A Good Friday Nightmare

It was Good Friday night last year. I was in deep sleep after participating in an outdoor ‘Stations of the Cross” procession and subsequently hogging the left over bread (Appam) of the Maundy Thursday Passover meal. Past midnight, In the early hours, did I get a precognitive dream? I am not sure.

Heard a loud sound of a trumpet. I opened my eyes and there stood an old man!
I asked. “Who are you?”
He said: “I am Father Abraham”
Definitely not my school principal.
The song I learnt during Sunday School summer camp reverberated in the ears:

“Father Abraham had many sons
Many sons had Father Abraham
I am one of them and so are you
So let's all praise the Lord.
Right arm, left arm, right foot, left foot,
Chin up, Chin down, turn around, sit down!”

I got up. ‘Are you the Yamaraj who came to take me?’.

‘No, but I can tell your past, present or future, if you wish.’, he said.
‘No point in telling about my past or my present. Tell me something about my future’. I said.
“Yes, your wish is granted”. He continued.
“I will tell you about your next Good Friday. Is that okay?”
“2020?”. I asked to make sure he follows the Gregorian calendar.
He said, “Yes. 2020”.
I said fine.

He started in a serious tone.

“On that day you will get up and brood as usual. Because, for many weeks you had not gone out of your home. You will continue to be in hiding for long. You will not know where you kept your watch for long time. You will not have shaved your face and you will not have combed your hair for long. You would not allow anyone to visit your house. If anyone rings the bell, you would run inside the bedroom and hide there. You would stop reading newspapers. You would have already stopped taking the daily packet of milk from the vendor.”

I became scared about my future after hearing him. What would happen to me?

He continued:

“You would keep the doors and windows of your house closed for weeks and months. You would be scared of the flies, the ants and even the air entering from outside to your house. One day you would come out to the balcony and start beating a steel plate with a spoon. Another night you will suddenly switch off all lights and lit a candle and stand in darkness!”

At this point I realized, I am going to be a lunatic by next year.

He did not stop predicting my misfortune.

“You will forget to take bath and brush your teeth. But you will stand near the wash basin and will wash your hands again and again and again. You will end up spending more time washing utensils and cleaning the floor again and again and again”

“OCD. Is it?” I asked Father Abraham.

He didn’t say anything. He continued:

“You will keep counting every grain stored in the cupboard and will consume even the last broken rice on your plate. You will frantically search all around the floor for that little chick pea that dropped from the grocery basket. You will never throw the first and last piece of bread in the packet. You will relish the thick black burnt toast.”

“Will I be in utter poverty? I lost my job?” I asked. He didn’t answer.

“You will spend more time in your bed. But you will be asked to work. You will work wearing a full sleeves shirt but without your pants and sit before a screen. You will be asked to hide your face and go for work, but you will refuse because you are frightened to be out of your house.”

I was in a shock. What would happen to me? Am I going to be mad, sick, poor, or a criminal in hiding? I don’t have a clue.

“Can I escape from this impending problem?” I asked.

“No”, He said.

I started weeping.

Then he said: “You are not alone. All human beings will be like you. All of them will undergo the same ordeal”.

I heaved a sigh of relief!

But I asked him: “Can you help us? Can you – the supernatural beings or messengers of God save us?”

He said: “No I can’t. Nor anyone from the place I come from can help you. ‘And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’ “

I begged and cried again: “Can you send someone to teach us and guide us how to prevent the problems or how to sail through this impending calamity?”

“You have scientists, policy makers, doctors, researchers, priests, nuns, sages, gurus, thinkers, healers, magicians and prophets. They have machines, patents, weapons, robots, prayers, prescriptions, cures and short cuts. If they don’t do what they are supposed to do, even if someone who died and reached heaven can't come down and save all of you!!” He said.

I couldn’t say anything. He disappeared.

I went back to sleep. I forgot everything when I got up. I hurried to get ready, skipped the breakfast cooked for me, rushed out to work place, to achieve my target, to have fun and to have a little pleasure and then came back home tired and watched TV, browsed the net and slept. But I prayed. ‘Lord, don’t give me nightmares anymore!’.

(The nightmare is personal and fictional.)

© Sibichen K Mathew. Image: iconspng.

ഒരു കുരിശുചുംബനത്തിന്‍റെ വില

                                                                (കഥ)

ആഴ്ചകള്‍ക്ക് മുന്‍പ് ഒരു ഞായറാഴ്ച ഉച്ചയ്ക്ക്‌ ചൂടുള്ള മത്തിക്കറി ചോറുംപാത്രത്തിലേക്ക് ഇട്ടിട്ട് അമ്മ പറഞ്ഞു: ‘ഇനി അമ്പതു നാള്‍ ഇറച്ചിയും മീനും ഒന്നുമില്ല. നാളെ നോയമ്പ് തുടങ്ങും.’

അമ്മയുടെ പറച്ചില്‍ കേട്ടാല്‍ തോന്നും എന്നും ഇവിടെ ഇറച്ചിയും മീനും ആണെന്ന്‍! എനിക്ക്ചിരി വന്നു. എത്ര ദിവസം കൂടിയാണ് ഇന്നല്‍പം മീന്‍ വാങ്ങിയത്. അപ്പന്‍ കിടപ്പിലായതില്‍ പിന്നെ അമ്മയുടെ തൂപ്പുജോലിയില്‍ നിന്ന്‍ കിട്ടുന്ന വരുമാനം കൊണ്ടാണ് വീട്ടുചിലവുകള്‍ നടത്തുന്നത്. ബീകോംകാരന്‍ മകന് ബാങ്ക് ഓഫീസര്‍ ജോലി സ്വപ്നം കണ്ട അമ്മയ്ക്ക് അവനെ കൂലിവേലയ്ക്ക് വിടാന്‍ എന്തുകൊണ്ടോ തോന്നുന്നില്ല.

അമ്പതു നോയമ്പ് അമ്മയുടെ ജീവിതഭാരം വളരെ ലഘൂകരിക്കും. ഇനി എന്നും രാവിലെയും വൈകിട്ടും കഞ്ഞിയും മുളക് പൊട്ടിച്ചതും തന്നെ. വല്ലപ്പോഴും ഉണ്ടാക്കുന്ന പയറുകറി ഉണ്ടെങ്കില്‍ കുശാല്‍. രാവിലെ  വികാരിയച്ചന്‍ നടത്തിയ  ഘോര പ്രസംഗം ഞാന്‍ ഓര്‍ത്തു. ‘കടുത്ത ആത്മനിയന്ത്രണം കൊണ്ട് തീര്‍ച്ചയായും ഈ അമ്പതുനോമ്പുകാലം നിങ്ങള്‍ക്ക് മാംസവര്‍ജനദിവസങ്ങള്‍ ആക്കി മാറ്റാന്‍ കഴിയും’. എന്നും നോയമ്പ് നോക്കുന്ന നമ്മുക്കെന്ത് ആത്മനിയന്ത്രണം?

വിചാരിച്ചതുപോലെതന്നെ അമ്മയുടെ നോമ്പുകാല പദ്ധതികള്‍ നന്നായി പോയി. എപ്പോഴുമുള്ള ഉപവാസങ്ങള്‍ക്കൊരു ആദ്ധ്യാത്മിക പരിവേഷം വന്നു. ഞാനോ അനിയത്തിമാരോ ഒട്ടും പിറുപിറുത്തില്ല. അതുകൊണ്ടാവണം ആഴ്ചയിലെ മുഴുവന്‍നീള ഉപവാസദിനങ്ങളുടെ എണ്ണം അമ്മ ഏകപക്ഷീയമായി കൂട്ടിയത്. എല്ലാവരും നോമ്പ് വീടലിനായി കാത്തിരുന്നപ്പോഴാണ്‌ ചേച്ചിയുടെ പ്രാരാബ്ദ വരവ്. അളിയന്‍ കുടിച്ചു ലക്കുകെട്ട് ബൈക്ക് ഓടിച്ച് എവിടെയോ മറിഞ്ഞു കാലൊടിഞ്ഞത്രേ! 

A ten year old’s Holy Week memoirs

(This is the English translation of Malayalam article:

'ഒരു പത്തുവയസുകാരന്‍റെ വിശുദ്ധവാര ഓർമ്മകൾ')

                                                                                          

A Maundy Thursday 

We three; my sister, my mother's younger sister (who was just two years elder to us) and myself were in our grandma's kitchen, with our aunt who was scraping coconut, waiting to get our share to taste. It is then that my uncle arrived with some news. We felt something weird as he called my aunt and whispered something to her, without the usual exchange of pleasantries to us. Before uncle could finish, we saw aunt hitting her head and crying. Out of the three children who were standing in bewilderment, without understanding the head or tail of what has happened, uncle called my sister and me and  put his hands around us and said, "Children, brother (in law) is gone"

We didn't understand his words. We understood that 'brother' who he mentioned is our Dad. But why did he say that Dad is gone? Dad is admitted in the Medical College hospital. Yesterday my sister and I went to the hospital to meet him and we ate modern bread dipped in hot milk with him! 

When I met Dad I was reminded of the picture of Jesus which I saw in the church on Palm Sunday. His beard and moustache had grown long. With his head raised on the pillow on the frame of the bed, his face radiated the gentle and sweet smile of Jesus.

But it seemed as if he was swallowing some pain. The sweat on Dad's forehead had a reddish tint. As we were leaving the room, Dad caressed my head. I even heard Mom telling him that she will bring us again after Easter. Then why and where did Dad leave? Why did uncle have tears in his eyes and aunt stop scrapping coconut and lean on to the bed? I didn't comprehend a thing. We went to Anilachechi who would always clear any doubt that my sister or I have. I was five years old then, my sister six, and Anilachechi, seven. But we believed that Anilachechi knew everything on Earth. She told us 'Dad is dead', and cried just as uncle and aunt did. We too started crying; without knowing even the meaning or loss of death and separation.

Good Friday

As Mom lay down at the back seat of the Ambassador car which belonged to my aunt at Ernakulam, Dad's mortal remains were on the way to the cemetery. Dad, in his white shoes, beautifully made white crown, white shirt, holding cross and rosary looked so handsome. (Later, how many times I wished to lie down like that! Everyone carrying me in a coffin and me, lying there, handsome like Dad!) After 33 years of personal life and public life and Passion, where did Dad go?

                                                                                                   (noeling)

Uncles carried me one after the other. Why everyone who have gathered here looking at me and weeping? They should've looked at Dad and cried! Everywhere there was smell of incense and agarbathis. From that day my Mom, my sister and I hated that smell completely. We wished to run away from its stench. Also from the Good Friday mass!

Easter Sunday

Though my Mom, sister and I hated Good Fridays, we never hated Easter Sundays. We stood in front of the crucified Christ, in hope.

"I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies.” The priest read the Gospel loudly. From that time onwards, I am in that hope. When is Dad's resurrection? It has been days since Dad has left. I looked curiously at the picture of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. Jesus who raised Lazarus can surely raise Dad too.

Season of Easter

The same priest, who buried Dad, reads. “ He appeared to the disciples who were going to Emmaus”. Surely Dad too will appear one day. Could he stay without seeing us?

Every Sunday my eyes went to the top of the altar of the church. It was written there; 'This is the House of God and the Doorway to Heaven.' There were two doors on either side of these words. My eyes were fixed there. If this door opens to Heaven, certainly Dad would be inside. He will definitely look down at least once. But he didn’t come, not even once to look down. Did Dad forget us as he is enjoying in the midst of Jesus and angels? Didn't he get any of the letters that was neatly written on white sheets of papers and buried under the earth?

I waited, for the blow of that trumpet! For my sleeping Dad to wake up!

Link to Malayalam version 

ഒരു പത്തുവയസുകാരന്‍റെ വിശുദ്ധവാര ഓർമ്മകൾ 

(Originally published in Manorama online)

Sibichen K Mathew