The Pearly Gates

“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me.” ― Erma Bombeck

 The evening was an epitome of laziness as the roads lay barren edged by the lone factory walls and the dingy independent bungalows. The grass on the pavement was long and silent as it peered at the empty roads for a human touch. The lone daily wages labourer was in no hurry to reach home, he let the speeding car go by. The sisters of the missionaries were peaceful in the solitude as they walked on the long lonely road. The speeding car slowed down to turn to its right and enter the open gates on that sluggish evening at the Missionaries of Charity for the sick and the destitute.

Sister Superior Missionaries Of Charity depicts the harsh realities in life as it houses the lonely, sick and the insane people who have lost their ability to get along with the difficulties in life. The security guard gestured, ‘ Write the purpose of your visit’. The colleges nearby, the schools and the people contribute anything and everything they can,  cereals, lentils, clothes, tubes of toothpaste and soaps, medicines, antiseptics and cotton rolls. Those who can’t contribute anything share their valuable time which is appreciated the greatest by the inmates. The needs of many of the inmates go beyond money and clothes. They need a  warm shoulder to share their grief and regain their strength.  We saw a missionaries sister hurry hastily with a youngster to attend a patient.  There was no one in the office to attend the visitors, it was then that we saw this bubbly cherub sister walk in boisterously.  She was plump with a round face. Her eyes were large and her dark skin carried a healthy glow. The pupils in her eyes gleamed with joy. She welcomed us and took the things that we had carried but was happiest to see the large can of Dettol antiseptic and the huge roll of cotton. She said,’ there are patients with maggots in their wounds, the cotton roll is cut and used as pieces of a blanket on these’. We listened to her as she said, ‘ some of the patients are emotionally ill and do not understand anything, but with time they recover and share their stories’. 

As we were leaving we stood in the garden admiring the roses and Mother Teresa’s statue. She followed us and said, ‘look at her feet’, the feet were bound in penurious sandals that were smaller than her feet as if she feared they would open. This had forced the middle toe to seat itself on the neighbouring toes. The feet were shaped differently and faced the opposite directions. The cherub sister said, ‘these were the signs of an exceptional human being’. She then turned and looked at the open gate and said, ‘people come here in grief and in need but we have never stopped them from leaving the place, our gates are always open’

The open gates plunged me into my past to a family as close as my youth. The husband and wife were young then with their three-year-old daughter Arya. We belonged to the same village in Kerala but lived a little away in Mumbai. We would often go there to spend the evenings as their little daughter would entertain all of us thoroughly. The man would often bring goodies home from the five-star hotel where he worked as a part of the hospitality industry. Arya would dress in various roles, sometimes as a teacher, sometimes as a film actress and many times as a young entrepreneur. The man was full of life with his humorous anecdotes. The lady had a fetish for cleanliness. Though the home was a studio apartment, we could never see anything out of place. The clothes were placed neatly folded in the huge wardrobe that lined the wall. Everything followed an orderliness, except  Arya and her father. They would pull out things, lay it at anywhere and enjoy the moments. The lady of the house would not mind it as she relished these moments the most. For me and my husband, those long hours of laughter and fun,  recalling friends and family were dear as life. Arya’s parents were with us in all our difficulties and joys till we left Mumbai. We would later meet  them only during our visits to Kerala. These visits grew lesser with responsibilities and the busy schedule brought a recollection of time only when it was time for Arya’ to get married. Arya’s wedding happened quickly but our friendship started coming back to normalcy slowly. Technology bonded us back with the lost time but within two years of the wedding, Arya’s father was detected with cancer.  It was a brief illness, he was quickly put on medication and chemotherapy. The pain was unbearable. He tried to withdraw from the course for a brief session but God pulled him and flung him across the golden gates of the heaven.  The painful events left the family shattered. How I wished God had his heavenly gates open just as these missionaries.

I looked at the cherub sister coming out of the past. She said,’ the gates are left open so that they never feel trapped and go back to their families’. I looked into her eyes and asked, Do they leave? She said, ‘ they never leave us, they feel secure and safe here’. 

Sister Superior Missionaries Of Charity