-Brian Mendonça
When aunty Thelma invited us to her home in Ernakulam this
Christmas we did not think twice. A
state that is proximate to Goa, my affair with the teardrop on the west coast
has been watered by many intermittent visits.


Vasco-da-Gama, who scripted a city of Goa in his name died
in Kochi on Christmas eve in 1524. His body was interred in St. Francis church,
Fort Kochi and moved fourteen years later to Lisbon. It was also here that the
body of St. Francis Xavier was brought from Malacca in 1553 and kept for
veneration for three days before being taken to Goa.

The incredible courage with which aunty built the villa
single-handedly is awe-inspiring. Twenty-one years after her husband Johnson
David died of cancer she believes he still loves her. ‘He is in the Gulf,’ she
said. ‘So many wives in Kerala have not seen their husbands who work abroad.’
‘He sends me money like them. I get his pension.’

Ten years back I breezed through Ernakulam to write my poem
on Kerala titled ‘Chingam I’ (2008) for the Kerala New Year. The flavour still
remains as we make our way to visit Mr. and Mrs. Vijayanadhan in Thiruvankulam,
an hour’s drive from Kaloor. A scent of place, a sense of home.
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Published in Gomantak Times Weekender, St. Inez, Goa, on Sunday, 31 December 2017. Pix of Thelma Johnson, flanked by her son Rohit, his wife Indu and son Hrithik on the right and Queenie, Dwayne and myself on the left. Taken after midnight Mass on 24th December 2017 at the door of Johnson'sVilla, Kaloor, Ernakulam. (Middle)selfie of shikara ride on the backwaters, Alleppey. (Bottom) Spicy pork vindalho prepared for the Christmas meal. Scan of my poem from A Peace of India: Poems in Transit (2011). Courtesy Brian Mendonca.
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