By Niyuta
Father Francis C. Mendez was totally engrossed in reading the Bible. The Jerusalem Bible was a gift he had received from his mentor and spiritual guide ever since he started his Sunday school at the age of five. It had given him comforts and strength whenever he felt his troubles were overwhelming his moral judgment about the issues he consciously was in disagreement with the Roman Catholic Church. This time he was facing that demon again; one that had not manifested for quite a long time. It was assumed by him and his superiors in Rome, that the abomination was finally vanquished and that the Lord, when ardently implored does make miracles. For the Vatican, he was a living example of it and the same remedy that cured him could be administered to the other ordained individuals afflicted.
Tonight looking at his visage however, it appeared like a serious relapse has happened and he was looking into his trusted section of the holy Bible for the miracle. He was reading in the pages of the 'Ecclesiastes':
"Society.
I come again to contemplate all the oppression that is committed under the sun. Take for instance the tears of oppressed, with no one to protect them; the power their oppressors wield. No one to protect them! So, rather than living who still have lives to live, I salute the dead who have already met death; happier than both of these is he who is yet unborn and has not seen the evil things that are done under the sun. I see that all effort and all achievement spring from men's mutual jealousy. This too is vanity and Chasing of the wind."
Then he flipped pages and stopped at another passage that read:
"....Wisdom is a precious legacy, a boon for those on whom that shines. For as money gives protection, so does wisdom; and the good that knowledge imparts is this: its possessor finds that wisdom keeps him safe.
Consider the work of God; who can set straight what he has made crooked? When times are prosperous, enjoy your happiness; when times are bad, consider this: the one is God's doing, as is the other, in order that man may know nothing of his destiny. In this fleeting life of mine I have seen so much; the virtuous man perishing for all his virtue, for all his virtue, for all his godlessness the godless living on.
Do not be over virtuous
Nor play too much the sage;
Why drive yourself too hard?
Do not be wicked to excess,
And do not be a fool;...."
Father Mendez closed the bible while leaving a finger in that Ecclesiastes page and took a deep breath, pushed the locks of hair from his face with a jerk of head backwards and closed his eyes in contemplative way. He stood there in that stage for quite some time. His shapely eyebrows were knitted and eyes were puffy indicating the lack of sleep and his jaw muscles were tightened due to the clamping of the mouth. There was so much tension on his face that any onlooker would have been alarmed, wondering if he was having a heart attack. It was obvious that he was in tremendous agony; grappling with something that must have been of a paramount importance and he was not getting any satisfaction from any source; not even the divinity. Helplessly he came around composing himself and began reading from the same page where he had stopped. He skipped a short, ditty like poem and read:
".... in chasing the wind. And I observe another vanity under the sun: "a man is quite alone-no son, no brother; and yet there is no end to his efforts, his eyes can never have their fill of riches. For whom, then do I work so hard and grudge myself pleasures? This too, is vanity, a sorry business."
Father Francis began to revisit that moment in his youth which had taken hold of his soul ever since he had experienced for the first time; he was just fifteen year old youth then; a comely and feminine in appearance at that. That was the very first introduction to the pleasures of the flesh he had. The lasting effect of that episode had not been erased by his induction in the Seminary in Rome and the progress into the Priesthood. Nothing worked for him, the special retreats, nor the endless hours of prayers and days of penance could get rid him of the very uncontrollable sexual urge he felt each time he came in contact with young boys and men and that had brought him to this remote and unimportant outpost in the Native American section of the Four Corners, instead of originally contemplated posting to the prestigious Massachusetts Diocese. All caused by his honest confession to the Church Superiors about his affliction as they called it.
It all began in his native land like this- with a young and handsome Italian Priest; a Vatican emissary and senior official, who had come to visit his church in Goa to bless the High School graduations. That night, he had spent with the guest in his room who had answered all his questions about his sexuality and explained the sensations he used to feel while wrestling with young boys on the team and the erections he had by just thinking about it. Initially, that had frightened and filled him with enormous guilt and he prayed to the Virgin Mother of God to free him. That did not work and the remedies, Father De Mello, his parish priest and spiritual guide, had prescribed- the cold showers and the usual invocation of Mother Mary's chants had not given him anything else but a running nose and anxious moments.
The Monsignor had seduced him that night by feeding him liquor filled Swiss chocolates and by touching his body sensually and kissing him ardently; all of which he had enjoyed immensely and wanted more of it. Young Francis, the God like son had never known affection that a young child experiences from his or her parents, brothers and sisters or neighbors. In his town he was the untouchable divinity that had the human needs of tactile affections and the loving touches but never received. How could a young man deprived of the natural experiences and education about the changes in body chemistry occurring, recognize the sexual impulses his growing body was sending to his psyche?
The experience of that night made it clear to him that he needed same sex partner to experience the pleasure his body was capable of giving him but then, he was trapped in the unnatural environment of not his choosing and there was no retreat for him, he was preordained to priesthood; just the way the Italian Monsignor was perhaps trapped in his own prison.
That fateful night the very pages of the Ecclesiastes 4 and 7, which he had just visited, were read and explained to him first time by the Monsignor, preparing the youth for the "Pleasure Journey," as the imposing and influential man of God, had called it then. Francis was frightened in the beginning but the experienced man's skillful touches at the right spots had replaced his anxiety into that desires; those very desires neither the cold water bath not the Hail Marries had removed but had been suppressed. He had participated in that ritualistic introduction to his awakening but then, he had also experienced the jealousy when another young man was placed in the services of Monsignor; he had been wounded by the arrow of Eros; he was in love; the intensity of feeling for a man was no different than the feeling of love for the Lord. He did not know what to do or who to approach to get relief. No one would have understood anything save Monsignor Philip, and he was gone. The issue never left him but he managed to keep it under the wrap and quit the wrestling all together.
Ten years had passed and during that time he had progressed on all the fronts as per expectations of him was made, first by the local Church and later by the Vatican authority. However, the malady, as he many times convinced himself he had, was just kept under control because and by the cold and austere ambiance and close supervision he had in the various educational institutions he had been put through. In spite of all that training into the serving of the Lord, it was finally recognized by him and by his superiors that something had to be done about it. The ubiquitous Devil controlling him had to be contained by not giving any exposure to the comely and attractive youths and that was a distinct possibility if he was to be posted in New England.
So the remote outpost was chosen first in an Amazonian Village in Brazil among the natives and after a five years stint, he was posted to a parish in a little town next to an Indian reservation covering the territory of northern New Mexico, Southern Utah and Eastern Arizona. The time will erase the sexual instincts and lack of European faces would prevent attraction was the rationale behind such action by those who never understood human sexuality in the first place. Question of such a prodigal son being kicked out of the Order of Holly Roman Catholic Church was not even considered because that would tantamount to admitting that such vices, if they are to be labeled as such, existed and the religion was helpless in eradicating what was deemed as man's unnatural and base needs.
The necessity for maintain Priestly celibacy was considered a 'must' by the overwhelming majority at the top level. They were the Cardinals, who had endured it and had reached to that ripe old age in celibacy. They were the decision makers who took no account for the Passion or the hormones which give birth to it and makes it an uncontrollable and compelling necessity. Unfortunately, that separation from the 'object of passion,' remedy did not work after all. Blame it on the Lucifer if you like or the Creator Himself as the lines of Ecclesiastes said:
'Consider the work of God; who can set straight what he has made crooked'.
He could not accept the label, ' Crooked'; " I am not crooked; I am just the way I was made", he thought, affirming his guiltless idiosyncrasies and the exemplary field work he had done ever since he was posted in the remote villages of Latin America.
What happened that night after three months of his settling down in the US, was indeed a cruel joke played on him by the destiny. He was in early thirties now when he arrived in the US. Until now he had not encountered any temptations in the jungles of Central Americas and was considered, 'free of that abomination', but then, that what was hidden from his sensory organs which triggers the passion, came in his sight and also within his influence as he returned to that parish in New Mexico. This is the account of that episode:
A new family had moved in the parish. The head of the household was an engineer posted from Francis' homeland- Goa, to the natural gas field exploration station in the deserts bordering Utah. These were the DeCostas. The family consisted of, father- Ivan, age 35, mother-Sushila, age 29, daughter- Jill, age 18 and son-Pravin, age 15.
When DeCosta found out that the parish Monsignor was a local, home town grown and perhaps Kokani speaking Goan, they were delighted and did not wait to settle down to invite Father Francis home for a Goan feast. When Father Francis arrived at the villa that evening, he was delighted to meet Ivan, Sushila and Jill. Young Pravin was playing soccer that evening. The evening began with the traditional prayers and the blessings of the dwelling routine and they exchanged news of the native land which Father had not visited in a decade and had to do the catching up routine with the DeCosta.
The Goan- Portuguese Port wine was excellent and arid smell of Goan Spices added to the gaiety. Sushila sang few native songs and Jill entertained him with few Chopin's piano polyphonies. The evening was advancing perfectly and then it unexpectedly happened and the ambiance vanished in a poof like the proverbial Ginny disappearing.
Francis was at home with the hosts by now and had become relaxed, unpriestly and jocund. He was recalling funny incidences of his childhood and describing his ordeal with the villagers adulation that prevented him from enjoying the normal childhood fun the rest of the youngsters had indulged in. Such feelings he had not encountered before and few generous rounds of Port also helped him to forget his role as the head of the Parish.
It must have been hour and half since the party had begun when he decided to relieve himself and headed for the family's toiletry as was directed by Ivan. When he moved in that direction, he heard the sound of water coming out of tap from one of the rooms lined up in the narrow corridor and he headed for it. Inadvertently he turned the door knob of wrong room and entered.
Pravin was standing there with no cloths on getting ready to go for a shower. He had arrived and as instructed by his mother, had entered the house from backdoor of the kitchen unseen by anyone. Francis froze in his track and their eyes met after his had travelled over the young, athletic body and charming face of the young man. The boy's action of grabbing a towel brought him to his senses and he muttered an apology and hastily retreated.
The whole episode had lasted but few minutes but its effect was devastating. In the washroom, Father Francis went to pieces. Sitting on the commode cover, he sunk his face in his folded palms and despair came over with the realization that he had not overcome that call of his body and the nature, however may it be unnatural. It was made unacceptable to the Holy Roman Church which was his world, dominated by the spiritual massages, the doctrines of sins, effects of sins and redemption along with the whole repertoire of duties and responsibilities of a Roman Catholic Priest or for that matter any faithful person.
All the teaching laid out neatly in the Job's Apologia and the Ecclesiastes he had read and repeated thousand times had fallen asunder in front of that overwhelming and demonic compulsion; nay it cannot be demonic-
"He who blew his own breath in Adam; how could he be wrong in making me the way I am?"
He was battling with himself and minutes were turning into anxious moments outside the door where both, Ivan and Sushila were pondering over the question whether to knock on the door or not? The Padre had vanished in their bathroom and only sound they had heard from outside was a faint sobbing.
"You shouldn't't have fed him so much of Port, I think he is missing his family in Goa". Sushila was reproaching her husband and hearing that, Father Francis came around and said,
" I am coming out in a minute."
He straightened himself, splashed water on his face and came out with that well practiced, benign face of the representative of the Savior on the planet.
Instinctively, DeCostas sensed that the man sitting at the dining table was not the same Priestly figure that had blessed their home that evening. After that, everything went smoothly but in a subdued manner. Pravin's presence at the dinner table made no difference in the ambiance that was more serious and courtesy laden and appropriate for a feast welcoming the Monsignor and not a fellow Goan. It ended as supposed to end-With movement of hand upheld and the Redeemer's cross symbolized in the air with the blessings murmured.
| Author Notes | The story and its setting is fictitious and not intended to disrespect or hurt anyone's religion or moral values and sensitivity. It is dealing mainly with the diversity of human needs within the context of physical and mental endowments we received from our creator. It is not written in support for LGBT nor any opposition to those who disapprove of it. |
By Niyuta
Suddenly Francis shut the volume, placed it on the desk and started to walk backwards from it as if he was trying to move away from a Cobra ready to strike. He uttered under his breath, as if he was talking to his soul; that line from the holy book,
"For whom, then do I work so hard and grudge myself pleasures?"
Retreating thus, his rosary and the heavy Crucifix hanging at the end, banged on the chair making a metallic sound like the ringing of bells hanging in the Hindu Temples he used to pass by in his native home in Goa. His robe was half open and clothing underneath also was unbuttoned as if he had planned undressing to retire for the night. Then something snapped in his mind and in a sudden frenzy he pulled all the habiliments of a Roman Catholic Priest and flung them on the bed. He pulled the last piece and was left with his trousers and a loose tank top. Then he opened the door of his little cottage behind the church, stepped out in the night and rapidly headed straight into the old cemetery on the hill behind the parsonage. He walked through the neatly arranged graves and followed the foot path leaving behind the cobblestone, narrow path and soon reached at the edge of cemetery and stepped out of the Church boundary. Soon he was on a side road that once connected to the Zuni Tribal Village. Apparently, he must have used that path many times because in that pitched dark night he navigated without knocking down any lose tombstones. In the dark he was walking rapidly towards nowhere; just going and going somewhere, as if following his inner compass.
The summer night was warm and moon was barely peeping up from over the Mesa surrounding the valley giving it an appearance of a vast medieval castle of a Scottish king. He knew his way around and soon reached the highway leading north towards Utah Boarder. He was not looking at anything nor his mind filled with any thoughts. In that vast and empty landscape he would have looked like a walking dead from the Indian Wars. It was past midnight and nothing was moving except the tumbleweeds running across with the cross wind and every now and then a coyote came from the brush to check him out and vanished in the sage bushes clinging onto the dry surface of that volcanic, read-indigo- dusty landscape. A mountain lion called out for a mate, somewhere up in the crevices but he had not heard any sound at all; everything was eerily silent to his agonizing mind.
Francis must have walked for several hours and from that elevation, the lights from the solitary tent casino below were looking like a section of Milky Way planted on the earth. Apparently the road had gently taken him to the higher grounds. At last he paused to take a breather. In spite of his excellent health and that youthful athletic body, he was sensing the rareness of the Oxygen in the air at the higher altitude of 5,000 ft. He stood there on the side of the highway where road took a sharp turns inward like a coiling Rattlesnake. He was still deeply lost in the numbness of his mind and not a single thought had penetrated the fog that had enveloped his soul completely.
Like a teenager who gets punished harshly and is desperate to get away from that tyrant dad so badly that he, or she for that matter, throws away all cautions to wind; he was running away from his home- the Mother Church of twenty plus years. He had bolted out of the Catholic World, the only one he had ever known ever since he began understanding his surroundings.
The temperature was falling gradually. It was end of August and variations in temperatures of the day and night were shifting toward milder days and colder nights until the approach of dawn and then it lingered lot closer to freezing, capable of causing hypothermia to anyone wearing nothing but a lose tank top to cover the torso and nothing to wrap the head. He was in that state at that moment. Finally he sat down slowly on flat bedrock and without his knowledge, sunk in a stupor like unconsciousness.
As he lay there with his hand folded under his head for a cushion, suddenly his numbed mind came alive like the fog lifting from the waterfront and moored boats become monsters with their wrapped up sails, gently coming towards the marina to grab the first living thing within its reach. With his eyes wide open, he began to hallucinate.
There were sounds and words coming from somewhere he couldn't't tell but they were very unfamiliar words and phrases he had forgotten. In the beginning, they sounded like gibberish but very soon became distinctly clear. Much of the conversation was going on in his own hometown tongues; 'Kokani,' mixed with 'Marathi' both languages spoken in the village and the surrounding areas in Goa, India. That's where he was born in early fifties. Soon he was linked with the source of that conversation and began to understand every word the folks present in that room were speaking:
" Miriam che chedwo pale"( Look Miriam's son) someone spoke in Konkani dialogue .
"Deva che roop assa; Yesu aailo to" ( God's incarnation; he is Baby Jesus arrived) another person was speaking.
That was the moment of his arriving in this world. Tens of thousands of miles away, lying on the side of that infrequently used road in New Mexico, he was watching his life passing in front of him. Was that a birth of a divine child?
This is the Story of Father Francis Christo Mendez.
| Author Notes | To understand the birth scene, one has to understand the fabric of Indian society, where religions intermingle when needed and Hindu or Muslims and Christians will go to any divinity to worship for a special favors. For them, God is a God, no matter what form shape or concept He/She appears as long as their own well being is not threatened, they will accept a miracle. |
By Niyuta
There was no novelty in Mariam Mendez's pregnancy and it was; sort of a biannual event expected by the village. It happened every time Frank Mendez came home from overseas trip- he was a cook on a vessel owned by a Panamanian Shipping company that operated between Muscat in the gulf and South Africa. He came on a long home leave every two years and she got pregnant and delivered after he was gone. There was nothing new about it and that made a small ripple in the gossiping circles. She already had one daughter named Alice and two boys; Pascal and Emanuel, before she got pregnant with Francis. The only difference this time was that the father, Frankie Mendez, for the first time was in Goa for the delivery as he was let go by the new owners, who were Muslims, and did not want any pork cooking cook on board. They paid him a one year's salary as parting gift and now he was thinking to settle for a permanent shore job in is ancestral village near Domblim. With some cash in his pocket he did not miss the life on a Costal Vessel; so he thought when he arrived.
As usual; Mariam and kids were happy at first but then within few weeks the troubles started to surfaced slowly. He, being a lifelong sailor with an unbridle freedom to do anything, and no one to question his behavior on board or actions at anchorage, he started to feel married life on a continuous basis, oppressive and the daily chores unbearable. He resented the constant noise coming at him in many forms and shapes; some with hands extended for loans and others for probing his past life at sea as if he was the Sindbad the Sailor of the Arabian Nights. "I would rather be on a ship talking to the stoves and the chickens and pigs kept on board," he would mutter to himself. His wife pestered him to take her to bazar for baby stuff or to dress in a suit for church and then the visits from Father De Mello; and that got on his nerves:
"I haven't seen you at the Sunday Mass, "or " I am open for your confession this evening."
He was admonished and to top it all; his wife would push him to go to a doctor to check himself out; just in case he had visited someone out of the man's needs". That would then lead into a real vexing episode because Mariam wasn't always discreet about it and would say so in front of the Padre. In such occasions Frankie would rush out and not return home for a day or two; taking refuse in the steamers at the anchorage visiting from the African ports he knew well.
In the bed, it was Mariam who always wanted him to fulfill his conjugal duties every night as soon as she was free from the monthly sitting out days. He was not comfortable with her. She was very classical beauty to him and there was an awe-filled admiration of her in his heart. He always felt like he had married up because Mariam had passed 9th grade and he had bolted out of third grade to work odd jobs. Mendez family were wealthy landowners of bye gone era where as Mariam's family was relatively middle class educated folks who couldn't come up with the dowry for her to get married in their own proper class, so marrying a semiliterate Mendez was not as shabby as it sounded then.
The fact that she could read and write Portuguese and English was enough for Frankie to develop that inferiority, a less educated person feels in spite of owning real estate and commercial crop producing land.
To prove his worth or just to get out of town, he had taken up a job as a cook on a feeder vessel that operated between ports and big ocean liners not wanting to get into the harbor channels and would unload cargo at the anchorage in high seas. Rather than working at his own coconut, mango, and cashew farms and the rice fields, he left everything for his wife to handle and skipped town, following his drinking buddy Jokim; another drop out friend already working as a Khalasi (deck hand) on the M.V. Gomantak. Tactfully, a word in the village was spread that he was a Merchant Marine on the Chowgule Shipping corporation's Steam Ship playing between the port of Marma-Goa and Europe; a far cry from the truth. At home, Miriam took over the management of Wadi as the farming estate was called and used her education to set it in a proper, financially solid, self-propelling enterprise mold. He really didn't need a job at all; he could have taken care of children but he was not suitable for that job either.
In their marriage only favorable thing for him was his beautiful, suave wife adored his handsome face and showed him off. He was a good looking devil with a silky black hair, light skin with a sailor's tan, above average height of five eleven, smiling face with a delicate nose and all accompanied by that certain charms and mannerism; all copied from the heroes of western movies' gun-slinging heroes. In spite of his lack of schooling he was a good catch for Mariam when she got married to him at the age of eighteen. However, the perfect couple image was a window dressing. In reality, Frankie the sailorman had difficulties in managing the affairs of Amore with his wife. It was not like the women he spent time with in the distant ports. There was some sort of a wall of sanctity that stood between them when they were in bed.
Frankie just couldn't think of doing to Miriam all those tricks of amour which would make the other women go wild in the bed. With her it was like that term he had heard before from the other sailors-Wham --bang- Thank you Ma'am affair which left her very much unfulfilled but then, luckily for him, there was that sure shot pregnancy and the end of her passion filled longings of the wicked soul of that daughter of eve. After that he expected a relaxed life at home- the off the boat experience of being an householder.
For Mariam, love making was the mandatory, 'la Joie d'vie.' Frankie had no clues about how to join her in that mood of amore, rise to the occasion and show his passion for her. How could he? He was intimidated by the heat of the moment; he knew sexual copulation techniques but was a dodo bird, when it came to romance. On the other hand, she was a radiant and healthy young woman with ferocious appetite for a romantic sex and always had harbored those romantic desires from the time she came to age. However they never crossed the threshold of entertaining those romantic thoughts of floating in the ball rooms and then lovemaking with one of the Portuguese men with blue eyes and strong muscular bodies. After marriage, she expected Frankie to fulfill them. In the virgin days all those wicked thoughts were cured by the confession and performing the umpteen numbers of Hail Maries which Father De Mello routinely prescribed.
"It is not exactly forbidden, but when you are a married woman, it is, so look at your husband and be fruitful and multiply."
Old padre had advised her the first time she let him on her secret wickedness. After their marriage; she did follow the advice by having a child every two years and with each pregnancy she forgot her fantasies and moved towards the pragmatic and practical life of a Wadi owner. Childbirths ended after Frankie was gone and she remarried to a Portuguese senior official, lot older than her. Getting pregnant for conceiving Francis was the last time Frankie and Miriam together.
Soon she began to resent his presence in her and children's routine and their well-choreographed matriarchal life. They started to argue at first when Frankie showed up after saying good byes to his lucky sailor friends still sailing on the blue yonder. When that became a routine nightly business, it became obvious that he was a threat to the tranquility of the household, the surroundings, to the health of a pregnant mother and her brood. In all their existence as a family, Frank Mendez, the father and his children knew each other by reference only. He did not have those special feelings for them which come by the tactile interactions between a newborn and his or her parents when held close to heart and coo chi cooed as infants. He found out about the birth only when his vessel and the forwarded mail made connections in some port and that used to occur as late as three months to a year and they were told about his paternity position whenever he arrived home.
This was mainly his fault. Busy with getting ready to head for the town, he would just not go to the agent's office right on the jetty where the vessel was berthed at the mooring, to see if there was any mail. Often they would sail out with his letters still languishing in the pigeon hole for few months and then the mail would get forwarded to the vessel's next port of call and sit that office for a while and eventually someone else would collect that correspondence, and promptly sent to his vessel, along with the official ship mail and it was dropped his in front of him. No wonder by the time he got the news of addition to his household, the child would be crawling on the Mariam's home as it came to be known with the passage of time and by the absence of a sole owner of their house; Mr. Frank Jokim Mendez, the Marine. Whenever he was home, his children feared him more than they liked him. His efforts to link with them were awkward and then he lacked the knowledge of their idiosyncrasies to hold a meaningful conversation beyond inquiring about their daily humdrum routines and friends etc.
He was getting lonely amidst the sea of people and no one understood this. Miriam's hands were full and all day would go quickly dealing with the affairs of her Wadi. He, if at all was home, would sit squatting on the floor without saying much but watching his beautiful, smart wife dealing with contractors and labors with profound admiration and loathing for his own existence. Merchants and vendors would come in and curtsy her without paying attention to him as if he was a pile of rags or a sack of coconut kept there waiting for a pick up. It didn't bother him and she stopped even glancing at him while conducting her business as she used to do in the beginning to see if he was paying attention to what was going on. He would sometimes just get up and leave and head for the waterfront or the beach and then return with the smell of coconut toddy on his breath. No one could tell if Frankie was depressed or just bored because he would show no emotions on his face save that flashy smile irrespective of the prevailing ambiance of the situation.
This time he was at home for what looked like a long, long spell and that was increasing the stress level all around. Finally, a solution was sought and with the intervention of Father De Mello, a chafe's job in one of the Mumbai's emerging five star hotels was found for him and the myth of being a Merchant Marine got replaced with a new one that he was called up by a Canadian Shipping Company. It really did not matter to anyone in the town what happened to him but She took no chance for gossips and nasty rumors about her dealing with men were reaching her. In her own right, she was a wealthy, beautiful young woman worthy of envy and even jealousy.
He was gone merrily as he had many acquaintances from the old shipping business shacked up in the dingy rooms of Collabra fishing village's back alleys. The life in close quarters with men of the proverbial, 'similar feathers', was much more suitable and attractive to a sailorman like him, than the ancestral Wadi with the banana plants and coconut trees, with the constant traffic of folks with whom he did not, or could not much relate to. The early life experience it seems shapes a person's personality and by the time he or she reaches past their thirties, they are set in their ways. Only the most determined and strong individuals make changes in their persona to achieve something new; a different type of adventure that challenges them. Not every Master who commanded a ship to cross the world's oceans every day of their lives, has opted for a voyage to any unknown and uncharted seas. With his low IQ, Frankie was not expected to be another Columbus by anyone including himself. He was a 'happy- go- lucky', sort of bloke hanging somewhere between being a God Fearing when he was in troubled waters and an Atheist when he was having fun and did not need anyone else.
The decade of fifties had begun and there was a conflict arising due to the status of Goa as a Portuguese colony being looked upon by the Hindu and some Catholics as a blot on Independent India's face. There were troubles on the borders which historically was left porous by the Colonial Masters and after Independence, by the early Indian administration. When Francis was born; his father was in Mumbai but couldn't come home for the legitimate reason of not getting opportunity to return to work or just indifference on his part and no one really cared or missed him and then what had happened in the Mariam's Wadi in the Village near Dambolim, was of an affair of serious as well as of extra ordinary nature. involving the God with whom Frankie had no dispute or love. Under the circumstances, no one informed the father of this divine newborn.
For this event, the ever fertile wife of Frankie was chosen by the Almighty to conceive a Son for the world of slave like blind devotees, willing to pray to any and every type of divinity promoted by the Catholic, Muslim or any other sponsoring or non sponsoring faith; as long as the one that is believed in by anyone, had the propensity and capabilities to bring prosperity, health and a progeny to the human race. Goa, India was that place and Francis' birth was the auspicious event. In a blissful ignorance Frankie's life was sailing on the even keel and no one was rocking his boat nor he had to rush to any specific place, save to an opportunity to boldly go where no one would know his name and that's what happened to him; he simply vanished from the face of this planet and none were disturbed by that event.
| Author Notes | The unfolding story has taken a bit cynical tone towards blind faith and the fundamental pervading ignorance upon which the faith rests. Not intended to hurt any sentiments of faith of any person. |
By Niyuta
Mariam had delivered all her children right in her bedroom. The midwife who was in attendance this time was the same present in the deliveries of all her other children. She was so used to her body's excellent record of expelling the body mass she had supported for the nine months that at the time of delivery, that brazen midwife would sit outside gossiping and rolling tobacco for a smoke and wait until the baby's head became visible to the watching apprentice. After frantic calls, then she would reluctantly step in for the moment of birth. In her last delivery of Emanuel, she had to snuff off her lighted cheroot and rush in when she heard the baby's cry to cut the cord. Marian was then so upset that she nearly kicked her for good but then old woman was a good Catholic and was adequately admonished by the Father De Mello about her carelessness.
Francis' birth was indeed a unique affair. Like his older siblings he arrived smoothly and to the surprise of everyone present, he did not utter a single cry but just chuckled a few times to indicate he was there; alive and well. The apprentice midwife by name, 'Caroline', swore that he actually was smiling and also had winked at her. As a newborn baby, he was very clean, alert and appeared to be listening and then the main miracle was revealed. Here is the account of what happened as was told hundreds of time by all present in the room, and then also repeated by others who knew the folks who were really or otherwise, present in the birthing bedroom or knew their close friends and relatives, who knew the first reporters:
While washing him, the Aaya (maid) noticed that on the back, baby-hair formed a facsimile that to her appeared to be that of Jesus with his arms stretched out as one sees in the paintings of resurrected Lord. When she announced that discover, the others also claimed that they noticed his unique features such as, 'the pale blue eyes (which actually he had inherited from his Portuguese great grandfather), his mother's velvety smooth and fair skin, delicate nose and calm and smiling face'. His forehead was proportionately broad, face square, and mouth ruby read; in short, he had all the signs of divinity imagined by men and women alike.
It didn't take much to spread the news of divine baby born in the Mendez House as the old cottage became a House of Divinity and Mariam became the Mout Mauli (Mout for distorted word mountain and Mauli means Mother in local language) the Mount Mary of Bandra; a suburb of Mumbai where Catholic Church is located and where people of all faith go for miracle cures the Virgin Mary bestows for their ailments.
People came to the 'Miriam's House from far and near, Many brought gifts for the baby and mother just like the Three Kings of Christmas and the Hindu worshipers, who always believed in incarnation of God amidst the mankind and who were at home with baby Krishna, came to see the baby Jesus with equal fervors and piety. To them that was the next incarnation of Vishnu after Buddha and Jesus. They began the traditional Hindu worshiping with oil lamps and singing mantras, washed and touch his feet and treated the water as 'Holly Water' to be taken home for sprinkling to ward off evil spirits etcetera, etcetera and left money as offering which was not rejected by the local Church authority as the sum of money for the Church kept on increasing and wasn't a shabby thing to do to accept it as a 'Lord's will' for the awakening piety in the hearts of heathens; but after all the Catholic Divinity too had its own; 'Le Bon Infant' with the Madonna in all the churches. There was lots of goodwill and loving atmosphere to make it a festival of Brazilian holiday.
Very soon, the whole scenario became comical opera of divine comedy style. When word reached the main Church in Panaji, the Capital City; it was transmitted to higher ups and a senior clergy was sent to investigate. Upon his arrival, he was shocked beyond belief to see how much intermingling and cross pollination of myths, concepts and practices had happened between the native cultures and the Roman faith. Only thing missing was a band from the Panaji Beach of Goa; the 'Hare Krishna Consciousness Movement's devotees, dancing in their unique patterns in front.
He immediately nipped the whole thing in the bud; lest it makes Jesus one of the pantheons of Hindu Celestial World and the Holly Church would lose the monopolistic advantage of saving the souls. He, at once declared the whole affair as utter nonsense, and Hindu Practices, the abomination prohibited by the Lord himself. The hairy outline of the image itself had lost its original distinct shape as the baby's body hair follicles had fallen off and very faint outline was all that was left. In spite of that, the carnival like atmosphere lasted almost a month. Those who had seen the original; never stopped believing in the child's blessed birth; ignoring the Church's denouncing the whole affair, they, in their simple hearts wanted to believe- if not the actual return of the Lord then the sure sign of something extraordinary present in form a boy. Well time passed quickly and Francis turned ten. His father had disappeared without casting one glance at the newborn son. Speculations were that, perhaps he had landed in the West Indies or Canada; no one knew for sure nor anyone bothered to go looking for him. Just before the termination of Goa's colonial status, the Church annulled his marriage to Miriam and she remarried a Portuguese official associated with the Holly Pontiff in the Vatican.
From the very beginning Francis was showing unique qualities. As a baby he never cried; not even for milk or getting cleaned. He simply made chuckling and cooing noises. He was a calm and happy child with engaging smile and laughing eyes. Every person was amazed by his delightful disposition. During his baptism, unlike other babies he did not wail but kick the holy water and splashed it on the father De Mello's frock. He was at once identified as a child with destiny with the holy church; a Cardinal in making or even the Pontiff who knows? They all would prophesied and envision his future appearance.
With new European Step Dad and the access to governmental as well as other important people of Colonial Goa; young Francis was growing with the idea that his destiny was charted by the divine angel and that he was set to be on a road in the service of the Lord leading to the priesthood. By the time he turned seventeen he had memorized the Bible and all other associated Catholic Ritual. He was everywhere. In every pageant and Christmas Play, the role of Baby Christ automatically went to him during first year.
On the daily, routine life, he was not allowed to play with ordinary mortal children and his time was mostly spent with adults and clergymen. It appeared as if he was cut out for that role. He never showed a sign of dislike or rebellious attitude nor had overwhelming desires for excessive pleasures. He was growing up a very contemplating and serious young man always ready to assist and provide comforts to others. He looked so fabulous in the garb of altar boy that he was assigned to that roll whenever any important visiting dignitaries from the church came in and conducted the Mass. It never occurred to anyone that a child in him was systematically being smothered by the ambitious but well-wishing adults.
By the time he turned twelve, he had achieved excellence in every field he undertook to study or participated in. His physique itself was awe striking. Calm and peaceful in visage, his presence was acknowledged by street vendors, the coolly and all higher-ups in the society. He was in fact a walking image of Michelangelo's Apollo, combined with the feminine gracefulness of Rachel. Had he been any ordinary child; he surely would have been bullied by the boys as a 'sissy' for lack of aggressiveness. However, he was very athletic sportsman and a champion of Greco-Roman Style wrestling.
There was no doubt that he was a heartthrob of many maidens of his age group but he was not interested in them. In the constant indoctrination about the cardinal and the original Sin committed by the first woman, 'Eve' mentioned around him and the lack of direct interactions with the females including his own sister, he had become, 'un home, femme-phobic' not by choice but by orientation to his sex preferences. Simply putting, he enjoyed company of men of his type, the soft spoken and suave. Psychologically he was being prepared for the celibate life of a priest and only women who ever caressed him were his close relatives and the nuns in the convent where he had begun his early education. By the time he reached puberty, he had been put through a psychological castration by those who had chosen a profession for him and that was to find glory in the service of the Lord. He had known no other path, but can such indoctrination alter nature? Man is created like all other animals, plants and insect to propagate via sexual activities and to perform that voluntarily, man has been given the sexuality and the pleasures. How can that hormone driven process be switched off by simple indoctrination?
Francis began the sexual awareness by the time he turned twelve and nightly erections became a routine event which he understood as natural but did not quite know for what purpose. The desires for opposite sex begin to rise in human mind around that age naturally, but he was not experiencing such thing as a simple wish to be with a female anywhere, leave aside in his bed. In fact he never even paid attention to it and assumed that his erections were not a biological activity but was governed by the principles of hydraulics which he had learned in his Physics class.
Unconsciously, somewhere in the back of his mind he had developed storage of many feelings, sensations and experiences which he alone had known to be there and which he had suppressed effortlessly. The awareness of tingling sensations around his thighs during the practice for the wrestling match came to him as he was transitioning from adolescence to teenage. The tactile touch of his opponents with certain attractiveness of their physique had made him to hold them tight against his own body even when Father Coyle, who was the coach, had whistled two or three times to indicate the wrestling was over. Eventually it became obvious and the other wrestlers began to feel uncomfortable with him. After few episodes , he quickly learned to suppress that feeling due to its embarrassing absurdity and therefore, it did not grow into a noticeable and concern causing behavior. Never the less the pleasure sensation got locked up in that vault deep inside his psyche and he had no opportunity to revisit it nor anyone else had any inkling of its existence.
The superstition surrounding his birth, the aura and hellos surrounding his personality and his closeness within the Church's inner circles had swallowed the real him; just like Jonah, but not for three days and night in the belly of a whale, but for the life in the belly of a monster called guilt.
"I am not normal and all my unique calling to the services of our Lord is a hoax."
Thoughts like this started to swirl around in his head and he started searching for answers in the New Testament and not finding any, he went through the Pentateuch and came empty handed. The Ecclesiastes confused him by the contradictions and a lack of precise directions. He was miserable inside but kept his faith in the Lord God Almighty and smiled as usual. The time was moving forward at its predetermined rate and he was progressing towards an abyss of confusion about life and the morality laws which came from Moses and codified to this day.
There was no one he could go to and discuss the issues without feeling the weight of shame one feels when one discovers a stray thought about newly discovered method of using own hand touch to get the relief of that sexual tension- an act, that would be condemn by the authority as wicked behavior; something similar to entertaining an attraction to a close relative that grabs one's mind in a tight grip, after seeing that person in a naked state, and in spite of having the knowledge of its impropriety, one wanting to experience that again.
His struggle to find himself had begun by the growth of his body but who could explain that to him or how could he discover himself in absence of any reliable source like the medical books or a frank discussion on the human sexuality. Then it happened very quickly with a visit from an official bringing the message from His Holiness the Pontiff from Vatican. He learnt a lot in one night about himself and the Holly Church's administration of the Lord's kingdom on earth.
| Author Notes | This chapter was accidentally omitted while making (inserting in) of the book. The story is not written to promote any behavior, cause or to insult religious sentiments of any one. It is an honest representations of human diversity exists and why maker made it that way and how a person with a different sexual orientation can find worshiping and loving as much ardently fulfilling as the others devoted individuals. |
By Niyuta
Wayra Richards punched the card at the door of the Casino and stepped outside in the parking lot to go home. He lived farther north on the New Mexico Route 525 going towards Bloomfield and beyond. He looked at his wristwatch and noted the time piece showing few minutes to three o'clock in the morning.
The moonless night was dark and beyond the parkinglot lights, rest of the world was still engulfed in the ink like darkness and to add to that, the occasional sand blowing with the wind was making that scene foggy and more sinister than it actually was. The silhouettes of the surrounding indigo, mixed with brownish and Mesa structures were appearing like the protective citadel's ramparts. For a newcomer, it would have made a scary experience to be out driving in that eerily silent valley but for Wayra, it was nothing extraordinary; he was completely at ease with the place. This was his ancestral land that many Native American tribes worship as a sacred landmass where their ancestors' sprits were present to guide them to the spiritual world beyond.
He was a Quechua and then there were Shawnee, Mapuche, Zia and more tribes nestled in the bosom of the San Juan valley. He could drive home in the truck with his eyes closed as if it was not a mechanized vehicle but a real mountain Indian pony that knew the seventy five miles stretch of the road all the way home. The bumps on the fenders, the damaged wheels and twisted bumper of his truck was the proof of his driving half asleep and hitting the inanimate objects off and on the road. However, he had made it home safely just about every time he came from his graveyard shift at the Casino. He had not damaged anyone else's vehicle or made a road kill, mainly because there was just him driving on and off the road at that time and the vermin like the Mexican prairie dogs were too smart not to venture out at that hour to be a meal for the nocturnal hunters.
Perhaps by habit, he yawned loudly and a frightened Hare scurried off. Wayra was amused by that, laughed unnecessarily,jumped in the pickup and drove out of the parking lot. The old vehicle climbed up that stiff hill with the engine laboring to pull it towards the road heading north. The right headlight of his truck was not doing much service to the driver. Rather than illuminating the road in front with that halogen bulb's broad 'V' shaped beam,it was flooding the right shoulder and boulders and bushes beyond the edge of the white line markings. He never felt a necessity to straighten the headlamp holding that light, as no one else ever got in the driver's seat to drive it and he knew the road to Bloomfield like back of his hand as they say.
Dozing off and on he must have made fifty or so miles and with the last sharp turn, which always made him alert by instinct, he reached the top of that hill. He had turned the steering wheel hard towards left to complete that clover-leaf turn and also to avoid scraping the right fender on the flat table rock which he had done few times in the past. In spite of his sleep filled eyes, he saw something which the crooked light's beam had made distinctly visible just long enough, to make his brain wake up fully and synthesize the incoming optical input.
" there is a man's leg your truck missed by just inches" his cerebral cortex reported.
He jammed the brakes,stopped the truck and waited for few minutes to let his intellect and brain come together to synthesize the fresh input from his optical nerve, and also to arrive at a conclusion that there was a human body lying on the rock in a weird and twisted manner. Its legs were sort of resting on the ground but the torso was flat on the back, as if it was a chair without the back support.
"What the hell is that?" He asked himself.
"Could't be any undocumented man died without water? There are enough places to get food and water in this stretch of the road." He was thinking and sorting the possibilities.
Wayra was completely alert now and his mind was trying to reach to a sensible conclusion-
"investigate or keep on going and let the Sheriff find him in few hours was the option presented to him."
He wasn't afraid of dead ones; had seen them plenty in the Viet Nam when he was drafted right after the high school graduation in Bloomfield. But then, his curiosity got better off him and he decided to check it out. He drove in reveres until the truck came on the top of the hill, passed the flat rock and then stopped at a spot where the truck's search light like headlamp fell on the Father Francis' face and torso. He cut the engine, stepped out and stood there looking at the object of his curiosity for a moment; thinking rapidly at the same time.
" Looks like a Mexican or a Navaho." He muttered under his breath.
"Should I touch or not touch? If a Navaho; they might feel offended if I disturb the dead. If Mexican, it won't matter."
He was still pondering on the right action to take but then suddenly he heard a faint sound coming from the direction of that body and that settled the issue instantly. Wayra crossed the road and went on the side of lying man. He thought he heard the man speaking to someone in a strange tongue. Wayra Richard reached very closed to man's and then it ceased muttering and remained motionless again. He pulled a small twig with sage leaves on it and held it near the man's nostrils. The leaves barely moved but they gave the proof of spirit still being within its flesh and bones confinement. With that a new set of decision making need rose in his mind.
"Should I take him back to Casino or forward to Bloomfield?" A question rose and a prompt answer was needed. That called for an analysis of the situation and he began pondering:
"What if he is from another tribe and they want to handle his body in their sacred ways, just in case he died in my truck?"
Another problematic thought was about to pop up in his mind but he suppressed that and came to a swift conclusion:
"Well. Let me get some advice from someone lot more experienced in these matters."
With that, he reached to a decision and got his cell phone out. He went through the 'Contact' list and stopped at few names and then moved out to the next, shaking his head indicating unsuitability. Finally he stopped at the letter 'T and found, 'Tenskwatawa'- (means "Open door" in Shawnee language).That Name sounded appropriate as he knew they were open twenty four hours and seven days.
He called the number and after several rings a sleepy voice came on; "Yes? What do you want?"
"I am Wayra Richards- Quechua Indian; have a brother here on the road to Bloomfield about fifty miles south; he may be Navaho or something."
"What is the question?" The impatient man on the other side asked to make the conversation more precise and meaningful.
" He is unconscious or something, and- and- may not live, and, really, I...don't, really don't know if I should touch him; you know how it is about the .....".
"That means he is alive now; so what is this question about touching? Just
put him in your truck and bring him over here and Antiman ('Candor of the Sun'- in Mapuche tongue.) Will see him when he gets here."
The other man hung up with that and gave no opportunity for him to think anything more about the option.
Wayra wanted more detailed instructions; something like the barking orders Sergeant Matt gave to his platoon when he wanted to get something done. Sergeant Matt trusted no one under his command when it came to getting things done:
"Do exactly as I tell you'll, one last time," and then he would repeat the instructions hundred times with the 'one last time' suffix trailing the last syllable of the each last instruction.
That mechanical process of doing things without wasting your own brain power or disturbing mind on deciding how, when and what to do, had been engraved in the minds of everyone in that Infantry platoon who did not come home in the body bags or were not left behind in the Nam. Now, in the civilian life, he seldom had to do anything at the Casino or for that matter at home,that demanded any complex decision making and life was about as smooth as it gets without the barking of commands from Sgt. Matt and the bullets hissing by one's head. Difficulty like this situation he was having on hand, came up rarely in that ex-soldier's daily life.
Wayra bent over the lifeless body and remembering the wounded evacuation drill, flipped the body on his back and dragged it to his truck. The movement sort of brought some life in the man's leg muscles and somehow, he managed to get the load off on the passenger side but the man was not holding himself upright and was falling onto the driver's seat. Finally he climbed back of the truck, pulled a bundle of sisal rope and tied the body to seat, good enough so it would stay on the passenger side and the head resting on the corner of door window. By the time he completed the task,he had lost good half an hour.
"Damn, Maureen is going to get pissed off again if I don't reach home in time," he said to the companion who did not answer.
" Don't hang around anywhere; I get late to work if you don't show up in time." He imitated her in his mind, as he was remembering her instructions.
"What fucking reason I stopped to look at you I will never know?" He spoke to that unconscious passenger.
By the time he pulled off the road leading to the gas fields, the sun was already pushing the darkness out in the east and he barely missed Sheriff's cruiser coming south from Bloomfield. As he pulled into the covered driveway of that drab and windowless brick and mortar structure of the Tenskwatawa building, two men came out with a stretcher immediately, as if they were waiting for a patient to arrive. He got out the truck and came around to see if he could assist them.
One of the stretcher bearers opened the passenger side door and Father Francis' body tilted out of the truck because it was not secured properly.
"What the hell; you can't even hogtie a calf;" the man remarked and while grabbing the right arm and shoulder. Together they took him out without use of the stretcher. As they climbed up few steps and entered the veranda, two more men in white gown came forward and joined them. Together they managed to take the sick man to a bed. Meanwhile Wayra had back tracked and was about to back up his truck out of the drive way and one of the orderly came out and told him to wait.
"Reverend Antiman wants to talk to you and you need to sign papers also." The man informed him.
"I am running late; I got to go. Tell him I will stop by this evening." He responded and quickly backed out of the drive way, turned around and drove off, leaving behind a cloud of indigo dust.
| Author Notes | The entire description of this scene is imaginary and should not be taken as Native American Tribes' customs. |
By Niyuta
It must have been past noon hours when Francis woke up from a long and restful stupor. The mild sedative must have helped him to overcome the agonies of the last night. His mind was at peace and he was slowly awakening to a distant sound of chanting that was penetrating the otherwise all-pervading silence of that large room. With eyes open he remained motionless for quite some time, as if his lost soul was finding a way to connect with his mind and brain. As the numbness of his mind began to wear off; he began to hear the chanting clearly and that brought him out of that stage of total void. His right arm ached little bit from the Venipuncture and that made him aware of his body. He raised his head from the pillow and slowly brought himself in the upright position. In the dimness of that room he couldn't see anything clearly but thought there was someone in the far end of the room, near the sources of chanting. He wanted to call out that person but then he stopped indecisively. Instead, he threw the blanket off his feet, swung his feet around the hospital bed and stood up. A strong arm from his behind steadied him and said,
"Take it easy Father Francis; you have been through a lot."
Francis was surprised. It was the voice of deacon, Samuel Santiago from his church. He recognized the voice and instantly turned around to face him.
"When did you come?" He asked Samuel.
"This morning; as soon as we received the word from Sheriff's office that you were here and I came instantly."
Francis sensed a reproach in the deacon's voice and spoke in a subdued voice:
"You didn't have to; I was not kidnapped; I left on my own accord."
"That is the reason Archdiocese of Albuquerque sent me post haste and has asked me to stay with you until someone comes to speak with you." Informed the emissary and the guard from the Diocese.
" I need to sort out my issues all by myself and wish to discuss or receive no indoctrination from anyone from the Holy Church; at least not now; I will send the word when I am ready. I do appreciate the concern and also aware of the fact that I caused lots of troubles for all of you; my apologies for that." Francis spoke in a determined voice without giving any opportunity for the deacon to interject or interrupt his speech.
" As you wish; but is this a wise course of action Father? You know mother Church has been nurturing, protecting and guiding us in this sinful world of mortals to whom, we the ordained ones must take to The Almighty God. You have unblemished record of selfless services and this posting in the New Mexico is just a stopping place before you are placed into the services of His Holiness. The Pontiff himself has asked for your appointment in the Vatican. Why then this hasty withdrawal? Why must you throw all that you have achieved since you were a child? Shake off that influence of Lucifer and come with me. This is no place to recover from the abomination of one's body and mind; is it? In fact, you are living in this place; a den of devil worshipers...."
The messenger would have continued his haranguing talks but Francis stopped him in his tracks by sharply admonishing him:
" Stop at once denigrating this establishment and its people about whom you know next to nothing. I want to hear nothing more from you and now that you have vilified this place, I want you to leave the premise at once. I will inform the Church my final and irrevocable decision as soon as I am ready."
Seeing his resolute,and angry visage and feeling the passion of his words, the Deacon withdrew and silently walked out of the room. As he left, an elderly man walked in from the side door. The chanting had stopped and someone had opened the blinds covering the widows and room was flooded with the midday brightness of the New Mexican fall season. The old man came forward towards Francis with right hand held up in a 'Peace To You' gesture. Automatically, Francis followed the suite. They walked outside the long room with several empty beds like a field hospital of a military outfit.
When they came out, two men and a woman came forward and followed them to the patio where tables and chairs were neatly arranged for the afternoon tea and snacks. As they sat down, the woman came forward and served them some venison sandwiches and herbal tea.
Francis ate hungrily and took sip of that brew which he had drunk in the Amazonian villages in the past. It gave him the vitality and vigor he always had before the crisis. It seems he had at last reached to a conclusion about what to do with the life he had been living as a Roman Catholic Priest- a fully ordained and recognized shepherd of his flock; an individual brick of an ornamented and lofty temple of the Lord where his representative on the earth lived and operated a moribund and hierarchal empire.
Francis always knew deep down in his heart that there was another purpose, other than the one he was told again and again, since he was just a child of seven, what he was born for,to live for the service of the Lord, only via a well-organized and prescribed path laid out by the Vatican since the time the first Roman Emperor accepted Christ as his and of the citizens of the empire, the redeemer and a savior. An unchallengeable doctrine that perhaps got challenged first by the Henry the VIII to take control of his own empire along with the carnal needs and later, by the Martin Luther's challenge based on the protest against the excessive control of the free human spirit by the Roman Catholicism.
For Francis it was the lifelong battle of conscience and the conflict of indoctrinate upbringing under the Holy Church, his own loyalty to the divinity and the ever free demands of his soul. The wrestling between realities of this earthly existence, and taking the flock through the proverbial pearly gates, has been a tormenting task for him for a long time. His own sexuality was not acceptable to church as a part of being human. It was indeed demonized and condemn to the repertoire of mental illnesses caused by the dark spirit which were curable by certain prescribed behavior modifying techniques and convoluted religious rituals. It was one thing to call a practice or behavior unacceptable but to condemn the individual as a sinner was a travesty of Jesus own directive, " Hate the sin...". To Francis, calling what was god given attribute a sin, itself was not a right thing to do.
After the early episode of sexual encounter in his youth, he had never indulged into any homosexual activity. In his mind he equated it with a heterosexual act and as a sworn celibate he remained committed to a sexless life. Never the less his awareness of his sexuality and arousing of passion troubled him. Nothing worked and then he came to accept it as part of his own being made by the same divine hands that made Adam and Eve.
During one of his visits to a used bookstore in Sao Paulo, Francis came across few books related to the recent findings of the original papyrus containing the Gnostic material found in a cave at Rass Hamadi in Egypt. Out of curiosity and perhaps prompted by his own rebellion against the RC indoctrination and restrictions on reading heretical Gnostic stuff, he purchased them and read them during his free time. The impact of Gnostic version of Jesus life was so profound on Francis that he started to re evaluate various aspects of gospels of Mark, John and Luke. He found in all three the humanistic nature of Jesus lacking. On the other hand Thomas, in comparison to any other writers of Gospel, presented the Son of God in a much more intimate relationship with his followers like Mary Magdalene and himself. Both Thomas and Mary were the constant companions of Him and confidant also, as indicated by the findings at Rass Hamadi. The detailed description of that dance after the Last Supper and before the capture, narrated by Thomas, where Lord stood in the middle and the apostles danced around him answering to his call was more intimate with the humanity and meaningful than all that was dished out in Latin to the Priest, monks, laymen and others to translate to the gentile.
By the time he was posted to New Mexico, Francis had completely unraveled as a Roman Catholic, although he had retained the missionary zeal for serving the needy. Now, he was more concern about the earthly matters of the needy than their simple transgressions and resurrections. His sermons and even Sunday Mass became more spiritual than the traditional reminders of the original sins and the guilt that Lord died for the humanity. The Church attendance was increasing and no one complaint about his deviation from the norms. He himself though was drifting and his anchor was no longer reaching the ocean floor of Catholic faith of his ancestors.
Such was his mental state when the afternoon tea was over and the old man broke the silence with an icebreaker.
"Hope you feel better Father Francis?"
Then he followed it with another dialogue when Francis nodded head confirming his improvement.
" Are you willing to and able to speak business now? If so; let me introduce myself officially and tell you about our mission here."
Then he raised himself half way and extended his hand for a formal handshake. " I am Chief James Eaglefeather. I am the executive director of Tenskwatawa organization. We work with the Tribal Council at Shiprock, Navajo Nation located up north. Our mission is to help all the Native American Tribes to get them to achieve modern skills without losing the tribal culture and identity. We do help all folks in emergencies if they come to us or if we find them in the deserts wandering around without food and water. It clashes with the US government's rules and regulations related to assisting the folks without the documents but we just do what any human being should do to another living thing; that is give aid to live and prosper under this blue dome we live in. We are not affiliated with any religion nor do we indulge in conversions like some organizations do." He then stopped to take a breather.
Francis was gathering his thoughts so he could say something reasonably suitable to that conversation which was not going anywhere as far as he was concerned. All he could do in response was just offer thanks to the Chief for the aid he received and then remain silent. It was getting to be a real awkward situation. Francis' mind was occupied with searching for the answers to those inevitable questions which one faces when the only shelter he had was gone: what's next? Where do I go from here? By sending away the Church's, emissary he knew he had severed the only link he had with the resources needed to survive in this harsh and busy world. As an unskilled person without his collar, the crucifix and the rosary, he was a burden on the society. Now, with the impersonal tone the chief had conveyed the message that the hospitality extended to him was not only episodic in nature but also of a very short duration. Where could he go from the Tenskwatawa; the "Open Door" then?
The old man was silently scrutinizing the face of that God's fallen man and reading his thoughts. The awkward silence finally broke when chief began to probe his past.
" Can you share some of your life experiences with me? Perhaps I could give you a direction and some financial support if I learn about your flight from the past; all in the strictest confidence of course."
Dejected as he was; Francis couldn't think of where to begin. His life experiences suddenly had become nothing more than an episode in Miguel de Cervantes' novel, 'Don Quixote of La Mancha'. After the few minutes of silence, instead of reading his resume, Francis began narrating his life story. The old man was patiently listening and when he reached the end of his sojourn in Peru and Brazil, the chief interjected quickly:
"Stop right here; I think there is a possibility that we could work on a UN sponsored project for the Aboriginal tribes of Amazon region. You have the knowledge of their language, culture, beliefs and way of life; I think there is a match with the qualified person requirement. You also speak Portuguese as well as English. If you think you can return to that part of your life of course not as a RC priest but as a project director, then I will immediately do the needed paperwork."
Within a month Francis was on the plane to Rio de Janeiro. He was to report to the senior Administrator of the program by name Giovanni .
The red-eye flight he took from Albuquerque to Miami for the connection to Rio in the afternoon was almost empty. That gave him an opportunity to go over the events of past two months. He had not revisited his decision to abandon the Roman Catholic priesthood and with that he automatically lost his membership in the faith. In one sense, the Vatican was not unhappy that he left on his own accord and thereby eliminated the risk of having a deviant priest and a possible pedophile at that, on hand, although Francis had given no reasons to worry over that issue. His work was exemplary and he served his parish with compassion and zeal.
The work he had done with the Amazonian tribes fell more into speaking up for the marginalized and dehumanize humanity than saving their souls. He dealt with the Brazilian Corporate interests as fiercely as he would have with a man possessed with the devil and he was performing the exorcism ritual. He wrote to Vatican, to the Portuguese and Spanish Royalties about the encroachment on the tribal lands and the systematic uprooting of people who knew no other way of life and were without the immune system developed for the modern man's diseases.
Since then, lot had changed and UN was engaged in managing the tribal interest. What was he to do there now when he was no longer a representative of Pontiff? He had no clue nor had a plan for the future; he simply had floated on the river of life like a piece of driftwood and landed on the shore of Brazil; was it a divine plan? The thought never crossed his mind, instead it turned him inward towards his conscience. Why was he turned off by the Vatican brand of administering the Lord's work on this planet when he knew that so much good work in the uplifting of poor and helpless mankind was being done by the system? His own sexuality was not a problem anymore as he had suppressed it like all others who were heterosexuals in nature and had embraced celibacy. Then what was it that caused him to step out and undertake another path that was not even visible to him yet? This decision to accept the very job without giving even a cursory review to see if that's what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, was based on his immediate and personal needs. Was it not the, 'Chasing of the Wind'; hypocrisy as the Ecclesiastic writings stated?
There were no answers coming from any quarters and soon he fell asleep out of sheer mental weariness. When he woke up with the inflight announcement about seat belt tightening and seat adjustment for landing; he was in no better shape than the evening he sat with the Chief in New Mexico to feel any enthusiasm towards the job he was heading to. What the destiny has in store for me? The he question popped up in his mind many times during the journey. At last he was arriving into the Brazilian airspace and there it was on the Rio De Janeiro harbor, that colossal statue sculpted by Paul Landowski of the Christ the Redeemer on the Mount Cacovada. Seeing his Master in the resurrected form with hands outstretched to embrace all suffering and oppressed people of this planet, Francis felt calmness coming over and perhaps by habit, he raised his right hand and made a gesture of cross in the air while muttering the prayer that ended with the familiar words- " In the name of Father, Son and the Holy Ghost."
| Author Notes | The story and its characters are fictitious and it is not meant to disrespect any faith or religion. It only represents a struggle most of us undergo in one form or the other in our lives. |
By Niyuta
A concierge, who picked Francis at the Rio Airport, drove him straight to his apartment on the tenth floor of a High Rise building not too far from the 'Diablo Beach. After the initial welcoming necessities, the young man was silent as if he was not permitted to chit chat with the folks he was assigned to ferry them to their destinations. That suited Francis very well. He had long ago built a pillbox like enclave in his psyche and had made it a habit to retreat into that safe-haven, whenever he felt he was in a situation where any inquisitive mind was about to indulge in the exercise of finding who he is or was.
The condition, one may call neurotic, had developed in him because, in spite of removing his collar and discarding the habits of a RC Priest; he had failed to get the Priest out of him. At best, he looked like one who has temporarily removed the vestments and was on a vacation from his parish. The nuns recognized him instantly and curtsied him as per their defined ways; the others often simply addressed him in the customary-" Good Morning or Evening, Father"- manners. It mortified him each time as he was compelled to respond to them in the befitting manners of an ordained priest.
"Why can't they recognize my departure? Don't I look like any common Brazilian Joe? How did it get stamped on my face? " There were questions and questions with no satisfactory answers. He would ponder and agonize over such trivial incidences and then irrational thoughts like:
"I get it; this is the Almighty God's way to punishing me."
The self-examination mode about his decision to rebel would then begin gnawing at his soul, followed by the rebellious mind's merciless scolding for entertaining such doubts.
"Your path has been opened for you by the destiny; be grateful for that; many more are languishing in that prison; now move on. What you walked away from was imposed on your soul, don't you understand? That was not your choice nor could you ever have a chance to exercise it, even if you had recognized it. Now remember this and don't look back, freedom awaits you with the eternally fulfilling peace. "
As the automobile from the office was rushing down the boulevard towards his apartment, the gentle morning breeze from the bay was blowing on his face. In his heart, Francis was becoming aware that he was simply chasing the wind. He reached out into his satchel and pulled out a small, black book and flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Silently he read a translated quote from the Gnostic Bible of Thomas by Thomas Lambdin which he had jotted down:
" ...... Names given to the worldly are very deceptive, for they divert our thoughts from what is correct to what is incorrect. Thus one who hears the word "God" does not perceive what is correct, but perceives what is incorrect. So also with "the Father" and "the Son" and "the Holy Spirit" and "life" and "light" and "resurrection" and "the Church (Ekklesia)" and all the rest - people do not perceive what is correct but they perceive what is incorrect, unless they have come to know what is correct. ...."
"What is correct and who decides? It is not revealed anywhere, even in the Gnostic gospels, then where one can turn for the answers?" He was beginning to ponder on that thought when his destination arrived.
The efficient young man situated him in his room and informed him that the apartment was well stocked with the daily necessities and if he needed anything he just has to make a call to the management whose numbers were listed on the card next to the phone.
"Today, you are free to go anywhere on your own but if you need a car, all he has to do is just call the office. I will pick you up at 9 AM tomorrow to take you to the office." He informed Francis before leaving. Francis thanked him and acknowledged that he understood the instructions. As he left, he undressed and went in the bathroom to freshen up.
He prepared the bath and slid into the warm water and soon returned to his earlier chain of thoughts and the quote from the Gnostic Gospel.
"The duality we have been taught to believe in since the Genesis Chapter was written, does not in reality exist in the universe as two distinct and recognizable entities; but it exists only as one entity that has two sides. Then the question arises, when and what or who for that matter, then is good now, but could be evil later and vice-versa? Was I good then as the God Almighty's Servant or am I evil now because I left His service? But then did he not make me as I am and did I not serve His institution faithfully as I am? Why then I cannot serve him even as an abomination, even though I am convinced, I am not but made now by the same institution just because I am different and is this the -Good not Good, and the Evil not Evil- Thomas wrote about and if it is, then has it not the so called evil came out of that good? If only, like the others, I had kept playing that charade, I wouldn't have been denigrated and would have continued to serve the same Good, Loving Father, the Son and also the Holy Spirit?"
His mental wrestling match would have continued to the perpetuity as there was no possible winner nor it could end in a draw but, it did get disrupted by a repeated and persistent banging on his door.
" I am in the bathroom; wait a minute." Francis called out loudly and the visitor stopped knocking.
Francis grabbed the robe and opened the door. There was a young man with an envelope in his hand.
"You could have just slid it in after knocking; didn't have to wake the neighbors." He admonished the messenger.
" I am sorry but I have been knocking for quite some time and my instructions are to give it to you in person only." The messenger spoke in a matter of fact voice.
Francis felt bit foolish but thanked him and the man left aftera slight tilting of head in a manner of saluting. Francis tossed the envelope on the desk next to the bed and went back to finish his toiletry routines. After coming out he simply put on his Khaki and a loose shirt and simply walked out of his apartment. It was after one and he was hungry. He knew Rio very well and went straight towards the Stone Arpoador Rock and walked into the street. He sat down at his favorite outdoor cafe and ordered breakfast of eggs, ham, toasts, orange juice and black coffee. He ate heartily and read the local paper as he ate. Luckily he did not come across anyone from his past sojourns in the same location nor was the waiter familiar to him.
The food and the ambiance surrounding the beach resorts made him feel free and his spirit rose He felt like enjoying the bright sunny day. Not a single thought came in his mind about his past and the divinity; instead, he began watching the young men and women having marvelous time. They were necking, hugging, kissing and extracting as much pleasures their bodies could deliver while in the public. No one was interested in watching others; they were into themselves as if each couple had the whole universe for themselves and they wanted nothing else but the free willed, unadulterated euphoria before their vacation was to end and they were to return to face the mundane world where they would have to work twice hard to pay off all that debt they were incurring without any care in the world.
Francis had taken his celibacy very seriously not only in sprit but also in the flesh. He kept sexuality completely suppressed and shunned from the living experiences while he was going through his early youth. He was bombarded with the negative and outright anti carnal pleasure indoctrinating materials. Everything was tied to the place in the Paradise after death and the pleasures of the flesh were nothing but the impediments on the path leading to that proverbial pearly gate he was told and he had believed in it. He never looked at a young woman's body with desires and was sure that he was preparing for the Noble Vocation of being the servant of the Church and through it, that of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. The psycho-biological reasons for that aversion were never occurred to him or anyone else. He realized that sexual orientation when he did experience pleasures during his first and the only encounter with that young Italian but had never really understood why.
Unconsciously Francis spotted two young men engaged in similar activities the other heterosexual lovers were engaged in. The first reaction was that he turned his eyes away from them, picked up the newspaper and buried his face into it without reading. The ploy did not work and he slowly lowered the paper enough to see what was going on. He saw them occasionally kissing each other lightly, but intimately discussing something that appeared to him like a romantic interlude between the hugging, caressing and kissing. Like the others, they too were indifferent to the surroundings and folks going about their business were also nonchalant about their presence and activities. He watched them intently picking up every facial and body language clues they were giving; as if he was making a psychological research to prove some hypothesis or perhaps, he was comparing them with his own suppressed emotions and thoughts.He remained hidden behind the newspaper but ultimately putting the paper away to observe openly. The couple engaged in the intimate social intercourse, started to move towards his location and that made him change the angle of his position. He straightened his posture and hailed a waiter and ordered more coffee.
The twosomes actually wanted to have lunch and they came on the same side of the sidewalk patio Francis was sitting and without as much as throwing a glance at him, sat at a table, within the proximity of his table. He was relieved of anxiety of being discovered as a peeping tom and facing the consequential unpleasant encounter with them. Instead of that he heard them discussing their planned wedding.
They were Americans and their discussion was completely pivoted on the event. He was eavesdropping along with the waiter, out of a natural condition of being in a public place and above all, the participants appeared neither concerned about being gay, nor were discreet about the subject under discussion. Francis was the only unrelated party interested in their affairs. He was listening to the discussion intently missing nothing. The first one said after the waiter left was as follows:
"I think we should at least try and approach different churches; someone may agree to get us married in church. I always wanted our union blessed by the Church." That appeared to be the bride of the two who spoke with a religious fervor and convictions.
"I don't see that happening; our own Church rejected us; don't you remember what Father Atkins said to us? He excommunicated us after we refused to give up our love and then lectured us about the consequence in the afterlife. They all are same! They have nothing to do with love between two individuals and it is all about the God Created Adam and Eve and procreation." The groom spoke with passion and resentment in his voice. He continued after a short pause.
"I too miss going to church and I too wish like you for a Priest marrying and blessing our union but then, such priest or a church just does not exist in our Roman Catholic or for that matter, in any other religion. Just forget it for now; may be on our twenty fifth anniversary we could remarry in the church; by then we will probably have our own church."
Francis had heard enough of it and then he wondered, "was Apostle Didymos Judas Thomas right in saying," people do not perceive what is correct but they perceive what is incorrect, unless they have come to know what is correct."
What do we perceive then if we hear words like God, Son and Holy Spirit and we do not conceive what is correct but conceive what we are told to conceive? What was lacking in the two individual's love for each other? Is it this love Church forbids in the name of God and there is not a single statement in all the Gospels indicating God forbade such love and affection. Who then introduced this excommunication of devout individuals from the house of God if the Church is supposed to be the one such place? Is it not Christ said, "Church is my body?" Who has then the authority to ban individuals from entering in Christ? Nay, I must say; today, I must accept the fact that I have truly perceived what is correct and have rejected what I had perceived 'incorrect' ever since I heard those words, "Father, Son and the Holy Ghost". Today, I have drunk from my Master's Mouth and I feel He is me and I am Him as He had told to his closest apostle. At last, I am truly united with my Savior in sprit."
As if in a trance; he got up, approached the two men and said to them:
"You are in the presence of Him when you truly love; you need no one else, not even a church or a priest to be blessed in your true matrimony of spirit."
He left the bewildered men gaping at him and rapidly walked towards the apartment.
| Author Notes | The novel, Chasing of the wind is not written for supporting any philosophy, doctrine or faith, nor for promoting, favoring any lifestyle. It is not against anyone's faith or convictions. It is only for promoting the spiritual aspect of love between two individuals regardless of their differences with the established norms. I regret if anyone's sentiments are offended- that is not my intention. |
By Niyuta
The clock from the nearby tower had chimed six times to herald the closing of beach for swimming and other water games. Francis had reached to his apartment and entered the unlocked dwelling. His mind was exhausted by dealing with the incessant flow of conflicting thoughts and emotional storms. To all other issues he had carried in his heart, one more had arrived with a strong and forceful winds; one that had begun with his encounter with the gay couple at the cafe. Without taking his shoes off, he flung himself in the bed.
The wedding of two men had become an obsession now. As a priest, he had conducted the rituals of baptism and weddings many a times and it was a routine affair for him but the principles embodying the rituals always were sacred to him and even now he cherished them. Not able to exercise that act of priestly duties gave him the anguish he could barely handle. His thoughts were submerged into the instructions given to every person in the holy bible and he started to voice his challenges to what he felt, 'a tyranny of the establishment'.
"Why can I not unite two humans in such deep love with each other and also loving the Lord? Who are they to give and take away my relationship with my Mother Church? I must not let that happen if I have to find the purpose for which I was brought in this world and put through the life of an ordained priest. Without my collar, I feel naked. If everything I did had to be approved by an establishment and what work done in my life did not please my Lord Jesus then all I undertook was the 'Chasing of the Wind' exercise; a hypocrisy of the highest order as the Ecclesiastical points out."
His self-flagellation continued until he felt totally without purpose; a worthless burden on the earth. Wearily he pulled himself out of that agonizing mental doldrums and got out of bed. The twilight was fading and room was getting darker. He reached to the desk to put on the table lamp. As the bulb came on, he noticed the envelope he had carelessly tossed that afternoon. He carefully examined the envelop to find out its origin and not finding any clue, tore opened the side and found a single sheet of copying paper. It was a note from someone whose acquaintance he could not recall. It read like this:
"Dear Francis:
I don't expect you to recognize my name but I sincerely do hope that you have the memories of our first and the only encounter in Goa, India, when you were at the threshold of your youth and I was a visiting priest from the Vatican.
Since then, I did not keep the track of your life nor did I know you had entered in the seminary. I left the Church five years after you and I met but I did not forget you. I just couldn't contact you for the obvious reasons. Recently when you applied for the UN job for which you have arrived in the Rio, I got the opportunity to learn about your life. You will be replacing me as my five years term is ending this month. I wish to take this opportunity to meet you in a private and in confidential manner because this will be our only and probably the last encounter with each other.
I wish to meet you only for to tell you in person about our first encounter and its impact on me, to learn how it affected you and also to ask your forgiveness if that encounter hurt you as I feel, it may have. I will be at the north most point of the Diablo Beach waiting for you until bout seven o' clock today. If you do not come, I will understand your decision and ask you to forgive me in your heart. God bless you. With love and best wishes,
Sincerely,
Eduardo Giovanni.
Francis read the note second time and then realized there was very little time left for him to think through the material he had read and make a decision. It was quarter to seven on the watch. His mind was not in any shape to give him a sound advice but he had to act.
"Go see him; nothing to lose; it will clear the image you have in your heart for this man."
A voice prompted him and he dashed out of the room, down the ten floors and by the time he made it to the beach, the clock had already stuck the chimes announcing the seven o' clock. He still had to negotiate a curve of two hundred yards to the rendezvous point. Disappointed and physically exhausted, Francis slowed down almost to a stop but his heart was prompting him to keep on trucking to meet the man he had loved all those twenty two years. He kept moving and shortly reached the bend on the road. There was another hundred yards to traverse in the sandy beach. The twilight had faded and one could barely note the silhouettes of objects approaching. The darkness was swallowing everything like the black India ink spilled over a page of a book, obliterates the typed material as it spreads.
Finally he just stopped and stood there helplessly. Tears were rolling down his face and he was too numb to feel any emotions. The lights from one of the last tall buildings on the road hugging the beach, were giving the only relief from the rapidly engulfing darkness. Suddenly he was rudely bumped by a tall figure wearing a Fedora and he lost his balance and staggered backward but was caught by the man who had bumped into him.
The faint light emanated by the high rise fell on Francis' face and the man gasped recognizing him.
"You; Francis Mendez." He exclaimed steadying him at the same time.
"Monsignor Giovanni, is that you sir?"
"I am Eduardo Giovanni but not the Monsignor you met before," the man responded.
They stood there for few minutes in an awkward silence not knowing what to do next. Then Francis took the initiative and said, "You may not have had supper and I am hungry. Would you like to?"
"That's the great idea for us to reacquaint with each other in a "Lighted Environment", he made the quotation marks in the air to emphasize the pun on the words.
They got off the beach, walked towards the Princesa Isabel Avenue and hailed a cab to a quiet Brazilian Caf�?�© on the Rua Santa Clara. Both the men knew Rio very well and they chatted in Italian mixed with the native Portuguese and occasional English phrases filling the gaps. Neither one were willing to touch the subject matter which was closer to their heart as the ambiance in the public places was not giving them the privacy they needed. One thing was achieved that both men had not only recognized each other but had succeeded in building a weak but sure link with their past.
Eduardo had the opportunity to read Francis' bio-data and seen his photograph attached to his application as well as on the copy of his Passport. He had read about the long assignment in the Amazonian tribal areas Francis was posted to by the Church. While reading Francis' C.V., Eduardo realized that their lives had taken parallel paths soon after he returned from that official trip to Goa. To get the demonic desires out of his soul, he too was sent by the Vatican to the primitive areas of the world and had spent several years in Papua New Guinea and Naga Land jungle areas of eastern India where he had organized education, health care and other uplifting efforts sponsored and paid by the church. He too had made the confession about his sexuality and had undergone the so called treatment Francis was subjected to-The isolation from the tempting young men to give time to kill the natural tendencies of the flesh.
Right after those forays among the tribes, Eduardo had discovered that those so called primitive societies had in fact, spiritual approach to divinity and the elements their existence depended on. They retained that aspect in spite of all indoctrination and promises of a great life both here on the plane and also after departing. The only religious input they received and accepted was that of the Church's rituals and practices. They participated in all that elaborated worshipping and the regalia associated with it. They performed all the necessary rituals with eagerness and enthusiasm of a child keen on learning the tables to get admiration from the adults.
The tribes lived their lives as per their own understanding of the universe surrounding them. Their spirit of freedom infected their priest and he stopped efforts to make them the Good Catholics and in turn, became a free thinking lose canon taking liberties with the established practices and procedures. Eduardo's resignation was quietly accepted and then for the next ten years, he went about doing his charity work where ever he could find. Like Francis, he too remained loyal to his oaths and promises to the Master and his Church; he remained a celibate.
He was in his fifties now and a new chapter had opened for him with the accidental linking with one he had loved once. However, he was not sure if that love was alive in his heart as well as in Francis. A younger man had taken over his job at that UN post in Brazil and the older man was now free to do what so ever he wished. Financially, Eduardo was secured by the UN funds and his own small family holdings in his native Italy. Only thing he was missing now was a lifelong quest; a final goal to achieve before he made to the other side of life. At that moment he had no clue where it all was heading or how it was ending. Looking at him, an observer would have found him without any worry about his future at all; he looked rather pleased with himself, as if he had a sure shot plan to do something after leaving the UN office in Rio.
After the supper, they returned to their original meeting place near the Rock and began walking towards the sea. It was peaceful night and the moon had arrived on the horizon. The breeze from the sea was cooler now than it was in the morning. Both men were examining their feelings and searching for a phrase or a joke to break the ice. Going back all the way to that first encounter to rekindle the romantic fire, was a nonstarter at that juncture and they both had recognized that fact. The void between them seemed a natural thing, neither one appeared to be anxious to fill quickly.
On Francis mind, the effect of the amorous episode which was caused by his encounter with the two young gay men on the beach had already lost its effect like the sobering from a bout of heavy drinking wears out after a long and paralyzing sleep next morning. Only strong and compelling force that was still there in his heart was the rebellion he felt against the Church Authority causing him to lose his priesthood solely because of his confessed sexuality. The man he loved in his heart all these years was walking with him and the reality he was facing now, did not match the original image he had stored in the secret enclave of his soul. Indeed, he had been Chasing the Wind all his life.
"Am I not a homosexual then?" He thought after examining his heart's ardent desires and feelings about love and it's fulfilling expressions. When this doubt rose,he was shaken up about his own sexual identity. Not getting any feelings towards the females was, or could have been, the effect of that artificial environment he was forced into when he was just a young man being groomed for the priesthood, but then he remembered his wrestling days of high school and the natural tendencies to like handsome, young bodies of his opponents. He couldn't help remembering that and his original understanding of himself returned.
Eduardo on the other hand was sorting out his life rather than his emotions towards a man walking besides him. He too had his share of disappointments and resentment towards the same authorities but he had not stormed out of the organization nor was there any fuss about his leaving. At that moment, he wasn't even sure if he wished to remain in Brazil, leave aside in Rio, which was expensive for him to live on his limited means. His preoccupation with that had lead to a silence as thick as the darkness surrounding them.Finally when they reached to the apartment building Francis was living in, they parted company with an awkward adieu. "Let us meet again in a day or so" was the last parting words Eduardo Giovanni uttered as he moved away quickly.
It was obvious that each had reached to the same conclusion that there was no real substance to their amorous feelings towards each other and what memories they had carried in their bosom were nothing more than a recollection of a pleasant event that took place a long time ago. The anticipated revival of the warm feelings Francis had cherished for such a long time, turned out to be a pleasant but business like interaction that lacked the intimacy; an essential ingredient for a beginning of a romantic relationship. With such an abrupt change in the scenario he had drawn in his mind for that visit, he needed time to figure out his own sentiments. Now the original reason, 'the attraction for the first man' he had imagined to be and was carried in his bosom, was chucked out of the window by his psyche. He needed to seek the actual cause of the emotional emptiness he had been feeling during his entire life and perhaps the answer lay somewhere else. May be he would find out and then like millions of others he too will go to his maker with that empty heart.
After returning to his room he got into his daily routine of toiletry and bathing before bed. He enjoyed the soaking in the hot bath and always used it as a stimulant to his creativity. His materials for Sunday sermons and the writings for the special occasions were produced while he was submerged into the soapy waters. That evening he was just going to reflect on the events and check out if they had impacted on his plans for the immediate future.
Francis took stock of his own emotional conditions; before and after meeting Eduardo. There was no doubt that he was thrilled with the idea that he was going to meet that debonair, handsome man with the dark hair. He expected that Eduardo would definitely reciprocate when they met with real feelings of warmth and affection, if not with love he had in his heart when he was rushing to meet him. Realizing the child like anticipation he had, Francis chuckled and said to himself, "Boy! Did I not act like Juliet rushing out to meet her Romeo?" Then he examined his reaction after their meeting on the beach when Eduardo caught him to prevent falling.
"That was such an anticlimax!" he thought. Then he realized the fallacy of his feelings. It became apparent by that event instantly as he had felt no thrill or any other feelings by the touch; unlike the amour filled joy the two gay young men on the beach were openly experiencing and displaying.
" It was nothing like that; therefor my carrying those sentiments for twenty plus years for someone, was nothing more than a mirage; a fantasy? Did I then mislead myself and the others and gave up my cherished job?"
He paused to reflect on that and then remembered the episode in the house of his Goan parishioner in New Mexico.
"What happened to you when you saw that naked young man? Why did you begin to fall apart?" his alter ego questioned him. He was searching his mind and examining his conscience but couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation.
"There you go; you can't suppress or hide what you are. Test yourself and go meet those men and see if they introduce to younger, more appealing and pleasing men and how you feel. That will be your Litmus Test." The alter ego was trying to set him straight on the path that he, as former ordained priest was resisting to take.
"What choices do you have? If you return to your former profession in any other place, you will come across the temptations that you may not be able to resist and then what?" The onslaught was chipping away at his firm convictions and the stubborn adherence to the vow of celibacy but he was resisting it with the equal vigor.
" Nothing doing; I did not leave church for my carnal pleasures nor I have ever made efforts to fill my emptiness with the reckless adventures," he said to himself with firm convictions and faith in his own capabilities to take the rational decision. At that point, he decided to stop his analysis and just finish the toiletry.
Next morning Francis was all eager and ready to go to work. Someone from his office picked him up from the apartment building and shortly he was in his office. The manager in charge of the administration gave him the tour and introduced the staff. By lunch time he was buried knee dip in the paperwork and meetings kept his afternoon full. He was in his domain and all that systematic training and work experience he had undertaken previously as a Parish Priest of the Amazon natives came back to him. The weekdays went without any disturbances or unusual events. He had sunk in the routine so quickly that his staff felt he had been there all along the years they had worked. He did not hear from Eduardo until the weekend. Just before leaving for his apartment he called:
" Would you like to join me for a soiree at the conservatory this evening? We could have dinner and spend some time at the Conservatory if you are free of course?"
Francis had no plans for the evening and he thought it could be a new start for his life to learn the social skills and know few folks. Besides that, the ambiance of musical pleasures and arts he thought may give him another test of his lingering doubts about his abilities to remain true to the values he had cherished all his life. He agreed and they decided to leave his place by six thirty.
| Author Notes | The complex and controversial subject of this novel is written to draw attention of my readers to the mental picture of those who land in the vocations with all their integrity, love and sincerity but are cast out as misfit or worst merely because they discover who they are at some stage of their lives. A Priest's life is one of those vocations. It is not to hurt anyone's religious feelings or insult any faith. I find goodness in all religions buried deep within. |
By Niyuta
Eduardo arrived on dot at six thirty and found Francis in a state of dilemma.
"I just don't have the right sort of cloths for a soiree in a conservatory." He exclaimed as soon as Eduardo came in the door.
"Never needed any fancy outfit and have not been anywhere other than the Church related programs." He continued his explanation for not being ready.
"We are going to Lapa. It is a Cidade da Musica, Artes. It is located in Barra da Trijuca; the South West part of Rio. We will go to a place where they play Pogode music. It won't matter what you wear; it is a Bohemian sort of place, so put on your bathroom robe if you like but get ready quickly." Eduardo said in a bit exasperated voice.
By seven, they were on the way to Rua Farme de Amedo.
"What sort of Bohemian folks you think we will be interacting with?" He wanted to be sure; his past vocation had not gone out of him yet.
"Don't worry Francis, I am not taking you anywhere to initiate you in the corporal sins, just relax and enjoy the evening as it unfolds. It is a quiet place and we can talk uninterruptedly. After I am gone from the scene in a week, you can come down to this part of the city and relax. You'll need it." His companion assured him.
When they reached the destination, Francis felt very uneasy when he noticed the groups of young people having good time. Almost all couples were of same sex and then there were the transvestites. All were waiting for a table in a Bar with neon sign, "Le Boy".
Although bewildered, he refrained from asking any questions and just followed Eduardo. In spite of his own orientation, Francis was visibly uncomfortable in that ambiance. With his head slightly bent and eyes downcast, he moved behind his guide but occasionally stealing glimpses of the passing revelers.
By the time they reached to their destined restaurant, he had realized the obvious nature of the ' Le Bohemia' Eduardo had spoken about. With all the sparring still going on with self-doubts, the prickly conscience and those twenty years of shepherding of the parishioners; he was not comfortable with the idea of jumping in the Jacuzzi with bunch of like minded but strangers. However, he was feeling lot less tense about himself now, since the time he had met those two gay men wanting to get married. When they entered the restaurant named, ' Bolsa de Valores' , he was surprised by the delightfully quiet environ and the polite demure of the Maitre d' restaurant. In one corner musicians were playing soft Samba music, somewhat reminiscent of the Fundo De Quintal genre. He was now relaxing his guards and was actually beginning to enjoy. The decorum and the music took him back to his native Goa where Portuguese influence was everywhere as the land was colonized like Brazil, for about three hundred years.
Apparently, this was Eduardo's favorite watering station. Just about everyone from the staff and some from the customer pool, knew him by name and expressed their compliments. They had a booth reserved at the far end of the large hall somewhat away from the musicians. They settled down and a waiter came with two wine glasses, a Carafe of Portuguese Port and some snacks. He saluted them and Eduardo introduced Francis to him, "Look here Pascua, this is my very dear friend Seignior Francis. Make sure he is happy when he comes for dinner." With a well cultivated smile of a seasoned waiter, Pascua gave assurance that his friend will receive the same excellent service, just the way Seignior received all those years. "Come after half an hour for the order," Eduardo instructed him as he left.
They toasted to each others health after Francis completed his customary prayers over the wine and food and they settled down. After the usual small talks about the job and taking few gulps of that excellent Port, Eduardo took the initiative. Ever since they met on the beach the first time, they had been avoiding to touch the subject that lay at the very core of their future relationship- What happened to them and how their lives changed after they parted on that fateful night in Goa when Francis was a young apprentice, being prepared for the service of the Church and Jesus and Eduardo, a young rising Padre, a star performer in the service of His Holiness the Pope.
This matter had gained so much of importance to Eduardo, and reason for bringing it up at that moment was that he had carried a heavy burden of guilt over the incidence and it had been hurting him inside. He had found no relief from it, in spite of confessions, fasting and religiously praying for the forgiveness. At that juncture in their lives, they both were losers. The glorious path to accession in the management hierarchy of the Holly Church became unavailable to them; instead they had received assignments which generally Jesuits would have volunteered for. Both were assigned to the parishes in the remote jungles of Amazon and Papua New Guinea. At the end, both had lost their faith in the Roman Catholic System of top down governance and the excessive use of moral codes to shun people out of Church and from the Savior's sacraments.
Francis had rebelled and abandoned the post but Eduardo had resigned and properly followed the exit protocol of the Vatican Management. There was no return for Francis but Eduardo could seek forgiveness from the Pope and could be eligible for the re entry, provided he had retained the vows he had taken as a priest and practiced the required moral and ethical part of the RC doctrine but then years had rolled off since he gave up his priesthood. Now, it was crystal clear to both men that they were not romantically attracted to each other, as was the case in that first and the only occasion a long time ago.
Eduardo opened up awkwardly.
"I would like to touch a subject. It is personal and I assure you our conversation will remain in confidence as if it is a confession. Of course, only if you do not have any reservations and do not wish to talk about it. The reasons for dwelling in that past event is bit complicated but not doing so, will have a profound impact on my life and future plans. We met here unexpectedly after over two decades; perhaps there is a divine intervention here; a hope for a more meaningful life for both of us. If not, we may never see each other again. "
Francis was surprised and became very tense as he saw feeling of distress in the older man's eyes. Somehow, he too was wondering about their future relationship and curious about the man's life as he had disappeared from the scene all together. In the early part of his career when he had inquired about his whereabouts, he was discouraged and admonished for not devoting his time for the appropriate tasks he was prepared for.
After arriving to Rio, he felt there was some mystery about the whole business of getting a job in the city and meeting someone he had loved all his life in a sort of abstract way, only to discover that the memories of an attractive man he had held in his bosom, were actually an illusion. Now that they had come together, there was no real emotional or sexual bonding between them at all. Perhaps it was the age difference, absence of libido or, appearance of same man without the dignifying gowns and the impressive head gear with golden borders, that made him look more regal then, made now less attractive in the outdated cloths of an ordinary hombre. Francis looked up in his eyes and said to him in a low, apologetic voice:
"I never had much of a private life, so what personal life you wish to know about, that is not included my bio data? Go ahead and ask and I will do my best to fill in the gaps."
"It is not what happened to your career I want to learn about; I know you walked away from the Church in a rebellion. I just want to know how you got affected by that incident in Goa when you were so young and innocent about the ways of the adult world. My conscience has been eating me alive ever since that night. I feel responsible for your falling out of favors and eventual rebellion against the Mother Church. To this day, I cannot fathom why and how that force of passion overtook my judgment, integrity and honesty; but then I must confess, I did not feel remorse or a sense of guilt about the feelings, passion and the event itself. The thought of its adverse consequences, perhaps you were forced to face alone, only that gave me the guilt. After your arrival here and during our meetings, I felt you are hurt badly and are bleeding and I did not know what I could do to comfort you. Do you think we could share our memories, thoughts and see what will be the right course for both of us to take that may ease, if not eliminate our sufferings?"
Eduardo spoke in a quivering voice that was full of concerns for the younger man and his eyes had nothing but the compassion for the man he thought he had wronged.
Hearing that monologues speech, Francis was shocked beyond belief. He did not expect a topic of this nature opened for discussion with him by the very man who had seduced him a long time ago but, since their meeting in Rio, had behaved as if nothing had ever happened between them. During that speech, he was sitting with downcast eyes staring in the wine which he had barely sipped. Attentively he had heard every syllable and synthesized the message. His mind was searching for the meaning hidden behind the words and phrases, as if he was expecting something subtle; an offer, a proposal, perhaps a plan for the future, which he desperately needed to feel acceptance, comradeship, a relationship which was warm and humanistic and not the business like bureaucracy which the UN agency had given him already.
The waiter had returned a few times to check on them and having found them in a deep and intimate conversation, had gone back to do other things. This time he seems to have made up his mind to disrupt their conversation and take an order, if at all there was to be an order for him to deliver it to the kitchen. Seeing him coming, Francis began searching for the menu items and Eduardo told him not to bother.
" I know what is good here; allow me to order for you."
Francis nodded and gave his consent. When the waiter was gone beyond the earshot; he began collecting and arranging his thoughts so as to give meaningful responses and draw an accurate picture of his mental state. Eduardo watched his face with compassion but also intently in order to pick signs of distress and pain. It appeared that he had prepared himself carefully for that event and had some plan in his mind.
The first sentence from Francis' mouth set the tone of that speech:
"Eduardo, my dear friend, I want to assure you that the event you referred to, had not made any additional or special negative impact on my life. Personally, that event introduced me to the reality of life which I, and others like me, were kept away from. That was the one and only event that gave me a sense of belonging to the human race. When I look back on my life, I find a huge void in learning to build a natural and humanistic relationships with the world we live in. I did not have a childhood nor did I grow up gradually, making errors and gaining benefits of those experiences. I did not learn how to deal with human touches, caresses and sexual impulses as I was stepping into my adolescence.
The artificial divinity bestowed upon me was a cruel joke that kept my siblings, males and females of my age away from me as if I was a precious crystal to be admired from the distance but not touched. Early on I was set to traverse only on the vestibules of purity; in the house of God, where the sinful humanity waited at the gate to have a glimpse of the pure and unblemished child; a future leader of the Apostolic traditions. I was submerged in the sea of adulation, prestige and superstitions and even though it pleased me to see elderly men and women doing salutations, I was feeling empty inside. Those longings for physical love, for a simple sensation of a kiss, all were gone that night. That was the first time I felt the normal feelings about being a young man;not an angel or miracle child. I was not hurt as you thought, instead, a seed was planted in me that the love of our Master has many pathways and depicting Him born as a man, sans humanistic attributes in itself was nothing short of puritanical, arid view of living, ignoring the fact that displaying love between the two individuals can be a catalytic event for the followers to learn to love each other; albeit it had the effect of a scratch from the Cupid's arrow."
At that juncture, he stopped and took a large gulp of Port in his mouth and slowly allowed it to go down while preparing for the next load of emotion filled sentiments to be laid in front of the man whose sweet memory he had kept hidden in his heart for a long time. Eduardo also took time to nibble on the tit bits which came with the wine. He too was silently processing the information to understand the mental state of his former colleague. Unlike Francis, he had not preserve the soft memories of a handsome young man in his mind and only his conscience had carried that sense of wrongdoing for all those years.
Finally, Francis picked up the thread and resumed his discourse:
"My early youth activities, education and the subsequent ascension to priesthood were set up with practically no participation in any decision making processes by me. By the time my education was finished, I had not developed any independent will of my own. I also built a personality that was always eager to please others; especially those who were in power and had all the commanding virtues which the commoners held in the high esteem. My living values were not learned but injected in me. I was the epitome of purity then even to myself; the unblemished child whose body bore the visage of Christ at birth. There were lofty expectations of me and I was to fulfill them not for my personal benefits because I did not know the concept of having a personal 'thing. I was convinced to believe in -born to serve the Lord- that too through our mother church, mantra. I did not mind the attention and enjoyed the honors and praises. I simply floated on that current like a rafter rides on the hot air to reach great heights. "
Francis took a break and reached for the glass of wine. Eduardo was simply amazed with the eloquence and the clarity of the man's speech and thought, he must have been preparing for speaking with him sooner or later during their sojourn in Rio. He felt relieved of the burden of making Francis trust him and open up his heart; it had happened naturally. Same moment, the waiter came up with the food. They sat quietly polishing of the spicy, Bourbon Stake and the red wine of Portuguese vintage.
Eduardo had not plan that evening to go this way; he had only hoped to gain the younger man's trust and friendship. Rest would have come later, gradually and perhaps incrementally. He was in fact astonished that Francis had so much to empty out from his bosom in just one sitting and then he realized that as much as he thought of him as a past acquaintance, that much more Francis had looked upon him as a senior clergy; a man who is in habit of taking confessions and advising the confessors; a man of the Church; an emissary of H.H., The Pope- just the way the young man had seen him during their first face-to-face encounter, two or so decades ago.
The thought unsettled him. That was not his present status and he had given up the collar a long time ago. He too had left the priesthood like Francis except that, he had followed the proper path and resigned without any protest and with the permission. How then this evening was to end? He couldn't show Francis that he was not so much interested in the details of his biography but was mainly interested in finding what Francis was going to do later in life. The UN appointment was a short one with no hopes of continuing beyond the present two years term. What comes after that was the matter of interest to him. "I have to look after him" was the thought he was carrying in his head. Eduardo decided to bring in the filler events so as to deprive Francis an opportunity to continue the subject at that time. It was a delicate situation that warranted a well thought out plan and that needed time which was short. He was returning to his home in Italy in just two days. As they stepped out, he took Francis with his elbow and said:
"I hope you are not in any hurry to hit the bed and if so, let me introduce you to few of my friends who will be of considerable support to you after I leave Rio; you can count on them I assure you."
By the habit of not resisting any suggestion or even think of an alternative scheme, he simply agreed and then started walking towards the beach in silence. They reached Lapa, located in Barra da Trijuca in the South West Rio.
" That's the Cidade da Musica, Artes, we have a balcony box there and our group meets there almost every weekend after dinner."
"That's marvelous idea." Francis tried to participate in the conversation.
As they got into the building, several men and women came forward to greet Eduardo. Some spoke in Italian and French and others in English. He was introduced to all members and they shook hands with him and welcomed him to the group. The musical was about to commence so they moved to their box on the second floor and soon it became dark and performance began.
| Author Notes | The story is not presented to advance any cause, not to denigrate any faith or religion. It is a simple story exposing the psychological struggle of a man who had walked away from the sanctuary of his Church in search of his true faith that conflicted with the church rules and outlooks towards life. If anyone is offended, I regret it; that is not my intention. |
By Niyuta
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
By Niyuta
After dropping brother Pascu at his hotel, Francis asked the Cabby to drop him at the corner of the road intersecting beach road. His apartment was just half a mile from that corner and he almost always walked to his dwelling every evening. Most regulars and the residents recognized him by his mannerism. By lifelong practice, he would automatically bestow the blessings of The Lord by the standardize movement of right arm move, depicting the Cross upon all any person's greeting to him and thereby reveling his past. He had not worn his Priestly habits ever since he had left his Church in New Mexico; never the less, he was looked upon as a revered person of the church. This perception had made him to stand alone among the international as well as the native community. The treatment he received in the theater was the result of that perception. Most of them were very uncomfortable with the presence of a Roman Catholic Father figure amidst them as if he was an agent of the RC authority that had been condemning them historically. Eduardo had not revealed anything about Francis to anyone nor had he introduced him to the group properly. Perhaps he was waiting for an opportune moment after the play that night but Francis had left abruptly without saying a word and that turned their initial suspicion, in to a firm belief that he was indeed an implanted spy. They kept him at distance and he regarded that as their indifference towards him something like an odd man out situation. In spite of making efforts to socialize with them, he failed to find a friend within the LGBT community living in that part of the Rio, even though he had been meeting them or coming across the familiar faces for the past six month.
Eduardo also had his own set of perception of him. They were based on his observations, which he had been making mental notes of. He was often confused by the Priest like acts of Francis. He had gone through the same experiences and doubts about the RC authority's treatment of the people with, 'the other' sexualities and had left the Priesthood in a systematic manner and having done that, he had removed the collar, habits and the indoctrinated idiosyncrasies completely from his persona, never to look back or think of picking up the profession again. Francis on the other hand appeared to him, was still practicing his duties and responsibilities- albeit, unconsciously. It showed in each of their interactions whenever they met or spoke on the phone for official or private reasons. He wondered if Francis had really left the Church or was just hung in the abyss that one faces when one is in the process of metamorphosis.
Walking back to his room, Francis was completely lost in his attempt to build the bridge to his childhood. He was foraging for the links that would connect him to his other siblings and mother he had never really knew that well. He very well remembered Pascu, as he was then called by the local Konkani speaking town folks and close relatives. Older brother used to carry him on his back and swing him around him in a circle.
The fragments of his childhood memories made him confident that now he will be able to go back to his native land someday; that is, if it still exist as comfortable and welcoming as it was then, after the change from the colonial territory to a state of India which he had not seen. He had not considered that possibility of returning before but, with brother's presence in his life, that thought crossed his mind and he did not push it away, nor he delved into the possibilities of doing that immediately; he simply did not have much to go on with at this time and decided to leave that decision for later time.
As he entered the building, the night porter recognized him and came forward with a greeting and said: "A gentleman came to see you and left half an hour ago but left this letter for you". He placed an envelope in his hand. Francis thanked the porter with the customary blessings and climbed the stairs to his room.
He recognized the handwriting at once and with a shrug, shoved it in his side pocket. He had an inkling of what message of the letter would be and he was not anxious to read it at the moment.
Francis entered his one room and kitchen, efficiency apartment and as usual, flung his blazer on the chair next to his bed, kicked his shoes off and dropped on his bed with feet planted on the ground with a legs spread wide. He was staring at a spot on the ceiling and soon was lost in the business of rehashing the events of that evening. He was in a happy mood prompted by the feeling that had permeated his mind since spending time with Pascu and that feeling was that finally he was going to have a family again and that he did belong to something, some organization where he will participate in something which he was yet to discover or even invent. The void in his life without the presence of Mother Church, appeared to be diminishing and getting replaced by anticipations.
" My Pascu, my brother" he exclaimed to himself; he will make it easy now. He was imagining the days of living with the family; the children and a sister in law; ignoring the fact that none of them had set their eyes on him yet, and then, from nowhere a thought came in his head as if, that protagonist occupying a secured place in his psyche and was waiting for an opportune moment to arrive, found it, and injected the poison of that guilt in the chain of joyous daydreaming. The guilt, arising out of the awareness of his homosexuality, which he neither could ignore, remove, or surrender, to the higher authority of RC church.
"What explanation was he to give to his relatives about him not wearing the collar or avoiding to go with them to Mass or to Holy Communion?"
With that thought, he plunged into the abyss of doubts, uncertainty and fears.
"Am I prepared to go into intimacy of human relationship even though it is a family reunion?"
He questioned himself and memory of that episode in the house of the Goan family in New Mexico, which he had pushed down in the labyrinth of his memories, popped up like the jumping jack.
For the past nine months he had lived alone in Rio, and had no opportunity to test himself if he had won the battle against the sudden rise of that wayward passion- 'wanting to hold another young man's body'; something he had experienced first time and realized that he had liked the sensations, when he was in the Greco-Roman Wrestling team of his high school. Now, again he was not sure of himself. The thought of being in an household environment with strangers, pulled the rug out from under his feet and he went in the bout of depression instantly.
"Run, run, get away, you don't belong to that world; it is all well laid out for the society but not for the likes of you; remember the 'ECCLESIASICUS-the Chasing of The Wind'? -Death:
"A time for giving birth, A time for dying;"
He was supposed to be a dead person when it comes to the carnal passion and for whom, was a mute question; homo or otherwise, the rule of celibacy was same for all those who swore to wear the collar. There is no discrimination here; all are same in the eyes of Church and the God
His "In Persecution" had commenced. Memory of his flight from the Church in New Mexico, came alive and the passage from the Jerusalem Bible began its journey from his locked up wad of unpleasant memories, to the frontal lobe of his brain. He muttered in Latin:
"Cogito Ergo Sum" (because I think, I exist). How then will I prevent myself from thinking of love for my fellow men, when, 'I exist as I am made' is not acceptable to my church?!
There was no end in sight and he had no means of stopping the torrential pouring of conflicting thoughts wrestling for supremacy of mind to make him act. Luckily, telephone rang with the ear-piercing insistency and duration and he snapped out of what looked like, the 'Cotard's syndrome' state and reached for the Telephone.
" Hello" he answered in a weak voice.
" Are you alright? You sound so much depressed." This is Pascu.
"Oh, I am alright; just bit overwhelm, that's all".
"I am home now and I want to tell you something; "everyone is so much excited about finding you and just can't wait to see you in person; here, speak to your sister in law."
"Boa noite, cunhado! Eu sou Rosetta; sejam bem-vindos ao nosso lar. Venha e aben�??�?�§oe nosso lar; Venha amanh�??�?�£, " - ("Good evening, brother-in-law! I am Rosetta; you are most welcome to our home. Come and bless our home; come tomorrow,)."
He responded in Portugese also, "agradecer vocÃ???Ã??Ã?ª mas amanhÃ???Ã??Ã?£ pode ser difÃ???Ã??Ã?Âcil, eu estou trabalhando no Rio, pode ser para o fim de semana."-( Thank you but tomorrow may be difficult, I am working in Rio, may be this weekend").
Pascu came on line again and they fixed the program that suited both the parties. Francis got the opportunity to work on his demons and Pascu and Rosetta got time to plan a grand welcome for the only brother and that too, a Roman Catholic Priest, to their home.
The telephone call made Francis aware of the fact that he was in an awkward situation. On one hand his family was not only inviting him as a close relative to return to them and the other hand it was expected of him to do all that a senior priest would do; conduct a mass and blessing to the home and hearth. Instinctively he knew that the local Church's officials and some members of the congregation will be present to receive him. With that thought, he sank back on the bed.
It was past midnight and breeze from the sea gently pushed the window open. The papers on the desk started to move with the air current and as the force of wind became powerful enough, the pages of Bible began fluttering with it. Wearily he pulled himself out of the bed and picked up the frail, tattering book in his hand. The pages opened in front of him were, Luke. His eyes caught section: 6:43 and he began reading:
"There is no sound tree that produces rotten fruit, nor again a rotten tree that produces sound fruit. For every tree can be told by its own fruit: people do not pick figs from thorns, nor gather grapes from brambles. A good man draws what is good from the store of goodness in his heart; a bad man draws what is bad from the store of badness. For man's words flow out of what fills his heart."
As he was closing the book, his eyes caught a passage in the next section:
"Why do you call me Lord, Lord and not do what I say?
Everyone who comes to me and listens to my words and acts on them-I will show you what he is like. He is like the man who when he built his house dug, dug, deep, and laid the foundations on rock......it was so well built."
Hurriedly he flipped the pages and went straight to the First Letter of Peter which he had read before and had a page holder on the section 3:13. He had forgotten some part of it and began reading it.
"No one can hurt you if you are determined to do only what is right; if you do have to suffer for being good, you will count it a blessing. There is no need to be afraid or to worry about them. 'Simply reverence the Lord' Christ in your hearts, and always have your answer ready for people who ask you the reasons for the hope that you all have. But give it with courtesy, and respect and with clear conscience, so that those who slander you when you are living a good life in Christ may be proved wrong in the accusations that they bring. And if it is the will of God that you should suffer, it is better to suffer for doing right than for doing wrong."
The reading of those words gave comforts to his troubled heart and he sensed calmness coming over him. He became hungry and moved towards the kitchen, pulled a loaf of bread and a bag of Ham from the refrigerator. He made few sandwiches and began to eat. His mind was totally free of any thoughts for some time and after finishing the snack, he got up and went to the bathroom, finished his chores of getting ready for bed and in few minutes, for once, fell in a deep sleep. Peacefulness of his visage would have given an impression to anyone looking at his face now, that indeed it was a face of a man who has achieved the Nirvana.
By Niyuta
Francis woke up early but did not get out of bed, instead, he propped himself up against the headboard and began to organized his activities for the day. It was a Wednesday and it was going to be a very busy day at the office. There were UN officials arriving from New York to discuss the plans submitted by the Brazilian government for the resettlement of some of the Amazonian Tribal villages to more accessible region of the tropical jungle. The W.H.O. had asked Francis to review the environmental and the adverse social disruption impact statements prepared by the experts hired by the mining companies and supported by the Brazilian natural resources departments. Off and on, he had worked on the project. Over five years of experience working with the Tribes for the Church, he had acquired their trust and affection. Ostensibly he had treated them not as savages but humans of different ideology about the divinity and way of life. This approach worked much better than the standardize process of conversion adopted by the Jesuits and other missionaries everywhere else in the world. He was more interested in improving their lot than saving their souls. He had written several reports and worked on their behalf with the UN and other NGOs to protect their lands and waters. The position he was holding came to his way because of this work being admired by the journalists and others. His mind was already engaged in that day's agenda and his personal issues had taken the backseat for now.
Sitting upright in the bed Francis was revisiting his years in the Amazonian jungles and at the cusp of what we call a civilized world. Then in mid-nineteen sixties, he was a young man with lots of enthusiasm and zeal for saving the souls of those who he thought as the innocent and untouched by the sinful ways of the modern world. The material in his monastery he had studied related to that assignment was mostly the chronicles of others like him who had spent their lives among the tribes of Africa, Indian Eastern jungles and Papua New Guinea. The central theme and the focus of those reports primarily was the pitiable conditions of the natives, their inferior and misconceived notions about life, living and the divinity, all of which needed the attention of the civilized world basking in the glory of the Father, The Son and The Holy Ghost- in essence that of the wealthy Christian kingdoms of Eighteenth and Nineteenth century Europe. The descriptions of traditions and cultural ethos were depicted in the most effective and vividly shocking use of vocabulary and rituals described in such abysmal ways as to have a dreadful picture in the minds of the readers. All this done for the fund raising in the name of religion and to arouse pity for the poor devils.
When he arrived at the Mission out post in 1980, at the Sau Paulo cost, he was full of apprehension and somewhat disappointed. During his early days at the Vatican, he was seen as a rising star because of his extra ordinary attractive personality, diligent working habits and exceptional knowledge of the Scripture and Roman Catholic liturgies. Most Dioceses are located in the prestigious places and an attractive priest was an asset that made positive impressions on the benefactors of the church. Accordingly, it was expected that he would be working in the Arch Diocese of Boston or San Francisco but then in his confession, he had confided to his mentor, a Dominican senior clergy, his sexual dreams and then, a difference in attitudes and avoidance, began to show in the beginning among the lower ranking officials and later, became plainly visible in the upper echelons of the hierarchy. No one mentioned Boston after that and he landed here in Brazil-a posting to cure him of his abnormal mental affection for the attractive males.
The years rolled out quickly and the world forgot him and his total absorption into solving the daily problems of unimportant people became his obsession. Devout as he was to the teachings of his Master, he was constantly thinking of love and kindness. It was no wonder that his favorite Saint has been the Francis of Assisi. He learned several dialects and studied their spiritual approaches to the divinity and was attracted to their lack of desires to acquire what the modern world would kill for-the commercial booties. They, in their own rights were inventive and intelligent people who knew how to make the best of what nature offers to humanity. Without disturbing their way of life, he began educating them in the ways of modern civilization and the value of freedom they had. He wrote to higher ups in Brazil and Vatican about the destruction of their habitat, pollution of their rivers and fishing grounds and finally to NGOs in New York, London and U.N.O.
His work under the banner of Roman Catholic Church had taken a major shift. Instead of bringing the savages into the RC system of faith, he was taking them towards the Gnostic path of Thomas and Phillip. The very path that was denounced by the early Roman Church official like the Bishop of Antioch-Ignatius, Clement and Valentinus, began to creep into his mind after he read a scholarly translations of Gnostic accounts of intimacy of Jesus with Thomas and Mary Magdalene in the newly discovered 52 texts in 1945. The findings of text from the time of Jesus and the first and second century at Nag Hammadi in Egyptian cave, also included the gospel of truth and the Apocalypse of Paul, Secrete Book of James(brother of Jesus), Apocalypse of Peter-to name few. The history of early Christian era indicated that Christians outside the Rome, did not accept the Roman Catholic doctrine of hierarchical organization to reach the God(Bishop to Layman) and the challenge to that authority was reflected in those ancient writings of individuals who were close to Jesus while he was alive and spreading the message of love and forgiveness which the later Gospels of Luke and Mathew etc., did not emphasize. The impact of this, and the experiences he had in the Vatican just before getting posted to this post influenced him, perhaps unconsciously. It reflected in his outlook towards building his flock by properly performing the convertion and baptizing rituals. Now his sermons were covering more of spiritual aspect of the life of Jesus and the love for humanity, rather than emphasizing on the Dogma of humanity's sinful birth. There was no supervision of his work as the nearest Diocese was thousands of miles away and he got away with the freedom he took just like a nun in Calcutta, India was taking and serving the humanity in the footsteps of the Savior.
As his work among the Tribes was growing and bearing fruits of slow movement towards assimilation of indigenous people in the modern world, his dissatisfaction towards the Church's handling of requests for more funds also was growing. More often than not, he would receive letters demanding explanations for the money spent for books and school supplies and not enough demand for the literature related to Church and Bible. In his mind, he was doing his job of presenting the universal message of Jesus and then leaving things as they were so as to give that choice of conversion to those who wanted to work in the church. He used no special pressures on anyone and tried to understand their faith and the vision of nature as the embodiment of life, the life-force living around them and the divinity that needed no special actions from them, except to love and respect the God's gifts to all living creatures. They took what they needed and in return, protected the God's world surrounding them. What need do they have for a Pope, Bishop or a Priest? He questioned himself. Who was there when Jesus was giving the Sermon on the Mount? Slowly but surely, he was falling out of step with his mother Church- the very institute that had initiated him in his childhood to perform the Holy Duties of the Lord, neatly packaged into a fail-proof and liturgically sound modus operandi that had come through two thousand years of history of saving the souls.
It was in the seventh year of his service to that region when things started to become difficult at the beginning and physically rough in just a short time. Sounds of heavy machinery began to come closer and closer and then one day he received a letter from the Diocese of Sau Paulo asking him to attend a meeting related to his work of past few years. It was a brief letter without a clue about the nature or the attendees of the meeting. He tossed it in the burning log in his cottage. Another three months passed and one day, a native young man came to him with a hand-delivered envelop with Brazilian Government's marking.
It was a letter he never thought he will read in his life. It was a request sounding order to vacate the premises within ninety days because the territory was leased to a Brazilian-US conglomerate for the development of entire region and to implement the resettlement of the indigenous citizens of Brazil as a part of a welfare scheme approved by the government and UN agency responsible for them.
There was nothing he could do but explain the situations to his friends and companions of past seven years that their life was going to go topsy turvy. With the news of violation of their sacred river, uprooting of surrounding trees and destruction of habitats of those animals who have been giving up their lives to feed them, they were, all confused in the beginning but then they got together in the meeting hut of their villages and made a choice. Overnight they were gone. The meager belongings and having no permanent structures; they could just get in their canoes and move with the river as their ancestors had done ever since the civilized Europeans had set their foot upon their lands.
Francis was devastated as he was preparing to fight for them and was planning to appeal the highest authorities in any organization including the Pope in Vatican. Now, there were none left for his church to save their souls but then, they were not important human beings after all to anyone else but to him. Wearily he went to Sau Paulo and was received cordially but with some sort of disdain and indifference to his cause. Three days letter he was given the marching orders to move to that small parish in New Mexico, USA. The seed of resentment towards the church's authority planted in the last days of his stay in the Vatican was turning into a sapling now. What he saw in that scheme for resettlement was a political expediency and that made him sick in his heart. The end-result was that he rebelled against the church authorities who he thought were not listening to His Master's voice. At last he had stormed out of the parsonage on that fateful night and that's where this story began.
Here in that efficiency apartment in Rio, he was pondering about the reviews and recommendations he was to make to the very same authorities he was planning to appeal earlier. He had gone through those reports on the environmental impacts etc., but he had read nothing mentioned about the people who left him and vanished in the thin air overnight. He had nothing to add to that report and wanted no part of that hypocrisy.
"I was sent to save their souls; I couldn't even save their way of life. What recommendations can I give? Go after them, hunt them down, and spread diseases like the Conquistadors of the past?! No sir; I thought I gave them my faith but in reality, I am the one who received from them what they could freely give- love for each other, innocence, respect for the living spirit surrounding us, and it is they who taught me how to love like my Master loved Thomas and Mary Magdalene. They saved my soul."
He picked up the Gnostic Gospel, the book about Nag Hammadi findings by Professor Elaine Pagels, opened page [xx] and read a quote of Jesus:
"I am not your master. Because you have drunk, you have become drunk from the bubbling stream which I have measured out. ... He who will drinks from my mouth will become as I am: I myself shall become he, and things that are hidden will be revealed to him."
Francis let the book slide out of his hand and sat motionless. He was reflecting on his life's journey and accessing the merits of his work. "Did I drink from the mouth of my Master?" He questioned himself but couldn't get a satisfactory answer from his alter ego. "What does He mean by 'the bubbling stream which I have measured out?' He began to ponder on that point.
" I have not found an answer for this anywhere in the Old or New Testament but then, how could anyone find answer there? The whole book is filled with the parables- stories, do's, don't and repentance and forgiving for the Sins; all designed for the gentiles and no explanation or interpretations of the divine Gnosis as if reserved only for the special apostolic group. There can be no other meaning in that statement but a reference to the unselfish and pure love for each other and that is the bubbling stream the Master referred to and I think it exists in every heart; just have to find it and with the help of my Master, I will!" With that thought, he made up his mind and got out of bed to get ready to go to his office.
| Author Notes | The story and the novel itself is written not for hurting anybody's religious sentiments but for presenting another side of human moral crisis. It is about the message of love, tolerance and respect for others who are different in someways. |
By Niyuta
At the stroke of nine in the morning, Francis entered the UN office of Human Rights Commission. The representatives of Arch Dioceses, the Brazilian Ministry of Tribal affairs and the Ministry of Development arrived shortly. Francis had kept himself locked up in his office with instruction to his Administrative Assistance not to let anyone disturb him. He did not wish to come out until the beginning of the conference. He had reviewed the Plans submitted by the consultants hired by both the Government and Industry Association offices. There was nothing different than the previous plans of resettlements and most so called, " new approaches" were nothing more than rehashing of the old strategies with few more minor but important sounding concessions made like the '10 years moratorium' on deforesting and additional acreage to be brought into the reforesting schemes which were not identified in the previous maps of Amazonian jungles.
He knew the area where his parish had been and the people he had lived with and served very well. He was convinced that the industrial sector would begin deforesting the area several hundred miles away from the sectors coming under the ten years moratorium now but after that, they would begin in the protected parts also. The wait and persist is the game he recognized right away. The indigenous population in ten years would lose their habitats, first at the currently approved areas and later, in a decade, would lose in the protected acreage as well. They will get assimilated in the modern world was the premise upon which the whole plan was based. It had no input from the people who were supposed to get assimilated in the modern world or, preferably, just vanish in the thin air without a tress as has happened historically all over the world.
"The meek will inherit world!" My foot; Francis exclaimed in disgust. He knew there was no one in that conference, including the Church, really interested in those uncivilized, primitive people, still living off the land, rivers and the forest. They were seen as, 'mostly nonconvertible souls', living in the semi-animal state and conditions by their own choice. "You can bring them to The Lord but can't get the jungle out of them" he had read the remark in a copy of a report from a Bishop, on their lack of spiritual progress, when he had visited the parish Francis was managing in the past. He wanted no part of it and his position being that of advisor, really had very little impact on the final outcome; that was just the lip service for making it look like all parties involved in the projects, and had bent backward to accommodate the native culture, protect the environments and at the same time improve economy of the region. They had mastered the art of deception and were experts in doing just that; having done same thing in many rain forests of the world stretching from Indonesia to Equatorial Africa and the Himalayan Forest belt. In the battle between the corporate greed and the planet's environment, it is the greed that prevailed over all facts and figures projecting the hastening demise of planet earth as the supporter of life.
Francis knew he was wasting time but wanted to understand where the latest planned activities would commence and also to know if the Vatican had taken in consideration his pleas for not supporting the Brazilian interest which had the backing of the Bishop in Sau Paulo. He had typed and kept a resignation letter for delivery to the regional office located in Reo. He was planning to get out from under the bureaucratic UN office and the so called pragmatic approach of the church more interested in pleasing the Brazilian politicians than working for the meek and marginalized future inheritors of the planet as the Master had prophesied on the Mount in a far, far away land, a long, long time ago.
The conference began as planned on time and Francis sat there listening carefully what the officials of different outfits were eloquently speaking and presenting various charts, photographs and slides. At last his turn came to speak and he rose from his seat and spoke standing on the spot instead of walking to the podium.
" I read all the reports forwarded to me previously and also carefully listened to the presentations. I, with clear conscience cannot endorse this scheme as reported and presented here. My reasons are:
1. There is no consideration given to the needs of the natives who inherited the land before any and all so called civilized men arrived.
2. They have not asked you to interfere in their lives and bring changes to their ways and surroundings.
3. I see no benefits coming to them which are neither listed nor guaranteed here.
There was a pin dropped silence momentarily when he sat down without adding another word.
The convener of that conference; a Brazilian Bureaucrat rose from the head of the long oval conference table, cleared his throat and said,
" Well; that concludes the meeting now that we have heard from Mr. Mendez and we already have the go ahead from all parties concerned, we will begin the final preparation plans immediately and I will let you know when and where we will be meeting."
Before he could finish the usual formalities of closing the conference, Francis had left the room and in half an hour he was out on the road to his apartment. He had given the resignation letter to the secretary to forward it to the appropriate authorities.
He reached to his apartment and began packing a small suitcase. It was already half past noon and he had to catch a train for Sau Paulo as planned with Pascu to visit his family. He got out his formal attire which he used strictly for the office business and wore his overused duck-back, white trouser and light blue shirt. Then he grabbed the dark blue sport coat which he had tossed on the chair on the evening he returned from that accidental but a fateful meeting with his brother. An envelope fell out of the jacket and he bent down to pick up; that was that letter Senior Eduardo Giovanni, left for him and was hand delivered by the apartment building's page and he had simply ignored. He showed it back in the same pocket of his sport coat it fell from and dashed out to the railroad station.
After he settled down in his chair, he pulled the envelop out and opened the letter in such a careless manner that anyone observing him would have thought it as a correspondence of minor importance but it was not. He began to read and suddenly straightened himself up from the,' sprawled out on the seat' position. The salutation part of the letter grabbed his attention instantly; it read:
" My dear Friar Mendez:
I am sure you will be astounded by the way this letter is addressed, however, this is the proper way to address an Ordained Priest, which I know for sure, you indeed are.
I was going to speak to you about this matter today after the musical soiree but you left abruptly before the intermission and no one expected you not returning back to the box. I had sensed your discomfort with the group and also was aware of bit of apprehension among some of the members of our circle. They were, in general have been feeling that you were a Roman Catholic Padre, who for some unknown reasons, was trying hard to bond with them. Although you did not wear any priestly habiliment, you couldn't shake off your mannerism and decor. This made them uncomfortable when you tried to be their friend, in a sort of intimate way and few thought you may be one of those sent to perform the exorcism type of rite like deprogramming efforts, some overzealous pastors undertook in the US and elsewhere. Only I knew the facts and I couldn't divulge them to anyone.
My reason to address you formally is this. By all accounts, you are not disqualified by the Vatican as an ordained priest nor you ever resigned from the Priestly Duties. I wrote to the Vatican office managing these affairs after you arrived in Rio and they took good number of months to answer my inquiries but the advantage of their delay was that they also forwarded the correspondence between your family members and the said office. Among those letters there was one from Senior Pascal Mendez address to me. It was about two years old. A Goan family from New Mexico, US, had written to The Church officials in Panjim, your birthplace, and asked them to locate your relatives who they suspected may still be living in that town. A retired Priest, Father DeMelo was in touch with the family members and to make it a long story short, they tracked your brother Pascal living in Sao Paulo. Somehow, he wrote to me, thinking I was still part of the administration while I was here in Reo. Since I resigned from the Church, they did not have knowledge of my whereabouts, hence the letter remained in the 'Dead Letter' box.
I received the forwarded information the day we were visiting the 'Cidade da Musica Artes' and I located Pascal and spoke to him about your presence here, with me in Rio and he insisted on coming right away. So I told him our evening program and asked him to join us. He arrived just before the intermission but you were gone. I gave him your address and telephone number which he took from me but rushed out thinking that he saw a person leaving the building when he was getting out of the cab and thought probably was you. I have no way to know if you are connected or not so I came to see you but you were not at home and therefore I wrote this letter to you with pascal's phone number and address.
I will be leaving for Rome day after tomorrow. I have wrapped up my business here in Rio and am planning to retire at my ancestral home, outside the City of Rome. I hope we will meet again before I leave. If not, I will get in touch with you; I have your home address and phone number. It was a great comfort for me that we crossed each other path and to great extent I feel relieved to see my action due to error of judgement and a colossal failure as an ordained priest, committed when you were so young, did not hurt you in the manner I had imagined. I just want you to know that I then loved you sincerely and still love you but only as a one human being should love another.
If you ever need any assistance, financial or otherwise, please let me know. You will always have a place in my heart and in my home. God bless you and give you all the success you deserve. If you chose to resume your responsibilities of an Ordain Minister of the Roman Catholic Church, all you have to do is to pick up where you left off. You are for all practical and divine purpose a true Shepherd of the Lord. Good luck."
He read the letter again, this time very slowly; lingering on a word here, stopping at a phrase there; he seems to be envisioning things and events actually happening to him. At last he took a deep breath and let go a sigh and said to himself," Father Mendez, I'm Father Mendez" and then fell into the realm of deep thinking as if he was hypnotized.
In that second class caboose, there was no one to disturb his meditative state. Apparently, his mind was wrestling with his self-drawn picture of himself and the picture of a fully habited Father Mendez performing wedding ceremonies. It was not the place, nor the religious act that was in conflict with the reality; the conflict he was trying to deal with was that, the two individual he was binding in the matrimonial bonds in front of The Father, The Son and The Holy Ghost; they were of the same sex; they were those two American young men he had met on the restaurant on the beach.
The train had pulled into the station and most passengers had disembarked the train at least ten minutes ago but Francis was still locked up in his own strife filled world of that -top to bottom-imposed morality; one represented by the collar wearing Father Mendez and Francis, a man who was aware of his ardent desire to walk in the path of his Savior and serve those for whom He died on the cross; not as a cast aside abomination, but as a pure and self-sacrificing servant who is loved by the Master and not a despised gay priest, exiled away from the civilized world among the so called savages who have no knowledge of sin, the pearly gate and the heaven but are at peace with each other and self without any help from the civilized world.
"Oh my God! What in the name of Holy Mother you are doing? Lost in the meditations and I am running from one compartment to other to find where you may be!"
It was Pascu with an alarming voice, trying to get his kid brother to step outside from the space he was floating in at that moment. Francis snapped out of the trance, pushed the letter in his coat's inner pocket, grabbed his little suitcase and stepped outside the train. There was a calm and serene look on his face and that sort of alerted Pascu. His euphoria in seeing his brother again was dampened with the observation of his brother's visage. " It doesn't look like all is well with my celebrated brother", thought crossed his mind and he caught Francis' elbow and led him out of the station without speaking a word.
| Author Notes | The story of Father Francis is not a story for promotion of any cause. It is simply a story about the human conscience, diversity in the Sex orientation and the superimposed morality. It gives only one message that anyone can follow his or her faith with a sincere and honest way without getting entangled in the web of morality the others set for you. |
By Niyuta
Pascu and Francis had not exchanged a word since they left the train and walked towards the parking lot. There was a distinct lack of relativity between them; as if they had no common grounds like, similar language or culture, which often initiates a breezy conversation; starting with any innocuous subject like weather or an inquiry about one's health or the current journey. The warmth and affection both brothers had displayed towards each other in Rio had all but vanished and the primary reason for that was Francis' internal struggle with the demons he was unable to slay.
With all the indoctrination in the RC faith, its associated training and his own research in the subject of divinity, he could not come up with any definition of his own status; one that would be at the least, be acceptable to the crowd he was scheduled to meet, without him betraying the truth that he and Eduardo alone shared with the Almighty God. What am I going to be this evening? A Father Francis Mendez, simply Francis-brother of Pascal or something not yet defined? That paralyzing numbness once had overcome his soul in the little town in New Mexico from where he had dashed out of his Church into the wilderness, seem to have returned. Then he had a free hand to bolt out of the door without a second thought but now, that option was not even plausible, leave aside any possibility of repeating the event. He was sitting in his brother's car and heading into the eye of his own, private and self-created emotional tornado.
Pascu eased into the horrendous city traffic easily and headed towards the highway leading to the suburb. Pascu, Rosetta Mendez lived with their two children in Guarulhos which was a good one hour trip from the Sau Paulo city. As they approached the highway, Pascu was getting relaxed as the traffic was thinning out and driving had begun to be less intense. When he turned his face to see if he could guess what could be the matter troubling his kid brother, he found Francis still preoccupied with his battle of conscience. As a practicing Psychiatrist, Pascu recognized the syndromes and refrained from addressing him. However, he was observing him with occasional glances and from the corner of his eye. He realized that Francis was physically sitting next to him but was far away from the reality; lost in some other world that needed to be discovered.
By the time he rolled down onto the exit ramp and came to a red traffic light, it was necessary to bring him back into his car as their villa was just round the corner and Pascu's family was waiting there to receive their honorable relative. Gently he called his brother's name and reached for his limp arm clutching the edge of his seat.
" Francis; we are approaching home; you have not uttered a word since you stepped outside from the railcar. What is bothering you; can you share with me? Rosetta and Children are awaiting your arrival eagerly and they will be disappointed if you remain in the same state of mind when we reach home."
With the touch and the speech Francis' mind stirred and that began the thawing process' A weak smile slowly appeared on his face. In a low voice he asked in Portuguese,
" " Quo longe estamos da sua casa?"
"Just in ten minutes we will be home" Pascu responded in English.
"Pode irs compras em algum lugar? Eu no trouxe nenhum presente para minha irmem lei ou as crianas."
Perhaps Francis was not completely out of his private storm yet and was still talking in the language he was communicating with the Brazilian officials in his head during that trip.
Pascu persistently replied in English to try and break, what he thought could be a borderline schizophrenic symptoms his brother was displaying.
"You don't need to go to shopping now, your sister in law and children are not expecting anything beyond your prayers and blessings; so don't worry about going to shopping center now; we will be late for the supper."
" Oh I see; you are right, maybe I will take them out tomorrow and then, I wouldn't know what to buy in the first place." Then he laughed heartily as if it was some sort of humorous statement he made.
Pascu was relieved but as a clinician he had recognized that his brother was in need of a complete evaluation, physical as well as psychic; there was a possibility that he had inherited some sort of disorder from his Portuguese father. Francis was his stepbrother as his mother had confessed at her death bed that all three children she bore were from two different men and that, long before her first wedding, she had made promised to herself that no seeds of any low, uneducated riffraff were going to fertilize her noble eggs and the sailor man she had married was just that; so she cheated on him systematically. She planned each of her pregnancy on a schedule that coincided with her husband's arrival. When he arrived, she had managed to get the mouth of her uterus firmly shut with a child shaping up in her womb and then she breast fed the kids until he left, just to prevent any accidental pregnancy.
Francis was the son of the man she married after her marriage to the Sailor was annulled and the first three; Pascu, Emanuel and their sister Alice, were children of a man of collar who visited them regularly. When this knowledge was imparted to him, Pascal was already doing his internship in Psychiatric Medicine in Lisbon, Emanuel was an Engineer in Mumbai, married to a local gal and worked for the Shipping Corporation of India. Alice, his sister was married to an Englishman. She, with her two children was well settled in England. He saw no point in getting upset about it and had shrugged the whole thing off his shoulders. After all Frankie Mendez the sailor man was never a fatherly character to them and they had learned to tolerate and loath him just because their mother had raised them to believe that they were all destined to be important individuals and he was nothing but nuisance and a drag to their progress in life. It all worked out perfectly as she had planned her life and after the confession, she died with a smile on her face and with a peaceful heart. Morality, can be made out of any act described in any religious book as immoral; he had then concluded. It is the end results that must be moral in a practical way and also be useful to the society; life often demands that. Instead of having raggedy and riffraff children running after the hogs in Goan streets and gullies, the ambitious mother chose a path that was easy to walk on and offered lots of means all along the journey, available to raise a set of superior humans. Is there anything wrong? He questioned himself. Did he also not marry Rosetta because of her estate and powerful family connections, and the best chance of raising good, healthy children, instead of that notion of love and romance?
He did not judge his mother harshly nor questioned the morality of his father who was also an ordained priest. Survival of the fittest is dependent on having excellent genes being distributed and received; that is the way nature has set the equation for perpetuating the species. He didn't feel any need for him to discuss this secret with Francis; at least not now he thought and pulled the car in his garage.
When they entered the living room, Rosetta came forward and welcomed him with a big smile on her face and genuine affection in her eyes. She was an attractive woman with whitish complexion, dark hair and delicate face; rather on a plus size as women tend to be in that part of the world after two child births. He gave her a slight hug and a kisses on both the cheeks.
"You are so handsome Francis, much more than you look in high school photo; I am so glad to meet you. Now I met everyone in the Pascal's family".
With that introduction, Francis forgot his troubles and came around to his usual gregarious nature. Getting accepted with so much warmth must have triggered a positive emotional reaction and for the time being, all his negative thoughts disappeared somewhere inside his mind's vault that no one else had tried to open before.
Soon two youngsters, twelve year old Mark and ten year old Silvia came forward and were introduced to him. He became chatting with them instantly as he would have done after the Mass or before the Sunday school. They too were drawn to him because of his relaxed and friendly appearance so much different than their Parish priest who constantly admonished them or was always in an official moods.
They knew he was a Father in a faraway place in the jungles of Brazil and wanted to know all about his adventures there as if he was the 'Tarzan of the Apes'. Pascu was observing his brother and making mental notes of the swing of his moods. It was getting late and they had to eat the special dinner and Rosetta stepped in and announced:
"Come on children, you have school tomorrow, it is eight o'clock; eat your supper and off you go to your rooms. Uncle Francis is going to be with us for a long time and you will get him for as long as you want this weekend."
Then she held Francis' hand and led him to the guest room and said:
"Don't be late and come for the cocktail as soon as you are freshened up."
He nodded his head and entered the room. In half an hour he came out with a fresh face and changed cloths. Children were finishing their supper and she was busy with them. He moved into living room and began inspecting the photographs neatly mounted on the walls and in the frames placed on a grand piano. Most of them were family and children's events caught on a digital camera, probably by Pascu, as he was missing in the pictures. As he moved on from one wall to another, he came upon a black and white photograph of his mother standing next to a Portuguese man sporting a well groom beard and handlebar mustache, holding a hat with ostrich feathers and good number of ribbons and medals pinned on his tunic. He recognized him at once. He was one of the senior officials of the colonial administration of Goa who used to come to their home on certain days. She was dressed in a bridle suit and in spite of her middle age, looked ravishingly beautiful and radiant in that photograph. Francis had no idea his mother was married to anyone else but to one who thought was his father, Frankie, who was always at sea. Staring at it, he was trying to figure out in his mind the time frame when that photo might have been taken.
At the same moment, Pascu had come into the living room with two glasses and a bottle of Scotch. He saw the puzzled look on his brother's face and said:
"She got married two years after you left Rome and we lost the contact. Dad had died when a Panamanian registered vessel he was on, sunk in a storm in the South pacific sometime after he left Goa; we found it out after almost one year, I think it was in nineteen sixty nine. You may remember the man she married-he was one of the Senior Civil Servants during the Portuguese Administration; he used to visit our place many times; a friend of Father DeMelo."
" Yes I do remember him; did she move to Lisbon with him?" Francis asked.
"Not right away, but soon after the property rights and other business were completed they moved. I was already there in the University doing my Medical education that time. Let's have a drink before we sit for a dinner; Rosetta goes to work early, she works for the Portuguese Consulate office in Sau Paulo. I will be free after twelve tomorrow. We can go out for lunch and then we will do the catching up with the lost times of our life. We will have all the time we want until children come home by four PM."
The evening passed without anything specifically happening and three chatted about their Goa days, Rosetta was curious about that life and their youth but then how much one can tell to anyone about one's life that was not shared? Soon she got bored and excused herself to retire.
When they were alone, Pascu delicately and tactfully brought the conversation back to Francis' childhood and suddenly, Francis raised the question of why and how he was groomed to be a man of faith during his late adolescent years when not many efforts were ever made, to get Pascu or Emanuel even to attend the Sunday school regularly. "Mother was not so keen on anything else except our education and milking the last Rupee out of her clients and labor alike; then why I was chosen to become a Priest? Do you have any idea; you always used to hang around Father DeMelo and mother when they were in conference; you ought to know, I assume!"
Pascu laughed and spoke:
" I can't believe you were that observant to notice what I was doing. Well, before I answer your question truthfully, I want you to promise me that you won't take an offense to what I am going to tell you brother. Is that a deal?"
Francis nodded his head in agreement and Pascu began:
" If you recall, during that period of your life, you were learning the Greco-Roman wrestling to take part in the annual tournaments and then you were pulled out of the team for the lack of necessary skills, contrary to the fact that you were the best in your weight and class." Then he took a pause and looked at his brother who was sitting across the dining table with his customary pose of cupping the chin in his right hand and resting it on the table in a sort of leaning forward manner. Seeing no reaction on Francis' visage and his eyes in a fixed point lock, he hesitated to continue the discourse.
Suddenly, Francis came out of his stupor like stance and said: "Go on, I recall that incidence, I was in my tenth grade then, but what of it? What that has to do with what I asked you?"
There was sharpness in his tone as if he was anticipating the words which would sound like it was a disgrace to be pulled out of the team for the reasons he knew very well, were related to his sexuality and not the lack of skills or poor performances.
Pascu wished he had not brought up that but there was no dodging or backing out of that discussion and he decided to put his cards on the table and let his brother know that his mother was briefed by the family Priest and school team's coach.
"It was Father De Melo's opinion that the tendency obviously seen in you to remain clinging onto the other boys' bodies, may grow out of hand and lead to the ways prohibited by the God and only remedy to cleanse it out of one's mind was to put the person in the service of the Lord God and to that, his suggestion was to put you through the training for the exalted and admired position of a layman leading to the full priesthood. You wouldn't be of any use to any woman in the present status he had pointed out and to avoid the gossips and disgrace to her name, she agreed to make a Priest out of you, even though she was hoping to see your fair children with blue eyes in the future."
There was a pin drop silence in the room and Francis was frozen in his seat with his head dropped on his chest. A large clock in the corner was breaking the stillness of the ambiance with its tick, tack, sound. Pascal sat there observing his would be patient's face for any sign of distress, anger or expression that could give away an indication of an approaching gale. What happened then surprised him.
Slowly, Francis raised his head, stood up, looked at his brother's face and said in a calm and well controlled voice:
"Pour me a double of that fine brandy Pascu. I feel like celebrating. Now that you know who I am, I feel free and a big weight is lifted off my chest. Thanks for telling me. I wished I was told this before when I came out of the seminary; it would have saved me from the burden of Hippocratic Oath and the hypocrisy that goes with it. I suppose your wife and my siblings also know about this, but then, frankly it doesn't matter. It has made decision making about my life, easy now. I see my path clearly, without any qualms about the Chasing of the Wind."
Pascu was calm and professional and yet he couldn't suppress his emotions and tears rolled down his cheeks. Slowly he got up from his seat and walked towards his brother with opened arms. He embraced him tight and cried softly on brother's chest. They remained in that position for some time and it was Francis who spoke first:
"Aren't you getting me that drink?" I think we have lot to catch up tomorrow, isn't it?"
They toasted each others health, gulped the drink and retired for the night.
| Author Notes | It is a story of human struggles to understand who we are and how we understand our religion and its messages. It is not intended to promoting or sponsoring any causes, doctrines nor it is written to denigrate any one's faith. It is a story of how message of Jesus is understood and felt by individual who happens to be a Roman catholic Priest. |
By Niyuta
Lying in the bed, Francis began to think about all that had transpired in the first evening he spent with his older brother. One by one all unimportant events and conversations got discarded and only the most poignant points with the historical significance remained and he began recalling the words and phrases in mind and started analyzing them so as to ascertain if there was any of the proverbial, 'in between the line' meanings lurking behind them.
A disturbed psyche it seems always holds a defensive posture as if the world surrounding it is nothing but a hostile snake pit. His own feelings and the understandings of what constitutes a permissible love and what is a prohibited one was increasingly becoming closer to the gnostic spirituality of Thomas-a fundamentally opposite doctrine to the writings of 'The Pentateuch', as well as 'The New Testament'. His sojourn with the Amazonian Tribes had removed him from the mainstream Roman Catholic liturgy, the baptism and the Apostolic points of views. It was replaced by his deep felt and personalized love for the Savior, akin to the relationship between Jesus, Thomas and Mary Magdalene. His heart would swell with emotions of piety and love just by concentrating his thoughts in a meditative state on the Christ and tears would roll down his cheeks and he would weep without any external reasons. The emotional intimacy he had developed with his Master also was frowned by the Vatican authorities from very beginning of the foundation of Roman Catholic Church and the void between the devotee and the Lord grew as the centuries past and the power of Church and her officials grew with leaps and bound. Cesar Constantin became the first Bishop of Rome
The Master, as Son of God had to be approached with a proper and well prescribed manner where the vehicle to get to him was the Mother Church and the authority to take a mortal to Him, was vested in the properly Ordained Priests, Bishops and the Pope. No one could reach Him like one reaches his best friend casually. When Francis entered the Seminary, he had no qualms or doubts about the appropriateness of this arrangement but then that time came in his life and he was sent to bring the savages unto the Lord's domain and save their souls from damnation of eternity.
When he reached his post what he found there was totally different than what was described by the individuals before him in the reports submitted to the Vatican and to the Brazilian government. He found a society that was totally childlike and innocent to a fault. He discovered that the secret of their harmonious life was hidden in their love for nature and each other. They had no conflicts of any sort and had actually devised a system of settling disputes without anger or violence. Their needs were simple and they owned nothing individually except what they used in daily intercourse of a collective living. They had neither crimes nor the desire to own anything. In fact they inherited the earth in the sense, Christ proclaimed on the Mountain. Without knowing Him they were his true followers. What souls then he was to save? He had wondered.
Francis took out his notebook from the little duffle bag he had brought with him and opened a page that was marked and read a passage from Elaine Pagles book, 'The Gnostic Gospels'. It was a segment of an address to Thomas by Jesus:
"... I am the knowledge of the truth. So while you accompany me, although you do not understand (it), you already have come to know, and you will be called 'the one who knows himself.' For whoever has not known himself has known nothing, but whoever has known himself has simultaneously achieved knowledge about the depth of all things."
He lingered on the last statement and reread it and softly murmured, " I have known myself all along and was made to believe that I am not worthy of loving my Savior but I am like Thomas; one who knows himself. I will not fear of getting discovered who I am. I am free." With that thought, he became peaceful and fell asleep.
When he woke up, it was past ten in the morning. The heavy satin curtains on the windows had kept sunlight out and room was dark and bed was comfortable. He had not slept like this in a long, long time so remained in the bed for another hour or so thinking about his future plans. A family life with all the trappings of a comfortable living with his brother's family was available to him now to heal all his wounds and end the sufferings but then, there was his deep rooted love and devotion for the Savior who he believed earnestly, had in return also loved him, just the way He loved Thomas and Mary Magdalene and then, that knowledge of 'the depth of all things' was given to him, has a divine purpose. I see it clearly now.
"I have to go to them who are facing extinction in the jungles of Amazon and do what so ever is needed to stop the destruction of their habitats and way of life and prevent their forcible conversion to this banal, greedy and Godless modern life. I don't need any Bishop's permission to do what my Savior said on that Mountain is the duty of every person who's to follow Him."
Peace replaced the agony of his heart and he felt strong and decisive. He could have sat in that contemplative state for a long time but then he heard a car pulling in the garage bellow his bedroom. He got up and went into the bathroom.
When he stepped out of his room, he saw Pascu speaking on the phone with someone in Portuguese. He was talking to a caregiver, giving instructions about medications. By the time Francis got down the steps, he finished the instructions and ended the call and turned around to face his brother. Seeing him approaching, Francis opened his arms to hug him and with a bright and engaging smile he just did that and spoke for the first time in his mother tongue, 'Konkani':
"Ma ka zope pale mast aaili, khay jawache re jevanas? (I got very restful, deep sleep indeed, where are we going to eat ?)
Pascu understood the meaning but couldn't recall appropriate vocabulary quickly as he had not spoken or heard his mother tongue since he left Goa three decade ago. So he responded in English:
" You indeed look rested and your face is all bright and as far as lunch is concerned, pick your choice; we could do, Goan, Japanese or Brazilian."
"Let's do Goan; do you think we could get 'Masala Bangda' ( Spicy Mackerel dish) like mom used to make with lots of garlic, coconut milk, green chilies and dried Coccum fruit skins?"
"Of course but you will have to settle for a Spanish Mackerel and not the type you get in the Indian waters, besides that I am not sure you can get Coccum skins here. We will check it out; I know the family that owns the restaurant."
Brothers drove around for a while and Pascu was pleased to see this fresh Avatar of his brother, however as an experienced Psychiatrist he knew that the mood could be ephemeral and with a slightest provocations, could bring out the bipolar personality. Skillfully he kept the conversation on topics which were current and of impersonal nature. When they reached the restaurant, Pascu deliberately did not mention the Priesthood of his brother when he introduced Francis to few folks he knew. The lunch was satisfactory, the mood was jovial, beer was cold and weather was good and they decided to go for a walk on the beach.
Since his meeting in Rio, Pascu was planning to bring Francis in the secret of their paternity. He was confident that as a Priest, well trained and experienced to handle all the negative eventualities affecting the parishioners' souls and minds, Father Francis would be able to handle it stoically. However, a glimpse of his actual state of mind he got when he met him on the train. Now he was not sure about it and decided to postpone the plan for a future date and after ensuring that his kid brother's mind was stable and strong enough to take the shock.
Like to children, they enjoyed the afternoon without a care in the world. At last they sat down on a bench and Pascu inquired of his brother:
"I hope you are planning to move to Sau Paulo permanently. You have a family here and perhaps, our church could use a Padre to manage the affairs. You get your own place if you wish, you have the financial resources to do what so ever you like with your estate."
" My estate and financial resources?" Francis raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Where did that come from? The property in Goa ought to be yours and Emanuel's; is it not?
With that discussion springing up from nowhere, the situation became very awkward and inadvertently, Pascu opened a can of worms. The estate he spoke about was not their ancestral home in Goa-in India, but a sizable property in Lisbon, Madrid and Rome. All of which came to Francis from his biological father but known to him as a step-father the Count Alphonso. The ancestral property probably would have gone to three brothers and may be to sister also, but the Count's estate was willed to his only child, known to the world as Francis Christo Mendez; a RC priest.
Quick thinking made him realize that the information of mother leaving all that wealth to him would have made no sense at all and in reality, she had died two years before the Count had passed away. So, passing of wealth from husband to wife had not happened and in their situation, estate going to son directly from the father, was the true story. How to explain all this to Francis without telling him why a step father would pass the estate only to one of the four children of his second wife was just not possible and then, there were legal issues and probate documents showing the relationship etc. He was in a bind now.
The long pause in answering the question put Francis on alert as individuals having suffered remain on guard all the time; he too was apprehensive to find out what had transpired during his long absence from the civilized world of doctors and lawyers.
Luckily Rosita called at the same moment and rescued her husband from that developing crisis. She had planned a quiet dinner with few friends and it was time they should be home to help her organize the soiree.
"I will tell you all about it as soon as we get an opportunity to sit down and go over documents etc., but we must get home ASAP, unless you wish to see the other side of your sister in law" he said jokingly and then that subject was forgotten for time being and they headed home.
| Author Notes | This novel deals with a sensitive issue of gay priest and the RC church. It is not supporting any cause nor it is written to disrespect any religion or faith. It is based on the True teaching of Jesus-Love, compassion and understanding the message hidden in the spiritual writings of Gnostic Gospel. |
By Niyuta
Rosita Mendez had been waiting for an opportunity to know Francis- her brother in law who had arrived from the wilderness of Amazon region. She knew his existence recently when her husband, Dr. Pascal (Pascu for the intimate relations), mentioned him after receiving a note from the departing Director of Native Amazonian Brazilians Affairs Bureau. Francis had replaced him and via that correspondence, the Mendez brothers had come together in Rio.
When she learned about her brother in law's journey to the Priesthood, she was delighted. As a devout Catholic, a Priest in the family was a matter of pride to her. Pascu did not say much about his youngest brother; at least not as much as his two other siblings. She knew Emmanuel settled in Mumbai-India and Alice in UK. The two brothers with their family came together at Alice's place in London every third year for Christmas.
They took turns for celebration of holidays. Rosita by nature had a motherly and bit possessive outlook towards all who came in her orbit. They all loved her very much as she never failed hugging and planting kisses on their cheeks, especially the children. Her gifts were always generous and cooking lavishly rich. It did not matter what the venue of their Christmas celebration was; she took over the kitchen. Francis being unreachable most of the times, they remembered him only at the thanksgiving prayer at the commencement of the Christmas dinner. She had seen his photos and noticed his extraordinary good looks. She wished he were with them so she could smother him with an elder sisterly love. "Such a cute baby he is!" She had remarked to her husband when he had walked through the family history when they got married. Now the baby brother -in -law was in her house, so far she had no opportunity to have him all to herself. Perhaps she was curious about him and his life experiences and that evening she was hoping to set up something where she and Francis would be alone.
When the brothers returned home, there were messages for Dr. Pascal waiting for him. They were routine calls for prescription refills and some from the clinics about his availability the next day. He went to the office in basement to make the calls and Rosita got her opportunity to speak to Francis as she had hoped. She brought a glass of cold beer for him and a Tom Collins for self and sat across the recliner he was sitting on.
"Where did you two go? Painting the town red, I suppose." She asked and answered own question.
With her approach, he became bit uncomfortable. Sort of embarrassed for displaying the- Joie d' vivre on his face, which supposed to be without the mirth. After all, he was an ordained RC Priest and in his case, not accustomed to dealing with women in such a close quarters. Seeing his discomfiture, she extended her arm and grabbed his trembling, hand. It went limp and she gently let it go.
"Oh my, my! You sure have forgotten how to be around women, dear Francis. Look, you are so uncomfortable with me. Did you not have women in your congregations?" She put him on the spot.
In a stuttering and apologetic voice, Francis responded in Portuguese, "na verdade eu no tenho sido ao redor do mundo civilizado" (indeed I have not been around civilized world").
"I guess it will be up to me to bring you back in one, brother," she laughingly said to him and took charge of her protoge. We will spend all day together tomorrow. Sao Paulo is not Rio but we have some interesting places to spend time. Children will be in school until 3 PM and we will go shopping, have lunch with my friends and return before they arrive from the school. Sounds interesting?" She, in one breath set the agenda for their day together and assumed he had acquiesced. Poor Francis had no experience in dealing with the situation such as this one where a feminine force of persuasion was stronger than the male ability of maneuvering out of a tight corner. He simply surrendered with a weak smile and a polite acceptance. Happy with her accomplishment, Rosita got up and carried her drink with her to see where the supper was as she saw Pascu returning to the living room.
Seeing his wife vanishing behind the door between the dining and the living room, his brother in a frozen state, Pascu, instinctively realized that the brother Francis was ambushed. His socially competing sister-in- law obviously was going to put on a display such a handsome trophy somewhere, to impress Rosita's friends and other- not so friendly snobs.
Not knowing how Francis would react to such a gathering of curious women wanting to find a flaw in the Rosita's prized possession, and thereby putting him in a stress-generating conundrum, he decided to step in. He walked to the bar, poured a Scotch for himself, and sat down in the chair his wife had vacated.
" Cheers, Irmo do beb ( Kido)"
Wearily Francis picked up the beer mug, clicked against the extended glass, and said, "Cheers!"
"Are you tired Francis?" Brother asked.
"Not physically, but...." He hesitated to say what was on his mind.
"You are home Francis; I am your older brother who always defended you. Remember the High School Wrestling tournaments at home in Goa? I was there for you then, and am for you now, and forever. Don't worry about Rosita. I will take care of that situation. Trust me."
Francis raised his eyes from the beer glass and spoke in a calm voice:
"Dear Pascu, sole reason I came here to you is that, in my heart I have stored those memories from the days you used to carry me on your shoulders to the Carnival in Panjim. I am here to sort out lots of things about myself that I do not understand. I am an ordained Roman Catholic Priest, well trained to recognize the nature of human sufferings in others and yet, I cannot pin point the source of mine." He paused took a sip of his drink and continued.
"There is a conflict of faith; a storm of unknown kind that shakes my roots. I am pulled in two different directions. One is the well-established Mother Church, and the opposite is the Lord Jesus. The former forbids me from the intimacy with the Lord, and the later, pulls me towards his profound and personal love for the humanity without an iota of shame or guilt. During my stay in the Amazonian rain forest, I experienced this pure and unselfish love among the so-called savage tribes. They taught me what the true enlightenment is. This is a secret knowledge, which the Lord gave to Judas, Thomas and Mary Magdalene.
Those tribes, hidden from the modern world's eyes, actually drank from His mouth, and therefore, they are Him, and He is them, as the Lord told Thomas. How am I to live with myself when I have seen the realm of unadulterated love and undefined gospel of true faith that I find missing in the four Gospels? Where is my abode; who do I belong to? My fellow men I find attractive, not necessarily from the physical sense but from the sense of those feelings that existed between the Lord and his Didymos- Judas Iscariot and Thomas. I cannot reconcile this; the label of Homo Sexual man and the loyalty to my Mother Church, one that facilitates my reaching out to the forgotten humanity." He stopped talking but did not look at his brother who was taking notes.
Pascu being a professional and expert in dealing with the mental health of general population, at once recognized that his training and experiences in the clinical Psychology as well as Psychiatry was not sufficient to diagnose the disease, leave aside, treating the symptoms. He was not even sure if this was a mental disorder. He knew Francis wasn't talking to him but to his Master. The silence engulfing the two supposedly socializing individuals often speaks volume. The crevasse that separated their worlds, in fact, turned out to be a chasm which neither of them knew how to bridge.
Not hearing any sound for some time, Rosita decided to check if the brothers had gone out again. She pushed the door open and found both silently occupied into themselves and their drinks warming up on the table.
"Are you ready to eat or going through a 'confession' session?" She broke the silence and Pascu came out of his reverie.
" Yes, of course I am famish. Come on Francis let us eat." Pascu extended his hand to Francis and they went into the dining room behind her.
| Author Notes | The novel, Chasing of the wind covers one aspect of human sexuality that nothing has explained so far. Can a person fall in love with another of same gender and not have homosexual relationship because of religious restrictions? Is it a sin to ardently love an object of worship? This chapter gives the glimpse of Father Francis' dilemma. It is not meant to promote any creed nor to criticize any faith. Just a presentation of an idiosyncrasy of a man. |
By Niyuta
The discussion between two brothers before the supper, did not continue during the meal. Both Dr. Pascu and Francis had entered the dining room with an unusual mood. Apparently, Francis’ speech had triggered an avalanche of conflicting thoughts in Pascu’s mind. Francis on his part was riding on a different oceanic surge. The subdued atmosphere brothers brought with them at the table, affected Rosita’s usual exuberance. Rosita had heard few names which Francis had uttered when she went to call them for the supper. Now, seeing the serious faces, she held back the desire to know what had happened between them in such a short time. She simply served the food in silence and sat down. By habit; Francis blessed the food and did rest of the ritual of thanking the almighty etc.
Sensing the quiet atmosphere, Pascu opened the conversation.
“So, you are off tomorrow. Anything special in your plans for Brother Francis, darling? I thought I heard you two discussing something like that.”
That did the trick and Rosita’s natural, bubbly and sometimes overwhelming enthusiasm returned as if the floodgates opened unexpectedly:
“It is all planned to the smallest detail. After children leave for school at nine, we will be leaving for the Piknik Faria Lima for the ‘Taste of São Paulo’. I want Francis to get a good feel of the real Portuguese-Brazilian culinary culture and then we are heading for the Paulista Avenue and may be, if time permits, visit the Catavento Cultural e Educational.”
“Now that is an all-day affair sweetie. Anyone I know is joining you two and have you prepared Francis for this?” Doctor cautiously asked his wife.
“What’s there to prepare anyone for a half a day outing in the city? I don’t understand’ I am not taking him for a mountain climbing trip you know!” Rosita was defensive. She really did not want to discuss her plans with her husband who was not going to go with them in the first place.
Francis, not paying any attention to the discussion between the two, was absentmindedly working on the food with fork and knife. Rosita’s address to him the second time and brought him in the room from the mental cave he was sitting in far away from them. She repeated the question, “Do you have any suggestion Brother?”
Francis for the first time raised his face and eyebrows towards them and said,
“ Não, cunhada (No Sister-in –Law), I like it.”
“She is not asking you about her cooking brother; she wants to know if you accept her plans for tomorrow’s day out in the city with her.” Doctor clarified the subject they were discussing.
Rosita couldn’t help laughing loudly and spoke to Francis when the fit was over,
“Try and be with us my Brother Francis sometime; you have to leave those Amazonians in your head alone and come to know the real world and people in it.”
Doctor did not like that remark at all and in a sharp tone he rebuked her, “Rosie, leave him alone will you. He needs time to adjust to your world.”
Realizing the gravity of that situation, she forced herself to pipe down and they ate in silence. When the dinner was over, she went about her chores wondering what was wrong with her illustrious brother-in-law.
After the meal, brothers took leave of each other by hugging and Francis was leaving, Pascu in a soft voice said to him,
“Francis, look at me. Do you wish to go with Rosita tomorrow; if not, I will ask her not to bother you again about this. There will be other opportunities for her to take you out when you are ready.”
Francis simply shook his head and began climbing the steps t leading to bedrooms upstairs.
Doctor could not sleep over the disturbing episode of that evening. A sense of urgency had been nagging him ever since he observed his brother’s mental absence from the environments when he went to pick him at the Rail Road Station on the day he arrived. Doctor wondered if a trigger, one that made him to come and go sometimes, and then be a normal individual the other, exists. ‘There has to be physical reason for the mental anomaly.’ He muttered.
“ Does that speech related to his ardent love for the object of his devotion-Christ, indicated a fixation of a neurotic mind?” He questioned himself.
‘Where did I encounter a similar surge of emotions?’ He asked another question and then a flashback took him back to India of twenty years ago. A draft of his Post- Doctoral Thesis, he had subjected to his advisor, Dr. Mohan Parkar. He recalled the interview with the learned advisor as if it was just last week he was in his office at the Grand Medical College in Bombay.
“Exceptional Work Dr. Mendez; par excellence I would say.” The guru had complemented him.
“However, as your well-wisher, I would advise you, not to submit it to the committee for the review. The subject of your research is, ‘Neurosis of Devotional Worships within the World’s Religious Communities.’
Publish it in the international symposium outside India when you have migrated to a Western Country, which I am sure you will someday, as most Indians do. Too sensitive a subject even if is handled on a scientific platform. It will cause volcanic reactions within all religious communities in India and other Muslim countries. They will treat it as an attack on their religious practices, thinking and sentiments.
You have made a valuable contribution to the science of Psychology and Psychiatry and there is no argument on this point. However, think before submission. You are a Roman Catholic and that too a non-practicing one. You have looked at the chemical and neurol activities occurring within the brains of the sampled devotees who have a strong and compulsive attachment to a saint, a deity or the Almighty. They came from all three major religions. The outcome of your study is clinical but the language of presentation to an untrained person will look like, a slandering of the subject of their- albeit sexual- neurotic-devotion. You are endangering your and my life. I predict, a guarantied damage to this institute’s building by the paranoid mob will be an eminent threat.”
Dr. Pascal Mendez had done exactly as his mentor advised him and shelved the report until he was out of the harm’s way. When he finally presented in a forum many years later in the Washington DC, it was received with a great appreciations. As per advice of his mentor, he had replaced the identifying names of the saints and other thorny items with nondescript words. He did maintain the original draft and decided to revisit that research. Perhaps, clue to Francis’ behavior lay buried there in the findings. He decided to look into that when Rosita and Francis would be out bonding with commercial world of Sau Paolo.
When he reached his bedroom, he found Rosie fast a sleep with all her curlers and other preparations for the next day’s excursion with Francis. He stood there for a moment and smiled, ‘She’s going to have her way,’ he thought. Then cut the lights out and went to bed.
By eight in the morning, Doc was already making rounds at the hospital. By noon, he returned home. It was not his Clinic day. He decided to delve into his past research work that contained the original findings. The section in the report where most of the information he was looking for was still in his memory.
The archived paper was well preserved and with the help of the index, he reached the description of the researched materials. He began reading the Executive Summary:
| Author Notes | This novel is based on the unscientific analysis of human unconscious and its part in building our faith, beliefs, traditions etc., all of which makes us do things we do and the way we look at life around us. It is not supporting any creed, philosophy or doctrine nor it is intended to slander, insult or demonize any one or any religion. |
By Niyuta
If Rosita Mendez had kept a diary about her life’s significant events, then she would have penned that Wednesday as a victory day. She already began smelling the scent of jealousy emanated by her archrival, Miranda De Costa- a socialite upstart wife of a diplomat who flaunted her forays in the European Cultural ethos of the mid twentieth century. In that, higher- middle class country club environment of Sau Paulo suburbia, women entertained themselves with this harmless game of Darts where each participant scored a ‘Bulls Eye’ score every now and then. Miranda had an advantage in this quarter because of her past sojourn in the Capital Cities of France, Spain and Italy. In reality, her husband was a lowly staffer but Miranda had elevated him to the level of an Attaché of some sort. In any case, they referred each other as, “My best Friend,” to their respective friends. They attended the same church, often got together for a social events and did all those superficial things humanity indulges to make our boring life bit more interesting. Today’s outing with Francis was one of those things and not ‘une Visite de la ville,’ as it looked outwardly.
| Author Notes | Story will make sense if read from the beginning. It relates to a RC priest who takes his oath of abstinence very seriously but is of homosexual orientation. Novel does not promote or opposes any doctrine nor intended to insult any faith or institution. |
By Niyuta
The planned day out with her brother- in –law did not begin as well as she had hopped because of the peculiar behavior of Francis at the Country Club and then the abrupt departure of Miranda and her Japanese friend from the Pinheiros in the Praça Benedito Calixto Squaro. Nevertheless, she had kept her spirits high and Francis on his part too was in a relaxed and jovial mood when the strangers were gone. Together both had an excursion in the city that could be deemed a moderately successful affair. However, that planed afternoon adventure had ended in a total disaster. Coming face to face with an Oldman introduced to her as Father-In-Law, and noticing his placid and squalid room, was too much for her to bear. It is not that the poverty of the man and his surroundings that bothered her. The possibility of him coming into her life at that time when she was dreaming of reaching beyond the upper middle class status frightened her.
It was of utmost importance to her that Miranda and her husband support their full membership in the Sau Paulo Country Club. Today’s calculated affair of impressing Miranda had not gone as well as planned and now, this new obstacle stood between her and her ambitions. Recently her husband had received recognition from the world of science and she wanted to cash on that prestigious event. She was doing all this in her own old fashion ways and was quite annoyed at Pascu for not taking any interest in it. “He is so modest,” she would try to justify his indifference towards her aspirations to Miranda and Stanly De Costa. Her mother, who always claimed distant relationship with some obscure Royalty of Portugal or Spain, depending on the audience, built her own psyche systematically.
“Remember, this mediocre world we are forced to accept life as it is, but it is us, the nobility that must keep the memory and sense of the original grandeur of European Culture of the past alive in our hearts. Someday, the Monarchy that lead to human progress throughout the history of mankind will return to rule the planet. Don’t believe too much what was said by the Rabbi in the Sermon on the Mount. Poor will never inherit the earth, they never have. The new Monarchs will emerge in one form or the other. In politics, the Emperor has no cloths. Marry a man of substance, and preferably an older one, just as I did. I was only nineteen when I married your father twice my age because he was on a right path of ascendency.” It sounded like a convoluted Nietzsche’s outlook towards human progress in life indeed.
Most of her mother’s influence had waned as time passed and Rosita grew up in the markets and streets of Sau Paulo. When she finished her education in Nursing, she knew her mother was always hallucinating about the grand world of the centuries that buried the emperors in the pages of its history. However, the seed of that ambition to rise above the society she had lived all her life, remained dormant in her heart. By just a coincidence that she got a chance to study specialized nursing course in Rio where she bumped into a young Psychiatrist Dr. Pascal Mendez. It was the proverbial, ‘falling in love on sight’ phenomena. No two opposing personalities could have come into each other’s orbit. He, a typical specimen of intellectual, introvert man of science and her, a fiesta queen, full of mirth, joy of life and an optimist of high degree. She would find an ounce of joy in an ocean of sorrows. It was her nature to take the helm of a love-boat as soon as she came onboard. She fascinated Dr. Mendez. Perhaps it was his scientific mindset pulled him to her as subject of human study and after seeing her inside with his psychiatrist’s mind , he discover her as a man does a woman. On her part, it was all amore, coupled with the honor of his appointment at the hospital to a prestigious post of Chief of the Department of Mental Health with the invitation to many other social perks. Over the next twenty years, they lived a happy life. When he began his practice in Sau Paulo, he was the most qualified physician in the region. Things were moving smoothly. She met his family in Goa, London and eventually Francis came in her life.
It is the last event, the arrival of a RC Priest in her life that initially elevated her hopes of rising in the world of Roman Catholic Religion. She and her husband were moderate, liberal bending Catholics like their friends. They paid their dues to the Mother Church, attended the Mass on irregular basis but kept the Monsignor happy with supporting the causes with their checkbooks. Having a brother in law who is a Jesuit -like Priest, and has served in the remote part of the world was an asset to her, but then today’s event brought a difficulty she had not foreseen nor was prepared for.
On the way home, she was battling with the diverse ideas in her head.
“Where did you leave Francis?” That was the question she dreaded answering and that would be the first of many, Pascu will ask.
“Should I tell him that Francis discovered your father in the back of a street speakeasy place, or pretend I did not understand the language, tell a white lie- He met someone he knew in Goa and stayed behind to take care of him as a missionary would?”
“How long that lie would survive when Francis eventually bring Frank Menendez home to meet the rest of the family including his grandchildren?” She mulled over the questions all over again as she pulled in her garage.
Fortunately, Pascu had not reached home from the hospital. Today was his late coming day of the week Children had finished their routine activities. She went to her room and fell in her bed without changing into home attire. In her mind, the storms were subsiding and rationality had returned.
Lying was not in her nature and she had not faced any occasion to hide anything important as this from her husband. There was that autoresponder built in her psyche by the belief in the science of psychiatry. As if the education in the realm of human mind made a Psychologist foolproof from the deceptions and distortions of reality, we the ordinary humans dish out to each other in the normal course of living.
“You don’t have any choice but to layout the scene as it is.” Her honesty advised her.
“Not now; wait until tomorrow. He will be late tonight and you can go to bed early; buy time. Francis may not do what you are thinking he would.”
Her cautious, pragmatic mind directed her towards another path that grudgingly may be, would be acceptable to her morality. She decided to wait and see. Pascu would be out early in the morning and tonight, he definitely would not wake her up just to find out how her day went. Perhaps, he may assume, Francis is in his room and not bother to check on him also. She got out of bed, finished her toiletry and went down to see if the Sonya the housekeeper took care of her children’s meals before leaving for home.
Rosita sat down with her kids, heard all about their day’s activities, and complains about other kids and teachers and then Michel asked her about their uncle Francis.
“Is he in the bedroom? I want to ask him something important. My teacher wants to know if he will visit the class and tell us about the Amazonian People and Animals.”
“He is not here; he will be back tomorrow then you ask him, I am sure he will love to visit your class.” She assured him, and she promised them to come and tuck in the bed since dad was going to be late that night. They ran upstairs to their room to watch TV shows and she went to bar, poured a glass of Sherry, and came back to the living room.
It was seven thirty in the evening and she had another two hours to reflect on her situation before Pascu would reach home. This was the time reserved on her calendar in every week for her mother. Rosita utilized it to get in touch with her mother to make her current with the special events happening to her and family. May be it was the lingering effect of her mother’s life long indoctrination, Rosie turned to Aggie when she felt uneasy about discussing anything with her husband or if she needed a new strategy for dealing with her rivals in the battles for the social dominance of her group.
This situation was unique and a wrong step could bring unforeseen consequences upon her. In all other familiar battlegrounds, the retired Five Star General Aggie had served her well. Rosita was hesitant to ask this time because she practically read her mother’s advice before receiving it.
“Get rid of both of them. One Cockroach is enough to infest the mansion; that will be a total disaster my dear child. Loss of Dining privileges in the Country Club, friends avoiding you, no home parties and even the Monsignor will find a way to coincide your invitation date with an event in his calendar. Don’t be a fool. I told you not to marry that Indian but you did not listen.” Rosita was imagining her mother speaking to her, as if they were facing each other. She took a deep breath and picked up her Cherry to sip. Telephone rang at the same time and she put the glass down. Aggie was on the line.
“ It is past Seven forty; you did not call and I got worried.”
“Oh mother, it is only ten minutes past our call time; you make such a fuss about everything. He is not going to be home till ten, we have plenty of time to chat.”
She did not wish to speak to her mother that evening knowing that Aggie had a knack of reaching to her hidden emotions via anxiety floating in her ears through Rosie’s voice. Like the eyes on the rear of her head, this mom had long arms to reach through the phone machine and pull everything out. Pascu naturally avoided her like the plague.
As predicted, all events and the anxiety-filled life were painted in front of Rosita by the master artist.
“Just offer them money; if you want to hide from your husband, tell me where they live and I will handle the whole thing very discreetly; may be they will go back to India to live with their relatives there that place,… what’s the name?” She stopped to think and remember it. Rosita got an opportunity to stop that torrent.
“ It’s Goa; G-O-A , mom. Please stop it. I don’t want to discuss this now. I have headache and want to go to bed. We will talk again as soon as I decide what to do. Just stay out. I will ask you for the advice when I need one. We are not dealing with Miranda; it is my life.” Rosita was angry at her own weaknesses.
Aggie sensed the gravity of the situation and backed off. “Whatever you say dear, but don’t you let the Indians force you do what you don’t want; after all it is your home and you have the rights. I am worried but I will wait for your next call. Give my love to kids and tell them they have to visit me next time school vacation comes around.” Then she hung up.
Rosita felt weary and rundown. She was hungry and mechanically went to kitchen to get something to eat. After tucking the kids in bed, she retired to her bedroom. Somehow, the new, unanticipated turn on a straight road became unmanageable. She began reassessing the situation.
“Am I making a mountain out of a molehill?" She wondered. “Why I lack empathy towards that Oldman is not explainable condition. How can I reject my husband’s father based on lack of social standings, like my mother, or that matter, Miranda and the Country Club friends would want me to? Don’t I love Pascu as passionately as I did when we met? I must take all that comes with him is the right thing to do. I am a Professional Nurse; a caregiver, not a social climber like Miranda or Aggie. I am going to the right thing.” Her conscience pushed her to the right path. She set an alarm for early morning and went to bed.
| Author Notes | To fully grasp the essence of this story, it is suggested that a reader should read previous chapter first. |
By Niyuta
As we recall, few months before Francis was born, unemployed Frank Mendez was dispatched to Bombay, now called Mumbai City. Because of the tension he created at home, and Mariam’s pregnant condition, he was more or less, kicked out of his own ancestral home. Actually, this Popeye the Sailor Man, went to Mumbai happily as if his parole was over. He worked as a kitchen helper in the Prestigious, Hotel- Taj Mahal, built at Colaba Harbor on the Arabian Sea. This stately, European Renaissance style hotel stands in front of the Monument, famous as ‘Gateway of India,’ erected by the British to commemorate His Majesty, King George the Fifth’s visit to the Jewel of the Crown colony-India, that is.
From his kitchen window, Franky, as his coworkers addressed him, smelled the sea. The joyous moments, and the pleasure events of that life in the shipping lanes of Persian Gulf was the only fond memories he treasured. With every breeze his yearning for that life left behind increased and miseries replaced the joy of living in that overcrowded metropolis. Upon arrival to Mumbai, he found a bed renting home where a single bed is rented by for eight hours, typically to two individuals, one working on day and the other, on the nighttime shift. In this arrangement, one occupant of the bed leaves for the work when the other arrives from work to sleep in.They rent the same bed and the owner of the bed gets twice the income the others who rent a bed out on the sidewalks of the city. The arrangement works fine for the folks like Franky who have arrived from a small town or village in search of employment, which is available instantly, but not a roof over head. The circumstances create needs and the needs spawn entrepreneurs. Apart from the bed renting, storage and guarding of same individual’s measly material possessions is a business in itself and it too flourishes side by side in the places like this.
The working a slave shift, from six in the morning until ten at night, had tied Frank’s feet to the kitchen table. He just could not seek out former friends and colleagues hanging out in the brothels and make inquiries about the Khalasi (Deckhand) job or for that matter, any job on any vessel going anywhere, out of Mumbai Harbor. Finally, the Lady Luck turned around and smiled at him. One day, the original renter, who had sub-rented the bed to the nightshift guy showed up when Frank returned early from the work. When two came face to face, both jumped with joy. The newcomer was no one but Frank’s old buddy. from the Muscat to Alexandria Route. Abdul Sattar and Frank were together for many years from the day he sailed out at sea after marriage. Both were identical twins in habits and philosophy of life. Neither practiced their birth religion and liked the women of same sorts. Free as the migrating birds, they roam the hinterlands of ports.
When they parted company after ten years of seafaring on the same vessel, it was with a promise to get together whenever they were in the same port. Then such promises are like the writings on the sand on a beach -Time, like the tides, wipes everything, to make the slate clean. After gallivanting together for a week and staying away from the work during that festive time, Frank got fired from the job he was happy to leave behind. Abdul helped his friend to get on a freighter heading for the South China Sea ports. As it is Frank had emotionally left everything in Goa behind and now at sea, he left his motherland for good and did not step on her shore ever again. India was of no interest to him anymore. Being born in a Portuguese colony, he was not a citizen of India by birth and now, he was without a country by choice.
Years added up and twenty some years passed without him noticing any changes. To him, sea looked the same every time he looked outside the porthole and land was nothing but a rim around a body of endless water. Ship after ship he floated around first in the Chinese waters and then in the Western Pacific, the Caribbean isles, and eventually to Brasilia. He jumped the ship in Rio, paid few thousand US Dollar to a pimp and recued a young, native Mulatto woman. She brought him to Sau Paulo’s slums and then in the next ten years he settled down with her. Finally, the craving for the Sea had left his soul and he became a land dweller. The present restaurant and two boys came during that time when the children bearing his last name were living a well-settled and prosperous life in three different continents.
The unexpected arrival of his last child- Francis was a traumatic event for Frank. The news of a birth of his new child did not reach to Frank in Mumbai and on his part; he did not even imagined, leave aside making an inquiry out of curiosity, if not for the joy of fatherhood. The father actually was as close to the place of childbirth, as one-day bus trip but leaving Goa was like surgically removing an organ to him. After decades past, now, here in Sao Paulo’s market square, he was getting drunk with the same son he never held in his arms as a baby.
One wonders, who the hell runs this business of arranging the human life-events. May be, it is more than one entity that is playing a board game of imagination and all living things are the pieces to be used like the Logo set, which kids use to build something they imagine. Rosita and her friends would have fainted if they saw these two together, swapping stories in that squalid room filled with smoke blown around by the old man’s smoking of the Goan, hand-rolled, mini Cheroots. For the first time since his arrival from the outpost, Father Francis Mendez was laughing and clapping like a child without any inhibition. The cheap whisky was working miracles on his libido.
There was a sense of freedom around him; no one was watching or holding him in any high esteem. They were two Goans having a rollicking time with singing old Konkani songs long forgotten and never heard by anyone around them. The smell of dried Mackerel baking on coals, took both, the father and son to their childhood in Punjim town in Goa. In that merriment, swapping of important information and presence of Pascu, the eldest son, in their city was forgotten. They simply were enjoying the union of a son and his prodigal father. They would have partied all night but Frank’s age and that uncontrolled Diabetic condition ended the show.
When Francis went to bed, he could not fall asleep. A strange sense of freedom and a carefree attitude replaced his usual, depressive thoughts, which kept sleep away from him. Perhaps memories of childhood took him back to the high school wrestling days. That afternoon he broke good number of rules that the RC Priests are expected to obey. Rosita’s overpowering personality had affected him in a manner, a weak individual comes under a dominant peer’s influence and begins smoking or snorting the controlled substances. Freely they laughed at each other’s jokes, and to her surprise, paid attention to her explanations about different merchandise in the stores.
For Francis, that evening culminated in an unexpected round of merrymaking and reminded him of the tribal celebrations of Amazonian natives’ festivals. There away from the modern civilization, he was without inhibitions of any kind. Pure joy of being one with the nature and her worshiping children, Francis found salvation but returning back in the folds of manmade world, in which he found the freedom suffocating society and has been struggling to fit in. Unexpectedly he found the Oldman who also had escaped from that restrictive environ. Listening to his biography and sensing the yearning of his soul wanting to return to the oceans of the world, Francis found similarity. For that short time of few hours, they both had returned to that domain, as if the booze was a magic potion transporting them to the lands of their heart’s desires. In the bed, his mind began indulging into the contents of that Pandora’s Box, kept shut tight for three decades.
From nowhere, memory of that night with Monsignor Eduardo Giovanni came alive. After thirty years, he was visiting that suppressed memory. In the past, he had taken subterfuge in the repetitions of Hail Mary chant as soon as his mind would drift into that minefield, Tonight, he did not feel guilty about anything that happened between the handsome young priest and him many years ago. The sensations and joy of sex he had then experienced was no longer a soul degrading and a forbidden feeling. That moment, he did not agree with the Biblical statement- -What God made- crooked, no human could make straight. Contrary to that, Francis felt a sense of completeness of his body and the Holy Spirit within it. He recalled words of Jesus quoted in the Elaine Pagels’ transliteration from the Coptic Text in the book -The Gnostic Gospels:
“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.”.
“I must bring forth my true nature without breaking the oath of celibacy,” he told himself and continued with the same thought wave, seeking some sort of self assurance and making efforts to set sails again. Life has to be dynamic in order to reach where one's destiny lies and the providence always helps those who have made up mind to face the storms that are sure to rise with the same winds which power the sails.
"My place is not in the Cathedrals of Rome, or any city. I cannot be true to my nature in this bourgeois world of ambitions and the constant struggles for the dominance of others. I must stay with my dad and together, live a life we both can carve out for ourselves." With that resolution, and satisfied with his plans for the future, he fell asleep like a child.
| Author Notes | This chapter of a novel-Chasing of The Wind, like all previous ones, is consistent with the spirit of expressing the Spiritual Aspects of teachings of Jesus. It is not promoting or condemning any faith, doctrine and not intended to hurt anyone's sentiments. |
By Niyuta
Dr. Pascal Mendez often slept in his study because as a sensitive and considerate husband, he avoided disturbing Rosie, as he fondly addressed his loving wife, unnecessarily when he worked late at the hospital or at home. She used to protest it in the beginning but then began to understand his motives.
"It's alright Pascu; come to bed even if you are late; I miss you not being here next to me."
"No dear; you are a nurse. You work harder than I do, and need full eight hours of sleep. I am never away from you; am I?"
He had grabbed her and kissed passionately. The lovemaking following that, had settled the issue once for all. Same understanding about early rising applied to their routine.
Doctors have abnormal routines and depending on the demands for their services, they had to organize their daily life. Dr. Pascal often left home before anyone was awake in his household. From the early childhood, he had done the 'early to rise,' routine to assist mother when she was managing the Mendez Farm in Goa. The firstborn child was indeed a blessing to Miriam. He had replaced Frank Mendez the Sailor man dad in assisting mom. Before leaving for school at eight in the morning, he used to do small chores and as he grew up, gave her hand on managing the laborers, buyers and vendors. All seem to have early morning routines to visit the farm and conduct business before nine to catch the riverboat to take the produce to markets. That routine helped Pascu throughout his life as a Medical Student, Intern and now a full-fledge Psychiatrist. Obviously, he had become the head of the household after Frank Mendez disappeared over the horizon and step dad-A Portuguese official, who took his mother to the Alter. After that, he moved to Bombay (Mumbai Now), for the admission in the Grand Medical College.
That morning was one of those days when he had to be up early even though he had worked late the previous night. To his surprise, he found Rosita sitting at the dinette in the kitchen sipping coffee.
"What's the matter sweetie; early shift today?" He was pleased to see her and kissed her lightly before proceeding to the coffee percolator.
"No, I have my usual afternoon shift," She responded in a low voice and he picked up the scent of a troubled mind.
"What happened yesterday? Did Francis go into a tail-spin after meeting the Barracuda?" He made the usual reference to Miranda.
"No, that encounter was not as bad as what happened after she left."
Rosita found an opening to bring the conversation to that point, where she could begin the discussion about the presence of Frank Mendez in their lives. Since she woke up that morning, she was struggling to find a soft landing for herself and her husband. This was that lucky break.
"Please sit down, I need to speak to you and this is very important to all of us." She implored.
Pascal came around and did just that in front of her. He reached out for her hands and they linked with each other as if performing some sort of psychic game.
"I want to know all about it; don't hold anything back love; I am here for you." He glanced at his wristwatch as he spoke.
"Francis discovered your long lost father- Frank Mendez. He lives with two sons in the Praça Benedito Calixto Squaro. There is a Goan Restaurant after the Farmers' Market and they live behind in a shack like structure. I didn't know how to react to him as it happened so quickly and I am afraid, perhaps I made him feel unwelcoming in our home. I am sorry, but I just couldn't face a stranger who looked like he came from the slums of Rio and claimed to be my father in law. I hope you will understand my predicament."
"Oh my God; what an extraordinary event! My father living in such a distressed condition in my own town and no Goan person in Sao Paulo knew about it. Indeed this is a tragic situation. Where is Francis? Let me wake him up and we can decide what to do."
Dr. Pascal tried to minimize impact of the news he wished had not come out in the open at that time when he was getting ready to close an important chapter in their lives. He wanted to speak to Francis and their siblings about the two legal matters; the Will and Testament of their mother, Mariam, and stepfather, Count Alphonso. With the reappearance of Frank Mendez, all that work of twenty some years of legal wrangling between the Attorneys of Goa and their Brazilian counterparts had to be rehashed. Sometimes it seems destiny likes to play with the human lives that strange board game of Snake and Ladders. One can never be sure how long one can keep climbing up and up and then, a throw of dice lands him in a place, where a snake swallows the player and push down all the way to the starting box.
Rosita responded quickly,
"Francis did not come home with me; he stayed with Mr. Frank. He insisted on doing that."
She was in tears out of some senses of failing her husband which really was not her fault, nor Pascu had accused her in any way.
Thoughtfully he came around, held her in his arms, wiped her tears, and in a gentle voice said:
"Rosie, don't let that doubt about our past bother you. Today you will learn entire story from very beginning. Nothing I told you about who we the Mendez are will change by finding of a man who may be our long lost dad. Francis is naive and does not know the ways of our world. The man may be an impostor. Someone who knew my family back in Goa and that is not impossible to happen. My family has been one of the oldest and the richest landlords of the Portuguese Colony in India.
Relax; I am going to get to the bottom of all this business today. I assure you, my dad, if he is alive today, he would not have stayed away from his family owned lands and real estate. Today, that property is worth Millions of US Dollars. I must leave for clinic immediately, but I will meet Frank Mendez this afternoon and we will meet tonight after dinner. I will bring Francis back with me. Now you go and get ready for your work without worrying about a thing. As caregivers, we both have special duties to perform."
He kissed her forehead, gave her a reassuring hug and left for the clinic.
Wearily, Rosita got up from her chair. She had lot to unload on Pascu but then, there were his patients waiting to do the same in his clinic and their problems took precedence over hers; she knew that by her experiences since the time they dated in the early years of their courtship. Her mind was not settled as she would have liked and there were anxiety-causing thoughts still swarming in her head. How to prepare her home to handle a father in law along with Francis had become a bewildering subject that had no clear solution she had planned to get out of Pascu that morning but failed. Although it remained an unfinished business, she was sure of a quick resolution her husband had promised. He did not let her down before and she hoped for a reasonably acceptable outcome.
Then, she too had her own sanctuary to run and hide. As a Director of Nursing, she had her daily goals and clinical challenges to meet. She picked up the phone and called the hospital to check on some of the care related issues. As day advanced, she got ready and left for the work. Frank Mendez affair was not forgotten; just pushed aside by the both clinicians. Taking care of their patients gave them the escape they needed at that moment.
By four in the evening, Dr. Pascal Mendez headed for the restaurant to meet the man who claimed to be Frank Mendez of Panjim, Goa, India. There were many angles to this story and the most complicated one related to the legal domain and that too in a faraway land. It so happened that the issue at hand was almost resolved after a long legal battle of probating a Will made in Rome but involved assets in Goa. The land and the structure over it were located in an ideal place for a Beach Resort. In fact, another native Goan person who shared the last name- Mendez, with Frank, had claimed a stake the property. He had built a consortium of small landowners surrounding the Mendez real estate and together, they had obtained a Tourist Resort building plan from an Australian developer. The major hitch in the scheme was the absent owners of the prime property-The Mendez Clan.
The Indian Land Reform initiative adopted in sixties, wiped out the centuries old feudal, Landlord-Tenant -lease systems and gave the lands to the tillers, if the owners failed to demonstrate the claimant were servants and not tenants. The well-intended, Socialistic plan had its unintended consequences. It had become a favorite tool for grabbing the Agricultural holdings. All a land mafia had to do was to find a person living adjacent to the targeted property, preferably a former servant, or a distant relative or anyone sharing a family name. If a person with the knowledge of the farming operations was found, then make him farm the land as if it belongs to him and finance the farming with a loan. If the landowners ignore that for a year or two, then help the so-called tenant, file a claim under the Tenancy Reform Act. If the owners are out of the country and decide not to fool with the arcane Indian Civil Courts, then, by default, the land changed hands. After that, the mafia gives the new owner some pocket change and grab the property.
In case of Dr. Mendez and his clan's property, one prospective owner, Emanuel Mendez was in Mumbai and used to visit the family's real estate frequently. Second stroke of good luck was the government's restrictions on conversion of arable lands used in the food productions. It had become difficult to convert such a land in any commercial holdings. Mariam had a keen mind in doing business and in fact, she had taken charge of the property after marriage. Meticulous record keeping was her strength and keeping government dues in line had firmly kept the property in Mendez family.
Before leaving Goa, she had put it in the, 'Inter- Vivo --Trust' arrangement and rented out the Mendez Villa to the church on a nominal rent with on demand vacating clause in the lease. Nevertheless, a Mendez showed up to claim the stake. It took some ten or fifteen years to shake his claim off and the property value skyrocketed.
When Mariam realized the shadow of death was eminent, she prepared a will and distributed the property between three older children, leaving Francis out. Part of Rosita's anxiety stemmed out of the fear that property worth several millions, just freed from the unsubstantiated claims, may get bogged down in another court battle because of this resurrection of Frank Mendez from the grave. A thought of him challenging the Mariam's will, sounded real and ominous. Francis on the other hand was full of joy. Sense of possessing something had never entered in his mind and like his father; he was sailing on the ocean of peace, containment and a renewed sense of purpose. In an unique way, both the father and the son were happy to be poor. Father was aware of the value of his real estate but did not care and the son had taken a vow of poverty when adorned a collar
| Author Notes | This chapter is a part of a novel, Chasing of The Wind. This part of the story relates two previous two chapters and may not make sense to a new reader. |
By Niyuta
Dr. Pascal Mendez got in his Mercedes and sat motionlessly as if frozen a long time ago by an avalanche in the foothills of Himalayan Peak he had come to conquer. In real sense, he had a problem at hand that looked from the base camp like the Mount Everest. All day at the clinic, he did not get a moment to think about his personal difficulties but then, there was that promise to Rosita hanging on his head. I have to have an answer for her, which would make her less anxious about his family's two most undesirable members making a permanent home. He was aware of semi-European culture she grew up in and the pressure her mother Aggie put on her to rise up in the social circles.
The deep thinking posture similar to, ' Le Penseur d'Auguste Rodin at the Musée Rodin in Paris', Dr. Mendez appeared to be sitting at the Gates of Hell.
"What should I say to the old man that won't duplicate Rosie's performance on seeing him face to face?"
Pascu was struggling with matching of the image he had in his memory with the face he would be encountering.
"I wonder what scars life's hardships leave on a once handsome face that no one loved, nor wanted." His conscience was questioning him.
"I owe him the legitimacy of my existence. After all, he has lent me his family name when I now know that he is not my biological father. The least I could do for him is to make him one, and let Rosie decide what she wishes to do to keep her own identity as a daughter of someone who was related to some Portuguese royalty, intact.
" For the first time, he felt that Francis had something precious that he did not have-freedom to be human-Not a Doctor, nor a member of an elite society.
With that conclusion, he came around, started his car and went to see that man who claims to be Frank Mendez of Goa.
He parked the vehicle in a garage bit away from the address he was supposed to go. He took a Cab and arrived at the Calangute Beach Cafe. Reading the name of that street side-eating place had same effect Francis had. It flooded his mind with the nostalgia. Memories often remind us that the places, people and episodes of forgotten life are lot more important than our alter ego makes us believe otherwise. Somewhere in the limbic system of our cerebrum, they remain dormant until a trigger or a trip wire lets them loose. The nostalgic feelings for a place we often dismiss as, 'silly', then become the must have thing from the past. Revisiting it may be just one last time, or go back in time, do those things and be with people we once were close to, and relive the moments of the ultimate pleasures then enjoyed.
As if in a trance, he stood there in front of that signboard until Tirnath, one of his stepbrothers came up to him and asked,
"Are you looking for Brother Francis?"
"Oh; yes, indeed I am looking for him. Is he in here?" Pascu replied.
"Come this way; he is in the back." Young man took him through the narrow passage that linked to the living quarters behind the kitchen. He pointed a closed door and said,
"Push it; is not locked; they are there." Tirnath left him there, as if he did not wish to be a part of that drama.
Pascal pushed the door open and found Francis and Frank engross in a Chess game. Francis was sitting with his back to the door and the Old man opposite to him, was in a reclining position with head resting on the wall behind and eyes closed. Not expecting anyone special, neither paid attention to the opening of door. Pascu stood there examining the facial features of the man he came to meet and to confirm or deny his bonafide.
As an expert in human mind and its memory retention process, he had prepared himself to expect an age related distortion of the human face he was going to examine in that encounter. In his youth, Frank had a reputation for imitating handsome actor of a Hollywood movie. With his delicate face, square jaw, well- trimmed Clark Gable mustache, dark hair groomed in the Montgomery Cliff style, and five ten height, Frank was a heartthrob of many young women. That was the picture of him, about thirty-five years ago. Today, with a toothless mouth, soften septum, and balding head, the man in front him did not match the image of Frank Mendez, the former husband of Miriam Mendez of Goa, India at all.
Dr. Pascal kept his trained eyes on that face to see if he could remember something of it that would tie that weather beaten face with the last memory of him leaving for Mumbai when he was a teen and Francis was only conceived. Finding nothing comforting in that quarter, he decided to use the past, personal and intimate events between him and his family to verify the authenticity of his claim to paternity. Knowing the secret of own and his siblings' births, paternity testing through the gene matching was out of question. Finally, he tapped on Francis' shoulder and he turned around. Seeing Pascu standing there surprised him.
"My God! How long have you been standing here? I was going to return to your home this evening to collect my gear. You did't have to take the troubles." Francis informed him.
With that commotion, Frank got out of his diabetes induced stupor and adjusting his glasses on the nose asked Francis in Konkani, "Kon aailo re? Aun hyaka olkat nay!" ("Who is he? I don't know him").
"I am Doctor Pascal Mendez. "Pascu introduced himself in his habitual, official tone.
"Doctor kityak? Maka zope aaili re." ("Why Doctor? I just felt sleepy").
Frank still was addressing Francis. Apparently, he did not recognize Pascu and was uncomfortable with his presence.
"He is not here for a medical checkup; this is Pascu, your oldest son. You met his wife yesterday." Realizing Pascu's difficulty speaking the mother tongue, Francis spoke to the senior Mendez in English.
The introduction part of their conversation was not going anywhere and the urgency of settling the issue once for all was of utmost important to Doctor. He pulled up a chair, sat down next to Frank, and took charge of the event.
"I am not going to beat around the bush and wish to get to the point." He announced, as if he wanted both the other participant to realize the gravity of their situation. Hearing the sharp tone, Francis dropped the grin from his face and sat erect from the slouched posture. Frank showed no emotions at all.
"Do you claim to be the father of the three children- Pascal Vincent Mendez; that's me. Alice Marguerite, Mendez; our Sister, Emmanuel, Nathan, Mendez- the third child and Francis Christa Mendez the last one you already know?"
" Yes, I remember having children with Miriam but don't remember their names." The Old man spoke haltingly with a weary feeling on his face.
"They were small when I left for Mumbai and don't know what happened to them. This Portuguese man says he is a priest and my son. I am not sure of anything."
"Do you recall your life in Panjim village in Goa, way back in 1955?" Pascu tried to stimulate his memory.
" Yes, I remember my home, the Mendez Mansion. I also remember our Priest, Father De Mello. I sometimes think about the Wadi(farm), the Coconut and Alfonso Mango trees. I don't know what Miriam did with all that. I just don't know my children. No one wanted me there in the Wadi and they made me go away."
"Who made you go away? You went on your own; I was ten year old and I know you went away with a smile."
Frank's accusing tone sucked Pascu into that emotional vortex unnecessarily. His instincts of a son, protecting the mother, came alive.
"Don't blame anyone; you had no interest in any of us. We were strangers then and we are strangers now." He vented his anger towards Frank, which he had carried in his bosom for most part of his life.
Old man did not say anything and that uneasy silence became unbearable to Francis and , uncharacteristically he exploded:
"Stop it at once! No need to humiliate him and if you have come here to take me with you, then I think you return as you came. We don't need anything from you or anyone else. I will be here with him from now on; just send my bag and we shall part company."
Dr. Pascal realized that he had handled the affair very badly. 'What got into me' he silently questioned his lack of empathy towards those two men became obvious. Was it the knowledge of his and sibling's births deprived him of the affinity one feels towards one's biological parents? The thought crossed his mind.
"I am sorry; I did not mean to approach you like this Papa," he spoke to Frank with humility and addressing him as a son would to a father.
Frank looked up to his face with tears rolling down on cheeks and extended his shaking hand. In a slow voice he spoke in Konkani,
" Inge, javal Buss, maka tuze tond dakhav." ("Sit close to me, show me your face.")
Pascu got up from his chair and sat next to him after giving him a gentle hug. He understood the efforts Old Man was making to feel some affection towards him. He forgot the mission he came to accomplish that evening and a strange sense of compassion came over him. He picked up the shaking hand of that man he once knew as his father and impulsively said,
"I have come to take you home Papa. Your daughter in law and grandchildren are waiting for you. Let us try to find a way to make up for the lost years of our lives away from each other."
Then he turned towards Francis, with a smiling face and said,
"We have lot to accomplish Francis; I'll need all the help you can give. Why don't you get him ready and I will pick both of you in half hour." Then he left the room without waiting for any response.
When Pascu got in his car at the garage, he called Rosita.
"Honey, we will be home in an hour; can you put something together for supper or just get delivered?"
"Dinner for all of you is ready" she replied calmly.
That unexpected response from her caught him unprepared for any reaction except incredible admiration of her and he retorted.
"How did you know I am going to bring them with me?"
'A wise and experienced woman, who accurately knows the idiosyncrasies of her husband, is a true Psychologist without having a formal degree; success of the marriage depends on it.'
"Is this not a passage in your book?" She laughed heartily.
"Now I know why I love you so much."
He hung up the phone and headed for the restaurant to pick his relatives.
| Author Notes | This chapter adds to the drama of Mendez family in Sao Paulo, Brazil. To understand the events of this chapter, reading of the 3 previous chapters is necessary. |
By Niyuta
There are men who have raised children believing them to be their own progeny and never knowing the truth that the children in reality were carrying someone else's genes. Even today, in many old cultures, a husband of a newlywed woman and his parents, point finger at the wife and label her as infertile, when within the first year or two of consummation of their marriage, the woman fails to conceive and deliver a child. In the most cases, the problem of infertility often lies with their husbands.
Under the circumstance, the husband, supported by his family, not only refuses even to consider the possibility that he could be infertile but resorts to violence against her if she suggests a medical check up. In many such cases, those unfortunate women are abandoned and in the situations like that, the risk of a social stigma stamped on one daughter is automatically transferred to her unmarried sisters and they all appear genetically infertile. Parents, out of such fears shut their door on the woman in distress. Then committing suicide becomes an attractive way out or else they land up in the brothels.
The smart ones avoid that blot on their anatomy and find a suitable opportunity to get pregnant by any safely available means and life takes its normal course with all happiness prevailing in the families.
In Miriam's case, her opting for the selective breeding was not because of anatomical deficiency in Frank. Perhaps, her Hindu ancestry and its cast and class based selection system of choosing a mate, remained intact in her family's psyche, even after her great grandfather's conversion to Roman Catholic religion. Maybe, she came under the influence of the upper crust of Spanish-Portuguese society's class system.
For first five adolescent years of her life, Marian lived with her parents as they moved to Spain in early-1930s. Her dad finished medical school in Bombay and went to finish residency education in Europe. Her exposure to elite segment of the society, especially, around the church officials, in Spain, definitely influenced her thinking about the importance of have a good family bloodline to conceive superior children. Unfortunately, her dad innocently got mixed up with the Republican side of the Spanish Civil War which broke out in 1936. He treated few wounded rebel soldiers and they, out of gratitude, declared him as a hero. Promptly the fascist Franco's police arrested him. They tortured, and released him after demanding that he must show loyalty to the General's cause by joining their medical corps.
In the prison, he witnessed the horrific treatment of prisoners. After release, fearing the Generalissimo Franco's wrath, Dr. De Costa escaped with his family to Lisbon and returned to Goa by 1938.
Those events affected the family in such a profound way that their fortune and prestige began to decline. Dr. De Costa could not get over the episodes of human tragedies he witnessed and to some extent personally experienced in the prison. The Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD), developed since then, led to his excessive consumption of alcohol. As if that was not enough to impact their lives, her mother's illness began to take toll of her health. While escaping from Spain, they had taken a fishing trawler to reach Lisbon and she had picked up infection of lungs. These events resulted in the isolation of her family.
I
By the time Miriam became a debutante, her grandfather's estate had depleted, Dr. De Costa stopped practicing of medicine and mother's illness forced them to shift to Bombay. However, Miriam remained in Goa, completing her schooling. The major change in her life and the absence of gaiety and splendor she had experienced during her stay in Europe had subconsciously influenced her thinking. She began to loath her father as she witnessed his diminishing prestige with the church first and then within the community of Goan elites. She also disliked the poor Catholics around her. Without knowing anything about their lives, she formed an opinion that they all were low-life scum similar to the 'Negroes', as they were referred to, from the Portuguese African Colonies.
What ever happened to her parents, she did not allow that to affect her own dreams and instead of accepting the situation as irreversible, she decided to find a way to get out of it.
"I will not die in poverty and will return to Europe," She resolutely told her image as she stood admiring her own naked body in the mirror. She was sixteen then and life experiences had already matured her beyond her years. An opportunity soon came her way.
The announcement of the 'Governor's Ball' of 1946 and a Beauty Queen competition posted in the Church's notice board, gave her the vision of changing the course of her life. Times were hard, WW II was raging and young men were shipped off to various training centers. Only the sons of influential and wealthy families remained in the land. Mostly the men of past military service age with the aristocratic lineage remained.
Miriam's pragmatic mind had set her priorities and romance described in the European fiction, took secondary place. She knew her beauty inherited from her former high cast Brhaminical ancestors and the personality developed by her interlude with the Spain's aristocracy, would attract the attention of wealthy and influential men-A certain passage out of the malaise the destiny had dished out to her family.
She went about fixing the things in her home. Found a beautiful gown made in Paris that her mother had worn a couple of time in similar occasions. She found a skilled seamstress and made changes to fit it to her well-developed body, taking leave of the modesty and pushing her ample breast up. A sure shot thing to get the older, European men to clean their monocles and peer into her curtsying frame. She had observed that when she was growing up in Spanish society.
Well, things just happened as she thought they would except, she ran into the racial barrier. Overseas experiences were different. There, Dr. De Costa and his families were a novelty. They looked European with the service with colonial administration. He was wealthy and family attended the church events regularly. Living in Goa was a different story. Their family history and the decline of Dr. De Costa's health and fortune, was widely known in the community. Finding an escort for the Governor's Ball became a problem for her.
None of the European stock she met in the church paid attention to her obvious efforts to be noticed. They were polite but uppity in their mannerism towards the colonist. Crust fallen and on the verge of accepting the fate accompli, she began her retreat when she heard the voice of Mr. Mendez.
"Do you want to go to 'The Ball?"
She looked up and saw Mr. Mendez standing there with his son Frank behind him.
She recognized him at once. He was her dad's only friend who regularly visited him and brought the essentials from his Wadi (farm) for the family. She whispered in a defeated voice.
"Yes Mr. Mendez, but no one has asked me yet. Since Dad's illness it's been..."
Mr. Mendez interrupted her and said,
"Don't torture yourself dear; I know all about it."
Then he turned towards his son and asked him to step forward, which he reluctantly did.
"This is my son, Frank; he will take you to the Governor's Ball." Sr. Mendez spoke with authority as if to let his son know he meant it.
Miriam threw a glance at her prospective escort and at once noticed his gold couplings and chain with a Crucifix dangling bellow. His suit had the stamp of Manchester wool. Young man was very handsome in a sexual context. She saw the opportunity in him.
Frustrated Mr. Mendez had set his eyes on Miriam a long time ago. He was in his early forties and a widower. He had seen her growing up to be a perfect mistress, an estate owner to the hilt. The age difference between them was substantial, but it was neither unusual, nor unheard of. Many young women were married off to the widowers with wealth and comforts. Many accepted that life willingly over the miseries of poverty that was assured to them if they married someone poor, but of their age.
The demand for dowry was always the problem for young women. Well-settled and educated families demanded enormous amounts from the parents of young women. Miriam's two approaches to marry by the arrangement, had failed because of this very reason. Men arriving from India to see her had departed after seeing the state of affairs at the De Costa mansion. The dilapidated building and unkempt conditions of gardens in the front, gave them the glimpses of poverty residing at the hearth. Without the courtesy meeting or negotiations, they had departed home. Those episodes had made a deep scar in Miriam's psyche and her resolve to bring back her grandfather's wealth and prestige became stronger. With the entrance to the governor's ballroom opened to her, she began her plans.
Marrying the Sr. Mendez she knew was well within her grasp. All she had to do was to drop a hint. For now, a key to reaching the old man was in her hand through this Apollo like dumb son. She instinctively knew that she could manipulate the fool but his father would be a difficult to handle. She also needed to know all about their business and personal holdings.
They went to the ball and she overcame the first obstacle. When Frank picked her up for the ball that evening, she was ready with the next strategic move. The young man raised by a father alone, was very awkward and uncomfortable with her. He felt inferior with most people he perceived as better educated. To him, she was no less than his high school teachers who spoke fluent European languages where he was struggling with English and the classic Portuguese. Most of the time young man hung around the common folks and primarily conversed with them in the vernacular, street languages. In front of sophisticated people, he remained tongue-tied. Frank had failed to clear seventh grade and showed no interest in his ancestral farming business.
Obviously, in her eyes Frank Mendez, a Wadi owner's barely educated son did not meet the criteria she had set for herself for conceive children only with the sperms coming from a superior gene pool. In that circumstances when she had decided to marry beneath her own status, it was essential that she did not conceive with Frank's input, but must seek a male who is of some prominence in the world to give her the high quality progeny.
Some anthropologist may attribute such thinking to her reptilian brain, which we the humans have inherited from our animal ancestors. The females in all non--human species always seek the best of the best males to mate in order to ensure better chance of survival of the species. In Marian's decision to follow that logic, one has to know her pre-marriage history.
In the turn of the 19th century, colonial holdings of all European nations in the Indian subcontinent were facing the political turmoil. The tiny colony of Portugal in Goa was undergoing social and political changes since World War I and Spanish Civil War. Relations between the native converted Catholics and their Portuguese masters were changing.
In Marian's mind, most important thing was the preservation of the prestige of her ancestry. She married Frank Mendez for two reasons, the first one being the land ownership. Mendez real estate consisted of a well-designed Spanish Stucco Mansion and a cash-crop producing farm that brought wealth. The second was the declining fortune of her own family. They did not have enough wealth left to come up with a dowry, which was expected out of a household that boasted, Bishops and Doctors. After few suitors came and left without engagement, because of lack of sums demanded, rumors about their misfortune began to float. As a pragmatic woman, she decided to lower her bar and with the help of a newly arrived young Priest, Naval De Melo from Mumbai, she got married to Frank Mendez for a paltry dowry.
Frank's father was delighted to have an educated daughter in law who showed more interest in learning the ropes of their business than in her husband who was a seventh grade dropout, and had no interest in the coconut trees or beetle nut prices.
The Miriam's working with the father in law suited Frank's lifestyle as well. His father gave up on the task of reforming him and got busy working with his new manager. Frank now had plenty of time to spend on the foreign bound vessels at the anchorage in the Marma Goa port. Long before the wedding, he had developed friendship with the seafarers and riffraff coming in and out of the bars and taverns. No one really knew what went on between the newlywed couple in the bedroom.
It did not take long for Frank to go after a 'Khalasi'(Deck hand) job after Miriam began giving him grief over his lack of ambitions, poor education and other stuff that did not meet her expectations of how a wealthy husband should live in a semi European, tradition laden society of Goa.
Soon Frank headed out to sea and his father, who had been a sick man, died happily knowing that his wonderful daughter in law had completely mastered the business and made them much more money in a year than he ever had in his lifetime.
Miriam achieved her first goal in a year-A wealthy woman with influence in the Church and the Portuguese Governor's Mansion. Not having her husband as an escort for the functions like Annual Christmas New Year Balls and the other Church activities, was not an issue at all. To fill in the gap, She had with her the handsome, Monsignor- Navel De Mello- Her family adviser for the matters related to religious and personal affairs. In fact, no one even realized Mr. Frank Mendez's absence until he showed up on a six-month long shore leave every two years.
After Frank's each two years arrival, Miriam got pregnant. Chronologically speaking, Pasqual, the first born came exactly in the month of October, the tenth month of her wedding in January of 1957 and after Frank had taken to sea right after their honeymoon in February.
Since then it became a predictable event associated with Frank's arrival in the spring of alternate years and a birth of a child in the months after his departure. Alice, followed the first born in 1957, Emanuel in 59 and Francis in 1961-The year of Goa liberation as the victorious Indians called that event.
There was no reason for anyone in Goa to wonder who was fathering the children. Other than birt of a child, Franks' voyages and visits to homeland had very little impact on the inhabitants of Mendez Mansion. Frank simply was an intermezzo in their pursuit of happiness which all family members waited to end as soon as began upon his arrival. The secret of children's progeny remained a secret until Miriam revealed it to Dr. Pasqual on her death bed.
The truth hidden from all other members of the Mendez family of Goa now became a secret of Dr. Pascal Mendez. It's impact on the future of his own and that of his siblings' lives, was extremely difficult to predict and to add to that, unexpected return of their long lost father and two step brothers in their tranquil life, had added a new dimension. The 'To-be, or Not-to-be,' dilemma was not just a Shakespearean cliche for the Doctor Pascal; it had emerged from a nightmare as real-life, emotional and moral storm.
"Should I reveal it to Frank and my siblings, or let the truth remain buried in my heart forever? Let me discuss it with my trusted friend and wife." Pascal concluded and headed towards his bedroom
| Author Notes | This a 23rd chapter in my novel, Chasing of the wind. Miriam had reveled the secret of fatherhood of her children to her oldest son,Dr. Pascal while on the deathbed. Now he is struggling with the dilemma; weather to share it with man known as his father and with his sibling? |
By Niyuta
Pascal gently pushed their bedroom door open and peeped in to see if Rosie had fallen asleep with the book she was reading resting on her breast. In fact, she was anxiously awaiting his arrival. How could she sleep with such upheavals happening to her, hitherto smoothly sailing life. She had planned many events to celebrate the arrival of her brother in law amidst them. Having a Roman Catholic Priest in her home would have boosted her standing in the society. However, in just few weeks since the arrival of Father Francis, all her plans for achieving an upward boost to her family's prestige had fallen apart. She had planned to work for the Church to run a mental health clinic since their kids could manage their routines on their own independent of her supervision and she had some free time. She wanted Dr. Pascal Mendez to begin cultivating relationship with the powerful and wealthy folks she had planned to bring in on that project. All that planning had to be put in a cold storage for now.
To add to that issue, she had to deal with â"? not quite presentable father in law staying with them, not just for that night, but possibly for good. She had not made any efforts to discuss anything about Frankie Mendez with her husband without knowing Frank's intentions. As a cautious mental health professional, she yielded to her instincts â"? wait until Pascue broaches the subject on his own; it would be advantageous to her when he reveals his feelings about the issue. That night, she remained wide awake way past her usual bed time waiting for him to enter the bedroom. Burdened with the family problems, keeping his worries so within himself is not a good thing to do. "He could not, or should not handle all this by himself! He must seek help." She thought and that night he came to her with the intentions of doing just that.
"I am glad you are not asleep yet," Pascue addressed her shutting the door behind.
"Just couldn't sleep with thinking about you're dealing with the situation all by yourself and I am not in the loop. It made me bit anxious that's all." Rosie replied.
He simply nodded his head and went to the bathroom to get ready for the bed. Rosie felt bit discouraged with that and began her retreat in her shell.
"I am not sure now whether to take initiative and make him spill the beans or just wait until he is ready!" She began evaluating the strategy that had formed by her subconscious mind. Not having any hint or a clue of his state of mind, she could do nothing but act like she was sinking in the deep sleep, before he came out of the bathroom.
Seeing her eyes shut, he addressed her in a gentle voice:
"Rosie, don't go to sleep yet, if you can; I must discuss some important maters with you that can't wait till tomorrow. I have a full schedule tomorrow and this is very important to let go onto another time."
Hearing the urgency in his utterance, Rosie not only opened her eyes but sat up instantly.
"Oh my God! Anything happened? I mean is Francis okay? He wasn't acting normal you know."
She suspected her brother in law got into some sort of troubles in the market where he has been hanging out with his stepbrothers.
"No; that is not our worry at this moment; he should be fine wherever he is spending night. He's used to doing that. I am referring to the immediate future of our family; I mean mine and my siblings' future to be precise, which of course will have some adverse effect on all of us."
Hearing that, Rosie in a totally lost state of mind, couldn't imagine what that event might be, that caused her usually strong and steady man act like he was in a panic situation. With eyes wide open, she searched for a clue on his visage and finding nothing but a seriously distressed man standing near her, she too began to panic. Naturally, that led to thinking of some terrible event, something like accidental death, has happened to either Alice, Emanuel or to both. She suppressed that line of thinking and waited to let him tell her the whole story and said,
"Well! What is it?"
"I need to bring you in on a terrible family secret that I kept buried deep in my heart since my mother's death in Rome. You were there with me and may remember that at the last hour of her life, mother had asked me to come in her room alone. She did not ask me to take any pledge of secrecy but left it up to my conscience to deal with that secrete. I did not divulge it to you because of its gravity and I needed time to hash it out the moral obligations thoroughly and understand the physical consequences on our lives, completely. I was going to wait for a while before burdening you with the knowledge of my ancestry. But this sudden appearance of Francis and Mr. Mendez has changed the equation drastically."
She did not like the prologue. It sounded like a yarn full of riddles and fictitious events.
"This has more mystery to solve, than to elicit any useful information for anyone to comprehend and determine the importance or the purpose," she thought. Again she said nothing but waited for him to continue.
With the mother's revelation and immediate death that followed, Pascue's mind had become numb at that time; partly with grief and also with anger towards the mother. However, at that time they were at a foreign place and also because of the presences of his step father, the Count, he had pushed that subject out of his mind. When other two siblings arrived, he found the courage deserting him. Instead of sharing the secret with his wife and siblings, he had rationalized the handling of this affair in his own way. 'Pragmatism is a good excuse for not sharing that secrete with anyone' he then had concluded.
"It serves nobody's interest and it makes sense not to dump more grief on my siblings," he thought and besides that, it hadn't sunk in him, how their inheritance was going to change legally.
Although the property of considerable value in Goa was willed to all three children by his mother, he felt uneasy as they were not the descendants of Mendez family, however at that time it was a non-issue because the sole legitimate owner, Frank Mendez had disappeared from the earth and after considerable time had elapsed, the sailor in question, was legally declared as a ' presumably dead' person. The court in Goa had settled the estate to his wife Miriam and all other claimants were denied the ownership rights. Everything looked in order then but the unexpected arrival of Mr. Frank Mendez from his watery grave (as was assumed then) on the scene, had changed entire legal rights scenario.
In Pascue's mind another personal fear had risen. During their courtship and after the wedding he had drawn a bit exaggerated picture about his grandfather and the considerable landholdings in front of Rosie. Based on that history, his wife had cultivated a great pride in him and his Goan family. She talked about it at places where she felt it added to her prestige and impressed the local friends. Her onerous belief that the Mendez clan was actually landed gentry from the Old Portuguese world got enhanced with the arrival of Francis Mendez, a Priest in the family. It meant something much more valuable to her than to Dr. Pascal Mendez.
However, when her father in law, Mr. Frank, with a weather beaten sailor's visage showed up at her door after a decade since she got married, and that grandiose image, which she had built in her mind of a Seafaring Captain with a white silky, flowing beard and a Mariner's Gold embroidered Peak cap, had crumbled. To add to that, Francis was not behaving like a Monsignor but acting like a mentally disturbed loose cannon ball, to give a small jolt to her overall sense of being part of a historical family who ruled the Portugal's Indian Colony.
Fortunately at that moment Frank was not put on a display in the country club or any other venues of social gatherings and she, now could skillfully avoid such occasions and do the damage control by not taking her eccentric brother in law out with her again. With that 'topsy- turvy 'mindset she waited to hear rest of the story that had a potential to set few seismic tremors, if not a full scale earthquake. She waited anxiously to face that eventuality.
While in the bathroom Pascue had evaluated his options. He had two options. So far Frank Mendez had not made even a cursory inquiry about his ancestral land or the estate, as if he did not want to do anything with his past. Let the old dog lay sleeping would be a wise choice indeed. It would be the most sensible one, and first option: Not to reveal the truth and wait for the old man really go to meet his maker in few years that means tell as little as needed to Rosie also and let her enjoy her illusions about the Mendez legacy.
The second option would require bring everyone on one page as far as the Goan property goes and avoid the guilt and fear of later exposures etc. But doing that had the practical consequences. They probably would have to share the estate with Frank's two Brazilian sons now and get it over with the problem once for all, unless they raise objections to equal sharing arrangements. This too could be done without revealing the true identities of Pascue and his sibling to the Mr.Mendez and his real family in Brazil. After all Frank never knew who was impregnating his wife just before he came home on a long shore leave every two years.
The estate was worth millions of dollars and all would get substantial amounts if it would be developed as a sea side resort. Since Miriam got married and left for Europe with the Duke. Emanuel had been managing the farm and the mansion, which is now converted into a Bed & Breakfast inn, was generating quite a handsome income. Emanuel with his family had been living in India all this time and could claim the property under the Indian Tenancy Reform Law that gave land holdings to the cultivators, when the real owners were the absentee landlords.
Apart from that, Emanuel had built their own wealth but additional millions wouldn't hurt anyone. This is where Pascue was stuck with the battle between the morality and the practical pragmatism. He knew by his past experiences that Rosie had lot more practical solutions up her sleeves than he could muster. Based on those qualities he admired in her, he made up his mind to bring her in not only pick one of the options for him but also to plan and execute it expeditiously.
Pascue organized his thoughts and began narrating the story of what Marian confessed to him and the priest in the room who came to perform the last rites. Without giving names, any historic details of their birth, and their early life in Goa, he told his wife the essence of that secret:
" Rosie darling, listen carefully what I am going to tell you. Alice and Emanuel and I, we three siblings are illegitimate children of Miriam and we do not know the name or whereabouts of our biological father. In essence, we have no rights to the Menendez family name or fortune."
When he ended the narrative with head bow down, seeing the tears rolling down on his cheeks she reached out to him with open arms. He lowered his head in her embrace and wept silently.
In spite of her tendency to plunge into the material world of upward bound Brazilian society, she had a kind heart and a sweet nature of a loving woman who prided in her clinical professionalism and carried a commitment to the faith in the Savior's guidance and love for the humanity. She loved her husband and his family ardently and sincerely. Now he had opened his heart to her and her motherly instinct had taken over her mind. With tenderness and in a loving voice she whispered in his ears:
"What difference does it make to us? I fell in love with you when I knew only your name; I married you when I knew only where you were going with your education. Since then I carried two precious childrenâ"? yours and mine, without knowing who your father was. What difference it is making now that I will never know who my father in law is or was? Let this not be a burden on your soul that your mother did not introduce you to your real father. Let us forgive her. We do not know her circumstances to judge her. May be her husband was a carrier of STD as many sailors do. Let us leave this behind and keep it berried with her and move forward with our lives. We have two gifts from God to nurture, guide and prepare them to their full potentials. We have work to do; let this not slow us down or impair us in any way. I love you for who you are; a great care giver, wonderful father and a fantastic lover of mine for my life. Let us sleep now and we will regroup tomorrow when we are free to decide what to do with our guest, Mr. Mendez."
With that speech, she made him to postpone his plans of making her the captain of his ship. Soon they fell asleep to carry on the life they had planned together when they got married.
| Author Notes | This chapter will make sense if you have read previous chapters of this novel, "Chasing of the Wind" in the Portfolio. |
By Niyuta
Sleeping late and waking up on time for taking care of the school days' routine is not a big deal for any household that has a school going child. Dr. and Mrs. Pascal Mendez had done that numerous times for the obvious reasons and also because of the professions they were practicing. Even though both slept so late the night before because of Pascue's disclosure of family secret to his wife, both had obligations to their professions and for the mother to complete the morning routines of sending children to schools on time.
Rosie did just that. She woke up finished her morning routine in the bathroom and stepped out in the corridor leading to the children's rooms. As a routine she softly called out her daughter Silvia to wake her up but to her astonishment, she did not hear the usual, "I'm up mummy; good morning." When she pushed the door it opened right away. The bed was not only empty, it was not slept in.
Bit alarmed by the absence of her 10 year old daughter in her bed, she rushed to check out Mark's room without calling him out. To her astonishment, she found no one in that room but found the evidence of two individuals having slept in one bed and a neatly folded bundle of bed sheets , blankets and a pillow on the chair.
"Oh my God! They both slept here with the Grandpa sleeping on the floor." She concluded and then heard the sound of giggling coming from the dining room bellow. With a quick glance she made the assessment that Mark had collected his school paraphernalia when he left the room and assumed that Silvia must have done the same. Hurriedly she descended the flights of steps and reached the living room and heard the conversation between the three absconding culprits:
"Come with us to bus stop grandpa; I want you to meet my friends; they are dying to meet you." She heard Silvia pleading Frank and then, "No, he is going to meet my friends first; I asked him last night." Mark insisted on exercising his rights on the grandpa because of a promise made to him before her.
"Now, both of you finish your pancakes and milk first and then we will work out something." She heard Frank the mariner trying to placate both.
"How am I going to handle this?"
That was the first thought popped in her mind. With his stories of high sea adventures and a natural friendliness gift, he had captured their attention, fired their imagination and gave that special love, one without conditions or imposing any conditions like not sleeping in each other's bed or staying up late on a school days of the week.
Out of curiosity may be, she remained silently eavesdropping on their chat. Then the sound of munching and slurping indicated that the kids were busy gulping down the food and in the next moment a soft sound of singing and humming came floating towards her. She moved forward to catch a glimpse of that scene. That happy Grandpa and his grandchildren having a unique moment of bliss indeed riveted her to the spot. No doubt, a touch of envy present in her mind made her to concentrate on the spying on them and she failed to hear her husband approaching from behind.
"What's going on darling?" Pascue spoke into her ear. Startled, she reacted with a gesture of silencing him.
"Watch them together. He has wrapped them up in his palms!" She whispered.
Parents watched the interactions between them for some time and finally realized, the time was of importance for all except the grandpa that morning. Pascue moved in with a morning greeting to Frank:
"Good morning father; you are up and about already. You could have slept little longer."
"No; I couldn't do that. I promised to accompany them to their school bus."
"They walk by themselves father." Pascue retorted without thinking.
"Well, they want me to meet their friends you see; and I agreed to that. First to Mark's bus, that I believe leaves before Silvia's and in half an hour it will be her turn. We are going out together."He informed them with a beaming smile on his face.
Now it was the mother's turn to say something about the old man's taking over the morning routine which otherwise wasn't as exiting as it was that morning. The humdrum stuff like grabbing a cereal bole, quickly finish the breakfast, take the lunch box from the housemaid Marisa and run out of the door after a hurried kiss to mom.
This morning, it was the grandpa who made pancakes for them before they came down. Normally that sort of sit at the table and eat breakfast was reserved for the weekend. On a week days the busy schedules of parents and children, no one had time to go through that sort of luxurious and slow pace routine and above all, feeding fatty foods before getting to class rooms was not considered a good idea according to a nutrition conscious and knowledgeable mom.
Well, Rosie's comprehension about the father in law's influence upon her darlings had began to take hold of her instincts. " You better do something about this routine breaking and discipline wrecking iron ball now," her subconscious mind warned her.
"Frank, today it is fine to drop them off to bus-stop, but they are used to doing their routine independently and I prefer that routine. Besides, their morning diets are also set for them to be successful in the classroom and not fall asleep." She not only addressed him by his first name, but there was an edge to her voice.
Pascue did not miss that and it surprised him that a gentle and considerate woman like Rosie would ignore the love and affection of the old man towards his grandchildren; at least for now, and sort of admonish him for doing something special for them on their first breakfast. He just couldn't come up with anything to jump in and soften the harshness in the developing conversation. Luckily, Rosie recovered from her nervous fit and walked up to old man and gave him a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek.
That flash of sharpness followed by an affectionate gesture, worked well for three adults and children's anxiety about not getting to take their adventures grandpa to meet their friends, disappeared with the smiling faces of the adults in the dining room.
"Common grandpa; we got leave now." Mark addressed Frank and that diffused the situation. Both the parents moved to finish their coffee and headed for their bedroom to get ready for the day.
When they got in the car, Pascue opened the topic of grandpa and his soon to be -May be adopted grandchildren.
"It's going to be a tough act Rosie to deal with the truth for all of us, if we do not decide how we can tackle this situation soon. Mark and Silvia appear to be deeply engaged with him; I mean emotionally attached."
"Yes, I see it and agree; we have to nip this in the bud. I can't afford to bring one upheaval after another in our life. First the uncle with adventures of Amazon and now grandpa to take them over to the Sindbad's voyages. Their focus, I am afraid will shift from the studies. I hope you will try and bring this affair to a satisfactory conclusion tonight if not by this weekend."
Yes dear; I get the point. I will come up with a plan and we will hash it out tonight. By Sunday, Francis ought to return home and we will settle the entire business of establishing a generally acceptable plan for living as an extended family or whatever next best thing that may emerge. Later we could set up a conference call with Alice in London and Emanuel in Mumbai."
He put the vehicle in the gear and they joined the traffic."
Each became detached from the domestic issues and focused their minds on the day's tasks of taking care of patients.
| Author Notes | To get some understanding of the topic involved here, it may be necessary to read chapter 23 and 24 before reading this one. |
By Niyuta
Frank Mendez's life from adolescent to old age shaped his idiosyncrasies. A clinical psychologist evaluating it probably would have described him as:
-- A male with a common place personality, average IQ and a mediocre life history.
In simple words any person who knew Frank intimately during his adolescent years would have described him as a dumb kid with a sly smile hanging on his face all the time. However, in reality Frank did not fit in that mold completely. Perhaps he chose to appear as one, during the normal human intercourses of life. If that psychologist had succeed in studying the activities of his hidden brain, which remained a secret to everyone, except Frank himself, he would have come up with a category to describe him as, 'NOS' (Not Otherwise Specified) in the catalogs of psychological profiles. In a strange way, Frank either was naturally endowed with one or later developed it while stepping into his youth. No doubt he had a highly developed sense of a perception; nothing escaped his cognitive brain's calculating autonomous system. He analyzed the events of his life to understand the causes by their effects; especial those that affected him profoundly.
One if the several reasons for him not displaying this ability to others, had to do with his building a bullet proof cocoon to hide his true self. Its construction began with the death of his mother when he was just ten as a self-protecting capsule because getting labelled as an indolent, borderline retarded, secretive and an introvert lad started after the sympathy for a motherless child eroded with time. His own father; a farmer cum businessman began the tirade against his son when he discovered that son had no interest in acquiring the education needed for the talking over the family business and management from him in due time. When the father himself joined the child bashing team made up of math teachers and the church officials, rest joined. Most of the educated and upper-class friends and acquaintances promptly branded him as such and did not miss any opportunity to belittle him.
Frank's father being a Wadi owner with substantial holdings in the Palm and other cash crops producing lands was busy doing the farming and marketing the products. He had a limited education but wanted his son to be a professional, sophisticated person like the Portuguese men living in the Goa at that time. His efforts to get son involved in the business failed and he began to get frustrated when he discovered that Frank had other ideas of building his own future. Frank hated the labor involved in the farming work as well as supervising the tenants and servants. He escaped from his classroom, church and father whenever he got a chance and spent his time on the wharf and beaches, dreaming about the exotic places he had heard from the visiting deck hands and admired the Portuguese seamen in navel uniform. His heart was set on floating away on a Merchantman heading out to ocean beyond the Arabian Sea to see every corner of the world.
Out of fear of getting ridiculed or just by his innate nature, Frank hid his thoughts from anyone. He avoided both the local events and people as much as he could just to escape from that perennial inquiry about his progress in the education field. By the time he turned nineteen his father gave up on him and began planning for bringing in a smart and educated daughter in law, if not a second wife for himself and when Miriam came in his view the first time, he went to see her father, an old school friend-- Dr. De Costa. The Doctor and his family had just returned from Spain. In the very first close encounter with her and after discussing few worldly affairs he recognized the opportunity that stood there for grabbing. His desired daughter-in-law, Mariam with the qualities he wished his foolish son had, sat in front of him, and rest is history. Frank with his perpetual indifference to the events happening in his life went along with the scheme as soon as he saw Miriam flirting with the old man and showing interest in his Wadi business. The very first series of thoughts his calculating secretive mind produced were:
"She will do what dad wants and it will keep him off my back. It is most likely to happen, that she will plunge into that sordid business of selling coconuts, tobacco, keeping books and managing money; that ought to give me the chance to be free of that ogre."
With these calculations, he went along with his father's plan to marry with as much enthusiasm as a child approaches a health worker waiting with a syringe to give a vaccination shot. Loaner as he was, with neither mother nor a sister around him to access his inner feelings, he went through the ceremony of 'I do' in a mechanical manner of a robot. The father-in-law received more congratulations than the groom and no one noticed the lack of excitement on Frank's face as they were busy hovering around the bride and her father in law.
Frank was glad when that was over and promptly went to bed on their first night and Mariam had to wait until morning to force him to consummate the marriage which she considered as an important duty of a married man. She was in extreme hurry for that occasion for the reasons she in her heart knew along with the young priest who married them. However, she did not know that her husband was not as stupid as he looked and his reputation in the community. Frank on the other hand had already figured that morning why his new virgin bride so anxiously wanting to complete the affair of d' amore. The secret behind Mariam's acceptance of him; a semi-educated, Dumbo in the matrimony had come to him by shear accident.
When their marriage was fixed, Frank was forced to go to church to learn the procedures and etiquettes of the Holy Church. The Catholic Church required that would be groom and the bride must have fully understood those canons of faith and the responsibilities and duties of a married couple. It included another matter of utmost important, 'how in a catholic way procreation and avoidance of it' is accomplished. In short, 'the Rhythm method of contraception. All newlyweds had to get educated on this procedure. The short course had to do with the how to be a man and woman and plan the procreation without incurring any sin. The groom got his lecture from a senior padre who told him that he would need instructions in the subject of solemn duties of a man as the head of the household and the conception business before a man takes the vows of marriage. Frank believed he had the complete understanding about how sexual activities are performed bisexually. His knowledge of this business was based on the talks with the folks working on the ships at the anchorage he used to hang out with when they were on shore furloughs plus there were enough stray animals performing the procreation duties on the open to educate everyone watching them how male and female organs had duel purposes. What he had learned however, was limited to what men do to women to make them hot and how it is physically done. He had no clue about the conception of life in the womb, except often heard the 'Immaculate Conception' which happened to a divinity chosen woman like the mother of the Lord.
"What in the world this old man, who never saw an adult woman without cloths, was going to teach me?"
This thought had crossed his mind as he was on his way to the Rectory for what he thought would be a lesson in sex education. Well it was indeed one "a La Carte' sex education from the Roman Catholic aspects which no one else had imparted on him before. Of course its importance had escaped him at that time.
The rhythm system involves proper timings for the intimacy. It is designed to avoid a baby producing intercourses, If the time to have child was not appropriate or desired.There are safe days in each month in a woman's ovulation cycle when the couple can perform the copulations as many times as both could handle and avoid the fertilization and conception. Alternatively, to improve the probabilities of fertilization and conception happening, the couple must perform the act on the three or more days when a woman is in the highly ovulated state.
The clergy taught course also had warnings associated with the processes of performing the sex act. The only joy permitted to couple during the intimate sex, according to the Biblical dictate, was that the joy the couple derive from it must be a byproduct of the procreation exercise, and not the primary reason for having sex. Any prevention of a pregnancy done by using any artificial objects, chemicals etc., was a sin that would bring the consequential wrath of the Father in heaven. In short, a man could enjoy sex anytime to relieve his tension but she cannot have the joy of it any time, except when it was performed to achieve the motherhood.
From the early adolescent period of his life, Frank's mind displayed one trait of high intelligence more than the other needed to succeed in the academic world. He had a keen sense of grasping the essence of issues arising around him. He rarely missed noticing anything unusual happening in the environs he was in. His life had gone just being around and watching the events without consciously participating in it. He would have become a successful spy or a detective if only anyone would have noticed that. Instead of that, he was ignored by everyone and father had instilled in him, an inferiority complex by calling him by nasty and derogatory names.
This time also, most of that boring sex lecture had escaped his mental storage and he had left the place of that ordeal, no more educated than he had entered. However that Rhythm business in entirety had made its way to his long-term memory. He needed more help than that clumsy speech to really understand that mystery called, 'Wife' and how to get or not get her pregnant. His buddies were useless source when it came to this business.
However, after that evening session with the priest, he learned about the women's reproductive cycles and the 'Rhythm' System of contraception from another trusted source. He decided to turn to his trusted old auntie Cecilia. As his mom's sister, she had become his caregiver after his mother's death. She was the only person who had high expectations of him and was the only source of kindness and admiration for his handsome face. That evening, the old aunt walked him through the whole manual on making babies:
"Remember how your mother used to sit away from everyone for three or four days locked up in the other room when even you couldn't go near her? That was the time she had that thing, called 'Period.' All matured women have to be like that every month and after that period is over, then a woman can go to her man but, mind it, next ten or so days, man cannot make baby, even though he puts that (she pointing at his penis), in her pussy and let go of the oil that makes the baby. For making her to carry a baby, he has to wait beyond that safe period and then put that oil in her every day for at least five days. If the woman does not get the period, then they are successful and she is pregnant and stays without the period until she gives the birth. It all begins again."
With this knowledge of baby making, it became crystal clear to him that the reason behind Mariam's consenting to marry him was not his looks but something else. With his habit of eavesdropping on his father's conversations, Frank had heard the young priest, Father De Melo telling his father that Mariam was not ready for a wedding in the first week of June because of the period dates. When he learned that the would be wife's Period days coming in the first week of June, he began to search ways to find out when her period dates would fall in July, the moth they were scheduled to get married. Then he accidently learned that a woman would not enter the Church for the days of the month when she would be considered unclean. Suspicious about her motives, he kept track of her coming and going to church during the first week of July; the 3 days of 'period'. He called on her everyday during that week and checked with the Church employees if she had visited the parsonage. Her regular visits to meet the young priest in seclusion gave his suspicion of her having an affair with him a possibility; a real answer to the riddle of his marriage had emerged-she was with his child and that's why she had no unclean days at all. That was good enough for him to plan his escape to the sea, right after they got married. As it is the fine woman he was to marry, spoke fluent French, Spanish, Portuguese and English and her sophisticated, and vivacious personality, intimidated him to a point that his natural sexual instinct were all but dead. The local young women from his Wadi played with him and gave the sexual excitements, whenever they were together alone since he had turned sixteen. In fact, one voluptuous young woman from the servant's village had succeeded in getting in his pants when he was just a teenager. He wanted her more than the woman he was to marry soon. He was comfortable in the company of his equal as she definitely did not make him feel inferior to her. This young woman, Malti was her name, was the daughter of the former owner of that farm. Frank's grandfather had loaned him a large sum for her dowry and wedding. Malti and Frank were childhood sweethearts but their religion and her lower cast had made the union impossible and they were aware of this ground reality. However, on the second day prior to her wedding date, they managed to meet in their secret place for the 'one last kiss' and in that lover's parting moment, both lost their virginity. Few months later, Malti returned to her father's home, pregnant and a widow. By the time Frank got married she had a three month old son and was working on the farm which was now owned by Frank's dad as Srikant Khot, Malti's father had failed to pay back the loan and had to lose the farm.
Well, that knowledge he acquired from his aunt, came to his use when the newlywed went on the honeymoon to Marma Goa, the port city near Punji. He didn't have much to say to his wife and she spoke to him only about his future plans. To his relief, she went to sleep pretending that the journey made her tired. Sitting in that hotel room staring at her, he in his head had calculated that she was in that safe period according to that Rhythm period thing. He simply got out, went to a Merchant Marine Club and found few acquaintances. They got drunk together, sang the Konkani and Portuguese Songs, danced with the women and fell asleep until dawn.
When he returned to his room, it was midday and found out from the hotel clerk that Mariam had gone shopping. He ate a hearty lunch and went to bed. When she returned it was past six in the evening. They smiled at each other and without much ado about the day, moved onto the next phase. She was pleasant to him and did not inquire about his absence of previous night as if it was her fault he had to go out. When they returned home next day, their marriage was still not consummated. That week passed and that was the last day of July and in few days she would have to have her period which she knew had not come in the June and wasn't going to come in July. As a pregnant bride, she became desperate to ensure that the conception is a legitimate one, Somehow she had to catch him before he could escape into the night.
Like a predator feline, waiting in the grass, she waited patiently behind the bathroom door without a stich and as he came out with a towel around his waist and a song on his lips, she literally ambushed him. Without much of foreplay she forced her way; sort of raping him. He did not enjoy it and she made sure his semi-erected shaft head had entered her. Having made him to discharge in her vagina, she had accomplished the task of consummation. Helplessly he let it happen and when it was over, he cleaned himself and walked out of the house to disappear in the world he was comfortable in. She pricked her finger and put few drops of blood on the bedsheet for the old maid to see and gossip that would protect her progeny and herself from the stain of illegitimacy. The weeks rolled and she did not get her period in July. Her jubilant father-in-law announced it to the world by giving a huge party. Frank had a great laugh at that foolish father's jubilant boasting. He slipped out of the Mendez Mansion and spent time playing with Malti's son; no one missed him.
Here sitting on that bench near the school bus stop in Sau Paolo, Frank was reliving that day. That day he instinctively and by his own calculations had known that his wife was pregnant when he married her and that forced act of consummation of marriage he was put through, as he understood later, was a planned thing to make that pregnancy a legitimate conception. When Pascue came in the world, Frank had already left home on the Africa bound vessel as a Khalasi (seaman). After that, he arrived home on shore leave during her safe period and yet she carried three more children in the similar manner. Each time he played possum and let the things go on as they were set by the destiny. To him their marriage and aftermath of it was a fraud no different than the card shark's tricks played on him in a three card poker. It was that alien world where he lived and despised and ran away from. When he left them during her last pregnancy, he took an oath never to return to his native land nor care for his ancestral estate from which his father had alienated him. In Brazil he met a Mulatto woman with two small boys. She reminded him of that woman who in his adolescent years had introduced him to sex. He married her and together, they raised her two boys and eventually opened that restaurant in Pinheiros in the Pra Benedito Calixto Squaro.
That morning, sitting in Sau Paulo suburb, he was wondering how he was going to break this newly acquired bond with a son and his children who were carrying his name but not his genes. The legal intricacies of real estate and ownership claims were not even in his thinking. He lived a very happy and content life of his own choosing and was not willing to give it up now. Grandpa he thought was just a temporary novelty to the children and their attraction to him was a passing phase. Once he runs out of adventure stories, they would move on and their mother would make sure that they stay on the course; one that may not allow them to stop at the station called grandpa's domain.
On the way home from the children's bus stop, he was searching for a way to let Pascue, Rosie and children know that he couldn't leave the restaurant for his two sons to manage all by themselves and he must return home as soon as they could let go of him. Frank had no way to know the other issues Doctor and his wife were battling with.
" I'm going to be straight out and up front about it; I just don't belong to their world," he thought, just like the day he left his father's villa, on the Africa bound vessel thirty plus years ago.
When he arrived at Doctor and Rosita Mendez's Villa, the housemaid was waiting for him. Both Rosie and Dr. Pascue had called to check on him and told her to wait at the door to admit him in the house.
| Author Notes | This is a chapter in a novel, Chasing of the Wind. You may have to read last two chapters the fully grasp the story in this chapter. (The weird 'stuffA??' appearing in one sentence with Portuguese names is the fault of this word processor software. I can't edit it). |
By Niyuta
By the time Frank returned to Mendez Villa, an hour had passed and the housekeeper waiting to open the door for him had left her post thinking that he must have gone somewhere, perhaps for taking morning stroll, or exploring the neighborhood. Frank rang the bell a few times but the woman was doing the laundry in the rear end of the house and did not hear it. He paused for few more minutes and tried the bell again and realized that he was indeed locked out.
He thought of banging on the door but then gave up the idea as impractical. “If they can’t hear the bell, then banging noise wouldn’t make any difference,” he concluded, then slowly stepped back, turned around and went onto the pavement. A city bus approaching caught his attention. It was a public transportation bus he recognized immediately. It was the circular travel City Transit System’s bus that went through downtown hub from where one could switch to any of the buses traversing in all directions. Frank as a longtime resident of Sau Paolo knew the city as well as its transportation systems very well. He had used it all his life after settling down in the low-rent, rundown side of the city.
He waved the operator and in few minutes was on the way to his home in Pinheiros. It was an hour and half long circuitous route that passed through his neck of the woods. The bus was practically empty and he went back of the bus and sank in one of the seats that hid him from the view of the driver.
In spite of his well-developed skills of hiding emotions, at that moment Frank’s face betrayed that tale tell affect, the stresses an emotional war between the human mind and subconscious desires produces. That perpetual struggle to take control of the events determining the future of one’s existence we face every day is indeed a frightening conflict. No matter which side wins; the loser is the owner of both; the mind and the subconscious desires—the person. Frank was worried about not one but many things that he had avoided facing throughout his life. That had been his life’s most successful strategy—the Chasing of the Wind as Bible describes in the Ecclesiastes section. It says:
“I, Qoheleth, have reigned in Jerusalem over Israel. With the help of wisdom I have been at pains to study all that is done under the heaven; oh, what a weary task God has given mankind to labor at! I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and what vanity it all is, what chasing of the wind!”
Deep in his or her heart, everyone knows it is a futile exercise of self-deceptionwhen one is drawn to something in spite of known perils the attraction can deliver and yet go ahead with the quest. Frank had realized perhaps too late in his life that when he made the choice of becoming a lowly deckhand, rather than a landed aristocrat married to a fabulous woman, it was the first step towards that chase. It took him away from the reality of material world in which the Ying-Yang events of life—some giving unending pleasures of human existence for a short period and then the unbearable pains of a lonely life for a long period. Yet the courageous one to take that chance and plunge into the uncharted waters of that possibility. Frank had walked away from the stability of life for the reasons he really never stopped to search. He just floated on the oceans of the world, living among the other chasers of wind like himself. Now at the end of his voyage the destiny finally caught up with him. That entire load of existence the humanity must carry while living on this planet, because of the first sin, one that the Genesis says Adam and Eve committed. Frank had hitherto dodged it but at this juncture, the providence had placed it in front of him while closing all the escape routes shut. The yoke of family life finally he had to shoulder and adopt the ways of living in a so called norms of the formal society; one that he had run away from in his youth. Was he willing to do that in exchange for the joy of living with sophisticated namesake son, daughter in law and his adorable grandchildren remained to be seen?
He enjoyed the time he spent with the kids he knew were not of his bloodline and the loving hospitality of his step son and daughter in law immensely and yet, he was unable to decide what he really wanted. Heading back to his own pad on the bus, he was battling with the emotional storm much worse than the one he had faced on the Atlantic and Indian oceans during his Mariner’s life.
Lost in his thoughts he did not realize that the bus had passed through his neighborhood and was at her last stretch. When it stopped at the depot; driver missed his presence on the bus and was about to lock the bus for the night. Frank got up and called him out and the surprised driver allowed him to get out. It was already noon time and he was few miles away from home. He lit a short, hand-rolled cheroot and began walking towards home.
Dr. and Mrs. Mendez home was all quite because everyone was out at work or in the school and the housekeeper was dozing off. It was about half past three, when Rosie got free to make that call to see if kids had come home on time. After several rings, the woman responded.
"Olá"!
"Procure o Sr. Frank."
"Ele não está aqui; Não voltou de manhã."
( Hello; get Mr. Frank.)
( He is not here; did not return in the morning”).
There was no point asking anymore questions so Rosie gave her instructions to make sure kids are back home safe and hung up. She wondered where he may have gone but then brushed that subject out as she had to deal with the routine paper work. By evening both husband and wife began discussing Frank’s absence when kids badgered them with questions about their grandpa’s return.
“Did you ask him what he had planned to do all by himself?” She asked her husband.
“No! That thought did not enter my mind at all.” Pascue admitted.
“Well; I can’t say he is a kind of person who would enjoy Maria’s company or for that matter enjoy any soap on the Television.” She remarked.
“Nor he would have pulled a book off the shelf or taken a nap.” Pascue added to that.
They moved on to other domestic matters and it really did not disturb the family that the old grand mariner had not returned home and supper was almost ready. When the dinner time came and everyone arrived at the table, the Menendez family became anxious about Frank’s where abouts
.
“Does he have a cell phone?” She put out a question for anyone at the table to answer.
“May be he has it but I do not seem to have noticed it in his hand.” Father replied and then retorted, “even if he does have; who has the number? I don’t. Do you have?" He addressed the last part to his children. When both shook head in negative and looked helpless; the mother spoke:
“I get a feeling he went home to get something he needed badly and may show up tomorrow; if he doesn’t by this evening. Let us eat and worry about it later.” She closed the topic and rest of the evening passed in the routine way.
By bedtime, children had forgotten the grandpa but Pascue did not. Dr. Pascue had not come up with any ideas as how to let Frank in on his wife’s secret of their births and the other issues related to the prime real estate that came from Frank’s forefathers to him.
“He has to decide what he wishes to do with it as he is the sole and last legal owner without any children to inherit it.” Pascue thought.
“Knowing his indifference to the normal way of living, I bet he does not have a will made,” the doctor concluded in his mind.
The situation was taking toll of his peace of mind. Pascue was especially worried about his two younger siblings—Emanuel and Alice. Emanuel lived in India and had been managing the estate in Goa and Alice, married to a British citizen and settled in England was quite keen on her claims on the estate. He himself did not care much about these things when he was pursuing higher education and now he had become more indifferent to ownership of that property ever since he learned about his and sibling’s illegitimate births. Besides that his wife had considerable wealth inherited from her family. Francis being an ordained minister of church was not in the picture at all. Besides that he was the only legitimate child among them because of Dukes marriage to their mother. That made Francis the only surviving hair to the title and vast interest in Europe. What a complicated twisting of their fate! But who the twister is; the Almighty God or simply the circumstances that they will not be able to discover. Then why bother with the analysis at all? Getting all the pawns on the board was the only task remained under that circumstance.
| Author Notes | To fully understand the story reader has to tread few chapters before this one all part of the novel, " Chasing of the Wind." |
By Niyuta
After tucking her precious treasures in their respective beds, Rosy wanted to return to her boudoir directly. She was about to pull the door behind her when she heard her daughter's voice;
"Mommy!"
Rosy turned around to face her with a question mark on her face.
"Has grandpa gone for good? Did you send him away?"
"No dear, he went to his home to fetch something he forgot. Dad is going to bring him back tomorrow." The astonished mother replied and left Silvia's bedroom wondering why her children felt that way and assumed that she was the cause of his absence.
The brief conversation in the bedroom sent a chill in her body. The thought that her children perceived her actions as a cruel act, bothered her immensely.
'Why would they think in this way? I always have been a welcoming host and did not fail to show my affection to their grandpa and yet Silvia harbors a doubt about the sincerity of my acts."
Rosie began exploring what and who would be doing the implanting of that specific line of thinking.
"Who is responsible for giving them this impression? I must find out the implanting source before such image of a cruel mother becomes firmly embossed on their psyche."
She stopped to think and then in a flash it became clear to her.
"Grand Ma Agnes must have called to check if I got rid of Frank or not. That woman is relentless when she thinks she is protecting me. This will not do; I must speak to Silvia right now."
Rosie turned back and entered her daughter's bedroom and called her out softly.
"Are you sleeping darling?"
"No mamma; I am awake."
"I had to come back to clarify this doubt in your mind about me my dear Silvia. Did you speak to grandma after you came home in the afternoon?"
"Yes; she asked me if Franky was home. Why does she not like him; how insulting it is to call him Franky like he is her cook. I didn't like that and wanted to hang up on her but couldn't. She was so happy when she learned he was gone for good and said, 'Good riddance; for once; your mother listened to me.' She was going to say something more but I hung up on her. She called again and Maria answered and they were talking for a while. Maria tells her everything that goes on here mommy."
"Well, I am going to fix that tomorrow morning but I came back to tell you again that your Papa and I love him as he is and I don't want you to think any other way. But remember, he has spent good number of years on the ocean going boats. He lived alone most of his life. Often persons like him, get accustom to that life away from relatives and family friends. It will take some time for grandpa to adjust to our family life and new friends. We have to work hard to make him feel wanted and loved. Now take that thought and the worry of losing him out of your mind and make sure Mark does not have same impressions about me. Now go to sleep; it is past your bedtime." She kissed her forehead and was happy to recognize that her little girl was maturing properly.
However the task, for which she has been preparing herself over the week, had become more difficult for the entire family. Frank in a short stay had planted in children's harts so much love and admiration for him--their only living grandpapa in the world, one with unconditional love and so much full of stories of adventures he faced in life. No one in their class or for that matter, in the whole school had such a special grand pappy as Frank. Not having him around would definitely hurt them she thought. But then the other end of the spectrum was her mother with those aristocratic attitudes of days she was raised in and now seen in the old re-runs of 'Mark of Zorro' flicks. Not fully accepting and fully inviting Pascue in her concept of an extended family just because his lineage was not linked to any European royalty, Contessa had created a fault line between her and Dr. Menendez's family. At this moment that was not the main concern to Rosie. Her mind now became occupied with the process of developing the idiosyncrasies of her children. Both parents had done their utmost to keep Aggie's presence in their life to a very minimum. Grandma was prohibited from taking children to her favorite activities of exposing them to wealthy gentry of the old quarters nor could she lavishly spend on them. Gifts for the occasions were approved by Rosie beforehand and all unapproved items were returned to sender before children could see them. Aggie complained bitterly but gave in when Pascue threatened her to migrate to the USA.
"No one is going to influence our children with their wealth and plant a seed of contempt for their parents by buying the items which they want for keeping up with the peers which their parents deny; telling them they can't afford. This poison destroys the cohesiveness of a close knit family."
Pascue had explained to Rosie when he made her to return the expensive clothing and toys the ever indulging grand ma brought the first time in their home at her will. It happened after getting a feedback from Maria who eves dropped on their discussions and let the old woman know what kids wanted and did not get. When Rosie saw the consequences of that seemingly unimportant, kind act of a grand ma from his point of view; she implemented it vigorously. That night she was visiting that past and another series of thoughts popped up in her mind.
"What if old Frank the sailor refuses to join the family? With her mother's snobbery and pungent tongue, a clash of the personalities is a distinct possibility and avoiding their meeting is impossible. Aggie would make sure that she confronts him when no one is home, just to find faults with Frank's looks and appearances. Maria the spy, by now must have given her all accounts of what has happened and the peculiarities of his bourgeois personality. Frank being a free spirted mariner with a vast vocabulary of unimaginable cuss words and epitaphs at his disposal would sure to react to her jabs and may deliver some well deserved but shocking verbal punches with equal ferocity."
Standing in the corridor outside the bedrooms, Rosie began to develop all sorts of scenarios of their confrontations. Lot was at stake for her. Speaking on a practical front of achieving a successful professional life in a Solo Practicing Physician settings, the success often depends on quickly acquiring few trappings of wealth and fame. It becomes necessary part of the unwritten marketing rule for the professionals like Attorneys and Clinicians. Being admitted in a Country Club as a member with full coverage is one of those coveted trappings. Dr. Pascue Menendez's approval for a full membership in the Rio's prestigious Country Club was almost complete. Mother had told Rosie in confidence.
Aggie could as easily knock that possibility as easily she had pushed it a year ago. What if she felt association with her son in law's father would give enough ammunition to her enemies in the friend's garb, to knock her down from the pinnacle she had been occupying in their social order for several years? Whimsical tyrant as she had become, she would even scratch Rosie off her will.
None of that mattered to her husband but it meant a lot to her personally. In her mother's long list of grievances against her daughter, becoming a Nurse was the first cardinal sin and marrying a Goan Doctor with nothing to show save a medical degree was the next. To add to that, two more relatives-- and commoners at that, had come to live with them. Everything that happened to Rosie did not sit well in Aggie's aristocratic sense of right living. She would have accepted the man of cloth but then his behavior, as Maria had reported, did not look promising either. In the beginning, a rumor that Father Francis was honored by the Pope himself had raised Aggie's status considerably with the Bishop in Rio, but the unorthodox behavior similar to that of another Francis from Assisi reported to her by her mole, had dashed that hope of getting to privately kiss the Papal Ring in the Vatican.
When Dr. Menendez and Rosie began their married life, they rejected her offer to house them in her villa. Even after her first grandchild came in the world they refused to move in with her. That was another item on the Contessa's long list of causes for not liking her son in law. She blamed him for everything that was wrong in her opinion in the life of her only daughter. A beautiful daughter of European royal ancestry married to a Colonial commoner with a not quite the right shade of whiteness, was a disgrace in her mind and his success in getting an MD from the prestigious American Medical University did not reduce the unfitness of his birth when it came to moving among that decaying left-over society of the aristocracy in Brasilia; a former colony of Portugal in the Americas.
Rosie knew in her heart that reaching a decision that night was of paramount importance to them because the sordid affairs of the Brothers Mendez was becoming like a modern but limited version of the episodes from Fyodor Dostoyevsky's 'Brothers Karamazov' novel. With that frame of mind, Rosie entered the bedroom with her emotions frayed, brain tired and mind unsettled. Carrying this fresh load on her mind, her face betrayed the emotions in spite of the attempts to hide them and her husband but a specialist in analyzing the human psyche, he picked up the scent of those emotional storms she was battling with in her mind.
"Looks like some fresh trouble with that young man in Silvia's school hitting on her again, is it?" He assumed it to be the natural troubles every parent goes through when their adolescent children begin to react to their hormonal changes.
"Spoke like a worried father who has a beautiful adolescent daughter attracting the attentions of boys." Rosie replied.
She tried to avoid him probing the real issue; her mother's unwanted intrusion. She was going to have it out with her mother later in the morning without Pascue's involvement in the sordid affair. However the important task of reaching the decision of what to do with the in laws amidst them remained unresolved. It has to be done post haste without hurting anyone; especially her fast growing but vulnerable children.
She headed for the toiletry chamber mainly to get composed and to organize thoughts and information in her mind. When she returned in her pajama, he was waiting for something else on his mind. He wanted love and comforts in her arms. Looking in his eyes that amorous desire; she dropped all her worries and put away that emotion filled package to be opened some other time. In their hectic work schedules and stress filled professions, tender moments were rare; she obliged him with passionate amore of a newlywed maiden. Merciful sleep took them away from the troubles after they made love and enjoyed the bliss of oblivion.
Every Friday morning has a special significance for the working class people who are lucky enough to have a weekend off to enjoy or do things as they please. Anticipation of the planned events often gives extra dose of the Serotonin Adrenaline than the events. Dr. Pascal and Mrs. Mendez being the healthcare providers had very few such weekends. However this weekend was an exception; they were free by arrangement but for both the Friday duties had to be completed. A round table meeting of all living adult members of the Mendez family was to take place on the Saturday late morning and Pascue had planned to go with Rosie to bring both, Frank and Francis home after hospital round in the evening.
Pascue used a term for such a close and private meeting, 'Huddle'; something an American Football team does when in the offensive mode to plan a strategy for the attack. In short, conduct a meeting in total secrecy and with a precise plan of achieving the stated goal without any opportunity to kick the can down the street--a metaphor often used to describe avoidance of decision making and putting it off to another vaguely futuristic time.
That Friday morning Rosie got ready for the day's routine. She quickly informed Pascue that she had decided to fire Maria. Sending her long time housekeeper, back to her mother's place permanently was a necessity of the hour even though Maria had come with her from the mother's establishment when they got married to assist her in setting up her first home; that was twelve years ago. A temporary arrangement that became permanent when Silvia was born in the first year of their married life. That mole planted by Aggie amidst them, moved with the furniture whenever they changed the residence.
In the beginning they needed child care and Maria's presence was the perfect arrangement at that time. With fresh out of medical school with debts, they were thankful to Aggie for picking up the tab for Maria's services. However, because of such third party payer relationship between the homeowners, the housekeeper and their benefactress, the situation in their home became bit tense from the very beginning. It did not develop as smooth as the new parents wanted. It perhaps would have, if Dr. Mendez had paid her wages and had the stomach to deal with the domestics.
Maria, the other woman involved in this family drama came with her own personality. One finds such haughty attitude, a typical one, in the servants of extremely wealthy establishments. These individuals acquire or develop high ego and a cold temperament. It perhaps comes from their close and personal association with the most powerful persons of that family. Something akin to the attitudes a butler of a rich English household often displays towards the gentiles.
Maria treated Rosie as her permanent protégé who married a doctor--a working class person with no historical lineage to brag about. She brought that attitude; albeit enforced by the often heard criticism of Dr. Mendez from her real mistress living alone in the old mansion in the very exclusive sector of the old city. 'Married beneath her rank; a social sin!' Remarked Aggie to her and Maria agreed completely laying the first layer of contempt for the son in law right after the wedding which grew gradually as the years rolled.
After arrival of Father Francis and then the Frank amidst them, that relic of the past, promptly telephoned Aggie and gave her the full load of Dr. Mendez's ancestry. In reality, Frank's real estate in Goa was worth thousand fold larger than Aggie's old mansion and all other valuables. Ignorant of this fact, she added more negative layers to her contempt of Oldman and his sons. She displayed it in a quite subtle but effective means. By her body language and when opportunity came to disobey Rosie, as she had done by not opening the door even though she had heard Frank's ringing of the bell after returning from the bus stop where he had gone to seeing his grandchildren boarding the school bus.
That was one of the many acts of defiance to Rosie's orders she got away with in the past. Rosie had warned her many times of firing her. She really wanted to replace her but Pascue would not agree to that solely because he looked at those insolent acts as Maria's loyalty to Aggie, motherly feelings towards the child she raised and the grandchildren of the Contessa. She rarely interacted with the man of the house and he avoided direct dealing with the old woman.
"It is hard to find an honest and loyal housekeeper; just ignore her. The woman is old and perhaps frustrated. As far as your mother's behavior towards me goes; I don't much care about her opinion about me. She is what she is and don't expect her to change at this late stage of her life; just learn to ignore her and humor her if you can."
This or similar advices he gave her each time Maria acted upon her instincts and infuriated Rosie. This morning Rosie had decided not to discuss the matter with her husband but take a firm and quick action on her own. At that juncture, she had become a risk that Rosie could not afford to ignore any longer.
As soon as she entered kitchen, she called Maria in and without giving any explanation told her to make arrangements to leave by evening. Old woman did not expect that abrupt dismissal and was getting ready to tell Rosie that her employer; Contessa-- Aggie, did not tell her to leave the job when she spoke to her day before. At the same moment, Pascue walked in and heard the last part of their conversation.
"What is going on? What Aggie has to tell Maria?" He questioned and expected a reply from either of them. No one replied and the interaction between the women continued:
"Maria! I want you to leave right this minute; get out or I will throw you out myself." Infuriated Rosie thundered.
No one had seen her this incarnation before and children arriving for breakfast stopped in their tract. Silvia at once realized that previous night's bedtime talk had to do something with the scene unfolding and she stopped Mark from entering the dining room.
Dr. Pascue recognized the significance of the moment and decided not to interfere. Haughty Maria could not handle the injury she suffered to her psyche and at once withdrew to her room for collecting the stuff. Promptly, Rosie took the phone off the hook to prevent Maria using the extension line from her room.
In half an hour, she heard the old lady leaving the house while muttering her insolent rants. Meanwhile, children silently finished the breakfast and left for the school.
When things got quiet, husband and wife got together in the kitchen. The calmness of the ambiance of their home at that moment would have deceived any observer entering at that moment but the slowly awakening volcano beneath the surface was gathering the plasma; waiting to find a weak spot on the crust of Rosie's professionally trained psyche. As an expert in the diagnosing the unseen forces of human mind which cause the breakdowns, Pascue recognized the signs of impending eruptions just the way a seismologist reads the data of subterranean activities of an earthquake prone region. He was now treading on the fissure that finally appeared on his beloved Rosie's stoic face--an unseen persona indeed. At once he opened the talks with a question mark on his face and bewilderment in his eyes.
"What happened darling? I never saw you agitated to this extent. Maria must have pressed the sensitive buttons or she did do something really nasty to make you angry. I wonder if you would share the cause of it with me. Maria has been with your family since you were a child and so far you have been managing the stresses she has been causing admirably well. We both know occasional anger is useful in the appropriate circumstances. I presume one such occasion has risen. Please bring me in the loop."
Rosie's mind was still in that percolating state and was not sure to what extent she should share the information with her husband about how deep Silvia's mind may have been affected by her mother's manipulation, antiques and interferences in the Frank's presence amidst them. She felt trapped in a conflict like situation, where getting out was as difficult as living in it. The way out without snapping the family ties with her mom was not possible; at least not now. Sharing this sort of--if you do or don't and either way you are damned,' situation with husband is a painful act any woman may experience when her own parents or the siblings are causing it. Perhaps same applies to a married man too, when his mother tries to keep that tenuous hold on her boy even though he is an adult.
Her delayed response to his inquiry sounded like Rosie was not willing to share with him the cause of conflicts she has been having with her old nanny and the present housekeeper. Pascue did not press the issue but the urgency of settling the matters like Frank's status and the disposal of his ancestor's estate could not be postponed. That morning he wanted to discuss it over a cup of coffee with his wife. "This is that 'Hobson's Choice' situation." He muttered and turned around to go back upstairs to get ready for the clinic.
Sensing his disappointment in not getting the answer Rosie snapped out of her angry state of mind and said,
"Pascue; wait; don't leave me fighting this alone. I need you."
He turned around and she rushed into his arms, sobbing. He held her to his heart, stroking gently her head. She wept for a minute or so and her mind calmed with the knowledge of his understanding heart. Pascue picked her up and took her to living room and sat on the divan with her clinging on to his torso with her face buried in his chest. He spoke gently in a whispering manner as if he was going to initiate a romantic interlude.
"Take a deep breath; let things go. Believe me firing Maria is the great way of discontinuing the harmful links of your past. We have to look forward towards raising Silvia and Mark. Arrival of Francis with his neurotic personality and discovery of Frank has added to that challenge. What we do in the next few days will have an impact upon all of us; especially upon the children. I need your wisdom, the strength of your convictions and a mother's perspective more than anything else. Whether we like it or not; for now they are my relatives and I am the oldest among four. My mother chose me to sort out her affairs and I cannot do it alone my love. Don't waste your energy on Aggie and her ways. She used to commanding the situation and now having no one around to give her an opportunity to interfere, she is restless and worried that she will be forgotten. She believes you will be left alone to deal with the Menezes clan and I being a member, may not support you emotionally. Give her some time; she will come around; don't you worry. We should not and will not abandon her. Let us deal with the urgent businesses as soon as possible. I want you to take a mild dose of Valium and take rest. We will tackle this problem together this afternoon."
He kissed her forehead and wiped the tears off her cheeks. She tried to smile but couldn't. Together they went upstairs to their bedroom. She took a valium and went to sleep after calling her work to inform them she would do the second shift. Dr. Pascue got busy with the morning routine and left for the clinic.
| Author Notes | In this chapter the continuing saga of problems caused by Frank Menendez's presence in the household of his son Dr. Pascual and his wife Rosie. If you read previous few chapters you will get the full picture of events many of us have faced in our lives. |
By Niyuta
That Friday was a special one for Dr. Pascale. He kept the work schedule relatively light and told his manager not to disturb him unless it was a dire emergency which the Doctor on call could not manage. That evening was set aside to commence the process of settling all issues related to Frank Menendez, his step children and the real estate of a considerable value. The first order of the day for Dr. Pascue was to locate the Oldman and convince him to return to his home where two grandchildren were anxiously waiting for him. The order of proceeding in this task was changed at the last minute by Rosie. Her insistence that in order to remove the effects of malignant act of inserting doubts in the minds of children that their mother really did not want their Grand Papa to live with them, it was necessary that Frank was at the dinner table that night. Rosie herself could not accompany her husband in bring the important man back because for the first time she had left children alone at home after the school. Besides that, she did not have Maria to start the preparation of evening meals.
When Dr. Pascue reached the restaurant cum residence of Frank and his children, he expected to find Francis and his two step brothers working in the restaurant. He stood at the entrance for a minute or two peeping in the dining area but he didn’t locate any of them and a young man came out with a question.
“One?”
“No; I am here to meet Mr. Frank or Father Francis.” Doctor responded.”
The man nodded and made a gesture—to follow him.
He took Pascue to an office in the back and a middle-aged man got up from the chair to meet them as he saw them coming.
“Can I help you sir?” He enquired.
“Yes; I am Dr. Menendez; Mr. Frank’s son. Where is everybody; I mean Francis and Mr. Frank?”
The man hesitated for a moment and said,
“Please take a seat; I have to tell you something that is not easy to say.”
Pascue sat down and said,
“I can handle it man; I am a doctor; is anyone here injured or fell ill? Tell me quickly.”
“Mr. Frank has suffered a heart attack and probably had a stroke too. They just took him to hospital and I was looking for your telephone number in the book when you walked in.”
There was no time to lose and Dr. Pascue knew which hospital the Paramedics would take a patient with those morbidities. He rushed to his car and thought of calling Rosie but then decided not to until he found out the details of this casualty. He called the Hospital das Clinicas da Universidade de São Paulo. The casualty department recognized him and confirmed that Frank was brought to them and a team was working on him. Pascue knew the routine and knew he will not get any more information on the patient at that moment. He hung up the phone and reached the ER in twenty minutes.
“What a twist of fate!” He remarked as he parked the car.
“I wonder how many new turns are yet to come. What would Rosie say to Children if Grandpapa doesn’t make it? Will they blame her for this mishap too?” In his mind he was analyzing the facts and working on the plans as if she was his patient.
When he reached the ER through Physicians’ entrance, the EMS paramedics were coming out. He stopped them and enquired if they brought Frank in. One of the men nodded his head in affirmative.
“How was he when you arrived at the scene?” He asked the man.
The man in question was reluctant to answer such a personal question about a patient.
“Sorry; I can’t answer that.” He replied with caution.
“It’s alright to answer; I am his Physician and son also. You may discuss minor details with me. I am Dr. Pascale Menendez.” He held up the ID card hanging around his neck for them to examine.
“Oh; I am sorry Doc; I did not see the badge. He was alert, blood pressure improved after we started IV but his pulse rate was high, he complained chest pain (angina) and his heart rhythms appeared abnormal. We felt he needed more cardiac evaluation to rule out cardio vascular problems and ER nurse advised us to bring him in.
Pascue thank them and let them go without further inquiries. He knew where Frank would be with that sort of preliminary diagnosis often caused by the common cardiovascular blockages. He reached the CCU and headed towards the nurses’ island. Seeing him approaching, a nurse on duty came forward with a question mark on her face. She recognized his ID and said,
“What brings you here Doctor; we don’t have anyone here who needs Psychiatric consult--this is CCU.”
Pascue ignored her remark and asked her,
“Do you know if Frank Menendez is brought here; he came in the Emergency Department with a possible Myocardium issues and may be here.”
She went to her station and checked the status of an ED admission. After a brief search, she located him.
“He is not here Doctor Menendez; he is with the Cardiac Lab folks waiting for an admission. Most likely they will keep him in the Nurses clinic for the observation to night.”
He thanked her and went to the physicians’ lounge. From there he called home. Silvia answered the phone.
“Dad; is everything okay? Uncle Francis is here. He told mommy about Grandpapa getting sick; he is in the hospital. Do you know?”
“Yes darling I know. I’m calling you from the hospital. There is nothing to worry about him; he was just tired and had to be put in the bed here so he will not run around. He needs to slow down. Now let me speak to your mommy.”
“But dad; Uncle Francis said he had heart attack and …”
“No dear, Uncle is not a doctor he just thought that he had one. I spoke to his doctors; he is fine. Get mommy; will you!”
“I am here; hang up Silvia.” Rosie waited for the ‘click’ sound of other line going dead and began conversation with the usual questions.
“What happened unexpectedly? Have you seen him?”
“Let me answer the second question first: No I did not see him yet and I do not have any clinical information beyond the assessment of a Paramedic who attended him in his room at the restaurant.”
“Well then, I assume he is not in a critical condition. What do you think is the likely prognosis? Francis has frightened everyone here. He is praying in his room nonstop and spoke about the confession etc., you know the usual end- of -life things priests do. We need some solid information to assure kids that Oldman is not in mortal danger; you know they will, or already have linked this to his unexpected departure from here, and Aggie’s remark to Silvia --my acting on her instructions to kick him out stuff. Do you see the seriousness of this as I see it?”
“Yes I do; but you and I, we both are clinicians. We cannot make an assessment of one’s health status without examination and tests. Pronouncing a prognosis based on a third party’s verbal report is unprofessional at best and bad for the clinician’s reputation because the final outcome may be completely opposite to the initial statement. What faith anyone will have on us then? Especially with children, telling a white lie for immediate comforts is often more harmful than gently explaining what has happened. If you wish me to talk to them then all of you have to wait until I speak with the attending physician and meanwhile you explain to them that he got very sick and is in the hospital. Here he is getting good care and I am making sure of that. As far as Francis ‘behavior goes, tell the children that he is praying for the world peace and happiness of all children. Don’t let him speak to children directly. I will get back with you as soon as I get the full picture of his risk. For now it appears like he had an episode of Angina Pectoris which is not yet confirmed. Take care and do not stress yourself my love; we shall overcome this; I promise.”
“I know we will my precious love; I am going to be as strong at home as I am at work; you trust me on this.”
“That’s my girl --A pillar of strength for my life.”
He ended the call and stood there staring at something beyond the wall he was facing. An ER doctor he knew through his colleague came in the room and Dr. Pascue snapped out of his reflections. He addressed him.
“Doctor!”
The man stopped in his tracks and looked at Pascue and was surprised.
“What are you doing here this late Dr. Menendez?” He asked.
Pascue quickly read his name from the ID card and responded in a soft voice.
“My dad came in this evening through ED Doctor Pinto; for what looks like a cardiac related emergency. I just arrived to this floor to locate him but learned that he is still with the Cardiac Lab.”
“Frank Menendez! Is he your dad? I attended him when he came in. I had no idea…”; Pascue interrupted him at once.
“Yes; he arrived from Goa, India; my birth place, and not yet introduced to many people. By the way, can you share with me his condition? I was heading to the nurses’ clinic. I believe he is in the observation status.”
“When he came here he was fatigued, dehydrated and also had electrolyte imbalance which resulted in hypotension. This caused irregularity in heart rate. In last 15 years he had no medical checkup at all. To stabilize him we gave intravenous glucose and electrolytes. We will stabilize him overnight. In the morning I will check him before I leave. If his conditions are improved, we will give him a complete examination to rule out other possible conditions. At present he seems alright for his age and will improve to normal condition with plenty of rest. You are taking him home so he will be in good hands. I wouldn't worry.”
Dr. Pinto gave him a quick rundown on the status, recommended clinical treatment for the follow up and left for grabbing a cup of coffee.
Pascue began debating his choices:
“Should I stay with him or head home? There seems to be no point going down to the Nurses’ Clinic; Frank may be too tires and sleeping. There is a possibility he won’t be aware of my presence; but then, it would look callous in everyone’s view that I did not bother to see him even though I was right here in the hospital.”
With this sort of semi-guilty feelings, he decided at least to stop and visit Frank. It would be prudent thing to do to let him know that I was there with him when he comes around and Silvia’s doubt about her parents not wanting him will be removed too. He waited for Dr. Pinto to finish his brake and together they went to see Frank. As expected, he was fast asleep. Dr. Pinto directed him to Frank’s bed and left for the ER. No one else was present in that narrow hall. Machines were monitoring the patient from the nurses’ station remotely. Pascue stood at the foot of the bed and watched that man with a leathery but wrinkle free face breathing in and out in a rhythmic movement of a blacksmith’s bellows. Every now and then, he would open his eyes and shut them in that REM sleep mode. He was content and peaceful with nothing to worry about. No social pressures to live carefully in certain approved ways of the society or with any expectations of respect, prestige or kindness.
“He is a truly free man and as far as I remember; he always was master of his destiny. What guy of courage! Like the Great Buddha, he left his wealth, material comforts, family and society behind to seek freedom of the sea. I wonder how many persons have such courage. Those who have nothing to begin with, they have nothing to give up and their act of walking away does not carry merit at all. I am not sure if I could have done that; but then, I don’t have his genes.” Pascue was floating in the clouds of unfulfilled desires and unattainable goals. He continued his metal foray into the subconscious thinking.
“I am squarely and irrevocably fixed in the world of mediocre and very ordinary beings living on this planet. I cannot get up and walk away from my beloved family, and my work under any circumstances. I have to find my solace in this world of bourgeois humanity.”
Then he turned his chain of thoughts from viewing life using the metaphysical lenses to how the practicality of going through it with minimum stresses and maximum benefits.
“What am I going to do with this free man and my mentally impaired step brother?” A question he had asked his alter ego many a times after they came in his life but never seriously sought an answer for it. “Now all that avoidance of decision making I must stop; my Rosie’s mental stability depends on it and then, there is that sensitive and idealist Silvia standing at the threshold of adulthood. Spending free time on the volunteering for homeless is her priority. How can she overcome the doubts of her mother’s true intentions if this freedom loving man decides not to accept the bondage of civilized society he had rejected in his youth and not return home? That girl is likely to view with suspicion all of her mother’s acts. that possibility exists and may turn into a full blown conflict. Pascue was entrapped in the web of thoughts the subconscious mind often weaves. He failed to realize that night had passed quickly and sound of early morning crew arriving snapped him out. He had spent entire night there in the hospital’s Clinic. He walked out of the door and reached home in an hour.
| Author Notes | Reading the chapter by itself will not give full understanding of the story. Reading the previous two chapters will be useful. This is part of my novel: "Chasing of The Wind." |
By Niyuta
When Dr. Pascue woke up it was around two in the afternoon. He did not feel like getting out of bed. His long visit to Frank in the hospital had come after an exhausting Friday afternoon routine at the clinic and to add to that he had to deal with the emotional issues which came up because of his mother in law's interference in their domestic affairs. Lying in the bed, he began taking stock of his situation.
"This is it; I got to act without delay" he said to himself. Then he realized that nothing was stirring in the house. The eerie silence of his bedroom and the absence of children's usual racket alerted his sleepy mind. He glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table and realized that more than half of the day had gone and he was not out and about.
"What happened to everyone? Why Rosie did not wake me up? She knows we have a lot to accomplish today." He called her out but no one answered. A thought crossed his mind and that caused his faculties to come alive. "Francis! Has he done something to them?"
In a moment he grabbed his house gown and left the bedroom calling everyone beginning with his wife and ending with Mark. Quickly he reached down stairs and noticed a note resting on the dining table. He grabbed it and read quickly.
"Darling, we are heading out to the hospital to get grandpa home; hospital called for you. They were discharging him at noon and wanted us to pick him up before two o'clock. You were fast asleep and I thought you could use some rest. We should be back by three. Love you.-Rosie."
He felt relieved. "It's a very good thing she took kids with her," he thought as he headed for the coffee pot. With a cup in his hand he walked in the rear of his little villa where a small flower garden was planted by Maria. It looked neglected after her departure. Pascue put his coffee cup down on the table, picked up a hose and began watering the plants. In few minutes he returned the hose to its hanger and went back to the table. He dropped himself in the wicker chair, grabbed the cup and took few sips. The brew was warm but he did not care. His mind had already commenced the process of opening the vault where yesterday's problems were filed. Methodically he began to go through the folders containing all those issues.
After resurrecting the past events and the personalities involved, he reached to that point where he realized that that a quick fix solution was not possible. He stopped the assessment in a frustrated mood.
"I didn't get one damn minute to discuss anything with Rosie." He lamented.
"In an half hour they all will be here and a different ball game will begin. I wish Francis was somewhere else. He is likely to create a new hurdle with his piety, the fussing about the healing of body and saving of the soul stuff. I wish I had time to deal with this in a professional manner. What can be done now that the planned process of wrapping up and closing the book of Brothers Menendez today, will have to be shelved or even archived?"
Unconsciously Pascue went in to replenish the coffee but the sound of garage door opening stopped the chain of thoughts emerging in his mind and he walked towards the garage to welcome Frank and stood in the foyer that connected garage to kitchen.
Hearing the excitement his children's voices warmed his heart. Silvia and Mark were arguing where their grandpapa was going to sleep. When they came in the kitchen, they saw dad waiting for them and both spoke simultaneously:
"Dad; I want grandpapa to stay in my room; please, dad. I can take care of him better than Mark can when I return from the school" Silvia put her request first.
"No dad; grandpapa likes to stay with me; I can take care of him and he says he doesn't need much care; I can handle and I come home before Silvia." Mark put his claim with some logic added to it."
"Wait guys; you know mom is in charge of the home business; she has the power; not me." Papa avoided the issue and Rosie responded as she entered the door.
"Cut it out you two! Grandpapa has to take plenty of rest for at least two weeks. You heard what doctors said. A caretaker is coming this afternoon and she will give the needed help. You guys are going to create your usual racket and not let him rest. Now go up to your room wash and come down for the lunch."
Frank wanted to say something to Rosie but he was still feeling bit sleepy and instead spoke to kids in a subdued voice:
"I am going to get on my feet very soon and we will start where we left in a day or two."
Kids hugged him and left the kitchen and Pascue led the Oldman to the living room and put him on the sofa and spoke to him with voice full of tenderness and affection:
"They get troublesome when exited. Don't let them bother you. Rest here and I will see what arrangement is made for your own room."
Pascue was pleased with the ending of that crisis. It had brought the family together at least for now; if not for ever. Rosie was busy in the kitchen and he approached her with lots of admiration and love in his heart. She was facing the stove with back towards him. He put his arms around her and planted a kiss on her neck. Words rushed out of him in a torrent, expressing his tender feelings. She had accomplished so much with just one act of love and compassion; something wouldn't have come to his mind to do.
"I love you so much; just don't have words to express. This was a clever stratagem to go and bring dad home. I think the idea of taking children to the hospital has erased any doubts in Silvia's mind about we not wanting grandpa in the house."
She put the pan down on the stove, turned around, hugged him tight and whispered:
"Francis suggested that we all go and bring him home. I think we are making a blunder in by judging him as unstable, confused and whimsical person. This morning I got the first opportunity to see the other side of his personality; one he for reasons known only to him, he kept hidden from us."
Pascue was stunned by the revelation. His expertise in analyzing humans and diagnosing the mental abnormalities failed him when it came to his own step brother, one who grew up in front of him as a real brother. He turned around and sat down on the chair. All of sudden he realized that Francis was missing and he did not even noticed that when they returned as if he was no longer a part of his family.
"What happened to him? He did not return with you."
"I have no idea where he went. After we got in the car, he shut the door after me and just walked away without saying a word." She explained his absence.
"Well. Nothing we can do about that; let us not worry about him. What arrangement for Frank's stay with us you have in mind?" Pascue asked the boss.
"I am lodging him in Maria's room and Francis, if he returns will remain in his present quarters upstairs." She responded.
"What about a new housekeeper? Where will she stay? I don't want you to handle the domestic work along with the hospital business and besides that we need someone to deal with kids when they come home."
"I have given some thoughts to this. I am not going to have a living in housekeeper. I spoke to one of my coworker and she has suggested few young women who could be trusted with the home and kids. I spoke to three of them and one is coming this evening to see the house and then you can interview her if you like. I also discuss the matter with Silvia. She is going on fourteen now and has a good head on her shoulder. She assured me she will control Mark and keep eye on the new maid also. Let us try them out if this one--Carolina is her name, works out or not."
"Well! I don't need to get into this; I always have trusted you in everything that needs to be done for the home and children. However, now things seems to be settling down, let us concentrate on the thinking about settling the business of Menendez family's estate and ownership. Why not you and I go out tonight after the woman comes and stays with Frank and Kids?"
She agreed and he went back to living room to see if Frank was resting properly and could be moved to the guest room which Francis had been occupying.
To his surprise, he was comfortably sitting on the Divan with eyes closed as if he was meditating on something. Pascue put his hand on his shoulder and gently said,
"Dad! Don't you want to lie down? I can take you to Francis' room now if you wish to rest till suppertime."
"No: I would be fine here. I would like to be around people. It will be so much quiet in the room upstairs and I am not used to that. People came in and out all day at my place in town you know." Suddenly frank remembered his restaurant and asked Pascue:
"Has anyone called Tirnath and Jokim, my other two children at the restaurant? They may be thinking I am dead.
"No! Francis must have; I believe he has been living with them at your place. Is it not?" Pascue spoke with uncertainty while searching for a clue if Rosie had said anything about his activities in town. As a matter of fact she had not even remembered his existence amidst them. With all those unforeseen events and dealing with her mother, the maid and daily life of running home as well as the hospital, her daily life had stretched to point of breaking to keep track of that loose cannon ball brother in law of hers. Pascue returned to kitchen and Rosie said:
"It will be a prudent thing to do Pascue; check just in case Francis did not think of that." She responded to her husband's unspoken inquiry. Apparently she overheard their conversation and put the burden on her husband.
"Pronto; I will do that as soon as we get Dad situated." He assured her.
The planned arrangement in her mind was to give Maria's room to Frank. Located on the first floor and next to the kitchen, it looked perfectly suitable for a man of his age who had come home from the hospital.
"He should avoid stairs" was the primary reason but there was another hidden objective she had in mind. She wanted to keep the lovable grand pappy away from her children's bedroom so they won't indulge too much with him at bedtime as they had done when he arrived.
"They must get a good eight hours of sleep to function well in the school. They always could spend time with him after their homework is done. He would be in the living room or in the garden near his pad." She had thought of everything that could affect them as any good mom would. So it was settled at least for that moment and Frank simply accepted the arrangement as the proverbial, 'fait accompli' and moved into his new home. Incidentally it suited Frank's disposition rather well. He preferred the smells and sounds of streets over the quiet environs of hermitage. He showed no sign of disagreement and with that and the matter was settled amicably.
Remaining of that day passed without anything important happening in the Menendez's family. Frank was still under the lingering effects of sedatives and knowing the condition of his health, children did not disturb him at all. Dr. Pascue was called in for some consultation and Rosie began to arrange her daily routine without a live-in housekeeper.
Pascue had called the restaurant manager to inform him that Frank was living with his family. The manager informed him that both sons were at their universities and he would pass the information to them. The day appeared to be ending well' she thought as she got busy with her preparations of meals etcetera for kids and then she remembered Pascue's plans of going out to country club that evening. All of a sudden it did not sound like a good idea to leave a convalescent old man with kids and a new house maid. Besides that, tasks of dealing with patients on Monday morning always are hectic to clinicians managing them.
"We will have to find another day for that" she decided. Children came down to get their lunch and she sat down to grab few bites.
| Author Notes | This is a 30th chapter of a novel, "Chasing of the Wind", therefore it may become difficult to grasp the story. Please read earlier chapters to follow the story before making judgement about its clarity . Thanks. |
By Niyuta
That event filled day began to wind down as everyone except Rosie and grandpa Frank left for their business and the usual quiet ambiance of their home returned. After tiding up the kitchen Rosie felt tiredness overpowering the metal and physical vigor she always had. She looked at the clock on the microwave and realized it was just 2 o'clock in the afternoon. Carolina--the candidate for part time house maid job was not due for another two hours. She went to check on Frank and found him comfortably sleeping. Children had gone to neighbors and Pascue was not expected to return for at least an hour. Exhausted with the family drama created by her in laws, she headed for her bedroom to take a nap.
One of the perils of being an empath and a professional care giver is that the subconscious mind wreaks havoc when the conscious mind reacts to the adverse body conditions and plans a remedy. Rosie closed her eyes and was about to go into that relaxing REM sleep cycle and it all began all over again. A stray thought popped up from nowhere and began demanding attention to a pressing issue which had been floating around in her mind and was held in the deepest area of her psyche.
"Pascue has been under the stresses without help and handling them all by himself at the moment. You have lost the telepathic communication link with him woman!"
Her subconscious had released those issues she had tethered to the floor of her mind's lake named 'Tranquility'. They began surfacing like a dead body that floats when the gas builds up within to make it buoyant and it carries weight attached to it to the surface. With that intervention the adrenal level went up and she began mulling over the data stored in her mind.
"How did I let this happen to me? My precious love and husband is taking it on the chin and I am acting like it is not my problem." The first of the many self blaming thoughts erupted in her tired mind.
"I must make efforts to bring closure to this sordid business at once or I am going to regret it for all my life. This saga that began in Goa long time ago is of Indian origin and I have to find a Brazilian solution to end it before everything I value perishes along with the actors who are in it." She began exploring the options.
"Should I demand expulsion of the in laws who brought this to my life as mother wants me to do?" The first thought rose out of Agnes' constant chiding of her handling of the affairs but she brushed that aside as quickly as it came to her.
"Oh mother; I can't and won't do that you know. Stop badgering me with such unkind suggestions; think of Pascue's reaction and my image in the children's mind. Besides, their grandpa is a sweet and delightful man who asks for practically nothing from us." She began dialogue with her mother. Then she came to her senses and said:
"Oh my God! I am becoming irrational; talking to my mother as if Agnes is sitting in front of me. Get your faculty in control Rosie." She admonished self, sat up in her bed and began organizing her thoughts and took control of her conscious mind. Frank must stay with us; we need him more than he needs us is the reality. Part time housekeeping by a stranger is not same as having Maria--a trusted nanny living with the family. Someone must be home to supervise children entering in the age when they are vulnerable to misguiding influences. What can be better than a grandparent doing that? As far as their estate and ownership business goes; honest disclosure of fact would be the right course and Pascue would have nothing else but the fair play for all. It is the Frank Menendez's family wealth and it is up to him to dispose it off as he sees fit. We don't need anything beyond what we have already earned and then, I have my parental estate to inherit and Pascue and I are making substantial amounts to get what we need to have a comfortable life." She reasoned it with her conscious and subconscious self, but changed the direction of her thinking to more practical matter and addressed the next batch of dialogue to self:
"However, I am going to insist that this business must be brought to a quick and effective closure whether all parties involved come to an agreement or not. If they do; it will be good for all and we will celebrate but if they don't, then they have to get out of my house and find settlement in a lawyer's office or Frank's dwelling in downtown. I will make my home unavailable for any squabbles, arguments and planning that goes on before the legal battles. I know my Pascue will understand my feelings and support the stand I am taking."
With that she closed the discussion with herself, got out of bed and headed for the bathroom to freshen up. Carolina would be ringing the bell shortly she reminded herself. As she was descending the steps to come down, it occurred to her that Frank was in the house. Out of sight as he was, checking on him had slipped her mind. Quickly she reached his room and called him out:
"Frank dear; are you awake? It's time for the afternoon medicine. Can I come in?"
"Come in my lovely daughter in law." Frank responded.
She found him in the upright position resting against the pillows and his bed was covered with documents. It looked like he got out of bed and had pulled them out from his sailor's trunk.
"Oh my God! Looks like you did not rest at all. Why did you not wait until Pascue came home to get you the trunk? You had a serious episode Papa." She addressed him with affection and hugged him gently.
He planted a kiss on her cheek and said, "If you pamper me like this, it's going to be hard on me to return to my home."
"Why would you wish go Papa? Don't you want to live with the family? Pascue and children will be so disappointed and I will feel guilty for not making your stay with us a happy one. Did I fail in taking care of you properly or Francis said anything?" She was genuinely alarmed by his remark of returning to his pad in the rundown section of Sau Paulo downtown.
He gently squeezed her hand and with deep appreciation and affection he spoke softly:
" Minha; you have given me so much love and respect in a short stay, that my family did not give me in my entire life. I know how much you, Pascue, and children want me to stay but I just can't live here. I don't belong to the society you live in. I am a humble unsophisticated sailor man who spent his life with the common folks living an ordinary life. My wife was ashamed of me, my father and his friends did not think much of me and I am used to that. I would be a huge embarrassment to you and Pascue. Besides that, I heard Maria speaking to your mother about my lowly upbringing. It is best we love each other from a distance and be happy to spend time together some time but not all the time. Children grow up and their world grows bigger and bigger with them. They will get tired of my stories and will move on to their own interests. You and Pascue are busy with raising them and working. It is but natural that I would be alone at home and lonely. I have my life among the people of my class and we share that world just the way you share yours here in the upper class neighborhood. It is easy to visit in privacy and depart unnoticed than live among the folks you do not know how to. Just don't make it hard on me to leave and don't be hard on yourself either. Francis is searching something he doesn't seem to know what and he too doesn't belong to your or my world. He too will not fit in here as a part of your or my society. He is happy with the native young men from the tribes. He meets them in the downtown cafes and is edgy when he is in the civilized society. Each of us have a place in this world that the destiny has chosen for us where we are happy, even though life appears to be harsh and less civilized to others who watch it from a distance. I have no demands on anyone; never had one in all my life and I don't want to make fresh ones now when my voyage is just about ending soon."
He fell silent staring at his old Indian passport lying on the bed in front of him.
Rosie had not expected this revelation coming out of Oldman's heart and was stunned. The silence in the room lasted for few seconds but she felt like hours had elapsed. Her professionally trained mind always came up with a scheme to defuse a tricky situation, came empty this time. It seems a birth in an aristocratic society often becomes an embarrassment when such a person comes face to face with the bourgeois life.
In Rosie's situation, even though she lived a professional clinicians' life that required her to deal with individuals from all walks of life, and she fell in love with a commoner, she remained acutely aware of her family titles, birth and upbringing under Agnes's watchful regime. Any ordinary person would have taken Frank's statement about returning to his world as a practical desire to be in the place of choice and moved on. But, Rosie took it upon herself a load of guilt as if Frank made the decision because of lack of warmth and acceptance in her household. It was quite an irrational feeling she had carried in her subconscious ever since Alice questioned her if she had caused their grandpa to leave them. Rosie was not convinced that her efforts to erase that feeling from her daughter's mind had succeeded. Fortunately, the sound of garage door opening gave her the way out of that mental Tundra and she said to Frank:
"Oh; that's Pascue; let us have the afternoon tea with him if you can make it to kitchen Papa and the new housemaid will be arriving soon. May be you can talk to her also; she will be looking after the kids when they return." In tacit way she let the Oldman know that she accepted his decision of leaving.
Frank accepted her arrangement with an affirmative nod. Pascue had reached the foyer connecting the garage to kitchen and announced his arrival by calling her out.
" I am with Frank and coming out shortly; giving him his afternoon dose." She replied. Pascue simply walked into the room and greeted Frank.
"How are you feeling dad? Are you ready to move into the living room? I will give you support if you need one."
"You go get ready for the tea and that woman will be here shortly for the job interview; I will bring him out." Rosie replied her husband's questions to Frank. Pascue just turned around and left.
Rosie administered the medicine and together they walked to the kitchen with Frank leaning on her. That was a very special moment for him when he, for the first time was enjoying intimate episode with his daughter in law knowing that he was going to walk away from all that family love he had missed in entire life. It is a mystery indeed! What makes people to give up paradise they have never had hopes to see when they have at last reached to its gate? What is it that frightens them and makes them to run back to the life they had lived in the relatively miserable state? Prince Gautama, upon receiving the enlightenment and reaching the Buddhahood, which qualified him to enter the spiritual world said to have stopped in his track at the gate and stood there for seven days before turning away from it for the benefit of humanity. He chose a path in the mortal world so he could show the sentient beings how to live there in with tranquility and happiness. That is the story of an enlightened being; what could be Frank's reasons? A Psychologist may have answers to these questions and perhaps, they did rise in Rosie's mind and fortunately her husband was one expert on the subject available to her at home.
The remaining hours of that day passed without any extraordinary or unplanned events in the lives of Mendez family. Carolina the candidate for the par-time housekeeper job came on time and got the job after all concerned adults and children checked her out. Frank spent some time with his grandchildren and eventually retired for the day. The weekend had wound down and the shadows of upcoming week had fallen on the actively engaged folks of the household. When Pascue and Rosie got in the bed, the tail end of the Frank's situation got revived. Rosie needed the closure desperately; she couldn't live with the emotional baggage that was getting heavier every day and then, she had her professional obligations as the Director of Nursing (DoN) towards the patients. She opened the topic with a statement that surprised Pascue.
"We have known each other intimately for more than fifteen years my love--I mean, as lovers and then husband and wife. Did you ever felt that my personality lacked empathy?"
Pascue had subconsciously planned a comfortable way of ending that tumultuous week by doing something romantic and relaxing that he thought would make up for the stresses they had endured. He thought of announcing to her that he was planning to take her to New York for a week if she would trust kids with Carolina and Frank in about ten days when he was attending a seminar there. Before he could come to that moment, she had preempted him with her question and made him realize that the troubles boiling in the pot appeared to have come to cooling stage, was still full of harmful heat. He sat up and looked at her and saw in her eyes that desperate look--one often seen in the eyes of our pets when they are hurting and can't convey in any other way but looking at us in a doleful way.
"Oh my precious darling, whatsoever is making you doubt about your love for others is an aberration perhaps caused by the events over which you had no control. I fell in love with you not on first sight but only after getting the opportunities to know your noble soul. I adore you for who you are; a perfect soulmate. Perhaps, I failed to adequately express my feelings to you about this aspect of our intimacy."
He then reached out her and held her head to his heart and asked:
"What cause this line of thinking to develop in your mind? Can you share with me all that has happened in one afternoon?"
Rosie controlled her silent weeping and buried her head in his chest. He held her gently and allowed her to compose so she could organize her thoughts. In few minutes she came around and narrated the encounter with Frank and his discourse. To that she added Alice's impression of her being the cause of grandpa's previous abandonment of their home.
"I am worried that now he will be going for good and children may harbor the image of me; one close to that of their grandma Agnes. I don't want to be remembered like her when I am gone Pascue; I can't make him want to stay with us. We are strangers to him."
Pascue did not reply right away. She had a point there that needed more than a pep talk; she needed to seek professional help and as a rule he should not be giving it. As a highly respected professional he had detected in her the unfulfilled desire to be one with the universe; the very rebellious force that had made her to disobey her mother and become a nurse rather than a high society debutant was playing on her psyche. She wanted Frank and Francis to love her as a part and parcel of their Goan heritage and not treat her as a Brazilian outsider who is kind to them. These were her subconscious needs that had no basis in the reality of practical world. Both Frank and Francis treated her with respect and admiration and were incapable of expressing that unique sort of love we all seek from our neighbors, friends and even the strangers; all unconsciously and rarely get it. Not because it does not exists, but such feelings are perceived in the daily intercourses and not sensed through subliminal means.
He began addressing her concerns and the tone of his voice changed to a professionally cultivated rhythm:
" Your concerns are legitimate Rosie and they must not be taken lightly. We do have a problem that needs a carefully crafted solution. It is not a switch on or off situation. I assure you; we will find the right solution. Meanwhile you need to seek advice from a professional therapist who will help you to reach the basis of your thinking. I as you know cannot do that but I will be involved with you in finding a way to make Frank's decision palatable to all of us. I suspect there is something hidden in his decision that he is not ready to share with us. We will have to accept that as the present reality. Let us take time off for few days. I am going for a three days conference in New York in few days, you join me when it is over and we could spend the weekend to recuperate from the damage done to our body and mind by the stresses we have been experiencing lately. I will ask Dad to stay until we return and Carolina will do the rest. She seems to get along with all of them rather well. Now take 2 valiums if you feel necessary and let us wake up tomorrow with a fresh approach to all these issues popping up unexpectedly. We will put everything to order in a short time. I love you and children have nothing but admiration, love and devotion to both of us. That is a blessing. "
They fell asleep holding each other in the embrace that assured them a bright morning.
| Author Notes | The chapter provides a glimpse of turmoil Mendez family is facing. To get full understanding of the saga, reader has to read previous chapters of this novel. By itself it may not make sense. |
By Niyuta
Rosie woke up before the 6 A.M. and shut the alarm. She glanced at Pascue's visage and noticed the changes.
"Stresses have taken off the shine from his face." A thought crossed her mind.
"He looks peaceful though; I wonder how he handles so many problems at one time." She remarked. Putting aside the temptation to kiss him for the fear of waking him; she moved away from the bed, grabbed her house gown and went in the bathroom. When she reemerged after the morning routine, planning of the day had already pushed yesterday's worries far deep in her mind. Carolina the new part time maid and readjustment of daily schedules and events was the only agenda she had developed at that moment. Frank and his medical needs were not yet incorporated in that process of planning.
As she came out of their bedroom, she heard the typical sounds of an active kitchen coming from downstairs. Carolina was not due until 7 a.m. and yet the sounds were related to pots and pan clanking. On the way down, she had heard both Silvia and Mark moving in their rooms getting ready for the school. "Who could be in the kitchen?" She wondered and then it flashed in her mind. "Oh my God! He is out and about."
Hurriedly she came in the kitchen and was shocked to see grandpa standing near the stove, incarnated as a short order cook. Frank heard her footsteps and turned around to face her.
"Filha de bom dia."
("Good morning daughter.")
She rushed towards him; hugged and kissed him on his cheek and said:
"Papa; you addressed me, 'daughter' and let me tell you, I shall be your daughter count on me. I love you very much."
Then she remembered Frank was not supposed to take on any strenuous activities and here he was in her kitchen getting ready to start breakfast for his grand kids. She held his both hands and gently pulled him to the nearest chair and said:
"I want you to sit here and let me bring the breakfast for you and children in a jiffy."
"Oh no Rosie; I can do the cooking; I am tired of staying in the bed; I feel fine and strong. I can handle it." He protested and urged at the same time.
"I believe you papa but let me have the opportunity to serve you now that you will be returning to your home. I don't know when you will visit me to stay over again." She insisted and he shook his head in acceptance and sat down.
He was not accustom to such tender loving relationship. No one had given him so much attention; not even the Native Brazilian woman to whom he had given shelter and support, had treated him with so much fuss and loving care. That woman held him in an awe of a savior deity and served his needs as a devotee but not as a relative. This experience at Rosie's home was so new to Frank that for the first time his emotions took charge of his practical mind and tears rolled down his cheek. Quietly, he wiped them with his sleeves. Rosie missed that scene as she had turned towards the refrigerator to take milk out for the breakfast.
By the time both grand children came down, Carolina had arrived and the tender ambiance of the kitchen had turned into its regular daily rush hour scenario. Silvia the older of the two, came first and was surprised to see grandpa standing at the dinette. She circled her arms around him and gave him a really wet kiss on his cheek.
"Oh grand pa; you look great; all ready to walk with us to bus stop I hope." She rattled the words but stopped abruptly as she noticed the tears welled up in his eyes.
"Oh; my god; what's wrong? You are sad grandpa; what happened?" Fear of grandpa's health not as good as she thought, gave rise to an ominous thought in her mind.
"No my darling; I am not crying; I am very happy to come out and have breakfast with you and Mark but I am afraid, I won't be able to walk with you to the Bus Stop; the doctors won't allow me though I so much want to. May be next time I come to live with you; I will be strong enough for that." He spoke with a smile stretched on his wrinkled face.
That sentence opened the subject of his leaving the household in the open. Silvia's mind was about to go back to her previous suspicion; one based on the conclusion that her mother, under the influence of her wicked mother, had succeeded in sending the old man home. However, her father and Mark entered the room at the same time.
Mark ran to his Sindbad the Amir Grandpa with his usual exhilarated outlook towards life.
"Grandpa, grandpa, you are coming with me to school; oh boy; I am so lucky, today is the day for Show and Tell and I have Grandpa."
"You hush Mark; leave him alone, he is not yet ready for walking to the Bus stop and you want him to come to your class!" Silvia put the damper on her brother's plans.
"May be he will never come to your class or even walk to the Bus stop; he is leaving." She added in a resentful voice while throwing a meaningful glance to her mother to express the thoughts reemerging in her mind.
Bewildered Mark looked up at his father's face to find emotions negating Silvia's diatribes and Pascue, at once recognized the emotional disaster that was waiting to happen. Rosie had missed that conversation as she was busy with Carolina explaining the daily routines of her household.
"Wait a minute Silvia. Before you go into that mode of thinking that no one but you and Mark love Grandpa and want him to stay, get your facts straightened out." He intervened and sort of chided her.
"Grandpa wants to leave because of his own needs. He has to be near the hospital in case he gets sick again and also to complete his business of restaurant handing over to others to take care of it. He will return when he is out of medical necessity and you will be able to go with him where ever you guys and he decide. Now stop thinking negatively about anyone wanting to make him go. Ask him if you like and Silvia; you owe your mother and I an apology for thinking us as cruel and unfair parents."
She felt bad and went over to her mother: "I am truly sorry mom; ever since I heard Grandma telling Maria on the phone that Grandpa must not live with us; I was thinking you too are thinking like them. I am sorry; I should have known you better; please forgive me."
Her sincere apology brought tears in Rosie's eyes and she hugged her 'growing up too quickly' baby in to a teen and said: "It's alright. No damage is done but a lesson has to be learned here for both of us. Now go and hug your dad and get ready for the day. By the way, don't say anything to Mark about Grandpa's leaving; let dad handle it."
Silvia hugged the Oldman with tears rolling down her cheeks. He held her in his arms and spoke gently:
"My precious Nina, why tears in the eyes? I am going to be just a phone call away; call me and I shall come to visit you on weekends and holidays. I have to take care of so many things and can't do that from here; can I? You need to focus on your studies; you want to be a Doctor like your dad is it not? Then let me go. I love all of you very much but I must go home now. I will return to stay with you if I cannot function on my own steam; I promise you that. Now go and get ready for your school."
Consoled by his words and mom's assurances, she moved to her chair to finish her breakfast when Mark came in the kitchen with Pascue. He had missed the episode and was as bubbly as a ten year would be in the morning with expectation that someday in the near future, his grandpa would tak him to the school bus stop. However, one glancing look at his sister's serious face, he sensed things were not as he had anticipated. There was stillness in the room and grandpa had turned his face away from them to wipe the tears from his eyes. Never the less, he went up to him and hugged him and said:
"It's OK grandpa; you can walk with me to bus stop when you are well; may be next week. Today, I will be back from school at 4 and maybe we can spend some time together."
Old man turned around and caressed his face , bent down and kissed him on the forehead and said:
"I love you Nino; but I have to go to see my doctor this afternoon and I will be going to my home for a while to take care of my business there. We will get together very soon and go for a walk on the beach. Now get ready for the school."
Mark shook his head in affirmative and went to his chair wondering what it all meant. Still a child; his mind quickly turned on to things he was going to do that day at school and in half an hour they left the house with Carolina accompanying them.
In the quickly advancing morning Pascue and Rosie had to wrap up the family affairs and return their focus to the professional tasks awaiting them in their respective commercial worlds. There was not enough time to bring on the subjects for discussion on the most important and urgent matters they had been grappling with for quite some time. A closure had to be accomplished immediately if Frank was to unshackle the bond that had naturally developed in that household. He spoke to them in a calm and firm voice:
"Pascue and Rosie; it is hard on all of us to do what I believe we must do to resolve the issues that are occupying our thoughts and preventing us from facing the reality. I am going to leave this afternoon before children arrive. I have made arrangements and Tirnath; one of my adopted son s, is going to come to fetch me. This evening when you come home, check in my room. I will have a letter for you that will reveal and may be explain the mystery of my life and the facts and figures related to decisions I have made. Treat it as if it is my last will and testament. Now, go about your routine and we shall reconvene at my place this weekend and settle the issues arising from my past most of which is unknown to most of you. Francis will be there with us. Is it convenient to you?"
Pascue and Rosie were stunned by Frank's unilateral decision making and assertive tone. There was no time for discussion and then; neither of them had a clue to go by even to speculate. They agreed and moved onto their businesses without much exchange of words except the civilities.
Frank returned to his room and Rosie gave detail instructions to Carolina about his medication routines and sundry duties. Both left together without discussing anything as if they were deliberately avoiding the subject. When he dropped her at the hospital he spoke to her in a subdued voice:
" I think we should open the letter together when we are alone before going to bed."
She agreed and disappeared in the group of employees entering the hospital. He waited until the group turned the corner and was out of sight. "What mystery it could be; mom has told me the secret of our births; I wonder if has any clue of this?"
He reached the office and patients were waiting for him. The matter of Frank and the letter he pushed aside and plunged into the work of treating patients with mental illnesses. Irony is that he and his wife were under such mental state that they could develop one of those anomalies themselves and he wouldn't be treating them. 'A physician must not treat himself or for that matter his loved ones,' is the requirement of standards of ethics followed by the practitioners of profession.
| Author Notes | The chapter is part of a novel and story by itself will give some idea about the family drama unfolding but its importance will be lost if prior chapters are not read. Please read them to gain the 'reference to context' understanding of this drama. The book is available in my portfolio under title,' Chasing of The Wind. Thank you. |
By Niyuta
One of the most admired traits of a dedicated professional is they can push aside their personal problems and plunge into the tasks they have taken on. Both Rosie and Pascue were such individuals. She holding a position of Director of Nursing (DON) and he, the head of the department of Psychiatry had done just that. They had hoped to removes the cause of unbearable stresses from their life and return to their tranquil routine of work, enjoy the fruits of that and look forward to raising two adorable children with love and sense of parenting done right. Frank’s abrupt decision of leaving them had dashed their plans of settling the sordid affair of inheritance of highly valuable ancestral property once for all.
As soon as they entered the premises of their employers, they forgot all about the domestic troubles as if they left them locked up in their car only to pick them up again when returning home at the end of the day. That day passed without any significant event and except for Rosie’s mid-day call to Carolina for checking if she had performed reasonably well for the first day of work and to know all tasks were done as per her instructions, there were no other disruptions. Pascue also avoided contacting her as he frequently did during the week if he had to inform her about delays etc. By the time he picked her up for the return journey, the clock tower of the hospital had chimed six times. When he pulled into the employee parking lot; she was waiting for him.
He glanced at her face as she approached the vehicle. The calm and composed visage she maintained while at work had not changed. He on the other hand had the anxious look as if he had rehashed those issues in his mind while driving. Rosie’s anti-sun glares had masked her eyes and there was no way to tell what was going on in her mind.
“How was your day? Anything new or same routine stuff?” He inquired just to begin the conversation.
“Nothing really stressful if that’s what you are aiming at; just the routine business plus the paper work; that’s all. Carolina seems to be doing well and children like her; especially Silvia seems to be happy to interact with her than with Maria.”
She had switched the topic skillfully to avoid beating around the bush. She did not wish to take up the topic of Frank just as they both had come out of their office. No one spoke about it as Pascue concentrated on the navigation and she began planning the evening meals and other necessary chores. In the back of her mind she had a small nagging thought about the impact of grandpa’s departure on Silvia.
“We all should have accompanied him to his home instead of just getting picked up with no one to say good bye. But then, that was not her or families decision; Frank had arranged all that. I guess he is one of those folks who hate good byes.” She convinced her conscience.
After entering the house; they moved on mechanically to their routine tasks. She engaged Carolina and got full account of how Frank’s departure had happened. She made sure Carolina did give him his afternoon dose and packed his drugs properly. By the time that business was over and set of instructions for supper were reiterated, she went up to check on the children’s progress.
Pascue had gone to freshen up as soon as they came in the house and had returned with his drinks. He was already working with the TV remote in the living room. The anticipations and expectations have a strange effect on human psyche; it brings about subtle changes in our behavior unconsciously. Both were pushing the temptations of opening that letter Frank had said he would leave in his room, below the surface. They had agreed to do that task after dinner.“It would be wise if we go through meals and children’s daily routine of quality time.” He had suggested and she had agreed. Besides that they did not wish to have housemaid around in case there is something that needed to be discussed or even debated upon.
Rosie went up to tuck the children and spend some mother’s quality time as per their long standing order of ending the day demanded. She had initiated that process in her own children’s life which her father had set in his home since she was two year old. Agnes—her mother left that to him because she was too busy with organizing her social calendar for next day. In her family, she was the Matriarch Head and Pascue due to his irregular schedules of a doctor had welcome it. Everything worked efficiently and each person knew what to expect most of the time if not all the time.
In Silvia’s case, it was the time to exchange tit bits of intimate issues ,girl to girl secrets and advices from a trusted friend. She spent lot more time with her growing daughter; soon to be entering into the proverbial, ‘Teen Zone’ when desires and doubts fight for dominance of a growing personality. That night was special one for both. Mother worried about lingering suspicion in daughter’s mind about her role in grandpa’s sudden departure and daughter had her fears about not seeing grandpa again. The session began with Silvia’s questions:
“Why did he decide to go immediately mom? Isn’t he really very sick to take care of himself? There is no one with him when everyone goes to work.”
In her tender and kind heart she had thought about the loving old man’s life and imagined it to be a lonely struggle and death. Frank did not get the opportunity to spend time with her at all before he left and the scene in the kitchen weighed on her subconscious all day.
Perhaps it is the mother’s instinct or a special gift, but Rosie had prepared the answers for that line of questions. She replied:
“Darling, we are as much in dark about his decision as you are. You know we tried to keep him here but he seems to have some important work to do and does not want to share that information with us; at least not immediately. We will know something about it by tomorrow.” She assured her without mentioning the letter.
“But what about his sickness? Dad ought to know more about it; he is a doctor. I can’t imagine him living by himself with no one to give him his medicine or meals.”
“We know the nature and risks related to his sickness but remember; your dad is not his attending physician nor has a permission to read his charts. He is not his legal guardian—something to do with legal requirements and patient privacy laws. As far as serving his meals and medications goes, I have arranged a nurse to visit him and a social worker to be with him all day and he has others to stay with him later in the evening. Everything is arranged and he will be as fine as we can do under the circumstances. I would have liked him to stay with us but then he has made up his mind to be alone. He spent his entire adult life alone at sea and it appears that it overwhelms him to be around people all the time. We really don’t know anything about it but soon will and I will share with you. Now go to bed with peace and prayers for all of us.” She kissed her and left for Mark’s room.
She pushed the door a little and pipped in; he was fast asleep. Gingerly she tippy toed to next to him and stood there watching his face. Innocence of childhood is visible when he or she is fast asleep and dwelling into the realm an adult can never visit. She remembered her favorite passage on ‘Children’ from Kahlil Gibran’s THE PROPHET, which she referred to often whenever she was troubled with her handling of their issues. She in her mind recalled those words, as if she wanted to be reminded of her limits:
“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dream.”
Reflecting on the words of wisdom, she smiled, bent down and kissed him on the cheek and thanked the almighty for giving her the privilege of raising two beautiful jewels.Good half an hour had passed and she realized that Pascue was waiting for her to fetch the letter.
When she came down the steps; she found him waiting for her with the key for Frank’s room. They entered the room and found a small notebook page. He picked up and it read:
“All I want to say is in my Sailor’s Trunk. There is a jewelry box with documents. Read them when you are at peace and together. You are likely to get shocked but bear it and I know you will. Both of you have given me love and respect I never expected to receive from my children because of my being absent in their lives. After you go through the material, we will meet immediately. I have very little time left and I wish to settle everything in time.”
Pascue looked at Rosie with apprehension and said:
“What to make of this? Why do you think he feels he doesn’t have time? I did not get any indications of terminal illness from his doctors at the hospital and have not seen any symptoms either; have you?”
“No; how could I? He was always peaceful and smiling and I did not check him for symptoms knowing that he was relatively well for his age. May be you are jumping the gun! He may be just feeling like he is running out of time or not wanting to go on.” She gave her perspective on the issue.
Pascue carried the trunk to their bedroom and decided that they would open later when they have time and are mentally prepared for the ultimate resolution of that thorny issue of Frank’s inheritance and the final resting place. They were tired and the remaining days of that working week did not look very promising to jump into that emotional whirlpool. They finished the routine and fell asleep instantly.
| Author Notes | The story of Frank, Pascue and Rosie has began few chapter prior to this one. It may not make connection to the novel itself. Please read few chapters before this one to understand the plot and the characters in it. Thanks. |
By Niyuta
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Human mind seems to have a built-in protection system akin to what we recognize in the other species as, 'the survival instincts'. In almost all cases, we tend to push aside all those memories of unpleasant events, persons and the communications without our knowledge. Experts in the fields of human Psychiatry, Social Behavioral Sciences etc., may explain this as a deliberate, temporary amnesia; one that is induced by the subconscious mind and obeyed by its partner--the ever efficient brain. That's exactly how it happened in the Rosie and Dr. Pascal Mendez household. Within the next 24 hours, Frank's departure from their domain had become a forgotten event.
Absences of the other recent intruder, Rosie's youngest brother-in-law Francis; a Priest without a collar; has been taken in a 'gone for good' spirit. In essence; their lives were returning to the days when they lived by themselves. Then the daily life of all members was simple, predictable and routine. The chief of staff-mom, set the rules and administered the day to day affairs while dad, the titular boss, remotely managed the enterprise with rare interference. The children; they just found the most profitable ways they could adjust to their dynamic environments at home and school. Only difference now was that, grouchy and conniving Maria, who often bullied them, was replaced by a young Carolina. She possessed more modern outlook, a congenial attitude and a friendly temperament. In fact nothing or no one present in their home to broach the subjects of uncles and grandfathers to them. In the past maternal grandma--Agnes made routine afternoon calls to Silvia to find out what was going on with Frank and if her mother-Rosie ,had succeeded in getting rid of him and now that he had departed that subject dropped out of their conversation all together. However, the meddling old woman did make few attempts to find out if she could replant old Maria amidst them but Silvia, now a teenager, had learned to hang up on her before she could get to that subject by one or the other excuses she could come up with. Soon the old woman realized that she, because of her nosy habits and controlling nature, had lost her grandchildren's affection and respect. Agnes' efforts to reconcile with her daughter also had failed because of the stressful situation caused by Frank's sickness and the decision of returning to his own dwelling in the downtown. The curiosity about the letter from Frank also followed the path of his memory as mentioned before in the oblivion. "What could possibly be in that letter? Pascue had speculated when he put the trunk away on the shelf of the walk-in closet in their bedroom.
"Perhaps it is Frank's apology for avoiding responsibilities of a father, or how he wishes his remains to be handled." With no clues to go on; Pascue did not even mention the letter to his wife. "As it is Rosie is too exhausted even to deal with that subject now." With that line of thinking he decided to postpone the reading to a later time slot on his calendar and the letter remained locked up in that Mariner's Trunk; out of sight and became a forgotten issue, as the emotional twister associated with the Oldman died with his departure.
Next day, Dr. Pascue left for New York City to present his research paper on the 'Link between the levels of poverty in Latin America and the Mental Health of the Society. A three days seminar following the presentation kept him busy so on Friday, Rosie and children joined him for a four-day bash. The family needed that break and for that weekend they made the best of their time on a short but very satisfying long weekend in NY City. No one reminded them of their relatives or the unfinished business waiting for them in that trunk in the bedroom.
Nothing can explain this sort of arrangement of events destiny throws in our lap. All was tranquil in the lives of Dr. and Mrs. Pascal Menendez until his brother arrived and then, soon after their long lost father got discovered living right in the heart of their city for a longtime. Both events had to happen within a short period. Who arranged these events which shook their love-boat and sent it in the typhoon infested south Pacific and why? Are there any rational answers to these questions? We will never know.
Eastern philosophers pack all human struggles, mishaps and rewards into a neatly package theory they call--Fruits of Your Karma; past and present ones. Don't ask questions just obey the 'Law of Karma'.
The faithful of Biblical kind believe --that's what you get for breaking the God's Command and living without the Lord or displeasing the Allah. The others with no specific faith in anything associated with God or religions take subterfuge in sarcasm; like Voltaire did in 'Candide'. He wrote:
'You are quite right,' said Pangloss. 'When man was placed in the Garden of Eden, he was put there "to dress it and keep it", to work, in fact; which proves that man was not born to an easy life.'
Well; that it may be relevant in the world of Metaphysics; in their physical world, Mendez family, made the best of the free time in New York. Kids went to Connie Island with their friend's family and Rosie had a second, hotly romantic honeymoon which included Broadway Play and a visit to a Brazilian Dance Club.
Exhausted with having great fun and frolicking, they reached home late and went to bed with renewed vigor to take on the real world of work and may be of some easy life they could afford.
That week passed without much of any unusual stresses at work as well as at home. Two weeks had passed quickly since Frank's departure and it appeared like the Rosie's ship had endured the storms and had headed for the channel taking it to the tranquil back waters. Pascue was busy with sharing the glory of his achievements with the local chapters of Brazilian Professional psychiatry. His paper was well received by the world's prestigious institution: The Association of International Psychology and was promoted by the World Health Organization at the UNO. It appeared like finally, everyone was going to settle down in their own domains peacefully but then a phone call from Rosie brought them back to where they had left the business of Frank's letter in the trunk.
"My God! My love; we have a major situation developing at home. Can you come home early today; if not, before six?"
"What seems to be the matter? Is Silvia ..."
"No; no. It's not anything to do with children." She interrupted him and continued:
"It's Francis. He came to the villa unexpectedly and Carolina did not let him in as she had not seen him before nor we mentioned him to her as a member of our household. She kept him waiting at the door and went in to call me. That leaving him waiting outside seems to have offended him. He told her he would return by five in the evening to collect his belongings and Frank's Trunk and left. By the way; did you call Frank's place anytime since he left? I couldn't do it with all that lack of privacy and heavy load of issues at work before we went on the vacation. I feel bad and terribly awful for not doing that." She sounded in distress.
"To tell you the truth; I was in worst situation, preparing for the NY and arranging with colleagues to cover me for the week. I totally forgot him I must say. As far as Francis goes; I will explain the situation and he will understand. Don't worry. May be Frank needed something from his trunk. I will be home by five and you can come whenever you can. Don't panic." He hung up and got busy with work.
Rosie felt bit assured but was not sure about the outcome of that evening's meeting with Francis. Something sinister was going to come out of it she felt in her guts but kept her mind busy wrapping up the paperwork so she could leave on time.
Dr. Pascue pulled his B&W SUV into the garage and saw Rosie's getting out of a taxi that pulled at the side walk. He got out the car and waited for her out on the driveway. She was relieved to see him and said:
"Am I glad to see you; I was afraid you won't come in time and I would have to face him alone. I must admit; we both dropped the ball by not checking on Frank's health."
"Yah; we could have handled the situation with more concern and affinity to his situation but I subconsciously felt that he was healthy and really did not wish to be part of our world. Perhaps you too felt the same way and we went about doing what we feel is appropriate for all of us; after all he had made the choice of moving back to his comfort zone."
Pascue justified his own actions and helped her to get over her sense of failure as they entered the house from kitchen door. Carolina was waiting for them.
"He is packing in the room upstairs". She informed them as soon as they came in the kitchen; as if she had anticipated a question from them about Francis' arrival.
Rosie nodded at her without speaking and they headed for their bedroom. Sound of Francis working in his room made them aware of his time of arrival and she spoke to Pascue in undertone, "looks like he just arrived before us; let us get that letter out and read it."
He nodded and as soon as they entered the bedroom, he went in the walk-in-closet and came out with the Trunk, placed it on the love seat and opened the lid. Except for a Manila envelope placed on the old cigar box, the trunk was empty. Pascue pulled two pages of a lined composition book, mainly used in the schools, unfolded and they both began reading silently. It was not addressed particularly to anyone by name but collectively -- To Whom it May Concern -sort of ambiguity.
"I, Frank Ernest Mendez, born to Sophia Mendez, on 15th day of June, 1941 in the home of my grandfather, Earnest Mendez. I am the only son of Jokim Ernest Mendez then lived in the City of Punajim, Goa-a former colony of Portugal, now part of Republic of India. My birth and baptism records are recorded in the office of the government of Goa and the basilica of St. Francis located in the same city.
My grandfather was a Doctor of Medicine. He practiced in Punjim, became wealthy and in 1930, built the house I was born in. It is known and recognized since then, as Dr. Mendez Mansion and is located at 220 River Road, Punjim, Goa, India. My father, Jokim Mendez became a 'Khot' (Landlord), when in 1945, he acquired the farmland of one Srikanth Seth by foreclosure of a loan which Srikanth failed to pay back.
I was admitted in the St. Zavier Catholic School in the city but did not finish my studies beyond 7th grade. On June 30, 1959, I married Mariam De Costa ; daughter of Dr. De Costa of Panjim, Goa, India.... "
The letter began to sound like a legal recording of events and episodes of Frank's life and Pascue began skipping the details until his eyes caught Rosie's and his name. It read as follows:
"Pascal and Rosie: I know you are wondering why I wrote all these details of my life with dates and places. I have done this according to the instructions of my attorney. As you know, I was declared by the government of India a dead man because of the petition filed by your mother to declare me as such. Because of lack of communication in ten years and unable to locate my whereabouts, the government gave her all my possessions and the ownership of properties in Goa and freedom to remarry.
Well, as you see, I am very much alive and I have to make sure my claim for being alive is validated by others. I have the external documents like my last Indian passport, birth and baptism certificates as well as photos. I needed two individuals to testify bona fide of my claim. Who could be better than my children? Francis has agreed to do so and I ask you to do the same. However, I have to make a very unpleasant and disturbing declaration to you and through you to your other siblings. Please sit down as it may come as a shock to you.
I am not the biological father of any of you who are carrying my family name. Your mother, for the reasons known to her alone, had chosen someone else to have children with. My claim to this fact is based on the circumstantial evidence supported by the dates of my visit and the durations of my stay with your mother at home. I always arrived when your mother was not in what the clinical term calls, 'coming into the estrogen state' and avoided physical contacts with her but learned after my departures in six months that she gave birth. You are aware of the genetic testing to prove these things. However, I do not wish to follow that course unless compelled. Here is what I wish:
'I would like to keep this a secret between us, but it is you and Rosie to decide about sharing it with your siblings. Since I do not have any children of my own from your mother and both young boys born of my second wife are my stepchildren, I would like to leave up to you whether to keep my family name as yours or not. As far as my property in Goa and in Brazil goes, I have decided to dispose it off in the following manner:
"The house in Goa, known as Dr. Mendez Mansion and the parcel of land acquired from Srikanth Khot, through foreclosure by my father will go to one Ms. Malti Salgoankar (nee Seth). Very soon Malti will have my family name as I intend to marry her. It is high time my only biological son legally carries his true family name. Before her and my weddings, we were lovers and that resulted in the birth of a son; my son; a true owner of my grandfather's estate.
The remaining property, located adjacent to the sea shore, will go to you and Rosie. You deserve it more than anyone else out side my family. You may decide what to do with it.
The Brazilian property will go to two young men--my stepchildren. I have made all the necessary legal arrangements for execution of my will with this arrangement. The Indian Embassy in Rio, has accepted my claims and I have the Visa to return to India to complete my transactions.
After meeting you, Rosie and children it became a very trying and difficult decision for me to part from all of you. I am eternally grateful to my daughter Rosie, you my true son -- Pascue, loving Silvia and Mark, all of you who showered the love and comforts upon me without hesitations. I wish it had lasted for remaining years of my life but then, I have to spend some time with a woman I loved and a son I never got to raise. I hope you will understand and forgive me for refusing your kind hospitality.
I am aware of the trauma you and others will be facing due to the circumstances none of us could control; however, we all are well provided for and have a comfortable life to look forward to. You all will remain in my heart as my children don't doubt that. You all are welcome to your mother's home anytime and we could remain a one family but decision is yours to make. I held no grudge or ill will towards your mother and I hope you will forgive her for her acts. I saw no need to do that as I never thought she followed that path for hurting me; she was trapped in a life situation and found a way out of it just the way I did to get out of mine."
Frank had signed the letter in a quivering hand as if it was shaking with some emotional storm passing through him. Silently, Pascue folded the letter and handed over to Rosie. On her visage, there was a shadow of profound sadness that every dedicated care giver senses when a patient they care for a while, passes away. There is a stoic professionalism they have to display at work and yet the loss is felt deeply for the person they could not save. In case of Frank, Rosie sincerely wanted to take care of him like she would have her own late father but the opportunity never materialized. For Dr. Pascue, the confessed infidelity of his mother had softened the blow of Frank's letter. There was a sense of relief on his face. He did not have to face his siblings about these sordid affairs now; he could simply leave the current arrangement going on to perpetuity. A satisfactory conclusion appeared to be in sight at last and life would become as normal as possibly could, only if Francis too gets out of their lives as easily as Frank had.
He locked the trunk, picked up and said to his wife; let's close this chapter once for all now the trunk is locked and delivered to its owner. She nodded her head and followed her husband downstairs.
Francis got up from the living room sofa as he saw them emerging from the bedroom. He looked at his watch and came forward to meet them. His own belongings were neatly packed up and kept ready near the front door to move out with Frank's trunk.
Brothers hugged each other without saying a word and then Francis turned to Rosie and said, "I regret I didn't get time to be with you and children; perhaps there will be another time and we will make up for the lost opportunities." Then he picked up the baggage, opened the door and walked out without looking back or waving good byes.
Three months passed and lives of Rosie, Pascue, Silvia and Mark became normal and the events of past one year and the intruders in their midst began to appear like they never really were there with them. Frank had done what he said he was going to do in that letter and Pascue decided to keep the secret of their birth buried in his and Rosie's heart.
"It would serve no purpose and will create unnecessary upheaval in everyone's lives," they had concluded. We all are well settled in our own parts of the world and estate in a faraway land meant nothing to Dr. Pascal and his family in Brazil. His youngest brother in India was managing it for many years and there was no point changing that. Frank made some sort of mutually benefitting arrangement with him. Frank died after few years of blissful life with the woman he loved and was buried at sea as he wanted.
Francis became the wealthiest among the Brothers Mendez due to the inheritance from his father. He left the RC Church and built his own religious order for all those who were denied acceptance anywhere else. Frank's two adopted sons; one became a Physician and the other an Attorney, they helped Francis in setting up legal right protection services, schools and health clinics for the Amazonian Tribes. All remained connected with each other without disrupting anyone's routine. The story of Mendez family turned out well as it ended to everyone's satisfaction.
One evening,standing on the beach in each other's arms, watching the sun setting in the sea; Rosie sensed the somberness of her husband's mood and asked;
"Is it still bothering you who could be your father?"
"No! I am thinking of Frank buried there in the depths of ocean and wondering what made him to accept my mother's marriage proposal when he knew she was not a virgin; the very attribute of a woman that had such an exalted status among the men of that time in the Indian society. Was it he revenging his father for mistreating him or he simply accepted the instinct of females to mate with the strongest, brightest and the most attractive male to reproduce better progenies?"
"That's such silly and strange thought in the head of a scientist studying the human mind; do you think I married you for that instinct? You men will never understand the workings of a female mind." She retorted and pinched him on his butt punishing him for ignoring her romantic mood.
| Author Notes | This the last chapter of a novel that began with a picture of a RC priest disturbed by his homosexual urges and ends with discovery of the purpose of his life. In between there is a story of two men and a woman with their lives intertwined with the Priest's and how it all ends in everyone's satisfaction. Reader may not get the full impact of this chapter without reading at least three previous chapters. |
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