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Much of the literature on mothering a child with a disability focuses on grief in the context of diagnosis, with a paucity of longitudinal studies focusing on ongoing grief as the child moves through the life stages. This qualitative study explores the existence of recurrent grief within the lived experience of six women, in mothering their children with intellectual disability through to young adulthood. Informed by the differing theories of grief and disability, the study considers mothers' perception of the experience of recurrent grief as influenced by personal and societal factors, with a focus on its triggers, its manifestation and its amelioration. The findings have relevance to social work practice, policy and research in revealing the necessity for ongoing support and advocacy for mothers of children and young adults with intellectual disabilities.

In the family therapy literature there is increasing interest in the dialogical approach, particularly as it becomes well-grounded in psychotherapy research. One embodiment is ‘open dialogues’, which has developed over a 30-year period in Western Lapland, Finland. This paper outlines my experience of visiting Keropudas Hospital in Tornio, Finland, the birthplace of open dialogues. It explores the seven theoretical principles of open dialogues, associated elements of clinical practice, and the therapist use of self. The author utilises these aspects to reflect on dialogical moments through words and images based on three conceptual themes, which illustrate the relevance of open dialogues for family therapy practitioners and their contexts.

Foster parents often despair over the lack of information about the past experience of the children in their care, particularly with children who have experienced infant trauma and neglect. In the context of family therapy these unknowns pose both a challenge and an opportunity. The author proposes that foster children gives clues to their past experiences in therapeutic moments, which the therapist may recognize as a result of her own inner conversation. In conjunction with a sound theoretical knowledge of infant trauma and neglect, these moments have the capacity to open a dialogue in the relationships between therapist, child and foster family. This dialogical process offers an opportunity for the child's past experience of infant trauma and neglect to be expressed in silence, and the foster parent's present experience to be heard in stillness, opening for them a way to go on beyond the family therapy sessions.

PEOPLE OFTEN REFER TO MY ACCOUNTS of the lives of two of modern India's "founding fathers," M. K. Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru, as "biographies."1 However, I do not see myself as a biographer, or these works as biographies, in the accepted sense of tracking and interpreting a life from the cradle to the grave, and, more problematically, of taking the individual as the only intellectual and analytical center of the argument. Readers who look for that sort of account of the life of these two men will find areas of their lives dealt with in passing rather than in depth, precisely because they do not illuminate the core problems that I investigate. (To take an obvious example, those who want a detailed and sensational account of Nehru's relationship with the wife of the last British viceroy will be disappointed. Quite apart from the constraints of historical evidence, what seems to me more significant than its precise physical character is her role as a sounding board and confidante, mostly in lengthy letters, over the early years of independence and most of his prime ministership, and what this tells us about his isolated position and his major concerns.) I see myself not as a biographer but as a historian of a time and region-South Asia from the late nineteenth to the late twentieth centuries-who uses the medium of

Several years ago I stood on the shore at Cochin, an ancient port south of Bombay, and looked out across the Arabian sea towards the Arabian peninsula, and it became abundantly clear from the many craft, old and new in their design, that this was a gateway, and that the sea was a highway as much as a boundary. Many rulers of India and historians of the subcontinent have assumed that the Indian subcontinent is above all a great land mass — the size of Europe without Russia — and that control of India means control of land. This was not surprising as most premodern invaders made their way into India by land from the north. Even the British, above all a seafaring people, whose control of India depended on their global supremacy at sea, assumed that the heart of India was its villages, and that control of land and its resources, and alliances with groups who controlled those who laboured on the land, were the key to their empire. Moreover, they assumed that most Indians were a sedentary, settled people, tied to their natal villages by bonds of livelihood and emotion. Even as late as 1921 one of the most important European Indian civil servants involved in producing the decennial census that year drew on this long-held imperial assumption and noted ‘the home-loving character of the Indian people, which is the result of economic and social causes, and of the immobility of an agricultural population rooted to the ground, fenced in by caste, language and social customs and filled with an innate dread of change of any kind.’1

This chapter examines the experience of Jawaharlal Nehru in the processes of decolonization. It focuses mainly on the 1930s–1950s, the transitional period of the end of British rule in India and the making of a new nation-state in India. We might call this phase “the long decolonization,” as the British devolved power constitutionally to Indian politicians and began to appoint Indians to senior roles in the civil service and the army, while at the same time much that was colonial in origin remained even after formal independence. Contrary to his popular image as a member of India’s political elite who moved seamlessly as Gandhi’s heir to become India’s first Prime Minister — much admired, successful at integrating India and maintaining her stability and establishing her as a world player — this chapter probes some of the problems of his role, particularly the dilemmas of his colonial inheritance.

List of Maps - Acknowledgements - A Note on Transliteration - Notes on the Contributors - Introduction: Hong Kong's Transitions J.M.Brown & R.Foot - Hong Kong in British Decolonisation J.Darwin - The Colony's Shifting Position in the British Informal Empire in China R.A.Bickers - Government and Politics in Hong Kong: A Colonial Paradox S.Tsang - National and International Interests in the Decolonisation of Hong Kong, 1946-97 B.Hook - Reflections on Being Chinese in Hong Kong D.Faure - Hong Kong Communities Overseas R.Skeldon - Hong Kong's Transition to Chinese Rule: The Fate of the Joint Declaration J.T.H.Tang - Hong Kong's Economy and Its Global Connections: Prospects for 1997 and Beyond M.Taylor - Hong Kong: A New Beginning for China? M.Yahuda - Index

17β-Estradiol, which is luteotropic in rabbits, was administered during pseudopregnancy via polydimethylsiloxane (Silastic) implants to determine the effects on serum progesterone concentrations. Implants which released estradiol at a rate of approximately 2 βg/day were placed beneath the skin the day after sterile mating and ovulation (day 0).Blood (3 ml) was obtained from the marginal ear vein on days 3, 6, 9, 10, 11 and 12. Serum estradiol levels, determined by radioimmunoassay, were 2- to 3-fold higher in estradiol-treated rabbits (11.7 ± 1.2 pg/ml) than in untreated pseudopregnant controls (5.9 ±1.4 pg/ml). Weights of corpora lutea in treated and control rabbits were not different at the conclusion of the experiment on day 12. Serum progesterone concentrations, also determined by radioimmunoassay, were not significantly different between treated and control animals. However, when estradiol implants were removed from other rabbits on day 10, a rapid decline in serum progesterone occurred, from 14.0 ± ...

Centenary celebrations of the birth of any prominent man attract assessments of his character, career and influence. Nothing could be more understandable, particularly in the case of M. K. Gandhi, who was by common consent one of the greatest leaders Asia has produced in an era of colonial nationalisms and decolonization, who in his own life time was called a saint and a machiavellian politician, and who has become in independent India both a national myth and an embarrassment. Accounts of the importance of Gandhi in modern India tend to fall into two main categories. There are those who dismiss him, often regretfully, as an idealist whose Utopian plans for a democracy of village commonwealths and a non-violent society have collapsed in the face of economic and political necessity and the machinations of unscrupulous politicians. In the words of Jayaprakash Narayan, ‘If you consider the political ideologies attaining in India today, you would find that somehow one who is called the Father of the Nation is completely missing from all of them’. Such pessimism assesses Gandhi as if he had been solely a dispenser of blue-prints for a brave new world, and fails to see him as a dynamic leader whose greatest influence flowed from the type of movement he led and the techniques he used, rather than from the peculiarly personal ideals he held. On the other hand, there are those who hail him as the Father of India and try to draw direct causal connexions between his ideals and many of the major changes which have occurred in India since 1947, particularly the official abolition of Untouchability and the institution ofpanchayat raj.But this is the perspective of the biographer. It underrates the complexities of politics and society and their interaction, and turns a blind eye to the innumerable cross currents which make up the main stream of Indian social and political activity.

PART I of this study showed that we had to impose a control for class in order to find demographic differences between depressed and nondepressed medical inpatients. Additionally, there were differences from class to class. One measure (the clinical diagnosis) indicated that depression was most frequent in the upper class, while others (Beck Depression Inventory [BDI] 1 and Hamilton Rating Scale for Depression [HRS] 2 ) revealed a greater frequency in the lower class. Inasmuch as the medical staff diagnosed depression in 32% of the upper class but in only 8% of the lower, we wondered whether poverty, lack of education, and low social status obscured the clinical picture of depression so that many of the lower-class patients were not diagnosed. Therefore, because we suspected that there would be class differences in the manifestations as well as the frequency of depression, we undertook an analysis of the