Amanda Anisimova

Dear Amanda,

My heart ached watching you at Wimbledon. I didn't expect that moment to unfold the way it did—for you to freeze, for the stage to become so cruel. You seemed like such a simple, sincere girl, someone who carries a quiet flame rather than a roaring fire. You had the game. You just needed the mind to hold it steady when everything around you began to slip.

When your serve was broken so easily, and the match started running away, I saw something deeper than nerves. I saw a young woman who had worked so hard, who had probably overcome more than we know, standing in front of the world—suddenly unsure if she belonged. And then you cried. Not because you were weak, but because you cared. Because you reached for something great and the moment didn't offer you grace.

Some people laughed. Some questioned how you got to the final. But I didn't. I saw how far you’d come. Not just through the draw—but through life, as the daughter of immigrants, without the full entourage, without the privileges others take for granted. You came with what you had. You played with your heart. And you made it all the way to Centre Court. That is not nothing. That is courage.

You are not a failure. You are not a fluke. You are a fighter who happened to fall. And I pray you rise again, not just for trophies—but for your own beautiful, quiet redemption. I’ll be watching not for the titles, but for your spirit. You’ve already shown the world what perseverance looks like. One day, you’ll show them what triumph looks like too.

Come back stronger, Amanda. Some of us still believe. Always have.

With care,

A friend from afar who was moved by your tears.

Jesus Revolution

“I really think you’re looking for an excuse to be unhappy”

– Cathe to Greg

This line lands hard—Cathe (Anna Grace Barlow) sees Greg’s (Joel Courtney) hunger for truth tangled up in the shadows of his family life. Raised by an alcoholic mother Charlene (Kimberly Williams - Paisley) and abandoned by his father, Greg learns to crave stability and meaning. But without a strong anchor—like a father’s guidance or a mother’s steady love—he drifts, seeking belonging wherever he can find it.

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Review: Jesus Revolution — When Hippies Found Heaven

Directed by Brent McCorkle & Jon Erwin | Based on the book by Greg Laurie & Ellen Santilli Vaughn | Screenplay by Ellen Vaughn, John Gunn, John Erwin.

Starring: Joel Courtney, Jonathan Roumie, Kelsey Grammer, Anna Grace Barlow

Cinematography by Akis Konstantakopoulos

Composer: Brent Mccorkle

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Cathe’s challenge is more than a romantic scolding—it’s a mirror held up to Greg’s pain. She’s saying, “Are you truly seeking God, or are you using your fractured past as an excuse to remain unhappy?” That moment cuts to the heart of why many hippies of the late ’60s turned to drugs and novel movements—they were searching for what traditional structures couldn’t offer.

The film repeatedly echoes how family breakdowns—divorce, alcoholism, absentee parents left a generation of youth spiritually hungry and emotionally adrift. Greg’s mother is consumed by heartbreak in a cycle of drinking, and Cathe’s stable background contrasts sharply with his chaos. That juxtaposition deepens the audience’s empathy for both characters. It shows how family trauma can drive someone—intentionally or not—to chase fulfillment in places that only numb the hurt, like acid or communal rebellion.

As the film and many critics note, the hippie movement was often marked by “searching for the right things in all the wrong places” LSD, free love, and music festivals offered fleeting highs, but rarely lasting answers. Jesus Revolution captures this dynamic: passionate scenes of acid trips and overdose fallout (like Cathe’s sister nearly dying) highlight how quickly “freedom” slides into self-destruction.

Enter Lonnie Frisbee (Jonathan Roumie) and Pastor Chuck Smith (Kelsey Grammer), symbols of a radical spiritual rebellion. They flip the narrative: instead of searching externally, they invite the broken to find healing in a community of grace and forgiveness. The film shows how this shift from self-medication to spiritual awakening provided genuine hope where drugs failed.

Mass baptisms in the Pacific are powerful visual reminders: baptism didn't just symbolize conversion, it embodied clean living, forgiveness, and communal embrace.

The movie thoughtfully captures how broken homes and spiritual voids propelled a generation into chaos and into hope via faith. That dialogue between Greg and Cathe crystallizes the core conflict: searching outward before healing inward. It’s a timeless reminder that real revolution starts within—and sometimes it begins with admitting: “Yes, I’m looking for truth, but maybe it’s time to seek it honestly.”

The whole of the movement is held together by the band 'Love Song'who weren't just a band, they were the first chords of a new kind of revolution.

In a world where long hair and bare feet once walked away from churches, 'Love Song’s' melodies brought them right back to the cross but this time with guitars and soul-searching honesty.

Emerging from the heart of the Jesus Movement, their music gave language to restless spirits who had tasted the world’s promises and found them hollow.

They sang of grace, forgiveness, and hope not with hymns wrapped in stained glass, but with the raw, earthy sound of rock and folk that spoke the language of the streets.

Their songs turned coffeehouses, beaches, and makeshift churches into holy ground.

For a generation that had tuned in, turned on, and dropped out — Love Song helped them tune in to something real, something eternal. The film captures beautifully captures the essence of the band. 

They weren’t just performers — they were fellow wanderers who had found their way home.

The distant ripple of Normandy at Kochi

The Distant Ripple of Normandy at Kochi

D-Day Remembrance | June 6

On this day, long ago, the winds and the birds that blew and flew over Normandy felt and heard not just the sounds of war, but also the heavy hope of a world yearning for peace.

Though thousands of miles away from those bloodied beaches, the impact of D-Day was deeply felt even in small colonial towns like Kochi, nestled along the Malabar Coast.

On the shores of Normandy, France, over 156,000 Allied soldiers—from the United States, United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Free French forces—landed under relentless fire. Many were barely out of their teens. They began that day not knowing if they'd live to see its end.

They did not fight for conquest. They fought through terror, steel, and fire to end the long night that fascism had cast over the world.

In 1944, Kochi was part of British India, tied closely to the fate of the Allied war effort. Families here waited anxiously for news—of sons, brothers, cousins—serving on faraway fronts. War updates crackled through All India Radio, arrived late on newspapers from Bombay, Madras, and Calcutta, and sometimes came in the form of fragile letters from the front that took weeks to arrive.

The Port of Kochi, strategically vital during the war, stood on high alert. Ships came and went. Supplies were loaded. British officers paced its piers. And the people of Kochi—shopkeepers, fishermen, schoolteachers—lived their days under the long shadow of a war that had reached their shores without ever dropping a bomb.

Today, we do not glorify war. We remember the cost of freedom.

Their bravery didn’t just shape the course of World War II—it gave us back the world we know today.

They died with names we may never know, but they live on in every quiet morning, every free election, every child laughing in peace.
Because of their courage, the war did not last another year.
Because of their sacrifice, millions more were spared.

Many young men from Kochi and across India served on multiple war fronts around the world. And back home, their families lived in silent worry, trying to hold together work, faith, and home, clinging to news—any news—that spoke of life.

Let us not reduce their memory to a paragraph in a textbook or a minute’s silence once a year.

Let us live our lives in a way that honours the gift they gave—
a world where peace is possible,
and justice can prevail.

🕯️ We remember them.
🕯️ We thank them.
🕯️ We vow never to forget.

On this day, we also honour the quiet resilience of communities like Kochi that bore the weight of a war fought on many fronts.

The sacrifices made on those distant beaches of Normandy shaped the future even here—
fuelling conversations about freedom and independence that would soon change India forever.

The Shade we forgot

Good things happen to bad people.

Bad things happen to good people.

Or perhaps, as age settles in, good and bad simply happen — to old people.

Some call it harmless, but I think it is a quiet injustice that the Aarya Vepu — the noble neem — is now unwelcome in many Christian premises. Once a familiar, healing presence, it is now replaced with trees of little purpose. In the fierce summers of our land, when the skin cracks and the soul grows restless, the neem’s shade was a balm. Its breeze was not only cool but medicinal, a living blessing.

But now we plant പാഴ് മരങ്ങൾ — barren trees, soulless ornaments.

Who will speak for nature when even memory begins to forget?

Long ago, in a different land, giants walked among men.

The Anakim were among them — a race of great size and strength, descendants, it was said, of the Nephilim, those ancient offspring of fallen angels and mortal women. It was a bloodline cursed by heaven itself, a remnant of a time when the boundaries between earth and the divine were recklessly crossed.

God judged the fallen angels harshly; their children, the Anakim, remained — living in the hill country of Canaan.

When Joshua led the Israelites into Canaan, it was said he waged war against the Anakim, driving them out and destroying many. Yet some escaped and found refuge in a city called Gath — one of the last strongholds of their kind.

Generations later, from Gath came Goliath, the giant who defied Israel and fell to the sling of young David. Goliath, and perhaps his brothers, were the lingering echoes of a forgotten race, remnants of a war that stretched back to myth and mystery.

It is worth remembering: the Philistines, who lived in that land during David’s time, were themselves newcomers — migrants from distant shores of the Mediterranean. Like Joshua’s people, they too were not the original children of the soil.

History, like memory, is never as simple as we like to believe.

Here, in our own land, when Western medicine was rare and costly, our grandfathers revered the neem — Azadirachta indica — for its healing powers. Its leaves, bark, and breath were our shield against sickness, our answer to summer's cruelty.

Now, we forget.

We forget the sacred tree that gave without asking.

We forget that refuge is not always something we build — sometimes it is something that grows.

And the land, like a patient giant from forgotten days, waits in silence under the merciless sun.

Passover Reflections: Freedom, Faith, and the Stories We Carry

As the sun sets and we gather around our Seder tables, may this Pesach bring you liberation from all burdens, a return to what is essential and true, and a deeper connection with your story, your people, and your purpose.

Passover is not only a festival of remembrance—it’s a sacred invitation to storytelling. Almost like a commandment, we are urged to recount the tales of our ancestors, to pass them down with reverence and wonder. Among these stories, none shines brighter than that of Moses.

In 1956, Cecil B. DeMille gifted the world The Ten Commandments, with Charlton Heston’s unforgettable portrayal of Moses—a prince of Egypt who became the shepherd of his people’s freedom. Decades later, director Ridley Scott and actor Christian Bale reimagined the Exodus in their own cinematic language, reminding a new generation of the drama and majesty of this ancient journey.

The story of Moses, once a royal in Pharaoh's court, is one of divine calling, courage, and humility. The Bible speaks of him as "the humblest of all men," the one to whom God spoke face to face. Through plagues and partings, wilderness and wonder, Moses led with a quiet fire—a guide not only for his people but for all who seek freedom, justice, and truth.

Later, when the Prophet Samuel anointed King David, he invoked the legacy of those who came before: "the courage of Moses and the strength of Samson..." A lineage of strength rooted not in might alone, but in faith and divine purpose.

This Pesach, may we all remember the power of storytelling, the weight of history, and the enduring light of freedom. 

Chag Pesach Sameach.

B Thomas

Colonial India Heritage Studies

The Kumblanghi Glow

Kavaru Season Begins in Kumbalangi: Discover the Mesmerizing Bio-Luminescence in Kochi

Remember the stunning electric-blue glow in the romantic scene from the hit Malayalam film Kumbalangi Nights? That breathtaking phenomenon, known locally as Kavaru, is once again lighting up the coastal hamlets of Kochi. This natural spectacle draws visitors to the sprawling pokkali fields, where hundreds of acres come alive with a vibrant blue or neon green luminescence.

What is Kavaru?

Kavaru is a rare bio-luminescent phenomenon that occurs when water, rich in high salinity during the summer months, emits a bright electric blue or neon green light. The best places to witness this magical display are the villages of Kumbalangi and Chellanam, known for their vast pokkali paddy fields. Last year, these locations saw a surge of tourists eager to experience the captivating glow.

Why Does Kavaru Occur?

The phenomenon is caused by microscopic organisms—bacteria, algae, plankton, and fungi—that emit light in response to increased salinity in the water. These natural organisms produce what’s called "cold light" as a defense mechanism to attract mates and deter predators.

Kavaru at Chellanam and Kumbalangi

Last year, Kavaru appeared as early as February in the pokkali fields of Kumbalangi. However, this year, the mesmerizing glow has been mostly spotted around Chellanam, albeit with a slight delay, possibly due to high tides. Local residents also note that the luminescence tends to be dimmer when moonlight is strong, typically appearing after 2 am. As mid-March approaches and the full moon wanes, you may be able to catch the enchanting glow from dusk onward.

Plan your visit to these scenic villages and immerse yourself in the magic of Kavaru—an unforgettable natural wonder that lights up the night!

Oscars 2025

The 97th Academy Awards, the ceremony took place recently and celebrated outstanding achievements in cinema. Here's an overview of some of the notable winners:

Best Picture: Anora

Best Director: Sean Baker for Anora

Best Actress: Mikey Madison for her role in Anora

Best Actor: Adrien Brody for his performance in The Brutalist

Best Supporting Actress: Zoe Saldaña for her role in Emilia Pérez

Best Supporting Actor: Kieran Culkin for his performance in A Real Pain

Best Animated Feature: Flow

Best International Feature: I'm Still Here

Anora emerged as the evening's big winner, securing five awards, including Best Picture and Best Director. The film's director, Sean Baker, made history by winning four individual Oscars in one night—a feat previously achieved only by Walt Disney in 1954, though Disney's awards spanned multiple projects. The way the film was laced together so skillfully and humorously was a treat to watch making us think of our Malayalam Film Producer, Priyadarshan who make such hilarious yet socially poignant films. 

Mikey Madison's portrayal in Anora earned her the Best Actress award, marking a significant milestone in her burgeoning career.

Adrien Brody's role in The Brutalist garnered him his second Best Actor Oscar, further cementing his status as a leading actor in the industry. Ralph Fiennes was a worthy contender with his stellar performance in 'Conclave'.  

Zoe Saldaña's win for Best Supporting Actress in Emilia Pérez was historic, as she became the first American actor of Dominican origin to receive an Oscar.

The Best Animated Feature award went to Flow, a Latvian film that not only captivated audiences worldwide but also marked Latvia's first Oscar win.

I'm Still Here, a poignant Brazilian film, won Best International Feature, bringing attention to Brazil's cinematic storytelling.

These awards highlight the diverse and evolving landscape of global cinema, celebrating stories and talents from various backgrounds.