Day 41, Sept. 20

Day 41, Sept. 20

The festive day arrived. What a day it was! The previous day was filled with an intrigue regarding where I was to go and how I would get there and when. Plans changed hourly. I was about to be sent to a place not on my agenda – Kerala. Until this trip that was the only part of India I knew about. Now, thanks to this baptism, a priest was coming along to Tuticorin with other relatives of the family. The priest, Fr. Dixson, was a cousin to Fr. Vijay.
The first event of the day was Mass in Fr. Vijay’s home parish. Then there was the baptism with three priests (I was asked to keep my vestment on for this event) and two babies (another family coincidentally wanted their baby’s baptism at the same time). It was all a bit chaotic but valid. Our way of expressing the same rite o baptism is much more beautiful than the manner in which this one took place.
After the baptism we went to the house where we recognized the baby’s father’s birthday. Then, we went off to a restaurant for a gala luncheon. A whole lot of people were there so that we ate in groups. As my group (the first) finished the three priests went out together. We all got sandals (my first pair and all of us bought the exact same model for 365 rupees each). When we moseyed back the group that was headed back to Kerala had been waiting (they said an hour but no way was that true). Just like that my bags were stowed in the vehicle, we were stuffed in it, and we were off.
Our driver knew we were late. With almost 2 months of watching kamikaze drivers wend their way around 2 lane roads and traffic in both directions, I was finally locked up in a vehicle with such a driver. At times he was going 120 kph in the opposite lane with a truck heading straight at us with no idea of slowing down and we weren’t being allowed back into our lane. I closed my eyes for a blink and the situation had rectified itself. Thanks for somebody’s guardian angel.
As we approached the Kerala/Tamil Nadu border a distinctively beautiful range of mountains appeared. They were the same I saw when I visited the southern tip of India. They are the Western Ghats. I would like to have spent a day in them. We stopped for a coffee break in full view of their beauty. I had a Pepsi and some home made potato chips. The others ordered from an Indian restaurant after I bought my stuff next door. When I realized I had bought food at the wrong place, I went into the restaurant and was about to get thrown out before the others acknowledged that I belonged to their party.
From there, it was two more hours until we g0ot off the main road and us two priests got off and entered the rectory a couple of hours after dark. Fr. Dixson put me in his room – it had a European commode. I stopped my protest immediately upon hearing the word ‘European.’ The alternative is a hole and two foot steps. I accepted his kind offer graciously. The night was better for it.
But, the night was nowhere near over. The feast had not yet begun. There had been a very good reason for the driver to defy death for all of us. The pastor of one of the two pastors in this town needed to be there for the fun to begin. Now that we were ready, the message got to St. Matthew’s Church that they could commence. Fireworks started blasting and the sound of a marching band began to blare. St. Matthew’s is about a two minute walk to where I was staying (St. May Magdalene). You can see one from the other. After the sound came the sights in the form of people. First came groups of children, each wearing a distinctive color. The same routine continued with the teen-age girls and teen boys, the adult women in several sodalities and next to the end the groups of men. And finally the band led by the drums. When the parade reached where we were stationed right in front of St. Mary Magdalene’s (the half way point of the parade from which they circled back to St. Matthew’s. With the drummers assembled in a circle in front of us on a hot steamy night with only Christmas type lights illuminating the sweaty backs of the shirtless, skirted young men beating their hearts out on the drums o all sorts hearkened my spirit back thousands of years to a primordial time. It had more excitement than a rally on an SEC campus before the biggest game of the year. And this was only the eve of St. Matthew’s feast day.
Before anyone was allowed to catch their breath, Mass began. A notable speaker was invited to preach at it (as was another on the actual feat day). As it turned out this speaker was born in the parish. He spoke for over half an hour. I stayed awake for most of it including the end. Needless to say, the church was packed with over 1500 people nd the crowd outside far exceeded that.
As Mass ended the festivities continued with people enjoying each others’ presence. S the splendid hot that he was, Fr. Dixson showed me home to my bed from which angle I could enjoy I needed to see for the rest of the night.