Feeling Christmassy

Tis the season to be jolly... or thats how the old Carol goes but how can you feel jolly without calling to mind all thats dear to you? To bring on that warm Christmassy feeling I call upon memories from deep within the recesses of my mind to generate an image of a nice cold Christmas night, snowed in or huddled in the manger among the farm animals, shepherds and angels awaiting the coming of Christ the King and the Three Wise Men from the East. However living in the Hot and humid country that is India we're a far cry away from snowy Christmas nights and Picture Postcard images of Snowmen in the Meadows, Real Coniferous Christmas trees and the rest. Also given the prevalent religious and cultural inclinations of the motherland Christmas wont shine as brightly as Diwali except for dominiantly Christian pockets like Bandra and IC Colony to name a few.

Dont need any of that really because Christmas is about Christs People, flesh and blood humans who wont melt away when the sun comes up! I've seen a score of such beautiful people across the years at camp. Lively people who sing and dance and trek merrily forgetting the busy lives and mad rush back home taking some time out to live in Christian Harmony... Just the way it should be. The best notion of a cold dark night is the Winter campfires in the October/November Camps or the privileged bunch of regular campers invited by Fr. Robin to spend an intimate quiet New Year away from the maddening crowds in Bombay. Not that the merry making was any different but the beauty was being in the company of people you know and can let you guard down with... Something thats getting quite difficult to do nowadays with the way the worlds turning. There'd be singing, dancing and a spirited night of Carol Singing in keeping with the Season, not to mention a dip in the Icy pools of DEAR or EDEN and dunking your head into a waterfall only to come out with your teeth chattering and a crackling Camp fire in the nights that was sure to warm the cockles of your heart.

Seasons Greetings Fellow Campers. Have a Fabulous Christmas and a Happy New Year 2013. God Bless.

A Day in History

Sweet November and winter chills made this escape from the noises back in the city even more special as we ogled at the Fireworks display across the valley at the Dukes Resort minus the sounds. Camfires and Barbecue nights became possible as nights got colder. Moonlight treks to see the "lights of Khopoli" or to the Grotto were often followed by Rum Punch and coffee to warm our insides upon return to camp. This November I recall the multitude of campers who celebrate their birthdays:

4th November - Savia, Mild mannered girl who transformed into the Hulk when she played Hockey!
7th November - Lenciann, A staged accident at DEAR Falls scared the living daylights out of her.
8th November - Juroska, came to camp as a baby... now no longer that little.
11th November- Preeti, Bandra girl, kept a low profile. Last seen in 1997
12th November - Trisha, came from Baroda in 1996, then made a comeback in 2004
12th November - Malica, regular at camp, Championed Articulation, Gave me my first 'Thankyou Card"
13th November - Orpheus, witty old bloke, wrote for the examiner, a permanent fixture at camp.
14th November - Fleur, last seen at camp in 1998.
15th November - Debbie, from Silvan Shades, made couple of  helpers I know lose focus
15th November - Deseril, the only helper I know who got homesick at cam and was deported.
15th November - Smita Darole, from Vashi, Part of a youth retreat at Kune in the monsoon
16th November - Neisha, we met at the DYC camp next door, would have loved to get to know her better but a virus took her away from me.
17th November - Jonathan, Stalwart Helper, trained by the NCC one night  he crawled through thick grass up to the grotto only to be mistaken for a panther and stoned by the bunch he aimed to scare.
19th November - Mirelle, from DYC next door, attractive, remember for her TShirt that read: "Dont just stand there, Hug me!"
20th November - Tresha, regular at camp, set the forest on fire, famous for her song "Diarrhea"
21st November - Nelida, last seen at camp as a baby in 1997
21st November - Sandra, Nurse who tended to my hacked finger, Musically inclined, migrated.
22nd November - Lyris, had the Lions share of my stock of Eclairs, Camp of 1997.
27th November - Clarissa, little girl at camp, wherebouts unknown.
27th November - Saralee, record holder for youngest kid down to Eden at age 3yrs.


Happy Birthday Everyone, may God bless you and those you love where ever you may be.

Cheers and God Bless.

Masses in Khandala/Lonavala

Luckily for me I've had the privilege of having a priest handy almost every time I've been to Khandala so pampered as I was, I never felt the need to google up church or mass timings. But its a good thing you can and a good thing if you did as it shows you've been raised in faith and christian teachings even if it came about with a spanking for not wanting to wake up in time for Sunday Mass way back when you were a kid.

For those interested in dragging your asses into church early in the morning there is an 8:30 AM eucharistic celebration at The Church of St. Joseph in Lonavala, the location of which has often been pointed out to me as we crawled through the Chikki shop lane past Lonavala Railway Station and onward to the liquor shops as we rounded the Shivaji Statue circle in the midst of the busy market place. Unfortunately in my spiritual pursuit the church was always obscured from my vision. So I suggest you start off early enough in case you have to search for the place. Watching the pictures online shows the church on a pretty good elevation so you could look high for a Cross or spire that will lead you in the right direction. God speed and Good luck Pilgrim. I seldom braved the crowds at Lonavala that throng the Chikki shops and amusement and water park facilities at Kumar Resort.I prefer the relative peace and quiet of old Khandala. In fact we once even managed to smuggle  the baby-faced Fr. Prince from Khopoli parish to get some close friends married in Khandala.

For the hungover bunch who can't make the 8:30AM deadline dont fret. You can seek salvation in the 10:30 AM service held at RC Church, Khandala thanks to the good priest from Khopoli who drives up to preach to his flock. This priest I've met on occasion and hes seems dashing enough to have stepped out of a fashion mag. Preaches a pretty good sermon too. All you need to do is drive down the old Bombay Pune road heading back towards Bombay until you pass the pond and a couple of old Parsi bungalows as you round the curve. Soon after take a sharp left up the lane and no sooner than you enter you'll Have the RC Church compound on your right. Keep an eye out  for the sign that reads RC Church or you'll drive up the slope past it and into the land of the High rollers and their lofty Holiday Villas.

Dont worry if you miss the turn on your left, just keep going and you'll find your self in plenty of time for an evening service at any church you fancy (and know the route to) back in Bombay. Hahaha. Dont mind my kidding, simply look up better directions and maps online. Cheers and don't forget to pray for me. Theres a saying when you pray for others God blesses them and they feel inner peace. When you feel blessed and peaceful, remember... someone has prayed for you.

Summer Days are drifting away...

And Boy! did we have some fun...!
Taking a line out of John Travoltas famous song in Grease this past May in Khandala I experienced a camp like no other I've been to in very many years. And for me to be saying that its quite a lot! Growing up at the camps I was bred on good people, the kind you don't often get to meet in the normal ruthless hustle bustle of the city. As I then grew older, work and other pursuits eroded away time until my camp time diminished to just a flicker. Unable to commit... (more time to the camps I mean he he he;-) I sometimes went AWOL as a helper much to the ire of an older even crankier fr. Robin!

The trouble being I barely managed to steal away time to make a quick run up once college was done and I trudged through the ruts in the Rat Race we all haplessly endure, so I'd try and bum some "alone time" to get lost in the misty woods of Khandala. And I'd do it just when I happened to be needed to do something at camp, like lead a trek, fix something, guard someone etc. So much so that I was in the year 2004 even awarded a Certificate from the Academy of Pakau Paul that read: The MOST WANTED Member Award ...for finding urgent things to do (ELSEWHERE) whenever the team needed him the most! or something very much akin to that and ironically I wasn't around when my name was called to receive it and so a gal I call Tresh had to collect it on my behalf!

But yes that was more so the case and so I resigned from active service as a helper and just showed up at the camp when ever I could which was mostly in the wee hours or late after the entire camp slept and most likely would have to head back to work the next day early morning before the entire camp would even wake up to a beautiful Khandala morning. So after a long night of drinking in Khandala (often alone) I'd go back after smiling and nodding my way through half a dozen sleepy faces at coffee and come away not really getting to know anyone. No treks, No walks, No games! Didnt feel like camp. 2008 -2011 were like the drought... then this sudden flash of brilliance in 2012!

Fr. tried to woo me to attend an earlier batch at St. Stanislaus because it had a more youthful bunch, I had already planned a day away from work to lead the next batch on a long trek which I was hoping would be Eden. When I finally did arrive at the Camp late after dinner I was overwhelmed and engulfed by the overfriendly and hospitable persona of a man named Troy. Tired and hungry I had resigned myself to leftover cold camp mess which I asked fr. to stash for my sustenance. What a surprise as I was about to knock on his door I see a bag hitched on the handle full of awesome leftovers from Kamats... Chicken Tikka, Rotis, Dal Tadka that smelt so un-camp and tasted a whole lot better tha t I completely forgot to wake up fr. Robin to inform him of my safe arrival. He woke up soon enough though and lambasted me for not doing so and then proceed to ply me with the meal he'd saved for me. By then I'd had a couple of discourses with The Old Monk, my tummy full and spirits up I had by then gotten quite friendly with Troy, his missus and two boys, as we tried to talk over the ever rising sound of music which must have woken up Fr. Robin in the first place!

Later on into the night I snuggled into my sleeping bag atop the roof of dear old Maxx our pickup truck, again an Idea pushed into my head by my newest acquaintance and rum runner Troy. I was awakened the next morn not by chirping birds but the smell of fresh coffee brewing and then the sound of flashbulbs as a couple of trigger happy campers (Troy and Robin) tried to capture my craziness on camera! DAY 2 had arrived at camp and I had to swing into action! We made our way up the road to the rear of the sausages (a trail I'd never taken before) and I led a bunch of 20 campers including a few small kids through some pretty unexplored patch of jungle in our search for the trail t the top of the Sayhadris. I took a wrong turn (I still say maybe!) and we cut through the middle instead of further up, aligning ourselves to the points we had to eventually reach I urged the very sporting group through some dense unused trails of dried forest. After a few hours of adventurous advance into foreign territory we'd gone past about 4 sausages and although still a long way from our destination the Saddle, I once again aimed the bunch of campers now friends (we bonded along the way) toward the Road down below! This trip had all the makings of some crazy expedition into the unknown as we crawled, slid and "actually discovered" trails we could use to finally reach the long winding road that took us to Khandala Station and across to St. Marys for a quick dip in a Piscina before hitting the sunny road back to Stanislaus for some much deserved beer and lunch!

The rest of the afternoon disappeared rather quickly, then evening games of Throwball, Volleyball and Hockey on the court and at the Table Tennis Table against Giles, by the end of Day 2 it felt as if I'd known all the people for more than a week and I was already planning how to come back! Everyone crashed early as a result of the days exertion and I went through the motions of detachment as I prepared to head back the next morning... >>>FAST FORWARD>>> I was back in Bombay! My bunch of helpers went up to camp that weekend to take the people to Eden on Sunday... I kept pumping them up about the camp and its people one of em actually thought I was at camp that weekend. What id did though was to rewire my week off earlier in the week so I got to go back to Khandala one day before the last day of camp. Two hours into Monday morning found me at mass  followed by breakfast with the Campers again hahaha! After that we drove down in a caravan of cars to the other side of the Saddle, made a slight trek up the slopes and to the top, plucking "karwandas" or cherries along the way, It was simply fun and on our way back we bought about 2 dozen golas from the "Gola wallah" or ice candy seller as we entered camp around lunch time.

Another plus for me apart from being reunited with the people I became close to so soon was a reunion with a few helpers from across timezones or eras at camp Captain Tesclin the renegade, Kiru the roughneck and Carlos the Smart Alec... we got into a frenzy over beer, with music and tales from yesteryears Then after lunch we drifted off for a bit before catching up for games again in the evening.
During that while I took a small detail to the NAB Lions Home for the Aging Blind (a charity foundation that is a masterpiece in Blind enterprise and craftmanship!) and met some people working there for over 15 years who could barely recognize me through the layers of flab I'd grown but they remembered the kid I was leading groups to nab once every week of camp way back then. The home is a shelter to blind inmates who skillfully work power looms and spinning jenny among other tools to create some fantastic bed & bath linen fabric, embroidery works, candle, chalks, bags and knitted tops all sold through an open house walk about counter that allows you to interact with the blind workmen as you contribute to their cause. A must visit place as you run through Khandala!

The people of this camp were sweet enough to draw me back, the new people I mean. This camp had a few regulars I often bump into on such occasions (The Sayyeds, Rex, Anil, Tesclin), a family from my village in Bombay, then amongst the newbies were Troy, Pam & Joelle, Robert and Mitchelle, Sylvia and Maria, Nikita, Dr. Fiona the TT Ace,  Kenneth and his Family, a little girl named Claris who cried on our first trek and went home early, Dr. Savio the Ghost Story Teller, some of Fr. Alwyn Fernandes' kin I knew as a kid, A research Scientist who was part of a team expedition to the North Pole and who gave me some grief for leading a bunch of first-timers through unchartered territory. All pretty interesting people who hovered around the campfire a bit and then slowly dwindled into the night as the flames died. By then we boys had done some pretty serious drinking and I faded out before an early start back to the concrete jungle the next day.

Teachers, Preachers, Saints and Kings...

As a preview to Camp in May we celebrated Fr.Robins 45th Anniversary as a Jesuit  with a select bunch of people who love him & his camps.  An early morning drive from Mumbai into the chilly mountain air brought us sleepy headed early birds to the gates of at St. Stanislaus Villa. to In all we were 3 families & a couple of Helpers thrown in amounting to 15 people including Fr. Robin. who made our way up on Saturday at different times of the day depending on the modes of transport we chose.Giles, the caretaker & man in charge of the property, mildly apologetic that the chief Chef was on leave,  made us feel at home as we settled in.What better place for the celebration of this event other than Khandala, where his vocation blossomed as he pioneered the Family Camps that encompassed a myriad of people?

Soon after our arrival we unpacked and occupied the rooms allotted to us before milling about the premises or indulging in a  conversations with fr. Robin..Ginger the camp dog, starved of human interaction was at her playful best and kept us entertained as we waited for the rest of our gang to show up. A school of teachers also arrived, and one of them even set her eye on a couple of spirits (we'd) hidden in the fridge.Defensive action was taken and not one was lost, showing you cant put a price on mans most cherished possessions.No sooner had I returned from the market place with supplies, we had mass at the Gazebo. After a sumptuous lunch I escaped from the dining hall just as a couple of spirited teachers attempted to do a jig on the table. We rested and lazed about the rest of the afternoon as the last of our group joined in. At tea time we had Fr. Robin cut a refreshingly delicious cake from Monginis that disappeared almost immediately.

Later that evening we played throw-ball and strolled about the forested grounds, exploring the now defunct swimming pool, & stacking up bits of wood in case the night got nippy and called for a campfire before attending mass in the chapel (for Sunday).After an evening of merriment a small band of us took a Night-walk alongside the Canal, to the accompaniment of dogs howling as we crossed foreign territory conjured up human monsters in my mind especially after a ordeal a girl I knew faced rather recently and I made the group do a quick about face and herded them back to the safety of camp. The teachers seemed like a classroom of children left unattended, wining, dining & dancing -having a good time and it amused me to see them indulge in the sort of behaviour they're stereotyped to chastise! That night as the teachers talked the night away we did a few Teachers too! (Relax... They came in a Can!) I had earlier envisioned a long drawn weekend unwind from the bustle and stress of city life but one among my kin had a prolonged bout of purges that progressively worsened through the night and we had to rush back to Mumbai early next morning for medical assistance.

The fall of St. Marys

I made a trip to St. Marys Villa, Khandala last week. After much planning we finally made it- a strictly family affair. I took off after work from Bandra, hitched a ride at Dadar and walked into St. Marys at around 23:00 Hours on a Saturday Night to a room full of sleeping people. My sister alone lay awake reading a book and keeping watch on the plate of food she had salvaged for me from the unusually early 8 O'Clock dinner. Letting myself into camp after hours has now become a regular routine and I slipped inside the gates without awakening the curiosity of the pack of  stray hounds that guarded the place. I then walked through the deserted camp, scouting the empty corridors toward the south before finding our room in what used to be known as "The Chapel Wing".

Fr. Robin ruled the roost at St. Marys for over 25 years with his famous Family Camps, a masterpiece of human relationships nestled in the hills of Khandala creating the green house effect bringing to bloom good intentions, friendship, love and the spirit of generosity. For many of us, St. Marys became a reality that could pitch its tent in your thoughts and come to life. As I walked the deserted hallways of a time gone by, I recalled pictures embossed in my memory of people dancing in the quadrangle, the helpers without a room sleeping on beds in the corridors, cross dressed mascots in crazy costumes parading with flags and banners displaying assorted underwear in a bid to earn maximum points for their teams in the Mini-Olympics, Phantom, Archies, Commando comics and magazines strewn about the Lookout, families down by the well washing clothes on a sunny afternoon and kids catching fireflies by the bushes at night time to use as pocket lanterns.. The villa today has gone commercial lending itself out to large corporate outings and conferences but Fr. Robin had long since escaped the straitjacketed nature of the new establishment in search of new pastures moving like a gypsy to Kune Mission, Bombay House and now St. Stanislaus Villa.

When I was about 6 or 8 years old I'd first been to the camp with my entire family. We were housed in what was known as The Cozy Cottage along with a dozen other families but my sister was assigned to the Hens Coop meant for young women who came without their families under the matronly eye of a Mama Hen appointed to ensure the safety of her chicks. Colonized in a far corner away from the rest of the camp the gang at cozy cottage became a close group that met up in Bombay to picnic or party occasionally. The dilapidated structure now lay in ruin, in stark contrast to the beautified landscape of St Marys Villa. Gone were the line of bathrooms at the far end we flocked to and lined up outside after the games. In its place were self-contained rooms with bath rooms attached- a practical move. The lush green lawn in the center beckons but unfortunately is off limits to use for play. This old Jesuit Villa affords clean spacious rooms, good food and its proximity to the Khandala Market and Railway Station make it an ideal place to stay. The chapel  was locked so I couldn't visit and in any case its been transformed into a conference room with plastic moulded desk chairs replacing the pews and a curtain drawn to hide the Crucifix and Altar. This commercialization of the premises has made the place lose some of its charm and each piece of furniture (benches, tables, beds) bolted to its place showcased the managements fixation on policy and rules. Seemingly secure in its grill-work and barbed wire fencing this picture perfect setting had let something important escape.

It was a tight weekend but we relaxed at St Marys, enjoying the food and lazing around, except for a trip to Gupshup to pick up some essential fluids and stopping to chat up with some children angling by the lake. 

Fr. Robin Selwyn 2012

For those of you who'll look this up:

Fr. Robins alive and kicking as of this date.
There will be another camp (if life permits..!!)

I'met Fr. Robin this lent, when he gave a crisp lesson on books to read and study to a flock of believers who came to church one fine Wednesday to get their daily dose of the Bible post mass. However, little did they know they they'd have to do their homework instead!

 Fr. Robin nicely sliced the Bible in half with a few books to be studied (actually studied) and a few books to be read (casual reading) leaving all the attendees with a song on their lips & question in their minds "what went wrong?", "where is that blinking sermon?" But well Fr. RObin doesnt worrk that way! He makes you work for it. Which is what I like, He wont lay out for you (on a platter) parts of the Bible he likes but he'll urge and cajole you to seek & find hidden meaning in the Bible that actually appeals to you.

I' guess knowing him longer than most helps, as I was one of the few unruffled participants to that prayer service last Wednesday.after which we retired to an austere Vegetarian Dinner and conversation on things to come. We discussed, the near uncertain future, then things we've planned and things to be done. Quite long since we (that is Fr. Robin and me) didn't make a trip outside the city so we're planning that among other things.

see you around compadres...