The Grand Celebration called Funeral.

        

My Paternal Grandmother (Ms Carmine Coelho)

My Paternal Grandfather (Mr Raimand Coelho)

                                          

My Family at the Funeral of my Paternal Grandfather

        My First death experience or rather witness of death was when I was about 3 years old. We had a dog with whom I would play all day long. One day I found him lying on the ground. I went to him and touched him as usual, but surprisingly he was too cold. Instinctively even I at that age realized that there was something wrong. I began to cry not because I thought that he was dead, but because he was cold, which was not a pleasant feeling.

        As a kid, I loved to eat. But I was yet to discover what to and what not to eat. One day I learnt this lesson a hard way. To be precise a centipede that was passing by taught this lesson. I might have accidentally touched it as a result it might have instinctively crawled into a biscuit at least that was what I thought it was when I tried to eat it. When my teeth crushed it to extract its juice, I felt that the acid was burning my tongue and the entire mouth. It was painful enough for me to stop experimenting with the food. Ever since then I would eat only what is put on my plate. Even though I understood that some things are dangerous, the concept or the reality of death was not yet evident for me.

        When I was 4 years old, I remember that one day my grandmother fell very sick and was taken to the hospital by boat. I was eagerly waiting for her return as I had got used to her presence. But, when she returned, there seemed to be a grand celebration. She was brought in a colorful box. She was well dressed and decorated with flowers. I was surprised and confused to see all the neighbors and the relatives gathered around her. I was happy that she returned in a short time. I was eagerly waiting to play with her. 

        I was a bit surprised to see some of my relatives crying inconsolably. It was for the first time I saw an adult crying. I was amused by it and was curious to know why they were crying. I was sincerely happy for my grandmother and was enjoying every moment of that celebration which now I realize was the funeral. I remember that during the procession to the church I was carried on the shoulders of one of my uncles. All this gave me the impression that it was a feast similar to our parish feast or the Christmas celebration. 

      Finally, when we reached the church the mass began as usual. But there was one difference that caught my attention. The priest had a different tone in his homily. There was no story as there used to be during all the other mass that I had attended. The only part of the mass that captivated my attention was the stories that were either in the readings or in the homilies. This homily was different and unsettling. He spoke about death and resurrection. He said that dead people go to be with the Lord and to intercede for the living. It made no sense to me. I could not yet grasp the idea of death and here he was speaking about going to be with the Lord. 

        After the mass, the horrifying incident took place. My dear grandmother who was the center of attention until now was sealed in the box and lowered into the pit, at least that's what It seemed to me back then. People started to throw the mud on to the box in which she was. I was horror-struck. But I don't remember if I was crying. 

        The next day I was looking for her all over the House. I could not yet understand what had happened. I was expecting her to be back with us, at least that is what used to be after every celebration. I would ask my mother and she would say that my grandmother had gone far away. So it seemed that it would take a while for her to return. I might have accepted it without much hassle. I don't remember how many times I have asked for her, but I did cry every time I remembered her. 

       One day I stopped asking for her. Maybe I got used to living without her. Or maybe I accepted that She was not coming back like that dog which never came back after it felt cold. Or maybe I started to see death as the doorway to heaven which will open for all even for me in its own time. Either way, there was no point in crying over the dead, but instead, rejoice that doorway to heaven was open and there was one more soul which interceded for my family.

        Now when I look back at that event of the death of my grandmother, do I regret that I did not cry at her funeral? Not really, I rather feel satisfied that I honored that grand celebration called funeral. To add to that I did not cry when my grandfather died a few years later. I even went to the extreme of playing with my cousins, when his body was exposed in the house for mourning. I remember vividly that one of my uncles expressed displeasure towards our insensitive behavior. That was for the first time I realized that all cannot accept death in the same manner and everyone takes their own time to overcome that feeling of loss.

        Recently one of my degree classmates had expired of a heart attack. When I got the news, I felt sad for the family which lost a young son, who was just beginning to live his youthful days. But, I could not cry, as I was conscious that death is part of life. When that time comes nothing can be done and it does not matter how old you are. By crying I cannot get him back. But I do realize that by crying out your heart you can be healed of the pain of loosing a loved one. But again what if you don't feel the loss at all. Aren't they always going to be with us even after death? This is what our religions teach us. They will continue to watch over us. Isn't this knowledge enough to console us? It may not be so for all. There will always be some who will take time to get back to their life after loosing a loved one.

        It is not that I forget people after their death and move on. I remember them very often at least once a year. I strangely feel happy after remembering and praying for them, I don't know if it's my satisfaction of knowing that I have done something more for them other than attending their grand celebration called funeral or if it's a grace of their prayers for me.

My Maternal Grandfather (Mr. Abraham Monteiro)

My Friend and Classmate ( Mr. Majid Hussain)

Family Dog (Shiro)

The Infection of the Voice of Dissent

        

#STANDWITHSTAN 

For more details visit :

https://standwithstan.jcsaweb.org/

         When the coronavirus struck the world we became aware of an age-old method of curbing the spread of disease. This method is now well known as quarantine. Here we isolate all the infected from the rest to avoid the further spread of the virus among the people. Even if we have the slightest doubt of the infection we will have to isolate that person. It seems to have been very effective right from the beginning. But never forget that its effectiveness depends on the strictness of its implementation.

        The Indian government has been very prompt in implementing this method of isolation. It had imposed the nationwide lockdown to curb the spread of the virus. To a certain extent, it has been successful in curbing the spread. But we can always debate if we could have avoided the loss of livelihood and lives of migrants caused by this lockdown.

When I think of it, India has been using the method of isolation to curb the spread for a very long time. So, it's no surprise that the government had no doubts about its effectiveness. You may be wondering when did we use it! Did we have such a pandemic? But remember that the quarantine helps to curb the spread and that is why we didn't feel the pandemic.

Let me give an example from our recent past. Are you aware of Vernon Gonsalves, Arun Ferreira, Sudha Bharadwaj, Varavara Rao, Gautam Navlakha, and the latest addition, Fr Stan Swamy, who are all quarantined in the quarantine center called prison? You may be wondering what is it that they can spread which is more dangerous than coronavirus. They can spread the dissent, the worst pandemic, and the nightmare to any government. It may not spread as easily as coronavirus, but when it is well spread it will stay for a long time. It is so dangerous that even in the midst of the corona pandemic the government-led agency chose to quarantine the latest victim Fr Stan Swamy, an 83 old Jesuit priest who worked tirelessly towards the welfare of the Adivasis of Jharkhand.

There are many symptoms to identify the infected person:

1. The person becomes aware of constitutional rights and makes others aware of them.

2. The person speaks for the poor and the marginalized section of society.

3. The person encourages the people to come out without any mask of religion, caste or creed and stand for their rights.

4. The person has tremendous guts to voice out his or her disagreement with the functioning of the government and its policies.

As soon as the above symptoms are noticed get ready to quarantine that person. Normally these people don't realize that they are infected. So, they are tricked to believe that they have come in contact with other more dangerous infections like terrorism. As a result, no one would want to be in contact with them. This further helps our government to safely quarantine them in prison.

As the corona lockdown is over, so also the lockdown of dissenting voices should be over immediately. Because the corona is here to stay, so also the dissent is here to stay. Moreover, more and more people are infected with both the infections. Now our only hope against coronavirus is a vaccine. But will it work 100% ? It is still doubtful because the other vaccine called the constitutional right to dissent does not seem to be 100% effective? 

The quarantine of the coronavirus has to continue as and when it appears. Maybe one day it will all be over. But it does not seem to be so with the other infection. The quarantining of the voices of the dissent will continue, but the end does not seem so near. For as long as there are free women and men there is always a chance of new infection of the voice of dissent.

 

The Knock of Hope

            

(This Photo was taken by me when I was in quarantine in Blomet community, Paris.)

            If I recall it right, my first quarantine was in February of 2018. It was early in the morning when my body started to itch. I was not sure what was the cause of this itching. I went on to have my breakfast, but the itching continued. My Superior back then noticed my struggle and the dance caused by the itching and inquired about it. I explained what was happening to me. He, along with other community members came to the conclusion that I have the symptoms of the well-known disease among the French known as ‘La Varicelle.’ For a moment I thought I had caught a rare disease and I would have to suffer a lot. But my community members were kind enough to console me and explain that ‘La Varicelle’ is nothing but the Chickenpox, which is mostly seen in children and is not a very dangerous disease. As I started to feel relaxed, I heard ‘mais’ which means ‘but’ from one of the Fathers, who added that I should be careful as this disease can cause lasting damage in the adults. So, immediately an appointment was fixed with the doctor to confirm it. 

            As expected by all, it was confirmed and the emergency was declared. Doctor indicated that I may spread it to others if they had never contracted it. He further added that there is no medicine and that I may develop some complications like lung infection. Does this ring a bell? Yes, it was exactly the same situation as with the Covid-19 patients. Just like them, I had to be quarantined. I had to follow the simple rule of social distancing when the people were around. I was provided with the food in my room. The first day was fun because even though I was occupied with scratching my body, I watched movies that I wanted to watch for a long time. But after a few days I was tired of scratching and watching movies. I felt like going for a walk in the garden, but I didn't dare to. 

Surprisingly, when I look back at those quarantine days, I feel like they were not that bad after all, especially when I think of those knocks, on my door by my community members, who would pass by to greet me and encourage me. Thanks to those knocks of hope, my quarantine days were truly the days of healing and rejuvenating. 

Now, during these days of Covid-19 quarantine, I only hope and pray that there is a knocking of hope for each of us and we in turn cause the knock of hope for others. Sometimes there may not be a door to knock, then knock on the window. If there is no window, then if possible, send the emoji or the sticker of a door and knock on it. In other words, knock in your own creative way and keep the hope alive. Because that’s the most important medicine to survive this quarantine.

My Drop in the Ocean

Under the dark sky filled with stars,

I walked the shore of life.

Only to find, the washed-out stars,

That belongs to the ocean of life.

 

So, back to their home, I threw them,

To see them live again.                                                                                                                                      

My joy was found in it,

Hence, I did it again and again.

 

A broken glass, I came across.

It would pierce my leg I thought.

Thus, to the ocean, I threw it,

To keep our legs, clean of blood.

 

How would I know?

That I was not the only one,

To dump our problems, to the world of theirs,

Which could pierce their loved one!

 

I gave life to one of them,

While I took away from others.

Without knowing what my drop did,

I dropped in both life and death.

 

Let’s add the drop of life,

To the world of theirs.                                                 

Let not the drop of death,

Make an ocean of death.

A Gift of Mine {This poem was inspired from the 2011 Fukushima accident}

The loud announcement was heard all around,

For a volunteer to enter the womb of terror.

No sound was heard in the surround,

For the fear of radiation from the reactor.

 

Should I be the one, an old man?

To sacrifice my comfort for others!

Should I do it for the love of all men?

Or at least for my child and of others!

 

Here I write it for you, my child,

To let you know that I have lived my days.

And I lived it for you, my child.

Now I am ready to die for your days.

 

I know not what awaits in there!

Yet, I go in to shut it down.

To save all hearts from death’s terror,

Which for long has held us down.

 

Soldiers lay down their lives,

For the country of theirs.

Today, I do the same,

For the humanity of ours.

 

Don’t spend your time, my child, in shedding tears,

For you got it, with the ransom of mine.

Don’t let it waste in vain with tears.

Rather make it, the best gift of mine.

 

Old Paintings

 

The Fourth Monkey

 The fourth monkey

              “Ours is the most peaceful forest in the world,” said Mariappa, the proud teacher monkey of the kadi forest school.

              Thimmappa, the student monkey said, “But, Sir! I have heard that some hunters have come to hunt us....”

              “Shut up! Thimma , haven’t I taught you not to see, hear or speak evil things.”

              “But sir! This is a serious matter. Our life can be in danger.”

              “Don’t worry, Thimma, as far as you don’t see those evil hunters or hear their gun shots or speak ill of them, we are out of danger.”

               ‘Dun Dun,’ the bell rang. It was lunch break.

              Bharathi Thimma’s friend also asserted on teacher’s words, by saying, “Look at the forest floor, it’s so peaceful, no sign of hunters nor any beast. Don’t you hear the lovely singing of the birds! So, there is no need to worry. Believe the teacher, he knows the best.”

              Still confused he jumped from branch to branch to go to his home for lunch. On reaching home, he asked his mother, “Mummy! I heard that hunters have come to hunt us down.”

              “Yes, Thimma, I did hear it from your father. He was saying that our guards have spotted four hunters near the great river,” affirmed his mother.

              “That’s bad. Mummy! Do you believe in my teacher’s old saying that as far as we don’t see those bad hunters or hear their gunshots or speak ill of them, we are out of danger?”

              “Yes. It’s true. Oh! Thimma you are wasting your time. You will be late to school. Have your lunch. Mangoes are very juicy.”

              As Thimma grabbed his share of mangoes, he said, “So, you too believe it. But I don’t believe it. How can we be safe if they are constantly searching for an opportunity to hunt us down?”

              “Oh! Thimma, you are worrying unnecessarily. You may not believe in the saying, but you can have trust in our guards. They will warn us of any danger, even before it comes.”

              “Yah! I know that. But...”

              “Thimma! You will be late get going, stop worrying and focus on your studies.”

              “Ok! Mom, Bye!”

              Bharathi was looking out of the class room wondering about Thimma. Teacher noticed her and asked, “What’s the matter, Bharathi?”

              “Sir, Thimma has not yet come back. I wonder where he is!” replied Bharathi.

              Thimma was on his way to the great river. He was determined to find out, what the hunters were up to. But, he had to be careful not to be noticed by the monkey guards as well as the hunters. So, he took the long route through the dense forest. As he reached the eastern part of the forest, he could hear some wired sounds.

              “What kind of beast is this!” he thought.

              As he cautiously moved towards the sound, he was horror struck, to see a huge iron beast ruthlessly cutting down the trees. He also noticed that the hunters were controlling the beast. One of the hunters noticed Thimma and aimed at him. But before he could shoot, Thimma began to swing back towards the great tree.

              As Thimma made his way, he sounded the alarm, “Ki Ki Hee Hee Ki.” He was so loud that all the guards along the river bank heard him. Thus, all those who heard the alarm rushed to the great tree.

Now the great tree is a meeting spot for all the monkeys when the alarm is sounded. Before Thimma could reach, the monkeys and some other animals had gathered at the great tree. Everyone was confused as to why the alarm was sounded.

Finally Thimma reached. He silenced the crowd and spoke up, “I had been to the eastern edge of our forest. There I saw a great iron beast, controlled by the hunters. It was destroying trees. And it is making its way towards us.”

There was a total silence. Everyone was terrified. Then the teacher monkey shouted at Thimma, “You idiot Thimma, how many times I have told you not to see, hear or speak evil things. Let those evil hunters bare their own sins.”

“But!”

Thimma was interrupted by a great wise owl, “You monkeys are fools. You think by not seeing or hearing or speaking evil, you can be safe. No, you cannot. How come you have forgotten the great fourth monkey of your race? He was the one who overheard the evil plans of the masters of the great river to send the flood to the forest. He had not kept quiet, but rather he had spoken of it to your ancestors. That’s how they got to the higher grounds and saved themselves.”

By then the monkey king, Raja, had reached the spot. He rebuked the owl by saying, “So, now you owl of bad omen! Are you saying our three wise monkeys were fools to tell us not to see, hear or speak evil?”

              “No! my Lord, not at all. I am just saying, what your great fourth wise monkey had said. Didn’t he say that unless you see or hear the evil, you will not know, how evil it is and how to defend yourself against it. And that you need to speak of the evil you have experienced so that others may be ready to face it, when it comes.”

              The great Prophet monkey, Nathan, spoke up, “That’s true. Today Thimma has become our fourth monkey. He has spoken the evil that he has seen and has warned us. We must prepare to defend ourselves.”

              One of the guards said, “But we cannot fight the hunters, they have guns. We will die for sure.”

              “Defending does not mean fighting. We must flee from here before we are hunted down.”

              Timma said, “But! Where can we go?”

              Nathan looked at Raja and said, “We cannot keep running forever.”

              Raja felt helpless and said, “Oh! The great wise owl, you have roomed the earth. You know more than us. Please help us to find a safe place.”

              Since the owl didn’t respond, Nathan too requested it by saying, “You are our only hope, my friend.”

              Owl thought for a while and said, “Yes, I think I can help you. Yesterday, i had been to the other side of the great river. There I had seen some humans with guns.”

              Thimma interrupted, “What! Are they hunters?”

“I too doubted. But for my surprise, they did not hunt; rather they chased away the hunters and saved a bear from being hunted.”

Raja interrupted, “So you think they will save us.”

“I don’t know. But when I followed them I saw that they lived at the edge of the forest.”

“So, how does that help us?”

“May be if all the animals from this part of the forest migrate to their part, they may notice us. If the forest spirit wills, they may help us by chasing away the hunters.”

“That’s a good idea. Listen! My fellow monkeys and freinds we shall move towards the river. The guards will lead us,” announced Raja.

So, all the monkeys along with other animals and birds moved towards the river. Owl and other birds scanned the entire forest to see if anyone was left behind.

“River is too strong for the young babies and the old like me,” expressed Nathan.

The commander of the guards commanded his team to form a floating monkey bridge across the river. The young and the old monkeys and some smaller animals walked on the monkey bridge. While the other stronger beasts crossed on their own.

The Owl looking at the large number of animals, crossing over commented, “This is the largest exodus I have ever seen.”

It took almost entire night for all the animals to cross over to the other side. So many, had crossed that not a single leaf shed by the trees could reach the ground.

“Listen, You animals of kadi forest, we need to make lot of noise to draw the attention of those humans,” announced the owl throughout the forest.

The humans, who heard the noise, were horrified and ran away. Owl noticed it and communicated to others.

“What will we do now? Who will save us?” expressed Raja.

Then out of nowhere they heard a sound coming from above. All saw up. It was a giant iron bird. It was scanning the forest for something.

“Is it searching for prey? May be our noise attracted it,” said Thimma.

“No, I don’t think so. I have seen it before. Let me find out,” said the owl.

It was a helicopter of those humans. They were trying to figure out the cause of the exodus. The owl was happy and satisfied to see them. It tried to get the attention of the humans and guided them to the region were the hunters where. On finding the hunters, they got more men to get hold of the hunters. Thus, after a long gun fight, some hunters were killed and others were arrested.

“Finally we are at peace. We have our forest back,” proclaimed the owl. With great joy and a sense of peace, the home return journey began.

Ever since that day of exodus, Thimma was called by the greatest title of the forest, the fourth monkey. The Teacher monkey too was impressed. From that day onwards he began to teach the principle of the fourth monkey, “See, Hear, Speak and Act. In other words, know the evil, let other know it and finally act against it like the fourth monkey. ”

 

 

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