Monday, February 08, 2021

Ode to the faithful



The Pentecost pastor was paying tribute to dear departed AJ, who had played host to many of his ilk in her heyday. Ever since she experienced Christ in spirit and person, and joined one of the numerous Pentecost sects that thrive in Kerala, she had welcomed home all who professed the same faith. They were her new family as her sons lived abroad with their families. 

Her husband, a railway station master, had passed away long back and much before she left her traditional faith. She lived alone in a renovated house in hilly central Kerala, in the backyard of a now famous hospital. Apart from the neighbourhood Dalits or the born-again Dalits who came for sleepovers, she often had real snakes and a big knife under her pillow to guard her at night. She would talk kindly to the snake that glided past on the wooden ceiling, and ask him not to scare her too much.

Her cooking seemed simple but even an omelette made by her hands tasted so good that her nephew couldn't stop raving about it. On every trip to the home town, he would visit her to be rewarded with a sincere prayer for his welfare and a loving kiss on the cheek.

As fate would have it, cancer struck after she had crossed her 80s. No amount of prayers, traditional medicines or allopathy could save her. But worse than the physical pain was the neglect in old age. Left without a stable help, she was forced to shift to a home for the old and the sick even though the younger son had settled down in the State by then. Since the daughter in law did not want anything to do with her, the son refused to take her home and nurse her. Her pleas to all and sundry to help her out of the old-age hell she was kept in fell on deaf ears. The cancer spread and she died heartbroken by the abandonment.

The son sobbed while speakers at the funeral eulogised her big heart and her skills in composing songs of praise to Our Lord Jesus Christ. Pastor after pastor reiterated how man could do nothing and God decides everything and how there is nothing to expect in this world and the best is yet to come in paradise, in the lap of God. If Covid had forced humans to rush to science after brave posturings initially about the power of cow urine or divine healing, the advent of vaccines had made faith brokers boast once again about God's supreme skills. The angry God of the Old Testament was back in the armour of the Pentecost pastor trying to sow the seeds of faith in the hearts of the fence-sitters.

Meanwhile, AJ had reached a dead end. Her spirit hovered above the grieving relatives singing hymns about the impending rendevous in heaven. She wished she could tell them there was nothing to look forward to - no paradise, no lap, and no burning hell that the pastors had threatened about all these years. That faith was a myth that kept humans ever hopeful of a better world elsewhere instead of trying to make a better world while they had their chance on a small beautiful planet called Earth.

#Death #Funeral #Salvation

1 comment:

Susan Jacob said...

. "That faith was a myth that kept humans ever hopeful of a better world elsewhere instead of trying to make a better world while they had their chance on a small beautiful planet called Earth."

Love this. However I would think that despite the uncertainty of a better world, we should strive to make a better world on earth itself.
Touching story Roshin. Loneliness in old age coupled with a terminal disease is indeed hell, and she deserved a better death, in the loving care of her family and the pastors whom she loved and respected.
Thanks for sharing.

On April 16, we residents looked forward to another rain despite the note of caution from authorities. Seeing the rainy weather, V decided b...