“That’s my point, I suppose. This year, I really saw them as people. I was immature before. I understood for the first time that they weren’t always blind, or always lame. Maybe they were born normal like me before a disease affected them. I thought, This can happen to me! It left me frightened, shaken, long after we sat down.”
“I noticed your disquiet. But I thought it was because of our Lenin.” Mariamma blushes. Big Ammachi puts her arm around her namesake. Mariamma is so much taller than her grandmother, but she loves the feeling of her grandmother’s arm around her. “Molay, it takes a special person to see those poor beggars as human beings. Many people never notice. As though they are invisible. It speaks well of your maturity. We should be scared and never take our health for granted. We must pray and give thanks each day for good health.”
“Ammachi, when that woman near us collapsed, I was terrified. I could hardly breathe. I wanted to run. But you . . . you went right to her. I’m ashamed.”
“Chaa! What did I do except lay her down, fan her face? Don’t be ashamed.” They ride in silence for a while. Big Ammachi says, “I’ve seen more than my share of suffering and tragedy in my life, molay. I was always helpless. When your grandfather was sick, I could do nothing. When we pulled JoJo out of the water, if we had had a hospital close by . . . who knows? When Baby Mol gets ill, you know how far we go to find a doctor. That’s why I got up on stage, Mariamma. Because I don’t want us to be helpless or frightened. Doctors know what to do. A hospital can care for the sick. That’s why I want a hospital closer to our people. I’m old now, and so that’s all I can do.”
“Maybe it was better when I didn’t notice the beggars,” Mariamma says. “Now I’ll be walking around frightened that I might go blind, or get fits, or collapse like that woman.”
“Listen, she fainted, that’s all. It was hot, she may not have drunk enough water. It happens all the time. Your father sees blood and gets faint. I’ve been alive long enough that I recognize fainting.” After a while, her grandmother turns to her. “Mariamma, sometimes when you are most afraid, when you feel most helpless, that is when God is pointing out a path for you.”
“You mean like wanting a hospital close by?”
“No, I’m talking about you. Your fears. Fear comes from not knowing. If you know what it is you are seeing, if you know what to do, then you won’t be afraid. If . . .” Her grandmother trails off.
“You mean like being a doctor?”
“Well, some people may not be cut out for it. It’s unnatural for them. I can’t tell you what to do. But if I could live this life one more time, that’s what I would want to do. Out of my fear, out of helplessness. In order to be less fearful, and to really help. You should pray about it. Only you can know.” Big Ammachi hesitates. “If that is what God leads you to, I can tell you, your grandmother would be very happy.”
Mariamma snuggles against the familiar shoulder, thinking over what she heard. In a year and a half, she’ll leave for Alwaye College to start her pre-degree. She had planned to study zoology. But if she’s moved and frightened by human suffering and disease, why study weaver ants and tadpoles? Why not medicine? If God is pointing her in some direction, she wishes God would point more clearly. If one imagines what God is saying, is that the same as God actually speaking?
She feels altered by the time they get home. Talking with Big Ammachi, addressing her fears, has brought her comfort and a curious stillness of her mind, a sensation that lingers. Could it be that God spoke to her just now through her grandmother? She feels no compulsion to talk about it further, not with Big Ammachi, nor with her father. She will pray, too, but mostly she’ll try to hold on to this feeling of stillness. Whether God has spoken or has yet to speak, she’s at peace.
The Hospital Fund created in the wake of the Maramon Convention carries the hopes and expectations of the thousands who attended the unforgettable sermon by Rory McGillicutty (and Uplift Master). That event, now referred to as the Revelation of the Hospital, is followed by an even bigger miracle: a generous donation of 150 acres of land at Parambil in the heart of old Travancore. It makes it hard to think of reasons to put the hospital anywhere else.
More than a year later, when the time comes for Mariamma to leave for Alwaye College, she’s certain: she will set her sights on medical school. When she shares her decision with the family, her grandmother’s joy is something to behold. Her father couldn’t be happier. He says, “My mother wanted that for me, but I just wasn’t cut out for it. You were destined for this.”
Big Ammachi takes Mariamma aside to give her a gold necklace and cross. “Years ago, when JoJo died, my heart broke. In my sorrow, I prayed to God. I said, ‘Please cure this, or send us someone who can.’ Molay, I’m going to tell you something I never told you before, something I would leave out each time you wanted to hear the story of the day you were born, and lighting the velakku. The truth is I prayed that God would point you to medicine. But I didn’t want you weighed down with my expectation. I’m glad it was revealed to you. You know that I pray for you every night and I always will. I’m too old to go with you, and besides, I can’t leave Baby Mol, but your Big Ammachi will be with you every step of the way. Even when I’m long gone, you carry my name. Never forget: I am with you always.”
CHAPTER 62
Tonight
1967, Parambil
Not long after Mariamma’s departure, Baby Mol wakes from dreamless sleep and sits bolt upright, her pudgy hands clutching at the window bars. Seeing her daughter’s terrified expression, gasping for air, sweat pouring down her face, Big Ammachi raises the alarm, certain her precious baby is dying. Philipose and Anna Chedethi come running. The veins on Baby Mol’s forehead and neck bulge like rope, and bubbly froth comes out of her mouth when she tries to cough. But what is most shocking for a mother to witness is the fear on her fearless child’s face. Gradually, as Baby Mol sucks in the fresh night air, she recovers. She falls asleep on a chair by the window, propped up on pillows.
By morning, in a hired car, they’re at a government clinic an hour and a half away. If only the new hospital were already finished! The lady doctor gives Baby Mol an injection to remove fluid from her swollen legs and prescribes a daily diuretic and digitalis. She thinks Baby Mol’s stunted growth and bent spine have restricted her lungs; over time that has put a strain on her heart, and now fluid is damming up behind it.
After the visit, Baby Mol pees many times, and that night she rests comfortably. Only Big Ammachi lies awake, watching her little girl’s breathing. The household is asleep, so she converses with the one who keeps vigil with her. “We never starved, Lord, never wanted for anything. I didn’t take my blessings for granted. But there’s always something, Lord, isn’t there? Every year there’s a new worry. I’m not complaining! It’s just that I imagined there’d come a time when I wouldn’t have anything more to worry about.” She laughs. “Yes, I know it was silly to expect that. This is life, isn’t it? Just as you intended it to be. If there were no problems then I suppose I’d be in heaven, not Parambil. Well, I’ll take Parambil. The hospital coming here is all your doing—don’t think that I’m not grateful. Still, now and then, Lord, I could use some peace. A bit of heaven on earth, that’s all I’m saying.”