V
V.Balasubramani
Guest
It happens only in India
Forty years after returning as a Peace Corps volunteer to a village in Tamil Nadu, the writer finds religions in harmony, borrowing customs and cultural norms from one another
LAVISH DISPLAY: “For a village of 2,500 people, the annual church festival in Thanjavur was an awesome display
The hotel manager was politely incredulous. Wouldn’t I like a car or an auto rickshaw to take me on a tour of Thanjavur’s rural areas? No, thank you. As a Peace Corps volunteer, albeit returning after 40 years, I was determined to get to my village in the traditional way — by bicycle. And in my village garb: a brightly coloured lungi.
A few minutes later, I took off on the best bike the hotel could find, a rickety Raleigh that might have dated from my Peace Corps days.
The old path through the rice paddies was now a motorable road, but with only the occasional motorcycle or tractor to disturb my peaceful ride into years past.
Reality soon intervened. About the time the bike pedal fell off, a light rain began to fall. I was four miles short of Sholapuram, my destination, and the only shelter nearby was a Catholic church in the middle of the fields.
Walking my bike through the gate, I met some young men painting what looked like decorated ox carts in the churchyard.
In my halting Tamil, I explained my dilemma. In their equally minimal English, they told me the church was “Our Lady of Refuge,” and promised me a ride back to the hotel on a motorbike. I could come back to pick up my bicycle tomorrow, they assured me. But, when I returned, they said, I should also visit Father Johnson, the village priest, who had recently returned from the U.S.
Read more at: It happens only in India - The Hindu
