Dinpanah

I had reconciled to the fact that soon I will have to voluntarily renounce my post-graduation degree and be content with my academic qualification being downgraded to BA History Honours.  Firstly, I did not earn this degree in the rightful manner. Having attended a mere six classes in two years of post-graduation and clearing sixteen sets of question papers by just glancing through the tutorials given by friends a night before every examination. But, then I suppose, this was quite normal in Delhi University. The more important reason was the recent revelations in many parts of the country by the new-age erudite scholars who are busy changing historical facts in Medieval Indian History, which happens to be my area of specialisation.

It was at that moment, when a fatwa was issued by a close friend of mine during our recent visit to Delhi. He said, “You will not leave Delhi without visiting Humayun’s Tomb and the underground museum opened recently there, thanks to the wonderful work done by Aga Khan Trust, ASI and other Indian corporates.” And so, on a bright sunny December morning, we landed at Humayun’s Tomb and bought tickets for the famed mausoleum and the museum. A walk around this place made me pause and rekindled hope and love for the glorious life and times in Medieval India. Sharing some of the highlights of the visit based on the monuments seen there and the quotes from some of plaques in the beautifully curated museum.

Humayun's tomb (Maqbara-i Humayun) was commissioned by Humayun's first wife, Empress Hamida Banu Begum in 1558 and completed in 1572, with the patronage of Emperor Akbar and was designed by Persian architects Mirak Mirza Ghiyas and his son, Sayyid Muhammad. The tomb is a precursor to the Taj Mahal. It stands on a platform of 12000 mts and reaches a height of 47 mts. The complex encompasses the main tomb of Emperor Humayun, which houses the graves of Empress Hamida Banu Begum, and also Dara Shikoh, great-great-grandson of Humayun and son of the later Emperor Shah Jahan, as well as numerous other subsequent Mughals. In all, there are over 100 graves within the entire complex earning it the name "Dormitory of the Mughals".

The main tomb was placed at the centre of a 30-acre Charbagh, a Persian-style garden with a quadrilateral layout. It was the first of its kind in South Asia on such a scale and the plaque describing the significance states…"A ‘hasht-bihisht’ meaning ‘eight heavens’ in Persian was a geometric plan for gardens, pavilions and mausoleums consisting of a central square, divided into nine sections. It also represented the astrological concept of eight planets corresponding to eight heavens. Akbar envisioned a paradise garden on earth as his father’s final resting place. The essence and beauty of this Chaharbagh is its spiritual importance as a symbol of paradise; through geometry, flowing water and life itself. The garden is divided by four channels of flowing water representing the four rivers of Quranic Paradise. The river Yamuna to the East gave access to boats to directly disembark at the garden. The Mughal royals cherished their time in the gardens conducting court, entertaining, meeting with family and friends.”

Humayun’s Tomb stands in an extremely significant archaeological setting, centred at the Shrine of the 14th century Sufi Saint, Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya whom he revered and he also set up his fort Dinpanah at what is now known as Purana Qila. The city of Delhi has since developed over the centuries with this shrine as the focal point. The museum has a replica of the Sufi Saint’s final resting place and a plaque there burst a myth of old. Everyone quotes Jehangir on what he said about Kashmir that, “If there is a Paradise on Earth, it’s here, it’s here, it’s here.” I learnt that these immortal lines were actually penned by Amir Khusrau, many centuries ago, as a tribute to Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia, who lived in this area.

“The dome of Humayun’s mausoleum is crowned by a majestic gilded copper finial. The finial is an exemplar of the incredible scientific achievement in metallurgy of Hindustani craftsmen. Inspired by the Hindu and Jain temples, the grandeur of the six-meter-tall finial is of a design and scale not seen before. It is also said to have served as a lightning conductor. Following the damage to the finial in 2014, an exact replica was restored to the dome. This required a 22 feet log of teak, especially manufactured copper sheets of 99.4% percent purity, the application of eight layers of gold leaf- and, the most challenging effort to fix the finial at a 50-meter height atop the dome. The conservation of the damaged finial was achieved after a two-year effort by 10th generation coppersmiths using traditional hand tools. The repaired finial still retains gold leaf.”

Another interesting fusion seen was the six-pointed star which was significant to Humayun, who first used them prominently on gateways of his citadel of Dinpanah in Delhi. The six-pointed star is known as ‘Shatkona’ in Hinduism, and the ‘Star of David’ in Jewish religion. At Humayun’s mausoleum they are the most prominent ornamentation – seen on the spandrels of the arches of the gateways and mausoleum; and those on the principal arches includes a lotus bud in the centre. 

Emperor Humayun was greatly influenced by astronomy and much progress was made in this science during his time. There are on display seven bronze figures of Humayun wearing colours of the Planetary Lord of each day of the week: Moon (white) on Monday, Mars (red) on Tuesday, Mercury (blue/purple) on Wednesday, Jupiter (beige) on Thursday, Venus (green) on Friday, Saturn (black) on Saturday and Sun (yellow) on Sunday.

Another plaque told us about the story of Nizam, the water carrier. “After the defeat by Sher Shah, Humayun nearly drowned while fording the river Ganga at Chausa. Weighed down by his heavy armour, Humayun was rescued from drowning `by a water carrier named Nizam. In gratitude, Humayun respectfully referred to him as ‘Nizam Auliya’ and to show his gratitude, made the unprecedented gesture of allowing him to sit on the throne of Hindustan for a day. This revolutionary act of generosity by Humayun was contrary to the strict norms of social order.”

There is one plaque in the museum containing the letter that informed Akbar of Humayun’s fall, which led to his demise, written on 24th January, 1556. It stated…"We went up to the roof of the library…and there we held interviews until the evening prayer. When it was time for the evening prayer and we were in a hurry to get down, we had gone a few steps down the stone staircase…when the call for the prayer was given. We wanted to sit down and as we were in the act if sitting, our royal foot caught in the hem of our fur coat and we rolled down the stairs to the bottom…”

It will take any visitor an entire day if he were to do justice to this entire complex containing multiple tombs, museum and a massive garden complex known as Sunder Nursery. Since, we did not have the luxury of time, we gave the garden a miss and apart from the main mausoleum of Humayun, visited Isa Khan’s Tomb and mosque. Isa Khan Niyazi was a noble in the court of Sher Shah Suri. The octagonal tomb is positioned within an octagonal garden, which was built during his own lifetime and the reign of Islam Shah Suri, son of Sher Shah. It later served as a burial place for the entire family of Isa Khan. On the western side of the tomb lies a three-bay wide mosque, in red sandstone. 

Standing outside the boundary of the mausoleum complex is the impressive tomb known as Sabz Burj. This tomb bears no date but its architectural styles with its ornamental tile work is possibly Timurid and similar to octagonal structures seen across Central Asia. As with Humayun’s Tomb, Sabz Burj has a double dome with the outer dome and the tall drum covered with blue tiles. Some historians attribute this monument to have been built by Humayun in memory of his mother.

After Humayun and Akbar, can Shahjahan be far behind? I asked the cab driver to take us to Old Delhi or Shahjahanabad’s famous eatery of Karim’s. The driver did not know about the place, so I guided him to a place not far from Jama Masjid and then took a toto, an electric autorickshaw, that took almost twenty minutes to reach the spot after meandering through a heavily crowded street which has infinite number of stalls making fresh barbeque….no wonder the address is Gali Kababian. Karim Hotel was established in 1913 and this original place is a must go for all foodies. The place is simple and has the old-world charm but the food is finger licking. We were spoilt for choice and finally narrowed down to Mutton Burra Kebab and Seekh Kebab for starters, and Nalli Nihari with Sheermal (sweet bread) and Roti. I am very sure, the re-writers of history will not claim this Mughlai food to be theirs!

Our next destination was Khan Market and, fortunately, this had nothing to do with the Khans of Medieval Indian history. This is a large and upmarket shopping place named after Khan Abdul Jabbar Khan who was also known as Khan Sahib and was the elder brother of Frontier Gandhi, Khan Abdul Gaffar Khan, but lately is in the news, again for the wrong reasons, and some elites who visit here are categorized as the Khan Market Gang. My family just wanted to take a look at the place and we walked into a shop selling shoes. While they were talking to the salesman, I walked up to the man at the counter and asked…Is Richard Lee there? The man asked, as to why I was looking for Richard and I said, we were in school together. He gave a shout and a man in glasses walked in from the back door…that was my kindergarten buddy Richard Lee. I met him after almost half a century and took a picture with him and aptly named it, the ‘Real Khan Market Gang!’
Finally, we managed to reach the airport well in time and called up my fatwa issuing buddy. “We did all that you asked us to and more.” He was delighted and added another chapter of my personal history, “Your mother used to make the best Mughlai Parantha and that was a real treat during school days”…and so my Mughlai connection continues as I am once again proud of my academic qualifications in Medieval Indian History.

SS

Song of David

Sir David Attenborough

The other day we watched A Life on Our Planet by David Attenborough where the legendary broadcaster and biologist recounts his life and the evolutionary history of life on earth. The opening scene of how Chernobyl looks, almost forty years after the world’s biggest man-made disasters, is a peek into the future, not far from now, on how this planet will look with rapid depletion green cover, rising temperature and melting of ice caps. He also offers viable solutions, if all of us were to start working on it from now, which can slow down the process of the seventh mass extinction on this planet of ours.

We saw the documentary a couple of times and then came the time when we had to book tickets for Delhi. We looked at each other and asked…should we carry masks once again like in those pandemic times; what medicines should we carry and how quickly should we escape from the gas chamber? Chernobyl is coming…or is it already here? That is when I thought of penning a Song for David, on what the near centenarian man dreams of about the only place in the universe where life exists.

Song of David

How I long for a small patch of green

To rest and see the beautiful world around me

As I lay my body on the dewy grass

I can feel the softness of the ground

I can see green grass to my right

And green, green grass to my left

Ants and other little creatures walking around

Doing their daily chores

Quite unaware of my presence

A rabbit peeps out of the burrow

He smiles and asks of me

Come to the magical world below where Alice lived

I said, when my time comes

I shall come beneath the earth

For now, let me admire God’s paradise above

Stay well David, for the earth needs more of you

Said the tiny bunny. 

Now I look up as the orange fire ball

Peeping through the white wooly clouds above

Tick-tock, tick-tock

The world lights up

Warming my body and my soul

Wonder why Van Gogh did not paint

The Shinny Starry Morning?

My eyes love the flapping of the wings

I see a sea of waving wings, big and small

Eagles, parrots, cranes and dove

Singing their songs loud and clear

Singing and dancing in the world’s best blue theatre

It looks like a greatest fusion of philharmonic and ballet

No prizes for guessing the conductor and choreographer of the show

As it unveils before my very eyes. 

My heart feels happy, happy as can be

As I breathe the air so fresh

Filled with the fragrance of the flowers

Flowers blooming big and small

Lilies, sunflowers, petunia and roses

Makes me wonder if Monet lived around here

How else could he have painted his canvases

And filled them with flowers, shrubs and trees

But even he would have tried to match the beauty

The greatest of all painters did

When He created the flowers and filled them with colours

From His pallet that no artist will ever be able to re-create

Colours that change with time and seasons

Shades which will make AI engines buffer forever.

As I turn to my left, I see unending sea

Of bushes, trees and shrubs

Deep from within the forest land

Cries of beasts shrill, loud and roar

Sounds of hooves of the hunters and the hunted

Ending with the deathly shrieks

Tells me of a bustling habitat for animals

Where they roam, hunt and sleep

Dear William Blake

Please don’t take a break

Write beyond the lonely Tyger

Write about the mighty elephant and the tiny red panda

And say again and again

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

My eyes wander to the gushing stream nearby

The changing moods of flowing water

From gentle roll to picking up speed and then falling over the hill

Makes me get up and take a dip

The water is so cold and clean

And as I keep going deeper and deeper

The colourful fishes, big and small

Swooshed past me as if a rainbow passed

They looked happy and spirited

Till the bigger fish arrived

The food cycle in the water must go on

Fishing must also go on, within limits of course

The corals should not lose their pigments

The water must stay ever so clean and limitless

Giving us food, water and life forever

Finally, I put my head up above the water

And my eyes fall on tall snow-covered mountains

Of glaciers flowing by

Penguins, polar bears and snow leopards

Running across the huge chunks of ice.

 

Can anything be more majestic, more serene

And I said to myself

What a wonderful world!

Can we not keep it so wonderful and beautiful?

Can we not make progress and yet rejuvenate the planet?

This planet is not ours to keep

It is for us to keep for our children and their children

We still have time

Not to reverse the climate clock

But to hold it firm where it is now

Never to let it go down any further

All we seek is trees of green

Skies of blue

Mountains of white

Waters so true

So it can remain forever

A Wonderful World.

SS

Bom Bahai Dairies- 6: The Crown Jewel

Hello Vicky, you are looking upset today. Tell me, what’s wrong?

Sir, it is nothing. The caretaker at my Guwahati home gave away my grandfather’s gramophone about a month ago while cleaning out unused things. It was a masterpiece and I developed an ear for music since my childhood listening to music on it as it played the vinyl records.

That’s so sad but things like this do happen. How would the caretaker know the value of these priceless antiques that have so much of memories stored in them? Anyway, don’t lose heart. I will take you to a place in our beautiful city where many a times such antiques land up from all over, some sold to kabadiwalas and in many cases stolen from the homes of people who own them. There is a huge market here and often you can pick up genuine antiques in the midst of look-alikes and fakes.

Let us go there now, Sir. Maybe my grappa’s gramophone has come here and is yet to find a buyer.

Ok, let us go to Chor Bazaar today.

We boarded a Kali-peeli taxi from Churchgate to Mohammad Ali Road and shared some trivia with Vicky on the way which was no more than 4.5 km but took us over an hour and half to reach.

Vicky, did you know, there are two versions of how the place got a name? The bazaar in the congested area of the city was always so full of people trying to buy and sell used and second-hand things that there was always a noise around and the locals called it ‘Shor Bazaar’ or Noisy Bazaar. The English on the other hand could not pronounce the word Shor and they started calling it Chor and then the locals, too, started following the white masters. The second version is that when a Governor General of India was coming to India, many of his wife’s belongings including a prized violin went missing whilst getting unloaded from the ship. All of these were traced by the police to have been put up for sale in this market and hence the name Chor Bazaar.

We, finally, managed to reach Bhendi Bazar and started walking around streets with strange names, the likes of which you will never find elsewhere…. Mutton Street and Butcher Street. We were slightly disappointed when we saw a large number of multi-storied buildings undergoing complete make-over which was taking away the old-world charm of this place with its old houses, no more than a couple of floors, and architecture that was a mixture of Gothic and Saracenic.

In some time, we found ourselves near a couple of shops exhibiting movie posters. We walked into one of them and were told not to take any pictures as some of their exhibits were originals. We saw a huge poster of Amitabh Bachchan and Jaya Bhaduri in Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s film Mili and the proud man there told us that this original piece would cost us rupees three lakhs… possibly in 1975, it would have costed the producers the same amount to make the complete movie! We also got to see some copies which too were priced at over ten thousand each so we just admired the collection and beat a retreat saying, we will be back soon.

We saw many shops selling old artefacts, books and furniture but there was a full lane devoted to automobiles. Heaps of spares of automobile body, tyres, lights, horns, batteries and engines were on display here. We also saw a few young men dismantling cars and they did it in such a hurry that in no time, every nut and bolt including the number plate was removed and nothing was left of the original vehicle. We understood why speed was of such essence in this trade…. any delay may lead to cops confiscating the vehicle and arresting the street artists. Nicolas Cage’s movie Gone in Sixty Seconds could have been easily shot here or the Formula One pit stop teams could hire these boys at no cost and yet do the tyre changes manually during the races with speed better than the trained crew.

We finally found the shop that Vicky was so desperately looking for… one which had old cameras and gramophones of all makes and models. Vicky was able to locate the same make and model that his grappa had left behind but sadly, it wasn’t the original piece for it did not have the old man’s name etched on the base. The shopkeeper told Vicky that he will do it for him free of charge and that the set was fully functional. He would drop five old vinyl records additionally to sweeten the deal but Vicky seemed confused.

Keep this piece for a week and if I do not come back by then, you may sell it to anyone. I need this time to think if at all I should buy this piece or not.

The shopkeeper readily agreed and handed Vicky his business card. He spoke with a lot of confidence, “You name anything and you will find it here, no matter how old or how special that thing might be…Chor Bazaar will never let you down.”

With a bit of humour and a bit of sarcasm, Vicky asked…Crown Jewels milega kya?

The shopkeeper said…haan milega…it is somewhere around for sure.

We laughed and, as we were walking towards the exit, we came across Taj Ice Cream. 

This is an iconic eatery that has been making ice cream since 1887 and has enthralled movie stars like Johnny Walker, Waheeda Rehman and Madhubala. We walked in and asked for their special alphonso mango ice cream and started reading about the history of this place and were amazed to find out that they still make ice creams in wooden barrels and hand churned, the way they made it 125 years ago. The fruit mixed with cream is then poured into a copper canister which makes their recipes legendary and unique. The sixth generation of ice cream makers are at work now and no prizes for guessing their surname…Icecreamwala!

We enjoyed every lick of the ice cream and then Vicky said… Sir, Taj means the crown. Now that we have found the crown here, can the jewels be far away?

Vicky, don’t worry. I know where to find the most precious crown jewel of all…the Kohinoor. You can see Kohinoor in some time, just do not ask me any questions how, when and where.

Ok, Sir, you got me excited and I shall follow my leader to Land’s End.

We took another Kaali-peeli and took a turn to the left from the imposing RBI Building at Ballard Estate, Fort, and got dropped opposite an old, dilapidated building with a number of people hanging outside. The old rusty board read, Britannia and Co, Exotic Parsi Iranian Restaurant. All boards displayed ‘Cash Only’. Vicky, the foodie, couldn’t help laughing seeing this iconic eatery but asked, how do you plan to find Kohinoor here, Sir?

He is there inside…come with me and I will show you. As we entered the eatery, we found a dog sleeping on one side of the cash counter and a cat on the other. An old man sat behind the desk and welcomed us as we took our seats. We found ourselves at a point where I felt that every person passing was trying to take a picture of us and so I would smile at them. Vicky shattered my dreams and told me that people were actually taking picture of the interesting rules of the restaurant that was hanging on the wall next to us…. No Talking, No Combing Hair, No Leg on Chair….

I asked the man serving…Boman Kohinoor Saab kahan hain?

He said, “Saab passed away in 2019. You have not been here for long or else you would have known about it.”

I explained to Vicky, “Boman Rashid Kohinoor started Britannia in 1923. He called himself India’s biggest fan of the Royal family of UK. He even met Prince William and Kate Middleton when they visited India in 2016 and I have seen their cardboard cut-outs kept in this restaurant when I had last visited. Boman would walk around and make sure he would meet each and every customer who came to the restaurant and take a feedback about the food and also recounted about the traditional recipes served here.

Vivky smiled and said, “So now Boman Saab is entertaining Queen Elizabeth up there in the clouds…how fascinating indeed!"

Not Boman Saab…Kohinoor, the Crown Jewel, himself.

We ordered the traditional Pallonji’s Raspberry soda and followed it up with the lazeez Mutton Salli Boti (small mutton balls with crispy potato slices finely cut) with chapati and then there was no way we would miss the Berry Good Chicken Berry Pulao. This pulao is really very special for it is full of barberries that are imported from Iran to retain their authenticity. The place proudly adorns the flags of Iran and India, the place of origin of the ancestors and the residency of the present owners. We rounded off this fine food with the special caramel custard which is not too sweet or eggy and tastes just right. Both of us burped as we cleaned up the desert and understood the signal from within which shouted…bas kar…no more please.

No matter how much we explore this city, it never fails to amaze us. The more we see, the more we fall in love and the more we want to see of Bom Bahai. Hasta Manana till we meet again.

Vicky & SS

To Sir, With Love

                                     

The two-member high-powered interview board were having a heated argument while a candidate named Dasu waited outside.

Just look at his credentials…by the time he was sixteen he on his way to join the Christian Brotherhood. Coming from a well to do and learned family with a mother teaching in a reputed school and father, a decorated officer in the Indian Army, when the world of opportunities lay before him, he chose an austere life of simplicity, selfless-service and a desire to change the lives of innumerable boys and girls. Revered and loved by all and a spotless life of seventy-four should have given him a straight entry into the Pearly Gates. He belonged there and there alone and there was no need for this interview which was meant to separate the wheat from the chaff.

Lt.Gen D'Souza, The Father with Sam Manekshaw

Mrs. N. D'Souza, The Mother

Peter, you’re a selfish bugger. You already have the best of people with you. Don’t you think we need some good people?

Dear Cerberus, if people like Dasu are sent to Hell, everyone will lose faith in goodness and humanity and Earth, which is already over populated with evil forces and will make the place completely unlivable and a totally dark planet.

Dear Peter, while I understand your apprehensions but my problem is that the place I guard here is getting over populated. We need someone who can possibly work with some of the people here, make a change and get an opportunity to cross over into your land which is completely underpopulated and can accommodate many more people.

Cerberus…Cerberus…what you ask for is outright blasphemy and unacceptable. Just see what some of his students of the first class he taught at St. Columba’s School, Delhi have to say about him on his passing on 13^th of Oct 2024…

“Brother D’Souza’s passing really hurts and breaks our hearts- he made us, the boys of 10-C, men (nearly) during the 1979 school year. As my mind rewinds, the distant memories come back to me slowly like gentle waves hitting the shores of a lake.

Not a 100% sure but I think the first words he said to us on that cold March morning on our 1^st day of 10-C (all of us were excited and making a lot of noise after rejoining school in a new class)- Will you guys shut up!

He brought about a paradigm shift on the way he taught us- so refreshing and so much fun.

His singing to us with the guitar, math classes on Saturdays- we used to look forward to that (what a change after John and Innis) and how he gave us all assignments during the summer holidays and made us post them to him every week in Shillong.

What a Man- I must be forgetting so many other good memories and things we did with him.

A true Gentleman and arguably the best Teacher St. Columba’s has had. I’m sure he’ll find a bunch of guys in Heaven and teach them good things in his unconventional style- all of us will cheer him from here.

God Speed and R.I.P. Brother.”

Look Peter…that’s what I need… someone who can teach my folks differently and make them better. So far they’ve been exposed to people of the worst kind who drag them further down the ladder of humanity and ensure that they will never find any redemption.

Cerberus Dear, please do not disturb me. See one more of the posts…

"While he was suffering that last few years and possibly this was deliverance for him, the fact is, he leaves us with countless, amazing memories that will always stay with us. People like him leave a mark on those they touch in an indelible way. And what is a great life but one that touches the lives of others deeply? He lived a selfless life that transformed the life of so many young men. God bless his soul and may he rest in eternal peace.”

See Peter, what I was telling you…Dasu will help transform the lives of people in my Underworld so that they may have a chance to move up and live a better afterlife. 

Sha..sha.. Cerberus. Just listen to some more of the posts and tell me if it will be right on my part to move him into the dark world. How will I look into the eyes of my Lord after doing such injustice to this holy soul?

“Assignments in the summer holidays!! He took classes through the summer holidays. Thank God and him for that. With his teaching, I did brilliantly with…70+ in math. I remember his remark to the class during the summer tuitions. If you don’t know something after a class has finished, say so. I will thrash you but explain it again. But if you tell me three days later that you didn’t know, I’ll thrash you even more, because I will have to learn the lesson all over again to teach you. More than the math, this changed my life. I figured everyone isn’t a Srini, sorry mate no offence, who understands everything at first shot. One has to work at understanding…It gave me so much confidence for dealing with life. F**k, he was just too good…God Bless him.”

That's it Peter, Dasu knows how to thrash unruly people. He fits the bill to the dot. I am told he has a cane named Charlie that he wields like a sabre and puts sense into the heads of people. No teacher will survive even a single day in the Underworld unless he is able to thrash and get the rogues to toe the line…remember what you’ve always preached…spare the rod and spoil the child.

No way Cerberus! Listen to another of this student…

“I am deeply saddened by the passing of Bother Eric D’Souza. It is difficult to express my gratitude for him in words. He was a remarkable educator and a selfless person, whose passion for teaching and ability to make learning enjoyable and touched the lives of many, including mine. His contributions to education and personal growth will be cherished by all who had the privilege to learn from him. Brother D’Souza’s legacy will live in our hearts. He will be remembered for making school enjoyable and inspiring countless students. Rest in Peace, Brother D’Souza.”

Before you speak again…here’s one that will convince you- where Dasu truly belongs.

“Brother Eric Steve D’Souza- Fratress Christiani. Unknown hero who launched India’s powerful emergence as an IT superpower. In 1980, he wrote the first syllabus for O-level Computer Education and installed a bank of PCs in the school basement. That single act precipitated a boom as every school and educational institution in the country scrambled to catch up.

He came into class, a diminutive man with the most riveting eyes, a constant, almost sardonic smile as he laughed at life and its idiosyncrasies. The son of a decorated General in the Indian Army, he chose the Holy calling to become a monk, a teacher. He was at once the best footballer on the field, the sharpest mind in Mathematics and English and amazingly good with the guitar- in the middle of the most difficult classes he’d strum and sing his signature “Bouna Sera Senorita...”, with gleeful look. He’d stride across class in three steps, cassock billowing behind him. He equally loved the brainiacs and the back-benchers, seeing in each one of us what we could not see ourselves. He had no doubts about the Divine. But it did not prevent him from dealing with atheism and homosexuality in Shakespeare’s works. As a monk, he guided us through the most difficult teenage years of our lives, dealing with the most tabooed subjects imaginable. He took us from being a rag-tag bunch of almost certain failures to the best that each of us could be. I last saw him twenty or more years ago. in a remote corner of India, running a school for marginalized young people. More than anybody else, he taught us that money and fame mean absolutely nothing.

The only true wealth is who you are. In prayerful gratitude to my hero, my mentor, my guide. God be with you.”

See Peter…he is the fittest person according to me…he can teach beyond catechism and holy texts to subjects difficult and often tabooed by your folks. He can change the lives of ‘rag-tag’ and make my people see what they cannot see in themselves. I have already built a Reformatory School where he can join as the Headmaster and start his classes with immediate effect.

Let us call him in and ask his wish. Normally we decide, for our decisions are unanimous but since we are unable to arrive at one, Brother Eric…come in please…

A slim man in casual clothes walked in and took the seat across St. Peter and Cerberus.

St. Peter spoke…Brother D’Souza, you have an impeccable record fit for being cannonised but here Cerberus, the Gatekeeper of the Underworld wants to take you to run a reforming school for his people. There is much merit in his request, but I am worried about how the people down below, who are yet to come for their admissions to Heaven will interpret such a decision.

I have been a teacher all my life and teaching is what I do best and love most. The place and the building never mattered to me. Happy to go to the Reformatory School even if it lies in the darkest place in the Universe. Give me my children and give me my books and of course I already have Charlie with me.

Cerberus smiled and said…You’re truly a blessed soul. I am requesting St. Peter to give you the multiple entry visa for Heaven and asking you to visit my world temporarily and make it a better place for all.

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To me, Brother D’Souza was

The man who threw me out of the class,
But let me enter his heart forever.
The man who once called me a donkey,
But made the man I am out of  wet clay.
And to quote from the one book he taught us that we will never ever forget…Julius Caesar
“His life was gentle, and the elements
So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up
And say to the World, This Was a Man."

Dearest Teacher, Mentor, Guide and Friend

Rest Eternally in Peace.

SS