First, the weather has turned cold in Delhi. My friends in Europe or U.S. sneer at the thought of a climate that plunges to 50 overnight and finds its way up to 80 by mid-afternoon being late Fall. But may I remind you that (a) the buildings here are block – no insulation -- so the bricks in the house never warm up; (b) fires compound the pollution in the city at night by those who must live/work on the streets. The mood in the city is no longer as festive as it was just two weeks back during Diwali. The city, which has over a 100 degree heat more than 250 days of the year, has settled in, just waiting for the mini-spring that will happen sometime late February.
At 4:46 a.m. Monday we were jolted awake by an earthquake. Okay, a tremor, 4.6 or something like that, but if it’s strong enough to shake the bed and wake me up, it’s an earthquake. As I held on to the side of the bed I wondered when the time was right to start running downstairs? Before the (cold) bricks start falling, or do I just take flight immediately? If a major one ever does hit this place I can’t imagine the extent of the damage and loss of life.
My dear friend, Mr. J. turned 87 yesterday. Sick, malnourished, helpless, he just wants to die but doesn’t know how. His only words to me as I wished him happy birthday was, “I’m so sick of myself.”
Well, isn’t this a cherry post? I did receive a note from a guy who lives in Colorado. He said he reads Blue Passport often but seldom responds. He writes, “Your Blogs are something I always look forward to reading because they are food for the brain. An anonymous wise man once said there is food for the eyes, food for the body, food for the soul, and food for the brain; and to me that is what your blogs are, food for my brain.” Thanks, Bill, hope this one doesn’t give your brain heartburn.
1 comment:
Not heartburn, but heartache. In view of the fact that I’ve read your posts for so long, I feel as though I really know your friend Mr. J. What gives me the heartache is his response “I’m so sick of myself”. I have felt and said the exact thing many times---except there is a huge difference between Mr. J. and me. When I say it, I am also thinking and feeling: “O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?”
The reason my heartaches for Mr. J. is because I can also say: “I thank God-through Jesus Christ my Lord!” And I know he cannot say the same!
Well, isn’t this a cherry response? Richard, I genuinely pray Mr. J. can someday say “I thank God-through Jesus Christ my Lord” and I’m looking forward to your cherry post telling me of our new eternal friend.
Bill
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