in Bombay.

Visiting the David Sassoon Library and Reading Room:
     Right across the street was the beautiful black and white face of the David Sassoon Library and Reading Room, and of course, because I had never been in there, I decided I would make it a first time. This building too, that dates from 1870 when the Reading Room was founded, has been recently restored.  It is magical to me how wondrously these heritage buildings in Bombay are being brought back to life with tender loving care.  A big thank you to the history buffs of the city who are using the new-found wealth of its entrepreneurs to harness the grand architectural heritage of the British in India.  I am all for it.
     Once inside the glorious tiled foyer, I realized why I had never been inside--even though I studied for four full undergraduate years just next door in Elphinstone College.  It is because Only Members are allowed in.  However, I asked the watchman if I could take a look around and he told me I could provided I did not occupy a seat.  I thanked him kindly and wondered why he would say such a thing---going by the number of people in the Reading Room of the University of Bombay's Library (only a handful), I thought there would be seats going a-begging upstairs.
     I was so mistaken.  In an equally beautiful upstairs Reading Room, not a single seat was available.  Males and females alike had occupied every seat and were either reading or keeping busy on their phones.  At the entrance, all the major Indian newspapers were available for those who wished to browse.  I have rarely seen a sight that has made my heart leap up for joy more than this one did! The irony is that in the Library of the University of Bombay which is free there was hardly anyone.  In this place, where one had to buy a membership, there was not a vacant chair.
     Here too I wandered out on the broad balcony which was filled with the lovely Parsee-style "easy-chairs," India's equivalent of the chaise-longue, that had seen better days and were in need of a good varnish.  The spiral stairs, balcony railings, etc. were pristine and the tiles on the floor--gorgeous ceramic tiles from two previous centuries ago, such as I have seen in Dublin, Ireland, on the floor of the Cathedral of St. Steven, still stood as they have done since they were first laid out.  All these sights simply lifted my heart.
     From the balcony on which I ventured, I was able to take lovely pictures of Rampart Row just below me. The area is called Kala Ghoda because, in colonial times, there was an equestrian statue of the then Prince of Wales, Edward VII, son of Queen Victoria, seated on a bronze black horse (the kala ghoda --in Hindi--of the area's name). When, after Indian Independence, all such vestiges of colonialism were obliterated, the statue was removed and sent off to a sculpture graveyard somewhere. However, the name of the area remained unchanged and someone thought it prudent to replace the erstwhile sculpture with a contemporary one.  Thus, a huge black horse now stands on a traffic island on its own pedestal--but, I have to say, it absolutely lacks the heft of its colonial forebears.
     Such libraries and Reading Rooms were the brainchild of 19th century philanthropists who wished to make reading and education mainstream and not just the preserve of a privileged few.  Hence, in London in the late 1800s, Edward Passmore created a wealth of public buildings devoted to reading--they are known as Passmore Reading Rooms and can be found all over the East End of London to this day--although many of them have been recommissioned for more contemporary purposes. I spotted a few in Aldgate, Spitalfields and Hackney when I lived in London. Here in Bombay, Jewish industrialists and philanthropists put their money into such charitable ventures and the David Sassoon Reading Room, named after Jewish philanthrophist David Sassoon, came into being while Victoria still held sway over half the globe.  A beautiful marble sculpture of this generous founder stands at the main entrance just under the stairwell and adds to the old-world ambience of this place. I was simply charmed by this building and the history behind it.

Off to Cuffe Parade:
     Across  the street, right outside the Jehangir Art Gallery--another one of my familiar haunts in my undergrad days and where I was first exposed to art--I found a taxi that whisked me off to Cuffe Parade for my appointment with my friend Aban and her husband Rusi who live in a beautiful high-rise building called Casablanca right opposite the World Trade Center and the Reserve Bank of India where my father once had his office.
     My friendship with Aban goes back to my earliest years as a professor in Bombay when both she and I had taught at Jai Hind College. Aban has taught French in Bombay for nearly half a century and her knowledge and facility with the language is better than that of native speakers. Now that she has retired, she teaches full-time at the Alliance Francaise de Bombay (from where I myself got my Diploma de Langue Franciase, so many years ago) and is a translator and interpreter that is much in demand in Bombay. She is married to a Chartered Accountant called Rusi who is also now a dear friend of Llew and me.
     Visiting with them was a real joy and very useful too--as they gave me the names and contact numbers of a number of Parsees with whom I can now begin my research. Over cold coconut water and some Indian sweetmeats, we talked about my past month and Russel's state before we said goodbye and I scooted off to my next appointment.

A Taxi to the National Center for the Performing Arts:
     It took me a while to find a taxi to get to the National Center for the Performing Arts as none were free at that hour.  Still, with some patience, I managed to find one and in about fifteen minutes, I was on the steps of the Tata Theater making my way to the back, cross a lovely garden to the front entrance of the Experimental Theater.
     Nafisa and Tasneem, her daughter, met me there. Tasneem happens to be Chriselle's classmate--Nafisa and I had met on the very first day that our daughters had entered Junior Kindergarten. She had booked tickets to see The Father, a play written originally in French by Florian Zeller, and starring one of India's best-known thespians, Naseeruddin Shah. It was directed by his wife Ratna Pathak-Shah, who happened to be my classmate at Elphinstone College before she transferred to the National School of Drama in Delhi from which she graduated. The play also starred Naseer's daughter Heeba by a previous marriage.

My Review of The Father:
     The theater was intimate because seating was in an amphitheater format. It was very informal in terms of set design and costumes. I have to admit that I had a hard time trying to figure out exactly what was going on in the beginning. Centered around the advancing loss of mental faculties of the protagonist Andre (played by Naseer), the script presented his mental processes through a number of supporting characters such as his daughter Anna and her boyfriend Pierre. I found the use of mime irritating throughout. If they were going to use Suzuki techniques in the play, then all of it should have been in that vein. Sound effects that coincided with mimed action on the part of the characters was a device that did not work for me. I would much rather have had real props such as wine glasses and dinner platters to make the sets more realistic.  Nasser was good, I will say that, but I found the script rather slow-moving and repetitive and, overall, it was certainly not one of the best works I have seen.  Still, Motley Theater Group has been known to work in experimental genres and this represents exactly the kind of work they are wont to do.
             After the play, Nafisa drove us back to her place in her car. We were in Byculla in about 20 minutes and sat down straight to dinner--kheema pullao with sprouted mung raita and cut cucumbers. For dessert, there were brownies and gulab jamuns. We had a very companionable dinner at which Nafisa's husband Husefa joined us and we spent much of the time catching up in their spacious flat.
    We only called it a day at about 11. 30 pm when I brushed and flossed my teeth and changed to get to sleep.
     Until tomorrow...    
       
     

Breakfast at the Marriott Hotel and a Condolence Visit to a Classmate

Friday, September 28, 2018
Bombay

Breakfast at the Marriott Hotel and a Condolence Visit to a Classmate.

     Namaste fromBombay!
     Today was a most unusual day--but such a great one! I awoke at 5.30 am and began blogging and reading. I was thrilled to discover that my annual subscription to The New York Times automatically buys me access on my iPhone and my iPad! This meant that I could follow the Kavanagh-Ford hearing in great detail as soon as I awoke.
     This was fun as I got a call from Llew who had been watching extracts from the hearing on CNN and MSNBC. We ended up discussing it at length. I am confident that Kavanagh will be confirmed on the US Supreme Court.  From what I saw of the excerpts of the recording, I fully believe Christine Ford that the sexual assault took place. But it is also possible that Kavanagh was so intoxicated that he has no memory whatsoever of this assault taking place and, therefore, steadfastly denies all knowledge of it.

Off to Jogger's Park:
     I washed, dressed, gulped down a cup of coffee, put on my sneakers, took my ear-phones with me and set off for my morning walk at Jogger's Park. My ten rounds on the Jogger's Track is such a great way to exercise, to get in my cardiovascular workout, to breath in the fabulous salt-scented air of the Arabian Sea and to be inspired by the numbers of other exercises who have made walking or jogging a part of their routine. This morning, I listened to Bobby Darin's Greatest Hits from the 1950s--yes, Bobby Darin!!! I am actually listening to my collection of music on my phone that I haven't listened to for a very long time.

Breakfast at the Marriott Hotel:
     Back home, I jumped quickly into the shower and put on a special outfit with pearl jewelry and better shoes than usual as I had a special morning's date. At 9.00am, I was meeting my friend Shahnaz at the lobby of the Otter's Club of which she is a member right after she finished her thrice-weekly aqua exercises in the pool. She had two free coupons for breakfast at the Marriott Hotel at Juhu (part of the perks of the Club Marriott membership that she once held with her late husband) and invited me to accompany her to get breakfast there.
    I was delighted. First of all, I had never been to the Marriott Hotel which I was told was the first  and only 7-star hotel in Bombay.  Secondly, my brother Roger and his wife Lalita had taken my parents, Robert and Edith, for brunch to the Marriott on the day of their Golden Wedding Anniversary--so I wanted to be in the same space in which they had been. And thirdly, I was starving, as all I had downed was a cup of coffee.  It felt good to be able to sit somewhere and eat a really special breakfast.
     And boy, was it special! It was astounding. The breakfast area is designed around a lotus pool--which is why it is called The Lotus Cafe. The grounds are beautifully landscaped to swoop down to the sea.  Form where we were seated, we could see the vast, lushly-manicured gardens and pool outside and the thunderous waves of the Arabian Sea beyond them. Spectacular!
     And then there was the food.  The 'stations' seemed never ending.  There was everything you could think of--from stations that offered quiches to eggs anyway you liked them, including custom-made omelettes with the works (bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, baked beans) to a cheese board to a cereals counter with all sort of toppings available, to an Indian area where breakfast such as idlis and vadas were offered (fresh dosas were being made to order right off the griddle) to more counters where custom-made sandwiches and salads could be assembled, to another station where waffles and pancakes were being produced, plus an area offering juices and fresh fruit.  It was quite quite endless.
     Coffee was served at the table and I asked for a decaff coffee--which they were able to provide.  However, when I spied fresh lassi, I decided to get a glass of that. I also wanted to taste their birschersmuesli which was served cold and with just a spoon of that, I moved on to a selection of cheeses.  Next, I turned to the waffle counter and ordered one with chocolate sauce, whipped cream and almonds and I finished my breakfast with toast points with cream cheese, smoked salmon, pickled onions, capers and chives.  Everything was heavenly and I was so stuffed by the end of it that I honestly did not eat anything else until 9.00 pm in the evening when I had my dinner--and I was not even hungry then!
     It was a stupendous treat and I was so glad that Shahnaz invited me. She drove us to and back from the hotel and by the time I reached home, it was about 11.30am. I was left with enough time to make some email contacts and organize my weekend.
     I stopped to put away another tiffin that had been delivered and then had a 20 minute power nap. I could not really focus on much work or start anything new as I had to leave my house for my next appointment.

Making a Condolence Visit to a Friend:
     I had made plans to meet my classmate Iris Dias at the BEST bus stop depot outside Khar Railway Station at 4.30 pm. Accordingly, I left my home at 4.00 and sat at the 220 bus stop on Perry Road awaiting for the bus which came about ten minutes later.  I had not been to the last stop (Khar Station) for ages and I rather enjoyed the bus ride along the Carter Road Promenade with the sea waves lashing the mangrove plantings near the shore. We passed by the fishing village of Danda with its tell-tale smells and the deeply congested area surrounding it before we eased into lovely verdant Madhu Park in Khar and from there to the station where the last stop was located.
     I spied Iris already waiting for me when I got there on the dot of 4.30pm. She was told that Sacred Heart Church at Santa Cruz was walking distance from Khar Station and suggested we walk there.  We did ask for directions once and were clearly set forth in the right direction.
     Our classmate Nilu who lost her sister Shahnaz Pinto, two weeks ago, had given me the address and detailed directions to her mother's home in Santa Cruz. Nilu herself, like me, had made her way to the USA forty years ago to do her Ph.D. in Mathematics at the University of Michigan at Kalamazoo where she eventually became a full Professor of Maths and where she met her American husband Steve, also a professor of Maths. Nilu had come down to support her sister Shehnaz through her battle with pancreatic cancer and to help her 88-year old mother Kamela cope with it. Both Iris and I had attended the Memorial Service for Shahnaz, about ten days ago.
     We found the flat easily enough as Nilu's  directions were perfect and in very little time, were seated in her living room and talking about so many things.  It was hard to keep track of the tenor of our conversation which remained free-wheeling as we flipped from one subject to the next. Shehnaz's loss was the trigger for so many other subjects that we discussed as we walked down Memory Lane as we caught up on our lives in the intervening years as we were all close pals in high school who have not seen each other in decades.
     It was about 7.00 pm when we left Nilu's mother's home--which meant that we had been chatting for over two hours. Iris and I then walked to Khar Station from where she took a train back home to Goregoan and I jumped into a rickshaw to go directly to my Dad's home.  He too had skipped Mass today as the India versus Bangladesh finals cricket match was on the telly and he was keen to watch it.
     Once at Dad's place, I visited with Russel for about half an hour.  He too had been watching the match in his room but by 8.00 pm, he was keen to have his dinner. He seemed a bit less serene today and did not speak much sense.  I showed the day and night attendants how to put the supporting brace on his leg.
   A little later, once Dad got Russel's dinner ready, I decided to leave. But just at that minute, the rain came bucketing down and I had to wait until it abated.  This was exactly the time my cousin Blossom called me from Madras.  It was her birthday and I had been trying without any luck to reach her to wish her all day.  She, therefore, decided to return my calls and we chatted for another 15 minutes.
     During the time of our call, the rain abated and borrowing one of Dad's umbrellas, I picked up my freely-done laundry and left. En route, I stopped at the local grocery store to pick up a pack of almond milk.
     Once home, I put away my clothes and got organized with my dinner. This time I ate part of the new tiffin I had received: cutlets, Goan shrimp curry and cabbage. I also ate half a guava and part of a fresh pomelo that my Dad had given me to take home.  It was delicious. I was eating pomelo after years and it was very good indeed.  Pomelo for me today is one of my favorite perfumes. Made by Jo Malone under her new line called Jo Loves, Pomelo is her best-selling fragrance.
     While eating dinner, I watched Tunnel on my Ipad--it has become very interesting indeed and I am enjoying it enormously.
     By about 10.30, I decided to call it a night.
     Until tomorrow...  

Back at Holy Family Hospital for Russel's Cast

Thursday, September 27, 2018
Bombay

Back at Holy Family Hospital for Russel's Cast

     Namaste from Bombay!
     Until about 8.00 pm last night, we had no idea whether or not Russel would be back at Holy Family Hospital today to get his fractured leg (currently bandaged) placed in a cast. But when it was discovered that his orthopedist, Dr. Derrick D'Lima would be going away for 20 days, the residents who work under him suggested that we bring Russel in so that the doctor could take a look at his leg and decide on further action before he leaves.
     Accordingly, I awoke at 5.30 am and blogged for a bit before stopping for an early shower and breakfast of muesli and coffee before I left for my Dad's place. I reached there at 8.15 am. Dad was finishing up his own breakfast and about to break the news to Russel that he would be required to go back again to the hospital.  Russel was not told earlier for fear that it would keep him awake all night. Once he was told, he worried that he would be left there. We promised him that he was only going into the Endoscopy Department to have his stitches removed and his leg placed in a cast.

Off to the Hospital:
     And so we went through the drill again: calling for an ambulance, waiting for the arrival of the ambulance staff, rousing the other male help from my Dad's building (the watchmen and the gardener) to give the ambulance staff a hand as Russel was hauled up bodily from his bed and placed on the ambulance bed and into the vehicle.  Dad, the day attendant Nagendra and I accompanied Russel as he made the journey from his home to the hospital at 9.30 am.

In Holy Family Hospital:
     It's funny how one becomes so accustomed to a place that it ceases to be unfamiliar and becomes as comfortable as an old slipper. Well, this time round, knowing the ropes as well as I now do, I did not feel like a misfit once we reached the hospital.  The ambulance staff wheeled Russel into the hospital and up to the Endoscopy Department where the nurses on duty were taken aback by the fact that one of Dr. D'Lima's patients had come in to see him.  They told us that the doctor does not see patients on Thursdays and that he was in the Operating Theater.  We assured them that we had an appointment at 10.00 am and that the doctor wished to see Russel as a special case as he was headed for a break of three weeks.
    They then went into the Operating Theater and spoke to the doctor. About ten minutes later, he walked out of the Theater and into the Endoscopy Department where Russel had been wheeled. He took a look at Russel and at the dressing on his knee from which synovectal fluid was still oozing and collecting through a tube into a plastic pot or bag whose contents were measured daily.
     About ten minutes later, the doctor came out and told us that the knee had settled down well.  He would be placing Russel's leg in a fiberglass cast and sending him home.  He said that the fact that the knee was oozing was a very good thing. It meant that the fluid was still coming out--which was preferable to having it trapped inside and causing possible infection. He wrote down the materials he required for the dressing to be done and requested me to go to the Pharmacy downstairs to pick up the supplies--which I did.
     By the time I returned, the doctor had encased Russel's shin in a firm blue fiberglass cast--this would now allow him to stand under the guidance of a physiotherapist. He called me in, at this point, and told me that the knee would have to stay outside a cast but in a large knee brace that covered the length of Russel's leg. This would provide the support that the knee needed until it could also be placed in a cast. He also told me that if the dressing on the knee wound grew too soggy or bloody, it would need to be changed. He then proceeded to show me how to do the dressing myself at home! Needless to say, this sent me in a tizzy as I am not the sort of person who can look upon blood without feeling squeamish. But when he showed me the wound and it turned out to be no bigger than a pea, I was instantly comforted. With a little ointment and a bit of dressing, he said, the wound will scab over soon. At that point, we can decide how to support it further, he said.  In the meanwhile, he showed me how to place Russel's leg in a leg brace--which was actually a very simple matter that involved Velcro straps and a bit of tugging to make it firm. Russel said that he was not in any pain at all through the entire process--which is a huge blessing.
     When all of that was done (and the doctor gave us generously of his time, attention and his fullest expertise and skill), he told us that Russel could be taken home.  A month from now, he would like me to call him to let him know how Russel is doing; depending on the situation, further actions and decisions will be taken.
      So, the end result is that Russel is now ready to mend--with time, physiotherapy, prayers and positive thinking, he should make a good recovery and have the fractured shin bones set.  Once the cast is removed, attention can be shifted back to the knee and a second surgery might be necessary to brace the arthritic knee bones. Though the prognosis is long, it is not grim and I feel certain that there is light at the end of the tunnel.
     I made a couple more trips, up and down, to get bills paid and to arrange and pay for the ambulance back home.  Poor Dad looked dreadful and was very grateful when I told him to go and sit down as we waited for the ambulance to arrive as he was dog tired. I stood by Russel to keep him company as we waited.
     About a half hour later, the ambulance staff arrived and wheeled Russel to their vehicle--a much larger and far more luxurious one. And then twenty minutes later, we were home and Russel was safely back in his bed again. Needless to say, he was hugely relieved that we had not left him in the hospital. We told him that the physiotherapist Lenita would teach him how to move about again with a walker and that slowly but surely he would be able to walk again. He stayed with the leg brace on for the rest of the day although it really has to be worn only at night and when he is doing the physiotherapy in order to provide extra support for his knee.

Back Home for Lunch and a Nap:
     Needless to say, by the time I got home, it was 12.30 and I was starving and ready for lunch. I ate my chicken curry, snake gourd with lentils and cutlets with half a guava for dessert.  Guavas are my favorite fruit and I am making the most of the season and enjoying them thoroughly.  I had my 20 minute power nap and then began working on my computer--mainly by way of attending to email correspondence and making appointments for work that I would like to start next week. I also did a bit of reading: White Houses by Amy Bloom. It is well written but not absorbing me as much as I had thought it would.  Perhaps the most interesting bits are yet to come.
    I am also happy to have made contact with a Fulbright 'Host" named Monica James (a former Fulbrighter in the US herself) who works with Teach for India  She has been appointed as my mentor and will provide guidance and companionship as I continue with my Fulbright assignment.  Fortunately, she lives in Bandra too--I am, therefore, looking forward to a lot of fun times with her.
     In the evening, I had a pot of tea with a slice of walnut cake and continued working. In the evening, my friend Ian called from New Jersey.  It was a great joy to hear from him especially as he has been through serious surgery himself and is convalescing in rather a painful state. However, I had to cut our call short as I had to leave for the 7.00 am Mass.
   
Church and Dinner:
     I met Dad and Russel at their home and visited with them briefly before Dad and I set out for Mass.  After Mass, we were offered a ride by a man called Joe Cordo who is very active in the Western music scene in Bombay and will prove to be a very valuable resource for me in my field research. I took his phone number, told him about my work assignment and solicited his help in my venture.  He said that he would be more than happy to help me and suggested that I meet him and his wife Celeste at their home so that we could discuss my project at leisure.
     Back home, I had my dinner while watching Tunnel on my iPad through my Hoopla app and the Digital Library services of Fairfield Public Library.  It is getting very interesting as it involves a transnational (British and French) inquiry into a murdered body found in the Euro Tunnel.
     It was about 10.30pm  when I switched off the light and dropped off to sleep.
     Until tomorrow...
 

Working Hard and Meeting a Fellow Fulbrighter

Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Bombay

Working Hard and Meeting a Fellow Fulbrighter

    Namaste from Bombay!

     In another far from fascinating day, I stuck quite steadfastly to routine. I awoke at 5. 30 am and blogged until 7.00 am when I left home for my daily morning walk at Joggers Park.  It makes so much sense to go there earlier before the heat envelopes the city and makes my exercise far more sweaty. This time I listened to America's Greatest Hits and the beginning of the Beach Boys Greatest Hits. Not being the sort of person who listens to a lot of music on her phone, I am really breaking from routine in this respect--and enjoying it enormously.

     I reached home to shower only to discover that I had no hot water!  Crumbs! I had a cold shower then--luckily, it is warm enough in Bombay that you can get away with a cold shower and not suffer too much. So naturally I had to call my Dad to get the phone number of his electrician, Clement. He told me he would come to my place around 2.00 pm--which would suit me fine. 

     I then had my breakfast and began working. I spent almost the entire morning working on my laptop but for a few calls I needed to make to get the internet and cable guys in to complete installing wiring in my studio. I finalized and sent out one abstract for a conference in Calcutta as well as a query for my memoir. 

     Lunch was at 12. 30pm by which time I was feeling rather hungry. My new tiffin had arrived in the morning but I had leftovers of the previous one to finish. After lunch, I napped and began reading Amy Bloom's novel White Houses that is the choice of my Book Club group in Connecticut. It is a piece of historical fiction that looks at the relationship between Eleanor Roosevelt, wife of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, one of America's most beloved Presidents and a woman called Lorena 'Hick' Hickok, journalist and an aide to Eleanor. I am at the very beginning of the novel but I am already reeling from the innuendoes of the lesbian relationship that went on between the clearly butch Hick and Eleanor.  Told from the point of view of Hick, I am trying to assess just how much of this novel is fiction and how much fact. 

      At 2.30 pm, Clement arrived to fix my geyser. I had to borrow a tall stool from my next door neighbor (as I do not have anything of the kind) and with it, Clement managed to get to the ceiling of my bathroom which is a false one. Above it lies the geyser concealed. He discovered that it had to be reset and he did so in a second.  I also asked him to get my exhaust fan working as I could not identify the switch  It turned out that all he had to do was take a pen and nudge the blades of the fan to work--and hey presto, it did! So My work was done in less than twenty minutes.  Clement returned the stool and for a house call, this amazing hand man charged me Rs 150 (a bit more than $2)! 

     I then took a nap and awoke to get back to work. I finished editing the article that Rudy Otter has written on me for an online magazine called Desh Aur Diaspora. There were a few minor aspects of it that I needed to correct before it can go into print. I also corresponded with the Principal of St. Xavier's College to set up a meeting--which he thinks might happen next week.

     I left my home at about 5.45 pm to get to my Dad's place to see Russel and to spend some time visiting with him. Then Dad left to prepare for conducting his Novena and I followed him about 15 minutes later. The Novena to Our Mother of Perpetual Succor was followed by Mass that finished at 7.30 pm. 

Meeting with my Fulbright colleague, Richard Chen See:

     I walked down Zig Zag Road and on to the connecting road going down to Linking Road as I had made plans to meet my fellow Fulbrighter Richard Chen See at KFC. I was stunned by the vast number of restaurants that have opened up on that road--there is almost every offering imaginable from Mini Punjab to Karachi Cafe and Bakery, from a hip placed called Poetry to another place called 99 Pancakes. You could eat your way through the eateries there for a week and not comb them all. Truly Bandra is so 'happening' in terms of its restaurants that it is a foodie's paradise. 

     To my astonishment, I discovered that KFC had closed down. I was told by the watchman that there is now only one branch of it in Andheri. Fortunately, right across the street was McDonald's--so there I went. I called Richard (who was taking his first Hindi class nearby) where I was seated so that he could join me there. 

     At this point I received a phone call from Russel's physiotherapist Lenita telling me that we ought to keep our 10.00 am appointment tomorrow with Dr. Derrick D'Lima at Holy Family Hospital as the doctor will be away for the next 20 days.  We had no choice in the matter.  Although Russel's knee is still oozing, it will be necessary to get the fiberglass cast on his shin to stabilize it and then address the knee. I called Dad and gave him the update and called Ewell, my friend, who usually arranges for the ambulance and got the number from him so that I can call for it tomorrow.  He gave me the numbers but told me that he would call tomorrow. Truly, these ambulance runs are also becoming routine for me.

     Richard arrived at about 8.30 pm and the two of us decided to go to McDee's for dinner.  I had last been there about four years ago with my niece and nephew when I had taken them out for a treat on one of my visits to Bombay.  We ordered a combo meal that consisted of a Rice Bowl (Cheesy for me, Spicy for Richard) with Chicken and a Chocolate Milk Shake each. The Rice Bowl was delicious and although the milk shake was okay, it made me crave the fabulous, super-thick, ice-creamy, absolutely unbeatable Chocolate Fudge Milk Shakes from Shake Shack which are truly one of the great indulgences of my life and which I would like to be a part of my last meal--if ever I was offered such a choice!    

     Richard and I caught up on what has been happening in each others' lives--I had to tell Richard that my brother's condition has meant that almost all of September has gone without my being able to get any Fulbright research done. However, I am not entirely frustrated on the work-front as I managed to get a lot of other work-related things done which are all part and parcel of my regular output--like reading final proofs of my Goa Book and finalizing a new plenary address for the conference in Hyderabad as well as designing the Powerpoint presentation that will be part of it--not to mention meeting with a new publisher and sending out a query to another one for my memoir. No, I have been more than productive in the circumstances and I ought not to feel guilty. 

     Richard told me that his dance classes at Dance Works and at two outfits in Dadar and Bandra are going well. He is the first Fulbrighter to come to India to teach modern dance and from what he told me, his schedule is grueling. Plus he is learning Hindi and trying to integrate himself as well as he can in the life of the city.  He lives in a one-bedroom apartment in chaotic Andheri but likes it as it is walking distance to the dance class with which he is most frequently affiliated. 

     Richard and I parted company at 9.15pm and I took a rickshaw home. I tried to watch a bit of Tunnel while eating custard-apple ice-cream for dessert; but I was falling asleep all over my iPad and gave up the fight at 10.15 pm when I prepared for bed by brushing and flossing my teeth.

     Until tomorrow...   

Russel Gets a Walker and Visiting St. Stanislaus School and St. Peter's Church in Bandra

Tuesday, September 25, 2018
Bombay
  
Getting Russel Gets a Walker and Visiting St. Stanislaus School and St. Peter's Church

       Namaste from Bombay!
       I have changed my routine slightly as it is now getting warmer and humidity levels are higher.  It is far better that I get out earlier in the morning for my walk so that I return before it gets too oppressive.
     Accordingly, I awoke at 5.30 and began reading, responding to email and sending out some of my own. At 7.00 pm, I washed, brewed a cup of coffee and sat on one of the stools that I picked up from my Dad's place which is now in my balcony.  The air was fresh, green and very cool.  I enjoyed my coffee while reading The Only Story by Julian Barnes in my balcony on my iPad. Little by little, my place feels lived in.
    I then left my studio and walked briskly to Jogger's Park where I spent the next 45 minutes.  It is amazing how exhilarated I feel by this morning exercise. Today I listened to Linda Ronstadt's Greatest Hits. The tang of salt air as it rises from the Arabian Sea even when the tide is out is such a great companion as I watch what other folks do in the park.  Some do yoga, complete with yoga mats spread on the grass.  Others sit facing the sea in solitary meditation. Others congregate with friends--males and females separately--and start the day with a healthy gossip session. There are fast walkers, there are joggers and this morning, there was actually a cockerel on the Jogging Track!
     I got home and jumped into the shower. Then I sat down to eat my breakfast as I was starving. I realized that birschersmuesli tastes just fabulous cold! And something cold was what I needed after my body became so heated from all that exercise. While eating, I watched Escape to the Continent. This time? Lisbon in Portugal.  This shows brings back such warm memories for me of all these parts in Europe in which I have rambled at such leisure through the years.

Chained to my Computer:
     And then I began working... and I worked and worked and worked. I finalized my plenary address for the Hyderabad conference on 'Translation' by finishing up all end notes, annotations and citations. I also finalized the Powerpoint Presentation I will be making there to accompany my talk.  Next, having received an invitation to present a paper at a conference in Calcutta in December, I reviewed the Call for Papers and began to draft an abstract.  I will be presenting on fictional representations of Anglo-Indian women in the Victorian Age with reference to migrant transnational labor. This will be based on the research I had done in the British Library in London in 2016 and a modification on the paper I had presented at the University of Edinburgh (which is soon to be published in an anthology of essays on 'Gender and Immigration'). Drafting the abstract took most of the morning, but I was satisfied with the end result.
      I also followed up through email on the meetings I need to arrange at St. Xavier's so that I can begin my research on my Fulbright project.  I am also waiting for Russel's leg to be set in the fiberglass cast before I resume my work in downtown Bombay.

Lunch, A Nap, Some More Work:
     I stopped for lunch at 12. 30 pm (a repeat of my tiffin from yesterday) and watched the rest of Escape to the Continent.  I then read some more of my novel before I felt sleepy enough to take my usual 20 minute power nap. When I awoke, I began working on my computer again.
     At this point Dad called me to tell me that the physiotherapist Lenita who is working on Russel's movements now says that she needs a walker. Dad told me where I could get one--at St. Peter's Church, where they hire out these medical accessories for a small deposit. Dad asked if I would help out by going there and getting a walker for Russel. I told him I would be glad to help out.
    Hence, at 4.00 pm, I stopped working to have a pot of tea with biscuits and the walnut cake I had bought from Venus.  It was very mediocre but tasted better when jazzed up with a spread of peanut butter and Nutella and some more chopped walnuts that I added. I do miss really good fudgy chocolate cake when I am anywhere outside the US.
     I also make arrangements to meet with a classmate to pay a condolence visit to our friend Nilu whose sister Shahnaz's Memorial Service I had attended last week.  My classmate Iris said she would come along. We were in the midst of making WhatsApp plans, when I heard from another classmate, Beulah. I was delighted to find out that after spending about 15 years in Saudi Arabia, Beulah and her husband are back in Bombay for good. Although they do live a ways from Bandra, they are in the same city and I will have occasion to meet her.  I invited Beulah to join Iris and myself and she told me she'd be glad to if she could organize a getaway from her place for the evening. It is amazing how good it feels to reconnect with these former classmates with whom I shared such fabulous times in our younger days.

At St. Stanislaus' School and St. Peter's Church--Getting Russel a Walker:
     By 5.15 pm, I left my place for the walk to Hill Road and St. Peter's Church. It was while I was rambling along these tree-lined avenues that form the bylanes of Bandra that I was sharply reminded of my time living in Oxford.  While there too, I used to walk everywhere. I absolutely adore small university towns and Bandra feels like one--except that instead of Gothic colleges, it is filled with Catholic schools. As you stroll from one lane to the next, you pass by Catholic schools galore with their old Victorian and Edwardian-designed buildings and their sprawling sports grounds in which youngsters are always at play. I passed by St. Andrew's Boys School and then St. Joseph's Girls School before I entered the gates of St. Peter's Church and St. Stanislaus' Boys School.
     And how great it felt to be steeped in academia of the high school variety! The school building is rich in my own family's history for my Dad graduated from St. Stanislaus' School. He had arrived at age nine from Mangalore where he was born, following the death of his father. His family relocated to Bombay where he was raised by his eldest brother Ben who was already of working age. His sisters were placed as boarders at nearby St. Joseph's School while Dad was placed in St. Stanislaus'.            From a very young age, he told me that he stood out.  For one thing, thanks to the coaching he had received from his brother Ben, he already knew the Latin Mass and all the Latin prayers by heart.  Hence, he became the youngest altar boy at St. Stanislaus' and the only one who already knew the entire Latin Mass. He told me that, in those days (the 1930's), the Mass was said entirely in Latin by a priest who faced the tabernacle and 'backed' the congregation. All the altar boys were required to stand at the foot of the altar responding to the Latin prayers.
     Once a week, on Sundays, Dad told me that he would be required to serve Mass at St. Joseph's School for the nuns of the convent and and the female boarders.  He said that he really looked forward to this Mass as it was always followed by a princely breakfast! Dad, whose family was not well endowed (especially following the untimely death of his father), was a third-class boarder at St. Stanislaus'--he always said now awful the food was and how difficult he found it to swallow anything! In fact, the Jesuit priests used to think that he was making a sacrifice by not eating and would urge him to do so.  "How could I tell them that the food was so awful that it just would not go down?" he said to me, recently. Hence, his anticipation of those delicious and generous breakfasts provided by the good nuns.
     So there was I--looking upon this building that was a home to my father during this childhood and teenage years. It absolutely brought a lump to my throat in the same way that visiting St. Josephs School in Agripada had done, in January this year, when I had gone there with Dad and my cousins Blossom and Zita, to walk in the footsteps of my mother who had been a boarder there herself. How different my own school days (as a day scholar at St. Agnes' High School in Byculla) were compared with those of my parents!
    But I did not linger long in quiet reflection as I had a mission to accomplish.  I found the room in which the items to be rented out are kept--all sorts of medical equipment from wheelchairs and potty chairs to walkers and air mattresses. I met a man called Cajji (short for Cajetan) who told me that the person in charge was one Russel D'Souza--how coincidental! For that is exactly the name of my  brother who needed a walker! Cajji gave me Russel's number and told me to call him to find out when he would be back.  Russel was lovely on the phone--he asked me to return at 6. 15 pm.
     This gave me the opportunity to spend some time inside the church. I do not remember when I had last stepped into St. Peter's Church. It had to have been decades ago.  I was amazed at how lovely it was. Even though it was dark (as Mass was not until 7.00 pm), there was enough late evening light for me to appreciate its marvelous structural features. Unlike most Bombay churches, this one is double-galleried--like the Congregational churches in the US. Furthermore, the ceiling is highly decorative with massive plaster of Paris rondels embedded into it. But for the fact that they were painted a dusty rose and were not gilded, I could have been in the interior of the Church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields in London's Trafalgar Square. The altar is being refurbished at the moment and was behind scaffolding. I can imagine how great this church would look with the electric lights switched on. Outside, the church is clad in sand stone and embellished with the usual iconography of Jesuit churches world-wide: The IHS emblem, St. Peter's Keys to Heaven, for instance. It has double domes and a lovely marble statue of Church at the front. While there has been a church on this spot since 1852, the present church building dates from 1938--so my Dad was probably a student here while the building was under construction! He is intrinsically entwined with the building's history. What an architectural gem! And right here in my own backyard. I was stunned.
      Truly Bandra has these astoundingly old churches that are so beautiful that I could spend a whole day just going from one to the other. What an astonishing heritage the Portuguese and Spaniard missionaries have left in Bombay!
     After spending some time in silent prayer, I returned to find Russel D'Souza. He had reached his office and was graciousness itself as he handed me a brand-new walker for the princely deposit of Rs. 500 (less than $10!) He had me sign a form and then, next thing I knew, I was walking out of there with a walker in my hand. I hopped into a rickshaw that I found most conveniently right outside the church and off I went to Dad's place where I deposited it. I also visited with Russel for just a few minutes before Dad and I left for the 7.00 Mass at our own lovely Portuguese Church of St. Anne's perched high up on verdant Pali Hill, one of the poshest areas of Bombay with the wealthiest congregation in the city.

Mass and a Sick Visit from Fr. Savio:
     Mass was said by Fr. Savio who then visited with us at its conclusion.  He told us that he was interested in accompanying Dad back to his place so that he could visit with Russel.  We appreciated the fact that despite his hectic schedule, he made the time to see Russel.  Shortage of priests in Bombay is causing curates to be extremely overworked.  They sit up late into the night finishing up paper work and other ministerial duties.
       Russel was delighted to see Fr. Savio who said a very moving prayer from the heart over him and sprinkled him with holy water. It was a short but very meaningful visit.
      Dad then busied himself heating Russel's dinner as I left to get back home. He gave me a container of drumstick curry which he said that neither he nor Russel like.  Since I enjoy it, I was quite happy to have it.  The drumstick curry, a pan roll and beans with potatoes formed my dinner which I enjoyed while watching Tunnel on my Ipad (downloaded from my local Fairfield Library through the Hoopla app). I love Clemence Poesy ever since I saw her in the TV version of Sebastian Faulks' Birdsong opposite a very young and very unknown Eddie Redmayne.

Conclusion of The Only Story:
      Before bed, I finished reading The Only Story by Julian Barnes and felt deeply disturbed by the ending. As expected Susan, the female protagonist of the story, sinks deeper into alcoholism as the years go by until the young Paul can no longer look after her and 'returns' her to her daughter Martha. He abandons his potentially successful career as a lawyer to take a job working for a cheese company and sampling its wares at local fairs. Years later, after he has spent many decades overseas, he returns to England and has a brief visit with Susan. She had degenerated to the point of non-recognition of those around her.  At the end of the novel, she is committed to an institution for the insane where Paul--still single, still nursing his enormous love for the much-older woman--goes to meet her. She does not recognize him at all. He leaves with the realization that he has finally become completely indifferent to her and that he is no longer able to stir up any feelings for her at all.
     The book is an entire treatise on love, on its many ramifications and on the different kinds of impact it can have on each individual. An extremely sad book but written with mastery over craftsmanship in the stream-of-consciousness style that only a veteran like Julian Barnes (or Ian McEwan or Martin Amis) could muster.
     I went to bed thinking of all the things I will need to finish tomorrow as my work marches on.
     Until tomorrow...            

Getting Back to Routine

Monday, September 24, 2018
Bombay

Getting Back to Routine

     Namaste from Bombay!
     Morning routine has set in--I was up at 5.30 and got on with it: blogging, reading, emailing. Julian Barnes' book The Only Story is getting very sad now.  While it began on a light and breezy note, the love story between the 19 year old university student and the 48 year old mother of two grown-up girls in mid-20th century England, has soured quickly. At this point, the poor woman, violently beaten by her husband, is slowly unravelling. She has become a pill-popper and an alcoholic.  His love remains steadfast.  Everyone thinks she is a crazy lady and that he is her lodger. I cannot wait to find out what happens at the end. It cannot but be a tragedy.

Off to Jogger's Park for Morning Exercise:
     Determined to return to routine after Russel's hospitalization, I washed, dressed and had a cup of coffee.  Then, at 7.45, I tied on my sneakers and left for Jogger's Park.  I took ten rounds around the Jogging Track which I shared with a smattering of other joggers and walkers.  The track is just the best thing in the vicinity. Indeed the entire park is a delight and I feel so blessed to have this spot. I am using the time to listen to music--today it was Barbra Streisand's Greatest Hits. How lovely to get back to listening to music again.

Bagels for Breakfast:
     An hour later, I got back home and had a shower and a shampoo as I was truly dripping with perspiration. Once out, I had my breakfast--the other half of my Everything bagel with pesto cream cheese, nutella and peanut butter--not altogether--and coffee. It made a welcome change from my muesli brekkie daily. While munching, I watched Escape to the Continent on Netflix. This time, the couple was in one of my favorite parts of Europe--Salzburg in Austria. I adore this show.

Back to the Salt Mines:
     Then, I sat down at my computer--it was 10.30 am and for the next two and a half hours, I was at work. There was so much to catch up on--email from NYU, from my publisher in Goa, from Rudy Otter of the UK who is working on an article on me for a Dubai-based periodical, to the vendors (my cable man, my internet man) who need to get back to finish the work they started at my place. I also finished the Powerpoint presentation on which I am working for the conference in Hyderabad. Tomorrow, I need to send out two abstract for conferences in Calcutta in December and in Chennai (Madras) in January.

Lunch, Reading, A Nap and Grooming:
     At 1.00 pm I stopped (mainly because my back was aching). Actually I had to do a few stretching exercises to get the tired muscles to relax. Then, I had my lunch as a new tiffin had been delivered in the morning (spicy mince curry, pan rolls and beans with potatoes). It was all delicious.  I continued watching my Netflix while eating.
     I did some reading of the Julian Barnes book after lunch, after which I look a nap for 20 minutes. It is getting warmer in Bombay and the humidity is definitely on the rise. I find myself putting my ceiling fan on higher settings now. I am also enjoying ice-cold water from the fridge which was never my preference back home.
     After my nap, I continued working. I need to make appointments with a number of people and reaching out to them took a while.
     At 4.00 pm, being that it was 'Me Monday', I trimmed my nails and gave myself a home manicure and pedicure. I also trimmed my eyebrows and did general weekly grooming. Then, I stopped for a cup of tea and three chocolate biscuits and dressed to go to my cousin Veera's house for a visit.

Visiting my Cousin Veera:
     Veera is my realtor cousin whose contacts got me this lovely studio in Bandra that I am occupying. I had wanted to go across to her with a Thank you gift for ages; but just when I was ready to do so, Russel was hospitalized and the next fortnight passed in a blur. Now that he is back home, I made going to see her a priority.
     I walked briskly along the Bandra bylines to Venus Bakery. From there, I picked up a heart-shaped Black Forest Cake for Veera and two bars of cake (English Fruit and Nut Cake for Dad and Russel and Walnut Cake for me). Veera lives two minutes away from Venus. I reached her place by 5.00pm and was very happy to find her daughter Sybil also at home.  We had a very interesting catch up for the next 45 minutes when I left their place to make my way to Dad's to see Russel.

Visiting My Mum's Grave, St. Andrew's Church and Walk Along Chimbai Fishing Village:
     Along the way, I passed by the graveyard of St. Andrew's Church by the Sea and I decided to go and visit my Mum's grave as I had not done so since my arrival in Bombay. Quite by chance, as soon as I entered the graveyard, I bumped into my other cousin, Linnet, who was waiting there for a friend. We visited for a few minutes. I spent a while in prayer at Mum's grave and then made a lightning visit into St. Andrew's Church. This is the oldest church in Bombay and was built the same year as the Taj Mahal in the mid-1500s. Built in Portuguese style, its altar is simply spectacular.  Recently repainted and refurbished to coincide with the 500th anniversary of the church's existence, the altar and the interior of the church glow and are just stunning.
     I then walked along Chimbai Fishing Village towards my home. I find that while initially I felt uncomfortable in these more traditional, less developed, parts of Bandra, now I blend in completely--just as I did when I walked along 125th Street in Harlem in New York (much to everyone;s consternation). I needed to pick up a few things from my place for Dad. In five minutes, I was at Dad's place and visiting briefly with Russel who was keeping himself occupied watching TV (Crime Patrol). He continues to remain in good spirits and is simply delighted to be back home again.

Mass and Dinner: 
    Dad and I then left together for the 7.00 pm at St Anne's Church and returned home at 7.45 pm.  Dad needed some help filling some forms and reading out some letters he had received from his gas and phone companies.  I helped him out and then left as he got ready to take charge of Russel's dinner.
     Back home at my studio, I got ready for my own dinner--a repeat of my lunch with half a guava for dessert. I tried watching a couple of other shows on Netflix but without my British shows like Midsomer Murders, etc. I feel lost. I did find that there are a lot of British detective TV shows I can download on Hoopla on my I pad and I am hoping I will be able to transfer them to my TV as soon as the rest of my wiring is all done.
     At 10.30pm, I switched my light off and went to bed after what had seemed like a day that represented a return to routine to me.
     Until tomorrow...

Sunday was Made for Chillin'

Sunday, September 23, 2018
Bombay

Sunday was Made for Chillin':

     Namaste from Bombay!

     I am always grateful to the Lord that He rested on the seventh day! Today, all of us did so too!

     However, my day began early as usual--darn body clock! I awoke at 5. 30 am and got a bit of blogging done before I realized I had to rise and shine and get to church for the 8.00 am Mass. I washed and made my bed and got dressed and was out like a shot at 7.40 am as I was meeting Dad at the end of his building's driveway at 7.45am. He arrived on cue and off we went.

Sunday Mass Starts Day Off Right:
     I have always preferred to go to Mass on a Sunday as that makes me feel as if I have kept the day of obligation. As someone who goes to daily Mass, it makes no sense to me to go to the Saturday evening mass and not go on Sunday.  That said, since I arrived here in Bombay, I have been accompanying Dad to the 7.00pm Mass on Saturday evenings as that was his routine. So I was quite happy to leave early in the morning for the 8.00 am Mass as that is the one that Llew and I attend at our own church in Southport, Connecticut.
     I do not enjoy the Masses here in Bombay.  In general, I find them boring.  Added to which I am not a fan of one of the priests here who is a lousy preacher.  Why is it that the ones who cannot speak to save their souls give the longest sermons? Do they think that length will make up for quality or delivery or ability to convey a message? I try.  I Honestly do try, to give them my fullest attention. But two minutes into their monologues and they have lost me. Most of them have absolutely have no idea how to formulate a speech. As someone who speaks for a living, I often wish I could teach them a thing or two about drafting a sermon that would hold the audience's attention! Would they care to learn from laymen? Why must we be subjected to this kind of torture, Mass after Mass, day after day? If I were this kind of a speaker, you can be assured I would lose my job in a jiffy.  Why is it that just because they have no danger of losing their 'jobs', we must have this inflicted upon us????
    So my mind just wanders as this priest drones on.  I told Dad, the more I get to know this priest, the less I like him. OK, enough said.
     The best part of the Mass was interacting with friends outside church once Mass was over.  There was coffee and batata wadas--an Indian snack that consists of spiced potato balls that are batter fried. These are often sandwiched inside a soft loaf of local bread called pau to make a popular Bombay street food called wada-pau. I have never tasted one of these and decided to take one home for Russel as Dad picked one up and I did too--for us.

Breakfast with Dad and Russel:
     On the way back, as Dad disappeared to run an errand, I passed a popular local eatery called The Bagel Shop.  I decided to go in and find out prices and if they also sold cream cheese.  Then I got so tempted to buy one and decided to pick up an Everything bagel (for Rs. 56--that's about 75 cents) and some cream cheese--that was Rs. 192 for 100 gms. They have it in varied flavors and I tried Pesto Cream Cheese. I asked if he could toast my bagel--which, he said, would take 5 minutes.
     I intended to eat my bagel at my studio with hot coffee but Dad invited me to have breakfast with him and Russel and I decided to pay Russel a visit anyway to see how he was doing.  So with coffee at Dad's, we all ate our wada-paus! It was a nice breakfast and it was a nicer visit.  Russel is in great spirits and so thrilled to be back home. He is moving about the bed quite easily--he sits, turns, can swing his good leg down, etc. We ate our breakfast by his bedside so that we could all be part of the chatter.  Dad then told me to return for lunch.
     Then, I left and reached home and decided to complete my breakfast.  I made myself another cup of coffee and had half my bagel--which had become so horridly soft by this point--with cream cheese.  The pesto cream cheese was absolutely delicious! How come I have never thought of doing this--adding pesto to cream cheese???

Just Chillin':
    I spent the next couple of hours just relaxing.  I became acquainted with the channels I have on my TV and the many different programs that are available.  I also reviewed my Iceland travelogue as Llew requested me to email it to a friend in Connecticut who is planning a trip there.  I chatted with Llew and with Chriselle online and the time passed quickly.

Lunch with Dad and Russel:
     I then took to Dad's place my Tupperware containers with my food which was delivered on Friday and which I had not touched.  I also took four slices of pizza from my dinner last night with Shahnaz at Bandra Gym so that he and Russel could enjoy them. With Dad's tiffin also opened up, we had a grand buffet with Chicken Curry, Pomfret Curry, lady fingers with potatoes, snake gourd with lentils, pan rolls and chicken cutlets. For dessert, there was fresh pomegranate that Dad had painstakingly cleaned. I love it but do not ever buy it as I do not have the patience to remove each little seed!
     After visiting with Dad and Russel for another hour, I returned home to my studio for a lovey Sunday nap.

A Lazy Afternoon and Evening:
     Apart from finishing up a Powerpoint presentation that I wish to make in Hyderabad as part of my plenary address at the conference on Translation at Maulana Azad University, I did not do any work today. I have been put down in the program and I am looking forward very much to the entire experience. I do so hope I can attend, what with everything that is going on at Dad's.
     So I continued watching TV and emailing and texting friends.  I was determined that I was going to completely relax today. I stopped in the late afternoon to take a shower and then made myself a pot of tea which I ate with chocolate biscuits.
      In the background, I could hear the festivity associated with the last day of the Ganpati festival when the clay idols are immersed in the sea. There was drumming and music and also the sounds of fireworks.
     I started to think about dinner but then I realized that I had left my food and my Tupperware containers in Dad's house! This meant that I would need to hop across again for dinner!
     My friend Delyse from Connecticut and I then sat on the phone and chatted on whatsapp for about 45 minutes.  We had so much to catch up on.  It was a fabulously satisfying conversation and I felt so fortunate to have the close friends I do who enrich my life in such meaningful ways.
     Meanwhile, the India Versus Pakistan match had started in Dubai and I knew that Dad would be glued to the TV. He told me to arrive at his place at about 8.00 am which I did--good job he literally lives just five minutes walk from my place!
    Right enough, both he and Russel were watching the match. Pakistan was doing well. We stopped and finished off all our leftovers between the three of us and are now ready to receive fresh food tomorrow morning. This meal delivery service is simply the best!
    Back home, I served myself some lovely fig ice-cream and enjoyed it while watching Line of Duty which I am finding compelling.
    I switched off the light at about 10.45pm and went straight to bed.
    It was a grand Sunday--exactly as Sundays are meant to be. Tomorrow, I will need to catch up on everything that I have kept pending over the last 13 days and get back again into the swing of my work here in Bombay.
     Until tomorrow...
        
   

What a Day! Russel is Discharged and Dinner at Bandra Gymkhana

Saturday, September 22, 2018
Bombay

What a Day! Russel is Discharged and Dinner at Bandra Gymkhana

     Namaste from Bombay!
     So it is over! Our vigils of countless hours in the hospital over Russel came to a close at the end of today. But, to begin at the beginning..

A Friend's Blog:
     I awoke, as usual, at 4. 30 pm and began working. In addition to blogging myself, I am reading the blog posts of my Fulbright colleague Richard Chen See who is teaching Modern Dance under the Fulbright-Nehru Fellowship at dance schools in Bombay. Thanks to Russel's sudden hospitalization, it has not been possible for us to meet yet. But it is interesting to read his impressions of Bombay in his blog and to 'see' the city from the perspective of a foreigner--an American with no previous experience of the state capital. Things that I take for granted, he finds daunting. Like taking a local commuter train to get downtown--granted, I too had to steel myself to withstand the initial discomfort of crowds. From reading his blog, I had to wonder why Uber does not accept my credit card when I select it as my preferred mode of payment. I decided to go into my Uber settings and find out if I had done something wrong.  And lo and behold--I found that I had not programmed the 3-digit security number. The default number was in there! Well, I changed that pronto. Let us hope Uber will now accept my US credit card the next time I take a ride.  Thanks Richard!!!
     I also finalized my plenary address for the Conference at Maulana Azad University in Hyderabad to which I have been invited early next month. It is now ready and meets the time limit of 45 minutes for delivery. Next, I began work on the Powerpoint presentation that will accompany my speech. As I require the internet to source images, this is not something I can do while seated at the hospital when my duty begins. However, I had to stop at 7.00 am to hop into the shower, dress and have my
breakfast (muesli and coffee), and leave for the hospital at 8.00 am as I did want to be there with Dad.

Getting a Move On at the Hospital:
     Today was a big day as we all lived in anticipation of Russel's discharge from the hospital.  Going by what the doctors had told me last night, I had conveyed to Russel that he would be discharged today.  Hence, at the hospital, I found him calm and eager to get the heck out. He was eating his breakfast when I got there (boiled egg, 2 slices of bread and butter and coffee) and was in good spirits.
   The morning passed slowly as I read Julian Barnes The Only Story. It is slow going--the plot is dragging on. As in most of Barnes' novels, he is very much the experimentalist. He tells us early in the novel that it is about memory--or more properly about the memories garnered by the protagonist-- 19 year old "Casey Paul"--of his affair with a married mother of two grown-up daughters, who was in her late-forties when he got entangled with her. It is a sort of stream of consciousness novel and so there is very little of a story to it. However, Barnes' telling of the tale is compelling.  Like all great writers, his words are so powerful, so evocative of a mood and of a certain mental state in a young man's life that I keep wanting to find out what happens next. A good book, certainly.
     Dad and I went down for lunch together to the hospital cafeteria where he introduced me to something called Bread Pakoras--it is basically half a sandwich (a triangle) that is filled with spicy potatoes and then batter fried. He had it with a coffee while I had a Frooti--a mango drink. The sandwich was delicious! We chatted during lunch about what lies ahead for Russel and what sort of arrangements we need to make, going forward for his recovery at home.

Some More Impressions About Holy Family Hospital:
     When after lunch, there was still no sign of a doctor to order Russel's release, I had to get cracking to get things moving along.  While I have to say that overall I am very satisfied with this hospital, there are some things about it that are simply infuriating.  Nothing gets done unless relatives step in and push things along. There is zero coordination between doctors and nurses (who function mainly as admin support). Doctors tell patients one thing but there is no recording made of it in the patients' file--hence, nurses often do not act on doctors' orders. On two occasions, Dad who is ultra-vigilant, found a nurse altering Russel's dosage of a certain medication. When questioned, she said, "Doctor said..." When my Dad persisted and said, "Which doctor said?" she was nonplussed. She darted off to the Nurse's Station and then retracted her statement without so much as an apology.
     When the patient Paul was in the next bed, his nephew Melroy who happens to be a physician (a liver and pancreas specialist) in Stockholm, Sweden, found a tablet that ought to have been given to Paul lying on the floor. He told me, "Where I practice Medicine, this would constitute gross negligence. Here, anything goes..." And he is right. Everything associated with the Nurses in this hospital is a disgrace.
      I have learned not to compare US health care with what I find here--comparisons are odious and if you are going to compare, then in all fairness, you ought to take into consideration the colossal cost differences between what patients pay for health care in the US and what we are expecting to pay in this hospital. So, let me not sit on my American high horse and judge. That said, I have found the nurses to be responsive when you sit on their case and insist that something gets done. Sr. Sevika, who has been assigned to Russel, is lovely--she is soft-spoken, kind and efficient. But she is not always on duty and the ones who work in her stead...well, the less said about them the better. Besides, how can I expect nurses to nurse when they are required to do so much routine admin work for which the hospital really ought to employ a host of secretarial staff?
     Anyway, only after I went to the Nurse's Station and demanded I speak to a doctor did things start moving. Dad and I were concerned as Russel's tension continued to mount as the morning progressed. While we had kept him in check all morning with the line, "The doctor will be here soon..." it also became apparent that no doctor was likely to materialize. Hence, my prodding--which produced instant results. Dr. Vijay was called on the phone; he spoke to me and said that Russel could be discharged. He would give the order right away and billing processes would begin. He would also come around at 3.00 pm to give us instructions on how to manage the drainage tube and bag still attached to Russel's knee.
     Phew! What a relief! We conveyed the good news to Russel that he would be discharged and the long and arduous process of leaving the hospital began. Again, Russel did not sleep a wink today. He was wide awake and alert and wished to participate in every aspect of his discharge. It was 1.00 pm then and I was on my feet from that point on until 6.15 pm when the ambulance finally arrived to take Russel from his ward to the vehicle to his flat. I made countless trips up and down elevators to pay the bill (far less than we had imagined--I told you! Health care costs are very reasonable in this hospital) and then get a refund (for we had paid an advance far in excess of the actual bill). I returned drugs that had not been used (yes, in India, they do take them back provided they are unopened and still in their original packaging) at the pharmacy and received a refund for the visitors' passes that we were issued to get in and out of the hospital as attendants.
     I texted the physiotherapist to find out if she would give him a last hospital session--she said she would be there at 4.00 pm. I also went to the Historiography Department to pick up the biopsy report on Russel's synovec and knee bone--but it was not ready and I was told to expect a call on Monday or Tuesday. Bone biopsy, they informed me, takes longer as the bone has to de-calcify before they can analyze it. Next, I met with the Residents, Dr. Vijay and Dr. Parth, who showed our day attendant how to manage Russel's knee drainage bag and also gave Dad and me further instructions on returning to the hospital this coming Thursday to remove stitches and to place his knee in a fiberglass cast. They explained that the cast will go all the way up and cover the knee cap. It will be molded in such a way that he will be able to flex it slightly so that he can move around gradually under guidance from a physiotherapist.
     Lenita, the physiotherapist, arrived at 4.00 pm at which point I had to organize an ambulance to take Russel back home.  Given the hour of the day--evening peak hour rush--it was caught somewhere in traffic and would take at least an hour, they said, for them to pick up Russel. He grew more anxious as time passed and with it Dad's stress levels also grew. I watch my Dad's reactions and I thank the Lord silently each time that He has endowed me with calm in the face of calamity. I tried hard to quell growing levels of stress all around me as I coped with the tasks of the afternoon. Somewhere along the way, the drainage tube started leaking and Dr. Parth had to be called in to redo the knee dressing.
     Eventually, the ambulance guys did arrive and a super-eager Russel (who had supervised our packing of all our stuff into our bags and who demanded to know the amount of the final bill!) was wheeled out of the ward, into the elevator and into the ambulance. We were home about 20 minutes later--thankfully, the hospital is very conveniently located. It took six grown men to haul him up the few stairs to my Dad's apartment but he was finally in his room and on his bed and his relief was palpable although he does not really express emotion easily.
     I stayed around for about a half hour to make sure he and Dad were comfortable and then I left. I stopped at the local grocery store to buy things like Bisleri water, a roll of paper towels (which I learned is called "kitchen roll" in India!), Schweppes Tonic water and a new local cereal I am trying called Harvest Crunch. I asked them to home-deliver my buys and then walked to my place.

Unwinding at Bandra Gym:
      I simply had to get back to my own space after what had been a harrowing day and find a way to decompress. I called my friend Shahnaz and asked her if she would join me at the Bandra Gymkhana for a drink and a bite. She was up to her eyes in paper work but jumped at the chance to get away from it for a while. We made plans to meet at the Gym at 8.00 pm and I got dressed.    
    We met at 8.00 at the Gym entrance as scheduled and rode in the elevator up to the third floor dining hall which was already fairly full. We settled down with drinks (G and T for me, Heineken for her) and starters: the most delicious stir-fried garlic-pepper prawns with whole peppercorns that were amazingly flavorful and 'crostini' which was a selection of four bruscehtta--cheese, tomato, mushroom and olives--all fab. For dinner we chose to share a Jungli (veg) Pizza which was amazing with kulfi (Indian ice-cream) which we shared for dessert.  The food at the Bandra Gym is excellent and I am so glad that I took the plunge to use my membership, for the first time since I have arrived in Bombay, over drinks and dinner with a friend. I could unwind completely from all the stress and running around of the day.

What I Have Learned Over the Past 13 Days:
     What were my final reactions about the entire hospital experience? Well, I patted myself on the back for the quick learning through which I mastered all the hospital systems--13 days ago, I felt like a fish out of water in the hospital. By the time we left, I could guide other people about how to get on!
     I managed to get a whole lot of work done while keeping vigil with Russel--so although I did not do any field research as planned, I was able to proof read a whole forthcoming book on Goa and begin and finish the drafting of a plenary address for my next conference. I was able to do a great deal of reading as well.
      Plus, I got to know doctors, nurses, even menial staff--when I went around thanking and tipping everyone from the sweeper who cleaned the toilet and bathroom in our ward to the smiling girls who served Russel his meals, etc. they were amazed that their contribution was even acknowledged. I do not believe that anyone tips the cleaning and wait staff here. But every single one of these people worked as a team to make Russel's hospital experience as pleasant as it could be--including his ward-mates over 12 days who were wonderfully co-perative and understanding.
     In the hospital, I saw the best side of human nature--kindness, understanding, co-operation from doctors, staff, fellow-patients and their loved ones--and the worst side of it: cruelty meted by a shrew of a sister belittling her vulnerable polio-stricken brother for getting malaria and putting her through "trouble".    
      Best of all were the doctors and interns who were not only astoundingly knowledgeable, but compassionate and kind and communicative. I know now why Indian doctors are among the finest in the world and are in demand all over the planet.  Long may their kindness and expertise reign!
     And finally, I need to reiterate that I consider it a pleasure and a privilege to be here in Bombay at this time and to be able to support my Dad and my brother through this experience which has been such a fantastic learning curve for me. I do not for a second resent the intrusion into my life or my work. Indeed what I have seen of human devotion between my father and his 'special' son during this experience has been a marvelous opportunity for me to reflect on how blessed we are to have Russel in our lives and how blessed he is to have had parents like my Mum and Dad who nurtured him with such constant love and unstinting patience. I learned so much about being a parent and about the kind of devotion that the job calls for--even at this stage it my life, it is never to late! What I can contribute, in my own advanced years, is such a joy and such a blessing that I cannot express it in words.
     Thanks for sharing this hospital journey with me.  I know that although none of you comment on my posts, many of you read my rumination. It feels good for me to know that you are out there and that I have friends who stand in solidarity with me through the best and worst times I experience in life. I have no words to thank you.
     Until tomorrow....
             

Russel's Agitation Grows--A Tough Day at the Hospital

Friday, September 21, 2018
Bombay

Russel's Agitation Grows--A Tough Day at the Hospital

     Namaste from Bombay!
     My morning routine is well established now.  I was awake at 5.00 am and began blogging, emailing and whatsapping with my loved ones in the US. Fortunately, the hammering from the renovation next-door seems to have stopped temporarily.  I stopped for a muesli breakfast with coffee and a TV breather--Escape to the Continent--and then I showered.  My tiffin came along--fabulous pomfret curry (yum!!! It has been ages since I have eaten pomfret), lady fingers with potatoes and cutlets. I then ate my lunch--leftovers from my past tiffin--dressed and got ready to leave for the hospital as Dad and I have fallen into the routine of sharing hospital duty. I get there by 1.15 pm to relieve him so he can go home, get his lunch and a nap and relax in the evening.
     He told me that, unlike the previous days when Russel slept soundly for hours on end, he was very alert today. In fact, today he was a bit too alert and refused to sleep. Dad said that all he is talking about now is going home. He has reached a point of frustration in the hospital and absolutely insists on being discharged.  He keeps saying that he misses his home and wants to get back to his own room and his own bed.
     Dad left at 1.130 pm with instructions for me to dispense tablets at the regular intervals. I tried to read Julian Barnes' The Only Story but it was almost impossible to focus on anything today.  Dad was right.  Russel was very agitated today and I spent most of the day trying to calm him down. He was agitated to the point of boisterousness and I decided that I simply had to stop everything and pray over him. And that was what I did. I invited him to join me in prayer but he was too disturbed to even do that. I prayed over him alone and, you might find this hard to believe, but from about 5.00 pm, he calmed down and stayed that way for the next few hours--Praise God! '
     I can understand Russel's frustration.  Wouldn't you be? Hospitals are very disturbing places. You might think that you can get used to their routines; but all the while you are thinking of what your life will be like once you get back home. It is to Russel's credit that he has been so patient for so long. But now his patience is wearing thin.  Dad and I are worried as Russel suffered a nervous breakdown about 30 years ago. Although he made a complete recovery, we learned enough, in our family, about 'triggers' and about how easily a patient could go over the edge again.  Through the years, we have all become ultra-sensitive to Russel's mood changes. If there is any chance that he might go off the deep end again, we change tactics in interacting with him and try to remove the trigger. I was afraid that keeping him any longer in the hospital would bring on one of his bouts.
     Hence, I promised him that when the doctors came calling, both of us would tell them that Russel wished to go home.  I told him, "Let us tell them how you feel and then let us see what they have to say about it". He agreed and calmed down. However, he simply did not sleep a wink all day today. Not a wink.  He tried, but his mind was too disturbed to allow him to fall asleep.
     At about 8.30 pm, Dr. Vijay came. When we expressed ourselves to him, he simply said that the knee is still ozoing--the bag and drainage tube attached Russel's knee is still showing signs of accumulation. He took me aside and told me that if we lived in Bandra (which we did), he could come home and take off the stitches. He said he thought it unlikely that Russel would stay until next Tuesday.  It might be a good thing to discharge him, he said. He told me he would talk to Dr. Derrick D'Lima and that they would take a decision.  I felt hugely relieved and grateful.
     An hour later, at 9.15 pm, Dr. D'Lima came on his rounds.  Russel was sitting up and told him that he wanted to go home. Dr. D'Lima then took me outside and said that he would come back tomorrow morning and take a look again at Russel's knee. I told him that Dr. Vijay had said that he could come home to remove the stitches.  Dr. D'Lima reminded me that although the stitches could be removed at home, Russel would have to be brought back to the Endoscopy Department so that the leg could be placed in a plaster cast.  This could not be done at home. He told me that he thought it would be best if Russel were discharged tomorrow, provided that we bring him back again next Saturday so that the stitches can be removed and the fiberglass cast placed on his leg.  This seemed to me the best solution to the growing worry about Russel's further confinement in the hospital. So, we will now have to await final discharge orders from Dr D'Lima which will probably come tomorrow morning.
     I conveyed to Russel what Dr. D'Lima said and waved him goodbye. On the road, when walking home, I told Dad on the phone what the doctors had said.  As it looks as if Russel will be discharged tomorrow, Dad requested me to come to the hospital by 9.00 am. to assist him in the discharge procedures.  I told him, I would--not to worry.
    We are not sure if Russel's mood today is an aberration or if it will continue tomorrow.  Each day seems to bring a different mood and different behavior--there is no predicting how he will be tomorrow and whether or not he will be discharged. I prayed extra hard tonight that the Lord would light up the path and show us His will in this situation. Please pause now and join me in prayer.
     Until tomorrow...