It was Richard Wagner's 'Tristan und Isolde' playing at the Cidade da Musica, Artes . The first Act commenced as soon as lights in the Opera House went down. Eduardo was sitting between the two young men in the front row of the box. Behind him there were two young Italian women sitting in the second row and Francis was placed in between two sets; the Italians on his left and the American twosomes with whom he had that encounter on the beach front Cafe.

The seating in the box did not appear to him as deliberate or of any premeditative nature but an arrangement that had naturally occurred by the way the group entered in the box. The others were paired off from the beginning and he was an odd ball with no partner who he could claim as his, 'amant d' soiree 'because his benefactor had deserted him when they arrived in the lobby. The two Americans also ignored him as if they never had any face to face encounter with him.

Francis was used to his lone status and had learned to deal with it. The Opera itself was not new to him. He was an accomplished musician in his own rights. As a teenager, he had been in the Choir and by the time he left the Vatican, was well versed with the instrumentation of the operatic repertoire to an expert level that he could recognize a Fugue, whenever it was slipped in the arrangement by a cleaver composer.
Sitting amidst the strangers all he could do was to pretend he was engrossed in the opera but in reality, he was in the box bodily only. He glanced at his right and left and the couples were in the same boat with him except that they were in the land of their heart's desires together; in an ecstatic state that would rival the lovers- Tristan and Isolde of the opera. Eduardo on the other hand, was fully absorbed in watching and listening to Wagner's creation. Francis was familiar with the story of two lovers; the valiant German knight Tristan and his beloved; Isolde an Irish princess. The plot meant nothing to him. It had not kindled any amorous feelings in his heart when the first time he had watched a special performance in Vienna; a long time ago. At that moment, he was simply wondering what he was doing there with the strangers but then, he had no choice but to watch the amour being acted on the stage or observe it in the box he was sitting, in a more natural settings; people in love and expressing it unconditionally.

Francis was making mental notes of his own reactions to the ambiance in the theater in general but in his immediate surrounding in particular. The music was floating in the air and a subtle fragrance released in the auditorium to improve the moods of audience, perhaps was also adding joy to the lovers' euphoria. He was experiencing the senses of being alone amidst the hundreds of humans gathered in that auditorium, as if he was out of his body and was watching the scene from above, just like the celestial bodies of heaven surrounding the Mother and Son in Francesco Botticini's painting, ' Assumption of the Virgin'. He felt serenity taking control of his self and slowly he got up from his seat and exited the box. His departure just before the first act ending, was not even noticed by the group with whom he had a formal interaction just an hour before.

As he descended the stairs and reached the lobby, the crowd poured out of balconies and boxes, rushing to powder rooms and toiletries. Francis had stepped out in the street and was heading towards the taxi-stand when someone hailed him,
" Father Mendez! Is that you?"

Francis had not heard those words in the past few years since he left his Church in New Mexico and ignored them but the caller was persistently coming towards him, repeating the call. Reluctantly he stopped to see to whom the caller was addressing! In the dim street lights, he could only ascertain a man rushing towards him with a grin pasted on his face as if he had found his long lost relative. Francis was still in the detached state of mind and the presence of this intruder was appearing to him like a figure one sees in a dream. Blankly he looked at the face that was very close to him now but his numbed mind had made no efforts to search his memories; leave aside placing the man somewhere in his past.
"Oh my God; oh my God, I can't believe my eyes! It's you, Francis, it has to be you. No doubt in my mind; Holy Mother of Lord, thank you, thank you; I found him...."
Francis was irritated by the newcomer's rude intrusion but he was now back out of his sojourn in the la-la land and held the man's outstretched hands that were trying to engulf him in a hug and said:
"Get hold of yourself sir; I don't believe we have met before."
Those words had instant effect on the exuberance of the person confronting Francis and in a rather hurt tone he said, "I am your older brother 'Pascal '; don't you remember me at all? I am Pascal my brother, I am Pascal". He repeated in anguish as his kid brother stood there in front of him with vacant eyes and not responding.
Seeing the visage of that frozen man, Pascal began to doubt his conviction that the man passed by him was his long lost brother. He felt it was a case of a mistaken identity and began to retreat from the scene.
He spoke in Portugese: "Perdoe-me senhor! Eu pensei que vocfosse meu irmo." (Forgive me sir! I thought you were my brother). Pascal then turned around and started to walk back rapidly as if he was getting away from a ghost. He must have gone few yards and froze in his tracks as he heard:
""Pascu, meu irmo, no GoAway; Eu sou o seu Francis".
Twenty plus years had passed since Francis and any of his family members ever set eyes upon each other. The string that ties a family together, which in their case was already a weak one from the very beginning due to the artificial divinity bestowed upon the child Francis, was perhaps getting a new life.

"Complexity is but simplicity multiplied" wrote Percy A. Scholes in 'The listeners guide to Music'. He was commenting on the construction of a symphony. The complexity of life though cannot be explained as simply as that.
'Who am I', a question that rose in the mind of first being that was created and left in the dark like the 'Le Penseur' (Thinking Man)' of Auguste Bodine, as the Upanishad's account for creation notes. To this day, that question has received no answer which will account for the complexity of human diversity and the yearning for unity. Compartmentalized and divided into endless fractions, the human race just seems never to be able to reach the goal of being 'One' with the spirit that gave life to a biodegradable mass of atoms, molecules and compounds called body.

Francis is a representative of that diverse humanity, born with different sets of rules the nature set for it, is an outcast, mainly because someone defined the rules of human relationships, without the authority of the creator and set the code of right and wrong for the human relationship, perhaps based on the reproductive needs of humanity.
Francis had deliberately severed his contacts with his family out of the shame he thought he would bring to them because of rebellious action he took against the church. He had no way of knowing the consequences of his decision he took that day on the Native American Rescue center in new Mexico where he had sent the emissary from the church back to Albuquerque without his apology and desire for forgiveness of his errors . The fact that the church authority had simply ignored him and had done nothing to cashiered him out of his priesthood; they simply let him lose as he had not violated his wows nor any sinful acts were reported against him. On the contrary, he had exemplary service record.

After holding each other in an embrace and kissing on the cheeks, brothers overcame the surge of the emotional storm which in case of Francis, it was held back in some remote corners of his heart for a long time. They walked holding hands on the boulevard like two school boys in Goa would have. There were many questions and too many inquiries and it was getting dark. Pascal had to leave his brother and return to his hotel to catch a train to Sou Poulo where he lived with his Brazilian wife and three children. They exchanged addresses and Francis promised him never to disappear in the wilderness of this planet again. He hailed a cab and dropped Pascu to his hotel and headed home. For once, he felt genuinely happy and did not think about anything else but his childhood in Goa