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Germane a ‘Poona girl” travelled

many a path to find the one she


sought –relevance. From joining
Daughter of darknessi
the mission of healing with the
Medical Mission Sisters, to moving
Unseen she just wanted to be
out of their institutions to work
Detached, silent, from us -her we
with a Jesuit missionary in the
In search of love
Santhal Adivasi homeland, to
She went aground
moving further out into the forest
And grew a tree with fruits of love
of Hazaribagh in Jharkhand where
she finally settled to work and be
No trumpets, no fuss, no flatter
one with them in revered relevance.
A messenger minus the clatter
Their being, was all she lived to be.
In the twenty odd years we knew
Their flesh, their word, their humanity
each other we could meet on not
Enliven with her humble humility
more than three or four occasions.
One with them in their eternity
Yet I remember well that we never
exchanged more than a few dozen
For Sarhulii, she called us all.
words. But she conveyed enough for
“Come, Come ye all”
me to know her more deeply than
“Partake of the Mahuaiii fall”
she probably guessed.
“Spring has come and so has my call”
Stubbornly determined she stuck
deep there to serve a people being Covered by a dense crowd
dispossessed and pauperised by the There she hid
outside world. To empower them Peeping though heaps of shroudiv
she built a school, a boarding, a A teasing wink, yellow turmeric paste,
chain of health clinics and micro Her beautiful brown face
credit groups for women. Was all she bared in that haste

Silly enough to risk her own health And then they came en masse
needs that finally shortened her To rescue her back, after mass
precious life she died on 5th April 08. A mass, so genuine and germane
At her funeral as I stood in that From the concluded ritual profane
deep forest experiencing such glory One people, one body, hoisted her
such bonding and such blindness of It just couldn’t be any grander
the religion of my birth, I just could Such attention she once detested
not help penning these feelings on Now in slumber she just couldn’t resist it
the blackboard of my mind. I owe Yelling multitudes marched in rounds
this to her - the one who may never Drummers, trumpeters around the grounds
be remembered in history (and I am
sure couldn’t have cared less), but No Saints go marching here
who went on to make it……… No heaven’s inn to get in
No burning hell too to fear
As saintly women anointed her
To be their new ancestor
th
Xavier Dias 6 April 2008

i
The Adivasis of Jharkhand have been an unacknowledged people and kept in the darkness of any human rights.
ii
The Santhal festival of spring
iii
A beautiful spring flower of the Mahua tree a staple food as well as used to make alcohol.
iv
The number of shrouds people brought to cover her on her final journey was overwhelming

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