Leon Bent –
Come September! It’s yesterday once more, for me! I simply bask in its aura, its divine melieu. On the twenty-sixth day of the month, the dark, watery womb of my dearly beloved mother, of revered memory, opened me to the ‘light.’ On the first day, according to the Creation account of the Bible, God created light. His eyes were filled with its ‘goodness,’ and so was my ‘new-born’, delicate, naked self!
During this time of the year, I simply sit in the bosom of ‘Mother nature’s bounty,’ taking in
It’s medicated, therapeutic air. The filigreed, vividly fluorescent, giant canopy of tamarind ‘greens’ draws me into its refreshing, yet, ancient embrace. The leafy branches of a century-old ‘karji’ tree dance delightfully in a gesture of welcome. The driving, pelting, sensuous rain, a joy to behold, quickens my ‘spirit.’ I experience the richness of God’s handiwork vividly, as I sit in my “study,” lost in reverie, contemplation. Oh, yes! The impishly cascading, crystal chandelier-like, falling ice-like poetry, of whispering waterfalls, here, there, everywhere, in my mind’s eye, take me on a wonder-filled trip. I am in no-where, some-where ‘Spirit’ land.
Many years ago, at the crack of dawn, I found myself on ‘Jambool Hill’ that rises conspicuously by the Ambarnath-Badlapur road, surrounded by a misty, silver-lined, dark cloud-kissed chain of towering hills, as far as eye could see. I bent down, even as I stood on the dazzling throne of God, drawn in admiration and awe at a cluster of gorgeous, nay, exotic caterpillars. I marvelled at their passionate urgency on vital personal growth, as they gorged on ambrosial, shimmering, juicy shrubs, despite my piercing, prying eyes. This enthralling spectacle was food for my soul. I gazed and gazed at the exotic voracious creatures, which reminded me of my own intense struggle to become a free-floating, beautiful butterfly. The spectacle was fleeting, but would easily outdo a month-long “Retreat” in spiritual impact. Bishop Emeritus Alex Dias sfx, of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands and Fr. Ubaldo Fernandes sfx, will vouch for this fact! They, too, like me, basked in God’s glory. His thunder-and-lightening presence enveloped us. The threesome was caught up, and savour to this very day, the Mount Tabor, ‘Transfiguration experience!’
Quite some years ago, three Bishops were travelling to Nasik by car. The recitation of the Rosary was on. No flight of imagination, this! One old, saintly Bishop, quite oblivious of the world, chanted devoutly: Hail Mary, full of grace….What a sight! Cows grazing on the green, green, hill slopes, the Lord is with you….Look, He’s sitting cross-legged, Indian style, on a lotus in that tranquil pond over there, blessed are you among women….Ah, watch those rustic women swaying back to their hamlets, as if, perfectly choreographed, balancing two-three brass vessels of water on their absolutely ‘still-silent’ heads, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus…. A cool, nonchalant, ‘amen,’ his companions responded, as if awakened from a lingering reverie. Oh, ‘amen’ they reiterated, it is the eight of September!
From the depths of Mary’s virginal purity, Jesus was born into history, to link heaven and earth, the divine and human, spirit and matter, the profound and mundane. The simple Bishop had brought out this mystical interrelatedness to a nicety!
I take you down memory lane again. When I was courting a sprightly teenaged Lorraine, almost forty-nine years ago, I had a ‘Rosary’ in glorious September-bloom, on the terrace of my sprawling ancestral bungalow, in Orlem, Malad. A hundred and more varieties of roses were a feast even for the untrained eye. At dusk, one day, a shapely, dapper flower, invited me hauntingly, bewitchingly into its vermilion, curvy cavern. As I entered the rose, I felt a rich scent hovering around me, like a current in the crisp, caressing, evening air. Even as I breathed in the fresh, subtle perfume, I was led down, down, down into a titillating, ravishing, resplendent rose-red city, where I saw, heard and smelt intricate bursts of brilliant light and design, a ‘son-et-lumiere’ show, with hushed, melodious tones of the ‘Beatles’ all-time favourite, “Yesterday,” in the hazy background.
As I progressed deeper into it-her, I realized we were dancing and prancing together, to the scent of the music, the rhythm of colours, to the breath we shared. Then, suddenly, from a thousand miles away, a muted, almost fading, yet, familiar voice kept beckoning: Leon…Leon! Who is it, I mused? Was it my most beloved mother, Betsy, called to the Lord twenty-six monsoons ago? I was breathing heavily and faster now, when all of a sudden raindrops mingled with my tears, and brought me out of the strangely romantic, enchanting rose-world. I welcomed the light drizzle with arms wide open, like a lover. “Lo and behold, the rain!” I exclaimed gleefully! Oh! Wow! It was, indeed, my sweet Lorraine!
In the innermost depths, in the dark abyss, there are no boundaries. Only mother and child, in complete symbiosis! The first and the last world is the womb. The only paradise we can regain is the one we have lost. The ‘nine-month mystery’ is meant to be utterly blissful, but, more often than not, it suffers terrible turbulence, like a bumpy monsoon ride, down Mumbai’s horrifying pot-holed roads.
The birthday of Mother Mary reminds me of the trauma of birth. A child is the form in which the flesh brings forth its promise. Its bud is ‘eros.’ Unfortunately, not many infants enter this world unscarred. Wounds inflicted by the ‘Family Tree’ bear a silent testimony to the broken promise of love. Every crisis in later years, stretches, pushes and impels a person into a larger world; an invitation to become ‘spirit,’ to move to a higher level. Without being born again and again in the Virgin’s fresh, unsullied, pure and chaste depths, there is no journey, no spirit, no love!
If, as an adult, I have not remained like a ‘delinquent child’, if I am not folded, stapled and mutilated (psychologically and spiritually), perverse, twisted and gnarled, it is because I have left my ‘childhood scars’ in the womb of an artisan God, in the pristine cave of nature, in the voluptuous vortex of a red rose, in the vaginal recesses of Mother Mary, in the heavenly vault where my mother is, in the heart (hearth) of the matrimonial oneness I enjoy with Lorraine!
Come September, I mingle with my many ‘creators’, especially the Virgin Mary, who birthed the Son of God, the Son of Man and me! She is the ‘archetype’ (the original model) for all mothers! Each day, for innumerable years now, I ‘pray’ all the mysteries of the Rosary, in what is for me, a kind of Marian pilgrimage, with my earthly mother, Betsy, on my left and Mother Mary on my right. And, in a rather unmistakable way, I often sense a mystical union of flesh and flesh, spirit and spirit.
Now, this gold nugget! September offers me a poetic vista of life – a view guided by the heart, alive with the spirit and nourished in love. Its thirty days are prized beyond platinum. The ninth month of the year, very distinctly, throws up the rare and precious goodness of the Garden of Eden! It is like a fantastic seashell. When I apply my ear to its lips, I hear a perpetual, mysterious, buzz from the waves beyond the shore!
And this final flourish! This season of mists and mellow-fruitfulness contains the elixir of immortality, at its very core! It offers me special moments, privileged situations, timely (kairotic) gifts, magical events.
The last word: May the ‘Womb that is September,’ adds sugar and spice, and sanctify everyone’s life too!
Leon Bent is an ex-Seminarian and studied the Liberal Arts and Humanities, and Philosophy, from St. Pius X College, Mumbai. He holds Masters Degree in English Literature and Aesthetics. He has published three Books and have 20 on the anvil. He has two extensively “Researched” Volumes to his name: Hail Full of Grace and Matrimony: The Thousand Faces of Love. He won The Examiner, Silver Pen Award, 2000 for writing on Social Issues, the clincher being a Researched Article on Gypsies in India, published in an issue of the (worldwide circulation) Vidyajyoti Journal of Theological Reflection, New Delhi. On April, 28, 2018, Leon received the Cardinal Ivan Dias Award for a research paper in Mariology.