Life and Times

The Secret of Mother Gothel

2011-09-19T02:02:00.000+13:00

I saw Tangled, Walt Disney's retelling of the fairy tale of Rapunzel, at the Movies when it first came out here in NZ and last week I watched it again on DVD with Karate Lamb Chops. And I saw something interesting:

The above is a screenshot of Old Mother Gothel glaring as she steals baby Rapunzel from the castle. Does she remind you of someone from the past?

And here is 3D-ish picture of Snow-White's stepmother with her old apple. Creepy.

Here are pictures of them in their youthful forms:

You can't tell much but I think they look kind of similar. Their personalities are pretty similar too: Vain, evil, vain, selfish. Did I mention vain?

We know about how Snow-White's stepmother wanted her stepdaughter killed so she could be the fairest in the land. And Mother Gothel?

Checking herself out in front of the mirror

Her vanity is pretty much the driving force of the film.

My contention is that Queen Grimhilde and Mother Gothel are the same people. You remember how the Queen changed herself into an ugly old hag to give Snow-White the poisonous apple? I believe that after getting chased by the Seven Dwarves and falling off the cliff, the old hag survived. She just broke off a part of her banana-shaped nose and wandered around lost and injured for a while. By the time she found her way back to the palace, Snow-White and Prince Gorgeous were living happily ever after. With the help of the dwarves, the new queen, Snow-White had found and sealed the witch's secret laboratory. So there was no way for the old hag to get back into the palace and change herself back.

So for years she wandered around the towns and villages, mortified by her ugliness. Then one day she found the magic flower from the sun that we see in the opening of Tangled. Because of her background in witchery, she knew the incantation that would work on the flower and restored her former looks again. So most days she would party around the towns and villages looking young and beautiful, coming back to the flower every now and then for a dose of its magic. This time round, though, she wasn't so much interested in being the most beautiful. Her time was now invested in retaining her youth and beauty.

And centuries passed and the flower was taken to heal the queen of the land who was ill. Then came the birth of the cute little princess with the long golden hair. Gothel stole the baby, raised it in a tower and we know the rest. By 'we', I mean those of us who have seen the movie since Disney's version differs drastically from the fairy tale.

About the link between Mother Gothel and Queen Grimhilde, Walt Disney would probably deny it, but what do they know? Or there is a conspiracy going on. Like all the Disney villains are still alive and hiding somewhere. Probably in a secret bunker underground with Hitler. Maybe we'll soon see a villain who looks eerily like Gaston. Somebody alert the President!

Fine, I made the whole thing up. But it works, don't you think?

Anyway, if you haven't seen Tangled yet, I'd totally recommend it. It is just awesomebulous!

Contradictions, Consequences, Blunder and Bible

2011-09-14T00:54:00.001+13:00

In the Youth Fellowship of the NZTCF (New Zealand Tamil Christian Fellowship), we're studying about the Bible. My group had to give a presentation about Inerrancy of the Bible as if we are addressing a professing Christian who thinks that the Bible, though inspired by God, has a lot of errors. I had to do a bit about contradictions in the Bible, textual variations and spiritual consequences. So I'm putting up my part of the presentation here, though I've had to tidy it up a bit.

In its own context, the Bible doesn't have contradictions. But the context is very important. If one is unaware of the context of the words, then there will be a lot of confusion.

Now Romans 14:21 says, "It is good not to eat meat or drink wine or do anything that causes your brother to stumble."

Taking the verse at face value, you might ask. Is it bad to eat meat? Does eating meat make people stumble? Didn't Jesus eat meat? Didn't God provide meat in the wilderness for His people in the Old Testament. There seems to be a contradiction. (I’m leaving out the wine part >_< )

But if you read the whole of Romans 14, you will see that the Apostle Paul is talking about weaker believers who religiously practice certain conventions which, while aren't necessarily wrong, aren't Biblical either. We see an example of a Christian who firmly believes that it is sinful to eat meat. Paul is telling the other believers not be cruel and pick fights with this Christian for his convictions. It is as if he is saying, "So when you're with this guy, it would be great if you could just eat vegetarian like he does, so you don't hurt your Christian brother's feelings over a small matter and cause him to stumble in his Christian walk with God."

Or take this example:

John 20:1 says, “Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb.”(ESV)

Now according to this verse, who went to the tomb early in the morning? Mary Magdalene.

And in this verse, who else is mentioned as being with her? No one.

Mark 16:1, 2 says, “When the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb.”(ESV)

Now according to this verse, who went to the tomb early in the morning? Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome.

Is someone lying? Did John make a mistake? Why didn't he mention the other women? Does this mean the entire account of the Resurrection Morning is wrong and false. Yes, at face value there is a contradiction.

But remember to look at the context! If you continued reading John 20 you will notice the second verse which says this, “So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”
(John 20:2 ESV)

Notice that she says "WE do not know where they have laid him."

Which clearly indicates that John knew that there had been at least one person with her, though he doesn‘t mention their presence. In all honesty, when comparing with Matthew’s account and Luke’s account we can conclude that there were at the least four other women who had gone to the tomb with Mary Magdalene. I don’t know why John didn’t mention them but I have an idea.

Do you remember what happened to Mary Magdalene later as mentioned in John 20? After meeting Peter and John, she went down to the garden near Jesus’ tomb to cry because she thought Jesus’ body had been stolen. There she met a Man Whom she mistook for the gardener. She implored Him to tell her what had happened to Jesus’ body. The Man said one word, “Mary” and she immediately recognised Him as Jesus except He was not dead but alive with a perfectly new body. (Personally, I love the fact that Jesus first appeared to Mary Magdalene, a woman, and not to the men, His disciples.)

I think that, because he wanted to focus on Mary Magdalene’s experience of meeting the Resurrected Lord in the garden, John didn’t bother to mention the other ladies’ names. So no real contradiction here.

Of course there are certain ways that the Bible is not completely perfect. But that has everything to with us humans and nothing to do with God. Some of the apostles who wrote the books of the bible, didn't go to great universities and likely made grammatical errors. But these don’t affect the truth of what they are saying. For example, if one of those Indian Immigrants suddenly came up to you on top of One tree Hill and said in a strong accent, "Take photo me please", his bad grammar doesn't change the fact that he wants you to take his picture.

And there is the thing called copyist error. When the Bible was written there were no printers and the Bible had to be copied down very very very carefully by scribes. Now rarely, but once in a while, the scribe would make a small mistake and subsequent copies of that particular copy may carry that same mistake. Now we don't have the original manuscripts that the prophets and the apostles wrote on but what we do know is that there are many thousands of old manuscripts of the Bible today. And comparing them together, our Bible publishers give us the most accurate version possible in our hands. And we have to believe and trust that God will never let his truth fade away.

Is the belief of Biblical inerrancy necessary for salvation? Just because someone doesn’t believe in Inerrancy, does it mean that they are unsaved? No, there are many good loving Christians who do not believe in inerrancy. And there are people who believe in inerrancy but continue to deny God's truth with their lives.

Belief in the inerrancy of the bible is not necessary for salvation. The only thing necessary is repentance and believing that Jesus has died for our sins. But all the same, not believing that God's Word is perfectly true will lead to problems. There will be questions of what part of the bible is true and which is false. You will be picking and choosing verses that suit your moods and personal worldview which will not give you the complete picture of what God is telling us. Believing that the Bible has mistakes will make you question whether God really is perfect and all knowing and all powerful.

When you encounter spiritual warfare, with accusations and deceptions from the sinful world, according to Ephesians 6, you need to wear God's armour.

“Therefore take up the whole armour of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God,”
(Ephesians 6:13-17 ESV)

But how can you overcome your enemy if you can't trust your sword, the Word of God?

God created us. He knew his children even before the world began. And while great godly men were penning down the words of the Bible, inspired by the Holy Spirit, we were in the very mind of God. The very words of the Bible were written for us by our Heavenly Father. God’s word is a masterpiece of love for His children.

London's Burning

2011-09-07T02:01:00.000+13:00

I know the London Riots are sad but this cartoon makes me giggle.

From www.nzherald.co.nz

Osama Bin Laden is dead! O_o

2011-05-03T04:01:00.001+13:00

From www.nzherald.co.nz

Not too long ago, I had thought that the next time I blogged, it would be about the Royal Wedding. But I think I'll save that for later.

Because, you see, I watched the scene of the Twin Towers crumbling down, nearly ten years ago, on TV from our living room in our flat in Chennai, India.This past afternoon in the living room of our home in Auckland, New Zealand, I watched the news report of the death of Osama bin Laden, the man mainly responsible for 9/11 and many other acts of terrorism.

I'm not American and I can't imagine what Americans and people living in America have gone through since the 11th of September, 2001. But 9/11 changed the world for everyone, including me. There has been so much fear, war and death in the last ten years because of what happened that day. The threat of Al-Qaeda has been looming in the back of every one's mind like an unseeable but omnipresent monster. But now that the bogeyman is dead, there is some closure and peace seems almost attainable again.

The loss of human life is tragic, even Bin Laden's. He was someones father, someone brother. I'm sure that there were some people in his estranged family who, though they disowned him and hated his ideology, loved him and are grieving for him.

But I can't help but feel happy about his death. In fact, I'm shocked at the people criticising the US government for killing Bin Laden without a trial. There are even people who are criticising our NZ PM, John Key and the leader of the opposition, Phil Goff, for being happy about Bin Laden's death on the basis of not believing in the Death Penalty. For those people I'll just quote Harper Lee.

"Mr Finch, there's just some kind of men you have to shoot before you can say hidy to 'em. Even then, they ain't worth the bullet it takes to shoot 'em."

How many people have a problem with Boo Radley killing Bob Ewell?

I believe in second chances. I believe that when someone goes wrong you try your best to reform and change them. But then there comes a time when nothing can be done and you have to consider the safety of others.

Anyone remember Ahmed Omar Saeed Sheikh? He was this nice terrorist man who kidnapped three Britons and an American in New Delhi back in 1994 and threatened to behead them if the Indian Government didn't release his little terrorist friends. Sheikh was arrested and incarcerated in an Indian prison.

Then on December 1999, a bunch of his friends hijacked Indian Airlines Flight 814 and demanded his release in exchange for the lives of the hundred ninety-three passengers and crew members on board. Sheikh was freed but, sadly, by then it was too late for one of the passengers. A 25 year old male on his honeymoon had been stabbed multiple times and later succumbed to his injuries. My cousins and I watched the story unfold in the news in Madurai at my uncle's house. It almost ruined the Christmas break for us.

Sheikh went on to kidnap American Journalist, Daniel Pearl. People all over the world watched and waited, hoping and praying for Pearl's release. I was one among those people, watching the news anxiously. We all know how that sad story ended.

Shiekh was again arrested and is currently awaiting his execution in a Pakistani prison. Even while incarcerated he's caused a lot of trouble. According to the Pakistani newspaper, Dawn, in 2008, he prank-called the President of Pakistan, pretending to be India's Foreign Minister Pranab Mukherjee and almost caused a major war. True story. Only he didn't mean it as a friendly April Fool's joke.

What I'm trying to say is that the US Forces killing Osama bin Laden without trial might have been the safest thing to do. I only hope that he's really dead; to be honest, the buried-at-sea story is a bit too wonky for me.

On a lighter note, NZ Herald has put up some tweets relating to the incident. Here are some of my favourites:

"Wow Osama Bin Laden is dead. Cause of death? Dunno...but I am secretly hoping a giant plane flew into him"

"He never should've facebooked those photos from easter weekend."

"Saddam? Check. Osama? Check. I bet Gaddafi will be making sure the chain is on the door tonight."

"Britain is all happy and celebratory and now the US - it's kind of like a street party..but...bigger. :-)"

"Now that everyone thinks I'm dead, I can go wherever I want! Anyone know if those Lord of the Rings sets are still up in New Zealand?"

"Am I the only one hearing "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" playing in my head right now?"

""I have never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure." - Mark Twain"

"A prince gets married, the bad guy is dead. It's a real Disney weekend here on earth."

"Well they do say weddings and funerals often go together."

".... And that's how the USA out-does the royal wedding"

"That awkward moment when you get Osama and Obama mixed up"

"FOR SALE- 1 Turban,1pair of birkenstock sandals (brown) AK 47 assault rifle and Braun beard trimmer(never used)."

"Not sure how I feel about Twitter being only about a historical day in history. Does no one care about the leftover pizza I'm about to eat?"

"So who actually found Osama bin Laden? Was it the CIA -- or Google Street View?"

"Osama Bin Nada."

"1st of May US time bin laden announced dead, 1st of May 1945 Hitler announced dead. Conspiracy theorists assemble!"

"Oh great, the 9/11 conspiracy theorists are back. Wonderful."

"Hey usa its not all of you, remember australia, NZ and britan helping you on this war. We are not just the outsiders."

"Don't wanna be the Grinch about Osama -- but when Col Sanders died, KFC didn't disappear."

"R.I.P Osama Bin Laden - World Hide And Go Seek Champion (2001 - 2011)"

"With the huge crowd gathered outside the White House, Barack and Michelle should kiss on the balcony."

"Good-night. Sleep peacefully everyone. America Got 99 problems but Osama ain't one."

Darjeeling Tea

2011-04-18T13:16:00.003+13:00

I like Tea. I don’t love it but I do like it. I like the little ceramic cups and the teapot they serve you in Asian restaurants before your meal. I like a cup of hot green tea with my mother after a heavy meal. I just have to have a cup of tea after my Sunday Nana nap, just before evening church service just so I can fresh up for the sermon.

But really, I’m not much of a tea drinker. In fact, there was a time, I really disliked tea, despite the fact that my Mum could conjure up some mean Chai. I didn’t like the taste; I didn’t like the brown colour; I didn’t like the black wet powdery residue it left on the insides of the cup or on your tongue or in the tea strainer.

But that was before my first cup of Darjeeling tea. I guess you’ll have to need a really really good cuppa before you start appreciating tea in general. So here’s the story behind my first good cup of tea.

It was the month of June, 2005, a few months before we left India for New Zealand. We knew those months were to be our last few months in our home-country and we wanted to make the most of it. Now my family and the family of my uncle (my father’s brother) had often talked about making a trip to North India together. We’d spent nearly all our lives in the warm South Indian Plateau and wanted to see something new. We decided that it was finally time for these plans to come to fruition.

But India is a vast huge place, where do we go? Should we see Delhi, in the heart of the country and Agra the location of the Taj Mahal? Or should we see the Thar Desert in Rajasthan. Or should we go to Shimla and get our first glimpse of snow.

Finally we hit upon a plan that everybody liked: We’ll go to the North East of India. We’ll take a train till the New Jalpaiguri Railway Station and immediately take the four-plus hour car trip to Gangtok in the little state of Sikkim. Then we’ll visit the beautiful Himalayan town of Darjeeling and see the tea gardens and the rare view of Mount Kanchenjunga. Then, finally, we’ll take a small pit stop at Kolkata, where my mother had spent her childhood, before returning home to Chennai.

This plan was especially charming to me: I had just finished my important Tenth Standard exams and part of my English syllabus was this beautiful travelogue about Darjeeling by Indian writer R.K Narayan. After reading that lovely piece of writing, I had longed to experience Darjeeling for myself. The enthusiasm was shared by the whole family with the exception of my boy cousin who had studied the same piece of writing at school but hadn’t appreciated it due to a serious lack of imagination(:P).

June came and our trip began. Mum took out all the woollies which we’ve had for years but never really needed before. My uncle’s family arrived at our place from their home city, Madurai. They spent the night with us at our house. The next day we loaded our luggage into two taxis and headed to Chennai’s Central Station. Once there, the nine of us, Uncle, Aunty, Dad, Mum, Older Girl-cousin, Me, Boy-cousin, Little Brother, Little sister (in age order, in case you didn’t guess) boarded the train to New Jalpaiguri.

Two weeks of baggage

We had a wonderful two day train ride in our cosy Air Conditioned compartment simply spending time with each other. We ate our own delicious home-cooked food (cooked by my Aunty) part of the way and ordered train food for the rest.

Boy-cousin educating himself on current events

We read Readers Digests and fought for the window seat.

While the train was static we enjoyed the sights, sounds and smells (at least the good smells) of the railway station. While the train was in motion, we enjoyed the moving countryside, the paddyfields, people in the rural towns, cars on bridges, crowded roads, the bright lights of the city at night and the lone light bulb shining through the window of some unseeable house in the dark nothingness. People, if you’ve never been to India before and get a chance to make the journey, please, please make sure you take at least one overnight train trip. It’s the ultimate Indian experience.

Then some 40 hours after we started, we reached our stop at the New Jalpaiguri station, It was around 1:00 AM in the morning…or night whichever way you want to look at it. It looked like night to us, anyhow. There is the panic and urgency adults may feel when they’re in an unknown place and need to transport five adolescents and two weeks of clothes and necessities out of a train and on to the platform. Once that had been overcome, and the train had left, the natural question was, “What do we do next?” It was too dark to attempt the mountainous car trip to Gangtok and so the logical thing to do would be to find a taxi to convey us to a hotel to spend the night. But, you know, things don’t usually go as planned. Not in my family anyway.

After a conversation with the railway station people, in which Mum who knew a bit of Hindi played translator, we discovered that we were stuck where we were. No taxi would be taking us anywhere until the sun is out and about. This was not good news. We were tired, we were cold; and we needed our beauty sleep.

So we laid down our luggage and spread some newspapers on the floor. Those who were tired enough could sleep on them. This was not very appealing to us. There were cockroaches and rats around and who knows who’d spit on the ground or worse. And did I mention it was cold?

Just as we were settling down, the lights went off. Great. We were left in the dark. The cold dark.

I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Stupid me.

Girl-cousin making sure our luggage don't get wet

It began to rain. Heavy windy rainy. And part of the platform roof was broken. We had to get up and move our bags and baggage closer to the wall so they wouldn’t get wet. We were left in the dark railway station in the cold rain, with cockroaches, rats, strangers who couldn’t speak Tamil or English and that stray dog which looked like it needed a flea treatment. Add an annoyed Boy-cousin who kept staring daggers at Mum and me as if we’d conspired with nature to make his life miserable.

Brother makes the best of a bad situation

I tried to sleep on the ground but I couldn’t. I was worried. What if our trip was nothing like we thought it would be? What if all our plans go awry? What if we were angry and miserable for the rest of the two weeks. I got up from the floor and sat on a bench. The plastic seat was cold. The rain had stopped by now and it was simply quiet. I sat there feeling tired and unhappy and eventually fell asleep. After what seemed like five minutes, I awoke suddenly. I was still very very cold but the dawn was breaking. It was finally morning. Papa and Uncle were talking to some people and then came around with tea (Finally we’ve reached the main subject. The Tea).

“It’s Darjeeling Tea,” said Aunty. I've never liked tea much, but I was cold and my throat was hurting. I took the warm white disposable plastic cup in my hands. I took a sip of the drink.

Patrick Jane, in an episode of the Mentalist (Red Carpet Treatment, fourth episode of Season 3 to be exact) described Tea as ‘a hug in a cup’. That’s exactly what it felt like. The hot cup of tea, sweet and milky warmed my blood and gave strength and energy to my bones. The soreness of my throat was gone and I was awake. My blood sugar was up and I felt happy. The mood change was evident among my family. Everyone was up and ready for what the day might bring. Of course, it was just normal tea. Still the cold and tiredness had made it seem ten times better.

Drinking Tea

A sight for sore eyes

Within a couple of hours, we had hired a car, loaded our luggage and were on our way to Sikkim. In spite of our misadventure, the rest of the trip was great. Even Boy-cousin loved it. He won’t admit it, though. The adventure was everything we thought it would be. And more.

Enjoying ourselves in Darjeeling 3days later

Marvellous Message

2010-06-26T03:06:00.007+13:00

Last Friday was the last Friday of the month and that means Youth Group. We had our youth outing this time. We went to the Hansan Vietnamese Restaurant in Panmure next to the Ten Pin bowling place. The food was very good (and I recommend the place to anyone I know), and after we had eaten we headed to the Church building for our study. We sat in the Sunday school room/Kitchen with the little heater turned on and sang praise and worship songs. Then Pastor Orr started the study.

Pastor Orr had asked us a few weeks ago if there were any topics we'd like to discuss in Youth Group. We gave him a list and at the top of the list was "The Importance of Eschatology". We understood that there are many schools of thought regarding the end times. But are we supposed to follow one of those schools? Which school is right? Why are there so many different views? Is Eschatology, over which people have debated and disagreed, worth the fuss and bother of studying it?

In our last Youth Group meeting when Pastor Orr began our study in Eschatology, he made it very clear that it is a waste of time to fight over which Millenial view is right. But it is also very important to see what the bible says about Jesus' coming since it is a vital part of the gospel.

So this week we went through 1 Thess 4:13 - 5:11 which talks about the hope we have in Jesus' return.

One day, suddenly, Jesus will return. My Ammachi (Mum's mother) who is buried in the cemetery in Madurai and scores of other relatives and friends who have died in Christ will just wake up with glorious new bodies. And I, if I am still around at the time, will be taken up to meet Jesus in the air, with many many others. It is a wonderful thought.

And sadly I didn't feel excited about it at all.

But there was a time I used to be so excited about heaven. I remember singing the Sunday School song "The countdown's getting lower everyday" as a child. I was so excited because I understood that each day is a day closer to Jesus' return. We have this children's book called 'Let's Talk About Heaven'. When I was a youngster, I used to sit with the book on my lap, Old Yeller and The Old Hag sitting on either side of me while I made up a story for them about how we'd go to heaven. It doesn't seem that long ago when I used to look intently at the pink evening sky, marvel at the beautifully shaped clouds and say wistfully to myself, "Maybe Jesus will come on a day like this." Sometimes I'd close my eyes tightly and say to myself, "Maybe Jesus will return by the time I open my eyes." I would image my Aachi (Papa's mother) suddenly dropping her walking stick behind as she is taken up in the air, her old-woman form becoming girlish, her weak limbs strengthened, her wrinkles disappearing as she meets her Saviour in the sky.

But now I fear that if Jesus came today, I would throw up my arms and say, "Wait a minute, please. Can't you give me some more time? A few weeks? A year is even better." Because there is so much I want to see and do. I want to go on a trip to Venice, I want to get married, I want to see what happens in the next chapter of my favourite manga which is being released next week, I want to see the Tintin movie by Spielberg and Peter Jackson. If Jesus came today, I can't do any of that.

When did I become like this? Why am I like Lot's wife, who looked behind longingly at the pleasures of sin and destruction while refuge and redemption was before her. It's as ridiculous as if some of the children of Israel on reaching the promised land say to Joshua, "Aww...is it time already? But we want to wander in the wilderness a little longer."

I know in my head that Heaven will wonderful, amazing and awesome beyond imagination. I know in my head that once I reach there, I'll forget about all the pleasures of the world and will be deliriously happy. After all it wouldn't be heaven if there were sorrow, pain, and tears. But my heart doesn't fully believe or understand it.

I think our study really helped me that day. It helped me remember what the Bible says about the last resurrection. It brought back a part of the excitement I used to have. And I'm now trying to let go of the things that seem to weigh me down to earth.

Do you feel a tad apprehensive about leaving earth and going to heaven? Does the idea of Jesus' return no longer excite you? Are any of you finding that you're laying up treasures in earth and not in heaven? Isn't it time you did something about it?

Because the fact that Jesus is coming is really a marvellous message like the hymn says.

Marvelous message we bring;
Glorious carol we sing,
Wonderful word of the King:
Jesus is coming again!

What do you think...?

2010-05-25T16:57:00.004+13:00

...about me changing my blog name to "Life of a (young) Old Maid" to celebrate my marriage-less state which may (I fear with increasing paranoia) turn out to be permanent.

It can't be too bad, though. I'll have two cats (a tabby named Belinda and a three-legged ginger named George), take Sunday School, write children's novels including a History Of India for kids and pretend to be the mean old crosspatch next-door and shake my cane (I mean to have one) at the neighbourhood children.

That sounds like fun, no? :)

My new favourite song

2010-05-12T01:27:00.002+13:00

My sister, The Old Hag showed me this video from youtube. It is the song Rainbow Connection sung a much much much younger Lea Salonga. I've heard this song before when I was a lot younger in The Muppet Movie but there's a difference between listening to song sung by a green thing with nasalish voice and listening to the same song sung by a beautiful sweet little girlish voice. And I'm a fan of Lea Salonga. She's sooo beautiful. The credit also goes to Paul Williams and Kenny Ascher for writing the song.

A Shocking Thing

2010-05-06T11:40:00.004+13:00

Last year, we bought D.A Carson's Album, Shout With Delight, of Hymns he's written. I liked it, I really liked it. I played it so much that my sister hates the CD now. I've got many favourites songs from it too. I like The Kingdom of Our God. In This Rebel World is a favourite with me. I get breathless in the fourth verse where it describes the taking of the scroll from the Father's hand and death passing away. My family loves to sing To the Praise of His Glorious Grace in our family prayers.

But the song that moved me the most was A Shocking Thing. I didn't like it initially because it had a minorish tune and I'm more up to happy music. But the more I listened, the more I saw how true it is. The Hymn is about what Jesus has done for us and how we dishonour him in the conmmunioun, inspite of it.

A Shocking Thing (Communioun Hymn)

A shocking thing, this, that we should forget

The Savior who gave up his life –

To turn from the cross, indifferent, and let

Our minds veer toward self-love and strife.

The table, this rite, is habit – and yet

Christ’s words pierce our shame like a knife:
While breaking the bread, the Lord Jesus said,

“Do this in remembrance of me.”

Enamored with power, surrounded with praise,

We set out our ecclesial plans.

Efficiency hums, and we spend our days

Defending, promoting our stands.

Techniques multiply, our structures amaze –

The gospel slips out of our hands.
While breaking the bread, the Lord Jesus said,

“Do this in remembrance of me."

"O remember, remember the cross.

From my side issued water and blood,

This was no accident,

I bore the wrath of my God.”

“Remember my bed, the dank cattle shed,

Though glory was all my domain.

Remember the years of service and tears

That climaxed in lashings of pain.

By God’s own decree, your guilt fell on me,

And all of my loss is your gain.”
While breaking the bread, the Lord Jesus said,

“Do this in remembrance of me.”

“Remember my tears, Gethsemene’s fears;

Recall that my followers fled,

That I was betrayed, disowned and arraigned –

The Prince of Life crucified, dead.

Remember your shame, your sin and your blame;

Remember the blood that I shed.”
While lifting the cup, the Savior spoke up,

“Do this in remembrance of me.”

So now when we eat this feast simply spread

I blush I forget to recall.

For this quiet rite means once more I have fed

On bread that gave life once for all;

Memorial feast—just wine, broken bread—

And time to reflect on Christ’s call:
While breaking the bread, the Lord Jesus said,

“Do this in remembrance of me.”

*******

List of Austen men in the order of who I'd most likely marry

2010-03-23T05:51:00.003+13:00

...if they exist today and happen to be Reformed Baptists.

1. Mr. George Knightley from Emma.

I love you, Mr. Knightley, and I don't care how old you are. You are so perfect. There is nothing wrong with you. Unfortunately people like you do not exist except in novels and mangas. Oh, the sorrow.

2. Edmund Bertram from Mansfield Park.

You're a nice boy, Mr. Bertram. You've got strong morals and stick to them. You've got a good and loving heart. I think my Mum would be rather fond of you. Though I must say, in regards to Mary Crawford, what were you thinking?!!!!! Fortunately, there are some nice boys in the world who are like you.

I just need to find them.

3. Captain Fredrick Wentworth from Persuasion.

I like you, Captain Wentworth. Me thinks we'd get along capitally well. Your constancy is admirable. You like the plain girls as much as or more than the pretty ones which tells me that we'll suit. Your only weakness is that you can't say no to your lady which is fine with me. Muhahahaaa! And who cares if Sir Elliot and Lady Russell don't approve of you! My Papa and Mamma will.

4. Henry Tilney

You're a nice guy, Mr. Tilney. You're fun and clever and a positive example of Miss Austen's clergymen along with Edmund Bertram. I like that you try to do the right thing by everyone. My Papa would prefer you most next to Mr. Knightley. Only I fear that I would be very much afraid of you.

5. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy

I actually do like you, Sir, so don't be so offended that you're fifth in the list. It's just that my Mum and Papa wouldn't in the least approve of you. You're too big headed.

6. Edward Ferrars

Nice boy but poor judgement. Or maybe I haven't read Sense and Sensibility properly.

7. Colonel Brandon

You're too old for me, I'm afraid (Mr. Knightley is the exception). But I have tremendous respect for you. I'm sure we'd be best friends.

My sister's head

2010-01-06T10:46:00.012+13:00

I've always been the clumsy child within our close extended family. I stub me toes all the time. I get my foot caught in my own pyjamas when I'm wearing them. I still trip over cracks on the pavement. It's embarrassing too. Especially when it happens in public. I still remember my little tumble in front of school a couple of years ago. The Girl Who Took Care Of Me In Highschool and Brainiac Boy had to pick me up and set me on my feet. And I got a run in my new tights. When I was little my family had a nickname for me, 'pulthadiki' which translates in English as 'she who stumbles over grass'. Yes, there have been incidents when foot comes into contact with an unfortunate blade of grass and down down...humpty dumpty had a great fall.

Of course, these should have resulted in some horrific accidents but it didn't. I've never had a broken bone or had to get stitches. While a few falls result in minor scrapes, most of these tumble-stumbles result in my guardian angels helping me regain balance before I make contact with the ground. So without the grace of God, I would have been the Late Prisy a long long time ago.

But it's different for my sister, The Old Hag. She's usually poised and very unclumsy but she's been rushed to the ER more than once for cracking her head.

The first time was in Madurai, when she was three. I would have been around six at the time and Old Yeller would have been four. We were playing in the bedroom. It was a really stupid game consisting of me and Old Yeller holding opposite ends of a bedsheet and The Old Hag holding the middle and all of us running around in a circle around the room. Then all of us tumbled and fell. My brother and I were up again, laughing, but Old Hag was wailing. We tried to colm her down until we saw droplets of red on the ground. Mummeeeeeee!!!!!!

Mum rushed her to the hospital and The Old Hag came back with some stitches on her forehead.

The next accident was around a year later. Now there were these nice people who lived in a big house across the street. We were acquainted with them because their dogs were related to my uncle's dogs by marriage. There was also a pretty little three year old girl living there who became fast friends with the Old Hag. One day her Mum invited us to come over. Old Yeller and I immensely enjoyed the visit especially because they had cable TV. The Old Hag sat in the living room and played with The Pretty Little Girl Across The Street. I don't know what my sister did but somehow The Pretty Little Girl Across The Street got angry with her. She picked up a hard toy and hit my sister on the head. It must have hurt because The Old Hag had this really priceless expression on her face. A mildly surprised, moderately furious and extremely disgusted expression.

But before I could laugh, The Pretty Little Girl's older brother suddenly yelled out, "Ma, she's bleeding."

The Old Hag heard that one mention of blood and spontaneously burst into tears. Mum was called to take The Old Hag to the ER for more stitches and The Pretty Little Girl Across The Street came by later that evening with her Mummy to say sorry.

The third notable incident happened when The Old Hag was nearly ten and we were living in a flat. I remember that it was around December and that it was a Saturday evening. We had just finished Saturday Class which was a small weekly Bible lesson Mum had every Saturday for us, our friends and some children from the slums. The lesson had been on Creation and now that everything was finished, I was sitting alone in the living room drawing a picture of the Garden of Eden. The house was very quiet; Mum had stepped out to have a chat with our neighbours who lived on the same floor of our apartment building. Papa wasn't home from work. Our cook must have gone home by then. Old Yeller and The Old Hag were in the kids' bedroom with our eight year old neighbour, The Kid Next Door (this child deserves a whole post on him which I shall write one day).

I was enjoying my solitude when suddenly Old Yeller rushed The Old Hag out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. The Kid Next Door followed looking frightened. I can hardly remember this part except there was blood, panic and me and The Kid Next Door rushing to the neighbours' for both our mothers.

So this was what happened. The Three Amigos, my brother, sister and their pal were playing Dark Room in our bedroom. Dark Room is a lot like 'Kikeri' in What Katy Did. It's just Hide-And-Seek in the dark. And, oh, so much fun. It was Old Yeller's turn to be the 'It' or the seeker or whatever you call it. My genius sister found an ingenious place to hide. She climbed and sat on top of our tall bookshelf.....and got found out. Now it was her turn to be 'It' and she therefore she needed to get down from her hiding place. But Madam, being to lazy, decided to JUMP down rather than climb down. She figured that with enough care she would fall safely on the bed in the middle of the room. But she forgot to take into account our ceiling fan....which was running...on high speed!

So she jumped and----BANG! Her head came into contact with the blades from the fan.

So Mum took her to the ER and she got some new stitches. The Kid Next Door's eldest sister made special iced coffee with ice cream, specially for her. She even sang in the Church Choir the week after, wearing a huge bandage around her head which made her injury look more serious than it was.

The Old Hag was really lucky. Her injury wasn't serious at all. It was only a small cut to the side of her head. She could have easily lost an eye, a ear or suffered a brain injury.

Like the Psalmist said,

For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways.
On their hands they will bear you up,
lest you strike your foot against a stone.
(Psalm 91: 11,12)

The fan was irreparable and had to get replaced, though.

And needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), like 'Kikeri' in What Katy Did, Dark Room was banned in our house (and the entire apartment building).

Identity Crisis

2009-11-03T13:02:00.002+13:00

By this time next year, I would have applied for New Zealand Citizenship. You have to be a New Zealand resident for five years to apply. I love my birth country, India but being Kiwi has its own advantages.

So what will I become then?

A Kiwi (New Zealander) from India?

Or an Indian from New Zealand (Kiwi Land)?

If someone asks me where I'm from, do I say India or New Zealand?

Can someone figure it out and tell me?

A First...

2009-10-20T09:52:00.005+13:00

Last Thursday, I was asked out on a date for the first time in my life. Sort of.

Here's how it happened:

Now, for the last couple of months, I've been regularly going to meetings with the Christian group on Campus. It's called Student Life. Student Life has different cell groups called Action Groups where we study the Bible together. Of course, there are a lot theological differences but the girls I've seen, especially the leader of my Action Group, seem to have a true zeal for God. I go to Action group with My Gangsta Friend Who Voted Labour.

So last Thursday we met in the hall of the MacLaurin Chapel. We were six of us, all girls, and we were studying Ephesians 5 and discussing Christ's relationship with His Church. Suddenly I felt my cellphone vibrating. I checked it and found that I had got a message from an unknown number. The text told me that I had been chosen for something and that I should look for an envelope under the nearest table.

Once I told my group about the text, they all checked their phones. Surprise, surprise. They had all got the same text. So we all got down on our hands and knees and found a cute envelope with a picture of Noah's animals posing for a photograph. Inside the envelope we found a long letter telling us to go to the nearest place of worship. We were supposed to meet someone there who would tell us what to do. The code was: ALL BLACKS RULE. (In case you don't know, 'All Blacks' is the name of New Zealand's favourite Rugby team.)

So we went to the chapel which was just a wall away. We saw a boy wearing his jumper on his head, near the altar. When we approached him, he asked us, "What's the code?"

"All Blacks Rule!" we said.

"That's correct, now turn around slowly and go back to where you came from."

We obeyed. I wondered if he was talking about going back to the hall or literally where we came from, which is India for me. As we reached the back of the Chapel, five boys lined up in front of us. One of them had a guitar and they all began to sing a song to the tune of Aladdin's A Whole New World though the words were creatively different.

They sang that they would show us the shining shimmering world, taking us wonder by wonder on a magic car ride. It took me a moment to realise that they were asking us to be their dates at the Student Life Ball. The song was hilarious. They promised to be gentlemen and treat us with civility. After they finished they gave us each a long stemmed pink rose. I'd never seen these guys before and they'd never seen me, but I was truly madly and deeply flattered.

Sadly, I wasn't (and am still not planning on) going to the ball (though my parents had given me permission to) so I couldn't (and still can't) be anyone's date (which my parents will never permit).

Back at home, Mum enjoyed the story, though Papa looked shaken to the soul. I've put the rose in a pretty green bottle filled with water. And it's still there, sitting on the fireplace.

One Busy Week

2009-09-08T02:12:00.005+13:00

Last week is amazingly busy.

For starters, Sunday the 30th of August was my 20th Birthday. Mamma decorated a cake especially for me. My birthday was especially nice because it was a church day. Everyone was wonderfully good that day. During fellowship Tea (every last Sunday evening), they, lead by Mr.M, sang 'Happy Birthday' to me. At first I was embarrassed, but there was that nice warm feeling inside. I really felt loved. Karate Lamb Chops made me this gorgeous carrot cake with Caramel sauce. Sharpay and Nita got me really nice presents. But I would have loved them even if they didn't. Really, Sovereign Grace is the best church in the world, with good sound theology and loving people.

On Tuesday the 1st of September, I went on a road trip with some of my school friends. The Girl Who Took Care Of Me In Highschool, The Asian Girl Who Sits With Me On The Bus and My Gangsta Friend Who Voted Labour and I drove all the way to Dargaville (which isn't that far away from Auckland). During the long drive we listened to Taylor Swift, John Mayer, Westlife, the Backstreet Boys and whole lot of artists. We checked into a motel, saw three lakes, hugged trees at a Kauri forest, shopped at Woolworths, cooked our own dinner and played Cranium. We checked out the following day, visited a local beach and headed home again. It wasn't a long getaway but it was still lovely. And in the midst of all the fun and jokes, we still took time to talk seriously about our faiths, beliefs and views.

On Thursday, I had my friends over to my house. In addition to the three girls mentioned above, I also had Dalabi Wasabi and Wendy Hime over. Others were invited but couldn't make it. Still we had a good time. We played Singstar and Buzz, and watched a little bit of Monk. We ate Tandoori Pizza and made Caramel pudding.

I had a free day on Friday but Saturday was cleaning day and Sundays are always busy. So that was last week. Thank God for all His blessings, little as I deserve them.

Jonathan

2009-08-17T10:25:00.010+13:00

. . . there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother (Pro 18:24)

Last Sunday at church, Warrick Uncle Warrick gave us the sermon for the evening service. It was about Jonathan, the friend of David. After service, I went to him and told him that Jonathan is one of my favourite people from the Bible.

"How long has this affair been going on?" he asked, feigning concern.

Jonathan is one of my favourite people from the bible. There is something almost romantic about him. A brave young man. A faithful prince. A loving friend. A tragic hero. Jonathan is one of the Hamlets of the Bible.

Warrick Uncle Warrick said in the sermon that Jonathan might have been someone really successful had he been born in another time. Yet God's plans for Jonathan have been different than what we, from a human perspective, think he deserves.

The first we hear of Jonathan is when he is fighting with Israel in the battle against the Philistines in 1 Samuel 13. Jonathan defeated a garrison of Philistine soldiers and this encouraged many more Israelites to join the army. In chapter 14, we see Jonathan operated an ambush on another philistine garrison, with no one but his armour bearer. The two of them single-handedly, defeated the garrison, causing panic in the opposite camp and resulting in the Philistines killing each other in the confusion. For a long time, I thought that Jonathan was rather foolish and fool-hardy for pulling a stunt like that.

But Warrick Uncle Warrick made me look closer at the chapter.

1 Samuel 14:6 says, "Jonathan said to the young man who carried his armor, “Come, let us go over to the garrison of these uncircumcised. It may be that the Lord will work for us, for nothing can hinder the Lord from saving by many or by few."

Jonathan had God's will in mind the whole time. Jonathan acted a lot like David did in 1 Samuel 17. David was upset that the chosen people of God, the Israelites, were too afraid to face the uncircumcised Goliath, who was insulting the living God. Much like David, Jonathan faced the enemy, wholly trusting in God's will, while the rest of the army cowered in fear.

But what Jonathan is mostly known for is his friendship with David. Jonathan was a great prince, loved and revered by his father's subjects (1 Sam 14:45), while David was an ordinary shepherd boy. David was bullied and belittled by his brothers, and his upbringing was definitely inferior to Jonathan's. Yet, despite their different backgrounds, the two formed a thick friendship. We see that Jonathan 'loved David as his own soul'. They made a covenant together. Warrick Uncle Warrick pointed out that in it was practice to exchange tokens to symbolise ones part in the covenant. Jonathan gave David his robe and armour but David gave nothing back to Jonathan.

Jonathan also saved David's life a few times by interceding for him with Saul. Saul had become increasingly insecure about his kingdom. He rightly suspected that his throne would eventually go to David. Therefore he continually tried to kill David. The first time, Jonathan hid David and persuaded his father to spare David's life. In chapter 20, as soon as Jonathan is sure that Saul intended to kill David, he warned his friend to flee. David spent a long time in exile, hiding away from Saul. He went through one of the most difficult times in his life. But in chapter 23, Jonathan went to meet David to encourage him. They made a covenant and parted. They probably never saw each other again.

The love between Jonathan and David is obvious. But today people have corrupted the significance of that love. I was shocked when I first learned that David and Jonathan's relationship is being misinterpreted as a sexual one. No, Jonathan's love is not eros (erotic love) but a clear and beautiful example of agape, a love than gives and takes nothing in return. Jonathan gave his all to David. He protected him and encouraged him. He had also been self-denying. Jonathan was a born leader and had been groomed to be the future king. But he was later confronted with the realisation that it was his best friend who was God's anointed not him. Did he become resentful? No. He swore a vow of friendship with David because he recognized God's hand in everything. In chapter 23, he reassured David of God's protection. Jonathan continued to care for David even though the friendship put great strains on his relationship with his father and endangered his own life. In chapter 20, Saul in his anger attempted to kill his own son by throwing a spear at him, because of his loyalty to David.

John 15:13 says, "Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends." Jonathan may not have died for David but there's no doubt that if he had to, he would have. He sacrificed as much as he could for him. Jonathan exhibited true Christ-likeness. Jonathan sacrificed a great deal for David like Jesus did for us. The covenant in chapter 18, reminded me of Jesus. Jonathan gave David a token to symbolise his part in the covenant but there is no indication that David gave Jonathan anything. Likewise, it's Jesus who did the giving, there is nothing we can give him. But as great as Jonathan may be, it is important that we recognize that he is nothing compared to Jesus.

Jesus had so much more to give and so much more to lose than Jonathan, yet he died for us. There is a finite gap between a prince and a shepherd boy. But the gap between a sinner and the great Creator God is infinite. Jonathan interceded before a wicked king for an innocent shepherd boy. But Jesus interceded before a holy wonderful and powerful God for the guilty sinner who really does deserve death.

Those who read their Bible stories would know what happened to Jonathan. He died along with his father in battle against the Philistines. But how proud he must be, now in heaven, to know that God used him to fulfill His purpose for David and establish His will, to know that God still uses his (Jonathan's) life to teach people about His son's love and sacrifice.

That is Jonathan's legacy: to be a biblical figure whose life looks forward to Jesus, who was born in the line of David, Jonathan's best friend.

And there are billions of people in this world who name their sons after Jonathan, with or without understanding the significance.

And I know at least one girl who sighs and says wistfully to herself, "If only I knew someone like Jonathan. I would sooo marry him."

Nita's Birthday

2009-08-13T12:46:00.010+13:00

August is a lovely month. I hadn't realised it before. The sun has come out again, the daffodils are out and the magnolias are blooming pinks, whites and purples. And August has what every other month has.....Birthdays.

Wednesday was Nita's birthday. She turned sixteen. I haven't known Nita very long. Her family started coming for evening services at our church earlier this year but we've all become friends. It's strange how quickly everyone got along, because the kids in my church, (Karate Lamb Chops, Ryan, Sharpay, my siblings and myself) are a bit shy. I didn't speak to Karate Lamb Chops for around six months after we started going to this church. It took about a year for us to get properly acquainted with Sharpay. Ryan ignored us for two years and a half.

But for some reason we all got along quite quickly with Nita and her family. Nita has three brothers and a little sister.

Joshua is the oldest. He's a very quiet chap, about my age.

Judah is next in line and one of the most interesting people I've met. At age 16, he sent an email to the then Education Minister about a bill he was concerned about. The minister sent back a rather patronising and slightly discriminatory reply back to him. Judah found all the spelling mistakes in the email he had got back, and handed it over to the press. I guess it's not particularly cool to gain a reputation as someone who can't spell when you're the Education Minister. Judah is into politics and he's currently campaigning for the Vote No side of the Anti-smacking Bill and fighting for the rights of parents in NZ

Next in age to Nita is Bartholomew, a little thirteen year old boy with a quirky sense of humour. Bart is exactly the type of kid I get along with best.

And then comes little Anna, the five year old baby of the family. Anna loves the nursery rhyme, Wee Willie Winkie. She goes to folk dancing classes, reads Peter And Jane Books and has two dolls who she affectionately refers to as her 'babies'.

(*...I would like to remind everyone that all of these names are aliases and I will strive my best to keep the real names hidden in order to protect my acquaintances from ID theft. Except in Judah's case, I might divulge his true name later, in case he becomes famous. It can boost my blog rating...*)

But the hero of this post is Nita. I remember when I first spoke to her. It was the girls' turn to prepare the afternoon tea after Church. Nita was sitting by herself. She was probably very comfortable without us but all I could think of was the awkward feeling you get when you're sitting by yourself with an unfamiliar group and no one is trying to make friends with you.

But we were different with Nita. Karate Lamb Chops went up to her and said, "Excuse me, would you like to help us do the dishes?" Which not probably something you'd want to say to someone you're trying to make friends with. But Nita helped us with the work and observed everything with a bemused expression on her face.

Nita likes shopping, movies and Kiera Knightly. She has a sarcastic sense of humour and it's hard to tell when she's serious and when she's joking. She also has some strange tastes i.e, she thinks the Keira Knightley Pride and Prejudice movie is better than the Jennifer Ehle Pride and Prejudice mini-series (gasp!).

So it was her birthday on Wednesday. We teased her last Sunday by threatening to crash her house at night to wish her a happy birthday. Nita didn't take it seriously because she thought we were joking.

So come Wednesday, Karate Lamb Chops came to pick up The Old Hag and myself. Sharpay couldn't come because :
1) She was sick (again).
2) She had to baby sit.

So the three of us went to Botany Mall where we bought chocolate for Nita, party poppers, bubble blowers and those party blow-thingees. We got lost looking for Nita's house and wandered around for almost an hour before we finally reached our desitination.

Mrs. Nita's Mum opened the door. She grinned at us and called Nita down from her room. Nita spied us from the top of the stairs.
"Oh no...." was the welcoming cry from her.

In a few minutes Judah, Bartholomew, and Anna had joined us. Mr. Nita's dad was away and I think Joshua was asleep. We ate the cake Karate Lamb Chops had baked for Nita and Mrs. Nita's Mum gave us juice. Nita has a lovely home which seemed to scream 'F-A-M-I-L-Y'. And the family members were really good hosts. Bartholomew showed us a science project he had done. Anna and Judah entertained us with some steps from her folk dance. Nita and her mother showed us baby photos and talked us. We had a great time. I remembered to tell Nita that Sharpay wished her a very happy birthday. Old Hag and I weren't sure what Nita would like so we brought a small Indian conatainer handcarved from marble as a present. Just to add some culture to the environment.

Mrs. Nita's Mum gave us more helpful directions to get back home and we left after Judah took a picture to commemorate the event. We went home for a late dinner (Old Hag and I) and bed (Katate Lamb Chops, Old Hag and I).

This post is especially for Sharpay to give her an account of what happened. Wish you were there, Sharpay. Get well soon.

Thoughts about yesterday

2009-06-27T05:04:00.005+13:00

The King of Pop is dead. I learnt this first thing yesterday when I was just googling to see if Kate and Jon are really splitting up. I felt more than a twinge of remorse (about the King, I mean). My childhood summers often meant Heal The World, I'm Bad, Black Or White and Billie Jean. Only a couple of days ago, I had been thinking how beautiful Michael Jackson looked in his Don't Stop ('til You Get Enough) video. The rest of the morning passed with MJ videos on C4 (NZ music channel), News Updates on his death and the Old Yeller trying to educate Thatha (Grandad) on who Michael Jackson was.

That evening Karate Lamb Chops came over to pick me and Old Yeller up to go to the Outreach event at the Howick Baptist Church where their youth group was having an Accoustic Cafe. I latched onto Karate Lamb Chops and Sharpay for the whole time. Ryan came by later with an exciting story of how two criminals had taken refuge in his workplace (Dick Smith at Sylvia Park, if you're interested) and a troop of policemen had come in to apprehend them.

Anyhow, we had a bit of entertainement with a Christian Band called Epidemic. Two of the members were actually friends of our friends but my brother and I were too shy to introduce ourselves. There was also a rapper called Theophilus.

I was pretty sceptical about the rapper. I hate normal rap and Christian rap almost seemed blasphemous. But I changed my mind soon afterwards. The guy had a clear message: What will happen to you when you die? Have your sins been died for on the cross? Will you be in heaven if you died today?

I wouldn't advocate rap for formal worship but I felt that he got the attention of every non-believer there.

Theophilus then held out his gloved right hand and said, "I'm wearing a black glove. As a tribute to Michael Jackson. I admire him as a musician. I love some of his music. But as far as I can see it doesn't seem like he had prepared himself for death. For what is a man profited, if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?" (Matthew 16:26)

He was right. I had been thinking the same thing the whole day. There are all kinds of great people in the world. We have our Michael Jacksons, Elvis Presleys, Farrah Fawcetts and Marilyn Monroes who have inspired and entertained us. We even have our Mahatma Gandhis and our Mother Theresas who had given their life to service for people. But nothing these people can do or have done, can get them to heaven, on their own merit.

You can be well-loved and revered on earth and it won't matter a jot when you're dead. No matter what you do, you're a sinner and in enmity with God. The Holy God who cannot tolerate sin should destroy you. But no, He sent His son to die for His children. You cannot earn your way to heaven, nothing you do will ever matter. Unless God has redeemed you through His grace.

But it is wonderful to think that an average person like me who won't be missed outside my tiny circle of family and friends, who won't even be remembered after a decade, who won't be mentioned in a single history book, can enter God's Kingdom. Not by anything I did but by everything He did.

Sorry if I'm rambling a bit. I'm just writing my thoughts as they flow.

The 'Cold' Season

2009-06-25T20:17:00.003+13:00

It seems like a universal Flu season. The swine flu has been announced as a pandemic. I heard on the radio some weeks ago that they expect that over half the population of NZ will be infected with the virus. Besides, with the cold weather here, it seems inevitable that you get sick from one thing or another.

So I’m sick! Not the Swine Flu, thankfully. Just a bad cold.

It happened yesterday while I was walking the four-kilometre distance from home to work. I wasn’t wearing a hat, which must have triggered the entire episode. It had been slightly warm, you see, and I had my favourite bulky jacket (the one that Mamma hates, because it make me look dumpy) and my pretty brown-leather gloves. By the time I got to the school (where I work), I was having the sniffles. It’s general knowledge that taking care of fourteen children, who’ve had too much sugar in their juice during Afternoon Tea, doesn’t really help the immune system. And so at 6.01 pm, I found myself in Papa’s car, after work, with a really bad sore throat.

The one thing that was going on in my mind was that if I became too sick, I can’t go with Karate Lamb Chops, Ryan and Sharpay on our outing on Friday. We had planned last Sunday to visit this youth group, which belongs to an Armenian church with a Reformed youth pastor. I usually don’t see the three of them outside of Church so it's a bit of treat, which I did not want to miss.

So as soon as I got home, I drank a mug of hot water. I had a tablespoon of honey, which soothed my throat…temporarily. Then for dinner, I had a mug of hot creamy chicken soup. While we were listening to a sermon John Piper for family prayer, I sipped another mug of hot water. While doing the dishes I sucked on an orange flavoured lozenge. Before going to bed, I drank a mug of Lemsip (a drink which is supposed to be good for colds and sore throats, and, let me tell you, they exaggerate its effects in the TV ads) and gargled with hot and salty water. In my bedroom, my oil heater was on high and I had four layers (a sheet, a blanket and two summer duvets) to cover me and a hot water bottle to hug.

So you can imagine I was pretty gutted when I woke up this morning with a sore throat….and a blocked nose!!!

By now I have added a headache to my list of grievance and I fear that I might be getting a fever.

So I’m pretty much trying to figure out whether it would be morally wrong to go to a youth group with a possibly infectious cold.

I wonder what I’ll decide….

Meringue Cookies

2009-06-20T00:16:00.005+13:00

I’m not much of a cook but I like finding recipes and trying them out. Once I start them, I find that they’re a lot more complicated than I can manage and I usually need some extra help to finish. I remember certain examples:

1. The time I made the Fruit Flan Tart: Quite a success really but required my dad and mum’s help to finish.
2. The time I made the bête noire. I used really dark chocolate so it didn’t come sweet enough, though it went great with Vanilla ice cream. And yeah, my friends, who had come over for a lunch party, had to help me make it, in the end.
3. The time I made carrot Halwa, an Indian dessert. After I finished making it, I found that my delicious sweet Halwa tasted like ordinary carrot in milk…ugh. Mum had to rescue it by adding condensed milk. Everyone liked it in the end.

So a couple of weeks ago, I was looking at recipes in foodinaminute.com when I discovered a recipe for Queen’s Rice Pudding. I tried it over the weekend and though it didn’t come out right, it tasted delicious. The interesting part of the recipe was that it required a meringue topping. The meringue came out spongy but was nice and got me thinking of Macaroons.

Macaroons in India aren’t the same as the Macaroons around the world. Indian Macaroons are just light and ordinary meringues cookies with a rich cashew nut flavour. So then I looked up some meringue cookie recipes and made some. They turned out really well.

Things you need:

3 Egg whites.

¾ tbsp of lemon juice

¾ cup of caster sugar

Some cashew nuts

1 heaped tbsp Grated coconut

Shaved almonds

Method

Pre-heat the oven to around 100 degrees C (200 degrees F to others).

Beat egg whites and lemon juice together until the egg can stand by itself. Add sugar slowly and keep beating until the mixture turns meringue like. Beat in the cashew nut bits and then the grated coconuts until they’re well mixed up.

Line an oven tray with baking paper. Scoop up meringue mixture in a spoon and make mounds in the oven tray in a row. Leave it in the oven for one hour forty-five minutes to two hours. After you’re done leave the meringues to cool for about twenty minutes. Consume immediately or store in an airtight container because I find that leaving them out too long makes them soft and spongy instead of crisp and crunchy. Don’t leave the meringues in the fridge (I don’t know why, but another recipe said that. And I’d rather not risk it).

Enjoy. I would include a picture but the photos we took didn't turn out that well.

Book Review #1: The Blue Castle

2009-03-23T15:27:00.006+13:00

Most people have read the books of Lucy Maud Montgomery like Anne of the Green Gables and Emily of New Moon. But The Blue Castle is one her lesser known books. Unlike the Anne and Emily books this one was directed towards an adult audience. It's light, funny and ideal for lazy rainy days when you don't want to think too much.

The story is about Valancy Stirling who lives a deary life with a bossy mother, morbid aunt and is always surrounded by her relatives, the Stirling clan who enjoy picking on her. Valancy is the joke of the family and is constantly being looked down on. Being delicate and not particularly attractive, Valancy doesn't have much chance of catching a good husband which embitters her mother who had wanted only sons or pretty girls. Valancy's husbandless-ness earns her the ridicule of the rest of the Stirlings. She is always being compared to her beautiful cousin Olive who has had a string of beaus. She lives in fear, fear of her mother, fear of offending her proud and hypocritical family, fear of poverty, fear that Uncle Benjamin will cut her off from his will. Miserable, Valancy finds comfort in two things, reading John Foster books and living 'spiritually' in her imaginary home in spain, the Blue Castle.

The story opens with Valancy waking up on her twenty ninth birthday and realising that she's entering into matronhood without having ever been sought by any man. She gets up expecting her dreary life to continue as always but fate has other plans. A few days later she gets a letter from a doctor she had been secretly consulting without her family's knowledge. The boom is lowered! Valancy suffers from a fatal heart disease and has only some months to live. Initially resentful that her life has been taken away before she has lived it, she realises that now she isn't afraid of anything because she won't be alive to face the consequences. She can live as she pleases.

The Stirling Clan watch with disbelief as Valancy commits the unpardonable sins of 1) moving in as housekeeper with the family of the alcoholic Roaring Abel, 2) nursing the dying Cissy Gay, and (gasp!) 3) attending the Free Methodist church instead of the Anglican church. Valancy falls in love with the mysterious, gentle, wandering Barney Snaith the hero of the town's 'cashier-counterfeiter-infidel-murderer-in-hiding' legends. He agrees to marry her when he hears about her terminal illness. Valancy is so happy that she doesn't mind that her family has cut her out completely.

And she lives happily ever after.....right?

And what is Barney's secret that he hides so effectively?

I love this book. It's light, comedic, romance story with a touch of mystery. I want write about the ending too but I don't want to destroy the story for anyone. To be honest I read the plot summary in Wikipedia before I read the book. I wish I can buy a couple of copies for both Sharpay and Ing; I know they'll love it. I can't believe Hollywood hasn't made a bad, loosely abridged movie, based on this yet.

Five Things You Have To Know About Me!

2009-02-27T11:04:00.003+13:00

1. I'm a Christian.

That means that I believe that Jesus is the son of God and the only way to salvation.

2. I'm Reformed Baptist.

In a way, that means two things: I believe that only someone who is capable of making a profession of faith in Jesus can be baptised into the Church. I also believe, we as people, are dead in our sins, separated from God and deserve to be destroyed by God. But God in His mercy chose me to be saved. He sent Jesus to die in the place of His elect. I did nothing to inherit His grace. I couldn't even resist it. I mean to try and live so that He would be honoured.

3. I'm Pro-life and Anti-Abortion.

I consider unborn babies as human beings (well, they're not exactly baby chimps, are they?) No matter what stage of development they're in, if they're allowed to be born, they become little girls in pink playing with barbies or little boys riding their bikes down the sidewalk. I don't think it's fair to end another person's life, especially without consulting them. Abortion is murder. Even if you consider the 'foetus' as a 'mistake', you should be a man (or woman) and face up to your stupidity. Remember that you're still alive and no one chose to terminate your life when you were concieved. I'm saying this, even though, some of the people who I care most about and who care most about me, are pro-abortionist. That should give a clue on how important this issue is to me. It's the reason why I didn't vote for Obama (other than the fact that I've never been to the US).

4. I'm also obsessed with Japan.

It started one day when I watching a series in Discovery Kids called 'My House' in the late 90's or early 2000's. That particular day they featured a house from Japan. I thought it was really cool. The house was small and was made of wood. It even had a wooden bathtub. There was a cute garden.

Then I became exposed to Japanese anime and Manga.

Finally I got the chance to go to Japan, thanks to missionary friends of my mother. I felt strangely like I belonged there. I was sorry to leave and I still long to go back again. I also became aware of the terrible state of the Church in Japan. The percentage of Christians in Japan is less than 1%. They are very few missionaries. It would be wonderful if you can pray for the Church there. If God wants me to go and help the Church mission there, I would go in a flash, but I haven't felt any such calling yet.

5. I'm obsessed with homeschooling.

It's only when I met Karate Lamb Chops, Ham Bacon, Ryan and Sharpay that I realised what homeschool was. I didn't love school very much (except for my friends). I felt intimadated by the teachers and I easily got stressed in the school environment. In India, I went to private schools but I always felt like the odd one out. In New Zealand, the trouble was that most of my friends weren't in my classes and hardly saw them except for breaks. So I was quick to envy these homeschoolers. And they're pretty cool. Ham Bacon is Karate Blackbelt, Ryan does dirt biking, and if you've met Karate Lamb Chops and Sharpay, you will never say that homeschoolers lack social skills. And they're all intelligent individuals. So if I ever marry, have kids and live in NZ, chances are that in the next ten years, you'll see me in an eight seater taking my kids to the zoo, amusement park or museum on a Wednesday when most children are cooped up in a classroom.

Skycity Starlight Symphony

2009-02-22T22:33:00.009+13:00

On Saturday, I went to the Skycity Starlight Symphony with Karate Lamb Chops and her big brother Ham Bacon. Originally, we were all planning to go, my family with Karate Lamp Chops and Ham Bacon's family. But things happened. The Old Hag was in a bad mood and didn't want to go; my parents were too tired; Old Yeller had some Unitec work to do; Mrs. Karate-Lamb-Chops-and-Ham-Bacon's-mum thought that it might rain due to the bleak weather forecast; Mr. Karate-Lamb-Chops-and-Ham-Bacon's-dad was told by his children that they didn't want him to come with them.

So Papa dropped me off at Karate Lamp Chops and Ham Bacon's place. After they got ready we walked to Queen's Road to catch the bus. While waiting for the bus to Britomart, Karate Lamp Chops went to nearby chinese store and bought a pink inflatable baseball bat thingee with Strawberry Shortcake on it and plenty of glow sticks. The bus came, we got on, got off at New Market, then walked a little bit until we reached the place where the Starlight Symphony was being held. It was huge ground with with a stage set up for the performers. We found a good spot on the grass near the speakers. We had a great time. It didn't rain after all.

There was a lot of great entertainment. A huge choir, a trombone quartet, violinists, singer etc, etc. There was a guy who sang Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsody' solo (with the audience singing along) and live. We had a snippet from the Australian Production of 'My Fair Lady' with the actress playing Eliza Doolittle singing 'I could have danced all night'. Will Martin and Rebecca Wright's rendition of 'Only he' convinced me to use my hard earned money to see Anthony Lloyd Webber's 'Starlight Express' this coming winter.

One thing I loved by Annual Crowd Waltz where the audience was invited to join in dancing to the Blue Danube. Many couples, mostly old people, and some little children got up to dance. It was a pleasure to note that old people really knew how to waltz!

As it got darker, we pulled out the glow sticks, made necklaces, crowns and bracelets with them and decked ourselves until we looked like walking talking Christmas Trees. Ham Bacon even wore a couple in his shoes. There was even a set of glow sticks which could be shaped into glasses. My friends generously let me wear those. I was the envy of every kid around.

The cream was seeing New Zealand's own pop artist, Brooke Fraser. I'm not a big fan of her but I was struck by her down to earth and shy behaviour. She looked like she was still unused to her popularity and unspoiled by fame. And Karate Lamb Chops noted that she sounded much better live than in her videos.

We also had an awesome light show. The Lasers were so powerful that we could see them hit the clouds and get reflected back. And there was the spectacular fireworks along with cannons and the assisstance of the NZ Army.

Everything ended with the New Zealand National Anthemn. Everyone joined with strong spirits in including me. It was enough to make me feel really patriotic...until I remembered that I'm an Indian Citizen.

We took the bus home with Ham Bacon's friends, a young couple with a four year old daughter. It was past ten thirty when we caught the bus. It was an interesting ride back home as an extremely drunk man was sitting in the seat behind Karate Lamb Chops. He wasn't in the happy no-self-control stage of drunkeness, but the I-don't-feel-too-good stage of drunkenss. Which is why Karate Lamb Chops was terribly worried for her cream coloured artificial fleece lined jacket. We got off at Queen's Road where Karate Lamb Chops gave away her pink bat thingee and two glow sticks to a couple of girls sitting on the pavement. I headed to my friends' place but Papa's car appeared before I got there.

To sum it up, I had a good time. I'm planning to join the symphony choir next year.

I guess I'll finish off with a picture of my glow sticks.

The Glow sticks in light and then in the dark. You can see that the glasses have lost their glowiness.

Has anyone experienced this?

2009-02-19T13:15:00.003+13:00

I'm allergic to the kitchen!

I'm serious. Usually when I'm in the kitchen for more than two minutes, I start sneezing. This is rather inconvenient as I am required to spend quite a bit of time in the kitchen for 1. Getting Thatha's breakfast ready in the morning and 2. Doing the dishes in the evening.

You might think I'm making this up just to get out of doing my chores, but I'm not.

It started after we moved to this new house about two months ago. I started getting dust allergies in the old house when we were packing up and it continued even in the new house, especially in the kitchen. At first I figured that it was the lingering affects of the allergies from packing but it's been two months now. What is even weird is that Papa, the King Of Allergies, has no problem.

And you have to know that in my father's side of the family they sneeze really loudly. When my dad or his brothers or his sister sneeze it sounds like the roof has been blown off. When Aachi (grandma) sneezes it sounds like the sky has fallen. I'm not lying (but I am using mild hyperbole). Fortunately it's not so bad with me. When I sneeze I just have to check my face to make sure my nose and eyeballs are in place.

But I'm sneezing less lately, so I guess that whatever it is, that I'm allergic to, is wearing off.

An Extraordinary Friday

2009-02-17T09:53:00.005+13:00

Something interesting happened last Friday.

My friend, The Girl Who Took Care Of Me In Highschool, had invited me and some other girls to come over to her place for a small get-together. So on Friday, I made sure Thatha (Tamil for grandad) had his breakfast and then took the walk to the bustop. The Girl Who Took Care Of Me In Highschool lives in the suburbs of Bucklands Beach which is a small peninsula with two beaches and until about two months ago, I used to live there. It would take only an hour to gt there by foot but it would be much better to simply take a bus. Only the it takes a good twenty minute walk to get to the bus stop. It was a nice walk and the weather was a lot more pleasant than the hot stuffy sunny days we've been having lately.

Since the bus stops had recently changed, I had a bit of trouble finding the new stop but in the end I found myself in the right bus cruising through Bucklands Beach Road. We turned into Macleans Road where Macleans College (the highschool my brother and I went to, where my sister still goes) is found. Usually, I make nostalgic faces at the school buildings and then admire the seafront view (Yes, I went to a school with a seafront view. We even had sea gulls).

But something caught my attention. Up ahead was a road block with two police cars. The policemen signalled to the bus driver to proceed. As we moved closer, I saw that the policemen wore bullet proof vests and carried big guns. I was impressed as there has been a lot of controversy in New Zealand on whether police men should carry guns or not. There are some intelligent people in this country who think that it is cruel for police men to shoot at vicious criminals who wield guns and weapons at innocent people.

Anyway, the policemen, who carried a lot more than stun guns, let us through and five minutes later, I found myself at The Girl Who Took Care Of Me In Highschool's house. There were just three of us, the hostess, The Asian Girl Who Sits With Me On The Bus and me. We watched T.V for a while and then we decided to pick up My Gangsta Friend Who Voted Labour and head to Botany Mall. On our way, as we passed through Bucklands Beach Road, we saw about ten police cars blocking certains small roads and we wondered what was happening.

I found out later in the evening that an escaped convict, Bryce Hughes who had run away from prison in Waikato had been hiding in the Bucklands Beach area. My sister informed me that they had a Lockdown at school, that is, locking up all the students in the school buildings. My sister had been having P.E when she had her classmates were told to change out of their P.E gear and were made to sit in the gym while the teachers locked up the gym building.

They caught the guy late at night around ten. It isn't really much of a story. But when you live in a small country with the population of a single city in India, things like this make life a bit more interesting. Just something to make the days move faster.

Christian Book Review #1: Star of Light

2009-01-27T00:55:00.005+13:00

I'm a reader. I've always loved books, especially when I was young. My parents made sure that I had plenty of reading material including a great deal of christian literature. I think that Star of Light by Patricia M. St. John is a must read for children in Christian households. Sadly, I don't think this book is in print anymore. All I have is a tattered old copy which must have belonged to Mamma.

Star of Light is the story of the going ons in a Christian Mission in North Africa. Poverty stricken young Hamid lives with his mother, two sisters, hard stepfather and conniving stepmother in a little village. Hamid's life changes when his mother tell him a terrible secret : his baby sister, Kinza is actually blind. When the stepfather finds out, he plans to sell little Kinza to a cruel beggar for a good sum of money. Terrified for her little daughter's safety, Hamid's mother persuades him to run away with Kinza to a distant town and give the blind girl to a particular English nurse who would never turn anyone away because of her Saint.

After plenty of misadventures, eleven year old Hamid and three year old Kinza arrive at the town and he leaves his little sister at the doorstep of the nurse. The nurse, Rosemary, takes Kinza in, and after a fruitless search for Kinza's parents decides to keep her as her child. Hamid watches from a distance and starts to take an interest in the nurse's 'Saint', a man called Jesus.

There is also the story of Jenny, a young English girl who has come to North Africa for sunshine after a long illness and is quite excited to spend her holidays with her Aunty Rosemary. Jenny is spoilt, selfish and has always been the most important person to herself and her parents. But when things go horribly wrong due to her own selfish actions, Jenny who has had everything she wanted finds that she's missing a Light in her self centred little life.

Notes: I feel that this a good book to help young uns understand about sin and forgiveness.

Hamid is a special character. He lost his father and three younger siblings to death, he had to be separated from his beloved mother and sister, he was forced to become a man before his time. After hearing about God from the nurse, all he wants was to be in that perfect Kingdom where there is no death, sickness, hunger, thirst or sadness. But he realises that like his filthy rags, he has a black and filthy heart and he cannot enter that kingdom except through the Saviour, Jesus.

Jenny's lesson is that she had to learn to make Jesus her Master. She can only find true happiness if Jesus became the centre of her life.

The only problem was, I felt that the role of the Church in a believers life was belittled in the book. Rosemary is not a missionary in the sense that she didn't come to plant a church in that part of North Africa. That is justifiable as planting churches is not a biblical role for women. Rosemary is a nurse who tells the people she treats about Jesus. But I really don't see how that sort of work can be managed unless there is a church for newly converted members to grow with. There are no churches where Rosemary lives. You're probably saying, "Prisy, it's a book for children not theologians. Get over it!" I would have gotten over it if Rosemary didn't say in page 148 that going to church 'didn't matter'. But the story covered some of the most vital things quite accurately and since it is a bit of an adventure story, children would probably enjoy it immensely. I know I loved it.

Good Things

2009-01-06T02:25:00.004+13:00

2009 has started with a bang. Not even a week has passed and I have so many reasons to be thankful.

Firstly, there is the birth of little Johanna, daughter of my first cousin Prathiba (mentioned in an earlier post) and her hubby Joe in India. Johanna was born on the second of January. Since all us cousins have always been close, this has brought great joy to our family. Prathiba and I have been especially close.Ever since I was a little girl, I looked up to her as role model. To me she was always one of the greatest people I ever knew. She was the one who taught me to draw and told me Tintin stories. We were like Batman and Robin. I'm very fond of her husband Joe too. Joe was a big brother figure in my life since babyhood and I was always his biggest fan. And it has always been a great pleasure that two of my favourite people are married to each other. I've seen some of the first photos of the little one. She's a healthy, chubby and cuddly little baby.Since Joe and Prathiba are currently between applications for immigrating into NZ, I have great hopes of watching Johanna grow up.

Two of my other cousins also have very small children, so I have two nevvies and one noose other than Johanna. Sadly I haven't yet been able to see these other kids, but I wish the same thing for them all: that they'll all be children of God.

The second big thing that happened was the arrival of my Thatha (grandad) in NZ, permanently. Ever since Ammachi (grandmum) died five years ago, he had been living by himself in the house in Madurai. But now he has come to stay with us. Thatha had a nice farewell from family, church members and friends in Madurai and Chennai. For the flight he had the assistance of David ( a friend of Joe) who also lives in New Zealand. We thank God for David who was a great comfort and help to Thatha. It was a fairly uneventful trip except when Thatha's shoulder bag (which contained the passport and air tickets) went missing temporarily but was, through God's grace, recovered quickly. They landed in Auckland without a hitch. It will be difficult for Thatha to get used to Auckland, but so he far, he has been adjusting beautifully.

Thirdly, it's also my cousin Arun's twenty second birthday. I will always appreciate this young man's kindness in giving me tricycle rides when I was a baby, lending me Archie comics and introducing me to The Sims. I haven't seen Arun for more than a year and we're all waiting for him to pay us a visit. Happy Birthday, Cuz. God bless you.

New Year's Resolutions

2009-01-01T21:06:00.003+13:00

This year I will:

1. Stop being an idiot
2. Not talk too much
3. Learn to swim (yet again)
4. Be very good
5. Learn to do the Monkey Bars
6. Get visible biceps and a six pack
7. Go to the pool at least four times a month
8. Write regularly to my nevvies (endearing word for Nephews) and my nooses (endearing word for Nieces adopted from Uncle Waldo in Walt Disney's Aristocats)
9. Pay off part of my student loan
10. Become so strong that I can lift heavy objects (i.e. eleven year olds who refuse to go on time out)
11. Read my Bible properly everyday

Swimming

2008-12-09T17:59:00.007+13:00

Like many people, I sometimes make New-Year's Resolutions.

They usually go like this...

This year, I will:
1. Stop being an idiot
2. Not talk too much
3. Learn to swim
4. Read my bible every day without fail
5. Jog every morning
6. Write a best selling novel
7. ...........

....and so on.

Well, I think I might be able to accomplish one in the list for 2008.

I'm learning to swim.

My swimming experiences date back to the good old days of the 90's. Around the time I was six or seven, and living in Madurai (India) my mum wanted to learn to swim and decided to take me along with her. I remember my first swimsuit, bought from a flashy store in Bangalore (also in India). It was really cute with yellows, oranges, blues and purples with a frilly little skirt. Mum still keeps the swimsuit, probably saving it for any granddaughters we might give her. So we went to a nearby pool, Mum, me, my cousins, Freak (Since this individual is under the age of twenty one, I'm giving him an alias) and Prathiba (her real name) and our friend Susan.

Freak and I were too short to even stand in the shallow end. Since we were both really young,I guess the grown ups thought we had plenty of time learn to swim. So while Mum, Prathiba and Susan were learning to swim, Freak and I held on to the bars of the pool ladder while fat ladies climbed in and out of the pool.

My second experience in swimming was when I was twelve (nearly thirteen). We were living in Chennai (still India) and it was summer holidays. Freak had come over from Madurai for his vacation and it was supposed to be a fun summer. In the mornings, we were to have Vacation Bible School at the Annanagar Methodist Church (AMC) and in the afternoons, Mum was determined that we go for swimming lessons.

So Freak, Old Yeller (my little brother who is under the age of twenty one) and the Old Hag (my little sister who is also under the age of twenty one) and I were taken to the Shenoy Nagar Swimming pools. It was a traumatising experience. The swimming instructor followed a 'do or die' principle. In this case it was swim or drown...and I nearly drowned....several times. I believe the only reason the instructors pulled me out of the water before I lost consciousness was that they knew my mother was watching me with the other parents and that she would sue them if I died.
So there was Old Yeller and I, afraid of drowning, the Old Hag, having a tough time in the kiddie pool and Freak, terrified that the chlorine and sun would bleach his hair and cause it to fall out.

It was a traumatising experience and because I psychologically repressed those memories, I cannot remember whether, in the end after twenty classes, I learnt to swim or not. Anyway, even today, Freak declares that he'll do anything to get out of spending his vacations with us. And now, more than six years has passed since that time.

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to friends at Church about how I can't swim and my friends Karate Lamb Chops (yep, under the age of twenty one) and Chuzz (Ditto) offered to teach my sister and I.

So last Saturday, Old Hag, I, our new swim togs and all took the three kilometre walk to the Lloyd Elsmore Pools where we were met by Karate Lamb Chops and Chuzz. Chuzz tried to make me float on my back. My legs floated fine but my head and shoulders wouldn't. Then she wanted me me to kick my legs so I'd float and it worked...for a few seconds until my weak unfit legs got tired and down down down I sank. But we had loads of fun. Chuzz had this flat cushion-like-thingee which once soaked in the water can be used as a frisbee. After a game of frisbee, Karate Lamb Chops treated us all to the spa where we sat in the bubbly hot water and chatted like old ladies. I was quite sore by the time I got home.

On Monday, Karate Lamb Chops texted that she was getting off work early and would I like to go swimming? That day we tried the flutter board. I held it to my chest and tried to float on my back but fell under the water sideways. I tried to float on my tummy by holding the board to my chest again. Mr. Board slipped from under me and again I went down under the water. So the day went by with me trying to tame Mr. Board and Mr. Board giving me the slip and, oh yeah, me falling under the water. A couple of hours later I treated Karate Lamb Chops to ice cream and we ate it near a pond where we could look at the ducks. After we chased away three horrible sea gulls from kidnapping a duckling and fed the greedy ducks bits from our ice cream cones, we went home.

Three days have passed and I'm still aching. It shows how much exercise I need, so I've been exercising a bit everyday since then. Maybe we'll go back again this Saturday.

I Hate/Love my Job

2008-11-26T02:20:00.005+13:00

I have a job. That's a good thing, especially during this time of recession and economic depression.

My Gangsta Friend Who Voted Labour (since this individual is under the age of 21, I will protect her identity and give her an alias) advised me to apply at her workplace which was the after-school care center of a local primary school. I did as she said and was hired the next day.

And let me tell you: working with children between the ages of five to twelve is hard! Because children between those ages are evil (pronounced as eeeeeeevil). They fall off the monkey bars, cry murder, claim to have broken both their arms and both their legs, make you look for the First Aid Kit, almost give you a heart attack and for what? Ten minutes later they're happily skipping around without a thought for the drama they caused. And when they don't get what they want, they pull the 'stick-out-the-lower-lip-and-look-sad' trick. Even Hitler wouldn't have been able to resist that.

And worst of all, they're nothing like how you were as a kid. You were a good little child, quiet, reading a book in a corner and not causing any trouble.

But I love my job. I love it when the twins suddenly turn into hugging monsters and make me their target. I love it when The Video Game Obsessed Kid Who Is A Ben10 Fan becomes tired and moves into a corner and rests with his Tatty Ted stuffed bear in one hand and his other thumb in his mouth. I love it when the Zimbabwean Kid Who Can't Speak English runs to me as soon as he sees me. Yep, I love those kids who fall off the monkey bars and use the 'stick-out-the-lower-lip-and-look-sad' technique.

And there is the bonus! Oh what pleasure it is to buy lunch for yourself without having to ask your parents for money. Or to buy your friend a birthday present! And my boss is nice. Plus having two of your friends working with you is great.

Yep, I love my job.

Introducing the Rambler

2008-11-17T19:31:00.000+13:00

Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.

Hello, I am Priscilla. For short, people call me 'Prisy', which is pronounced like 'Prissy' but spelled with one 's', because I'm not a prissy person.

I'm Indian, born in South India and a pure-blooded Tamil. But now I live in New Zealand with my father, mother, brother and sister. We love India and our family is still back there, but we have a new affection for New Zealand and have come to think of it as home. New Zealand is seriously the most beautiful place on earth, and I can say this living in Auckland which is probably one of the least beautiful places in this country.

Anyway, we're happy here. In the last three years since we've immigrated, we've done a lot of new things and we've met a lot of people we can't imagine life without. God has been very good to us.

Now back to the rambler. I have this blog mainly because I'm not very good with correspondence and this is a good way to let cousins who are too busy, friends with limited access to the net and uncles living in Kuwait know how I'm doing.

There isn't much to know about me. I'm a bit introverted. I definitely prefer reading a good book to playing soccer. I also love writing and dream of writing a best seller someday. I love singing even though I don't have an exceptional voice. In fact I'm forbidden to sing at home by my sister.

Most importantly, I'm a Christian. I was baptized when I was thirteen back in India. Today we go to a Reformed Baptist church and hope to become members soon. Even though we have our shortcomings, we try to live for God. And like I mentioned earlier, God has been very good to us.