Mass at St. Peter’s and Attending Funeral of Journalist Darryl D’Monte

Sunday, March 17, 2019

Bombay

Mass at St. Peter’s and Attending Funeral of Journalist Darryl D’Monte

     Namaste from Bombay!

     When I awoke this morning, I had absolutely no idea what shape my day would take—and little did I imagine that it would involve a funeral. But then I have reconciled myself to the fact that I am attending more funerals during these few months in Bombay than I have ever done in my entire life. 

     Awake at 5.00 am (yes, early again!), I sat reading the news on Twitter and The Sunday Times before I spent time blogging. It was a short post as yesterday was pretty uneventful. When the bread man came a-knocking, I bought one broon but had no time for breakfast as I had to get to Mass.

Mass at St. Peter’s Church, Bandra:

     I elected to go for Mass to St. Peter’s Church today in the interest of field-research. The Conductor of the choir at the 9.00 am Mass is Alfred DSouza, Director-Conductor of the Stop Gaps. He had told me, when I had interviewed him, a few weeks ago, that he conducts the 9.00 am Choir every Sunday at St. Peter’s. Merlin de Souza had told me that she conducts the 10.00 am choir every Sunday at the same church! So, off I went to see Alfred and his choir in action. 

     I walked briskly down the lovely side streets of Bandra for 15 minutes while the rest of the suburb was enjoying a quiet Sunday morning lie-in. The air is still crisp in the mornings and birdsong accompanied me throughout my stroll. I arrived at the church five minutes before Mass began and took a seat, as I usually, do in the front.

      I do not know who the priest was who said the Mass. The church is run by the Bombay Jesuits—brilliant priests in every sense of the term. They have done more for education in India that has any other organization. My Dad and my brothers are all proud graduates of their glorious schools and as an aged man, looking back now upon his life, my Dad cannot stop saying enough good things about the good fathers who raised him—and indeed they did, for Dad was a boarder at St. Stanislaus School from the tender age of nine. These priests were his own Dad, Mum, Brothers, Friends, Spiritual Mentors and Professional Guidance Counsellors, all rolled into one. 

     As it turns out, my cousin Blossom just forwarded to me a link to a film available on You Tube called The Bombay Jesuits made by one Adi Pocha at the instigation of Roger Pereira, who is retired from an ad agency that he founded and ran as CEO for decades. It is a very moving tribute to this amazing order of the Society of Jesus who made education their life’s mission and do it in the most selfless, caring way imaginable. More strength to them! As someone associated for this academic year while on the Fulbright Fellowship with a Jesuit Institution (St. Xavier’s College, Bombay), I am simply filled with admiration for the excellent hosting they are doing of my year and the support they have provided me. I am indeed so honored.

     But I digress—so back to the Mass. The choir was good. I realize that it was small and that it was not by any means a performance, but they were good and I enjoyed listening to them. It was the sermon that absolutely floored me. In a country in which I am getting sick of the nonsensical sermons I am forced to hear, it was enough to get me rejoicing in my seat. I have no idea who the guest priest was that preached as he was not introduced. But he came up to the podium and preached the most stirring and enlightening sermon I have heard in India so far. Based on the concept of living minimalistically, it brought in ecological conservation, the encyclical that Pope Francis put out last year that I had the privilege to read through my Book Club (Laudatum Se), the lyrics of Queen (“I Want it all and I want it now!”) and the concept of selfishness that is destroying our planet. He had facts and figures at his disposal (“One quarter of the world uses up three-quarters of the earth’s resources”) and he used them with logic, informed argument and sense throughout his sermon. Furthermore, he delivered it with style and finesse, knowing exactly where to place emphasis, where to heighten his tone, where to modulate, where to drop his voice. Such style, such elegance!~ For about ten minutes (and that was just how short but effective it was), I was transported to the UK and the various Anglican churches in which I heard such stirring rhetoric, Sunday after Sunday. Needless to say, I was simply beside myself with joy. I could have listened to him speak for a whole hour.  Thank you, good father, whoever you are, for making my week so much more enlightening, thought-provocative and reflective. 

     After Mass, I walked back home and went straight to my brekkie as I was starving—it was past 10.00 am and I had eaten nothing. A broon with spreads and a cup of coffee did the trick as I watched the last episode of The Sinner. I was too chicken to watch it at night—it was that scary. A really good serial indeed. It kept me guessing till the end.

     It was while I was breakfasting that I got a text from my friend Ashley D’Mello in Goa informing me that veteran journalist and retired Resident Editor of The Times of India, Darryl D’Monte had passed away last night. Ashley served as the Goa Correspondent of The Times of India for years and was a personal friend of Darryl’s—he had introduced me to Darryl, a few years ago, when he had sponsored me for membership of the Bandra Gymkhana. I have had occasion to meet Darryl several times since then at the Gym and through my friend Shahnaz whose late business journalist husband Muharram, was also a good friend of the D’Monte’s. I immediately asked Ashley if he had funeral information and he told me about the viewing at Darryl’s residence followed by cremation at the Shivaji Park crematorium. I then told Shahnaz about it and the two of us decided to attend the funeral together at 3.30 pm.

     I then tried to call the Bandra Gym to order Sunday lunch for Dad, Russel and me, when I was told by my man Samir that the Gym was closed today out of respect for Darryl D’Monte. His family who had once owned half of Bandra, had donated land on which the Gym was constructed in the late 1800s. As a Trustee of the Gym, Darryl continued to be actively involved until he passed away. I then called Dad and told him to go ahead and order lunch for Mr. Chow’s, the Chinese place that they like. 

The Funeral of Darryl D’Monte:

     I joined them for lunch at 12.30 and stayed chatting with them till 2.30 pm when I went home. As I walked home, I could hear the sounds of a full-throated choir singing ‘How Great Thou Art’ from Darryl’s building, Kinara, opposite the Otter’s Club facing the mighty Arabia Sea. I got home, had a brief nap and then dressed to walk five minutes down the road to Darryl’s place. The last of the viewing was on, crowds were still present although they were slowly winding their way towards their cars to get to the crematorium. I spied many of my journalist friends there—Samira, Naresh—and other friends—Marguerita Colaco and her sister Fatima, Roger Pereira, etc. Plus my friends Vinita Rodriguez and her husband Herman. 

     When Shahnaz did arrive, I hopped into her car and we reached Shivaji Park in about a half hour.  Thankfully, it was a Sunday, when the traffic is not too bad.  However, the digging that is going on all over Bombay to install the proposed metro service, is doing a number on traffic all over the city. When we reached the crematorium, I remembered nothing of it except the great hall in which my own Mum had been cremated.  Darryl’s, like my Mum’s, was an electric cremation.  Since Darryl was a non-believer, there was no religious service of any kind and no priest present. 

     I saw that a number of people who had not come to the viewing were at the crematorium—people who live in South Bombay, for instance, such as Dolly Thakore and her son, Quasar (both of whom I have interviewed recently and so said Hello to).

      As for tributes and eulogies, there was Farokh Dhondy, veteran journalist of The Times of India who had been Darryl’s classmate at the University of Cambridge and remained his closest friend throughout his life. He spoke of their undergrad days at Cambridge and the tricks to which they got up—including looking through the student roster to try to find the names of Indian female students. They identified three of them from Newnham College (then an all-girls college) and invited them to their room for Tea. One of the girls happened to be one Zarine Jussawala who was reading Psychology. Darryl hit it off with her right away and, as Farokh put it, they have remained together ever since. Zarine and Darryl married and had one son, Samir, who was tear-struck throughout the funeral. Farrokh offered some funny insights into a man who was well-loved for his fearless journalism, his championing of varied causes, his mentorship of young journalists, his passion for the environment (he pioneered environmental journalism in India). He was also lauded as a warm friend, a man with a delightful sense of humor and a great intellect. 

     Farokh’s tribute was followed by one delivered by journalist Naresh Fernandes—whom I had interviewed last week.  Naresh read from a prepared script but he talked about Darryl’s mission as a passionate writer. Next came Narendra Panjwani who talked about Darryl’s project to plant trees all over Bandra. He said that a long as those trees were standing, Darryl’s spirit would remain in Bandra and Bombay. Mariam Dossal, an old friend of Darryl’s then spoke—I remember her vaguely as a fellow Elphinstonian from my time. Her mother Mrs. Dossal taught me  Public Administration at Elphinstone College. Finally, the tributes ended with a very tearful son, Samir, talking about his relationship with his father. As an only child, Samir spoke about the lessons he has learned from his father—the best legacy that he leaves behind.

     It was all very simple and very moving. Shahnaz and I consoled with Zarine and Samir and while the attendees moved towards the body in the very simple casket to strew rose petals on it just before it was relegated to the flames, I said a prayer for a man whose illustrious and generous family has sowed the seeds of the benefits that I enjoy today through the Bandra Gymkhana. D’Monte Park is named after the DMonte Family and D’Monte Park Road, which is literally a block away from my studio, was also named after them. While having descended through landed gentry, the D’Montes shared their resources with much generosity so that all of society could benefit from them. He will be much missed in the community.

Spending the Evening with Shahnaz:

     Shahnaz then drove us back to Bandra and asked me to come over to her place to spend the evening—which I did. We sat doing nothing more than chatting and catching up as we have not seen each other for the past couple of weeks. She is juggling a great deal with year-end closing  as she grapples with the financial affairs of her family, the coping methods and strategies for dealing with grief after their sudden loss for herself and her children, the plans she has for the way forward. She gave me a glass of chaas which was delicious and redolent with black pepper and curry leaves—low-fat, low-calorie and just wonderfully tasty! I then introduced her to You Tube and the Oxford Webcam and told her that it has become my happy place—because as I spoke to her I realized that all of us use coping mechanisms that work for us. As I am missing Llew more and more each day (for we have never been parted for such a long time before this), Oxford has become the place to which I escape in my imagination. She thought it was incredibly clever of me to have carved this mental niche for myself. 

     I then walked over to Dad’s by climbing lovely Pali Hill as twilight descended upon the city. Dad, Russel and I then sat eating dinner—the remains of the afternoon’s noodles, chilli chicken and won tons from Mr.Chow and about 8.30, I left and walked home. 

     I then finally had a shower and settled down to watch some TV—I watched an episode of Vera, then spoke on the phone to Llew and went to bed rather late-close to midnight. 

     Until tomorrow...