Yet Another Interview and Yet Another Funeral

Thursday, February 7, 2019
Bombay

Yet Another Interview and Yet Another Funeral

     Namaste from Bombay!
     What a sad day! I returned from my third funeral in five months in Bombay--and this was only a kid. Just past forty years old! Oh, the tragedy of life is that death comes--yes, to us all--but for some much too soon...
     Up at 5.30 am, I blogged and checked out Twitter, but could not spend too much time lingering over my muesli and coffee breakfast as I had a fairly early interview to do--9.30 am at the Bandra Gymhhana. I was meeting Neale Murray, Co-Founder of a multimillion dollar company called Fountainhead Mktg which started off doing event management but has evolved into so many different avenues--one of which involves bringing top-gun musical entertainment to India. However, I was more interested in finding out from Neale about his early involvement in the parish zonal competitions in Bandra.
     We met on schedule and had a very fruitful hour-long chat in which he talked about all sorts of things--not just by way of promoting his company and his venture, but, more importantly about the role and contribution of the Christian community to Western Performing Arts in the city--which is the crux of my inquiry. He is also a very personable guy and I had a very enlightening chat with him. What I love most about meeting all these people is how different their stories are, how varied is their contribution to my project and how much I am learning from each one of them.

Back to Work at Home:
     Since I began my interview early, I finished it early too. But 10.30 am, I was back home (it helps that Bandra Gym is only 5 minutes from my place) to jump into the shower. I then sat down to do two things: finish reading through the manuscript of my memoir (I made many changes as I went along) and finish transcribing the interview I did with Etienne Coutinho before I had to leave for (yet another) funeral.
     With both those tasks actually finished by 1.45 (Go Me!), I was able to eat my lunch: Meat Curry with Potatoes (I think it is buffalo, but it is delicious), dal, snack gourd and a tiny bit of pasta with vegetables. All delicious!
     There was only enough time left then to get dressed and leave for Dad's.

Off to a Funeral:
     Dad and I were off to our church (St. Anne's, Pali Hill) for the funeral of a beloved neighbor--Kreisler Drego--who lived in a building down our lane. I have known him since he was a baby. I remember his mother Odette (who passed away a few years ago) as a lovely person--warm, friendly, intelligent (she used to be a teacher at the Convent of Jesus and Mary--Cambridge section) and just over the moon when she gave birth to her lovely baby boy. She married very late in life and had her first and only child very late. So, being that she was a much older (but very recent) mother, I found it nice to chat with her about bringing up babies when Chriselle was born just two years after Kreisler.
I was very shocked and saddened to find that she had passed away while still young. And now her son follows her to the gates of heaven...
     What was most pitiful was looking upon Arnold, Kreisler's Dad, now left alone to wallow in his grief--having lost his wife and now their only child. Can you imagine how bleak life ahead must look for him? I simply cannot bear to think about so desolate a situation. He was a picture of composure (not a whimper, not a tear throughout the Mass and burial), but I am sure that shock has numbed him. When reality hits, it will do so badly. I can only pray that he will find a quiet center somewhere in his being to sustain him on the dark road ahead.
     The Mass was con-celebrated by seven priests--two from our parish, two who served previously in our parish and three whom I did not know at all. It was the very epitome of quiet simplicity--there was a viewing for a half hour at the altar before Mass began. There was a very young chap (about 13 years old) who did the Reading very competently (probably a cousin), but there was no eulogy. Throughout the Mass, I was in tears. I found the hymns so moving, so terribly grief-provoking.
      The church was crowded as Kreisler was very well-known and very well-loved. He was such a simple, beautiful soul. He never failed to ask me how Chriselle was doing, year after year, when I arrived in Bombay from the US and this time too, he actually chatted with me about Trump and the US administration. I have never known him to be anything other than cheerful and friendly--just like his mother. I do not know Arnold well but my Dad who has worked closely with him in the Seniors Group was telling me what a lovely man he is too.
     Dad and I took the bus that had been arranged to get attendees to the cemetery--St. Andrew's Churchyard--where there was a large crowd too. Again, I found it profoundly moving to be in that space when we were burying someone far too young to go. It turns out that he was a diabetic and that his blood sugar shot up. That is all I know with regards to his end. Only last week, he was at the parish picnic where, it seems, he was the life of the event--rooting for his team in a game and actually winning for them. The uncertainty of life, the sudden snuffing out with which it happens, is so inexplicable to me. Such occasions give us pause to reflect and to appreciate each healthy day that has been gifted to us. It reinforces my determination to make each day count.
     After Kreisler's burial, Dad and I wound our way past the rows of graves to Mum's grave where we said a few prayers. Then on to the graves of Dad's dear friends Joe and Celine Mendonca and then to the graves of my god parents, Anne (my Mum's sister) and her husband Alex. We then paused to nibble on biscuits and coffee that were available for all mourners when we ran into Patsy Furtado, a neighbor, who told us that it was not Kreislers's blood sugar but his blood pressure that soared.  I suppose we will never know...and it does not matter He is now reposing quietly in the arms of his mother Odette and His Blessed Mother where he is free of the cares of our world. May he rest in peace.
     Patsy gave Dad and me a ride home in her spiffy red car. I spent the rest of the evening at Dad's, chatting with Russel who wanted to know all about the funeral. I left with Dad at 7.30 when he was making his way to our parish Soup Kitchen--a new activity that has been initiated to feed the poor by providing one meal a week. Other parishes in Bandra are doing it on other days--what a brilliant idea and what a great way to reach out to those who have not even a square meal a day in a suburb that is so affluent!
     Back home, I finished proof reading my text on Etienne, was delighted to find that Google had recovered and restored my blog and my gmail accounts--thanks to assistance from my friend Meredith in New York--and that I was back on track again. As I had eaten toast (rusks) and a malpua at Dad's (because he was so hungry), I had only a cup of soup and two crackers with blue cheese for dinner--but I did have a small helping of ice-cream (pralines and cream) which I swirled around with chocolate sauce--an ice-cream treat at home after ages tasted divine as I watched Agatha Raisin.
     I continued reading Bloodline Bandra before I fell asleep by 10.00pm.
     Until tomorrow...