Gomantak Times, Goa
September 17, 2008
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
MY TRIBUTE TO FR. EDWIN
PREMNAGAR: FR. EDWIN’S LABOUR OF LOVE
This tribute appeared on Gomantak Times, Oct 06, 2007
If you happen to visit Pope John XXIII High School in Quepem, past the main gate and the basketball court and immediately to your right, you will see the bust of Fr. Edwin D’Souza, the founder of Boys Town, against a backdrop depicting the various faces and facets of a man and a missionary who shaped and moulded thousands of young lives, including mine. He was my guru, my teacher and my principal.
Short in height and bearded, Fr. Edwin D’Souza was a towering personality and the very ‘body and soul’ of a unique experiment called the Boys Town in Quepem. Contrary to what the name suggests, and thankfully, Boys Town was a co-ed school, where many of us had our first ‘crush’ on girls, and to some, the beautiful babes even became the very reason to get up in the morning and go to school!
With units as diverse as poultry, welfare, multipurpose and the primary and secondary school, including a boarding school for the orphans and the less fortunate, the Institution was, in the words of Fr. Edwin, “a miracle of God’s love and a proof that at least somewhere the church in general is alive to the needs of the poor and the outcast.”
Before coming to Quepem, Fr. Edwin had worked a similar miracle of God’s love at Sarvodaya in Khanapur, Belgaum and his students, even now, recollect the magic he weaved with his godly presence and perseverance.
Hailing from Saligao, Fr. Edwin was a man far ahead of his times and embraced, as the years went by, everything that was Indian. He exchanged his stiff-collared cassock for a cotton kurta in saffron and took great delight in calling himself Swami Premananda Naik Salganvkar. And the principal who once took us to task in the school assembly for having allowed our hair to grow over our ears, now began, much to our surprise, letting his hair down so low that they touched his shoulders and he began to look like a real swamiji! Even the tabernacle in the school chapel was mounted on a cement elephant to convey through an Indian symbol that in Jesus alone one found real ‘strength’.
The campus was called ‘Premnagar’ and truly, it was a labour of love. Fr. Edwin lived his dream passionately and we young students saw the school blossoming, with new blocks being added every year. However, there came a day, many years after we had already passed out of the school, when he ‘gifted’ Premnagar to the Society of Don Bosco, whose founder, like Fr. Edwin, was fired with a spirit to work for the young and the poor.
Years later, when I built my own little dwelling place and called it ‘The Mustard Seed’, Fr. Edwin, by then his love for everything Indian having taken deep roots, did not fail to express his displeasure and subtly remarked during one of his visits to us, “Borem American nanv ghatlam mure ! ”
Fr. Edwin was both witty and innovative. Once, during a joint religion class involving the tenth and the eleventh standard students, he asked a rather difficult question and stumbled upon our much guarded secret. Twelve of us senior and supposedly clever students had been taking advantage of the crowded class to bunk many times and play volleyball on the ground nearby. Visibly hurt and disappointed, he had left the class half way through but not before leaving an urgent message: that the ‘twelve disciples’ must immediately see the Master!
Fr. Edwin was a great teacher who firmly believed that if you spared the rod, you were bound to spoil the child. He literally thought us English with an iron hand and a couple of tough sticks when the going became tough. Once the results of the tests were declared, Fr. Edwin would begin his dreaded ‘evaluation’ process. The blackboard would be divided into two halves and papers of those who fared badly would be ‘publicly’ examined.
The monitor’s duty was to copy directly and ditto from the paper a part of the essay or the letter on one half of the blackboard. Then the students would be summoned and over a sound thrashing ‘corrected’ on the other ‘half’ of the board. The spellings, the commas, the grammar. The i’s we failed to dot and the t’s we missed to cross. With the beating becoming increasingly difficult to bear, we wrecked our brains together and soon found a way out. A day after the results were declared, most of those who feared the ‘shock treatment’ would come heavily padded with extra pants and banians underneath and as the stick landed ferociously, the student would jump and cry and act his part out.
I was one of those fortunate students who frequently found himself on Team Pope John participating in the elocution and spelling-bee competitions. For a number of years, I was the one barking out orders like vishram! and savdhan! during the school assembly. Naturally, I soon made a mark at village weddings and functions as a ‘gifted’ speaker.
Fr. Edwin D’Souza died on 27.10.1996, ten days after his seventy eight birthday. On the day of his funeral on 2.11.1996, at the Eucharistic Mass which was attended amongst others by His Excellency, Rev. Filipe Neri Ferrao, then Auxiliary Bishop of Goa, I had the privilege to address the large gathering with the survatechim utram. The passing away of a colossus is always a huge loss and Quepem was mourning. That day, I spoke with feelings and a voice I never realized I possessed. Everyone in the audience listened to me with rapt attention.
Except Fr. Edwin. He had by then ‘departed’ to another planet. After having fulfilled his mission here on Mother Earth.
***
This tribute appeared on Gomantak Times, Oct 06, 2007
If you happen to visit Pope John XXIII High School in Quepem, past the main gate and the basketball court and immediately to your right, you will see the bust of Fr. Edwin D’Souza, the founder of Boys Town, against a backdrop depicting the various faces and facets of a man and a missionary who shaped and moulded thousands of young lives, including mine. He was my guru, my teacher and my principal.
Short in height and bearded, Fr. Edwin D’Souza was a towering personality and the very ‘body and soul’ of a unique experiment called the Boys Town in Quepem. Contrary to what the name suggests, and thankfully, Boys Town was a co-ed school, where many of us had our first ‘crush’ on girls, and to some, the beautiful babes even became the very reason to get up in the morning and go to school!
With units as diverse as poultry, welfare, multipurpose and the primary and secondary school, including a boarding school for the orphans and the less fortunate, the Institution was, in the words of Fr. Edwin, “a miracle of God’s love and a proof that at least somewhere the church in general is alive to the needs of the poor and the outcast.”
Before coming to Quepem, Fr. Edwin had worked a similar miracle of God’s love at Sarvodaya in Khanapur, Belgaum and his students, even now, recollect the magic he weaved with his godly presence and perseverance.
Hailing from Saligao, Fr. Edwin was a man far ahead of his times and embraced, as the years went by, everything that was Indian. He exchanged his stiff-collared cassock for a cotton kurta in saffron and took great delight in calling himself Swami Premananda Naik Salganvkar. And the principal who once took us to task in the school assembly for having allowed our hair to grow over our ears, now began, much to our surprise, letting his hair down so low that they touched his shoulders and he began to look like a real swamiji! Even the tabernacle in the school chapel was mounted on a cement elephant to convey through an Indian symbol that in Jesus alone one found real ‘strength’.
The campus was called ‘Premnagar’ and truly, it was a labour of love. Fr. Edwin lived his dream passionately and we young students saw the school blossoming, with new blocks being added every year. However, there came a day, many years after we had already passed out of the school, when he ‘gifted’ Premnagar to the Society of Don Bosco, whose founder, like Fr. Edwin, was fired with a spirit to work for the young and the poor.
Years later, when I built my own little dwelling place and called it ‘The Mustard Seed’, Fr. Edwin, by then his love for everything Indian having taken deep roots, did not fail to express his displeasure and subtly remarked during one of his visits to us, “Borem American nanv ghatlam mure ! ”
Fr. Edwin was both witty and innovative. Once, during a joint religion class involving the tenth and the eleventh standard students, he asked a rather difficult question and stumbled upon our much guarded secret. Twelve of us senior and supposedly clever students had been taking advantage of the crowded class to bunk many times and play volleyball on the ground nearby. Visibly hurt and disappointed, he had left the class half way through but not before leaving an urgent message: that the ‘twelve disciples’ must immediately see the Master!
Fr. Edwin was a great teacher who firmly believed that if you spared the rod, you were bound to spoil the child. He literally thought us English with an iron hand and a couple of tough sticks when the going became tough. Once the results of the tests were declared, Fr. Edwin would begin his dreaded ‘evaluation’ process. The blackboard would be divided into two halves and papers of those who fared badly would be ‘publicly’ examined.
The monitor’s duty was to copy directly and ditto from the paper a part of the essay or the letter on one half of the blackboard. Then the students would be summoned and over a sound thrashing ‘corrected’ on the other ‘half’ of the board. The spellings, the commas, the grammar. The i’s we failed to dot and the t’s we missed to cross. With the beating becoming increasingly difficult to bear, we wrecked our brains together and soon found a way out. A day after the results were declared, most of those who feared the ‘shock treatment’ would come heavily padded with extra pants and banians underneath and as the stick landed ferociously, the student would jump and cry and act his part out.
I was one of those fortunate students who frequently found himself on Team Pope John participating in the elocution and spelling-bee competitions. For a number of years, I was the one barking out orders like vishram! and savdhan! during the school assembly. Naturally, I soon made a mark at village weddings and functions as a ‘gifted’ speaker.
Fr. Edwin D’Souza died on 27.10.1996, ten days after his seventy eight birthday. On the day of his funeral on 2.11.1996, at the Eucharistic Mass which was attended amongst others by His Excellency, Rev. Filipe Neri Ferrao, then Auxiliary Bishop of Goa, I had the privilege to address the large gathering with the survatechim utram. The passing away of a colossus is always a huge loss and Quepem was mourning. That day, I spoke with feelings and a voice I never realized I possessed. Everyone in the audience listened to me with rapt attention.
Except Fr. Edwin. He had by then ‘departed’ to another planet. After having fulfilled his mission here on Mother Earth.
***
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