Voice of the Pilot

In the summer of 2015, with a heavy heart, I’d boarded a flight on my way back home. I was heavy-hearted because I am back from attending the funeral service of my dear elder brother’s departed soul.

My mother dropped me to the local bus terminal. She reminded me to not indulge in unwanted thought and assured she’d be praying for me.

When I boarded the flight from Dimapur Airport (DMU), the pilot welcomed us. The pilot assured us of a pleasant flight in his hoarse voice. He was talking after taking few breaks, it seems.

It was a pleasant flight till we stopped at Kolkota Airport (CCU) for allowing some passengers to join us. It rained very heavily.

In the meantime, the pilot apologizes for the delayed take off. After a brief wait we take off heading towards our destination New Delhi (DEL).

Upon nearing our destination, sudden jerking of the plane can be felt inside. A likely squall from the nearby Thar Desert region seems to be causing turbulence in the plane.

We, passengers, are in panicky-mode when we are told to calm down and wait for advice from the cockpit. We waited. With the turbulence being still there, it is more than difficult to remain calm.

Passengers young and old are demanding update from the pilot in that short, long, span of time. No update was received as expected. Instead the flight stewards are trying to calm everyone on board.

The pilot’s voice might not bring good news, we don’t know, but still we wanted to hear his voice. That’s when this line crossed my mind, ‘the pilot who hardly speaks’.

In moments of distress, we wanted hear some voice with authority, at least, from time to time. But the pilot did not do that. He might have his reasons but we don’t know!

Then, a voice was finally heard. We are diverted to take landing in the nearby Airport available, as the condition did not improve.

We made a U-turn and headed towards Lucknow Airport (LKO), where we did refueling of the plane. There we landed.

Again, it is time to wait for the voice. Personally, with my health not in its best, it was difficult to endure such kind of journey. But I have no choice in hand.

Darkness has already descended. The four hours, approximate, traveling time has been doubled. When we first boarded the flight we did not expect this to happen.

Again, we take off and reached our destination New Delhi airport more than five hours late. We were tired and exhausted. But finally we deboard the plane and we will be home, soon.

Let me tell you why I narrate this journey:

It has great similarity with my own life. The usually empty heart, the unexpected turns, and U-turns. Always needing a guiding voice. The insecure heart!

In our journey of life, there is a pilot. The journey cannot and was not always pleasant. We can be empty, tired, and exhausted due to different and difficult circumstances. I am also one of them.

Many times, we wanted to hear a voice which assured us to go on even in unwanted circumstances. The voice of the pilot of our life – Jesus Christ, was unheard. Especially, when most needed.

But His voice not being heard does not mean He is not there. Yes, sometimes He remained silent. He might be silent because we did not pay heed to Him. Or, may be, He has far greater plan beyond we can understand.

As long as Jesus Christ is there in the cockpit, He will lead us home. He will not leave us midway.

U-turns are a possibility. Personally, when I tried to settle down the way I’d planned, I was made to take U-turn in life earning zero. But since He is there, I have hope.

Even if I did not take off from my present situation, I will meet Him one day and all my questions will be met. That voice, I longed to hear again in my journey of life.

Should there be a necessity to crash in my journey, my pilot knows what’s best. I know my pilot. Did you? Will you?

One day a voice will call our name to be with Him.

With my little ones: In the same shade

Reflecting back on what has happened to me when I first take up almost the full job of looking after our two children; my three-year-old son and eight-month-old daughter, then.

I had undergone right Amygdalohippocampectomy on December 14, 2015, and the unexpected huge repercussions that happened early in January 19, 2016 that nearly ended my life, here on earth.  Now the time has arrived for me to spend most of my time with my two children again.

Left my permanent job with the sole purpose of looking after my two children, life has been more of a blessing than sadness.

I had spent, most of my childhood days, missing my parents, as I have the chance to stay with close relatives, for the purpose schooling and helping them or them helping me.  Many tears have been shed by me because I had missed my parents so much.

So, it has been my goal that once I had my own child I will not leave them whether they are with somebody or not as long as possible.  I want them to have me by their side in whatever they need and witness them as many as I could.

In that way our emotional attachment and understanding might reach the necessary level needed by a normal human being.  However, I do not want to be a possessive Dad, throughout my life, either.

They are my (our) hope for a better future.  Even if I didn’t succeed in trying to mold them into a good human being, I will simply say, I ‘d tried my best.  I gave them my whole time, in this short span of life.  Furthermore, it is more important for me that they live their life in the likeness of God.

On the contrary, I have this fear that I might not be able to provide them their financial needs.  Also, there is also this fear that in my old age I might not be able to take care of myself and left alone by myself.  There is no guarantee in life that every good or bad thing is going to happen.

A life, once lived, will not come back, as they say.  I may regret or I may regret not, that is in the hands of the Heavenly Father.  Sometimes, I did missed my office-goer life.  “Fight the good fight”.

Yes, it is important for me state that I am not a single parent.  My wife is working hard to put bread on the table every day.  Work culture in our city was hard.  No reasonable off-days when most needed were common.

Happy Father’s Day!

*Re-published Sept 2016

Homebound – Walk of Life

There was a rich and influential man.  He was influential because he was rich.

He was a good man but with shrewd workers.  His workers loved him as they can take advantage of him.  As far as he is concerned, he felt people loved him.

His workers exploited the common people and his riches were built out of their sweat.  Since he’d interacted with his closed associates, he never knew how people felt about him.  There are few homeless men around him whom people cared.

People regarded him as being selfish and greedy.  His obsession with luxury lifestyle spoke for them.  He never interacted with the common people.

Unpredictable journey
Unpredictable

One evening, he had a terrible accident and never recovered from it.  He could sense the end is near but he wanted to live at any costs.  His wealth wouldn’t last long, he thought.

He had a wish, he ordered his burial-place must be prepared in a spacious land with perfectly designed small structure.

Gradually, his wealth had declined.  He has nothing left behind for his heir-apparent, which further eroded the happiness in his life.

The end has come.  So they buried him in that specified land, per his wish.

Several times had gone by, when one day, the news of a homeless man’s death is doing the rounds.  The people, who knew him well, wanted to give him a good burial at the least.

The homeless man’s life story was filled with bitter fate.  He gave his best shot but was still reduced to this condition.  So he had the sympathy and loved of the people.  They contributed to buy his dead body a burial spot.

They heard about the heir-apparent of the rich man’s deteriorating living condition.  And they propose him to sell some land, which he obliged immediately.

At last, the homeless man was buried.  He was laid to rest next to the rich man’s spot.  The people are happy to perform the last rite of the homeless man.

In their short span of life, they walked different path, although undetermined.   They both are hated by some and loved by some as well.

Ostensibly, they ended in the same place and in the same spot.  They are going home!

Home that’s where the heart is!

It was a hot summer day.  My son just came home from school.  After finishing his home assignments, it was time for him to take a short nap.  It is a great privilege for me to assists him in whatever I could.  I’d sing him a lullaby, which would coolly put him to sleep peacefully.  I would watch him sleeping from near, very dearly.  Somehow I was reminded of my childhood days.

Since my Kindergarten days, I had the privilege of living away from home in our relatives places.  I’d stayed in their places, which are miles away from home.  This practice helped us in many ways, mostly on financial grounds, as we could not afford good schooling.  This staying away from home gave me immense joy and experience in my life.

It was during the night, I mostly craved for home.  The touch of my parents and grandparents along with my siblings was deeply missed.  Many times, I remember lying in a pool of my own tears.  This was NOT because my relatives were harsh to me.  It was just that I missed home.  The smell of home just passed through my senses.  I was just a lonesome child far away from home.  I can recall my cousins ‘sympathizing’ me as best as they could.

Summer holidays are welcomed with great excitement.  For a short stay at home we would walk miles with gaiety.  Once I told my parents, I’d already shed enough tears for the love of them that I wouldn’t shed no more tears in their departure.  However, I realized that it was far from the truth.  When Daddy was diagnosed with cancer, I regretted going to the city for pursuing higher studies.  I told him straightaway I spent too little time with them.

Home that’s where the heart is! The corporal punishments and scolding for better behavior was still sweet from parents, not from anyone other than them.  In a matter of time, we all become grownups, which make it necessary to start making our own living and fight for our survival.  At that point of life, it was impossible to stay together if the pasture was thinning away with time.  Even now we lived faraway from home.  We need to find our own way of sustaining life.

For someone, I know, it might feel not worth telling or uncalled for.  I find it to be indispensable.   We need to remind ourselves what we’ve been through.   It is simple but close to my heart.   Your comments and experience, if available, would be appreciated.   Let me reiterate here again that;

Home that’s where the heart is!

Destination Home

It was one among those many days, where I needed to rush home soon, before the end of normal working hours.  Sometimes, I needed rest or medication even in the middle of the day.  On a normal days, I always waited for working hours to end.  I’d do double checking of the work performed in the day to make sure there were no hanging transactions.  I’d even help my colleagues in doing that.

But many times, I had to rush out from the air-conditioned room, as my neurological disorder threatens to strike anytime.  As always, I need space and fresh air.  It was difficult to be in a close room.   But then I need to get home by any means. I’d entered underground subway station, which was rather crowded and lack fresh air.  I waited for a few minutes after which I boarded the train with destination to my residence.

Three or four stations passed by before I need to get out as I sense something is wrong in my body.  The positive side was that I am blessed with auras, which give me time to react or take medicines. On a normal days, I need not get down before I reached my destination.

I’d sat there on the ground leaning my back on the erstwhile pillar inside the underground subway station.  I’d called home informing my situation and the name of the subway station I’m in.  I’d request them to call in my cell phone after every five or ten minutes, to check on me or to help keep me awake.

To get home, I knew, I had to get back on train but I can’t until my condition gets better.  At last, I took my stance and decided to get back on the next trains.  Without doing that I could never get home.  The insecurities I had at these times were indescribable.   Many times I don’t know whether I would even get home, ever.  Will I be brought to hospital first or at home, was the big question looming large in my mind.

Now I want you to consider something here:  Jesus bore my iniquities to the cross before I was even born.  That was more than enough to get me home with Him in eternity.  To have that privilege, I need to do just one thing on my part, to confess my iniquities and give my life to Him.  That is the beginning of my journey towards eternal life.  However, if I didn’t take that particular step, the eternal life promised becomes and will always be a distant dream.  We were more valuable to Him than we value ourselves.  We are made to His children lest we deny it.

As you can see, I need to do something on my part to get home despite my illness threatening.  In the same way, I need to make my decision or take necessary step to have that promise of eternal life even after death.  Missed your chance? No problem, this is another chance because I am reminding you now.  Let Him have your life, it will be renewed.  I also let few trains had passed but I need to get up despite my problem.

For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.*

Back to my journey home, it doesn’t matter whether I ended up being in a hospital first before I get home.  I am blessed to get home to be with my family.  These are the adversities that drew me closer to God.  It may be mentioned here that many times  ‘the WHY ME, GOD? WHY? moments’ struck me.   But He carried me through on His shoulder to let me see the beauty of another day.  And I am more than thankful for that.

All my sufferings are nothing in comparison with the sufferings Jesus Christ bear for us in his final days.  The humiliation, the curse, the physical torture, the loneliness, the pain…., all suffered for me to live.  He will lead me home, one day.

 *1 Corinthians 1:18

Papa come Home soon

My wife and my son visited me in my hospital bed.  After curiously observing me for a while….

In my hospital bed with my son
In my hospital bed with my son

“Papa, I want to sleep in your arms please?” requested my son with great longing that can be seen in his eyes.

We took permissions from the staff concern.  And in a moment, my son was asleep in my arms.

“Papa I miss you so much, please come home now. Didn’t you miss me too?” he whispered in my ears.

“Miss you much more than you do, son.” I replied.

It broke my heart seeing him this way.  We missed each other a lot.   Sleepless nights are common in my hospital bed.  I’d been away from home for the last 20 days.  Unfortunately, I’d been hospitalised three times in  a span of 5 months for atleast 3 weeks stay in a row.

The visiting time was soon over.

“Papa, please come home soon,” said my child.

“Yes I will. Keep praying for my good health,” I said.

He really keeps praying for me.  At times, he would lay his small tiny hands on me and pray wholeheartedly for me.

The situation has been hard to bear.  But we need to follow the ordeal of life.  Unexpected turns are common in life.

The day I left my job to be with my son, I never thought such things are bound to happen.  But now, with nothing in hand I lay alone here in my hospital bed.

September 2015