Sunday's weren't always Sundae's.

On weekends, I enjoy sitting at the riverside near my home.

There is nothing more relaxing than listening to the flow of water and quite often these times my mind wanders in rudderless thoughts. So last Sunday I was lazing near the beach and somehow pressed the rewind button of my memories tape recorder. It took me to the time when I used to attend Sunday class at the Lourdes’s church.

(A 10-year-old boy has written this post and author barely recognizes this character. Please respect his un-intelligent rant and which is not meant to be offensive in anyway)

* Sometime in the 1990’s at Trivandrum*

I was of the devout types who loved to occupy the seat farthest from the Altar. You know, just in case the Priest caught me yawning. Sunday classes were loved and hated at the same time...Loved coz that meant escape from the school books and homework’s...And hated coz of 3 kilometers of cycling, the last leg of which was a steep climbing road...Since the church seemed to stand on a hill, it almost felt like I was the Lord carrying two kurushu (my bike and bro) at the same time. If it weren’t for lack of opportunities I could have been Indian version of Lance Armstrong having already won back-to-back titles in the prestigious Tour de Muttada*. And after that tiring hike I wouldn’t be exactly in a mood to kneel down on my already wobbling knees and tell Lord...’Thank you for all the good things in life!!’

Anyways for the information of un-informed Sunday class is preceded by the mass, which normally runs for like 1.5 hours, but often felt like eternity. Infact I was the biggest fan of the priest who had the shortest sermon and sang abridged hymns. No wonder I have seen many folks doing the sign of the cross more or less resembling a blinding karate action…At times I have even slept standing like a horse during the mass…The only interesting thing I remember doing in the church was turning my neck around 45 to 60 degrees towards my left in undetectable swift movements to check out any cute girl on the other side. But even that has its own logistic issues like a familiar uncle or aunty who might be out there as spies. After about like 1.5 years…err…I mean hours the mass is over…Am so happy that I would be eager to clench my fists and shout.’ YES…FINALLY!!’. Am sure many elders out there wanted too...but they were pretending not.

So after the mass bro and myself go to respective classes. We would be told Bible stories and taught moral lessons through these classes…My favorite Bible stories happened to be 'Noah’s Ark' and the story of ‘The Good shepherd’. Other favorites were ‘David versus Goliath’ which I consider truly inspirational if you are planning to deal with bullies in school...That story simply inspired me to throw stones at certain people…whoever said Bible is all about love.
Another character that I liked was 'Samson' ...I wanted to be like him and he was my favorite super hero after giant robot…Most of Shaji Kailas movies are inspired by the Samson story if you carefully study the finer nuances.

Now here comes the funny part. I joined the Sunday class quite late…Therefore when I joined 1st standard, I was already in 3rd at regular school. So that meant I was like the big brother in class. It also meant I could show off among them the teeny weeny kids. Many Sunday class teachers were ruthlessly harassed when I asked questions like ‘Did Jesus use fevicol to fix the ear of that soldier when St Peter’s cut it off’…Such horrible jokes made me a hero in the class though later neutralized by someone at home called Dad who proved hero’s can cry during certain intimidating circumstances.

When I reached 5th standard I met with a major bottleneck in my attempt at biblical prowess. Sunday class exams started taking shape of written format and that spelt disaster for me… Being student of a central govt school meant they dint teach the native language. My knowledge was limited to spoken Malayalam and was barely good at reading (which often caused blunder’s during Bible reading at home like...’Yeshu paatu paadi marichu…instead of ‘Yeshu paadu pettu marichu’)…So in a remarkable turning point in my academic history I took the exam where I answered the Malayalam questions in English…But the trouble happened when question pertained to certain hymns were asked and my translation of them would have made classic comedy jingles. The extra effects along with the hymns made it sound like contemporary rock.

‘Hello Lord…Forgive me...Oh…Oh..forgive me. "

Also I also took such exams to express creatively and personal interest in checking IQ levels of priests.

Questions like ‘Which Sabha are you from’ would be answered with cryptic clues like

Unfortunately in very tragic circumstances I failed in fifth standard.

So by the time I reached 7th standard I was writing the boards in school. It also meant that I was exposed to facts that it is possible to take the bus to the cinema, catch the latest mohanlal movies and reach back home perfectly in time in synchronization with the Sunday class. But after two such trips the guiltiness factor took over and I returned to the ‘kunjuaadukkal’ attending Sunday class. The only saving grace was that my baccha classmates showed tremendous respect and addressed me as chettaa** for being the senior most citizen in class... Soon I stopped going to Sunday class after age caught up with me …board exams, tuitions and such bad things happened in life which ending my biblical career.

Even now, I believe I would have made a good priest.

I am simply effusing with goodness, grace and appetite for good food. It is sheer bad luck that the clergy missed out this wonderful man who could have been destined to be the Pope one day.

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*wikipedia link currently stopped for data update and website is down for routine maintenance.sorry for the inconvenience.But i swear it is world famous.

**elder bro