Are you ready for Christmas and New Year ?

Walking past my neighbour’s house, I caught her sunning herself and asked the expected question that everyone asks during Christmas season
‘Are you ready for Christmas?’ And she turned to me with toss of her head, replied disdainfully
‘I prefer to be ready on the inside’. Now, not being a very polite person, I could have said, ‘Oh, oh, you are one of those people who loves sexy, silk lingerie uhmm’ But I did not say this, for I knew what she meant, she felt that we were mere materialistic mortals, not knowing, nor aware of God’s plan for us, wasting time and energy on earthly things such as paper stars and Christmas sweets, but I love paper stars and Christmas sweets; and anyway how does one get ‘ready for Christmas on the inside?’
When Luiza a widow, mother of three who works from morning to night, takes a break to cook a nice lunch of chicken and pulao for her three children and then they all shout and scream over which is the best colour for their paper star, isn’t that a prayer?
When Catarina, who has been working every day with no break, decides that come what may, she has to make some Christmas sweets for her children and spends the entire night with her good pal Rosa, a widow who has no kids of her own but enjoys everyone’s kids, just filling and frying nevreos till they are covered with flour and have blisters all over their hands, isn’t that a prayer?
How you wonder what went on in Caravaggio’s mind when he painted ‘The Incredulity of Saint Thomas’, Christ with an expression of gentility when Saint Thomas literally pokes him in his side and you really want to scream out, ‘Watch out buddy that hurts’, how many long hours must Caravaggio have worked, his mind only on how best to convey The Incredulity of Saint Thomas, not a stroke out of place, not one wrinkle on Saint Thomas’ forehead misplaced, such patience, although Caravaggio was said to be a wild man, could we not consider Caravaggio’s paintings an act of prayer?
And what is Klaus Meine thinking of when he with his ever so beautiful voice, sings his Ave Maria to the poorest of the poor, a shanty of blacks who are so poor, so poor that they do not even have a tiny chapel to pray to the Blessed Virgin and she says ‘You are on the top of the Hill, you are the closest to me, you have the sky studded with a thousand stars covering you like a mantle, why do you need a chapel?. And all the while Klaus Meine pleads and narrates the suffering of the blacks to you, could so much love and passion not be a prayer?
We pray all the time, all the time, just by doing what we do best…..
May we have a thousand prayers in the coming year…..

What do you do when Baby Jesus comes to your neighbourhood much in advance of Christmas?

What do you do when Baby Jesus comes to your neighbourhood much in advance of Christmas?
We welcome her of course, which is what we have done……with open arms.
Some years back Nazareth and Beatriz got married, as everyone, they waited for a baby, which took time in coming because Beatriz was so very ill, trips to the hospital, doctors and endless drugs but Beatriz did not feel any better, besides there was the endless suffering and frustration of not having a baby to hold in her arms. Nazareth was not there to console her when those endless tongues started wagging?
Why did he marry her? Could he not see she was ill, even on her wedding day….. the torture went on and on.
Nazareth so far away trying to earn a nice living for his family.
Oh! what days of loneliness, pain and the endless wait for the baby, but Beatriz decided; no painful treatments, she already had so much medication that she did not want any more drugs, nor she did want to meet any more doctors. Surrogacy? That option was not even considered by Nazareth and Beatriz…..
And then one fine glorious day Caris burst on the scene…….Baby clothes on the clothesline, we peeped out,
What was happening? Was it a relative visiting?
But no, Caris’ grandmother said we have a baby!
What excitement, we rushed over and there was Caris in her little bed, plump cheeks like delicious cupcakes and her hair tiny, tiny curls like a zillion springs, oh the smell of milk and baby powder….we just inhaled it deeply, heaven.
Where have you come from darling? Nobody cares
No longer will Beatriz be the woman who has no children…..she is a mother who has sleepless nights, worries about immunization and lovely clothes for Caris who rests softly in her arms.
And Nazareth, the proud father who has come for Christmas with special permission from his employer, who can resist a Baby? Walking tall and proud with Caris perched, cooing on his shoulder.
We the willing slaves following every look, every move Caris makes. ‘Oh she is clapping, is she?’’ No, no’ says the very proud grandmother, ‘she is shooing away the monkeys’ Ohhh we breathe in
And so we have our very own Baby Jesus, our miracle child…..for who knows in what guise He will come to us….

Amor de Perdição.........Camilo Castelo Branco

Amor de Perdição, written by Camilo Castelo Branco in 1861, follows the pattern of all tragedies, passionate love stories, amazing love stories where lovers have absolutely lost all sense of reality; the lovers surmount dreadful obstacles just to be with their loved ones, to achieve happiness in their complex love. Most of the times, this quest for happiness is extremely frustrating; even when together the lovers endure such suffering that you wonder is it worth it?
Camilo Castelo Branco wrote this love story in the space of a fortnight, when he was in prison, facing charges of adultery. Amor de Perdição a tragedy has all the ingredients that turn it into a perpetual heart-rending story with teachers moaning ‘Ai que lindo’, ‘Ai que lindo’ at suitable moments.
Most tragedies focus on the impossible love of two people; Amor de Perdição is no exception it pursues this well trodden path.
Simão Botelho falls passionately in love with Teresa de Albuquerque, both belong to aristocratic families who live in Viseu but all is not roses for the these two families, in fact, the Albuquerques and the Botelhos, detest each other intensely. Why? It all started when Domingos Botelho, a judge passed a judgement against Tadeu de Albuquerque, after that there was no looking back, they hated each other with vehemence. One day as luck would have it, Teresa de Albuquerque was taking a breath of clean, fresh Viseu air at her window; across the narrow street she sees the strapping figure of Simão Botelho, breathing the very same air, could there have been a bigger sign from above.
Passionate love ensues, such long conversations, back and forth, across the narrow street, but the Viseu wind is treacherous, one fine day someone heard these passionate sweet nothings as the wind carried them. All Hell breaks loose. Domingos Botelho cannot believe his son has fallen for that skinny fifteen year old Albuquerque girl, daughter of his sworn enemy. ‘You could do better than that, you idiot’ he says. Domingos Botelho forgets his aristocracy when he yells with his powerful pair of lungs. ‘Tadeu de Albuquerque KEEP YOUR DAUGHTER LOCKED, IF I CATCH HER TALKING TO MY SON I WILL …I WILL, …..words failed him he could not imagine what he would do.
Tadeu de Albuquerque, was smart, he kept his mouth shut, when all he wanted to do was to wring Simão’s neck. Of course I too would want to wring Simão’s neck, that useless lout did nothing, drank, gambled and caused endless trouble for his family. Tadeu de Albuquerque called for his nephew, Baltasar, who was supposed to marry Teresa. Pssst said Tadeu de Albuquerque, ‘you better get here as fast as you can, Teresa loves the guy across the street’, ‘my inheritance’ thinks the chivalrous Baltasar.
Domingos Botelho dispatches Simão to Coimbra, here Simão transforms himself into a model student, all because of Teresa, who writes reams of letters to him. In the meantime, Baltasar does try to win Teresa back, but Teresa stands straight, looks him in the eye and says ‘I love someone else.’ Poor Baltasar in his misguided fashion tries and tries to explain how terrible Simão is. Baltasar, Baltasar my dear could you not see that Teresa is dreadfully in ‘love’ with this guy. Nothing works in the Albuquerque household, no amount of cajoling, bribes; even a lovely party thrown in so that Teresa ‘could forget the lover’ and marry her suitor Baltasar, but NO! Teresa will marry only Simão, Simão, Simão. Fortitude says our Professora, look at the young girl; she knew her mind, forgetting that Teresa had known no other men.
‘Convent’, says Tadeu de Albuquerque, ‘Convent is what is best for you’, pssst thinks maybe she can learn some excellent ‘doçaria conventual’ he had a sweet tooth you see. ‘If that is what you want for me, so be it’ says the dutiful daughter, Fortitude says our Professora wiping a tear from her eye.
Letters to Simão, who like a rabid bull, paces his room.
DO NOT DO ANYTHING RASH SIMÃO, KEEP COOL
SAVE ME! SAVE ME!! I CANNOT STAY HERE ANYMORE
So when Teresa is being transferred from one Convent to another, Simão rushes to her rescue, seeing the unfortunate Baltasar in his way shoots him.
Simão, tells the Police, ‘I have committed this crime, do what you will, I seek no pardon, I desire no help, nor do I desire any money from ANYONE. Psssst by then Simão had acquired a willing slave to do everything for him, procure food for him, wash his clothes and even spend her savings on him, a besotted creature so in love with him knowing deep in her heart that her love would never be repaid, not even acknowledged, for she came from humble, humble origins, daughter of the village blacksmith, Mariana the selfless soul.
Like many rich people, with loads of influence, Simão is not convicted, rather the thug is sent to us here in India so that he can start a new life. It is curtains for the passionate love, Mariana rejoices as she accompanies Simão to the land of heat and dust, he is all mine she thinks, but lovers are lovers and as Teresa waves out a tiny scrap of embroidered linen to Simão from the terrace of the Convent, she collapses O Simão, Simão meu amor she weeps and her soul lifts effortlessly to heaven, O que tragédia weeps our very own Professora, taken up by her own thoughts of love and romance. Simão, gets to know of the terrible but unavoidable occurrence, gets a high fever and dies. And Mariana what of Mariana the selfless soul? Not being able to bear the terrible tragedy, Mariana, flings herself into the sea, in her hands the packet of letters…….

On the face of it we have a tragedy like so many others but is this all that an erudite author like Camilo Castelo Branco wants to put forward? To not delve deeper into this book beyond the sentimental story, beyond the ‘ai que lindo’ is in my opinion a greater tragedy.
Camilo Castelo Branco starts by emphasising the fact this is autobiographical story, Simon was a relative of the family. He goes to great lengths to tell us about how he came to know the story, backed by dates and historical facts, he narrates about a stay at an aunt’s house when he was orphaned at ten.
What Castelo Branco really wants to convey is the environment of the aristocracy during the XVIII and XIX centuries. Teresa takes great pains to explain how empty and full of vice life in Convents really is. In this context the tragic story takes on a different hue, it becomes a sort of a compendium of how aristocracy behaved in the XVIII and XIX Centuries.
We are shown how aristocracy behaved in villages how disparagingly city aristocracy treated village aristocracy.
We realise how much reputation and family traditions were meant to be, much above such mundane sentiments as love. The tragic consequences of what happens when ‘love’ takes precedence over age old family traditions and sentiments, Simão turns into a criminal and dies of unexplained fever, Teresa cloistered in a convent dies because she just refuses to live, Mariana a sensible girl goes mad when she falls in love with Simão and ultimately commits suicide.
Strangely Castelo Branco writes
‘Os poetas cansam-nos a paciência a falarem do amor da mulher aos quinze anos, como paixão perigosa, única e inflexível. Alguns prosadores de romances dizem o mesmo. Enganam-se ambos. O amor aos quinze anos é uma brincadeira; é a última manifestação do amor às bonecas [...]. (p.26)’
Strangely in our hurry and myopic vision we have catalogued Amor de Perdição as just another tragic love story, we refuse to waste our time looking beyond the sentimentalism and finding the true essence of this book and that is the tragedy.