Gods don’t keep property deeds 2

 

A story in three parts.

Part 1 of the story introduces Kartik Venugopal, an ambitious 40-year-old politician from Kerala seeking to expand his party's influence. Following a guru's claim that Velankanni Basilica was originally a Hindu shrine, Kartik seizes the political opportunity to champion historical reclamation. However, a sobering conversation with his former history professor, Meera Nair, challenges his narrative, emphasizing that history requires rigorous evidence rather than manufactured political convenience.

Read Part 1 here.

 

Illustration by Copilot Designer

Part 2

Another encounter came unexpectedly.

A week later, Kartik visited his aunt Devaki Amma in their ancestral village which was now in Tamil Nadu, just across the Kerala border. She was his mother’s elder sister, a 78-year-old widow who lived alone in a small house with a small garden. She was a devout Hindu, though never particularly interested in religious controversies.

On the wall of her prayer room hung pictures of Lord Murugan and Mary of Velankanni. Kartik had noticed the picture of Mary many times earlier too but had never thought much about it.

Devaki Amma was diagnosed with leukaemia some years earlier. Doctors had given the family little hope. During that period, she had made a pilgrimage to Velankanni. She returned home after several days, and, to everyone’s surprise, her condition had improved. In the months that followed, she recovered steadily.

She called it a miracle.

Kartik hadn’t thought about it at all. Politics didn’t require religious contemplations.

That afternoon, Devaki Amma asked him about his political activities. “I heard that you’re going to fight for the recovery of the Velankanni temple.”

“Basilica, Amma. It was originally a Hindu shrine.” ‘’

“Really?”

“Swami Rudramurthy says so. We must investigate these things.”

She looked at him for a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why must you investigate?”

“Because our history must be restored.”

She smiled faintly. “Your history? Is that why you’re doing it?”

Kartik felt irritated. “Amma, you don’t understand these things.”

“Perhaps I don’t. But I know something about Velankanni.”

He looked at the little picture of Mother Mary.

“When I was ill, I went there because I had heard much about the place from neighbours. I prayed to Mother Mary. I didn’t know whether she was the mother of Jesus or mother of Murugan. I only knew I was frightened and wanted solace.”

She paused.

“I came back. I recovered. You can say it was the medicines, the doctors, nature or coincidence. I don’t argue with anyone. But I know what happened inside me.”

Kartik said nothing.

“That place gave me hope when I had almost none. Now you tell me that it belongs to someone else because of something that may have happened hundreds of years ago.”

“Amma, nobody is saying that you cannot pray there.”

“Then what are you fighting for?”

He had no answer.

She continued. “Listen, Kartik, I am a Hindu. I pray to Murugan. I go to temple. But I have also prayed at Velankanni. Did Mother Mary ask me to change my religion? Did Murugan become angry with me?”

She laughed faintly. “Perhaps gods are not as possessive as human beings.”

Kartik looked at the picture of Mary.

“Miracles come from faith, my boy, not from history. I don’t know who worshipped at that place before. I don’t’ even know whether the Swami is right. But I know what the place means to me. Don’t take that away from people like me.”

“Why do all these women lecture at me?” Kartik asked himself when he returned to the heat and dust of his hometown of Palakkad.

***

To be concluded