Bidding a Sad Farewell to an Indian Military Hero--RIP Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias

Tuesday, January 30, 2019
Bombay

Bidding a Sad Farewell to an Indian Military Hero--RIP Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias

     Namaste from Bombay!
     It was a sad day and another first for me: my first time attending a funeral at which the deceased is interred with full military honors. The funeral would occur in the late afternoon after I had spent most of the day re-reading and editing the manuscript of my non-fictional memoir and preparing it for submission to my new publisher.
     But first things first: No, I did not go to the gym today and I am feeling pretty overwhelmed by the number of things I have to do before I leave for the funeral. So, a hasty breakfast of muesli and coffee later, I sat down to begin work on it. My To-Do List lengthened suddenly as I put down all the things I have to do in the next week or so--a week that is already pretty packed with interview appointments. Still, I got about five chapters down before I stopped to have an improvised lunch chez moi of mushroom soup, two slices of toast that I made into crostini--one with blue cheese and fresh figs, the other with (cheddar) cheese and pickle--which is really my friend Anna's mango chutney! Dessert was another fresh fig!
     In-between re-reading my chapters, I corresponded with my publisher in Maryland to find out if he was willing to sell the paperback rights of my book on Anglo-Indians to Ishaan--his swift response informed me that there is still five months left on my contract during which I can do nothing as there is a possibility that Lexington Books might bring out a paperback edition themselves! How thrilling! Although this means that I cannot move in the matter for the next six months, at least it also means that there is a possibility that my publisher in the US will bring out a more affordable, more accessible internationally-priced paperback edition. That was good news indeed!
     I also corresponded with my colleagues at NYU-New York about yet another grant program for which I would like to apply and which needs strong recommendations from them.  Both of them came back to say that they would be more than happy to give me the necessary recommendations.  So I will now need to work on that grant application as well. Few people realize that so much of the lives of academics and the research they turn out depend on funding for which they constantly need to apply. Thanks heavens for this Sabbatical of sorts which allows me to work undisturbed and to get so much field research done for what could potentially become two books: one on Western Theater in Bombay; the other on Western Music in Bombay! And, Ishaan is already interested in publishing both these volumes and is willing to give me a contract in hand for the two of them right now! All this, even before I have finished doing the research! Certainly exciting times lie ahead!
     I took a swift nap of just 20 minutes before jumping into the shower and then dressing for the funeral. I met Dad and together we walked to the church for the viewing.

Farewell Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias:
     The funeral I was attending was the final farewell to Lieut-Gen. Francis Dias, father of my two close friends, Sharon (who lives in Toronto) and Fiona. We grew up together in the building next door on the same lane in Bandra and Sharon was a particularly good friend. She was just a couple of years younger than I was, but I actually taught her while she was doing her Masters in English at the University of Bombay. I can so remember her sitting right there in the front row during the course I had taught on the Modern Short Story when I had included James Joyce's The Dead on my syllabus!
     Francis (who was so modest that he never wanted to be addressed by his title, but merely by his first name!) passed away on Republic Day (January 26) after an illness of a few months. Sharon came down from Toronto for the funeral together with her 20-something son Aditya. Her husband Hubert could not come as her daughter Sanaya is in the midst of college exams. Fiona was present with her husband Lewis but since both her children are studying in the US, neither one of them could be there. Of course, Francis' wife, Selda, the true image of a military wife who carried herself with poise and dignity, was very much present. The entire family was so composed through it all that Sharon did the First Reading, Fiona gave a solo ("Precious Lord") after Communion, Aditya conducted the whole Mass by introducing each speaker and Selda gave the eulogy to her husband who was interred with full military honors. Also giving a eulogy was a Commander Yadav who had known Francis since he was a child as his father had been Francis' colleague even before he himself had joined the army. He told us that Francis had seen action in the Indo-Pak War of 1971 that led to the creation of Bangladesh. He has, therefore, left his footprints on history. Francis was so modest that even though he was sociable and voluble, he rarely talked about his own accomplishments although he was always full of praise for his children and grand-children.
     The mass was said by Cardinal Oswald Gracias of Archbishop's House as Francis was the brother of our late Cardinal Ivan Dias--who had, once upon a time, been tipped off as the possible next Pope during the elections that brought Pope Francis to the Pontificate. This was also my first time hearing a Mass by a Cardinal in Bombay (although I have heard Pope Benedict's Mass in Rome) and I found him to be a very engaging speaker indeed. He preached a very touching and most informative sermon. Other concelebrants were a Bishop (whose name I did not get) plus another priest (unknown to me) and our two parish priests, Fr. Colman and Fr. Savio. My friend Fr. Tony Charangat (Editor of The Examiner) and a good friend of the Cardinal (whom he knows as "Ozzie") was also present as was Fr. Frazer Mascarenhas, former Principal of St. Xavier's College, Bombay (but they did not con-celebrate the Mass). The church was packed as the viewing started a half hour before Mass. Before the Mass commenced, military personnel marched in strict formation in pairs towards the altar and the coffin carrying wreaths and laying them at Francis' feet. There was a lot of saluting of the body as well as quick step marching around it. Similarly, at the end of the mass, the pall-bearers were military personnel who laid the coffin in the hearse.
     Although there was a bus arranged to take people to the cemetery at Mount Carmel's Parish, Dad and I took a rickshaw there and gave a ride to one of Dad's friends called Offie (short for Ophelia). Once at the grave site, Dad took me to the grave of his sister, my Aunt Ella (whose funeral occurred a few months before I arrived in India).We then made our way to the grave site where a few people were gathered already.  Prayers were said around Francis and his family by the Bishop after which his medals were removed from his lapel on his chest and handed over to his family members together with his hat. He was buried in full military uniform. Francis had received the Vir Chakra, India's meal for heroism and bravery for his role in the Indo-Pak War of '71.
      As his coffin was lowered into the grave, one of the military musicians who was standing right besides me, used his bugle to play the Last Post.  Needless to say, this was extremely touching. Once again, it was amazing to see how composed the immediate family members were as they bid their loved one goodbye. It still breaks my heart and causes tears to come to my eyes as I remember how my father said Goodbye to my Mum at her funeral. Perhaps the worst part of a funeral is saying a final goodbye before the coffin is sealed--to think that you will never ever see this person on the face of this earth again is chilling in the extreme.
     After the funeral, we greeted a few people who had attended (Fr, Alvaro, a good friend of my Dad who told me that he never fails to read all my writing in The Examiner; my school mate Lira who was unable to attend the Alumni Reunion at St. Agnes' the other day, etc.) Luckily, we were able to find a rickshaw really quickly that took us home together with another lady called Jean to whom we offered a ride.
     Back home at Dad's. I spent the evening with him and Russel who wanted to know everything about the funeral and asked many questions.  Russel was a very good friend of Francis and I could see that he was grieving at his loss. I had dinner with them (prawn curry, cutlets and cabbage with papaya for dessert) and then left for my place where I found the time to read through one more chapter of my memoir manuscript before I fell asleep at 10.30 pm.
     Until tomorrow...