Elephant March
Nimi Kurian
19 September 2009, 08:50Brother Dev was tired. He was tired of having to work so hard thinking up schemes to raise funds. How ever much came in, it was never sufficient for the cause. There was a shortfall and then again he had to think up ways of making up that shortfall. He was tired of asking his parishioners to come with ideas because all they could envisage was a ‘sale’.
“I mean, a sale is a nice idea. I have no objection to it. But then, think of how much home baked cakes and old books would fetch?” he muttered to himself. “Why is it that my parishioners cannot understand the greater picture?”
He paced his lovely green lawn, hand on his chin, head bowed with worry. He failed to see the beauty of the mist rising from the valley, or the blue green hills far beyond or the gentle swaying of the trees. He did not even see the flowers in his garden! So worried was he about his financial situation. He glanced at his house and his brow was further furrowed. The paint was peeling from the old wooden posts, the walls had become green and mossy. Damp was beginning to show. At night he could hear the rodents on the roof.
“How will I get some money to fix my house,” he thought.
Just then he saw Immanuel returning from his morning’s turn in the town.
“Any post for me?” he asked.
“Yes Brother. There is an airmail letter,” said Immanuel as he handed over the letter.
“A letter?” puzzled Brother Dev. “In this day of internet and instant connectivity who could have sent a letter?”
Then he paused. Could it be someone wanting help? Or someone wanting money? Oh! It could be someone coming to India and wanting a place to stay!
Eagerly, he tore open the envelope. He saw a delicate, onion-skin letter paper which was scrawled in thin, spidery handwriting. He sat down in his gazebo. And as the gentle breeze played with leaves, he read the letter and with every word he read his heart beat faster, and his hands began to shake. He was perspiring now, though it was rather chilly. His dark face had paled and he was now a pale purple. Immanuel who was standing by watching Brother Dev, came running.
“Brother! Brother!” he shouted, anxiously. “Are you okay? Shall I call Sister Pansy?”
“No, no Brother,” said Brother Dev. “Just sit a while with me! Today, I know for sure that there is a God. And that God loves me.”
Immanuel was still puzzled so he just sat there looking at Brother Dev.
“You know what this letter is?” asked Brother Dev.
“No, Brother,” said Immanuel.
“This Brother, is a letter inspired by God. Our God has never forgotten us. See,” he waved the letter in front of Immanuel, “this shows how much He loves us!”
Immanuel nodded. He didn’t know what else he could do.
“This lady is 75 years old. She is an American. She wants to educate the heathens in India. She wants to educate them so that they will know about the living God. See, read the letter for yourself,” said Brother Dev.
Immanuel took it and began to read. He was very troubled. He didn’t like the implications and the suggestions in the letter. He didn’t like the way many of the phrases were worded. He thought they were offensive. He glanced up at Brother Dev and saw him gazing down into the valley with a benign expression on his face. Immanuel knew he had to read the letter again and find out what was positive and possible in that letter.
So he went back to reading it. But even at the second reading he found it disturbing. A 75-year old woman in some southern state in America wanted to send half her money to India for a school. As such it was a commendable idea. But she mentioned ‘heathens’ ‘poor’ ‘dirty’ and ‘direction-less’ in the same breath as Indians. She wanted a secure building for the school so that tigers would not attack the children during school hours. And many more such improbable suggestions. But Immanuel knew that he would have to keep quiet for otherwise Brother Dev would not like it.
Feigning enthusiasm, he handed back the letter and smiled.
“We need to get to work Brother,” said Brother Dev. “From tomorrow your work will be to scout around from some land. Make sure it is deep inside some forest area. We need to keep in mind the tribal children for this project.”
Immanuel was happy because now he knew that the children who had been left out by private institutions would also get a chance to study. Enthusiastically, he looked around for land. A couple of weeks of diligent work by Immanuel and he had found a nice piece of land in a forest. He hadn’t seen any tribal settlements there but the realtor promised him there were several tribal settlements in that area.
In the meantime, Brother Dev was in regular communication with his American benefactor. Sending her pictures of the place, drawings, sketches, photographs of tribal children (which were already in his file) and writing to her frequently. So by the time the land deal looked like it was coming through the dollars were already in Brother Dev’s bank account.
With the purchase of the land, work commenced on Brother Dev’s house. He spared no expense to get his house in good condition. By the end of the month his house was a work of art. It was beautifully done up and visitors exclaimed on how nice it was looking. Brother Dev puffed out in pride. Pansy smiled happily.
And then suddenly, into this blissful state of affairs came a thunderbolt. An official looking letter was delivered to Brother Dev.
With trembling fingers and hope singing in his heart he opened it. It took all his courage and will power not to collapse. It was a letter from the solicitors of his American benefactor. They said that she was no more but before she died she had made a request that a visit be made to this school she had helped build. She wanted the two senior solicitors in the firm to visit, meet the children in the school and write a detailed report of it to her nephew who was her sole heir.
With weakening heart, Brother Dev read on. The solicitors were booking their tickets and hoped to be with him early next month.
In a sweat, Brother Dev rushed into his office. He pulled out his bank passbook. The donated amount was considerably depleted. He slumped over his desk.
“Could it be possible?” he wondered. An idea was taking root. “Yes, may be. If I could find the right man. Then the amount I have left will be just enough. But who…?”
But within the hour he has his answer. He called out to Immanuel and asked him to send Amos, the amateur actor, to him. At one time, Amos had had ambitious plans of Tollywood.
When Amos came to meet him, Brother Dev had very clear cut instructions. “I have a plot of land in the forest. I am bringing some visitors. I will let you know the exact date and time. I need you to be there at that time. Appropriately dressed!”
Amos knew exactly what was required of him. He knew he would be adequately rewarded too.
A couple of weeks later, a happy, carefree Brother Dev whistled as he went about his morning’s work. Today the Americans were coming and his plan was working just beautifully.
Accompanied by the Americans, who were recovering from jet lag, spicy food and the weather, they drove off to the school. Brother Dev gave them no time to recover. He filled them up with details of the school, the children, the lesson plans and the teachers. A long drive and they were near the school. They had to walk four to five km into the forest to reach the school. They got down from the car and began to walk. Half way through, a small, dark man who had hardly any clothes on him came running through the trees. His hair was in knots and he had paint on his face. In his hand he carried a basket or may be it was a sheild.
The Americans looked startled, even scared. This was the India they had been warned about. The untamed, unknown, magical India.
He ran up to them, waving his hands and gesticulating wildly.
“What is it?” asked Immanuel.
The man spoke to Immanuel in a different language. Brother Dev and the Americans saw Immanuel’s expression change from one of interest to fear. He turned to them and said, “Quick! Quick! We need to get out of here. There’s a herd of wild elephants heading this way.”
No more needed to be said, for with great speed the Americans were back in the car.
Later that evening, when the Americans had calmed down, Brother Dev showed them snapshots of the school, the children and the teachers. They were happy. They wrote a nice long, detailed report on how well the money had been spent.
