CHAPTER 2 The sweltering heat of the day had subsided.  With sunset, a soft breeze blew over the land.  The farm that was a veritable beehive by day, now felt silent, except for conversation of five Jesuit priests who lived in the cottage there with their three dogs.  The farm hands had retired to their own huts, scattered on the outskirts of the 40-acre farm.   The priests had just finished their evening meal.  It was by no means a frugal affair.  They lived hardy lives, and expended every bit of their energy in the execution of their work on the farm, in addition to their pastoral duties.  They had wonderful appetites, which they pampered with the produce of the farm.  After a while, Brother James excused himself, and whistled to his dog Tony, to accompany him on his evening constitutional.  The walk was his way of relaxing.  A couple of hours to himself in the darkening gloom of night was a way of taking his mind off the rigorous work on the farm.  The other priests thought he spent this time in meditation.  But for Brother James, this was a period of escape, a surreptitious venture back into the world he had renounced.  He let his mind wander back to the home he had once loved so dearly, the good old folk who had such ambitious plans for him, only to be bitterly disillusioned when James chose the priesthood.  His brothers had sneered at him and called him ”Holy Moses.”  His sisters had refused to believe him and thought it was a joke.   But James had his way.  Despite vehement predictions that he wouldn’t last for more than six months in a seminary, James had completed two years, and was completely satisfied with the vocation he had chosen.  His parents however, had never forgiven him, and severed relations with their son soon after he joined the seminary.  It was their stubborn attitude that distressed him.  They were in his thoughts every evening, when he took his solitary walk. “I would like to go home sometime,” he thought, “And assure Mum and Dad that I am quite happy in the life that I have chosen.” But with it came the picture of an authoritarian father and a hysterical mother, his snobbish sisters, and his prosperous brothers. “Perhaps it will be better if I wait another year before I see them.  I’m sure I’ll be stronger in my faith by then, and better equipped to ward off their criticisms.”   James walked on in the deepening silence of the evening.  The farm was situated in a desolate quarter of the district.  There was not a trace of civilization for miles around.  Most of the neighboring farmers turned in at dusk, after the day’s work.  Besides, wild animals often lurked around at night.   Far down the road, he saw the lights of an approaching vehicle.  As a rule, motorists avoided this road at night, as it was unsuitable for vehicular traffic, with its rough and jagged surface, and potholes of all dimensions.  Besides, there were no streetlights, and the place was hazardous by its very loneliness. “A daring creature who braves these roads by night!” thought James.  The vehicle whizzed past him, and James saw that it was one of those old-fashioned jalopies, but was surprised that it could travel at such speed.   He walked on for a few more furlongs, then turned back to the farm. “I’ll have to be up with the rising sun tomorrow,” he thought, “The vineyard has to be watered.  Then there’s a patch of land that needs to be ploughed.” Brother James had been specially deputed to the farm, as he was a graduate in Agricultural Science, and loved farming.  He was the only Indian priest among the Spanish Brothers, and the farm hands had a special affection for him.  As a fellow countryman, he understood their problems, and was sympathetic to their grievances.   As they approached the farm, Tony grew excited, and kept up a constant barking.  He dashed off in the direction of the vineyard, then hurried back to Brother James, beckoning, wagging his tail, and showing the way. “Oh Tony!” said James irritably, “I’m too tired for play tonight. I’m turning in to sleep.”   Seeing that James had no intention of following him, Tony became persistent.  He tugged at his trousers, and whined pitifully that James finally conceded, and followed him.  They had just reached the vineyard, when a low, muffled moan reached his ears.  He almost stumbled over the inert heap on the ground. Quickly, he flashed his torch light “God!” he gasped, as he saw the figure of a young girl, mouth gagged, and hands tied behind her back, rolling uncomfortably on the ground.  He undid her hands gently, and removed the cloth that had almost stifled her breath.  James was in a quandary.  Ought he to touch a woman? “I better summon Father Bernard and let him do what he thinks best,” he thought.  To the girl he said, “Wait here a while.  I’ll run to the farm and bring help.” But the girl pleaded, “Don’t leave me alone.  He may come back and take me away.” She held on to his leg, making it impossible for him to move. “Okay, Okay, don’t cry,” he comforted, “I’m not going to leave you.” He helped her to her feet, but she was too weak to move, and stumbled after a few steps. “There’s no use taking her to the farm house,” he thought,  “We can’t keep her in our quarters.  Father Bernard will probably send her off to the government hospital, and the girl is in no state to be moved.” He carried her in his arms, and walked towards the ‘coolie’ quarters.  She was as light as a feather.  From time to time, she moaned and buried her face in his comforting chest.  James felt a strange tenderness for this helpless creature.  He had never held a girl in his arms before, and it was ironical that as a priest, he was doing so, even though it was only a gesture of mercy.                                                                  To be continued…