Scenes from a local nativity

Anuradha Sengupta’s little Jesus plays to the gallery

I first met Agnes on the ferry from Corjuem to Aldona. Corjuem was this little Goan village I stayed in for a year. My son was born in a massive, old, dilapidated Portuguese villa in the village.

It had us, the human beings, and all manner of wildlife — scorpions, snakes, huge black spiders… Occasionally a snakeskin would drop off the ceiling just like that.

We would go on weekly trips to the market in Mapuca, using the ferry to cross the river. Agnes lived in Corjuem with her two daughters. We never knew where her husband was.

Every Sunday, Agnes would be on that ferry. My son was just three months old — a tiny wrapped-up bundle. It was a Sunday ritual for Agnes to take the bundle from me and hold him till we crossed the ferry.

It was a week to Christmas eve when Agnes told me the villagers were organising a nativity play. And they needed a baby Jesus.

Could they have Abhimanyu, my son, playing the part? Baby Jesus? No other problem but baby Abhi was wont to ‘go’ every so often those days and we couldn’t have such accidents in a nativity play, could we?

The rehearsals started. Every morning after feed time, we would set off for Agnes’s house. Sometimes the troupe turned up at our villa. Abhi was not exactly a model baby Jesus.

He raved and ranted at the invasion. He refused to stay in Mother Mary’s arms for more than two seconds. And he seemed to wet his diapers more often. I could see it wasn’t working out too well. I offered to pull him out of the play but the others wouldn’t hear of it. Baby Jesus was going to be Abhi. Or the play wouldn’t happen.

When Christmas eve dawned, I had a feeling of doom. Abhi was dressed in his usual swaddle of white linen wrapped around him. I took the middle seats of Row 2 and counted the minutes to 8 pm, when the show would start.

Soon enough, the village priest took centre stage and announced the play. My heart missed a beat to see my little fellow come in sleeping peacefully with Mother Mary while I was standing by the bay with the diapers.

One after another the narrators siad their lines. Not a squeak from baby Abhi. Joyously, he played his role to perfection. Maybe a star shone on him that night, a star was born. I only know that I took back those diapers home, unused.