Tuesday in Chennai

We have been having a very nice time in Chennai.  Mrs. Sarah Chandra has taken us under her wing.  She is a very formidable lady.  I am delighted that she is taking care of us, but I don't think that I would want to be answerable to her.  She has very high standards, and doesn't put up with much.

She took us on a little tour Monday, so that we could see her church.  She attends St. Mary's Anglican church, which is inside Fort St. George.  This was the area first settled by the British, and currently used as the seat of government.  The Fort has high, thick walls and British colonial buildings, and far too many offices and people for it's current use.

We drove up to the gate, and there were army guys checking every car that entered for papers and bombs and whatnot.  Mrs. Chandra informed the guard that we were going to church, and they waved us through without checking.  She directed the driver to park in front of the door to the church.  It's clearly marked no parking, but since government cars had taken all the church parking, she felt it was acceptable.

We went inside, and it was very interesting.  The church, and the fort, were built by an official named Elihu Yale.  For whatever reason, in later life he willed his papers and books to a small American college, which changed its name in honor of this gift.  Since I attended the "Yale of the Midwest," I found this connection interesting.  The parish register is on display, open to the page shoaling E. Yale's marriage.  There were all kinds of interesting things.  The church is filled with memorial slabs.  As Mrs. Chandra pointed out, the soldiers who died on duty were often no more than 16 years old.  There were names that I recognized from reading Indian history. and also a plaque to Admiral Samuel Hood, which amused me.

As we left, Mrs. Chandra informed me that the prayer booklet and Christmas cards (made by village women painting on leaves) were for sale, and I took the hint.  She instructed the sexton to give me a copy of the booklet describing the church's history, as she could tell that I had a real interest.

I would have liked to go to the fort museum, which has a lot of colonial material, but that wasn't her plan.  She intended for us to go to St. Thomas Mount, and see the view and the orphanage and other buildings there.  Unfortunately, after we got into the car and pulled out, we got caught in a really awful traffic jam.  Vindya fell asleep.  After more than 20 minutes, Mrs. Chandra got out and headed up to see what the problem was.  After about 5 minutes, the driver said that he ought to follow her, "just in case."  I read the historical booklet, and looked over the prayers.  (A collection of well known prayers from different sources, one for each day of the month.)  I reminded myself to always bring the latest issue of the Economist, no matter where I was going.

About 20 minutes later, the driver came jogging back through the gridlock.  "Madam has sorted it!  We should move soon."  Sure enough, cars started moving and we inched our way forward.  When we got to the front gate, Mrs. Chandra was there, having a stern talk with a young man in uniform.  "It doesn't matter if they are on military duty, these trucks are simply too big for the Fort.  You mustn't let them in.  The officers transporting materials must learn to send several smaller loads, or enough men to unload outside the Fort.  You see the mess this has caused.  Here is my car.  I expect you to do better from now on.  I'll talk to your commander about this tomorrow."  She never raised her voice, but I bet they were glad she was in a hurry to leave.

Since it was too late to get to the Mount and back on time, she decided to take us to see the tomb of St. Thomas.  This is a large, Catholic shrine.  There are signs posted in English, stating that only three churches contain the burial places of disciples of Christ: St. Peter's in Rome, Santiago de Compostella in Spain, and St Thomas Cathedral in Madras/Chennai.  I haven't been to the other two, so I was pleased to be here.  There is no charge for admission, although everyone must remove their shoes.

The shrine is decorated in the style that I think of as 19th Century Pious.  All the signs are in English.  We went down a flight of stairs into the basement, where there is a small entrance hall with dioramas from the life of St Thomas, including a grisly depiction of his martyrdom.  The chapel itself is fairly small and plain, with marble walls, rows of pews, and a large glass case at the front, with a model of St. Thomas, lying as if asleep, with a sign reading "My Lord and My God."  (In all of these depictions, St. Thomas was white.)  There were probably half a dozen people there, praying.  One family had a noisy toddler, so I didn't feel completely embarrassed when Vindya raced to the front and knelt between two pilgrims, folding her hands piously.

We only stayed a few minutes, then went back upstairs.  There is also a small museum, which contains many Christian artifacts from South India - carvings, monuments, wall decor, reliqueries, etc.  There were souvenirs from the visit of John Paul II, and photographs of important Catholic leaders.  Mrs. Chandra pointed out the previous Archbishop but one, and said that he had been a dear friend.  When her own bishop had sent him an official letter stating that "where Sarah Chandra is, I will not come," even though he was leaving from Rome the next morning, he took the time to call her to see what it was about, contact other Anglicans to hear their version, and then write a formal letter back to the bishop stating that this matter was internal to the Anglican community, and should not be spread about.  He died of a heart attack shortly after his return from Rome, so this was almost his last official action.  I asked why her bishop was upset, and she said it was because when the church did something wrong, she pointed it out.  She no longer remembers the details, but thinks this may have involved her campaign to get the Church of South India to be an active participant in welcoming and resettling refugees.

Vindya ran up to an icon of Mary, knelt, folded her hands, crossed herself, and kissed Mary's feet.  We have no idea where she can have learned this in a government orphanage, but she knew what to do.  (Similarly, when Mom and I were in China to get her, LiJun ran up to a statue of Buddha, clapped three times, prayed, and grabbed a joss stick out of a container of them to stick into another container.  She was raised in a government orphanage as well.  Clearly, there is a lot going on in those places we would never suspect.)

Mrs. Chandra asked me what I thought, and I mentioned the white St. Thomas and the lack of Indian culture.  I made some comment about how long the church had been there, meaning the body of believers.  She reminded me sharply that her church, St. Mary's, was the oldest in Chennai.  I said that St. Thomas had come 2000 years ago, and that was time for some cultural connection.  She laughed and said that was true, but sadly he went first to Kerala, and the Keralites were not up to snuff.  If they had done some decent evangelism, this could have been a Christian country, but they were content to just sit on it, and look at the mess. 

After this, we went to her daughter's house.  Her other daughter also came, and we had a nice family meal.  Her granddaughter and Vindya played very nicely together.  Vindya loves dolls.  Sarah's daughter pointed out that she knew exactly what to do, and was holding them properly and feeding them (this involved several dishes and lots of mixing) in a typical Indian way.  They considered that there were probably lots of babies at the sisuvihar, and she saw this a lot.  I noticed that her favorite of the dolls was brown, not white, and mentioned that I have been looking for one.  They all laughed and said there were none in India, only white dolls.  This one was a gift from Judy Kloper, who brought it from America.  (Score one for Judy!)

The reason we needed to get to her daughter's house before 1 is that their scheduled power outage is daily from 1-2.  Her daughter lives on the third flood, (4th to Americans) and she needs to take the lift, rather than the stairs.  Everyone in India has regular outages.  The guest house has  a generator that kicks in from 12-1, as do many of the larger businesses.  There are also random and unannounced outages.  It's a major issue for Indian life.  It's considered to be the major impediment to rapid economic growth.

There were two servants, an older man and a middle-aged woman at the house when we were there.  The woman was ironing.  She sat on the floor with a folded piece of cloth that she used as a flat surface, and ironed all the household clothes and linens.  The man was sweeping, and also made lunch for us.  Mrs. Chandra referred to him as "Watchman."  She said that he had been the watchman at their compound until she sold it to move to an apartment, and at that point he came to live with and work for her older daughter.

At some point, she decided that we should go to Pondicherry for the weekend.  She has friends visiting from Sri Lanka, and they are going, so we should all go together.  She invited the friends to have breakfast with us on Wednesday, so that we can meet up.  She informed me that she called Natan, and the same driver we had today will take us up.

The rest of the day we just relaxed back at the YWCA.  We walked across the courtyard to a small bazaar featuring eco-friendly products, where I got some shampoo (which we needed) and some notecards made by developmentally delayed adults.

Mrs. Chandra introduced us to a friend who is also staying at the guesthouse.  Her name is Nalini.  She lives in Chennai, and owns a bookstore. Because of the extreme heat and humidity this season, she collapsed and needed a complete rest.  She came here, and loves it.  It is cool, meals are provided, and it is a nice atmosphere.  We had a talk about what kind of books I might like about India, and she will bring them for me from her store. She said I can look and see if I would like them, no obligation, but I suspect that I'll buy whatever she brings.  Books!

After dinner, I had a nice chat with a young man.  His name is Annith, but he said that I should call him George, because experience has shown that Americans have trouble with his name.  He is a medical doctor, and just got back from a year in Kentucky.  His wife is also a medical doctor, and they are taking exams in Chennai to see if they can do post-doc work in America. He told me the places they are applying, and one was Huntsville.  I told him that if they ended up there, I would connect him with my brother.  I explained what he does, and George said, "He is what we would call a pharmacy rep."  I said that's what we called him, leaving aside that I often just tell people he sells drugs.  (Not technically true, by the way, just in case anyone from the FDA is reading this.)  

George's parents are both physicians in Qatar, where he lived until he came back to India to go to medical school.  As the only boy, he plans to practice in Qatar so he can take care of his parents.  They don't need him yet, and US qualifications are more highly regarded in Qatar than Indian ones, which is why he is trying to get accepted in the US.  He and his wife are both from Kerala, but he said it will not be a problem for her to leave her family and move to Qatar, as it will be expected.  He is done with the exams, but she was taking the last one today, after which they would go back to Kerala, and then start the visa application process, so that if they pass the exams, they can be slotted into post-doc application processes.

We had a very nice dinner, and ice cream for dessert, so Vindya is very happy!