Talk? What Talk?

A young reader wrote to me in response to my previous post “No Talk, No Peace”. What he says goes something like this:

“Whenever my father talks to me, he does not talk to me with affection. He talks down to me. This makes me angry and rebellious. When I become defiant, he threatens me with his money. He cuts my allowance. That makes me resentful. I feel I want to fight back. I feel like stopping my studies. I feel like leaving home. I don’t care if the family breaks up.”

I can’t keep my thoughts off the Gaza conflict. Since day one of the military bombardment, I have been watching the horrific news.

Somebody told me something scary – that this Gaza conflict is destroying not just the Palestinians, but sanity around the globe. Now, there are more faceless people who are prepared to die and ready to blow themselves up in the name of revenge.

No Talk, No Peace

I watch the the BBC HARDtalk programme featuring Ingrid Betancourt. It was first aired in July 2008.

HARDtalk anchor Stephen Sackur interviewed Ingrid Betancourt after she was miraculously rescued from the Colombian jungles after 6 years of captivity by the guerrilla group known as the FARC.

Sackur asked Betancourt if she would still believe in peace talks with the FARC. I am intrigued by her answer which went something like this:

• We have to talk to achieve peace
• How we talk to achieve peace in a family is what we should do in a nation
• When we talk, we have to choose the rights words, say them at the right time and speak in the right tone

I am thinking about the Israel-Palestinian conflict. What has happened to all the peace talks? Did the negotiating parties choose the right words, say them at the right time and speak in the right tone?

Things happen for a good reason

There is a small glass table in my home. Right from the beginning, my mind was fixed that this table was meant for flowers and nothing but flowers. For years, a lovely floral arrangement sat prettily on this table.

A year ago, someone broke the vase that held the flowers. I was really upset. I wanted to run to the shop immediately to get a new vase, but work held me back. Yet, I did not want to leave the table undecorated. I looked around the house and saw a crystal salt lamp sitting on top of a cabinet. I decided to relocate the lamp to the glass table as a temporary measure.

When it was time for bed, I switched off all the lights. Suddenly, the whole house was caressed by a golden glow. It never happened before. I gasped in surprise. I quickly turned around to locate the source of the glow. It came from crystal salt lamp! My goodness, this lamp has been my companion for years, but I have never given it so much attention until that night.

I sat down on a chair to admire the lamp and its light. I realized that when it was sitting on top of the cabinet, its glow was restricted by its position. Now that it sits on the glass table, its glow reaches out in every direction.

I believe things happen for a good reason. The vase is broken for a good reason. I am glad I did not berate the person who broke it. If not for the broken vase, I would never have known that the crystal salt lamp and the glass table are meant for each other. Together, they fill my home with a golden glow, most distinctly at night.

A Caring Christmas

It is one of my best Christmas lunch.

My former classmate invited me to her house for lunch on Christmas day. She also invited a Hindu friend and a Muslim friend too. It is truly a Christmas goodwill lunch.

My friend’s mum has spent some time in hospital not so long ago. This Christmas, my friend wanted to uplift her mum with some Christmas cheer. So, she embarked on a rare culinary experience in the kitchen and whipped up a surprisingly delicious meal.

Something that happened at the dining table lit me up with Christmas joy. During lunch, my friend’s mum had a spasm of coughing. Everybody at the table stopped eating. Everybody turned their attention to the lady. Everybody wanted to help her.

It is their caring attitude that touches me. I realise that the guests at the dining table have gone through the experience of caring for their parents in their hour of need. This has made them more caring towards the sick and the elderly.

Many thanks to my good friend for a lovely, caring Chistmas!