Saturday, August 1, 2009 - A Difficult Day

Vinay’s father died one year ago today.

The first death anniversary of a loved one is a solemn and special occasion for a Catholic family in Chandrapur. It is traditional for the family of the departed to have a priest bless the home and celebrate a remembrance Mass in their honor. After Mass, a brief prayer at the gravestone is customary, followed by a dinner for all friends and family. All of these events were scheduled today in honor of Vinay’s father.

We awoke early in preparation for the priest’s arrival at 9:30am. Vinay rushed to the store to buy fresh flowers for the grave. Neeta prepared snacks for visitors attending the blessing of the home. Vinay’s mother clothed herself in a beautiful flowing silk saree. Janet brushed her bouncing black curls. Niju buttoned his neatly pressed collared shirt. Everyone was busy with somber urgency.

About 30 minutes before the priest’s arrival, Neeta assisted me with problematical process of saree wearing. It is wonderful that one rectangular piece of fabric is capable of transforming itself into an elegant dress with just a few folds and tucks. However, the folds and tucks are quite complicated to the untrained wearer. Even Neeta, after several moments of bewildered confusion, called for her sister’s input. It took both Neeta and Neena about 20 minutes of draping and winding, pinning and creasing, folding and tucking, before they proudly announced the completion of their saree masterpiece.

The rest of the family entered the bedroom to view the artwork. The approval in their eyes was quite apparent. The saree was perfect.

I glanced at myself in the mirror. Vinay’s sisters had warned me that sarees can be cumbersome to wear – they had assured me that I really didn’t have to go through with it. They informed me that even Indian women secretly confess its awkwardness. Now, gazing at the saree in the mirror, I could not comprehend their words. I felt beautiful and girly in the soft folds of cloth that draped gracefully around my figure and twirled about my feet. The fabric easily flowed with the movements of my body. Nothing about it was cumbersome.

Now everyone was ready. Finally, several priests, dressed in long white robes, arrived a few minutes before 10:00 – completely punctual according to IST (Indian Stretchable Time). A blessing was prayed over the house in Malayalam. The prayer lasted only a few minutes, but it had a profound effect on all those in attendance. Afterwards, the priests were invited to partake in the few snacks prepared by Neeta.

Mass was at 10:30 – everyone carpooled in various cars to get to the church. We took the a picture of the ladies sitting inside of the church:


As you can see, benches were brought in for the special Mass. Men and women were still expected to sit on opposite sides of the church- although Vinay elected to break the unspoken rule to stand next to his mother.

After Mass, the congregation processed down the road to the cemetery. Here are pictures of us walking:




The graveyard was nothing like any burial site in the United Sates. A black metal gate barricaded the unkempt grounds where tall grass and weeds grew unbridled. There were very few stones to demark a beloved’s resting places, most graves were simply mounds of dirt overgrown with vegetation. Flowers were few and far between.

There was no regular maintenance of the cemetery in Chandrapur.

The prayer at the cemetery was followed by a catered lunch served at a local hotel. Men and women sat on opposite sides of the room to eat while I was introduced to more friends and family members. Everyone was surprised that I was wearing a saree – and later on Vinay told me that many expressed to him their happiness at my decision to wear it.

The lunch was tasty, but very spicy and my stomach rebelled at most of it. Vinay and everyone else devoured their portions with great zeal. We took a pictures while we there.

Everyone seated:


Men on one side of the room:


Priest blessing the food:


Vinay and I after eating:



The lunch only lasted a couple hours before we all returned home. I decided, since I was wearing the traditional Indian women dress, to attempt the customary position on a scooter for the ride home. Here is the picture of us on the scooter after we successfully made it home:


A close up of the same picture:


Since everyone was dressed up, we agreed to take family photos….let me begin the introductions:

Here is a close of me in the saree:


(All pictures are from Left to Rigth)

Neena, Me, Neeta (Neeta is oldest sibling, Neena is in the middle, Vinay is the youngest)


Janet, Niju, Anuj


Monisha, Niju, Janet, Anuj


Niju, Me, Janet, Anuj


Niju, Me, Janet, Anuj, Monisha


Neena, Vinay, Neeta


Me, Vinay's Mother


Me, Vinay's Mother, Vinay


Vinay, Me, Vinay's Mother, Neeta, Neena


Vinay, Vinay's Mother, (and thats his father's picture on the wall)


Monisha, Vinay's Mother, Ajay (Neena's Husband), Janet, Niju, Anju, Neeta


Ajay and Neena live in India right across the street from Vinay's mother. They have one son - Anju.

Neeta and her husband, Jubil, live in Ireland. (Jubil is actually in Ireland - he is a doctor and was not able to be present in India during this time) Niju and Janet are their children.

Today was an extremely emotional draining day for the family. We ended it early – especially since Vinay and I had to wake up early the next morning to catch the plane flying to Kerala