One of the more amusing episodes from my time in New Delhi was the meeting an external lawyer whom we had been working with.  He came immacuately dressed in a white suit, with a red handkerchief neatly peeking out of his pocket, and had wisps of grey hair framing his entire head.

I thought I was on a Bollywood set.

If this were Singapore, I would have difficulty taking him seriously.

While in India for work, I received this instant message upon logging on from the overseas office :

Client : I am overjoyed to see you on line … if I could get your help to review the application via the email I sent you asap…appreciate it alot

From a client who had apparently been trying to contact me desparately since morning.  I really don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Yesterday evening a waiter at the restaurant expressed interest in the book that I was reading.  Or rather, re-reading — Philip Yancy’s "Reaching for the Invisible God".  So I said that I would give it to him tonight before I leave for Mumbai, which I did.  I don’t think the book is the most reader-friendly of books, but I decided to leave the finer details of if and how that book would impact the waiter’s life in God’s hands.

Dear Nikhil,

This book, written by an American Christian, is one of my favourites.  It is an honest account of the writer’s search for the Christian God who, like in Islam, is not reduced to a physical form and worshipped as such.  In other words, an invisible God who cannot be seen with human eyes or touched with human hands.

I do not know whether you are a Christian.  Whatever the case may be, I would warn that this is not the easiest book to read espcially if you have no background in Christianity.  That said, if you have an open, persevering and inquiring mind — and I sense that you do —- the truths in this book will shine through soon enough.

I hope to find this book meaningful, as I have.  If you have e-mail, do write to tell me what you think.  I should in visiting Mumbai again sometime in the future, and hope that we will get to meet again.

I took a cab yesterday from the hotel to the shopping mall.  It would be my first time experiencing (from the safe confines of a car) the streets of Mumbai on a weekday.  I thought it was a bit like the Amazing Race Mumbai.  The road was uneven and the ride bumpy, the heat oppressive — the cab had no aircon — and the traffic both vehicular and human reckless as to the presence of other cars.

Yes, I confirm that like in Little India back in Singapore, the inhabitants of Mumbai cross the roads indiscriminately.

India didn’t turn out quite as planned when I ordered sandwich (enclosing raw vegetables) for lunch upon arriving at the hotel.  I was halfway through the sandwich when I recalled the warning against eating raw vegetables (which would have been washed with unboiled / unsterilised water). 

Then in the evening while brushing my teeth I used tap water instead of bottled water.  By the time my colleague’s advice against using tap water was brought to memory I was already done.

On both occassions I expected to suddenly clutch my throat, foam at the mouth and die.  As I’m writing this post it is my third day in India, pretty much in good shape and have given up being too careful about food.  Maybe I’m being foolish, but I’ve kind of figured that there isn’t much point in saying grace over food if I’m going to be paranoid and not trust God to take care of me.

For lack of anything bettery to write about, I’m putting up this absolutely hilarious video which has been on Youtube for a while.

z

I like this photo, of Josh in an Ikea sink.  Josh has this really sweet smile that is totally disarming.

In a separate incident, Jed fell off the hawker centre chair yesterday.  It’s the second time he’s fallen off a hawker centre chair in his life.  Mental note - must complain to MP that our hawker centres are not child-friendly because they don’t have baby chairs …

Paid the company doctor a first visit today in preparation for my upcoming India trip, and received three shots — one in the right and two in the left arm — at one go.  Most unpleasant — I could barely lift my arms after the shots!  Interestingly, the shots were recorded in an International Certificate of Vaccination (or yellow booklet, a document which I spent some time during the final days in the previous job drafting) which was given to me.

I haven’t blogged in some time.  Apart from the usual routine of work, this week my boss passed away.  I never had a chance to work with her because she was already on medical leave (and very ill) when I started work at the new place.

From all accounts she was an amazing woman.  Not just in the quality of her work, but her Christ-like love for everyone around her, including her staff. 

Her funeral would be the most "international" one I’ve attended, with (former) colleagues flying in from the US, Japan, Thailand and KL to offer their condolences — proof of the tremendous respect which she commanded.

It would also be the first funeral where all the eulogies covered not just fond memories ("she was passionate about …", "she enjoyed …", "she was pretty as …"), but coveyed sincere praise and admiration for the deceased’s goodness, and a profound sense of loss.