An Irate Cleric Pulls The Chain When my Dad married my Mum, she was working as a Medical Practitioner in Tamilnadu, after completing her LMP, The  Licentiate Medical Practitioner, at The Christian Medical College, Vellore. Medical education meanwhile had advanced and the Madras Medical College offered a shortened MBBS degree to those with an LMP. My dad, thought that this was an excellent opportunity for my Mum to upgrade her training. They applied to the MMC and my Mum, was accepted and enrolled for the shortened MBBS, at the Madras Medical College. My Dad was going to sponsor her studies on the salary he earned as a village priest.

go here This formed ripples, as some of my Dad’s peers, felt that he was getting far too ambitious. Some of them, went to the Bishop’s house and wound him up.  They whipped up a froth and complained to the Bishop that Baboo, the young priest posted in Sathur, was having ideas beyond his station. He was actually sending his Doctor wife off to do her further studies, in Madras. If these lofty ideas were not nipped in the bud, it would spread like wildfire and more young clergy would go about doing their own thing. The Diocese would suffer. The work would suffer. Most men, and the clergy were no different,  preferred to let their wives share the burden of their work, silently,  a few paces behind them.

see url My Mum and Dad had bought their tickets and had settled down in their train compartment to go to Madras. The train was scheduled to leave in 15 minutes. My Dad who was sitting by the window, looked out and saw the resident Bishop of Madras running, on the platform towards their train, with his white cassock flapping wildly all around him. The Bishop, saw my dad, at the window of the compartment and climbed in with the other priests who had accompanied him to the Railway station.

source Huffing and puffing, the Bishop threw himself on the seat next to my Dad. Neither my Dad, or my Mum had a clue about the unexpected visit from the Bishop. My Mum, thought that he had come to see her off and very respectfully she offered a glass of cold water from their mudpot, the kuja, that traveled with them on long train journeys. The Bishop gulped down the water, that my Mum offered him and started his tirade, wasting no time.

www optionbit com demo “Do get off the train, Baboo,” said the Bishop.
“It is not necessary for your wife to upgrade her training.”
“No need at all, young man”
“Working wives are a problem,” he said fanning himself with the newspaper.
“They always cook up ideas and stations beyond their means”
‘Always interfering with the man’s work.”
“The Diocese is really not interested in them,” he proclaimed.
“Be a good fellow,” he said, “and get off the train.”
“Enough is enough.”

source url The flashing red signal on the railway crossing was pale, in comparison to the rage, that bubbled up in my normally cool dad as he stood up to His Holiness, the Lord Bishop.
“I will get off the train, my lord Bishop” he said “if you tell me to, My Lord”
My Dad, always sounded like an actor from a Shakespearean play, when he addressed his Bosses, the Bishops he worked with.
“But I am extremely sorry, that I cannot ask my wife to get off the train, my Lord.”
“She is” he gently reminded the Bishop, “not an employee of the Diocese, I am”

rencontre gratuite tunisie “She is free to go on to Madras to do her shortened MB and up-grade her training if she wants to, my Lord”

enter The compartment meanwhile, came alive and watched the tax free entertainment unfurl, with growing interest. Some of them were sure that my Dad was running off with my Mum. They thought that the Bishop had found out in time and had come to stop them.

clever things to say on dating sites “They do not look very young”, they thought, “Maybe she is somebody else’s wife.”

In all the excitement that followed , no one noticed that the Guard had blown his whistle and waved the green flag.  The wheels were moving slowly and that the train was pulling out of the station. With great presence of mind, the Bishop, jumped up and pulled the Red Plunger, that activated the Emergency Brake of the moving train, bringing it to a grinding halt.

Politely and firmly, my Dad stood his ground and disobeyed His Holiness. He got off the train with the Bishop. However, he refused to let my Mum get off the train. The whistle blew and my mum took that fateful journey alone, leaving my Dad behind, on the receding platform, flanked by the officious white cassocks, to face the music and deal with an irate cleric, his mitre and his staff.

My Dad had ruffled senior clerical feathers. As a marked man, he was assigned hardship postings, far from his wife. This did not bother my Dad, in the slightest.  He stood his ground. He was going to see, that his wife finished her shortened MBBS course in MMC, come what may.

Meanwhile, Stephen Neil, the Bishop of the neighbouring Diocese, who was rather fond of my Dad and I suspect secretly admired his spunk, sent word to tell him that Singapore needed a pastor.

“Dear Baboo” the letter read,
“They are in need of a resident priest for the Tamil speaking congregation in Singapore. Why don’t you think of taking up this challenge for a year while you wife finishes her studies?
+ Stephen”

He gently persuaded my Dad to try it for a year, by which time His Neighbouring Holiness, would have retired and the coast would be clear,  for him to return to India. His wife, meanwhile,  would have completed her training in a couple of years.  So, my dad left for Singapore, on a contract for a year. Little did they know that it would be many turbulent, long years before he would return to India.

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