Madonna of the street
DeVine, Fanny Kraiss
HOMEMAKING AMIDST RAGS Madonna of the street FANNY KRAISS DeVINE Make a joyful noise unto the. Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with gladness; come before His presence with singing- Psalm...
...but the outstretched hand, palm up, is a poignant gesture of need and desperation - turning to despair if ignored...
...This self-serving intention proved to be difficult to achieve, for nine out often among the throngs of people seemed to be beggars...
...The fox was in his stonecroft, the wolf in his lair, the bird in its nest...
...three walls enclosed small quarters for protection from the weather, and a doorway led to an extension which formed a balcony There were no windows and the wide doorway simply served for light, air, and privacy by letting down the strings of wooden beads...
...On approaching closer I noticed a small child lying contentedly in the midst of them...
...Walking through town with food of any kind exposed in a string bag means giving it all away...
...and fruit, even in this fertile climate, was nevertheless not available to indigents trapped in the city...
...The evening meal of rice, chapates, and a mango, together with mint tea was served to me on the balcony by one of the minions from the kitchen...
...The small child, covered with a brief shirt and nothing more, felt at home and contented...
...Now the heat was a sort of lethargy that hovered thick with smells-a mixture of frangipani laced with decay...
...By crumbling these she managed to produce enough fire in the top portion of the cooker to warm up water in a battered pot to cook a gruel of rice...
...and who knows, they may be the true inheritors of the earth...
...IT was late December when I arrived in southern India...
...a measured pace lent dignity to the heat...
...As I left my so-called hotel, I turned at the front door in order to round the corner to reach the side my room balcony faced...
...She cannot communicate with her child's need by borrowing from a composer...
...watching their intimate life...
...My musings were interrupted by the voice of a man...
...Already at six in the morning the air was oppressive...
...Unashamedly I watched the scene on the street below...
...Against a public building I saw what looked like a collection of castoffs...
...The oleander on my balcony reflected the general lassitude...
...A woman's FANNY KRAISS DeVINE is an artist and writer whose poetry, stories, and articles have appeared in many magazines and newspapers, including the Chicago Tribune, the Christian Science Monitor, and the Saturday Evening Post...
...Love must provide powerful nutrition - for how else do such children often grow so serenely and so handsomely...
...and the mother set her little one down...
...come before His presence with singing- Psalm 100:1-2...
...she was earth-bound for this life and was fulfilling her destiny without question and without expectations...
...love and companionship he felt all the time...
...A hand outheld palm down is a friendly gesture inviting a handshake...
...So I learned to carry some of the fruit in my pockets, in order to avoid turning mendicant also...
...and the little family homesteading on the street against a public building in Pondicherry was fulfilling its destiny with trust and quiet acquiescence, laying up treasures for their own Karmas...
...While the mother busied herself the child toddled about contentedly...
...Out of the pile of what looked like nothing but castoffs appeared all the essentials for making a home right on the street backed up against the front-facing well of a public building...
...She walked gracefully toward the little one, set down her water jar, then picked up the child with some words of greeting...
...only the occasional cow was taken notice of - for there was the possible promise of a fresh fuel supply for another day...
...Her voice was soft-like the night air...
...I was an outsider looking in - into the private home of a family...
...The child quieted and for a brief time a crooning melody was the only sound...
...After chapates and goat cheese for breakfast, I left, prepared to spend the day...
...Early that evening I sat on my balcony...
...Who knows what high-born ancestor might be fulfilling an earthly sojourn in that cow's skin...
...It came from the street below...
...The mother did not "feel" watched - for she was "homemaking'' within the circle of her sentient spirit...
...Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will.- Luke 2:14.of good will.- Luke 2:14...
...No cutlery accompanied my food, and I soon enough adapted to eating with the fingers-so cleverly designed for just that purpose...
...His mother was there with him and sooner or later she would offer him food...
...rags...
...I put away my Western clothes, so unsuitable for south temperate zones, and slipped into a white cotton garment of trousers and tunic...
...The child drank this in small, trusting gulps from a clay bowl...
...On one bare ankle was a brass circlet and brass jingled on her wrists as she made her toilette...
...Out of the clutter she produced a sort of clay hour-glass cooker - with space for coals in the top portion, and draft to enter from the lower portion, where also the ashes could fall...
...And the little family was making a home on the street, for lack of shelter, oblivious of passers-by...
...I settled down on my cot and felt the vastness of the night sky fold its secret ways all around me...
...always the inspiration of the mother's heart...
...The child laughed...
...A small child's laughter floated up to me and a woman's steady murmur - always punctuated by the delight of a child's laughter...
...A young woman approached, balancing a clay jar on her head...
...only the cows wandering amiably through the crowds cast their tranquil spell - perhaps because a path was always respectfully cleared for them...
...Only the bougainvillia was crisp as always-like crumpled tissue...
...My cot rolled easily for a position to suit the seasons...
...I rang for the minion to bring tea...
...The mother was telling stories to her child at the end of the day - all the while cradling the little one in her arms...
...At first she combed her beautiful long black hair, dressing it repeatedly with dabs of oil from a small bottle...
...There was much to do-a new world to explore, and the sounds of last evening had doubled my curiosity...
...The down of the smallest bird could not give more the impression of gentleness...
...At night his father would come "home...
...They could hardly be called servants, for they received so little more than their subsistence that they were truly servile dependents...
...My room at the inn was geared for indoor-outdoor living...
...An occasional breeze was neither longed for nor welcomed, because that breeze might catch one downwind from an open sewer...
...I was an outsider - looking in...
...And why is it that so often where love is lacking the most lavish diet appears to be nurturing weeds...
...voice joined the wailing of the infant...
...It was close to midnight when my senses, liberated from their mortal freight, were torn from their sublimated wanderings and concentrated, centered on one sound: a very young child's crying...
...I finally drifted into deep slumber until the high-pitched street noises of dawn coaxed me awake...
...In my pocket was a net bag which would serve to carry home fruit...
...He was speaking in the rapid, clipped syllables of Hindi, and the woman answered in acquiescent monosyllables...
...The moon hung its new crescent just above and stars shone all about-like quicksilver points in limbo, darting their own fire...
...She parted her hair in the center and carefully braided it in one braid at the nape of her neck...
...There seemed to be a great confusion everywhere, but no great rush...
...The little family was at home - occupied with "home-making...
...Then she reached around and brought out several pieces of dried cowchips...
...If India is indeed the land of mystery, then I was, already on my first night, caught up and enthralled...
...She outlined her almond-shaped black eyes with a stick of charcoal and from a small jar of paste she re-applied the Tika to her forehead, indicating " wifehood'' to all the world...
...The sun was still at the back of the building - so that mother and child were in shade...
...Yes, I thought, lullabies should always be original...
...When she came close to the ends of her own hair, she deftly worked an extender-braid into the remaining three sections until she had (what appeared to be her own) one long braid to far below the waist...
...But the voices expressed excitement, and dark eyes held deep fires...
...Pondicherry was in the grip of the stale heat that settles in after the monsoons have drenched the parched earth, and as quickly and thoroughly the sirocco winds that follow cracked it with drought, like shattered glass...
...The child seemed to be comforted by these sounds and moved happily around his mother...
...Then, as if she were indeed in the privacy of her own boudoir, this proud little homemaker effected a complete readjustment of her sari - arranging it skillfully in graceful folds...
Vol. 108 • December 1981 • No. 23
