He's a jolly good fellow..

Have you known people in your life that make you feel unequivocally loved and blessed, irrespective of what you do? I've been blessed knowing a few people like that. Funnily enough, these people turn up in your life just when you need them the most, like angels, though don't tell them I said so! My friend AR, is one such person. My ex-Parish priest, Fr. Hugh is another. Let me tell you our story. Make sure you've got a nice cup of warm coffee and some time before you go on. This could take a while, but I promise to be quick!

I first got to know Fr.H in school. He was in charge of the Student Leaders Movement (SLM) in the deanery and based in SakiNaka while we were in Chembur, in the 8th std, I think. We trekked regularly to Sakinaka, for meetings with student leaders from schools all over the place. We discussed, as 'leaders' are prone to do, matters of national and social importance. Fr. H was (still is) a firebrand. He imbibed in us a strong sense of social justice and we felt we could change the world. From exhibitions, demonstrations, rallies, street plays...we did everything to raise awareness about issues like child labour (a hot topic then), women's rights, communal harmony and other clichéd topics. It was a great movement to be involved with and I'm glad we had the chance.

School over, we made promises to keep in touch and be a part of the SLM. Of course, once college took over, who wants to go back to school? Years passed and we occasionally heard about Fr.H, transferred to other parishes.

Life took over and although I still felt that I had the power to change the world, things were not happening at the pace I hoped they would. Still, that optimism of the impact that we can make as individuals has never quite dwindled. So if you find me making complaints about shoddy service, corrupt or lazy bureaucrats, bad behaviour or just someone being cheated, you can easily blame Fr.H for his early inspiration.

Fourteen years after leaving school, we moved to Borivili from Chembur and it turned out that my favorite Fr.H was now the parish priest. Surely he wouldn't remember me after all those years. I had changed, grown up. He had , in those intervening years, come across hundreds of students and youngsters out of which I was probably just a blur, if any. I saw him at Mass one morning, older, in a wheelchair having hurt his back after a fall. The sparkle was there, so was the wit. He hadn't changed.

I didn't bother to get in touch, knowing that he won't recognise/remember me. Then one night, almost 6 months after we moved, I dreamt that he had died. Now if there's one thing I swear by, it's the policy of not having any regrets. The next morning, I wrote him a letter and dropped it in the church office on my way to work. I could have called or walked in and said hello, but words have always been my shield and I preferred the safety of paper. Atleast, I consoled myself, I tried.

I was in the train that morning when my cell phone rang. It was Fr.H. Of course he remembered me. And my sister. And my mum. And that my dad died. And he remembered Charu and Rishi and some other school friends from the SLM. I didn't expect him to. It was so great talking to him. He said he'd box my ears for not getting in touch earlier. I said I'd be happy to let him. I promised to drop in to see him over the weekend and went to work a happier person.

I did visit him. He was the same. It is such a relief when people stay the same, even when their bodies change, become more fragile over the years. Fr.H has this reassuring air about him. You feel that everything is going to be allright. Those were the days when I was in my 'questioning the point of going for Mass' stage. Suspecting that he would rope me into some parish activities, told him that. He said, don't come for Mass, do something else. Hmmm. Was stuck there. Just dropped in to say hello and ended up helping with the editing of the parish bulletin and conducting sessions for local council meetings.

I took Mr.R to Fr.H for his approval and blessing. He also said my sister's wedding mass. We've kept in touch via email since I've moved here and I've promised that it will not be another 14 years before I come to see him again.

This June, he's moved out of Borivili, to Mahim as parish priest of St. Michael's. Lucky Mahim. We're going to miss him. I remember conducting some training programs at St.M's. Doing it again with Fr.H around would be great fun. Hope he's around when I get around to doing it again. Till then, all you Mahim-wallah's, if you meet my jolly old Fr.H, tell him I said hello and am thinking of him. Hope you love him as much as I do!