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 voc�??�?�ª mas amanh�??�?�£ pode ser dif�??�?�­cil, 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.