lazy Sunday afternoon .. (not really, but it's another good song title)

No walk today yet, but that's not a function of the weather. I was getting ready for same about 7.30am when Ajith rang to say his mother was unwell and he would have to visit her this afternoon when we had planned originally to go to the English language Mass. Instead, if I was ready by 8.30am, he would take me to the Little Flower Church on Perandoor Road, where I had attended the local parish priest's golden jubilee mass when I was here in August.

The Mass is in Malayalam and so I'm not able to join in fully, but after 50 years of on and off attending (albeit more off than on in recent times) the familiar rhythm meant that, at key points, I was able to recall the English equivalents and so be meaningfully present. The 8.35am Mass (as you might have guessed, dear reader, Ajith didn't pick me up until 8.45am and we weren't there until 8.55am, but that's alright said Ajith because it is only the priest's "speech" up to that point) is the children's mass (after which they have a compulsory two hour "sunday school" until about 11.30am). Leaving my sandals outside "God's house", as any self-respecting Keralan will do when visiting another's home, I sat, stood and knelt on the tiled floor near the door, about half way up the nave.

Given the language issue, and the fact that there was still 10 minutes of the priest's speech left after I arrived, I had time for reflection and took advantage of that time. At a time when much of the Western world is in the grips of a crisis of faith and church attendances are at historic lows, it was staggering to see an "ordinary" Sunday mass so well attended, with the (not small) Little Flower church overflowing (interestingly with men on the left side, women on the right and the children filling the middle section). Further, it was a congregation not merely in attendance but actively engaged in the service, focussed on the altar and the priest and ready to respond and/or sing as appropriate. It was the same at the English language Mass I attended (I can't remember whether it was the Infant Jesus Church, the St Francis Assisi Cathedral, or the St Mary's Basilica, which are all lined up along Broadway North behind the Police Commissioner's residence in the High Court district of Ernakulam) and I look forward to attending there again in the future.

After Mass we stopped at the Sarovaram Hotel on the Kochi NH-47 Bypass for breakfast and Ajith did his best to ensure I wouldn't need to eat for the rest of the day. He insisted I follow my (quite delicious) masala dosa with a rice cake and curry dish (I forget the name) which was equally yummy and then ordered a non-ghee based "small" dosa, with which to mop up the left over juices. Washed down with a couple of glasses of water and some very passable filtered coffee (properly served in stainless steel cups, and passed twice from the smaller to the larger before ingestion), I am now sitting here some five hours later with no interest in food, yummy or otherwise.

I was telling Ajith's wife Pria about his attempts to derail my dietary heroics on the short drive between their home (where we had dropped her off on the way to breakfast) and the supermarket across the road from the Little Flower church, and she had a good chuckle at that. While Ajith and Pria did their family shopping (or more properly, I think , while Pria did the shopping and Ajith "stood guard"), I had a chance to pick up some of the domestic items I'd been missing to date - dustpan and broom, tea towels, bath sponges, extra soap, and wash cloths - along with some more "snacks" (yes, very naughty of me I know, dear reader, but they're my only vice at the moment).

Another point in passing is that related to the language that I have mentioned several times previously, like Jararaj's "complaint" with the auto and the "parcel" description for take-away (which, of course, the Americans refer to, in turn, as "take out"). George Bernard Shaw once described England and America as "two countries separated by a common language". I'm of a view that today, apart from Australia, we certainly could include India as the third or fourth country in this troika or quartet. I saw today the sign outside a "hotel" (every where there are restaurants/cafes/eateries labelled as hotels, whether large or small and whether or (mostly) not they have accommodation) the sign advertising "Homely food". I've never thought of food as ugly before, but there you go - this place has "homely" food. I wonder how you determine the homeliness of food?

By now it was 11.30am and it was time to pick up the children from their Sunday school. This was duly done and, with Pria and children squeezed in the back of the Suzuki with my shopping (including the broom), it was back to Chez Lamond and for them to enjoy the rest of the day as a family. Ajith and Pria are, quite rightly, proud of their elder son and younger daughter, and this was reflected the breadth and brightness of their respective smiles. At Chez Lamond, it was waves, a quick trip up the stairs to the front door and inside to put away the shopping and slip into the mundu. Now at 3 o'clock that's probably enough from me for the day.