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.