Skip to main content

Night Vigil

 Fiction 


“Alleluia Alleluia...” Anna shouted along with the hundreds of devotees attending the night vigil.  The Alleluia cries were interspersed with ‘Praise the Lord’ and ‘Amen’ shouts too. In the background was permissibly highest decibel music that violently struck the indigestion in your innards. Right in front of the altar was a priest in white cassock who behaved like a prestidigitator clapping hands, shouting verses from the Bible mentioning the chapter and verse, and asking the devotees to shed their sins. “Come on, Joe, Mary, Tessy, Mathew… look into your hearts and see the darkness of the sins you’ve committed.” The priest, Rev Fr Joseph Thonnivasathil VD, was shouting through his collar mike.

In spite of all that commotion, Annamma heard the vibration of her mobile phone in her entrails. So palpable was the vibration that she thought the call must be from Jomon, her husband, though that was quite unlikely because Jomon was the lead singer in Rev Fr Thonnivasathil’s Night Vigils.

By the way, I know I’m telling a story that is being read by people from all kinds of religious and irreligious and blasphemous backgrounds. So, being a good teacher though not a good story teller, I must tell you what a night vigil is. It is a device invented by some Catholic priests with the intention of bringing the faithful back to the church building. Since we live in hard times, in spite of Modiji’s claims about GDP, BJP and other Pees, all useful people are too busy during the daytime to attend the morning Mass and appendices like the office of the dead in the church. So the parish churches are empty in the morning except for some harried old women who come to buy their front circle seats in heaven since their entire life on earth had been their hell. 

Our protagonist, Annamma, is attending one such night vigil with the motive of ensuring a front circle seat in heaven. She is a nurse in a prominent hospital in Delhi. Oh, did you know that Delhi has some Catholic churches too and that too owned by the proud Zero-Malabar faithful from Kerala? The Malayalis are so proud of themselves that they carry their cooking vessels and praying traditions with them wherever they go. Even in Timbuctoo you will find a Catholic Zero-Malabar priest and some Malayali Alleluias.

I’m sorry for this sort of digressions. This is how I am. A woefully bad story teller and a worse teacher. I have a student who puts his head down on the desk the moment I digress from the topic in class. I’m fortunate to have Abel as a student. Now I would like to have him here too as a reader of my blog to point out my drawbacks. Abel is my best critic. My benefactor. My God.

Annamma’s God is somewhere in the outer space where she believes is a place called Paradise. God is sitting there on a throne. All around Him are the angels singing alleluias all the time in high decibels that sends reverberating Doom-Doom pulses into Annamma’s weakening veins. Doom is something that enchants Annamma. She thinks Paradise is a kind of doom, the End, though she doesn’t want any ends. If science could give her immortality, she would choose to live here on earth for ever rather than there in God’s Paradise though she is in love with alleluias.

Annamma’s mobile phone’s ringtone is also an Alleluia. The phone is on silent mode now since Annamma is a devout Zero-Malabar Malayali attending the night vigil in Saint Thoma’s Church in Tughlakabad Extension of Delhi. Rev Fr Thonnivasathil VD is choreographing a humungous dance from the stage (what has become a stage for him, I mean). Everyone around Annamma is swaying to the music of that paradisical choreography. Annamma was swaying too until her phone vibrated. Annamma thinks the call may be from her husband Jomon. They love each other so much that the love is palpable even in the vibrations of their phones.

But it is not Jomon who is calling. He is there on the stage with Rev Fr Thonnivasathil VD creating waves of divine music with his melodious voice. Alleluia. Praise the Lord. Amen.

Annamma goes out of the church and answers the call which she knows is from her sister Celinamol. Celinamol is like Janam TV bringing news about some catastrophe. If there’s no catastrophe to report, Janam will create one somewhere like some Tughlaq keeping beef in his fridge or some Sita Devi being love-jihaded by a Mohamad or something like that.

However, what Celinamol says now shocks Annamma in spite of the Jomon’s and Rev Fr Thonnivasathil’s alleluias strumming the cords of her heart. Their brother’s family is going to be on the streets soon as the brother has been unable to repay the loan he took from the cooperative bank. Cooperative banks are like vampires, do you know? They suck. Ask Amit Shah, if you want more details.

“He brought it upon himself, didn’t he?” Annamma asks Celinamol. Their bro who is going to lose his house now is a monstrous character like Satan in Annamma’s moral science framework which has nothing to do with her religion. Celinamol explains to Annamma that their sis-in-law and children will suffer too and something must be done to save them from this hellish situation.

“Alleluia,” says Annamma. “Praise the Lord.” Annamma’s God calls her back to the church. Your brother cannot be more important than God. Especially if he has been nothing more than a wastrel. “Tell him to go to hell,” Annamma says with the certainty that belongs to firm religious believers.

“Learn to forgive,” Rev Fr Thonnivasathil VD is preaching now from his stage. The high decibel music continues to resounds as Annamma returns to the church to pray to her God who lies dead on a cross behind Rev Fr Thonnivasathil VD. Annamma looks at the dead god and feels a spiritual ecstasy in her veins as the night is getting darker outside in spite of the high voltage street lamps on the city’s vast highways and Tughlakabad’s narrow lanes. 


x

Comments

  1. Hari OM
    Blind them with the Light - that's the plan, heh na? YAM xx

    ReplyDelete
  2. Such a choice. (Digressions are fine. The trick is to figure out how to work them in so they appear seamless. If I knew how to do that...)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Earlier students loved my digressions. They said the digressions were more interesting and rewarding. But the present students want only what's required for exams!

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

The Little Girl

The Little Girl is a short story by Katherine Mansfield given in the class 9 English course of NCERT. Maggie gave an assignment to her students based on the story and one of her students, Athena Baby Sabu, presented a brilliant job. She converted the story into a delightful comic strip. Mansfield tells the story of Kezia who is the eponymous little girl. Kezia is scared of her father who wields a lot of control on the entire family. She is punished severely for an unwitting mistake which makes her even more scared of her father. Her grandmother is fond of her and is her emotional succour. The grandmother is away from home one day with Kezia's mother who is hospitalised. Kezia gets her usual nightmare and is terrified. There is no one at home to console her except her father from whom she does not expect any consolation. But the father rises to the occasion and lets the little girl sleep beside him that night. She rests her head on her father's chest and can feel his heart...

Modi’s Art of Censorship

One of the infinite ironies about Narendra Modi’s India is its flagrant censorship while claiming to be the most tolerant civilisation. A Guardian report today informs us that Arundhati Roy’s 2020 book, Azadi , is banned in Kashmir for promoting a “false narrative and secessionism.” Being a fan of Ms Roy’s rebellious spirit, I buy her books as they are published. I had reviewed this book ( Azadi ) back in 2020 when it was published. The Congress government that ruled India for a very long period, before Modi’s rhetoric mesmerised the Indian electorate, was highly flawed. Corruption ran in its every single vein. Yet it was far better than what Modi brought in its place. The glaring hypocrisy of the Congress was a glue that held India together, Ms Roy says in this censored book of hers. What she means to say is that though secularism was not practised sincerely or consistently the pretence of it acted as a binding force that maintained a kind of social and political equilibrium. T...

Solzhenitsyn’s Many Disillusionments

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn died a sad and disillusioned man. Solzhenitsyn was a genuine socialist in the beginning. He fought for the Red Army in WWII. He was a committed Soviet patriot. Equality, justice, and dignity of the workers were his ideals, his dreams. However, Stalin became a brutal dictator and Solzhenitsyn became his vocal critic. As a result, Solzhenitsyn was arrested and sent to the Gulag: a network of inhuman labour camps. Hundreds of Russians were tortured and killed in those camps and Solzhenitsyn was disillusioned with socialism. The Russian Revolution was supposed to have liberated the common citizens from imperial oppressions. However, the new government under Stalin was far more ruthless, unjust, and oppressive than the empire. The socialist ideology became a kind of deity for which everything else was sacrificed, including truth. Writing the story of his life in the camp in The Gulag Archipelago , Solzhenitsyn warned that such systems coul...

The Real Enemies of India

People in general are inclined to pass the blame on to others whatever the fault.  For example, we Indians love to blame the British for their alleged ‘divide-and-rule’ policy.  Did the British really divide India into Hindus and Muslims or did the Indians do it themselves?  Was there any unified entity called India in the first place before the British unified it? Having raised those questions, I’m going to commit a further sacrilege of quoting a British journalist-cum-historian.  In his magnum opus, India: a History , John Keay says that the “stock accusations of a wider Machiavellian intent to ‘divide and rule’ and to ‘stir up Hindu-Muslim animosity’” levelled against the British Raj made little sense when the freedom struggle was going on in India because there really was no unified India until the British unified it politically.  Communal divisions existed in India despite the political unification.  In fact, they existed even before the Briti...