Parumala Thirumeni
by Bar 'Eato Briro Dr. D. Babu Paul
PARUMALA THIRUMENI: I CALLED, HE HEARD...
Ten days ago I had a fall. As usual I was halfway through my morning constitutional at about 5.15 am. Before I realized what was happening I fell down. I presume that most people fall before they realize what is happening, anyway. A fall happens without premeditation; a premeditated fall is a jump, be it to death or an athlete’s pit. The road as I discovered later had a slight, very slight, difference in level. The three previous nights and days it was raining and the curve around Ayyankali Park was flooded. As water drained away some sand may have lodged itself at this point on the road and my shoes may have applied the right pressure for a shear there. There were three auto rickshaw drivers yawning their way to sunrise near the gate of the Latin Archbishop’s house. They rushed to help me back to my feet. And they also offered me the seat of their vehicle to take rest. After a while I walked back to my car near the Kawdiar Palace. After driving back home I engaged a taxi and went to Cosmopolitan, a well established private hospital here to take an ATS poke. I did not feel very bad except for some abrasions on my hand and took it easy: I have always believed in dying without the help of doctors if possible. On the third day I discovered that I was worse. I had to be at Doordarsan Kendra for a live shoot and could not put myself into my normal kurta outfit. I was reminded of the man who went to the doctor complaining that when he put his right hand at the left hip and the left hand at the right hip and tried to raise both hands together he felt a sort of catch at the bottom of the spinal cord. The doctor asked him to discontinue that particular exercise and the patient said, But then how do I take off my banian? So I went to the Doordarsan Kendra wearing
a loose shirt that I buttoned but partly, the way I could manage on my own since I live alone. Later I found my gold chain was visible and I felt bad: it was like some novo riche casually revealing his torso in studied carelessness. The next day I rang up Dr. Cherian Thomas, considered the best in the field here now. He wanted X Rays and discovered a small crack that would not justify plastering my arm but demanded a ‘sling operation.’
Tuesday morning when I found that the swollen palm and forearm had not improved I decided to take divine help. I have a picture of St. Gregorios of Parumala with me. It is not the usual picture of Parumala Thirumeni painted on the model of a photograph taken by an Anglo Indian photographer of Trivandrum towards the end of the nineteenth century, but one taken as his mortal remains were ready for burial in 1902. This picture shows that his eyes were open when he died. The bishops in our church are buried in a sitting posture, like senior swamijies in the Indian tradition are. Here even the body shows a posture that could not be corrected because rigor mortis had set in. The saint had forecast his death that night and four favourite disciples of his (three monks and a “malpan”, that is, a senior priest who teaches deacons and aspirants, all of whom later rose to be bishops, Mar Athanasius and Mar Coorilose who happened to belong to the same faction when there was a split in the church later and Mar Dionysius and Mar Geevargese II who were on the opposite side.) tried to keep watch. However when death did come all the four had mysteriously dozed off at the same time. By the time they woke up and recognized what had happened rigor mortis had set in. I like to imagine that this was God’s way of conveying a message: the half reclining posture and the open eyes perhaps show the amazement of the saint when he saw Him in person at the hour of death. Now I have kept an enlarged version of this photograph beside my bed. Yesterday I acted like a child: I placed my hand on his hand in the picture and prayed for a speedy cure.
God does not appear in flesh and blood to heal. In my case He appeared in the form of my barber of 35 years whose native wisdom reminded me of an ayurvedic remedy common in south Kerala. MURIVENNA; I do not know what they call this in the northern parts. It is used in kalaries and Ayurveda outfits. It is a sort of good-for-everything type of treatment. You apply it on wounds and healing is quicker. You apply it on aching bones and it helps. You apply it on swollen limbs and they become normal. I had stocks with me. And I applied it. By the next morning there was significant improvement. And today 48 hours later it is almost gone, the swelling and the pain. I feel confident that it would become part of my medical history by tomorrow morning. This reminds me of what I had written about Ayurveda earlier: had I gone to a kalari in the first instance they may have done this straightaway. My short point this week is that my faith in Parumala Thirumeni has worked a minor miracle for me.
It is a matter of dispute whether God exists except in man’s imagination. Among those who accept God it is a matter of debate whether God is interested in small abrasions and contusions. Among those who believe that God is interested in all things big and small it is a matter of opinion whether God has to be approached through intermediaries. I believe that God exists, that He is interested in me and that while He certainly is accessible to all it helps if one seeks the intercession. I have special links with Mary the Mother of God (this is a theological expression to say that Jesus was God always), my own grandmother who became a widow at 22 and lived to be 78 punctuating her life with Lents and fasts and Blessed Teresa of Kolkatta besides Parumala Thirumeni. It is a matter of personal faith. Some people depend on Sabarimala and others on Guruvayoor; some go to Bimapally and others to ordinary mosques. Similarly some may share my faith, others may deem it wildly disoriented!
A related question is about canonization. Canonization is a process by which a departed soul is declared a saint. It is a western custom. Rome has elaborate procedures for that. The Devil’s Advocate is part of that process: his job is to dig up all weaknesses in the earthly life of the person sought to be canonized. In Oriental and Eastern (the two are different clusters among the Orthodox) Churches this practice is not common. Among the Eastern Churches the Russian Orthodox Church commenced this practice a few centuries ago. And among the Oriental Churches it is only the Orthodox Church in India that has this practice. It began in 1940s with Mar Geevargese II declaring two persons as saints. Subsequently the two factions have declared their favourite saints. However this is not repeat not the system or tradition in this church. Our tradition is to leave it to time and people. Over a period of time some centres emerge and some saints are identified in public mind. The disadvantage with this system is that only bishops become saints here! In the Roman Church a sickly nun unknown to the outside world like Blessed Alphonsa and an Abbot’s cook like Martin de Pores may be canonized but in our tradition the headgear of a bishop is an inevitable part of the documentation ‘prescribed’ for the process.
As the Orthodox Christians in India observe the feast of St. Gregorios of Parumala I had another unique experience of the saint’s special love and care for me. I thought I should share this with my readers, unbelievers and rationalists included.
