Where is you?
Compliments are not that difficult to get but an honest one very hard to come by. I have learned that from my life and so have I think most of you. Both are welcome things bringing freshness and new vigor to any person’s life. But sometimes we or our dear ones get unexpected ones that can bring a different sweet satisfaction, immeasurable. One such, my sweet wife received is more than worthy to be the subject for a journal.
We were having our church elections on that Sunday. My wife had been the Church Warden (an equivalent to Trustee), the first female one to hold the post in the almost century old history of our CSI diocese, a great honor from God and an unexpected achievement for us. Being at the helm of such a big parish for the tenure of three years was not an easy job, I can vouch that. And for me, I was glad she had finished her first tenure, rather satisfactorily, but much more than that to a lot of our church members that Sunday was waiting to prove to me.
The campaigning was very fervent the throng in the church proved, with the inside and outside premises cramped with ‘never-seen-before’ faces. Even the vestries were overflowing and in one of those crowded ones, my wife with her team of females were busy making and serving refreshments. Accidentally I landed up in there and interestingly stood watching the activities. The vicars and the election officials were at their wits end trying to control the crowd who were all eager to go home ‘now’, after casting their decisions.
One lonely ‘never-seen-before’ man was in our vestry going through the different ‘panel slips’. I could make out from his face that he was completely lost with the unfamiliar names on the panel slips. Each voter had to vote for about eighteen persons for various positions in the church committee. It seemed he was sure of only a few names that he would vote. That was when I noticed his tensed expressions. He would look at one slip and turn his face towards my wife, then another slip and then back to my wife’s face. This kept on happening many times. My interest in him grew more in ‘parlé’ with his tension. Just when I was about to interfere to help him, he walked over to my dear, and showing the slips he had in his hand and in rather respectful worry asked her…
……. “Kochammé (aunty)… where is you?”
There was a slight twinkle in my wife’s eyes while in mine, happy tears.
My wife went back to her chores as if nothing happened and I, out, thinking…
“May be I should ask myself often… Where is you?”
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To my dear wife with congratulations.
She won on top.
June 20, 2011