June 2006

My early growing years, in Mangalore.

South Kanara, (Dakshina Kannada) 

All of us are  products of our experience, and our past influences our present.   Many of the incidents in my life will be reflected in the lives of many others, who will see it mirroring their own lives.   It would be a good idea, that they too record their memories for the benefit of their children.

Hampankatta, in 1934

Hampankatta, the commercial centre of Mangalore , is not far from the sea on its west. I was born to Stella Mary and John Pais, in 1934 on the upper floor of the Catholic Bank building, which also housed its first Secretary, my maternal grandfather, Mr. John Manuel Castelino. The Milagres Church, built some 450 years ago, was situated just a few meters away from the Bank.

My maternal grandfather retired as the head master of Milagres School after serving it for fifty years. Many leading people of Mangalore studied under him during his time. He was well respected by his peers for his intellectual abilities, and was instrumental in founding the first bank in Mangalore that was run by Catholics, the Catholic Bank. He also helped in founding other institutions like the Catholic Club and the Catholic Provident Fund Bank. The Catholic Bank merged with the Syndicate Bank in the 1950s

My paternal grandfather Joseph Pais (Juze Pais) was a well-known coffee planter in his day.. He married Regina Saldana, on his 20th birthday, on 18th May 1880. He built his coffee plantations from scratch, with his close friend Saturnine Mathias, his distant cousin. They walked fifty to sixty miles, hitch-hiking along the way -  (in those days there were only bullock carts),  plucking and eating tender coconuts from wayside coconut trees, and living on beaten rice.   During his time, he was one of the wealthy men in Mangalore, and was a  generous benefactor of many Catholic institutions, like schools, churches, and hospitals.   On the inside surface of the outer wall of the left verandah of Milagres Church, there is a marble slab of benefactors, who contributed to build the new church. The first name is of our grandfather, Joseph Pais. The church is dedicated to Our Lady of Miracles. Miracles or Milagres is pronounced as Milar, in Portuguese. He was also the first benefactor of the Kankanady Fr. Muller's Hospital .

Juze Pais, built a house in Balmatta, which was his home and all his children were born there and lived there until 1934, when it was auctioned as a result of a family tragedy and insolvency.  It was purchased by my father's cousin, who in turn sold it in 1945.   This latter owner sold it to the Nazareth Convent, which now houses their premises in the family compound.   The main room ('sal') of the old house  is retained as the Chapel, and all the rest have been demolished and rebuilt as a modern structure.    This was the house where my father was born and grew and got married, and it all ended in the year I was born, in 1934.    All the grand children who have become priests, have said Mass in this Chapel.

My maternal grandfather moved to a house on the Coelho lane after his retirement.  This area is known as Falneer. It was a beautiful house with gothic style windows and glazed floor tiles . There was a shower in the bathroom, and we used to be taken often there in summer when there was no water in our well in Jeppu. On the right side of the house was a lane, which led, through a steep rising steps, to a road that met the Silva road. A fascinating stream flowing under a small bridge greeted us at the entrance of this lane. We could see fish swimming in it in the clear running water. I used to often stand on the bridge on my way to the school, and watch the wriggling fish with great admiration

Everic’s escapades - early 1930s

I have three brothers and three sisters, and two of my siblings have embraced the religious life.  The eldest sister, has joined the Sisters of Charity and is now 83 years old.    The other is my brother Everic, who  is a Jesuit missionary in Nagaland.

Everic was mischievous as a child and very stubborn too. He told us many a story of his childhood. Once, when he was small ,our uncle  would call him to his room, and challenge him to drink a little whiskey and on doing so he would reward him with a silver rupee coin. He would lose it in the compound while playing his childhood games but the servant watching him would find it and give it to my mother. Thus my mother collected quite a few these silver coins. One day she asked him how he got them. She was surprised at his answer. She told him not to do it. She asked him, “Evy, tell me like whom do you want to be when you grow up, like your Uncle or like your Daddy?” The answer was, “Like my Daddy” Thus when the next day came he refused to drink, and when the Uncle asked him why, he gave his answer: “I want to be like my father” - and then ensued a raucous and noisy fight!

Another story he told me was how he used to go to school. Mother used to send Joseph and Everic (they were called Jossie and Evy) to the Milagres School, from Balmatta accompanied by a servant. It was a half-hour’s walk. Mother told them to walk on the side of the road. So, my brother Evy goes slowly walking on the stone edge of the pavement, and when a compound gate comes, it used to curve inwards and he would walk along it, and thus delay the servant. When the servant used to ask him to walk straight, he would retort: “Must I obey you, or my mother?” This young boy was so stubborn, that one day, when it was a holiday, he spent the day at my mother’s house in Milagres. Early in the morning Evy was all dressed up to go to school. My grandfather, who was the head master of that school, told him, to remove his clothes and wear home clothes. The young grandson insisted that there was school, and the grand father did like wise arguing that it was a holiday. Finally, he had to use his cane, to din some sense into the small but fertile head of my brother!

My escapades in Mangalore 

I have been told of my escapades during the first two years of my life. As soon as I had learnt to crawl, I showed a great liking for sandals. Sometimes I crawled or may be walked to the entrance of the Bank, where people left their slippers. One day, a client came complaining to my grandfather, asking him if there was a dog in the bank, as he had lost his sandals. My grandfather told him: “Yes, we have a two legged dog.” and called the peon and asked him to go up and check me. To his surprise, I was playing with that sandal.

India’s place in the Second World War 

India faced shortages of food and materials during this time. Many of our young men joined the Indian Royal Navy and the Army.

Around 1938, my father might have moved to Puttur, which is in the southwest of the district. He rented a two-storied house, with some fields in the front, along the main Mangalore -Puttur road. On the other side of the road, high up on a hill amidst trees and shrubbery with a flower garden, was the school, where I was admitted to my first class, during the rainy season, in June 1939. . During our stay in Puttur some of the highlights in my life were:

· There was a boy in my class who used to come with a soiled “Gandhi” cap, and I told him to ask his mother to wash it. The next day, I reminded him, when I noticed the cap was not washed. On the third day, it was still dirty, so I took it from his head and threw it out of the window, and the boy began to cry. My teacher complained about this to my mother, and my teacher and my mother reprimanded me. I loved this teacher, because she was fair and pretty.

· Buses used to ply between Mangalore and Puttur, and I was told a certain bus goes to Mangalore. I knew my grandfather was in Mangalore. I used to stand on the side of the road with a stick, and tell the driver to stop and take me to my ‘Abu’s'’ house in Mangalore. No wonder he did not understand what was on my mind. So one day, I stood in front of the on-coming bus, which had just started, and raised my stick and shouted at the driver to take me to my ‘Abu’s’ house. I was persistent, even after he stopped the bus, and begged me to move away. The Muslim women of the neighborhood, started shouting and my mother sent Evy down who picked me up in his arms and whisked me away. At home, they frightened me so much, that from that day; I had no guts to do such “adventurous” escapades.

· My brother Kenny was frail and small, and my mother used to give him a bath, by placing him in a small brass basin with water. I had seen how she used to bathe him, so one day I decided to give him a bath as well. He suffocated as I poured the water on his head, and in the nick of time, my mother saw it and came to rescue Kenny, yelling at me, and dumbfounding me in the bargain.

· It was Christmas time, and mother was scraping coconuts to prepare sweets for the Christmas season. She must have scraped quite a few coconuts, because the scrapings were a heap-full. I asked her for some scraped coconut, and she told me to have patience and wait till the sweets were ready. The next thing she knew was when I dumped a handful of mud in her coconut. 60 years have not changed my impulsive nature. I was a thoughtless stupid boy!

· I remember that on the upper floor of our house, there used to be a swing hanging from the ceiling The seat was broad and made out of wood. There were wooden stairs to go up and down. Once I took Kenny upstairs to show him the fields through the wide glass paned windows. The place was brightly lit with the sunshine pouring in through them with fresh breeze wafting through the cross-ventilated windows. While coming down, he tumbled down, and luckily nothing happened to him.

· My father had a B. S. A. bicycle with angular mudguards in a V shape, which he used to tie to the window. I was in the habit of stepping on the pedal and jumping on it. One day when I was about two or three years old, I jumped as usual and the break handle of the cycle injured my forehead and I had a gash. To my bad luck, he had forgotten to tie the cycle that day. In those days, the medicine was “Iodex". The injury left a permanent scar on my forehead.

· I remember the Christmas of 1939, when my eldest sister Lena came from Mangalore to spend the holidays with us. She made a crib for us. She draped mother’s blue sari for the background. Tinted the newspapers with ash, and made rocks out of them. With the help of the enema can and a basin she made a stream, with flowing water. She studded the blue sari, which she used for the sky, with silver stars, which she cut out of cigar foils. My father used to smoke small cigars. He drank very occasionally, at meals during feasts.

I also remember how it felt when he took me double ride on his bicycle. I was always told to mind my fingers so that they did not jam in the break levers. It was a pleasant experience to see the stones on the road running backwards as the cycle sped forward. My recollection of my father’s features is very weak.

Jeppu House – 1940-1945 

Early in 1940, my family decided to move to Mangalore, as it was becoming difficult for the children to be moved from one school to another. We took up rented accommodation in Jeppu . The house rent was six rupees from 1940 to 1945.

The large compound with its mango and cashew trees gave us children ample space to play. The common well served the requirement of our house as well as that of our neighbors. On one side, Mr. Thomas D’Souza and his wife Mary lived, and on the other side was Mr. Boniface Sequeira, a singer in the Church who used to practice vocal music every day.  He had lovely daughters of my age.  One of them is a nun in Italy.

The Seminary Church of St. Joseph 

Minna,  my sister, a deeply  devout girl,  used to take me to the Jeppu Seminary church for Mass from the time we moved into the Jeppu house in 1940. She guided me through the important parts of the Mass. Even though she was just four years older than I was. I learnt a lot from her. She used to tell me to lift my feet and put them down carefully while walking in the dark, on the hard and stony pathway leading to the church when going for the early morning mass. Even at my present age, I find it useful, not to trip and fall, as now my eyesight is weak, and I can not see the pits on the road. I got my religious foundation during this time. The Seminary church was very beautiful and had a deeply spiritual ambience. During the times of Benediction and Adoration days, the brightly  lit Sanctuary with its tall glowing candles made a deep impression on me.

The Jeppu Brass Band - 

There used to be a brass band directed by the Italian Jesuit fathers who were in charge of the Seminary. The Band conductor was Fr. Belleri, an old, short and venerable father with a flowing white beard who exuded great holiness.   He used to go for his walks and often pass in front of our house. He always kept small sweets in his pocket, which he used to distribute to the children during his walks, and we were fond of running after him to get the prized sweets. He conducted the band wearing his round rimmed spectacles.  This brass band, was a full-fledged ensemble of Italian instruments. The musicians played from written music score. They played all classical marches and religious musical compositions. It was the treat I used to long for in those early days of my life. My love for music must have been awakened at that time. Christmas Night, and the annual Diocesan Adoration procession, were the highlights of the band. They also used to be called for the funerals of the rich, and one of Handel’s funeral marches was indeed somber and beautiful.

The Seminary Choir 

Then there was the Seminary choir, conducted by a young Italian priest, Fr. Jerome Pasi, who died in Italy in the nineties. The repertoire was beautiful, and it was a pleasure to listen to the singing of this choir. The Organist was an elderly priest, Fr. Ranzani. This was the other element in fostering my early love for music. Later on in the fifties, I would also play for this Choir on the Seminary’s Mason and Hamlin American pedal Harmonium. 

There were beautiful Harmoniums in other churches as well. I was fortunate to get a chance to play on the Cathedral, Milagres Church and Apostolic Carmel harmoniums, in the eighties, when the type of church music had changed, and these masterpieces were relegated to some dusty corner, where no one knew how to play them. A sad commentary on our society which forgets its history as easily as the fire fly which hovers around a light and fades away into the dark night. It was mostly this type of music that flooded my ears up till the age of 25. It is because of this that I have not been enamored by the pop music that came up during my growing up years, as there was a day and night difference between this music and the music I fell in love with, in the earlier period of my life. Tastes are very subjective, and can not be reasoned out. Ever since my childhood, I have had a great fascination for the older Church music, and a nostalgic memory of the past, drives me to preserve it, and that is why I would attempt in the nineties to form St. Cecilia’s polyphonic choir with a band of 12 singers.

Altar Server -

I became an altar server, together with my older brothers Jossie and Evy, for the first time, in this Seminary Church. Once when I was 8 years old, we went out for a picnic, to the seashore. Fr. Pasi, a scholastic, accompanied us at that time. It was during this picnic I heard for the first time, his vibrant tenor, singing “Santa Lucia” that later on became my favorite song.

Mr. Francis de Gama - 

Mr. De Gama was a sculptor, a painter, and a statue maker, molding statues out of clay with his bare hands. His life-size statues adorn the surroundings of St. Joseph’s Seminary. Br. Moscheni, a Jesuit lay brother, during the latter part of the nineteenth century, painted the beautiful frescos in St. Joseph’s Seminary Church and in St. Aloysius College chapel. He taught De Gama the art when he was a very young boy. Brother Moscheni was one among the first Italian missionaries who come to Mangalore . Mr. De Gama volunteered to teach me drawing and painting. He took a fancy to me, and for a time I took interest and learnt. As usual, I gave up out of sheer laziness. One day he met me, and told me not to give up, but to practice whenever I was inclined to do it. He was an old man, and a genius, but extremely simple and an unassuming person.

Christmas Cribs 

The Italian Jesuit brothers of St. Joseph’s Seminary used to prepare beautiful cribs, and a corner of the church was devoted to it. They used special electric effects, to vary the brightness of the light, and lit the tiny miniature houses in the crib, with tiny electric bulbs. It was a splendid piece of work. The statues had been imported from Italy, as during the British times, there were no import restrictions. Every house made their own cribs, and children would vie among themselves to excel in the craftsmanship.

The Milagres School - 1940-1948 March. 

I had passed the first class, in the Puttur School successfully and used to come first in every exam. Therefore, my head was in the air, when my sister Lena, took me to the Milagres School for admission. My mother wanted to admit me to the second class but I flunked the test. When the teacher asked me questions, I kept mum. The teacher recommended to my sister that I, having come from a village school, be admitted to the first class. Everything was fine till we reached home, and gave this piece of information to my mother. She was puzzled and filled with disbelief, and asked me why I did not answer the questions. My answer was: “What does the teacher think, that I am? Why has she to ask me when I know everything? Does she not know the answers.” There went a year of my studies down the drain. Again I came first in all the exams in my first class in the Milagres School, which was on the other side of the main road that goes to Hampankatta, adjacent to the Milagres Church.

We used to go down the Silva Road, and turn right on to Coelho Lane, and again right on to the Marjil Road and take the Kankanady - Hampankatta road, to go to the School. All roads in Mangalore were asphalted only after we got Independence.. Near the junction of Marjil road and Kankanady-Hampankatta road was the Marjil School, where my sister, Minna studied

First School experiences - 

My first class teacher was Rosalie who got married. Our second class teacher taught us a song for the farewell function. I wondered why we sang “Good boy teacher", when she was a girl. I asked Kiran, for an answer. He laughed at me and said, “It is good-bye, which means God be with you”. Our second class teacher was a pretty girl, who used to stay close to the school, but she got sick that year, I think of tuberculosis, and died that year. From 1939 onwards, the second World War was going on, but all we knew of the war was from the magazine “War-In-Pictures”, which our principal, Fr. Francis Pinto, used to give me as a prize for coming first in the monthly exam. The only effect of the war, was scarcity of good rice. Once we had stinking rice, which we had to eat, with pinched noses. There used to be time, when there was nothing to eat. The older ones in the house would lay the table, and we would all sit and sing songs, till we the younger ones went to sleep, and forgot about the meals.

The lost album - 

Kiran was my best friend in the elementary school. One day I borrowed an album from him. He had pasted the labels of different matchboxes in various designs and colors on a nicely bound photograph album. It was really very temptingly beautiful. During recess, I left the album in the desk, but after coming back, found the album was stolen. When I told Kiran about this, (we were in the 2nd class), he told me to bring a candle, and suggested that we light it in front of St. Anthony’s statue in the church the next day, and pray. So, I stole a “Dedki” from my mother’s purse, bought a candle and we both prayed to St. Anthony, with the lighted candle in front of his statue. When we went back, we did not find the album. It was then that Kiran said, “It is o.k. St. Anthony does not want to give the album back.” This Kiran became the captain of St. Aloysius College cricket team, and later joined the merchant Navy, started his own shipping business, and died in the nineties doing a lot of philanthropic work. I did not have much contact with him in the later years.

Milagres School was only up to eighth class, and in those days, the schools were divided into Elementary, Middle, and High School. The elementary classes were from 1st to 5th. The Middle School was from I to III Form. The High School was from IV to VI Form. Thus in the summer of 1945 I completed my fifth class. I remember in a special way, two brothers of the Olivet congregation, who taught us. One was Br. Bonaventure, who was an older person, and the younger one was a Brother, whose name I have forgotten, but he had a pronunciation problem. For “R” he would pronounce “Ga". It was he who taught us the hymn “Sweet Heart of Jesus, Fount of Love and Mercy” which became my favorite hymn.

School Picnics 

Mr. Vaman Naik was our scoutmaster, who took us on a marching expedition to a place called Gurpur. It was nine miles away. We had to mark the road with arrows and signs for those who were coming behind us. We had to fetch firewood, to cook our meals, and by the time we finished we were dead tired. In the evening he told us to march to the bus station, and told us, “Start marching back to Mangalore” and we begged him to take us by bus. Of course he was just bluffing us. He was a nice old man, perhaps an ex military or police man.

The night before the picnic, those of us who stayed far, spent the night in the school. The boys would roam the streets in the night, buy beedies, which are made of dried tendu leaves and tobacco powder. It was a memorable experience.

We had a Kannada lesson, on bees. And one sentence told how the bees made their noise. It sounded like “gooin-gooin” so the old boys started a style of greeting each other by saying “gooin’ ba” and turning the right hand index finger a half turn. Everyone did it.

Escapades in the house - 

From 1940 to 1945 we lived in the Jeppu house. I remember how we used to make Kenny climb the mango and cashew trees, to pluck the fruit. There was plenty of free fruit. It makes my blood boil, when we have to pay exorbitant prices for them these days. Once during this time, Rinny, (my cousin( Kenny, and myself decided to make liquor out of cashews. We had heard that they used them for that purpose, but did not know how to go about it. So we crushed the juice of about 30 cashews, put salt in it, bottled the juice and waited. After some time, we drank it, thinking it was liquor.

Christmas Time in 1944 - “And who knows when…”

Close to our house in Jeppu, lived my mother's cousin Mary, whose husband had  purchased our Bandara estate. They had children of the age group of my brothers, Jossy, and Evy. Ada and Ita, who went on to become teachers, were the older girls in the family. They migrated to United States in the late forties or early fifties. Their brother Desmond, who now lives in the UK,, taught us the songs, don’t Fence Me In, Somewhere Over the Rainbow and With Someone like You. They were fond of music, and had His Masters Voice gramophone. In 1944, on Christmas Eve, they came singing carols to our house. Our house was the first one on their plan, and as a parting, they sang a song that had these words: “And who knows, when we’ll be altogether again, we’re here, we’re here". From our house they went to Aunt Alice’s house, sang the songs, and ended up with this parting song. Finally, before returning to their home, that was next to our grand father’s recently, rented house, after he moved out of his Falneer house, they greeted him with the very same songs. This was the last year they sang this song, because in 1945 there was one death in all the three families they visited. First on sixth June 1945 my father died. On 13 August 1945 Panny the son of Aunt Alice died and on 26 September 1945 my grandfather, John Manuel Castelino passed away.

The Last birthday of our father - 1945

Our father was born on 14 May 1890. Kenny too was born on that same date, in 1937. In 1945 he was 8 years old and I was 10 ½ years old. We decided to stage a skit in his honor. We put up some bed sheets, and placed a hanging kerosene lamp, with a glass base and a glass shade on the sidewall and by adjusting the wick, made the light dim. We used to use them as table lamps. Then Kenny, took a lamb (the young one of our goat) and holding it in his arms, sang a song, made up by him, based on the tune of a film song of those times. My father and mother were guests of honor. Wonder what went in our father’s mind that day.

Death of my father: 1945 The Accident -

In the summer of 1945, the Second World War ended. My father also retired from his teaching career in Board High Schools. He was a Maths and English teacher. He must have been very worried, as only my eldest sister Lena was settled, as she had joined the convent of Sisters of Charity in 1944. My brothers Jossie and Evy were 21 and 19. Jossie had started work in the Catholic Bank, but Evy was still doing his second year of College studies, Minna had finished her III Form, and was going to St. Agnes High School. You will be surprised that in those days, my father’s salary was 35 rupees, and my mother used to manage the whole household with it. It appears that my father went to visit a priest in Mulki, a place close to Mangalore, perhaps with a hope of securing a new job in the parish school. I do not know, whether it was on his way to the priest’s place or on his way back, he rode his cycle in the dark. He always used to travel from place to place on his bicycle even in case of long distances. It was a village road, and a furrow was made in the road to allow rainwater to flow. My father must have tripped in this gutter, and fell. He got hurt in the head and was bleeding. A bullock cart owner, passing by did the Good Samaritan work for him, and took him to the nearest Catholic Bank, since my father might have told him to do. The manager of the Catholic Bank in Mangalore at that time was Conrad Pais, the son of his sister, Lucy. The secretary in the village branch sent word to my cousin, who came and told my mother, with a cooked up story, after planning it with my brothers. They told her, that the Catholic Bank had organized a picnic, Jossie had to go for it, and Evy also was invited. Between themselves they decided to take different routes to track our father. The idea was to meet my father, on either of the two routes, which was connected to Mangalore. Before they could go, we saw our father coming through the gate, of our Jeppu house, with a bandage on his head. We were very happy that he was back. My father went every day to the Kankanady hospital to change the dressing, and the wound healed. But he was very depressed. He would sit all alone in a dark corner, pondering. He was just 55 years old that year.

Evy had a sobering experience when he landed in Mulki, and managed to visit the Parish Priest. He kept him waiting, without offering him any breakfast or a drink. This was the high handed attitude of some of these priests in those days, but now a greater sensitivity is encouraged. However, each one’s character differs, so one can not expect the holiness, one takes for granted in Jesus. 

My father secures a new job –

In the meantime, my cousin, Fr. Frederick Pais , also a son of his sister, Lucy, who was a headmaster of a school in Mangalore arranged to appoint my father as the head master of the parish school, in a parish called Bijai. My father was going to the school, to take up his job.

Once during the May holidays of that year, my father took me to the Bijai School, to buy exercise books for the next school year. After we purchased our books, he took me to the Old Balmatta house. Mr. Ubaldo Saldana was there. He took me to all the rooms of the house, and showed me where he and his brothers were born. He also took me to the granary, and showed where the coffee used to be stored. In the dining room, he told his cousin Ubaldo, to bring some Alphonso mangos that were ripening at that time, on the trees, his mother had planted. We tasted the sweet and juicy pink mango slices scooping the pulp with a teaspoon and I can still remember the taste today. When he left the place, he said something strange to his cousin, “There is a God above, and he will dispense justice in his own time". Later on I realized, that a young man of 45 was driven from riches to poverty, and faced it for ten years. The feeling of seeing his house must have been very painful to him. From there he took me to another cousin’s house. Her name was Anne, and she was the wife of a lawyer, Louis Pais, who must have been instrumental in the liquidation of our property. He was not there, but my father did not enter the house. The entrance to the Mangalore houses was from either side of the portico. In front of the portico there used to be a covered portion, for horse carriages, from which people alighted and got into the house. You might have seen Uncle Dennis’s house in Sheddigudda. He stood outside the portico, and his cousin the wife of Louis Pais, stood up in the portico and they talked for quite a long time, while I stood by my father’s side, holding his hand. Again in parting he said the same words he told Ubaldo. I could not understand the significance, but when we reached home late, my mother asked me what happened, and told her everything. The paralytic stroke -

Friday, 1st of June 1945 was the re-opening of the school. He went to school. The next day Saturday, while walking back from the school, he was paralyzed and could not move. He was found standing by the side of the road, in the Vas Lane, by three of my cousins, two were sons of his sister, Lucy and the third was Stan Nazareth, his elder sister Mary's son. . They were riding cycles; so they told him that they would keep their cycles in Aunt Lucy’s house that was a 5-minute walking distance from where he was standing. They came back, and held him and took him almost carrying him, which took them half an hour. They sent word to my mother, that he was in Aunt Lucy’s house

We were told by our aunt, that father did not sleep that night, but was sitting on the parapet of the verandah. Early in the morning when they were looking for him, he had gone, and did not inform anyone. Admission into the hospital and his death -

Later on it was found out that he had been able to walk, went to the Kankanady hospital, and admitted himself in the free General Ward. Dr. Lawrence Fernandes, at that time was the Chief Medical Officer of the hospital. On his morning rounds, he saw my father lying on the floor on a mat, with other poor people, in the general ward, unconscious. He was very angry with the staff, as no knew who he was. He ordered them to remove the marble slab from Fr. Frachetti’s Ward, (It was the male paying ward), because the first name on the slab was his father’s name. Immediately, they arranged a room for my father, the one used by a doctor to see patients, and our father was in it for three days and nights (from 3 June to 5 June). One Dr. William Mascarenhas diagnosed that he had a clot in his brain, which in those years was a “death sentence", but later in 1989, his daughter Lena, had the same and was saved both from the clot and paralysis. In the year 2000, October 7, I had the same clot, and it was dissolved, thanks to progress in medical science. Our father died early morning on 6 June 1945. The funeral – 6th June, 1945

Even though I had very little contact with my father, I cried profusely, during his illness, and often used to spend time in the Chapel, praying that he would be saved. But God decided otherwise. On the 6th the body was kept in my Aunt Lucy’s house, and the funeral cortege went from there to the Valencia Church of St. Vincent Ferrer, which was the official parish church, even though we always used to go to St. Joseph’s Church, that belonged to the Seminary.

I remember, my cousin Wilfy, son of my Aunt Lucy, and who lived many years in Abu Dhabi, was a young man then, and tried to distract our attention by telling us too look at a flying horse in the sky. For some time, our mind was distracted.

At the time of my father’s death, we lived in the Jeppu House.